Hope, just as memory of our relieved collective sigh on November 8th, fades with each passing moment of the Democratic Party’s ineffectual opposition. The reservoir of goodwill and optimism in the election’s wake has evaporated; the popular mandate to end the Iraq war, betrayed by cynicism and cowardice. Yet again, a small man—repudiated by the voters, and clearly unfit to govern—smirks triumphantly clutching his blank check.
The convergence of Republican corruption, incompetence, the Foley sex scandal, mounting disillusionment toward a deteriorating occupation, and BushCo’s creeping authoritarianism—a perfect political storm—returned Democrats to power before we’d internalized the critical lessons of minority status: how to oppose, how to challenge prevailing frames, and how to cohesively defend sacred principles; the twelve year purgatory, it seems, was insufficient.
The leadership’s risk aversion and inability to spend political capital sabotages the project of broader realignment, prolonging an intolerable status quo. Playing it safe can only get one so far, and carries inherent peril that fear of losing will overwhelm the will to win. I won’t rehash the various capitulations here; the list is exceedingly long, it is painful to recall, and lamentation of folly is not my purpose. Instead, let’s remember the rare moment when we got it right: blocking Bush’s attempt to dismantle Social Security.
Not only was that the Democrats’ finest hour, but it precipitated the decider’s fall from grace by thwarting the central legislative priority of a second term that could well have been more disastrous than the first. At last, Bush’s actions had consequences: never before had he put so much prestige on the line and fallen so completely on his face. Despite the intensity of his propaganda barrage, we refused to back down or allow him to frame the debate; we were united, and we were willing to use the limited powers at our disposal—the microphone and the filibuster—to full effect. The outcome was far from clear in advance, and the act entailed risks: Bush had just won re-election and was at 50% approval; we’d lost House and Senate seats; and the MSM was as compliant as ever. None of that mattered. We did what needed doing; 2005 would not see the long-sought destruction of the New Deal. I thought that we’d finally learned something.
Not so. At least not judging by our moves since the election. Declaring impeachment "off the table" was a monumental error in judgment and strategy (even if we’d no intention of pursing it), an unforced blunder surrendering leverage and initiative, and tacitly assenting to the notion that Constitutional accountability is too partisan, too rancorous—an unwarranted "waste of time". It’s hard to fathom a clearer sign of timidity, and harder to devise a more counterproductive way to embolden a cabal that respects only naked exercises of power. We started losing as soon as we’d won.
With the benefit of a few months' hindsight, it’s clear we need a re-ordering of priorities.
Our tenuous Senate majority means that our chief legislative power—aside from subpoenas and investigations—is negative. That is, we cannot override presidential vetoes, or in many cases, even achieve the cloture votes necessary to force the decider to block popular initiatives (like federally funded stem cell research and minimum wage hikes), but at least we’re not passing odious legislation, and more importantly, we are not forced to fund anything. We hold the purse strings. Only irrational over-caution and our own consternation at all the bad things those mean Republicans would say has prevented us from tightening them. As soon as Democrats assumed the gavels, we should have set new terms—for one: not a single, red, fucking cent would be appropriated for war henceforth without meaningful input into its conduct. Intransigent asshattery like the "surge" would be DOA and returned to sender.
In lieu of such bold action, we left pondering the utterly predictable surrender on the supplemental funding bill. No excuses are equal to the magnitude of shame: it was the antipode of the Social Security fight, a crystallization of all the failings we loathe, the work of invertebrates. In the shadow of our failure lurks an executive operating outside and in open contempt of his prescribed Constitutional role, continually spitting in our faces, declaring himself above the law, and daring us to lift a finger to restrain him. By passively suffering each usurpation, we condone it, begging, virtually guaranteeing, the next. Impunity is becoming precedent, consolidating powers for future abusers. What are we really doing about it? Bush’s approval ratings are abysmal, but what do they mean if no one capitalizes on them? How are our presidential candidates—specifically the current officeholders—leading? When was the last time anyone took a genuine risk?
Successfully wielding political power, especially for progressive ends, is not a simple matter of acquiescing to reality, but transforming it. An over-emphasis on process has occluded our goals—blinding us to possibilities, and stifling our imagination. Our mandate is powerless in stasis, and the luxury of time is not ours.
People are dying. Needlessly. For lies.