Liz Cheney, sadly, no longer meets that test.
Liz Cheney, sadly, no longer meets that test.
L iz Cheney has become the latest lightning rod for the Republican Party’s chronic infighting, which as usual is dressed up as disagreements over issues and approaches, but is actually almost entirely about the personality and character of Donald J. Trump. Cheney has made herself a symbol of inter-Republican resistance to Trump’s post-election temper tantrum, to his fables about a stolen election, and to his role in provoking the Capitol riot — all of which is fair to call out, but all of which is now in the past. That is at the root of why she is likely to be deposed as House Republican Conference chairwoman and, realistically, is nearly the entire reason for it.
It would be better for the party to focus more on the interests of the nation and the party’s voters, and less on soothing the bruised ego of one man. But so long as the House Republican caucus is unwilling or unable to break with Trump, and so long as Trump and his most-devoted supporters demand that they not change their mind and not change the subject, the caucus’s leadership may as well reflect that.
As already detailed by Phil Klein, Ramesh Ponnuru, Michael Brendan Dougherty, and NR’s editorial, the specific debate over Cheney’s continued presence in House Republican leadership cannot entirely be separated from her own approach. I can add little to the general consensus that, while Cheney did not choose this battle, she has chosen, with poor political judgment, to prolong it in ways that make her position untenable in practical terms. Cheney has been admirable in her moral clarity, which public officials must be willing to demonstrate. The House Republican caucus needs, and should conspicuously tolerate, dissenting views on important questions. On occasion, that means recognizing that even members of leadership must speak and/or vote their own consciences. But at a certain point, you can lead or you can dissent; you cannot effectively do both simultaneously.
Mitch McConnell was loud and eloquent in rejecting Trump’s effort to overturn the 2020 election and in fixing blame on Trump for the Capitol riot. He was correct and courageous in doing so when it was something many in his own party did not want to hear. On the other hand, McConnell did not press the argument for Trump’s second impeachment once it was clear that his caucus was not going to go there. He took his shot and, having tried, moved on. Given the extensive goodwill he has built up over time as a Senate tactician, McConnell is unlikely ever to face negative consequences for his leadership in telling harsh truths about Trump, however much Trump fumes at him — but he also backed away from putting his vote behind that once the battle was lost.
On balance, was this brave, cowardly, or coldly amoral? As I have previously written, “there are two types of political courage. One is the courage of the gadfly, standing alone on an unpopular position to keep it alive. . . . The other is the courage to make a difference: not standing up a pointless suicide charge, but throwing all your weight behind a cause at the critical moment when victory is possible, but not assured.” McConnell, as leader of the Senate Republicans, cannot be a gadfly on a major issue. He had the courage to try to convince his caucus to move on Trump; he backed away when they would not. That was practical, however much I wanted it to end otherwise. Sometimes, one must live to fight another day.
Cheney has had the courage of a gadfly. Even when the cause was hopeless, she has soldiered on. We should admire that. But we should also recognize why it makes it difficult for her to do her job as a member of leadership, especially given the nature of the House. The representatives she is supposed to be leading probably agree with her — I doubt you could find a double-digit number of House Republicans who actually, sincerely believe the nonsense that Trump is the rightful winner of the 2020 presidential election — but in order to continue representing the desires and interests of their voters, they would rather put the issue behind them and focus on the actual, current president and his actual, current agenda. Cheney writes in a Washington Post op-ed published Wednesday, “The question before us now is whether we will join Trump’s crusade to delegitimize and undo the legal outcome of the 2020 election, with all the consequences that might have.” But it is in no way in the interests of the Republican Party or its voters for this to be the question currently before the House or the party. Deciding what to talk about is a big part of what leaders do.
We want, and expect, more than this of presidents — but that is precisely because presidents are different from legislators. The solitary nature of executive leadership means that sometimes, a president or a governor needs to stand alone against the storm and bend the more pliable wills of legislators to the right decision. The need for this is precisely why we can, and should, demand more of candidates for these jobs in terms of character and experience.
Individual members of Congress can sometimes play the gadfly. But the reality of leading a legislative caucus is that it is mainly about reaching consensus. Good legislative leaders understand tactics. Great legislative leaders understand strategy. But unlike presidents, the leaders of legislative caucuses simply do not have enough solitary power — especially after decades of weakening the levers of party discipline — to lead by principle or courage where their members, and their members’ voters, do not wish to follow. It is unreasonable to expect better of them.
Cheney’s sole argument for the continuing relevance of beating this drum as a party matter is this:
We must support a parallel bipartisan review [of the Capitol riot] by a commission with subpoena power to seek and find facts; it will describe for all Americans what happened. This is critical to defeat the misinformation and nonsense circulating in the press and on social media. No currently serving member of Congress — with an eye to the upcoming election cycle — should participate. We should appoint former officials, members of the judiciary and other prominent Americans who can be objective, just as we did after the attacks of Sept. 11, 2001. The commission should be focused on the Jan. 6 attacks. The Black Lives Matter and antifa violence of last summer was illegal and reprehensible, but it is a different problem with a different solution.
She is right about this (not that we had such commissions on Russian interference in the 2016 election or the integrity of the 2020 election, both of which would have been helpful), and if she limited her continuing critique to the appointment of the January 6 commission, she would be on more solid ground. But making herself the continuing face of dissent from Trump has inevitably alienated Cheney from the people she is supposed to lead.
It saddens me deeply that Cheney’s critics have a point, because on the matter of truth and falsehood, she is right and they are wrong. But politics is the art of the possible. Liz Cheney is no longer the leadership House Republicans need, or deserve. So long as their case for adhering to Trump is the practical argument that they are mere passive representatives of their voters, their leaders should be the same.