New York Times (Opinion)
By Alec MacGillis
February 21, 2016
IN
early 2009, as Barack Obama was about to take office, Mitch McConnell,
the leader of the Republican minority in the Senate, assembled his
caucus at a retreat in West
Virginia. There, he laid out his strategy for taking on the new
president, who was sweeping into office on a tide of popularity,
historical resonance and great expectations barely diminished by the
economic free fall then underway.
The
key, Mr. McConnell told his fellow Republicans, was to stymie and
undermine Mr. Obama, but to do so in subtle ways. As one of the senators
present, Robert F. Bennett
of Utah, later recalled to me: “Mitch said, ‘We have a new president
with an approval rating in the 70 percent area. We do not take him on
frontally. We find issues where we can win, and we begin to take him
down, one issue at a time. We create an inventory
of losses, so it’s Obama lost on this, Obama lost on that. And we wait
for the time where the image has been damaged to the point where we can
take him on.’ ”
Seven
years later, with the Republicans now in the Senate majority, the
opposition led by Mr. McConnell is as frontal as can be. After word of
Justice Antonin Scalia’s
death emerged last weekend, it took the majority leader less than an
hour to announce that the Senate would not entertain a replacement
before November. “This vacancy should not be filled until we have a new
president,” he said.
Mr.
McConnell’s blunt declaration was taken as the starkest exhibition yet
of the obstructionism that has characterized the Kentucky senator’s
stance toward President
Obama and congressional Democrats. The resistance from Mr. McConnell
has had an enormous influence on the shape of Obama’s presidency. It has
limited the president’s accomplishments and denied him the mantle of
the postpartisan unifier he sought back in 2008.
But it has also brought the Senate, the institution to which Mr.
McConnell has devoted his life, close to rupture.
His
declaration on the Supreme Court also represents a striking shift for
the veteran politician. In throwing down the gauntlet so emphatically,
and potentially riling
up a Democratic electorate, Mr. McConnell was doing something deeply
out of character: putting at risk his and his party’s prospects in the
coming election.
The
best way to understand Addison Mitchell McConnell Jr. has been to
recognize that he is not a conservative ideologue, but rather the
epitome of the permanent campaign
of Washington: What matters most isn’t so much what you do in office,
but if you can win again.
As
an aspiring young Republican — first, a Senate and Ford administration
staff member and then county executive in Louisville — Mr. McConnell
leaned to the moderate wing
of his party on abortion rights, civil rights and many other issues. It
was only when he ran for statewide office, for the Senate in 1984, that
he began to really tack right. Mr. McConnell won by a razor-thin margin
in a year when Ronald Reagan handily won
Kentucky. The lesson was clear: He needed to move closer to Reagan,
which he promptly did upon arriving in Washington.
From
that point on, the priority was winning every six years and, once he’d
made his way up the ranks of leadership, holding a Republican majority.
In 1996, that meant
voting for a minimum-wage increase to defuse a potential Democratic
talking point in his re-election campaign. In 2006, as George W. Bush
wrote in his memoir, it meant asking the president if he could start
withdrawing troops from Iraq to improve the Republicans’
chance of keeping the Senate that fall, when Mr. McConnell was set to
become its leader.
A
year later, it meant ducking out of the intense debate on the Senate
floor about immigration reform to avoid making himself vulnerable on the
issue. It is no accident
that the legislative issue Mr. McConnell has become most identified
with, weakening campaign finance regulations, is one that pertains
directly to elections.
This
is also the best way to understand Mr. McConnell’s staunch opposition
to the president: It is less about blocking liberal policy goals than
about boosting Republican
chances. Mr. McConnell intuited, shrewdly, that if he could bottle
things up in Washington with the filibuster and other tactics, the blame
for the gridlock would fall mostly to the Democrats — the party in the
White House. Not to mention that Mr. Obama had
campaigned on the promise of transcending Washington’s divides, which
made partisan dysfunction look like a personal failure.
There
was an obvious cost to this approach. Withholding any support for
President Obama’s agenda meant giving up the chance for more policy
concessions on big issues like
health care and financial reform. But for Mr. McConnell, shaping policy
wasn’t the goal. Winning was. When he said, notoriously, just before
the 2010 election that “the single most important thing we want to
achieve is for President Obama to be a one-term
president,” it was less an expression of personal animosity than it was
a simple reflection of the permanent campaign ethos.
Another
cost to this approach became apparent only later. Withholding any votes
from Obama’s big proposals meant, by definition, that the Democrats
ended up forcing them
through on party line votes, which further inflamed the grass-roots
conservative backlash to the president. This backlash helped Republicans
win in 2010 and 2014, but it also left Mr. McConnell with an empowered
right wing, led by the likes of Jim DeMint of
South Carolina and Ted Cruz of Texas, that was deeply wary of this
onetime moderate with weak ideological moorings. Sometimes, Mr.
McConnell could use this right wing to his benefit — warning the White
House, for instance, that it had better accede to Republican
demands on the debt ceiling in 2011 lest the renegades take the country
to default.
More
often, though, these self-described revolutionaries confounded him,
which led to explosions of frustration like the one that a longtime
associate witnessed in 2011:
“He said, ‘Those idiots, those people come up here and have never been
in office and know nothing about being in office.’ ”
Such
outbursts were kept under wraps, of course. Mr. McConnell needed to
appease enough of the chaos makers in order to stay atop the Republican
caucus, and to overcome
a Tea Party Republican challenger leading up to his 2014 re-election.
He
managed to do so, and finally attained his goal of becoming majority
leader. He made initial overtures to Mr. Obama about finding common
ground in areas like trade
policy. But soon enough, the focus turned back toward the next
election, 2016. Republicans now have seven Senate seats to defend in
states that the president carried in 2012.
Justice
Scalia’s death has greatly complicated Mr. McConnell’s election-year
plans. Remarkably, he has, for once, chosen a path that would seem to
reduce his party’s odds
in November.
Unlike
2009 and 2010, when his opposition took the form of procedural delays,
Mr. McConnell is taking a high-profile stand. Had he instead allowed the
nomination process
to proceed and bog down in more gridlock, the outrage quotient among
Democrats would have remained lower and his prospects for retaining the
majority higher.
The
likeliest explanation is that the insurgency that Mr. McConnell helped
engender has gotten so strong, embodied in the rise of Donald J. Trump
and Ted Cruz, that it
has caused him to lose his bearings. He felt compelled to get out in
front of the base’s ire over the Scalia replacement to avoid a later
challenge to his leadership perch.
It
is also possible, though, that in the Supreme Court’s balance, in
particular in relation to campaign finance law, Mr. McConnell has at
long last discovered one matter
that is so consequential that it is worth risking an election over.
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