Kevin McCarthy won’t learn anything from his ritual humiliation. The voters should | Opinion
Kevin McCarthy’s tragicomic struggle to grasp the House speaker’s gavel, the coveted, costly prize denied him by his fellow Republican representatives again and again for days, wasn’t just a historical anomaly. It was also a gem of justice in an unjust world — one of those vanishingly rare cases of a man getting exactly what he deserves.
McCarthy’s compulsive dishonesty, habitual servility and enthusiasm for groveling before authoritarians were never stellar credentials for a man hoping to be entrusted with the leadership of a democratic institution. But McCarthy’s ritual humiliation transcends his person and serves as an indictment of his party.
The California Republican has solicitously presided over a group of people who to varying degrees do not believe in elections, governance, facts, decency or order. Nearly two-thirds of his ragtag caucus voted to overturn the last presidential election, so of course they’re not pulled by the precepts that typically enable people to form societies, associations and, well, congresses.
McCarthy has responded to the burgeoning extremism in his ranks by adhering to no principle other than keeping as much of the rabble behind him as possible, chiefly by rewarding its worst instincts. Ironically, through over a dozen attempts to elect a House speaker, he still didn’t have enough of their votes. And gaining them was requiring even more kowtowing and capitulation to the fringe.
McCarthy’s allegiance to simple addition has occasionally led him to abandon an incorrigible apostate such as former Wyoming Rep. Liz Cheney purely because the numbers on the other side — in Cheney’s case, those loyal to Donald Trump and his insurrection — were obviously greater. More often, he has tried to mollify all sides of every intraparty quibble, controversy or coup attempt through prevarication and outright fabrication.
The most infamous example came two years ago Friday, when Trump’s insurrectionist mob put McCarthy, his colleagues, his employees and his democracy in mortal danger. It was enough for him to briefly break character by holding the then-president responsible for the attack and vowing to urge him to resign. Within the month, however, he was posing for a weird Mar-a-Lago photo shoot with Trump and, subsequently, denying having said he should leave office — only to be ruthlessly refuted by an audio recording of him saying exactly that.
It’s no wonder in that light that when McCarthy finally seemed to be within reach of the object he had so endlessly and thoroughly abased himself for, what he got was more abasement. Even in a den of deniers of election results and countless other facts, his singular, unscrupulous quest has left such a trail of betrayal that many hesitated to trust him with anything of value — certainly not political power, which is all some of them value.
It’s fitting that the McCarthy dramedy’s main subplot concerned George Santos, the only occupant of the chamber more famous for lying than McCarthy. Santos, a New York Republican, appears to have authored a fictional autobiography in the course of his successful bid to join the caucus. As far as McCarthy is concerned, however, he has already made up for it by voting for him in every one of those relentlessly repeating roll calls.
It’s similarly fitting that Republicans mounted this, their latest mockery of democracy, in the shadow of the second anniversary of the deception-driven insurrection they fomented, enabled and excused. As their stalemate stretched past 13 ballots over four days on Friday, it became the worst such paralysis of Congress since the bitter slavery politics that preceded the Civil War — again, fittingly.
The American people barely gave Republicans one job in the last election, and they struggled to make it past the orientation process. Without a speaker, members couldn’t be sworn in, form committees or function in any substantive capacity, raising questions about the very existence of Congress.
It was a fascinating turn of events in a city and country where so many are still obsessed with such obsolescent imperatives as bipartisanship. Not that there’s anything wrong with bipartisanship: It’s alive and well, in fact, as evidenced by President Joe Biden’s appearance during the interregnum alongside the other Republican leader, Kentucky Sen. Mitch McConnell, in the latter’s home state, where they boasted about fixing a bridge like the pair of ancient Washingtonians they are.
The previous, Democratic-controlled Congress logged a series of major legislative achievements with bipartisan support, from bolstering manufacturing to codifying marriage rights to shoring up the economy and infrastructure. That doesn’t prove the value of bipartisanship, which is only a means. Fixing bridges and assuring equality under the law are worthy ends regardless of how many Republicans or Democrats vote for them.
Bipartisanship won’t fix the country any more than it can fix the Republicans or Congress or a bridge in Kentucky. What we had in the House over the past week was a disaster that was thoroughly monopartisan. The party is the problem.