By Charles C. W. Cooke
Monday, November 17, 2014
In our more frustrated moments, those of us who still
hope to forestall the constitutional crisis that President Obama’s executive
action is almost certainly going to provoke will resign ourselves to showing
rather than telling. Thwarted by the considerable difficulty of explaining
constitutional and historical norms to an audience that is either too impatient
to absorb the context or too self-interested to care about anything other than
its own desires, the president’s opponents eventually resort to blunt and
brutal threats of retaliation. “I can’t wait until President Cruz decides to
reform the tax code on his own,” we muse darkly. “And imagine what will happen
in 2017,” we add, “when a Republican executive tires of the stasis and simply
refuses to enforce Obamacare.” For the more cynical among the progressive
champions of what Ross Douthat has accurately described as “the will to power
of this White House,” such prospects should rankle. If we can’t convince the
vandals that Obama is entering “extraordinarily brazen territory,” our thinking
goes, we can at least remind them that he is opening the door for his opponents
to tear apart everything that they hold dear.
As a didactic exercise, this approach is all well and
good. And yet, I have of late begun to see some on the Right treating the
tactic as more than just idle levity or debaters’ flair. Rather, they have
started to mean it. Sean Trende, who is among the most interesting and
level-headed writers within the conservative firmament, today proposed on
Twitter that the Republican party’s “smart play on executive immigration is to
shrug, then have a field day when they next get the presidency.” When I asked
him for clarification, Trende told me that the system runs on “norms” and that,
once broken, those norms are difficult to reinstate, and he therefore contended
that Republicans should acknowledge the power grab and wait patiently until
they can utilize it. “I think it is a horrifying precedent being set here,”
Trende conceded, “but the die seems to be cast.” Ace of Spades’s Gabriel Malor,
another man I hold in high regard, holds a similar view, often expressing
excitement at the possibility that Republicans will eventually be able to take
advantage of what he terms, cheerfully, “The Obama Rule.”
I am afraid that I consider this approach to be little
short of suicidal, and I can under no circumstances look forward to a system in
which the executive may pick and choose which laws he is prepared to enforce.
On the contrary: I consider the idea to be a grave and a disastrous one, and I
would propose that any such change is likely to usher in chaos at first and
then to incite a slow, tragic descent into the monarchy and caprice that our
ancestors spent so long trying to escape. During the last 500 years or so, the
primary question that has faced the Anglo-American polities has been whether
the executive or the legislature is to be the key proprietor of domestic power.
In one form or another, this query informed both the English Civil War and the
Glorious Revolution that followed it, and it was at the root of the Revolution
in America. Cast your eyes across the Declaration of Independence and you will
notice that the majority of the “long train of abuses and usurpations” have to
do with the violation of the rights of assemblies by individuals who believe
themselves to be the dominant arbiter of the state’s affairs.
Once, Barack Obama sided with the abused and the usurped.
Reaffirming his “appropriate role as president” in 2011, Obama pushed back
against those who wished him to “bypass Congress” and “change the laws” on his
own, reminding his audience that “that’s not how our system works; that’s not
how our democracy functions; that’s not how our Constitution is written.” Last
year, he insisted vehemently that the United States was a “nation of laws” and
that his critics should refuse to “pretend like [he] can do something by
violating our laws.” Today, he takes the opposite view, putting his preferences
above the “appropriate role” of the president — above the “system,” “democracy,”
and the “Constitution” — and indeed promising to “bypass Congress and change
the laws” on his own. In the meantime, suffice it to say, we have not added a
“gridlock clause” to our charter. If conservatives sit idly by as the executive
branch abdicates its responsibility to faithfully execute the laws, they will
be complicit in the devastation of our political system.
Sean Trende is absolutely correct when he maintains that
constitutional “norms” are nigh on impossible to retrieve once they have been
abandoned. But, far from providing a justification for surrender, this is
precisely why conservatives should refuse to “shrug” their shoulders and wait
patiently for revenge. If, as he suggests, we cannot afford to watch these
conceits consigned to ash, then shouldn’t we make it abundantly clear that they
should be protected at all costs? Trende is also on to something when he
observes morosely that “the public pays no attention to process arguments” and
that Obama’s move will “be seen as a fight over immigration, which is what the
Admin wants.” But, again, he is absolutely wrong to suggest that there is more
to be gained by avoiding this fight than by engaging with it. The Constitution
of the United States represents an explicit attempt to codify and preserve a
republican form of government, and to set hard limits on the power within the
system of any one person, group, issue, or institution. For champions of
ordered liberty, the integrity of this codification is not vital to getting
what we want: Instead, it is what we want. Passionate as I am about day-to-day
politics, that a president of whom I approve might one day be able to push
through my coveted agenda with little to no resistance is no consolation at
all. Nor am I inspired by the prospect of my preferred leader’s being able to
disregard the law if he happens to disagree with it. Instead, I am keenly aware
that the rule of law and my own security are inextricably bound together. As
George Orwell might have said, a strongman that one holds in high regard is
still a strongman.
The “Constitution,” John Adams wrote, “was made only for
a moral and religious people. It is wholly inadequate to the government of any
other.” To this maxim he might have added the warning that the charter could
not possibly survive unless those who swear to uphold it elect to respect its
boundaries and honor its purpose. As should by now be obvious, culture matters
a great deal. Almost every time the American system has been tried in South
America, the inevitable tension between executive and legislature has produced
a coup, the “gridlock” that is the hallmark of our Madisonian system of
separated of powers serving as a boon to the presidency and as the overture to
military rule. For years now, progressives have pointed to these foreign
failures, predicting gravely that such an outcome was the inescapable
structural product of the constitutional system itself and that it would
eventually happen in America, too. Aware of the indispensable role that
national habits play in any political settlement, conservatives have tended to
argue otherwise, noting that the maturity and experience of the American
electorate guards against such usurpation. “Which president would want to break
the system?” we have inquired. And which lawmaker would be so lacking in
jealousy that he would refrain from stopping him? We are presumably about to
find out. It is time to gird our loins.
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