By Jonah Goldberg
Wednesday, October 30, 2019
In l’affaire Ukraine, the president is guilty as charged.
And the best strategy for him to avoid impeachment by the House and perhaps
even removal by the Senate is to admit it, apologize, and let voters make their
own judgment. It’s also the best way to fend off a disaster for Senate
Republicans.
The president is accused — politically, not criminally —
of trying to force the Ukrainian president to tar former vice president Joe
Biden with an investigation into his alleged “corruption” in exchange for the
release of military aid and a meeting in the Oval Office. I believe a plain
reading of the rough transcript of a phone call between Trump and Ukrainian
president Volodymyr Zelensky supports the charge. So does testimony from the
top American diplomat in Ukraine, William Taylor, as well as several other
Trump appointees and aides, including Tuesday’s testimony from Alexander
Vindman, a National Security Council staffer who listened to the phone call.
There’s still due diligence to be done, but it seems implausible they’re all
lying.
Common sense also works against the president. If Trump
were sincerely concerned about Ukrainian corruption, why has he never expressed
similar concerns about corruption anywhere else? And, why, if the issue is
Ukrainian corruption generally, did the Trump administration focus on the
alleged corruption of a single Ukrainian firm, Burisma, where Biden’s son sat
on the board?
The most plausible explanation is twofold. First, the
corruption issue was a pretext; under the law, corruption concerns are the only
justification for blocking congressionally approved aid. Second, Trump’s real
goal was to bruise Biden. Indeed, according to Taylor, the White House said it
would settle for a mere statement about Biden’s potential corruption — meaning
Trump cared more about political gain than about an actual investigation.
Trump and his defenders are still pounding on outdated,
unpersuasive, or irrelevant talking points. They rail about the identity and
motives of the whistleblower who first aired these allegations, even though the
whistleblower’s report has been largely corroborated by others. They claim that
the process of the Democratic inquiry in the House is unconstitutional, which
is ridiculous. They insist that hearings where Republicans can cross-examine
witnesses are a “star chamber” or reminiscent of secret Soviet trials. Also
ridiculous.
Republican complaints about the heavy-handed tactics of
the Democrats have some merit, but they’ll be rendered moot when the Democrats
move to public hearings or to a Senate trial. And when that happens, claims
that the call was “perfect” and that there was no quid pro quo will evaporate
in the face of the facts.
This is why the smartest Trump defenders are counseling
the president to simply admit the obvious: There was a quid pro quo, and the
president’s phone call fell short of perfection, but nothing he did is an
impeachable offense.
As former federal prosecutor (and my old National
Review colleague) Andrew McCarthy argues, by insisting there was no quid
pro quo, the president made things much easier for Democrats. The implicit
concession in Trump’s position is that if the charges were true, they would be
impeachable. That is a burden of proof that no doubt warms the cockles of Adam
Schiff’s heart. The smarter course is to admit it happened but, as McCarthy
writes, “no harm no foul.”
I’d go one step further. Rather than take the Mick
Mulvaney line and shout “get over it” — now a Trump-campaign T-shirt — the
president should apologize. Trump’s refusal to admit any wrongdoing imperils
GOP senators who are already reluctant to defend him on the merits. Once the
process complaints expire, they’ll be left with no defense at all. Bill Clinton
fended off removal in the Senate in no small part because he admitted
wrongdoing and asked the country for forgiveness. Once he did that, he and his
supporters were liberated to say the country should “move on.” It’s worth
recalling that the first existential crisis of Trump’s 2016 campaign — his talk
about groping women on the Access Hollywood tape — was averted by the
first, and last, meaningful apology anyone can remember from him.
I disagree with those who say that the allegations
against Trump are not impeachable. But, politically, apologizing could
forestall impeachment by giving politicians and voters a safe harbor: “It was
wrong, but he said he’s sorry. Move on.” The longer the president defends a
lie, the more Americans will resent being lied to.
Of course, contrition doesn’t come easy for Trump and
would be embarrassing for him and his media cheerleaders. But it would also
give Republican candidates a rationale for opposing impeachment that they could
sell.
Trump is fond of demanding ever more loyalty from
Republicans. But loyalty is a two-way street. If he thinks they should defend
him, he should give them something defensible to work with.
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