By Noah Rothman
Wednesday, November 18, 2020
In the modern era, there have been few more
spectacularly bungled attempts to wrest power away from the forces of history
than the August 1991 plot to keep the Soviet Union from imploding.
The plan began inauspiciously enough: in a sweltering
banya, lubricated by vodka and scotch, a half-dozen semi-nude apparatchiks and
generals devised a scheme to force the General Secretary to step down, take the
levers of power, save the empire and themselves. It was a debacle.
The USSR had already sacrificed its legitimacy at the
time the plot was hatched. Soviet reformers had compelled Moscow to open its
archives, revealing the deal with Nazi Germany that consigned the Baltic states
to imprisonment inside the worker’s republic and exposing how the Soviet origin
story wasn’t just a lie but the product of collaboration with its most vilified
enemy. A new treaty to ratify the Union was on the table, and it would surely
lead to the independence of many of its constituent republics. The game was
already over, but the August plotters couldn’t see it. Not from the bottom of a
bottle, anyway. All they could see was their power, their ideology—their very
identities—slipping away.
Everything that could go wrong did. Confronted by the
plotters, Mikhail Gorbachev refused to resign and was subsequently detained.
The plotters took control of state radio and television but only replaced
regular programming with Tchaikovsky on an ominous loop. None of the 200
targets they sought to arrest were detained. One, Boris Yeltsin, managed to
rally anti-putschist Muscovites from atop the tanks that were intended to
intimidate Soviet citizens but only galvanized them. The scene was somehow
allowed to be broadcast on Soviet television, mobilizing much of the country in
opposition. When the plotters appeared on Soviet television visibly inebriated,
the dead-enders were exposed. The once fearsome apparatus of the state was a
paper tiger. Gorbachev was released, two of the plot leaders shot themselves,
and the rest were imprisoned. The Communist Party they sought to preserve was
banned, and the USSR dismantled itself.
Compare this to what Donald Trump’s fiercest allies
are trying to do now, and the August Coup looks brilliantly conceived and
competently executed by contrast. If this is a “coup,” as an excitable sort has taken to calling it, it’s one of the
dumbest in modern history.
For a brief moment on Tuesday night, one
Democrat-heavy Michigan county board of canvassers deadlocked over whether to
certify the election results that would hand the state’s electoral votes to Joe
Biden. After two hours, amid a cascade of bipartisan criticism, the standoff
was resolved, but not before the president and his campaign officials declared the
naked power-grab a “huge win” for Donald Trump.
If reports are to be believed, this was all part of
the plan. According to sources who spoke with the Washington Post, the Trump campaign’s last big idea is to force states to delay the
certification of election results, paving the way for supposedly loyal
Republican state legislators to disregard the vote and appoint their own
electors. Think too long about it, though, and the plan quickly falls apart.
Trump’s margin of defeat in Michigan is simply too large to be explained by
shenanigans at the polls, and the state’s GOP legislators have already promised
that they would not subvert the will of the voters.
But the plot doesn’t involve Michigan alone. According
to Post reporter Robert Costa, people close to Rudy Giuliani (who leads
the legal campaign to save the president from defeat) acknowledge that the
election is lost if the votes are all counted. Their only hope now is to force
states to avoid certifying their respective results, prevent Biden from
achieving a majority in the Electoral College, and throw the presidency to the
House of Representatives where, presumably, the Republican-led majority of
state delegations would reelect the president.
The plan is as diabolical as it is nonsensical. It is
somehow more disdainful of the conventions that have preserved American comity
than even progressive schemes to pack the courts, destroy the character of the
Senate, and add new states to the Union. At least those advocating such
harebrained schemes acknowledge the institutional obstacles in their path. For
Trump’s allies, the biggest impediment to achieving their objective—the votes
of hundreds of thousands of Americans—are simply waved away.
The president himself has embraced an unsubstantiated
conspiracy theory that a voting equipment supply company rigged the election
against him. Anyone who says otherwise—and they are numerous—is ignored or
attacked. And when those voices of dissent come from within his own
administration, they are summarily fired. The president doesn’t even bother to craft a cover story to justify his
actions.
There is no persuasive effort underway. Indeed, public
persuasion seems an afterthought. All you hear from the White House is
Tchaikovsky on a loop.
None of this is particularly intimidating. It’s
pitiful. What Trump is sacrificing amid these desperate efforts to cling to
power is one of his best political assets: the perception that he is an
effective pugilist in defense of what is his and, therefore, presumably a
strong advocate for his constituents. That was only ever a matter of
perception—Trump himself has confessed he’s more of a “whiner” than a fighter. But the president’s goal
is to remain relevant within the party—a kingmaker ahead of 2022 and a
resurgent force in 2024. The fiasco over which he presides only makes it easier
for those Republicans who have to break from Trump and Trumpism to succeed him.
Like the coup plotters, the Republicans mounting a hopeless last stand are
sacrificing their legitimacy and honor in defense of a hill that is already
overrun.
But that sort of tawdry politics can wait for another
day. The impropriety of it all cannot and should not be ignored. Yes, Trump
voters feel like it shouldn’t have
gone this way. They think it doesn’t
make any sense, and there is too much smoke in the air for there to be no fire
somewhere—anywhere. But those feelings are the byproduct of a deliberate
misinformation campaign. Far from being menaced by this subterfuge, Trump’s
Democratic opponents can summon only embarrassment for the president.
There is no modern analog for the display Republicans
are engaging in—no parallel to which the right can point and claim their
actions are justified by the standards of decency Democrats violated long ago.
This is new. And though it may soon become more dangerous than it is today, the
flailing tantrum in which the president’s final phalanx is engaged isn’t
frightening as much as it is pathetic.
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