Disloyalty

 Politico ran a piece today quoting some wistful comments from Sen. Mitch McConnell about the isolationist turn his own party has taken. And it is indeed staggering how quickly the Republicans have pivoted to an inward-looking nationalism reminiscent of the 1930s. Another piece in the same outlet today quoted a Republican member of the House explaining that he won't back Ukraine aid because it would "perpetuate war." The self-described "America First" right (who cribbed their slogan from precisely the 1930s isolationists who abetted Hitler's rise) have seemingly dropped any pretense now that they are merely holding out for concessions in the Ukraine negotiations. They have come out in the open: they are admitting they don't want to back aid for Ukraine because they don't actually support it.

If you had told me just fifteen years ago that the Republican Party would make such an unrecognizable U-turn on this issue in the next decade, switching from being the party of war hawks to the party of isolation, I might have said that sounded like a good thing. Coming out of the George W. Bush era, it seemed like a little more foreign policy restraint might be exactly what the party needed. 

Yet, it is remarkable how Republicans managed to make this turn at exactly the wrong geopolitical moment. They seem to have a sort of genius for being morally and strategically indefensible, no matter the vicissitudes of their positions. After all, they have decided that we shouldn't care about the fate of other democracies abroad at exactly the time when Putin is invading them, murdering his political opponents, and torturing terrorism suspects in full view of the public—as if he were reveling in his own brutality and the lawlessness of his regime. If there were ever a moment when we needed to take seriously the threat of our authoritarian adversaries abroad, this is it. If there were ever a time for Republicans to line up behind the idea of a "new American century"; this is it! So why on Earth aren't they? 

I guess it's just that the right-wing character is essentially that of a bully. And as such, they have the cowardice of all bullies. They were all for being hawks when it meant going to war against far weaker foes, whom the U.S. could easily flatten in a rain of bombs. But now that the U.S. faces an adversary our own size, they turn craven. "A good kind bear is angary," as E.E. Cummings imagined the politicians of midcentury crying, when they similarly declined to save Hungary from being steamrolled by the Soviet juggernaut. The true right-winger balks at the idea of actually having to make a sacrifice for some of our principles or commitments abroad. They just want to win big, and easily. And since that is looking less likely now in Eastern Europe, they are all for letting our Ukrainian allies hang.

The even darker possibility that could explain their behavior, though, is that they are so far gone down the partisan rabbit-hole that they regard Democrats as more their enemies than Putin. Many of them, after all, frankly seem to like and admire Putin. When Putin showcases his government's torture of terrorism suspects, a certain type of right-winger is not horrified; a certain type of right-winger thinks that's awesome. It's exactly what Trump himself has promised to do in the past, after all. It's exactly the kind of feeble exercise of power over the already-defeated that appeals to the bully mind. It is exactly the display of cruelty against those who have already been rendered helpless and at one's mercy that suits the Trumpist personality. The weak are to be despised, according to their moral scheme; and the strong to be worshipped—no matter how nefarious or how opposed to U.S. interests.

What we're really dealing with here, then, is rank disloyalty; and it is coming out more and more into the open. Republicans oppose Ukraine aid most of all because they prefer Putin to the U.S. government. They think Putin will do more to advance their narrow political ambitions and their preferred vision of the world—and no doubt they are right. And the emergence of such an openly disloyal faction in our politics is no doubt one more—and far from the least concerning—indicator of the decline of our democratic institutions. 

History bears similar examples of how democratic states have forfeited their birthright of freedom because self-interested parties chose to prioritize their own narrow political interests over the good of the commonwealth. I mentioned in the last post that I've been reading the military historian Sir Edward Creasy's classic book, The Fifteen Decisive Battles of the World, and he writes there of how the ancient Athenian democracy was repeatedly menaced by the intrigues of ousted demagogues and tyrants, who fled to neighboring adversaries in order to win the support of a national enemy to their private cause. Unfortunately, Creasy writes, no matter how "zealous and true" the Athenian democracy was "against foreign invader and domestic tyrant," little could protect it against "a faction [...] of men" undermining them from within, who were "willing to purchase a party triumph over their fellow-citizens at the price of their own country's ruin." 

Look all around us and ask: does that not precisely describe what the MAGA Republicans are doing? Have they not sold us out to advance their own unprincipled interests? Recall when Trump effectively torpedoed the Senate bill that would have delivered aid to Ukraine and Taiwan to help defend them from authoritarian adversaries. Remember that he did it above all because he wanted to preserve "the border" as a campaign issue, and didn't want to actually see Republicans pass any of the anti-asylum measures they have been negotiating for, because it would deprive him of a talking point. To be sure, I hated these anti-asylum provisions and was glad to see them fail; don't get me wrong. But was Trump's reason for destroying the bill, and tanking Ukraine's hopes along with it, anything other than an attempt to "purchase a party triumph over [his] fellow-citizens at the price of [his] own country's ruin"?

Such, at least, is how I hear Creasy's line, in the context of current events. And there is internal evidence in the text that Creasy too was speaking about more than just ancient Athens, when he penned that observation. Other passages in the book, which was originally published in 1851, seem to indicate that Creasy was concerned about the risk that France might attack Great Britain again. But he also—more presciently—warns against the gathering power of the Russian autocracy, with its militant opposition to all forms of liberalism, constitutionalism, and democracy throughout Europe. 

There have of course been many changes of government in Russia since 1851—from czarist autocracy to Soviet rule to postmodern Putinist pseudo-democracy. But through it all, certain patterns have remained consistent: such as the Russian state's willingness to invade its weaker neighbors in Eastern Europe, as well as its opposition to genuine democracy. 

But maybe a lot of Americans are convinced that, even so, it can pose no danger to us. We are all the way over here; and Putin is all the way over there. What menace could he ever pose to us? Why should the fate of Ukraine and Putin's other more immediate neighbors have any bearing on us? 

Yet even if we take this self-centered view of it—which I don't think we should, but supposing we did—even then, Putin's actions should worry us. Look to how Putin governs the people in his current territory. Then ask yourself whether you would complacently abide the prospect of parts of Eastern Ukraine falling under his rule; let alone all of Ukraine; let alone some of our NATO allies, whom Trump has threatened to sell out to Putin; let alone ourselves. To cite a passage from later in Creasy's book, when he is quoting from Queen Elizabeth, as she urges her people to resist the Spanish monarch's invasion of the country by sea: look to "the fruits of that hard and cruel government holden in countries not far distant." Look to them indeed. Look to Putin's Russia. 

When we read about Russian defectors and dissidents gunned down in foreign countries for daring to oppose Putin's regime; when we hear about Putin torturing prisoners and then parading their scarred bodies before cameras in apparent pride at his own thugs' handiwork—remember that that is what we would be sentencing our Ukrainian allies to, if we allowed them to fall into Putin's hands; if we do not defend them now. And remember that that is what we will be condemning ourselves to, if we fail to ever stop Putin's rise—or, altnatively, if we opt to install a junior version of Putin of our own—such as Putin's lapdog Trump—in our elections next fall.