In the annals of political cravenness and turncoat-ery, the astonishing volte-face of Marco Rubio over the past few years must rank as one of the more glaring and deplorable. Here was a man who—as U.S. senator—presented himself as something of an internationalist. He even—dare I utter the forbidden syllables—seemed at times to care about human rights. He objected stridently to the crimes of authoritarian regimes around the world. As recently as 2022, he was saying in public that deporting people to the hands of Maduro's regime in Venezuela would be tantamount to a "death sentence."
And look at him now. He has sold himself for "a handful of silver, [....] a riband to stick in his coat," as Browning once wrote of another great political turncoat past. Rubio, who once represented the best in the bipartisan defense of human rights and the principles of democracy, now spends every day mouthing the crude "America First" slogans of his MAGA paymasters.
And his policies have matched his words. He is revoking green cards in order to punish people for expressing disfavored political views—in blatant violation of the First Amendment. He is helping Trump carry out the very "death sentence" he warned against, by deporting people to Venezuela. He is cutting off humanitarian aid programs on which thousands if not millions of innocent lives depend...
"So fallen! So lost!" as John Greenleaf Whittier once wrote of Daniel Webster—after the latter had betrayed the antislavery cause of which he was once the champion. "[H]e who might / Have lighted up and led his age / Falls back in night."
But—Whittier warned—do not judge him too self-righteously. "The Tempter hath / A snare for all," wrote Whittier. In Rubio's case, the old Tempter was—of course—the prospect of political power. But—more than that—it was probably the vain hope that, by taking a position within the administration, he could somehow work some good in a small way from within. By swallowing a large evil, he could do a little good around the margins...
How do I know this? Because we heard a tiny peep this week from the old Marco—the human rights Marco. The mouse roared. Specifically, this week, Rubio announced a new policy of sanctions, targeting officials of other countries who have been complicit in the forced return of Uyghurs to China, where they face genocidal persecution.
It may seem a small recompense to gain this slight victory for human rights at the expense of all the other crimes that Rubio is otherwise forced to help carry out. A few Uyghurs protected in Thailand from forced refoulement to China—in exchange for Rubio's assistance otherwise in carrying out Trump's plans to eviscerate U.S. foreign aid, deport thousands to Venezuela, attack the First Amendment rights of noncitizens, etc...
And this is not even to mention the astounding hypocrisy of this policy. After all, Rubio is a member of an administration that—on its first day in office—declared the complete and categorical suspension of asylum hearings. People fleeing persecution have already been deported under this policy—including a family of Christian converts from Iran who face execution in their home country if they are returned. The United States is practicing the forced return of refugees to persecution wholesale at its borders, under Rubio's own administration—and then he turns around and sanctions Thai officials for doing the exact same thing?
I mean—what would happen if a Uyghur refugee reached U.S. soil and requested asylum? Presumably, they would be denied a hearing and summarily expelled under Trump's executive orders—which admit of no obvious exceptions. So... would Rubio then have to impose visa sanctions on himself? He certainly—already—fits his own definition under the order of an "official responsible for—or complicit in—the forced return" of refugees to danger.
So, one feels inclined to ask: was it worth it, Marco? Does he feel like he was actually able to accomplish good from behind the scenes in this administration? No doubt, he hopes that he can continue to get away with small victories for human rights—like this one—around the edges. He can do little things like helping the Uyghurs, which Trump will probably never notice or care about—so long as he helps Trump in the big things—like mass-deporting Venezuelan and Haitian asylum-seekers, banning travel from around the world, and shutting down U.S. foreign aid.
But is it worth getting the chance to do one tiny grain of good if you have to commit a mountain of evil to get there?
I've been reading Edgar Lee Masters's 1904 collection of political writings, The New Star Chamber and Other Essays. And I found there the only possible answer to the sort of moral cost-benefit analysis Rubio appears to be making.
In his essay on Theodore Roosevelt, Masters writes about how TR betrayed many of his own stated principles by becoming an advocate of imperialism. Masters notes that many Roosevelt apologists defending this self-betrayal by saying that he only "compromised with his ideals in order to get power to carry some of them into effect[.]"
This, clearly, seems to be Rubio's calculation as well. He thinks that if he compromises 99% of his humanitarian ideals and internationalist beliefs, then he can gain power to carry the remaining 1% of those ideals into effect. If he helps the administration mass-deport thousands of people to a veritable "death sentence" in Venezuela, then he can use whatever power he gains by doing so to protect 40 Uyghurs from forced repatriation to China. It's a hard bargain, but Rubio was willing to strike it.
Masters, however, points out the fallacy in such a calculation. I leave you with his words, which I think is the ultimate and final answer to the Rubios of the world—and which underline the moral tragedy of his willingness to sell himself for political power.
The strategy of "compromis[ing]" your "ideals in order to get power to carry some of them into effect"—Masters writes—"never has and never can be done. The man who thus sophisticates with his own mind has surrendered his power. He has fallen at the feet of evil in order to possess a kingdom; and he leaves behind him when he enters into possession, the only power by which he could serve the kingdom or glorify himself." By willing to mortgage his ideals in exchange for a "riband," therefore, Rubio covered himself with shame, not glory. He actually gave up his power to do good in exchange for the specious illusion of power.
And there, unfortunately, we will have to leave him. We will have to march on, without his companionship, as Browning wrote. We will have to continue the fight for human rights without his support. But let us hope nevertheless—with Browning—that one day he may "receive the new knowledge and wait us, / Pardoned in heaven, the first by the throne!"
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