Here’s How Our Brave Republican Leaders “Stood Up” to Trump and Putin

Despite the dire warnings from the intelligence community that Russia interfered in the 2016 election and will do so again in November, Donald Trump stood next to Vladimir Putin on Monday and insisted that the real enemy of the free world is Hillary Clinton's e-mail server. There are only two conclusions you can draw from this debacle: Either Putin has something on Trump that compels the president to act this way, or Trump is so terrified of being exposed as an accident of history that he'd sooner knife his own country's credibility than put his fragile ego at risk. Neither of these explanations is comforting, and they are not mutually exclusive.

As incredible as it may seem, our Constitution's framers—men whose experiences with the British monarchy left them deeply suspicious of heads of state—had a contingency plan for the ascension of someone like Donald Trump: It is called "Congress," a co-equal branch of government that they created to act as a check on future commanders-in-chief who might abuse their executive powers. It does not appear, however, that our Constitution's framers imagined the full-on abdication of these oversight responsibilities by future members of future congresses, which is exactly what Paul Ryan, Mitch McConnell, and their Republican colleagues are doing as you read this sentence.

They talk, of course. They have become very good at making solemn proclamations of regret and concern, because they have been afforded plenty of opportunities to practice. "The president must appreciate that Russia is not our ally," said Ryan on Monday. "I have said a number of times and I’ll say it again: The Russians are not our friends, and I entirely believe the assessment of our intelligence community," echoed McConnell. Other GOP politicians walked the same precarious tightrope, straining to say the obvious ("Russia is bad") while scrupulously avoiding any mention of that statement's logical conclusion ("My party's leader saying 'Russia is good' is bad").


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Here is Nebraska senator Ben Sasse, whose interest in convincing you of his Never Trump bona fides begins with his book-sales numbers and ends with his 2024 presidential aspirations:

Here is North Carolina's Richard Burr, who chairs the Senate Intelligence Committee:

Here is the Senate's number-two Republican, John Cornyn, calling Vladimir Putin a liar:

Here is Iowa's Chuck Grassley, who chairs the Senate Committee on the Judiciary:

Here is sentient doormat Jeff Flake, who might beat Ben Sasse to the punch:

Here is Tennessee's Bob Corker, who has described his party's White House as an "adult day care" for its overripe toddler occupant:

What all these carefully workshopped talking points omit is any indication that they plan to do anything beyond promulgating their carefully workshopped talking points. Some of them are even complaining anonymously to Politico that there isn't anything more they can do, and that really, they deserve praise for speaking out so courageously despite the long odds of success.

This is a ludicrous assertion. Burr could hold hearings on Russia's meddling efforts anytime he wants. So could Grassley. McConnell could bring legislation to the floor that strengthens sanctions against Russia, or that protects the Mueller investigation from Trump's attempts to scuttle it. Cornyn could get morons like Rand Paul to stop smearing the special counsel in public. Ryan and his House colleagues could subpoena Trump's financial records to determine just how extensive his business interests in Russia might be. With Republicans holding a one-vote Senate majority during John McCain's medical leave of absence, literally any senator could hold up Brett Kavanaugh's confirmation to the Supreme Court until Trump gives the American people the answers they deserve. None of them are doing any of these things, because they care more about enjoying the trappings of political power than they do the president's willingness to prostrate himself before the murderous autocrat who helped put him in office.

The bits of pushback that venture beyond vague expressions of disappointment are more performative than substantial. Cornyn's proposed resolution affirming the Senate's support for the American intelligence community is a non-binding measure that is basically a formal version of his tweets. Corker can issue this brave call for a vote because he knows full well that McConnell will never, ever allow one. Both Corker and Flake, remember, are leaving the Senate in November. In theory, they have nothing to lose by deciding that this is the moment at which they'll unveil the backbones that they've worked so diligently to hide. Yet they do nothing. The Constitution grants our legislators broad powers to prevent a president from becoming a tyrant, and they are only "helpless" to rein in Trump because their cowardice has ensured it.

When Flake announced his retirement last year in a dramatic speech on the Senate floor, many observers hoped it was a good-faith invitation to his fellow Republicans to put country over party. "For the next 14 months," he promised, "I will be guided only by the dictates of conscience." Based on their actions since then, it is difficult to conclude that such consciences exist.