I was all set to ignore politics this week, I really was, until a line in the sand was crossed that strikes me as exceptionally dangerous.
Here’s the deal. We all know we live in a badly divided nation, and that we’re not in good shape. There have always been disagreements in America, but the last time the national discussion was so sharply divided and so unwilling to compromise we went to war against each other to decide whether slavery should be preserved or destroyed.
Six years before the Civil War began, an Illinois candidate for the U.S. Senate named Abraham Lincoln quoted the Bible (Mark 3:5) while correctly observing that “a house divided against itself cannot stand.”
Lincoln wasn’t referring to the garden-variety squabbles into which democracy often drifts. He was describing what happens when a nation reaches the point of no longer considering itself one nation, but two armed camps engaged in an uncivil cold (and occasionally hot) war over which side has the right to solely define truth, character and territory — a war in which civility is pointless, and compromise is no longer possible.
All of which may be the tar pit into which we are sliding.
Let me explain. The trigger for this little rant were two headlines that caught my eye this week that, when combined, point to yet another unfortunate escalation in our national animosity.
Last week, Congress finally approved a trillion-dollar infrastructure bill to begin repairing our decaying roads, bridges, docks, rails, runways, etc. We all know this work is long overdue, and it’s probably one of the last remaining things on which both Republicans and Democrats can agree.
So it was gratifying to see members of both parties voting for the bill. It was correctly hailed as a victory for bipartisanship. It showed us that Washington is still capable of coming together to take care of what we like to call the people’s business. Yay us.
But then two things happened.
Thing No. 1: After the vote, former President Donald Trump angrily kvetched that Republican assistance in passing the infrastructure bill was actually a bad thing. Here’s what he said in a statement after the vote—“Very sad that the RINO’s in the House and Senate gave Biden and Democrats a victory. … All Republicans who voted for Democratic longevity should be ashamed of themselves.”
Um, I have a problem with this. The infrastructure bill was about taking care of America’s needs, not the longevity of either political party. Roads and bridges are necessary for both Republicans and Democrats. Political parties exist to serve us, not the other way around. In my book, this is non-negotiable.
But in Washington, this kind of thinking is apparently now considered quaint—which brings us to Thing No. 2. In accord with the ex-president’s wishes, Republicans who voted for the infrastructure package are now being threatened by those in their own party. Rep. Matt Gaetz, R-Florida, summed things up by stating
that Republicans who vote for anything that smells of bipartisanship are now to be defined as “fighting for the Joe Biden agenda,” and that such Republicans deserve to be stripped of all committee assignments.
The effect of this is pretty obvious. Congressional Republicans are now being ordered to put the periodic rantings of now-private citizen Donald J. Trump ahead of the needs of their own constituents. Or else.
Personally, this stench-ridden squabble strikes me as snatching defeat from the jaws of a bipartisan victory. Perhaps it’s just the next inevitable step in the slow dissolution of our American experiment.
If nothing else, this week’s little Washington passion play provides more evidence of what we all know, but don’t want to admit — that even though we agree we need to come together, we’ve literally lost the vocabulary to achieve it. These days the only way we can conceive of unity is for the other guys to admit they were wrong, and that we were right all along. This is not likely to happen.
George Santayana once observed that “those who do not learn from history are doomed to repeat it.”
And so, like America in the time of Lincoln, we slide downhill, shouting at each other to repent, constantly raising the stakes, while the edge of the cliff comes ever-closer into view.
Chris Huston is an author and award-winning columnist living in southern Idaho. Connect with Chris on both Facebook and Instagram at Chris Huston-Finding My Way and at chrishustonauthor.com.