By PETER BERGER
By Peter Berger
When I was 10, John F. Kennedy was president-elect. That meant he’d won the election but wasn’t president yet because he needed time to get ready. In the meantime President Eisenhower was still president. Somewhere on the news I’m sure someone explained that we only have one president at a time.
Except this time we appear to have no president.
A century and a half ago, we found ourselves in similar straits. Lame duck James Buchanan, regarded until now as the worst president in United States history, dithered between his doubt that the Southern states could legally secede and his equally immobilizing doubt that he could legally do anything to stop them. President-elect Lincoln, not yet invested with the powers of office, could do little more than issue statements. By the time he was inaugurated, Fort Sumter had been reduced by siege to six weeks of rations.
Yesterday Donald Trump lost another five meritless election lawsuits. He denied Joe Biden’s national security team access to Defense Department intelligence agencies, and he escalated his pressure on Georgia officials to overturn the results of the election.
Not yet president, Mr. Biden, like Mr. Lincoln, is as yet without presidential power and can do little more than issue statements as the nation suffers. Yesterday Donald Trump, the man who will retain that power for another six weeks, again chose to exercise it to benefit his own vindictive, petty, selfish interests.
Meanwhile, the breadlines grew longer, and the virus killed another 2637 Americans.
Last summer Donald Trump granted clemency to longtime Trump operative Roger Stone, convicted on seven counts of obstruction, witness tampering, and lying to Congress. Stone this week announced he has “incontrovertible evidence,” which he predictably didn’t present, that North Korea smuggled in votes for Joe Biden via a harbor in Maine.
Someone should check his Netflix account for recent viewings of The Hunt for Red October.
Nearly four years ago, Donald Trump fired retired general Michael Flynn, his first national security adviser. Flynn subsequently twice confessed under oath in open court to lying. Pardoned by Trump on Thanksgiving, Flynn this week called for the defeated president to impose martial law, suspend the Constitution, and direct the military to conduct a “revote.”
When he wasn’t baselessly charging that the election was stolen, Donald Trump this week met with advisers to discuss preemptively pardoning twenty political associates, his family, and possibly himself.
Of the 247 Republican members of Congress, only twenty-seven have summoned the courage to publicly acknowledge that Joe Biden is the president-elect.
Judge after judge – Republicans and Democrats – has dismissed Donald Trump’s allegations and found no evidence of election fraud. Official after official, including Trump’s own attorney general, and every recount and audit, have confirmed the same incontrovertible election result.
Joe Biden won.
Donald Trump lost.
There has been no lack of inquiry. Challenges and charges have been heard and duly investigated. The verdict is in, and Republican leaders who withhold their affirmation that Joe Biden is the president-elect must reckon with this: If you discredit the result of a demonstrably free and fair election, whether through your speech or silence, you strike a blow against the government that held the election. If you overturn the results of that free and fair election, you overthrow that government.
It’s that simple, that final, and that treacherous.
Some will shake their heads and deny the gravity of their hedging. “It’s just politics,” they’ll say. “The country will be fine.”
Somewhere you’ve probably seen old photographs of 1865 Richmond or 1945 Berlin. Pile after pile of broken bricks and mortar – the destruction is utter and unmistakable, whether wrought by nineteenth century artillery or twentieth century aerial bombing.
Sometimes destruction is obvious like that. Other times, as after an earthquake, the ruin is harder to see – the hairline crack in a foundation, the invisible stress on steel that looks sound and whole until it fails catastrophically.
Some of you will accuse me of giving voice to hysteria. You rely on our republic’s strength and our Constitution’s genius. Consider, though, what gives any law or constitution its power. Traffic laws, for example, have only the power I’m willing to convey to them through my obedience. Sometimes I obey out of my desire to do right. Other times my fear of consequences, loss, and punishment motivates me.
Suppose my devotion to our Constitution is more lip service than love. Suppose I don’t even know what it says or means. Suppose I overestimate how much disobedience and abuse it and our nation can withstand before they crumble. Suppose I’m one of millions just like me. What chance do you give our country?
Now suppose you’re driving down a two-lane road. The law requires safe driving and imposes consequences for violations, but the driver coming at you doesn’t love the law, doesn’t know what it says or means. Suppose he thinks he’s above the law. Suppose he doesn’t fear consequences or believes he’s indestructible. Suppose you see him swerving farther and farther across the center line.
Suppose your children are in the car with you.
Last night Donald Trump lied again and claimed he’d won the election in a landslide.
The crowd cheered.
The Senate stayed silent.
A mad, lawless tyrant is bearing down on the nation.
And still its leaders shuffle on, heedless of the mortal hazard they can clearly see.
Peter Berger has taught English andhistory for 30 years. Poor Elijah would be pleased to answer letters addressed to him incare of the editor.
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