I wrote to "my" representative in Congress, Mark Meadows, on the subject of impeachment.  Here is what I said.

Text of my message to Mr. Meadows

I am remiss in not having told you this sooner, but I am in favor of an impeachment inquiry.

A more recent development: the White House refusal to cooperate with the inquiry is itself an impeachable offense.  Note that I said "is," not "may be."

So, there is no point in continuing the inquiry.  Instead, the correct course of action for the House is to hold a vote now, not on authorizing the inquiry, but on impeaching the President.  If such a vote is held, I would ask that you vote "yes."

Given your statements on related matters, I don't really expect you to do what I ask.  Indeed, if you really believe what you have said, then it is, in a sense, appropriate for you to vote according to your beliefs.

I simply regard it as my duty as a citizen to go on record as to what I believe you, and the House as a whole, should do.

Notes on my message

If it sounds like I was steamed, that's because I was.

Why did I say "So, there is no point in continuing the inquiry"?  I attempted to explain that here: Impeachment: Is It Time to Vote Now? (See "Note 2" therein).

Why did I say "… I don't really expect you to do what I ask"?  The above-referenced URL at The Well has something on that, too: see "Note 5."  But led me add: Meadows was, until recently, the chairman of the "House Freedom Caucus," which is "… considered the furthest-right grouping within the House Republican Conference" (according to Wikipedia).  Also, in 2012, when President Obama was up for re-election, Meadows said, "2012 is the time we are going to send Mr. Obama home to Kenya or wherever it is."  (You can see video of him saying it here, among other places.)

Other than that, he's a swell guy.  He may even believe most of what he says.

But seriously.  Perhaps the real reason I'm giving you all this background on Meadows is to make excuses for why I waited as long as I did to write to him about impeachment.

At any rate, it was on October 9 that I wrote to Meadows, and on October 12 that I posted the above-linked "… Is It Time to Vote Now?" tirade at The Well.  Then, on October 18, Meadows replied to me.  Below, I share the text of his reply.  It's "behind a cut"; for those not fully conversant with Dreamwidth-speak, that means that you have to click on "Read more" in order to see it.  I present it that way because it's on the long side — though I am mightily tempted to claim something about "potentially offensive content."

Read more... )

Comments on his reply

If you didn't read the whole thing, here are two partial sentences which I think pretty well sum it up.  First: "However, upon my reading the transcript of the call, it is evident the whistleblower’s key contentions were not accurate: …"  Second: "… and after reviewing the evidence, I stand with the President."

I was joking, above, about "potentially offensive content."  I don't really think that most people would find this letter "offensive" (except, perhaps, to the extent that they are offended by sophistry).  I will make only one concrete criticism: the man writes, in my insufficiently humble opinion, as if he doesn't understand the difference between fact and opinion.

I disagree with most of what Mr. Meadows says here.  But I am not particularly interested in condemning him.  His beliefs are whatever they are, and his motives are whatever they are.

Perhaps, like me, you will not find his attempts at persuasion convincing.  Or perhaps you will; if so, I'd be happy to talk with you about that, but would prefer to do so on a one-to-one basis.  It seems more efficient to hear what you have to say first, rather than to anticipate what you will say, and expend energy in trying to refute that.

When I wrote to Mr. Meadows, I didn't have much expectation of changing his mind.  So why did I bother to do it?  Partly because it puts me in a better position to exhort others to write to their own Congressbeings.  So, if you are eligible to do that, please consider yourself exhorted.


For someone who has already mouthed off about impeaching Donald Trump as much as I have, I am myself surprised at how little I feel like talking about it now.  Yes, I do want to be on record as favoring this newly declared "formal impeachment inquiry" (does the "formal" part mean top hat, white tie, and tails?).  But I haven't felt much enthusiasm for explaining why.

Let me do this, though: give you a peek into my crystal ball as to how I think things are likely to play out.

Impeachment itself: yes, more likely than not, the House will vote to impeach that bad boy.

Removal: will the Senate vote, with a 2/3 majority, to "convict" him, and thereby effectuate his removal from office?  This is harder to judge.  I guess, if I were forced to predict, one way or the other, I would say "no."

The conventional wisdom, however, seems to be that they certainly will not.  I think this degree of confidence (if that's the right word for it) is highly misplaced.

But let's assume that they don't, and further assume that this means that the 2020 general election will go forward with Trump as the Republican nominee.  Will he win?

I don't think so.  I make no claim to certainty about this, nor do I think I can meaningfully estimate a numerical probability.  But here's a question I do want to answer: will he be more likely to win, or less so, because of having gone through the impeachment process?

Less so, I think.  Having seen President Trump be impeached, and having seen however the Senate responds to that, will (I claim) make the electorate more likely to vote him out.

Of course, I make no claim to certainty about this, either.  It seems worth mentioning partly because once again, I think I am going against the conventional wisdom: that the consensus of the chattering class seems to be that impeachment, followed by acquittal in the Senate, would help him at the polls.

Oddly, those making this prediction have generally, in my experience, not said much about why they believe it to be so.  The only explanation that I can recall is this: the impeachment process will get Trump's supporters "more fired up" about re-electing him.

But will it?  I think that depends on which "Trump supporters" you are talking about.  For the really hard-core, "base" supporters, this prediction does, indeed, seem plausible to me.

But remember: no matter how fired up someone is, he or she only has one vote.

That being the case, it seems to be more relevant to ask, instead, about the effect on a different group: those who voted for Trump in 2016, but were not, and have not become, passionate true believers in his cause.  For that group of "supporters," my prediction is that the impeachment experience will probably reduce the number of them who will vote for him again.

It is also worth noting that impeachment's effect on the election results might not be so very big, one way or the other.

So I guess I have, sort of, said something about why I see the recent impeachment developments in a positive light: why I approve of the House Democrats' long-delayed decision to "formalize their relationship" with Mr. Trump.  At least, what I have said could be taken to imply an attempted rebuttal of the claim that "Impeachment may be justified, but it's political suicide."

What do you think?


Did what, now?  I went and wrote something more about impeachment, and put it out for the world to see ... but not here in my personal journal.


Then where?  In the Dreamwidth community called "talkpolitics" (talkpolitics.dreamwidth.org/).


The above URL is the general one for the "community journal".  If you want to go directly to my deathless prose about impeachment, here's the URL for that: talkpolitics.dreamwidth.org/2095001.html.


I posted it there on Saturday, May 11.  The title (or "subject line") for that journal entry is "Impeachment: It Comes Down to Courage."  While not representing any basic change of my position, it does "bang the drums for impeachment" a little more loudly than the last thing I posted on the subject, here in my journal.  Namely: "Oh no! Not impeachment again!" (edelsont.dreamwidth.org/8436.html, posted Monday, May 6).


I probably will not ... usually ... put an announcement here, like this one, every time I have posted something there, in "talkpolitics."  How often I do will depend, in part, on whether some folks ask me to.


 

I'm afraid so.  I can't resist the compulsion to revisit the topic of impeaching Donald Trump.


I already have twelve journal entries with the tag "impeachment."  That's more than for any other tag except (shudder) "Donald Trump" himself.  The first one was posted on November 7, 2017, and the most recent on April 22, 2019.


But the most recent entry in which I expressed an actual opinion on impeachment itself was the one with subject line "The impeachment question is really two questions," which was posted on March 17 of this year.  That's the one I shall now revisit.


Its first point, as its subject line suggests, is that it is worth separating two different questions about the impeachment of Trump.  The first question is whether that would be justifiable (morally, legally, constitutionally).  The second is whether it would be advisable: the best thing to do for the future of our nation.


Besides distinguishing the two questions, I also offered my own then-current answers to them.  To the first (Is it justified?), question, I gave a simple "yes." But on the second (Is it advisable?) question, I was much less definite: the strongest statement I could muster was that I "leaned toward" considering it advisable.


A lot has happened since then.  When I posted that, even Attorney General William Barr hadn't seen the Mueller report.  Now, its release has prompted a lot more discussion of impeachment than there had been before March 17.  From my perusal of those discussions, I have learned some things.


One thing I learned was that my own claim, that we should distinguish between two questions, was prescient.  The more recent debates about impeachment have actually been two debates. One, which plays out, very roughly, between Republicans and Democrats, is about whether impeachment (and removal) would be justifiable.  The other debate is between people (mostly Democrats) who agree with each other that it would be justifiable, but disagree about whether starting a formal impeachment proceeding now is, in some broader sense, a good idea.  So, approximately the same two questions I was posing way back when.


Most of the rest of the important things I have learned have come from paying attention to the second debate.  That question (We'd be perfectly justified in impeaching Trump, but should we actually do it?) hadn't been discussed much, in public, until recently.  So it has been very instructive to me to see the sorts of things that have been raised as arguments for, and against, the "yes, let's do it" position.


I'm not going to rehearse those pros and cons -- not in this journal entry.  But I am going to tell you that the process has changed my own mind on the second question.  Where before I merely "leaned toward" the idea that a formal impeachment inquiry should begin, I now firmly believe that it should.


At the same time, I still believe that it is a question about which reasonable people can disagree.  This is the remnant of the previous urge to hold back from stating a definite opinion. What's left of that urge no longer appears to me as doubt, but rather as epistemological modesty, that is, as the need to acknowledge that one cannot, in principle, be absolutely certain about anything.


If you'd rather not read any more rants from me on the subject of impeachment, you just might get your wish.  I'm not saying that I won't write any, just that I am thinking of posting them somewhere else than here in my personal Dreamwidth journal.


But if you really want me to stop banging the drums for impeachment completely, in any forum, there's one sure-fire way of making that happen: just do it.  Impeach the Orange Outrage, and get it over with.



 

Pencils down, boys and girls.  I asked you for your opinions on whether it is useful to call attention to threats of violence by Trump supporters.  I held back on expressing my own opinion on the subject, so as not to bias yours. But that grace period has now ended.


So, do I think it is useful?  A little. Not as much so as I thought as recently as yesterday.


The small amount of usefulness that I still perceive comes from this: if these threats of violence ever do turn into real violence, on a large scale, I think most people will find it easier to cope with this if it isn't a complete surprise.  But that is, at most, a good reason to bring it up occasionally; to keep harping on it would be counterproductive.


I had another kind of alleged usefulness in mind, when I made the original journal entry which contained samples of threats.  I thought that the existence of these threats was relevant, somehow, to a question currently facing us: whether to begin impeachment proceedings against President Trump.


I've changed my mind about that.  I no longer think it is relevant, one way or the other.


If you disagree, I would [still] welcome your input on the subject.  But otherwise ....


We now return you to your regularly scheduled programming.


 

Yesterday, I shared with you some reader comments that I found on Breitbart, on the subject of what would happen (according to the commenters) if President Trump is impeached.  What did they think would happen? In a word, violence.


I also said I "might" follow up with some comments and/or questions of my own, about those Breitbart comments.  And today, I shall, in a baby-step sort of way. All I have for you today is one question ... and I'm only going to ask it, not answer it.


The question is one which, I imagine, you might have voiced after reading yesterday's entry.  Namely: "Why is he telling us this?"


What I said was true: those comments were, in fact, posted on Breitbart.  But not everything that is true is worth saying. If I reported the comments to you, I must have had some point I wanted to make.  What was it?


But like I said, I'm not going to answer that -- not today.  Instead, I'm going to turn around and ask you the same question.  Well, not exactly the same question: I'm not asking you to try to guess what was in my mind.


What I want to ask you is this: do you think that there's any good reason to do what I did: to take selected violence-oriented comments that were posted on a right-wing site like Breitbart, and copy them here, for what will presumably be a different audience?

Or even more simply: rather than asking you whether you think there's a good reason to do it, let me just ask you whether you think it's a good idea to do it.  And why or why not?


I'd really like to hear from you on this.  Ideally, by posting a reply right here on Dreamwidth.  You don't have to be a Dreamwidth member in order to do that.  Just click on "Reply", below.


 

Sigh.  I return once again to the topic of politics, and specifically Donald Trump, and specifically impeachment.  In this particular journal entry, though, I am not going to offer any opinions on the subject, only facts.


First, a bit of background.  There has been more talk of impeachment recently: specifically, since the release of [the redacted version of] the report of Robert Mueller, the special counsel.  Yesterday, The New York Times reported that Elizabeth Warren had declared that "... the House [of Representatives] should initiate impeachment proceedings against the President of the United States."


I have noticed, in the past, that talk of impeachment [of this president] often leads to talk of violence: for example, to the prediction (or threat) that a move to impeach would result in "civil war."  I have observed this in various places, but mostly on the Web site which calls itself "Breitbart News Network."


(To be clear, I have never noticed threats of violence in the actual "news stories" on Breitbart -- only in the comments on those stories posted on the site by readers.)


So yesterday, I became curious as to whether any of that sort of comments would be attached to their [presumed] story on what Warren had said.  So I went to look. Did I find any?


Boy, did I ever.  Here is a selection.


...


Pitching gas on impeachment fire! ...

These folks shall find themselves on the business end of pitchforks and weapons...

They are oblivious to the massive fire needing but the spark of impeachment to ignite....


...


Didn't Warren lie on her applications about her race so she could get goodies? She should be in prison not the Senate. Democrats, keep pushing it. You are making it easier by the day to accept suspending the Constitution to round you up and put an end to your sedition and treason. Pigs.


...


Initiate impeachment and we declare open season....


...


Trump Disorder Syndrome can be cured with a .45 cal enema :)


...


Initiate it and the people will rise up and pound the Dems out of existence. Time to make Dems extinct.


...


I wouldn't mind one itty bitty bit if the next time PRESIDENT Trump leaves D.C., either Iran, north Korea, china, or Russia were to conduct a laydown consisting of 12 20-MT thermalnuclear devices while congress is busy in the capital building.

They would be doing the nation a world of good getting rid of those 500 plus leaches.

For a bonus they should lob 3 of the same weapons on each of the following; SHITcago, NYC, Boston, L.A., San Fran, Portland, and Seattle.


...


"Mueller Report Shows Obstruction, ‘Initiate Impeachment’"... Better idea...Lets break out the Rope and start mass ex e cutions of lying DemRats and MSM talking heads and take our country back


...


(End of quoted comments.)


I may, in future journal entries, have some comments on these comments, and/or questions about them.  For now, I shall let them speak for themselves.


I've been wanting to post a clarification—or, if you prefer, a correction—of my most recent post ("Q: How do you respond to a national emergency? A: Impeach the man who created it.").  A recent reply to that post has further prodded me to attempt that clarification.  So here goes.

In the original post, I certainly sounded like I was beating the drums for impeachment: "Do it!  Do it now!."  This doesn't make clear what question I was trying to answer.

A vague, generic formulation of the question would be something like: "Should we impeach (and remove) President Donald Trump?"  But here are two more precisely formulated questions:

  • Given what we know so far, would impeaching (and removing) Trump be justified?

  • Given what we know so far, would impeaching (and removing) Trump be advisable?

And my main point, today, is that these are two different questions, to which an individual might reasonably give different answers.  And when we talk about impeachment, we might understand each other better by making clear (as I did not), in any opinion we state, which question we are answering.

So what are my own answers to these two different questions?

To the question of whether removing Trump is justifiable, I answer "yes."  This is the question I was really focused on answering; in particular, whether removal is justified by his blatantly unconstitutional "declaration of emergency," even without considering his various other transgressions.

And behind that opinion, by the way, is a more general opinion, which I didn't even state explicitly: that an "impeachable offense" (an action which justifies impeachment and removal) need not be a crime: need not be something to which the law attaches a criminal penalty.  An attempt by the president to exceed his powers by doing something obviously unconstitutional is also an impeachable offense.

In fact, I'd go so far as to say that, other things being equal, a blatantly unconstitutional power grab, like this "emergency" declaration, is, other things being equal, more clearly an impeachable offense than is committing a crime, as such.  Abuse of power is, fundamentally, what the impeachment provision in the Constitution is for.

So I am doubling down on my original position, as clarified.  I strongly believe that, given the emergency declaration and its context, impeaching Trump and removing him from office would be justified.

But do I believe that it would be advisable?  My answer to that one is, in fact, different, at least in degree of conviction.  I lean toward believing it to be advisable, but I am far less certain of that.  I don't want to be a crusader for it, at least not at this time.  As I said in my reply to the anonymous comment, I think it may be just as well that that decision is not mine to make.


Now he's gone and done it.  Donald Trump has declared that a decades-old situation at the US - Mexican border has suddenly become a "national emergency."  He thinks that, having done so, he can now spend money on a "big, beautiful wall": money that Congress has, just now, refused to appropriate.

I don't think so, and I'm not alone.  The media have published various pieces on ways that he could be prevented from doing this.  One of those is Answers to 4 Key Questions About Trump’s Declaration of an Emergency, by Nicholas Fandos, published yesterday in The New York Times.

From the second paragraph of that story: "Lawmakers seeking to block the president have two paths — one in Congress, the other in the courts."  It becomes clear, a little further down, that the path "in Congress" that he has in mind is this: "Under the National Emergencies Act, the House and the Senate can take up what is called a joint resolution of termination to end the emergency status ...."

Well, yeah, they can do that.  What surprisingly few people have mentioned, so far, is that there's something else, something more decisive, that they can do.  That something is called impeachment.

I have posted a comment on that Times story.  The full text of my comment reads as follows:


From the story: "Lawmakers seeking to block the president have two paths ...."

That is not correct.  There is a third option, and it is the one that I recommend.

The House of Representatives can vote to impeach the president, and the Senate can remove him from office.

This so-called "state of emergency" is utterly unlike any declared before.  Let's call it what it is: an attempt to overthrow the Constitution.

As such, it is fully sufficient, even without the other high crimes and misdemeanors of which we know or suspect, to justify removing him from office.

And there is no need for committee hearings.  The House, at least, could have its floor vote today.


Just a few things to clarify, in relation to the last post (the one with the subject line, "Pity our underprivileged president ...").

Do I really think we should pity him, or consider him "underprivileged"?  Absolutely.  If you could choose, wouldn't you prefer being mentally privileged, rather than financially so?

What do I mean by "we should fire [him]"?  I mean that the House of Representatives should impeach him, and the Senate should remove him from office.

I've written, in this journal, on the subject of impeachment before.  I made myself sound dubious on the subject.  But I never really said we shouldn't impeach him; only that the time didn't seem right to put energy into promoting the idea.

I think that has changed.  Don't you?

Specifically, I am now prepared to say that it's time to begin impeachment proceedings.

Why?  Well, I won't pretend that a Democratic majority in the House is totally irrelevant to my coming to this conclusion.  But it's not really the reason for it.

Then what is?  I won't attempt a comprehensive, general answer to this (not here and now, at least).  For one thing, new facts have come to light.  Also, other contributors to the public debate have, in the interim, come to the same change in, or clarification of, their positions; I generally agree with their reasoning.

There's really only one [more?] substantive point that I want to make, here, and even that one will be somewhat abbreviated.  I just want to take a shot at answering this question: how can I say that it's time to get to work on firing the poor bastard, when in just the last post, I said that we need to emphasize Donald Trump's incompetence more, and his evil nature less?

Now, why is that even a question?  Because the Constitution has that infamous phrase: a president (or other official) may be impeached for (and, apparently, only for) "high crimes and misdemeanors."

There is nothing like consensus on what, exactly, that phrase means.  Indeed, there may simply be no answer as to exactly what it means.  There does, in my reading, seem to be something close to a consensus on one thing that it doesn't mean: the most respected scholars on the subject seem to agree that an "impeachable offense" is not, always and necessarily, a crime in the penal-code sense.

And yet, and yet.  Those words, "high crimes and misdemeanors," continue to bedevil us.  So, for that matter, does the phrase "impeachable offense" (emphasis added).  These usages nudge us into thinking that valid grounds for impeachment must be something like being guilty of a crime.  In particular, they make us reluctant to think that it would be proper to "fire" someone, under this process, "merely" for incompetence.

And shouldn't we be reluctant to do that?  At this point, the best I can do is to answer the question with a question: how reluctant should we be?  I agree with the intuition that we don't want the House and Senate to feel that they can remove the president whenever they feel like it.  But that doesn't give us a set of criteria, an algorithm that will tell us, or them, when it is Constitutionally proper to take this step.

Maybe it's just not possible to frame a usable set of criteria for this.  Maybe such decisions can only reasonably be made in examining the facts of a concrete case.  Maybe we need to say, today, about "impeachable offense," what I believe a Supreme Court justice did say, years ago, about pornography: "I can't define it, but I know it when I see it."

Essentially, I do believe that.  At least the part about its being impossible to frame an explicit, algorithm-like set of criteria for what constitutes an impeachable offense.  But I also think that there is more that can usefully be said about what would constitute a fair-minded approach to such a decision, in the matter of Donald Trump.

There is more to be said, but I am not prepared to say it now.


The last three entries in this journal, like this one, all had subject lines beginning with "Impeachment: Why Not?"  None of them, however, was about reasons not to impeach President Trump.  Instead, they were about reasons why one might not choose to spend time, in the current situation, promoting the impeachment of President Trump.  See the difference?

The same is true of this one, except for one thing.  This isn't about why "one" might not "choose to spend time ... promoting the impeachment of President Trump."  This is more specific: not why "one" might not, but why I, personally, might not choose to keep on spending time on this.  (In fact, the chances are that, in the near future, I won't.)  There's more than one such personal reason, but, to a first approximation, they all boil down to one thing.

Reason Four: I Don't Want To

Okay, why don't I want to?

For one thing, I've developed a real craving to spend some time on things that have nothing to do with politics.  Computer programming, for instance.  It would be such a relief to take a break from worrying about mushy things like how to persuade someone of something.  With programming, it's much more straightforward: you write the program, you run it, and it either works or it doesn't.

And besides that, even when it is about politics -- even when it is about dealing with the nightmare that is the Trump presidency -- I'm not that sure that working for impeachment is the only way to go.  I can't shake the feeling that maybe what I, personally, really need to do is to move to Canada.  I'm not 100% sure about that, but I've reached the point where I am sure that I need to devote some serious time and energy to exploring that possibility more deeply.

At this point, my divided self manifests again.  To say such things, even in my head, provokes an angry response from another part of my mind.  It's a little like the argument I had with the lady in the peanut gallery, back in the entry headed "Impeachment: Are We There Yet?"  But this time, I will make it more obvious that I am arguing with myself, by presenting it as a dialogue between two "sides": the prosecution and the defense.

Prosecution: I am shocked -- shocked! -- that you would even consider such a selfish response.  You want to go off and write computer programs?  Isn't that a lot like fiddling while Rome burns?

And as for moving to Canada, that may be even worse.  You'd really save your own sorry butt, without a thought for the poor souls left behind?  I thought you were better than that.

Defense: That seems a little harsh.  With regard to the computer programming and other such alternate activities: when you have a big long-term project, sometimes you just need to take a break and do something else for a while.  It will probably benefit the project, in the long run, because you will come back to it fresher.

But more fundamentally, I'm not sure that this impeachment process is meant to be my project ... any more, at least.  Maybe I've already done the part of it that I'm even minimally qualified to do.

I can convince myself that there are good grounds for impeachment, in principle, based on what we already know, and on my own understanding of the Constitution.  But I already noted, back under "Impeachment: Why Not? (Reason 2)," that I am likely not the best person to convince others of this, if only because I am not a lawyer.

Besides, the question before us is not merely whether impeachment is justified, "in principle."  It's whether we should be throwing our efforts into making impeachment (and removal from office) actually happen.  And even if you assume that we could succeed in that -- maybe after the midterm elections? -- are we sure that it would be the best thing for the country?  (Assuming, again, that the grounds for impeachment are "just" the things we already know: that Trump hasn't, in the interim, made a blatant grab for dictatorial power.  If he does, that will change things.)

Because speaking for myself, I am not convinced, at least not yet (that removing Trump from office, before the end of his first term, and absent the "smoking gun," would be the best thing for the country).  I am not, however, aiming to start a discussion of whether it would be.  My point is simply that I don't feel like I'm the best qualified person to render an opinion on this.

In fact, I am sure that I am not qualified -- let alone the "best" qualified -- to render such an opinion.  Not at the moment, at least.  I am sure of this because I find that I don't even have an opinion on it ... not one that I'd feel comfortable sharing.

Perhaps I could develop one, in time.  But that's just "perhaps."  And, even if you assume that I could, I have no idea how long that would take.  I am almost sure that the only way I could do it, with real confidence in the result, would be ... wait for it ... first to clear my mind by taking a break from struggling with these issues, and, yes, to spend some time writing computer programs or something.

Prosecution: Unbelievable.  You are such a wimp (even if I, being you, say so myself).  Do you think that this is some sort of game?  The fate of the world may, quite literally, be at stake.

And you seem to be assuming that you can just take a pass, and someone else will take care of it.  But maybe you are the only one who can!  Maybe you are the one person who can think this through deeply enough, and find the right words to explain your conclusion, so that any rational person can read, and learn the truth.

Mind you, I can't prove that you are "the one."  But with so much at stake, since you can't prove that you're not the one person who can do it, aren't you obligated to try, whether you "want to" or not?

Defense: Got you, you self-righteous son of a bitch!  You fell right into my trap.

Prosecution: Huh?  What trap?

Defense: Let's grant you, "for the sake of the argument" (as we philosophers like to say), that you could get me, with continued liberal application of the whip, to write something that was ... acceptable.  Something that got the job done: that showed us all the safest way to get out of the Trump mess.

Except that in the real world, we'd never be really sure how much the outcome had been influenced by this thing I wrote.  Nor would we really know whether someone else could have written it, and maybe would have, if I had not.

But never mind that.  Here's something you can take to the bank.  If I actually did write something that was even potentially that important, then, before I finished it, I'd have at least half convinced myself that I actually was the only person who could have written it.  I know this for a fact, because it's happening to me right now.  And you know it too, because I'm you.

Prosecution: Yadda yadda.  What's all this about a trap?

Defense: You're going to have to put some big boy pants on, and be patient.  I'm getting there.

Now where was I?  Oh, yes.  I was saying that I would at least half convince myself that I really was the only person who could have written it.  And that would start me down a very dangerous path.

Prosecution: What are you talking about?

Defense: Once you start believing grandiose things like that about yourself, you can't stop.  It becomes an addiction: you keep on convincing yourself of more of them.  I -- we -- would be in serious danger of turning into another Donald Trump.

Prosecution: What ... oh.  I think I see where you're going with this.

Defense: Good; that means you're not as stupid as you look.  You remember, it was part of his standard stump speech.  He'd do his bad imitation of a hellfire-and-brimstone preacher, except he wasn't talking about the hereafter, he was talking about how awful everything supposedly was right now.  And then he'd finish that riff with these five words: "Only I can fix it."

Prosecution: [nods]

Defense: Which would have been fine, I guess; it was great theater ... for a certain sort of audience.  But then he had to go and win the damn thing.  So then everybody was watching him, to see if he could deliver.  And you know how that turned out.

So think about it.  Do you really want us to end up like he did?  The laughingstock of the planet?

Prosecution: [remains silent]

Defense: I didn't think so.


In the last entry (http://edelsont.dreamwidth.org/3099.html), I had more to say about some possible grounds for impeachment of Donald Trump, grounds which I had originally laid out two entries earlier than that.  I said that impeachment on those grounds (while I do think it justified) would be difficult: in particular, that it would be difficult to get public acceptance for it, because it doesn't fit very well with people's preconceptions about what "grounds for impeachment" ought to look like.

This is as good a place as any to acknowledge a sad fact.  There is a segment of the public which will, almost certainly, never "accept" the impeachment of Trump, no matter what grounds are given.  Perhaps not even if he stood in the middle of Fifth Avenue and shot someone (to repurpose an example which he himself offered, during the 2016 general election campaign).  I'm not sure how they would justify rejecting impeachment after he did that, but I am confident that they would find a way.  Calling it justifiable homicide, perhaps.

But I digress.  It's probably true that you'll never convince everybody, but still.  My original suggested grounds for impeachment, namely failure to defend against Russian hacking, face some particular obstacles which are not common to every imaginable case for impeachment.  So it's not unreasonable to ask whether we really need to undertake to do it the hard way.  In other words ....

Reason Three: Perhaps an Easier Way Will Turn Up

Perhaps, for example, solid evidence will turn up that Mr. Trump has, indeed, committed an actual crime.  A serious one, and one that is clearly relevant to whether we can continue to entrust him with the powers of the presidency.  Alternatively, maybe he will commit one, with those same properties ... and nice and easy to prove.

Or, of course, perhaps not.  Perhaps no such evidence of a suitable past crime will turn up.  There's more than one reason why it might not; in particular, we can't rule out with certainty the possibility that he hasn't committed one.

And it's conceivable that he might manage to avoid criminal transgressions going forward, as well.  So where does that leave us?

I shall answer that question with another question: What do we mean by "us"?

What I mean is: people who would prefer that Donald Trump not finish his first term as president.  That is, in effect, an unspoken assumption behind this whole series of journal entries.

Now let me clarify right away: I don't mean to assert that I am entitled to assume this.  I don't claim that "any reasonable person" would share this preference.  All I mean, in calling this an "assumption," is that what I am writing is primarily addressed to those who do share it.  That's because those are the people who have the clearest reason to care about the questions that I am raising.

The most recent of those questions is "Where does that leave us?"  In the context, what that means is: given that we would prefer that Trump not finish his term ... and given that I have offered a case for impeachment that could, perhaps, be successfully pursued, but with difficulty ... and given that an easier way to make the case for removing him from office might turn up, but also might not ... what should we do now?

That depends.  (Of course it does, but on what?)  Well, each of the three considerations noted in the last paragraph is a matter of degree.  Here are three questions:

  • How important (and urgent) is it to you that Trump not finish his first term?

  • How feasible do you think that it would be to bring about an impeachment based on grounds like my suggested "failure to protect us from hacking by the Russians"?

  • How likely do you think it is that more straightforward grounds for impeachment will come along?

Now imagine that you could express your answer to each of those questions in the form of a number.  And let's make the question, "What should we do now?", more specific: "Should we be trying to make a case for impeachment based on 'failure to protect'?"

Then I suggest that:

  • The higher your numerical answer to the first question ("How important?"); and

  • the higher your answer to the second ("How feasible?"); and

  • the lower your answer to the third ("How likely?") ...

... the more likely it is that you "should" answer the final question, "Should we be trying to make a case ...?", with a "yes".  Or in summary: if you want the result, and you think "doing it the hard way" is feasible, and you aren't very confident that an easier way will come along ... then go ahead and try to do it the hard way.

I've presented a sort of decision procedure: suppose that you are a member of the House of Representatives, and you are already personally convinced that impeaching President Trump is a good idea (meaning some combination of: it would be better for the country, and the reasons for doing so also fit the "permissible" grounds for impeachment, under your own interpretation of the Constitution).  So you have to decide whether publicly to start a move for impeachment, now, or wait.  What goes before, in this journal entry, is offered as a possible framework for making that decision.

Before finishing, I want to mention that this "decision procedure" could, perhaps, be generalized somewhat.  In particular, one might allow for different versions of what counts, within the procedure, as "doing it the hard way."

So far, I've used that phrase to represent a particular "hard way" of arguing for impeachment: the one based on the theory first laid out three entries ago, under the heading "Impeachment: Are We There Yet?" (http://edelsont.dreamwidth.org/2719.html).  That theory, again, was that we have an "impeachable offense" sitting right in front of us, with no need to wait for more findings from the special prosecutor's investigation; and that "offense" consists of a failure to defend us against Russian efforts to interfere with our election (even if Trump had done nothing actively in support of that interference).

But our hypothetical Congressbeing could have something else in mind, as her example of "doing it the hard way."  That is, she could believe that something else that Trump has done, and that we already know about, constitutes grounds for impeachment.  Furthermore, in order for it to count as "the hard way," it would have to be similar to my specific example in some ways: her "impeachable offense" would have to be something other than a crime explicitly defined as such in the statute books, and/or something for which we do not [yet] have evidence sufficient to prove it beyond a reasonable doubt.

In any such case that we could imagine, she would be in a similar position to the one we found ourselves in, starting with my own specific example of an alleged, publicly-known "impeachable offense."  That is, in deciding whether to wade in, and make an all-out effort to procure an actual vote for impeachment on her chosen grounds, she'd have to balance how strongly she felt about it, and the difficulty of persuading her colleagues to agree, against the likelihood that the same result might be procured more easily, if she waited for something more like a "smoking gun" to be offered up by the special prosecutor's investigation.

And therefore, my "decision procedure" could be useful in a wide range of cases, not just in the particular one which I dreamed up, having to do with failure to protect the nation from Russian hacking.

That "decision procedure" is way cool, is it not, even if I say so myself?  It's almost like an algorithm that could be run on a computer.  You just plug in your three input numbers, turn the crank, and then act according to the results.

You're welcome.


Two entries back, I offered you an admittedly half-baked argument for impeaching (and removing) President Trump, based only on what we knew at the time.  I also promised you an explanation of why I was not planning to press forward, right away, to make that argument more fully baked.

One entry back, I gave you part of that explanation.  I said that I saw no hurry about building out the case for impeachment, given that there was at least one thing that the Congress needed to attend to more urgently than impeachment.  That would be the passage of a "no first use of nuclear weapons" law.

In that same entry, I said that this "nuclear thing" was only one of the reasons "why not," and that I had three more reasons in mind.  This time around, I plan to tell you about one more of the reasons.

But first, I want to clarify a couple of points.  The first is to emphasize that when I speak of a "reason why not," I don't mean -- at least, not primarily -- a reason not to impeach.  I mean a reason why I am not devoting my energy to arguing for impeachment.  Sometimes, a reason for the one may also serve as a reason for the other.  But not always.

And furthermore -- here comes the second clarification -- I'm also not giving reasons not to argue for impeachment, as such.  Rather, they are reasons why I'm not devoting energy to strengthening the particular argument for impeachment which I introduced two entries earlier.

(As you may recall, the crux of that argument was that it was the president's duty to improve our defenses against foreign manipulation of our election processes, and that his abject failure to perform that duty could be grounds for impeachment, even if we assumed that he was not himself actively complicit in those manipulations.)

With those points made, I am ready to get on with telling you about the second reason.

Reason Two: There's a Lot of Groundwork Involved

It is something of a truism that impeachment is a hybrid process: quasi-judicial, but also quasi-political.  One way that the latter is true is this: the process is actually performed by elected officials, that is, politicians (members of the House of Representatives, and then the Senate).  Unlike federal judges, these people are elected for finite terms; if they want to remain in their respective positions, they need to be re-elected.  And it is a simple fact, whether we like it or not, that this need has an effect on the way they do their jobs.  In particular, it means that they are concerned about what the voters will think of their actions.

Yes, in the real world, they are also concerned about what potential donors of campaign funds will think.  But in this particular discussion, I think we can afford the luxury of not focusing on that.  Instead, I am drawing attention to the difference between "What will the voters think?" and "What is the right thing to do?"  Federal judges are appointed for life, and the framers of the Constitution made that decision so that judges, unlike members of the House and Senate, could do what they thought was correct, in interpreting the law, and be relatively unconcerned about public opinion.

So ... the framers took this particular pair of responsibilities (impeachment and removal), and put it in the hands of people who -- by the nature of their jobs -- do care about public opinion.  In particular, it is safe to assume, when they think about impeaching or removing a public official, that they care about whether the voters back home will think that what they are doing is proper.

What are the voters likely to think about that?  That depends, partly, on whether those voters want to see the official in question -- in this case, President Trump -- remain in office.  And that in turn depends, partly, on their political views.

But not entirely.  A fair fraction of the voters are aware, if only vaguely, that impeachment is also a quasi-judicial process.  They know that the Constitution says something (though not much) about the permissible "grounds" for impeachment; that is, about the criteria that Congressbeings are supposed to use in making impeachment-related decisions.  Quite a few, by now, have at least heard the phrase "Treason, Bribery, or other high Crimes and Misdemeanors".

In short, many people do understand that this is a difference between our system and a parliamentary democracy.  In the latter, the legislature can dismiss the chief executive simply because they no longer approve of the way she is doing her job.  Under the US Constitution, it's not supposed to work that way.

Furthermore, not only do quite a few people know this, but a significant fraction of those people care about it, too.  They believe in following the rules.  So there are many people who would like to see President Trump gone (including, but not limited to, most of those who did not vote for him), but not all of those people automatically favor impeachment.  They won't favor that until and unless they are convinced that it is being done on Constitutionally authorized grounds.

On the other hand, there isn't a lot of clarity about what that phrase -- particularly the "high Crimes and Misdemeanors" part -- means.  Particularly among the general public.  I suspect that most folks are under a mistaken impression about this.  They think that impeachment requires the subject to be guilty of an actual crime: something explicitly prohibited in the statute books.  Along with this, they probably also think that, in the Senate "trial" phase of the impeachment process, this guilt must be established by the same standard of proof that is used in criminal trials: "beyond a reasonable doubt."

I call these beliefs "mistaken," because, having read one short book on the subject, I think I know that neither of them is the consensus view among legal scholars.  On the other hand, "mistaken" may be the wrong word, if only because there is no person or institution empowered to rule authoritatively on these things.  Gerald Ford was probably thinking about this latter fact when he expressed the opinion that an "impeachable offense" is whatever the members of the House and Senate, at the time, think it is.

That opinion about the permissible grounds for impeachment -- we might call it the "Ford doctrine" -- amounts to saying that impeachment is a political process, not a judicial one.  Whether or not you believe that it should be that way, one thing seems clear.  Assume I was right, earlier, in saying that most Congressbeings, when considering impeachment or removal, will give some thought to whether "their" voters will approve of what they decide.  If so, then, as a matter of practical fact, the Ford doctrine is at least partly correct.

That brings us close to the conclusion that I teased in the section heading, above: "There's a lot of groundwork involved."  To establish that, I just need one more premise, concerning the particular "case for impeachment" that I laid out two journal entries ago.  Namely: that argument did not claim that President Trump has committed a literal, on-the-books crime.

Given that fact about my argument ... and given the supposition that most of the public thinks, mistakenly or not, that crime is the only legitimate grounds for impeachment ... and given that the Congressional mind cares about public opinion ... it follows that you aren't going to get an impeachment, on the grounds I suggested, without doing a lot of public education first.  (If you prefer a more neutral word, substitute "persuasion" for "education.")  People will need to get used to the idea that the permissible grounds for impeachment are not that narrow.

Some voters will be much less receptive to the idea than others.  That will depend, at least partly, on whether the voters in question, legal arguments aside, like the idea of removing Trump from office.  In other words, it puts us squarely back in the political side of the process.

With the particular "case for impeachment" that I presented, it may be even a little more challenging than that.  Based on my extremely limited reading in the legal literature, that is.  That's because ... while those authors seem to have a consensus that a genuine, lock-'em-up-style crime is not required for impeachment ... almost all of what they say still uses the language of "offense" (as in "What constitutes an impeachable offense?")  My "case," on the other hand, turns on a failure by President Trump to perform the duties of his office, and it's not entirely clear how to fit that into the concept of "offense," even when the latter is taken in the looser, not-necessarily-criminal sense.

I'm not saying that it can't be done, just that it will take some work.  And in fact, there are places where the scholarship does seem to referring, obliquely, to cases of failure to perform one's duty.  I just haven't seen anyplace where "grounds" of that type are addressed head-on.

If they haven't been, then that's another chunk of "groundwork" that needs to be done.  Of course, that again raises the question: if it needs to be done, why don't I just get on with it?

Part of the answer to that question is quite simple: I am not a lawyer, let alone a "legal scholar."  Someone with those qualifications could probably do a better job at clarifying these points about "proper" grounds for impeachment.  And that person would definitely stand a better chance of being listened to.


Last time out, in the entry headed "Impeachment: Are We There Yet?," I presented a rough sketch of a claim that President Trump is impeachable right now.  I readily admitted that it wasn't complete: that I myself didn't really think I had proven my case.  Furthermore I said I would not, in the near future, attempt to make it complete.  I promised that I would, in the following entry (this one), give my reasons why I don't plan to do that.

Events have intervened, so that my plans have partly changed: I now intend to fulfill, in this entry, only part of that promise.  As recently as two days ago, my intention was to list as many as four reasons "why not."  But as it turns out, I will list only one of them, leaving the others for another time.

By the way, the one reason I will mention today is the one that I was planning to mention first.  So without further ado, here it is.

Reason One: The Nuclear Thing Takes Priority

By "the nuclear thing," I mean the position that I took, principally in http://edelsont.dreamwidth.org/2160.html, to the following effect: Congress needs to pass a law saying that, absent a declaration of war (or similar Congressional authorization), the president may not order the "first use" of nuclear weapons.  "First use" means attacking with nuclear weapons, other than in response to a prior nuclear attack by the enemy.

And what do I mean when I say of this "thing" that it "takes priority"?  I mean that Congress needs to attend to it first, because the need for it is greater, and more urgent.  Once they have protected us from nuclear war, then we can allow them to move on to the fun stuff, like impeaching Trump.

That's really all that needs to be said, under the heading of stating "reason one," and offering some justification for it.  One might ask, however: what made me change my mind?  Why did I decide to present only "reason one" today, when I had been intending to include three more reasons in the same journal entry?

The short answer to that: in my view, over the last few days, the "nuclear thing" has gotten even more urgent.  So I want to post something fast, and not to dilute the impression that it makes.

Okay then; what has happened to make me say that this issue has gotten [even] more urgent than it already was?  For one thing, North Korea has tested another ballistic missile.  And so it seems likely that the Trump administration is now engaged in deciding what, if anything, should be done in response.  Military responses (perhaps among others) are possibly being considered.

Notice that I am not taking a position as to whether a military response should seriously be considered at this time.  For all I know, if one had all the relevant intelligence information, a reasonable person might conclude that military action is now, regrettably, necessary.

To me, though, that makes it even more important that Congress act now to prevent the one deadliest kind of military action: the first use of nuclear weapons.  That is one option which should not even be on the table.

Besides the ballistic missile test, there is one other recent development which pushes my thoughts in the same direction.  (Well, maybe more than one; but one can stand in for the others.)  This one is different in that it has no obvious connection with the subject of nuclear weapons.

What might that be?  Why, the "Access Hollywood" tape, of course!  (I am kidding about the "of course" part, but only about that.)  More specifically, I am referring to the fact, which has only recently been published, that President Trump is now denying that the tape is real: denying that he even said those regrettable things, such as the bit about grabbing women by the feline parts.  (When the tape first came to light, he didn't deny saying it, and in fact he made a sincere-sounding apology for doing so.  He only denied actually doing the things that he boasted about on the tape.)

Here's a link to a one-day-old New York Times story about this: http://www.nytimes.com/2017/11/28/us/politics/trump-access-hollywood-tape.html.

You may be thinking: yes, Trump seems to be unmoored from the truth on that one.  But so what?  It's not like that's anything new.  How can I claim that this relatively trivial thing is important enough to affect such a weighty matter as a law on the first use of nuclear weapons?

A fair question.  I certainly do agree that there's nothing new or surprising about Donald Trump's saying something that isn't true.  However, this one feels different.  The difference isn't in the intrinsic importance of the subject matter; it's in what this particular untruth seems to say about the mental state of the man who uttered it.

Ironically, you see, what's so disturbing about this one is that it doesn't sound like a lie.  It sounds, instead, like a delusion, and I don't mean that metaphorically; I mean a full-blown, psychotic delusion.  (I am not a mental health professional, but I do have some experience with such phenomena.  By all means, let's get some shrinks to weigh in on this.)

Why does this particular departure from reality seem, to me, more like a delusion than like a lie?  My best guess: because it sounds like a man who is not even trying to check his notions against the facts.  And, perhaps an even stronger indication of this: he also doesn't sound like he's even pretending to try.  When he makes such a statement, having previously said the opposite, the impression I get is that the question "But is it true?" just never arises in his mind.  It's as if the very possibility of asking that question is outside his realm of awareness.

Which scares you more, a man who lies or a man with delusions?  I rather think that that depends on the context.  If you are negotiating a business deal or a tax bill, lying might prove the greater obstacle to a satisfactory result.  The motivating force behind a lie is what the liar wants someone else to believe.

What if, instead, the subject of concern is the president, and he is currently engaged in deciding whether to order a nuclear attack?  Then "what he wants someone else to believe" doesn't enter into it.  At least not under the present state of the law, where there is no constraint on his power to decide as he chooses ... including, in particular, no requirement that anyone else concur with his decision.

In that situation, what is, instead, relevant is what he himself believes -- at the moment.  Has he convinced himself that all the people in North Korea are engaged, right now, in a magical working which will, if not immediately stopped, throw the planet out of its orbit?  Then his decision will be based on that, exactly as if it were real.

And that's why Donald Trump's recent denials of the reality of the Access Hollywood tape scare the hell out of me.  And out of you too, I hope.  Let's get this man's finger off the nuclear trigger.


I more-or-less promised that I would write something about impeachment.  And so I shall.  In particular, I shall explore whether there are grounds for impeachment based on what we already know.

I'll say right up front: my gut feeling is that there are.  We could, in principle, impeach the president without waiting for investigative results: all the needed facts are lying in plain view.  Those facts, if viewed correctly, supply good grounds for impeachment, and removal from office, of President Trump.

Note that when I say "good grounds," I mean that impeachment (and removal ...) would be justified, in a legal / constitutional sense, and in the light of the threats which a continued Trump presidency pose to our nation.  Whether impeachment and removal would be politically possible, or politically advisable at this time, are separate questions.

But even given that limitation on what I would try to show -- that impeachment is legally justifiable, not that it is also politically advisable -- I am not going to prove that this is so, or even attempt to.  The most that I will do is to give an idea of what a valid argument for impeachment might look like.  A sample argument, let's say ... and to make it easier to understand, let's base it on a simplified version of the real-world facts.

Before even starting to develop my sample argument, let's look at a preliminary question: what kinds of things can be grounds for impeachment?  Under our Constitution, Congress can't throw the president out because of just any presidential action of which it disapproves.  So if not all kinds of "bad decisions" are grounds for impeachment, what kinds are?

I referred, above, to "... the threats which a continued Trump presidency pose to our nation."  There are many such threats, of various kinds.  For purposes of impeachment, though, I would focus on one kind: threats to the Constitution.

"Threat to the Constitution" is a hackneyed phrase, these days, but what does it actually mean?  Here's a partial answer, for free: it does not refer to a danger that someone will break open the vault holding the official copy of the Constitution, and burn it.  (There is no "official copy."  The original of the document is kept in secure storage, but that is because of its historic, and symbolic, value; the possibility of its destruction is not a "threat to the Constitution" in the relevant sense.)

If that's not what we mean by a threat to the Constitution, then what is?  I suggest that the phrase refers to a threat to the functioning of the Constitution; that is, to the functioning of the United States government (and state governments ...) in accordance with the [United States] Constitution.

With that much said, I can begin to describe my "sample argument" for impeachment: a hypothetical example of presidential conduct that would constitute a threat to the Constitution.  Except that, in the example chosen, it's not exactly that the president's actions are the threat: the original threat comes from outside.  But the president's conduct makes the threat worse.

Suppose that some foreign country (unnamed, because this is a hypothetical example) were engaged in intensive efforts to undermine the functioning of our Constitution.  These efforts, we suppose, are ongoing, and they have multiple goals.  Sometimes they are directed at causing a specific candidate to win an election.  At other times, the goal is more diffuse (but just as toxic): to increase polarization, and thereby increase mutual distrust, in the American population.  Hitting a home run, in respect to this latter sort of goal, would consist of pushing our nation into at least a partial state of anarchy.

Some readers, at this point, might be bursting to say: "How can you stand there with your teeth in your mouth and call this a 'hypothetical example'?  It's just like our real, current situation!"

Ah, but I haven't finished describing the example yet.  Here's how it differs from the SCR (Sad Current Reality): in the SCR, something additional is alleged: that the current president, or members of his posse, actually "colluded" (whatever that means) with the hostile foreign power in question.  And because of the sensational nature of that second accusation, discussion has focused mostly on it, and less attention is being given to the underlying issue of the foreign interference itself.

Suppose that were not the case.  Suppose that there was no suspicion at all that the president, or any of his associates, were in any way complicit with the foreign interference.  The foreigners were doing it entirely on their own.

On the other hand, the hypothetical situation, let us stipulate, is also similar to the real one (as I see it) in some ways.  For one thing, suppose that no reasonable person doubts that foreign attempts at interference are happening, and are having some effect.  There is no indication that the actual counting of votes was (successfully) tampered with, in the last general election, but it does seem clear that it was attempted.

And suppose that we also know, because our intelligence professionals tell us so, that these pesky foreigners planted a lot of false stories (while making those stories appear to have come from Americans) on social media (and sometimes in other media as well).  It is impossible to know whether or not anyone, as a result of their exposure to these false stories, voted differently from the way he or she otherwise would have.  But it's certainly possible, and we can't even conclusively rule out the possibility that the overall results would have been different.

If you were living in this alternative reality, and were aware of these foreign efforts to influence our political process, I suspect that you would be concerned about them.  You might even go so far as to declare that what these bad people across the water are doing constitutes a threat to our Consitution.  And your next thought might be: "Our government needs to doing something about this!"

Just for example: remember that the bad guys made some effort to hack into the computer systems that actually count the votes.  We're confident that these systems were not actually compromised, but if Boris and Natasha are working on improving their techniques, the outcome next time might be different.  Clearly this calls for a major effort on our part to improve the security of these systems.  Or so, I suspect, you would be inclined to think.

Here we learn that an Alternate Reality can be Sad, just like the Current Reality.  For it turns out that, in the SAR we are looking at, this major "secure the systems" effort is just not happening.  Some states may be trying to do something about it on their own, but there is no nationwide coordination: nothing from the federal level.

Why not?  Well, to do this right would require cooperative efforts by multiple agencies of the federal government.  And successful interagency cooperation on this level hardly ever happens without active leadership by the President of the United States.  And as hard as it may be to imagine this, those active efforts by the POTUS, in this SAR, are ... just not happening.

To strain your credulity even further, here's something even more odd.  The hypothetical president is not just refraining from issuing the needed hypothetical orders.  He is even, from time to time, doing things that could be reasonably expected to impede whatever security efforts the various agencies are putting forward on their own.

No, he's not calling up agency heads and demanding that they stop.  Not that we know of, anyway.  What he is doing, quite publicly, is letting it be known that he is not convinced that the foreign efforts at interference even exist.

His way of doing this varies from day to day, based on ... something.  (His mood?  Who knows?)  Sometimes he just mutters that he has doubts, or that the denials by the foreign leader sound sincere to him.  At other times, he is more assertive, declaring that all the accounts of such foreign efforts to interfere in our political processes are nothing but -- are you ready for this? -- a "hoax."  Perpetrated by the "fake" mainstream media, no less.

As some alert readers may have noticed, if you put together the right pieces out of what I have said, above, I may seem to be imagining a world in which the president of the US is not a "reasonable person."  What a notion!  But bear with me, please.  Thinking about an imaginary situation, even such a far-fetched one as this, can sometimes tell us useful things, things that we can bring back and apply in the real world.

After that pause for reassurance, let's review where we are.  You, dear reader, have (willingly, I trust) imagined yourself into the role of an American citizen in a bizarre alternate reality.  In that reality, you have learned, the leaders of a foreign country (still unnamed) have caused their minions to do some nasty things which (it has, by now, become clear) pose a threat to the effective functioning of our constitutional system.  Furthermore, our president is not, as you might expect, throwing his leadership abilities into thwarting these nefarious plans.  Indeed, he sometimes complains about the efforts to thwart them, saying that certain misguided officials are wasting their time in fighting an imaginary threat.

You, on the other hand, are convinced beyond a reasonable doubt that the threat is not imaginary.  Therefore, you reluctantly conclude that the president's conduct -- the combination of inaction, and sometimes active discouragement of efforts to combat it -- are materially increasing the threat.  Or in other words, the president's conduct is materially increasing the risk that our constitutional system of government will break down.

Faced with all that, what would you do?  I think you might begin to wonder whether this peculiar conduct on the part of the US president constituted grounds for impeachment and removal from office.

At this point in my discourse (if not sooner), an argumentative person seated in the peanut gallery can contain herself no longer.  "You fraud!" she says.  "You are pretending that all you are talking about is an alternate reality.  That serves to induce the reader to lower her guard, so that it is easier to suggest to her that she 'would,' if she were in that reality, start thinking about impeachment.

"But what you are really trying to do, without admitting it, is to convince the reader that there are good grounds for impeachment (not just in the alternate reality, but) in the real world.  After all, the reader might come to the conclusion that the 'hypothetical example' differs from the real world in only one significant way: by the fact that, in the real world, the president is also suspected of active collusion with the enemy.

"Now either you believe those additional charges, or you don't.  If they are false, then there is actually no significant difference between the alternate reality and the real one.  If there is no significant difference in the facts, and if impeachment is warranted in the alternate reality, then it is also warranted in the real one.

"On the other hand, if the charges of active collusion are true, that can only make the grounds for impeachment stronger, not weaker.  So either way -- whether the president is also guilty of active collusion, or not -- if there are sufficient grounds for impeachment in the alternate reality, then there are also sufficient grounds for impeachment in the real one.

"So," the lady in the peanut gallery concludes, "if the reader accepts your argument that there are good grounds for impeachment in the imagined example, then (she may not realize it at first, but) she logically is required also to accept that there are good grounds for impeachment in the real world."

Well, alrighty then! How do I respond to that?

I hope I would remember to begin by thanking her for sharing her closely reasoned thoughts.  Perhaps I would continue by saying that what she suggests is a novel idea, one I hadn't thought of.  And so, I will need some time to think about it before I can be sure, but at first blush it sounds like her main argument may very well be correct.

If that turns out to be the case, then I will quarrel with only one part of what she said: her assumption that I was deliberately trying to mislead, rather than unintentionally leading the reader in the direction of a final conclusion which had simply not occurred to me.

However, when I claimed that it never occurred to me, possibly I was lying.  Were that to be the case, then everything that the peanut gallery lady said would be true.

Okay, all kidding aside.  It seems that I have laid out, shall we say, a scaffolding of an argument in favor of the impeachment, and removal from office, of President Donald Trump.  But a scaffolding is not a finished structure: let me be the first to admit that I have not proven my case.

That is true on several levels, beginning with the facts.  I have said a number of things about the president's conduct.  Originally I presented them as hypothetical "stipulations" ("Let's suppose ...."); eventually I admitted that I believed them to be true in the real world.  But my saying so is not likely to be sufficient to convince two-thirds of the Senate.  Nor should it be.

The same goes for the conclusions that I drew about the likely effects of that conduct.  I said that there was a real danger that the foreign efforts would undermine the functioning of our system of government.  I further claimed that the president's lack of positive action to meet this threat, along with repeated claims by him that the threat is imaginary, could be expected to produce a net increase in the level of this risk: to make it worse, I'd go so far as to say, than if he had done nothing about it at all.  But to all of this, it would be perfectly reasonable to respond: Prove it!

Now suppose that all of that were proven.  There would still be questions about the intent, and/or causes, of the president's actions (including his inaction).  To begin with, one might wonder whether he sincerely believed that the threat was imaginary.  And if he did, one might well wonder how on earth that came about.  Depending on the answers to those questions, one might construe his conduct as anything from malicious to merely incompetent.

However, it could also be claimed that the answers to those questions about intent, while interesting, are irrelevant.  Not relevant, that is, to the end in view, which is to decide whether there is justification for removing the president from office.

That question about relevance is part of a larger question, which is actually the remaining question, once we suppose the actions, and their consequences, to have been proved.  Given the actions and the consequences, and given that the consequences are (at least potentially) very bad for the country, it still remains to ask: does all of this rise to the level of an "impeachable offense"?  Does it fit under the heading of "Treason, Bribery, or other high Crimes and Misdemeanors"?

So there we are.  I think I have proven that I have not proven my case; to put that in a possibly less confusing way, I hope I have convinced you that the case for impeachment is not proven by what I have said so far.  We may have some promising ingredients, but there is a good deal of mixing, and seasoning, and cooking yet to be done.  What we have so far hardly qualifies as "instant impeachment (just add legalese)."

If there's all that work left to be done, then, you might think, clearly my next step should be to get on with it.  But I'm not going to do that.  Not in this journal entry, nor the next; in fact, not in the currently foreseeable future.

Why not?  There are multiple answers to that question.  There are so many answers that I expect my entire next journal entry to be devoted to providing them.


In my last entry in this journal (http://edelsont.dreamwidth.org/2160.html, which was posted on October 18), I called for Congress to pass a law restricting the president's authority to order nuclear attacks.  Specifically, I suggested a "no first use" law: the president would no longer be permitted to order a nuclear attack on any country unless at least one of the following two things was true:

  • the attack was in response to a nuclear attack on the United States or its allies; and/or

  • Congress had authorized the attack, for example by declaring war.

Imagine my surprise, then, when The New York Times published an editorial, about a week later, which endorsed [almost] exactly the same idea.  You can find it at http://www.nytimes.com/interactive/2017/10/26/opinion/trump-nuclear-arsenal.html, under the title "Trump’s Nuclear Arsenal," and the date October 26, 2017.

Why do I say "almost" exactly the same?  Well, to get one thing out of the way: "no first use" was explicitly the main subject of my journal entry, but not of The Times' editorial.  Its main topic was the size of the US nuclear arsenal: it argued that, even though the number of warheads maintained as operational by the United States has been considerably reduced, it should be reduced further.

One paragraph in the editorial, though, did explicitly call for a "no first use" law.  Here's that paragraph in its entirety:

Every effort must be made to avoid the use of nuclear weapons.  Reducing the nuclear stockpile is one important step.  But legislators can go even further by requiring the president to seek a declaration of war from Congress before launching a first nuclear strike, as Senator Ed Markey of Massachusetts and Representative Ted Lieu of California, both Democrats, have proposed.

So relatively little of The Times' editorial was on the same subject as my journal entry.  There are also further differences in how the two pieces addressed that subject.

One important thing that The Times did, I and didn't: they went further toward identifying a specific bill that has already been introduced, by naming the senator and representative who have "proposed" it.  This would be useful information to the reader, should you feel led to write to your own Congressbeing on the subject.

I will also [im]modestly claim that my journal entry made some useful contributions to the discussion of the subject, not all of which were duplicated in The Times' editorial.  In this entry, I will bring up only one of them again.  Before explicitly propounding that difference between my work and theirs, it is necessary first to mention one of the similarities between them.

Clearly -- though they don't say so in so many words -- the authors of the editorial believe that this is a matter of added urgency, given the nature of the man who occupies the White House at the current moment.  I believe that they are referring to the bluster and bombast of President Trump's rhetoric, and to the doubt (perceived, in some quarters, at least) that he can be trusted to make the soundest possible decisions, especially in a life-and-megadeath matter such as this one.  I share this concern.

I did make that point -- more explicitly than they did, in fact.  I did so in order to make another point, which they did not make: that in principle, the need for a "no first use" law is not "about" Mr. Trump at all.  In other words, I want to say that, had the question been raised, it would have been a good idea to enact the same law during the previous administration ... or indeed, during the term of any president since the nuclear age began.  The qualifications, or lack of same, of President Trump are relevant to this issue for only one reason: because they have led him to do us the favor of bringing the matter to our attention.

I further claim that this is an important point to make, for two reasons.  One reason is that it is always better, when possible, to make laws which are appropriate in the general case, rather than being tailored to a particular personnel situation.

The other reason is purely political, in this sense: making this point (that the bill is not really about Trump) is likely to be helpful in getting the thing passed.  It can provide "cover" (as I put it in the previous entry) for any member of Congress who may wish to vote for this bill, but not wish to be seen as implying that we cannot, in general, trust our current president.

That concludes my effort to compare and contrast my work with that of the editorial board of The New York Times.  In closing, I want to try to explain the subject line of the current entry, that is, "Nuclear problem solved.  What's next?"

That was at least partly a joke, and not a very good one.  I'll even admit that it is in questionable taste, given that "the nuclear problem" is most assuredly not solved: not in general, and not with respect to our current situation vis-a-vis those deplorable people north of the 38th parallel.  (I mean, of course, the Koreans.  Not the ones who have created their own widely-enjoyed genre of pop music; the other ones.)

What I meant by "nuclear problem solved" -- to the limited extent that I meant anything serious at all -- was a piece of shorthand.  You could unpack it as follows: I raised the issue of a "no first use" law; then that issue was taken up by The New York Times, which has a somewhat wider readership than I have; so my own work, with respect to this issue, is done.

Okay; what did I mean by "What's next?"  That was a foreshadowing of what I'm going to do now: to pretend to believe a ridiculous theory, and then to ponder the implications of that theory.  The theory: that my journal entry somehow caused The New York Times to write about the same subject ... "about a week later," as I mock-portentously said above. 

The implications: this reveals that I have a hitherto-unsuspected superpower.  If I write about something, then The Times will write about it, too; and that, as we all know, will make that topic officially part of the National Conversation (TM).

In turn, that takes a question which I need to decide anyway, and reveals that question to be of far greater importance than I had realized.  That question, of course, is "What shall I write about next?"

(Pregnant pause while I contemplate this awesome responsibility ....)

Oh, I know!  I should write something about impeachment!


January 2025

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