The Ides of May

 

The Old Roman Senate, Scene of Caesar's Demise 

Friends, Republicans, countrymen, lend me your ears; I come to explain Liz Cheney, not to praise her. Today Republicans ousted their Chair of the House Republican Conference, the number three leadership position. Over the last few weeks, like any Shakespearean drama, the foreboding was clear. But how did we get here, and what does it mean?

In Congress there are various types of members. Some see it as a steppingstone to executive power—be it Governor or President. Some wait patiently over years, sometimes decades, for a committee chairmanship. A few are just there for the publicity—seemingly (or in their own minds) owing nothing to party leadership. Think AOC for the Democrats and Matt Gaetz for the GOP. Their importance in the legislative process is inversely proportional to the time they spend on TV, Twitter, and people talking about their time on TV and Twitter.

And then there is House “leadership,” starting with the Speaker and their mirror in the minority, and then some combination of deputies and whips on each side. They come from districts that, absent indictment (although not always) or catastrophe, are so safe they don’t even have to campaign for themselves. Tom Wolfe in The Bonfire of the Vanities spoke of certain political types as having “favor banks”; House leaders are a combination of the Treasury printing favors and the Federal Reserve distributing them.

Against this backdrop Liz Cheney falls into the scene. Fall isn’t quite the right term—more of moving slightly from behind the curtains to the stage front. Make no mistake, Liz Cheney is whip smart and well spoken, putting her ahead of about 95% of her Hill colleagues. During the Bush 43 campaigns and administration she and her sister were a powerhouse duo supporting and defending their father in the fiercest of ways. And to add to her superpowers, she and her husband are raising their five children. At age 54 she was poised for a long run to the top, but of all things couldn’t grasp what should have come naturally—leadership.

Part of the party leadership deal is giving up some of your passions, absent anything that would hurt your constituents, for the greater good of the party. You slug out Sunday morning talk show appearances simply because you have to, not because anybody cares. You make deals between members to keep them happy, not because the greater good of the country is served. You also signal what you want, ultimately to be Speaker, and forgo other electoral temptations. While hardly monastic, the reward for this life is immense political power and national influence. So, and improbably in just her third term, Liz Cheney staked her claim.

I can’t say I agree with Liz Cheney’s vote to impeach the President either on fact or as a leader in the party, but so she did. And while riling many feathers, she defended herself in front of her conference, winning a confidence vote mere weeks after having been voted into leadership in the first place. And here is where it all goes so wrong. Instead of using that second vote to secure her power and become politically untouchable she…persisted. Why? Leaders don’t make gratuitous power grabs in public—it’s a quiet takeover that even the vanquished acknowledge was inevitable when it is over. Strength accumulates by not flexing it in public. Yet for whatever reason Liz Cheney seemed to think that the Trump fight needed constant, and public, flogging. Was there some ancient grudge break to new mutiny between the Trumps and Cheneys? Who knows. But what also became clear was that, like it or not, the Trump show remained popular within the party and it needed to be stage managed since it wasn’t closing anytime soon. So like another well-known Italian drama, Casino, the bosses had had enough with Liz Cheney. And while not buried in an Indiana cornfield, her long-term political future is hardly a sure bet.

The irony here is that Liz Cheney’s behavior of battling, battling, and battling, unable to let go, unable to see the bigger picture, was just like Trump. It’s also what brought her down.

Et tu, Donald?

© 2021 Alexander W. Stephens, All Rights Reserved.