Why You Should Love/Hate the Filibuster

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When Donald Trump was President, Democrats saw the filibuster as their savior. Of course, the ascendency of Joe Biden and a senate majority has the Donkeys clawing for the end of the antiquated procedure. Unlikely to fall either way, the stagnation that has ruled the day for years will continue. But no matter the majority, 2020 won’t be the last congress or constituency to question why the republic must stand still as the public boils well beyond 232 degrees Fahrenheit.

Robert Caro's, The Years of Lyndon Johnson : Master of the Senate, offers a dissertation that starts with the concerns first raised by Thomas Jefferson. Over hot coffee, Washington slid Jefferson a cup of milk to make his point about the necessity of a second house. "It cools the blend, and the senate will do the same to the nation when its overheating," foretold Washington.

In keeping, the founders understood the tyranny of kings and a system of check and balances demonstrates that. But there was another form of oppression that concerned them as much.

The tyranny of the people (or the majority) could be just as destructive. The French Revolution showed the violent hysteria then, and majority backlashes such as the one in Rwanda speaks for itself today.

The first test came as Thomas Jefferson himself wanted to impeach Justice Samuel Chase on the grounds of political disagreement. The majority in the house stood with their president and the Republican wave sweeping the country. But the senate stepped back, and ten Republican senators were able see the consequences such a precedent would have had.

The Senate’s greatest age coincided with the compromises that put off our inevitable civil war. With unforgettable oratory, men such as Henry Clay and John C. Calhoun rose to the aspirations of the founding fathers. Delayed, the young nation survived something it might not have been able to in 1820 or even 1850.

Unfortunately, the senate went from a platform that the world envied to the petty and ineffective body that we are familiar with today. The filibuster would kill The League of Nations, and as the seeds were again sewn for another monumental struggle, isolationist senators killed FDR's attempts to stand up to the axis and retool for war.

Domestically, Civil Rights legislation was held hostage to a Southern Filibuster for 75 years. Passed in the House throughout the 20th Century, 22 Southern Senators utilized the body's long windedness by using a refrain we heard in our healthcare debate. State's rights were supreme, and federal control would lead to tyranny.

Nonetheless, the senate managed to shine on two crucial occasions. FDR's court packing plan of 1937 was an attempt to reverse New Deal Legislation that had been ruled unconstitutional. Putting aside the merits of the FDR's plans, more power would have been concentrated in the executive branch - thus disrupting our system of checks and balances.

The senate came through again in 1951. Caro describes the scene in the words of William Manchester. "A senior officer in full uniform, contemptuously defying a constitutional Commander in Chief and undertaking to force an alteration in the highest decisions of civil government," he said in describing MacArthur's exit from his farewell address.

Jets flying over head, 250,000 people in pandemonium, journalist George Reedy feared for the very republic. "I'll never forget watching him go up Pennsylvania Avenue - had he said, 'let's take it,' and had he started a charge toward the White House, the adoring crowds would have followed him."

Congressional Correspondent William S. White reported a similar sentiment. "I have never feared more for the institutions of my country. I felt if the speech had gone on much longer, there might have been a march on the White House."

At the same time, MacArthur's military strategy posed an even greater threat, and with the nation's overwhelming support, an early attempt to challenge by Freshman Senator Robert Kerr showed the charged atmosphere. "You could just feel the hostility in the gallery, and they hated Kerr at that moment," George Reedy recalled.

Senator Richard Russell of Georgia was the one hope of slowing the runaway train, and the tsunami sweeping the country. Despite being the archenemy of Civil Rights Legislation, he was probably the most respected U.S. Senator.

At a time when Southern Senators freely slung the n-word around, no one was more knowledgeable of the senate's workings and his impassioned, dignified approach couldn't be ignored. This even by the northern liberals who hated him.

As for the issues at hand, wrote Caro, "Russell understood the terrible dangers of the policies of MacArthur the global strategist, and he was aware of the danger inherent in MacArthur's challenge to the president's authority.”

Russell also knew the senate provided the forum in which all sides of this complex issue could be viewed. Slowed down, Americans could fully gauge the situation.

First, the senator kept the cameras out so emotion could not be swayed by MacArthur's oratory skills. But Russell also made sure that as much information as possible made it to the American people. As for his tone, Russell afforded the general the respect he deserved, and the American people expected.

On display, MacArthur made his position clear. He proposed that Manchuria be bombed, China blockaded and Chang allowed to invade the mainland from Formosa. The Truman administration's attempt to make war piecemeal would lead to a broader conflict as appeasement always did, Caro paraphrased.

In response, Russell's intent was to demonstrate that MacArthur was a theater commander making decisions that required a global understanding. What if Chang's forces were wiped out - would US troops have to defend Formosa? What then if Russia invaded Japan or what if seeing its allies defeated, they enter the fray. Thus widening the war, the conflict could possibly provoke a nuclear attack.

Asked point blank, How do you propose to defend America against that war?

MacArthur almost made the case against himself. "That doesn't happen to be my responsibility Senator," the general faultered. "My responsibilities are in the Pacific."

The tide had turned, and the virulent general turned out to be as lactose intolerant as the founders intended.

Regardless, you're perfectly justified to hate the filibuster, but at least a little solace can be taken in the restraint it provides. So we can only hope that the future brings the type of people that the Constitutional Convention envisioned in 1787. In other words, the kind that equaled the historical challenge and didn’t sink with the sugar.

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