Rather predictably, news of the Gorsuch nomination to the US Supreme Court has been greeted by considerable head-scratching among Democratic Party–and associated progressive–circles: should we fight or should we roll over, keeping the proverbial powder dry for the next battle? ‘Pragmatism’ and ‘realism’ apparently bid us to not fight this already lost battle, to not expend valuable political energy and resources on this skirmish, and to take the long view, the strategic one, the sensible one, so that the next really–I mean, really–important battle can be fought with the appropriate street-fighting intensity and fervor. (After all, if you filibuster, the Republicans will simply change the Senate rules on voting, and just nominate him anyway; give up already.)
Or something like that.
A greater misunderstanding of politics, a poorer read of the current American political situation, cannot be imagined. The Democratic Party rolled over last year to let the Republican Party carry out a wholly illicit refusal to even consider Barack Obama’s nomination of Merrick Garland; it has, thus far, in its responses to Donald Trump’s cabinet nominations performed a passable imitation of a somnolent jellyfish. It seems to care little for the passion and ire of those who are calling upon it to resist the Trump administration; it seems obsessed instead, with performing political harakiri, by refusing to indicate that it has the stomach or the gumption for politics as it is currently performed in America.
Sometimes political battles are fought, not because they will be won, but because fighting them communicates valuable information to those engaged in it. In this case: that the theft of the Supreme Court seat has been noted as such (there is no need for scare quotes around “theft”); that this party has heard its constituents and can be counted on to represent their interests; and so on. Call it virtue-signalling if you like; that is not a pejorative term in this context. Rhetoric is an indispensable component of political struggle; fighting this battle has immense rhetorical value.
Talk of premature exhaustion–before the supposedly great battles that lie over the hill, over the horizon, that will be upon us tomorrow–is premature. Those battles are yet to be fought; there will be time for recuperation and renewal. That recharging of political batteries will be aided by an inspired political base; there won’t be any powder left around for the next battle if your ammunition carriers have, at your refusal to man the ramparts and open fire, thrown their stores down the nearest ravine in disgust, telling all and sundry that their soldiers were a bunch of undisciplined lily-livered no-hopers and do not deserve their allegiance or commitment any more. (These military metaphors are getting out of hand here.)
The nation-wide response to Donald Trump’s cabinet nominations, the visible and loud street protests, the social media coordinated and fueled opposition which has led to an unprecedented number of people calling their elected representatives for the first time, all to make known their unvarnished opinions, has sent the loudest and clearest message possible to the Democratic Party: this nomination must be resisted.