• Why this was deranged-seeming. I don’t know how long this Twitter stream will survive, before cooler heads delete it. (Six hours after its publication, it’s still visible, starting here. I’m sure I’m not the only person to have made screen-captures of the successive messages, for when the original disappears.) But it resembles the most fevered scenes of A Beautiful Mind in arraying “evidence” to show that Brett Kavanaugh could not have been at the notorious high school party—and that another person, whom Whelan specifically names, would have been the real attempted-rapist.
    
  Maps to show where the various high-schoolers involved in the case lived; architectural drawings of what Whelan believes must have been the scene of the attempted crime; Zillow-based photos of the interior of this house; high school yearbook photos and current shots likening the appearance of Kavanaugh and the “real” malefactor; a range of other crackpot forensic evidence—this and more  is what the messages painstakingly laid out. The sequence ended with a Pontius Pilate-style disclaimer that maybe the non-Kavanaugh person was not really guilty, but the preceding messages said: Stop blaming the future Supreme Court justice! Focus on this other guy. (Christine Ford herself quickly replied, according to the Washington Post: “I knew them both … There is zero chance that I would confuse them.”)
    

• Why this mattered for the Republican establishment. The author, Edward Whelan, is very far from a fringe figure. As Josh Marshall explains here, in a post written in a tone of shock, and with the headline “This Is Nuts”:
  
  “I’m really not sure quite how to capture what just happened. But a major, major player in the conservative/Federalist Society legal establishment in DC just posted a lengthy Twitter thread in which he accuses another alum of Kavanaugh’s high school of assaulting Professor Blasey Ford.”
  
  To similar effect, Brian Beutler, of Crooked Media, wrote:
  “To be clear, Ed Whelan is the conservative movement's go-to guy for judicial fights—to run down Democratic nominees and defend Republican ones. The claim that Republican officialdom had no advanced knowledge of his stunt tonight, which he'd previewed for days, is a joke.”
  
  Whelan is the director of the Ethics and Public Policy Center; a one-time Supreme Court clerk for Antonin Scalia;  reportedly a friend of Kavanaugh’s; and overall a significant figure within the conservative establishment. None of the members of that establishment, by the way, stepped up this evening to defend Whelan’s version of events. Which leads to…
     
• Why this might matter for Brett Kavanaugh. As many commentators pointed out this evening, a natural question for (Democratic) senators to ask, when Kavanaugh comes back before them, is: Did you know about any of this?  The Naval War College professor Tom Nichols put it this way:

One more note for the day: Donald Trump gave one of his patented rally speeches this evening in Las Vegas. As best I can tell from press reports (including the brilliant real-time lie-reporting from Daniel Dale of the Toronto Star), Trump did not mention that less than one year ago the deadliest gun massacre in American history took place in that city.

47 days to go.

An increasing source of atmospheric methane is simple leakage, from the natural-gas (mainly methane) wells that have become an increasing source of North America’s energy supply. From both a business and an environmental perspective, these leaks are sheer waste and inefficiency, in addition to being destructive.

To reduce the volume of escaping methane, the Obama administration proposed a series of anti-leak standards and rules. On taking office, Trump and his team — Scott Pruitt at EPA, Ryan Zinke at Interior, Rick Perry at Energy — said they would delay implementation of the anti-leak rules, or ignore or suspend them. Again they lost a series of court cases.  (A federal judge in California said the new policy was “untethered to evidence.”)

This week, in a parallel to the Flores changes, the administration announced that it would just undo the methane policy with its own set of new rules. You can see the details, from the estimable science writer Marianne Lavelle, here.  Another clarifying piece is here.  

After this revelation, Al Gore replied via Tweet:

This one too will be challenged in the courts.

(3) Cancer. Any president is head of the executive branch, and thus structurally the chief law-enforcement officer of the United States.

In an Oval Office interview with John Solomon and Buck Sexton of The Hill, which went online on Tuesday, the chief law-enforcement officer of the land referred to the FBI as “truly a cancer” and said this about how he should have treated its staffers even before he took office:

“If I did one mistake with Comey, I should have fired him before I got here. I should have fired him the day I won the primaries,” Trump said. [Note: Trump held no public office at that time.] “I should have fired him right after the convention, say I don’t want that guy. Or at least fired him the first day on the job. ...

Trump said he had not read the documents he ordered declassified [emphasis added: back story here] but said he expected to show they would prove the FBI case started as a political “hoax.”...

Asked what he thought the outcome of his long-running fight with the FBI, the president said: “I hope to be able put this up as one of my crowning achievements that I was able to ... expose something that is truly a cancer in our country.

***

A freer hand to detain children. Removing controls on environmentally hyper-destructive sheer waste. Working around court rulings toward both those ends — while denouncing the law enforcement structure he is supposed to “take care” to defend.

These things happened while the Kavanaugh case was commanding the news. To the best of my knowledge, the list of Republican senators who have noticed or objected to any of it is this familiar group:

48 days to go.

“We write to express profound alarm at President Donald Trump’s decision on September 17, 2018 to intervene in an ongoing law enforcement investigation that may implicate the President himself or those around him,” the four Democrats said in their letter. (They are: Senate Minority Leader Chuck Schumer; House Minority Leader Nancy Pelosi; Ranking Senate member of the intelligence committee Mark Warner; and Ranking House member of the intelligence committee Adam Schiff. The four Republicans, who did not sign on, are: Senate Majority Leader Mitch McConnell; House Speaker Paul Ryan; Senate intelligence chairman Richard Burr; and House intelligence chairman (sigh) Devin Nunes.) The letter added:

“The action he has taken… is a brazen abuse of power. Any decision by your offices to share this material with the President or his lawyers will violate longstanding Department of Justice policies, as well as assurances you have provided to us.”

So let’s note for the long-term record: no previous president has done this; no minority-party “Gang of Four” has previously had to complain in such impassioned tones; and no majority-party “Gang of the Missing Four” has as distinctly averted its eyes.

Possible leaks of classified material were a huge theme in the past presidential campaign. The winning candidate has now ordained a leak dwarfing anything contemplated back then. (Update: see more from Natasha Bertrand here.)

***

(2) Refugees. One of the glories of the United States, idealistically and in practical terms, is that it has opened its doors to those persecuted or endangered in their homelands. As my wife, Deb, and I discussed at length in our book, once they arrive, refugees are on average more entrepreneurial, more education-minded, and more law-abiding than the populace as a whole.

One of the stains on America’s record is when it has turned its back and closed its doors to those persecuted or endangered. Of course the MS St. Louis is the most notorious example, but every day there are similar cases.

There are limits to even America’s absorptive capacity, but every president in the modern era has set them higher than Donald Trump has now done. (You can see the historical patterns here. Two recent Atlantic posts go into the trends too, here and here.)

• After the warfare in Vietnam and Cambodia, Jimmy Carter substantially raised refugee admissions, to well above 100,000 per year, and large numbers arrived as well early in Ronald Reagan’s term.
• Through the first Bush era and the Clinton years, refugees from the former Soviet Union and the Balkans increased, and average annual levels were between 75,000 and 100,000.
• Refugee ceilings fell immediately after the 9/11 attacks, but then rose through the George W. Bush and Obama eras, averaging around 75,000 annually. To put it in perspective: this is roughly 1/4500^th of the existing U.S. population — a significant absolute number in international terms, but not among the leaders proportional to either population or GDP.
• Donald Trump has now set the coming year’s ceiling at 30,000—a one-third cut from last year’s 45,000, and the lowest level since before Ronald Reagan’s time.

I won’t make any more of the moral or practical argument in favor of refugee admission at the moment. Instead I’ll point you to this report by Deb about how refugees have helped invigorate the town of Erie, Pennsylvania. (Plus this.) And I’ll point you to an interactive Esri map, which you can find here, which dramatizes how the flow of refugees into the United States has changed in recent years; where they have arrived; and how many of them (and from where) have settled in any given town, including yours.

Noted for the record, as Jews in America and worldwide are beginning the Yom Kippur fast, and with 49 days to go until the midterm elections.

Twenty-four hours ago, it was news that, at last, one Republican senator had the daring to say: Hold on, what’s the rush with this vote, let’s hear the evidence against Kavanaugh and his response. That was Jeff Flake, of Arizona. Then another, Bob Corker of Tennessee, joined him—and by Monday evening, it had become the conventional view.

That is not good news for Kavanaugh, whose best prospect for success was that 51 Republicans would hold together as a bloc to get him through, fast. This would also make it tough for red-state Democrats facing hard reelection races—like Heidi Heitkamp of North Dakota, Joe Donnelly of Indiana, and Claire McCaskill of Missouri—to cast what they know would be a meaningless vote against him.

Every day that passes between now and a Senate vote is a step backward for Kavanaugh.

• It’s one more day for audiences to see reruns of the Senate Judiciary Committee’s brutalizing treatment of Anita Hill back in 1991—all men on the committee at that time, all white, all mercilessly hectoring Hill. Arlen Specter was the worst of them, followed by Orrin Hatch (who is still in the Senate, at age 84) and the committee’s then-chairman, Joe Biden, and its current chairman, Chuck Grassley (at 85). If you were too young to see these in real time, or even if you think you remember them, I strongly recommend paying attention when they’re shown on cable. Anita Hill’s composure is unbelievable, and the senators’ smug callousness is … hard to describe.
• It’s one more day for witnesses, stories, documents, emails, and complications of every sort to arise. What about, once again, the nominee’s big credit-card debts, and their sudden disappearance? What about his speech with constant (joking) allusions to binge and black-out drinking?
• It’s one more day for the most gimlet-eyed political calculators to think: Do we need the stress? Is this fight going to be worth it? If time is no longer on our side, does it make sense just to watch things go wrong, rather than trying a different approach? With a less controversial, more conservative, ideally younger judge—and maybe a woman!

The most gimlet-eyed of all is, of course, Mitch McConnell, who let it be known back in July that he thought that Kavanaugh carried needless personal and political baggage. “Mr. McConnell made clear in multiple phone calls with Mr. Trump … that the lengthy paper trail of another top contender, Judge Brett M. Kavanaugh, would pose difficulties for his confirmation,” the New York Times said in its story 10 weeks ago. “Mr. McConnell is concerned about the volume of the documents that Judge Kavanaugh has created … as well as in his roles as White House staff secretary under President George W. Bush and assistant to Kenneth W. Starr, the independent counsel who investigated President Bill Clinton.”

By cutting its losses with Harriet Miers 13 years ago, the Bush White House ended up with an apparently much more conservative replacement: Samuel Alito. Why—the Republican gimlet tribe will ask—should we keep beating ourselves up with these Kavanaugh hearings, when there are so many other choices we could make?

Those are the calculations that would apply—in usual times.

Under usual circumstances, this evening’s time capsule would say: Things look bad for Brett Kavanaugh.

But in these circumstances? Who knows. We’ll see.

Fifty days to go.

***

Here’s the full-frame version of the KAL cartoon:

The only argument for a rush, then, is brute-force political power. Senate Majority Leader Mitch McConnell wants to get this vote done now, because he thinks he can. This is of course the same McConnell who refused to have the Senate even consider a nomination that Barack Obama made 10 months before he left office. But 52 days before the next election, McConnell is applying the pressure to get the vote done now:

Now, while the Republicans have a 51-49 Senate majority. (Which, whatever happens in the midterms, they should in any case have through the end of the year.) Now, before any more documents or complications might come out. Now, before accusations of lying-under-oath from senior senators can be explored or adjudicated. Now.

As I’ve mentioned many times in this space, McConnell—and, beyond him, Donald Trump—can get away with what they are doing because not even one member of their razor-thin Republican majority has been willing to stand up to them.

This evening, at least for this moment, one of them has. Respect to Senator Flake.

And I have to amend my list of Republicans willing to stand up for principles and procedure. It would now read:

1. Jeff Flake

***

UPDATE. Via Politico I see that Senator Bob Corker, of Tennessee, who like Flake is not running for re-election, has now said that the vote should be postponed.

Good for Senator Corker.

The list could read:

1. Jeff Flake
2. Bob Corker

***

September 17 update, 12:00 noon:  Senator Susan Collins, of Maine, has just called for both Kavanaugh and Ford to testify under oath before the Judiciary committee.

And for a trip down memory lane, here is the preceding item, #70 in the series:

This one was about a warning from a career CIA official that Donald Trump was acting as, at best, an “unwitting agent” of Russian state interests.

That was ten weeks before the 2016 election. These things were knowable, and known, at the time. They’re even clearer now.

For more assessments of what Clarence Thomas has meant as a jurist, I refer you to my Atlantic colleague (and real-world law professor) Garrett Epps, here, here, and here, among other sources. Let’s focus for the moment on what his case means about the confirmation fight immediately in prospect, that of Brett Kavanaugh.

The Thomas and Kavanaugh cases differ in some obvious ways. Thomas was poor, black, and underprivileged by almost every measure. Kavanaugh, whose father was a long-time D.C. lobbyist who was paid $13 million in 2005, grew up on the opposite side of most calculations of racial and economic advantage. In terms of experience, Kavanaugh has been a federal judge for more than a dozen years, and has been rated “well qualified” for the Supreme Court by the American Bar Association, which the novice Thomas was not.

The similarity of the cases is the “now or never” nature of the criticisms of these candidates as people, and the consequent time pressure on their hearings. This is entirely apart from questions of substantive jurisprudence, for instance how Kavanaugh might rule in Roe v. Wade or on presidential powers. Instead these are questions of honesty, at several levels.

In Clarence Thomas’s case, the strongest argument against him as a person, and the one that provoked his angriest response, involved alleged sexual harassment—and whether he was being truthful in denying it. At his hearings, his former colleague Anita Hill was the only alleged victim of his behavior allowed to testify. The senator who then chaired the Judiciary Committee, Joe Biden (the Democrats held both the Senate and the House), notoriously prevented several other women from testifying, and treated Hill in a dismissive manner that many years later he apologized for.

In the decades since that hearing, accumulating evidence has piled up on Anita Hill’s side of this story (and the other women’s), and against Thomas’s. If you’d like to review the details, start with this recent piece by former New York Times editor Jill Abramson, who with Jane Mayer wrote a well-known book about the case; or a post by Jay Kaganoff, who has written for Commentary and National Review. In that article, called “Fellow Conservatives, It’s Time to Call on Clarence Thomas to Resign,” Kaganoff said that the mounting evidence had changed his mind. He concluded:

I believe Anita Hill. I believe that Clarence Thomas abused his authority to sexually harass a woman who worked for him. And lied about it. And smeared his accuser.

And got away with it.

“Got away with it” is the crucial point here. The “get away” / “don’t get away” decision point comes before a Senate vote, not ever afterward. Once a person is confirmed to the Supreme Court, he or she is, in practical terms, beyond all future accountability.

In principle, justices “should” recuse themselves from cases in which they have a potential conflict of interest. But no one can make them do so. Clarence Thomas’s wife, Ginni, is a long-time and highly paid lobbyist for right-wing political causes. To the best of my knowledge (I welcome new info), this has not ever led her husband to recuse himself from a case. As many news reports have noted, Brett Kavanaugh has been notably coy about whether he would recuse himself in cases involving the legally embattled president who is now appointing him. Obviously he “should” step aside in such instances—as Elena Kagan has recused herself in some cases involving the Obama administration, for which she was solicitor general. But absolutely no one could force him to do so, if he decided otherwise.

Also in principle, justices, like presidents, can be impeached. But this is even rarer for the Supreme Court than for the White House. It’s happened to only two presidents (Andrew Johnson and Bill Clinton), and been threatened for a third (Nixon, just before he resigned). For the Supreme Court, it happened only once, in the early 1800s. Again, for practical purposes, whatever vote the Senate is about to hold on Brett Kavanaugh is the vote on whether he’ll be on hand through his 50s, 60s, 70s, 80s, or however long he is able to serve. And the 51 Republicans under Mitch McConnell’s guidance in the Senate are rushing to lock this in while they can. (These are mostly the same people who followed McConnell’s lead in denying a hearing to the Obama nominee Merrick Garland through nine full months.)

They want to get the vote done now—while they still have a 51-49 vote majority in the Senate, before the mid-term elections and whatever they might indicate about Donald Trump’s standing, before further legal ramifications from the Mueller probe. If they can get him in, he’s in.

***

How is this connected to Clarence Thomas? I explicitly do not imply a connection in the most obvious way: that the recent allegation about sexual misbehavior by Kavanaugh, back during his high school days at Georgetown Prep, is in any way comparable to the squelched multi-witness case against Clarence Thomas. I have no idea what to make of this claim about Kavanaugh—except that it seems worth listening to Anita Hill, who has just said that the charge should be considered in “fair and neutral” conditions, rather than in a partisan-driven rush.

The circumstances that to me resemble Clarence Thomas’s involve two other aspects of Kavanaugh the person, which the Senate can consider during a confirmation vote—but never again.

One involves his truthfulness under oath. As I have written before, anyone active in D.C. journalism in the 1990s (as I was, for the Atlantic and as editor of U.S. News) is familiar with Kavanaugh’s name. Back then, while in his early 30s, Kavanaugh was an active partisan member of Kenneth Starr’s investigative staff, working on president Bill Clinton. David Brock, at the time a fierce right-winger (and critic of Anita Hill), has written about how Kavanaugh was a fellow warrior in these political crusades. Washington journalists knew Kavanaugh as one of the more press-available members of Starr’s staff. Then, in the George W. Bush administration, Kavanaugh was White House staff secretary and, like anyone in this job, involved in both politics and policy.

During his confirmation hearings for the D.C. Circuit Court 12 years ago, Kavanaugh denied under oath that he had participated in certain specified partisan fights. Two senior, hyper-cautious Democratic senators—Patrick Leahy, and Dianne Feinstein—have, along with others, now come out with statements saying that they believe Kavanaugh was lying under oath in 2006, and is doing so again now.

Was he? This matters.

Every modern-era judicial nominee has mastered the art of dissembling, and pretending to have a completely open mind and a “I just call the balls and strikes” objectivity about every controversial issue.

But actual lying is something different. Clarence Thomas’s interlocutors believed that he was lying about Anita Hill, and the intervening years make it more likely they were right. This is the first time I’m aware of, since the Thomas hearings, in which senators opposing the nomination have come out and said: This nominee is lying under oath. It is worth knowing the truth before the now-or-never vote is cast.

The second question involves finances. There’s been only one genuine impeachment of a Supreme Court justice, back in 1804. But the threat of impeachment convinced another justice, Abe Fortas, to resign, in the Lyndon Johnson era.

The cause of Fortas’s problems was what now seem like penny-ante financial complications. A $15,000 fee for some seminars, news of a $20,000 annual retainer from a Wall Street figure.

Sure, that was 50 years ago, so you have to allow for inflation. But by comparison, Brett Kavanaugh has some major financial gray-areas in his recent past. The very large credit-card debts, suddenly paid off? As David Graham put it in the Atlantic:

The fact remains that Kavanaugh suddenly cleared at least $60,000 and as much as $200,000 in mysterious debt over one year—sums large enough that senators might well want to know who the sources of the payments were.

Maybe this all is nothing. But the Senate is ramming through a vote before anyone knows what’s there. And—the crucial point—if information comes out about his finances, or his truthfulness, or anything even one day after he is sworn in, it will be too late. As with Clarence Thomas, he’ll be there, to stay.

And as for the number of Republican senators who are saying: Wait a minute, let’s take our time, it matters to know the truth before giving someone a job for life? What is the rush?

Here’s the list of their names:

52 days to go.

Update: This morning, September 16, the Washington Post published an editorial (i.e., editorial-board statement, not an individual op-ed) with the title “The Senate Should Delay Voting on Brett Kavanaugh.”  It says:

Republican efforts to rush through Mr. Kavanaugh have prevented a fair weighing of his nomination. The circumstances demand that Mr. Kavanaugh’s confirmation be delayed.

Suppose Brett Kavanaugh ended up with exactly 51 bloc-GOP votes on his side. Have you perhaps wondered how many votes the eight current justices received? Wonder no more. The tally also heightens the similarity in the Thomas and Kavanaugh cases:

Clarence Thomas, 52 votes

Ruth Bader Ginsburg, 96 votes

Stephen Breyer, 87 votes

John Roberts 78 votes

Samuel Alito, 58 votes

Sonia Sotomayor, 68 votes

Elena Kagan, 61 votes

Neil Gorsuch, 54 votes

What this shows about Trump is familiar. He is unbounded by fact. He is incapable of understanding any event except through the prism of how it makes him look. He cannot even feign the sober selflessness expected of leaders of any organization. He …. well, he is himself.

But this is worth noting for the record as it underscores two points. One involves Trump’s further departure from the norms of all previous presidents. The other involves the response of the supposedly co-equal legislative branch.

The office: Like it or not, consciously or by instinct, all previous presidents have tried to do two things after taking office. The first is to expand the base. Or at least to try.

Through all of America’s presidential elections, only once has the winning candidate received as much as 61 percent of the popular vote. That was Lyndon Johnson, who got that 61 percent against Barry Goldwater, in 1964. FDR against Alf Landon in 1936, Richard Nixon against George McGovern in 1972, and Warren Harding against James Cox in 1920—these were landslide elections that still fell short of LBJ’s record, at just around 60 percent of the vote.

All the other winning candidates got less. This seems obvious, but focus on what it means: Every new president takes office knowing that 40+ percent of the public wishes he hadn’t won. In response, every one of them has at least tried to court some people from the other side.

The long litany of inaugural addresses, which you can peruse at the invaluable UC Santa Barbara American Presidency Project site, contains one example after another of new presidents trying to expand their support. For instance: Jimmy Carter’s inaugural address, which I helped work on, devoted its very first line to thanking Carter’s vanquished opponent, Gerald Ford, “for all he has done to heal our land.” This was controversial at the time, because the “healing” included Ford’s decision to pardon Richard Nixon for Watergate offenses, rather than expose a former president to possible trial. The extra edge was Carter’s awareness that the pardon had hurt Ford politically, and increased the chances it would be Carter rather than Ford taking the oath that day.

There are countless other examples, but the main point is: out of decency, out of political calculation, out of the primal political-psychology impulse to be liked, and perhaps too because they have been sobered by the responsibilities of office, nearly all presidents start out trying to be unifiers. On the campaign trail, they spoke about the opponents as them. Once in office, they try to talk about us.

The language of us is foreign to Trump. When applied to the U.S. citizens who live in Puerto Rico. When applied to traditional U.S. allies who are part of NATO. When applied to the elected officials of another party who share governing responsibility. When applied to anything. In all these cases, it’s simpler: me, and them. The theme of the reprises of his campaign rallies, 20 months into his time in office, is: I won! Those losers lost!

Does this seem unusual? That’s because it is.

The other duty that previous presidents recognize as falling to them involves the emotional, ceremonial, inspirational, and even parental responsibilities of being the symbolic head of the national family. At moments of national stress or tragedy, most previous presidents have risen to this responsibility without even being told that they should do so.

After the space shuttle Challenger blew up, Ronald Reagan gave a brief, moving speech what this meant for the country as a whole. (“Nancy and I are pained to the core by the tragedy of the shuttle Challenger. We know we share this pain with all of the people of our country. This is truly a national loss.”) Bill Clinton did something similar after the terrorist bombing of a government building in Oklahoma City. George W. Bush did so in his address to Congress nine days after the 9/11 attacks. Barack Obama, after the Charleston church shooting. You name a president, and a historian can locate some example of that person trying to act as head of state (not party), and as leader of the national family.

Every president, except this one.

The absence of that instinct—to unify, to heal, to reassure, to embolden—is the most notable aspect of Trump’s response to anyone else’s suffering.

Checks and balances: One of Congress’s supposed powers and obligations involves “oversight” of this executive branch. That is: hearings, investigations, and other ways of determining how members of the Executive Branch are carrying out their jobs.

At their highest level, these have involved public sessions like those that Senator J. William Fulbright, of Arkansas, held about the Vietnam War in the 1960s. Or that Senator Frank Church, of Idaho, held about excesses of U.S. intelligence agencies in the 1970s. Or that Senator William Proxmire, of Wisconsin, held about defense contractors in the same period. Or that Senators Sam Ervin, of North Carolina, and Howard Baker, of Tennessee, held about the Watergate scandal.

At their most tendentious, they have included spectacles like those of the House Un-American Activities Committee in the early Cold War era, under Representative Martin Dies of Texas. Or the two-year-long proceedings of the Select Committee on Benghazi, under Representative Trey Gowdy of South Carolina. Or the multi-year probe of the Obama administration’s “Fast and Furious” program, under Representative Jason Chaffetz of Utah.

In short: Congress likes to hold hearings. Right at this moment it has a situation in which many thousands of U.S. citizens died after a natural disaster; in which a similar disaster is in prospect; in which news reports have highlighted possible fraud or mismanagement in relief efforts. After the Hurricane Katrina disaster under George W. Bush, a then-Republican-controlled Congress authorized a set of bipartisan hearings into what had gone wrong.

This time?

Here is a list of House or Senate committee chairs who have announced this year that their committees will launch investigations of what happened in Puerto Rico (to spell it out, with GOP majorities, all committee chairs are Republicans):

(One Senate committee held a day of hearings about Puerto Rico ten months ago. Remember: “Fast and Furious” hearings and investigations went on for more than five years.)

And here is a list of GOP senators who are not committee chairs but have called for such hearings in response to Trump’s comments, or for public explanations from the president:

Fifty-four days to go.

The brand-new print issue of The Atlantic, available online today (but Subscribe!), is all about the structural contradictions in modern democracy, and why it may be more imperiled around the world than many Americans would like to think.

The U.S. version of representative democracy has always involved a careful calibration of the balance between direct-democratic popular sentiment, and deliberately less-democratic buffers. These range from the original intention of the Electoral College (to ensure that the populace didn’t choose the wrong person, and that “the office of President will never fall to the lot of any man who is not in an eminent degree endowed with the requisite qualifications”), to the Senate’s supposed function as a more deliberative balance to the curb-to-curb excesses of the House.

But modern developments have pushed the U.S. toward a predicament in which it has all the defects of a non-democratic, non-majoritarian system, but without any of the supposed benefits. Consider:

Two of the past five presidential elections—versus zero of 27, from 1892 through 1996—have gone to the candidate who lost the popular vote. Both of those majority/minority presidents—George W. Bush in 2000, and Donald Trump in 2016—governed as if they had won FDR- or Reagan-scale mandates.

The 51 senators who now make up the GOP’s governing majority represent about 30 million fewer constituents than do the 49 Democrats and independents. And thanks to gerrymandering and similar factors, a 1 percent GOP edge in House of Representatives voting in 2016—just over 63 million total votes for Republican candidates, versus just under 62 million for Democrats—translated into a 47-seat majority in the House.

These House and Senate measures are of course imperfect—vote turnout varies in contested House races versus safe seats, and I’m doing the Senate tally by assigning each Democratic or Republican senator half of his or her state’s total population. The Democratic total for the Senate comes to about 180 million people; the Republican, to about 150 million. But the figures are in the ballpark, as indicators of the gap between raw popular sentiment and the current governing balance of power. As applied to the themes of The Atlantic’s new issue, they illustrate a more and more widespread and taken-for-granted shift from minority protection to minority rule.

I mention these disproportions to introduce a Time Capsule series for the 55 days between now and the 2018 midterm elections. It will focus on the 51 people who have disproportionate power. Unlike the other 330+ million Americans, members of this group could do something directly to hold Donald Trump accountable for what nearly all of them know is his reckless unfitness for office—but who every day choose not to act.

Those 51 are, of course, the Republicans who make up Mitch McConnell’s current Senate majority. What could they do? I’ve laid out the basic case here, but in brief:

• Any one senator, of majority or minority party alike, has vast power to hold up the Senate’s business in order to get his or her way—on a point that really matters to the senator. The filibuster is one obvious tool. Ever seen the old movie Mr. Smith Goes to Washington? Ever watch Rand Paul try to hold up renewal of the Patriot Act? Ever watch Ted Cruz hold the floor for 21 straight hours, to slow down Obamacare? Ever hear about Tom Cotton putting a personal hold on an ambassadorial nominee—waiting it out until the nominee died? These give you an idea of what even one senator can do—if it matters.
• Any one senator, who happens to be a committee chair, is in a very strong position to: hold hearings, issue subpoenas, and generally direct public and governmental attention to an issue. In the House, think of Representative Trey Gowdy, and what he did for years with the Benghazi hearings. Think of Devin Nunes. In the Senate, think back to what J. William Fulbright, as chairman of the Senate Foreign Relations Committee, did with his hearings on the Vietnam war—a war being carried out by his own party’s president. And think then of the current chairman of that committee, Senator Bob Corker, who is not running for re-election and thus in theory has nothing to fear from any opponent, PAC, or donor.
• Any two senators could decide, temporarily, to declare themselves independent and “caucus with the Democrats” and thus shift operational control of the Senate from Republican hands to the Democrats’. The chairmanship of every committee would change. So would the majority lineup in every one of those committees. Hearings, subpoenas—these could be used to call Trump to account, rather than to avert public eyes.
  The two senators who had thus shifted control could still vote with Republicans on issues they cared about, from budget matters from the Kavanaugh nomination. But they could switch the machinery of this powerful part of the legislative branch back toward the check-and-balance function that at least two of them know is necessary. (At least two? Think of what Jeff Flake has said, and Bob Corker, and Ben Sasse.)

But 55 days before the election, not a one of these 51 people has dared act. Not after the “anonymous” op-ed in The New York Times; not after Bob Woodward’s Fear (and the dozen previous books to similar effect); not after … anything.

One of the senators I’ve often mentioned as an example of talking a lot, but doing very little to stand up to Trump, recently phoned me up, unhappy. “OK, it’s easy to criticize, but what exactly do you expect me to do?” he asked. I said, “Of course I’m not a legislator. But it looks from outside as if you could hold a hearing. Or hold up something the administration wanted. Or even—even—vote with the other side, if you thought the danger was really as great as you say.”

I inferred an “oh, sure” eye-roll through the phone line. The senator pointed out that steps like those would represent a total challenge to the party. The lesson I took was that if senators are going to think of themselves as party loyalists apart from anything else—apart from local concerns in their state, apart from historic positions of their own party, apart from what their own judgment said, apart from anything except what Donald Trump wants—then voters should rationally make their choices on party-ID above all. A Republican in the Congress will stand alongside Trump, whatever direction Trump goes. A Democrat may challenge him. That’s the choice.

Will anything about GOP bashfulness change in the next 55 days, or through the month-plus after that in which this Congress will still have power? Will one of them act, or even two?

I don’t know, but as with the original Time Capsules I’ll try to record this every day or two, for the long-term record. History is being made in real time.

***

The pace and audacity of Donald Trump’s departures from norms, standards, and respect-for-office indeed merit an ongoing chronicle. Meeting with a foreign head of government, without any preparation or presence from a U.S. government official, or even his own interpreter? (But with his daughter, who has no official government position but has business interests in other countries, in the room?) Talking with other foreign leaders on unsecured phones? Still stonewalling on the tax returns? And meanwhile meeting partners from his operations in India, in his role as president-elect? Clutching his pearls when his running mate is booed, after all the spleen he has vented in public? And so on.

Someone should chronicle these things, but not me, at least not single-handed. Developments:

• I have another, very different journalistic project coming up that represents my own reckoning of how I can best contribute to the next stage of America’s challenge and evolution;
• Precisely because so much is coming so fast, for sustainability this needs to be a multi-person, shared-labor project. The Atlantic is considering the best way it could launch and maintain such an effort. Stay tuned, and feel free to send any suggestions to hello@theatlantic.com.
• In the meantime, please check out, follow, and contribute to a very interesting Time Capsule project by @motocollard, which you can read about on Medium. It’s a spreadsheet account rather than an explanatory narrative, but it serves the crucial function of noting things down as they occur.

My respects and support to the many people who, in their roles as citizens and family members and in their working lives, are reflecting on the best course ahead. I’ll keep you updated on what The Atlantic is planning on this front. (And meanwhile, as always, please Subscribe! Seriously, supporting publications whose reporting you value is newly significant. Plus: the perfect gift!)

No one looking back on the America of 2016 will think that the real question its voters should have been grappling with was how Hillary Clinton handled her email. But TV has told us more about this issue than about racial tensions and racial justice, economic opportunity and economic stagnation, immigration, education, military spending and military commitments, relations with China or India or Russia or Mexico, or [name your six other top real-world concerns]. And oh, yes, the prospects of coping with the threat to civic and economic order posed by climate change.

As Bernie Sanders said a year ago, the “American people are sick and tired of hearing about your damn emails.” But hear about them, nonstop, is what the American people have done.

(There’s a parallel to press coverage in the 2000 campaign that I won’t take the time to spell out right now. Essentially, the minor annoyances of Al Gore’s persona were presented as equally important as the policy views the Bush-Cheney team would bring into office.)

***

So this chronicle ends as tens of millions of early votes have already been cast; with just one weekend separating us from official election day; and with all the information anyone could want already on record about these two candidates.

We know the choice we are making. People who are standing with Trump are doing so with eyes wide open. (Of course so are people who are standing with Hillary Clinton. But as The Atlantic argued in its editorial endorsing her, her strengths and weaknesses are within the range we have seen from most past presidents. Trump’s are outside the known range.)

As an envoi, for election-weekend reading with implications that touch the Clinton-Trump choice but go far beyond, I leave you with:

• David Frum, in The Atlantic, with the conservative case for a Clinton vote. (“The lesson Trump has taught is not only that certain Republican dogmas have passed out of date, but that American democracy itself is much more vulnerable than anyone would have believed only 24 months ago.”)
• Conor Friedersdorf, also a conservative, also in The Atlantic, on the perils of false-equivalent thinking. (“The Democratic nominee’s shortcomings should not blind voters to the catastrophe they’d invite by electing her cruel, undisciplined, erratic opponent.”)
• Michael Gerson, like David Frum a one-time White House speechwriter for George W. Bush, in The Washington Post. (“The single most frightening, anti-democratic phrase of modern presidential history came in Trump’s convention speech: ‘I alone can fix it.’”)
• A WaPo editorial on the choice that Republicans and conservatives are making, and how it should be remembered. (“When the republic was in danger, where did you stand? History will ask that question of Republican leaders who knew that Donald Trump was unfit to be commander in chief.”)
• Frank Rich, in NY magazine, to similar effect. (“Charles Lindbergh was a national hero, then a fascist sympathizer. History will be just as brutal to more than a few current Republican leaders.”)
• Paul Waldman in the WaPo about similar questions of values and institutions that will last beyond the election. (“There is something deeply troubling happening right now, and it goes beyond the ordinary trading of blows in a campaign season.”)
• Brian Beutler, in TNR, on similar long-term challenges for democratic institutions. (“Republicans only flirted with nullification during the Obama presidency, but under a Clinton presidency we could conceivably face a full-blown crisis of one kind or another within weeks—regardless of which party controls the Senate.”)
• Jonathan Chait, in New York magazine, on the changes this campaign has worked on our political system. (“Trump has revealed the convergence of two movements more extreme than anything in the free world that may yet threaten the democratic character most Americans take as their birthright.”)
• Jonathan Swan of The Hill on emerging Republican calls to stop considering Supreme Court nominees at all, until the next Republican president wins. (“The Heritage Foundation, a group that enjoys significant sway on the right ... wants Republicans to get comfortable making the case that the court can function just fine with eight justices. ”)
• Katy Tur, of NBC, on what it has been like to have Trump call her out by name for the derision of the crowd at his mass rallies. (This is a video, so I’m not pulling a quote, but it is quite sobering to watch.)
• Wayne Barrett, long of the Village Voice and the NY Daily News, writing in The Daily Beast about the apparent alliance of Trump supporters Rudy Giuliani and James Kallstrom with pro-Trump factions within the FBI, leading to the last-minute email leaks. (“Fox is the pipeline for the fifth column inside the bureau, a battalion that says it’s doing God’s work, chasing justice against those who are obstructing it, while, in fact, it’s doing GOP work, even on the eve of a presidential election.”)

***

Let’s hope that starting on November 9 we can look back on this saga with chastened wonder about how close Trump came, and with cautionary guidance about the next steps toward self-governing reform.

Meanwhile read; think; vote.

Thanks for your attention in this space over the months.