Politics Plus

A DAY THAT HAS NOT LIVED IN INFAMY

Former president Donald Trump tried to overthrow American democracy from inside the government. Members of Congress and the vice president fled from a mob. People died. More were injured. The casualties include more than 140 police officers who defended the Capitol against an overwhelming onslaught. The republic was threatened.

You wouldn’t know it, though.

Insurrection sympathizers have celebrated their plot like the storming of the Bastille. Others have labeled it “America’s failed insurrection,” as though a verdict of failure were possible yet. The Department of Justice boasts that it has arrested 725 people, but they are low-level insurrectionists; the vast majority are charged with mere property crimes or obstruction of the investigation. There’s no public indication that DOJ is pursuing those who incited the attack. Even the name DOJ has given its prosecutorial effort downplays the significance of the insurrection: “Capitol Breach Cases.”

Capitol breach cases? The full name of the 9/11 Commission was “The National Commission on Terrorist Attacks Upon the United States.” By DOJ’s logic, it could’ve been called the “Unauthorized Flight Diversion Commission.” What happened on January 6 was a terrorist attack. Terrorists warrant more than bureaucratic language and slaps on the wrist.

Congress has shown more courage, but its powers are as limited as its capacity for rapid response. Congress took half a year to establish a committee to investigate the attack. News reports suggest the committee has uncovered a trove of information from hundreds of cooperating witnesses. But its initial report isn’t expected until this summer. Complicating the effort, some key witnesses have openly defied the committee and seem determined to stall in the hope of a leadership change in Congress next year.

There’s a reason accountability has been elusive: the movement behind the attack on the republic remains powerful. Just hours after the attack, 147 members of Congress voted to overturn the election because they didn’t like the result. Those who incited a mob to storm the Capitol lost a battle, not the war on democracy. The threat today is as real as it was then.

Seven Days in May

The persistence of the threat isn’t a cause for despair; it’s a call to action. Democracy has always been fragile, and threats to freedom are not new. The 1964 film Seven Days in May offers an instructive reminder of that. This black and white thriller was always a favorite of mine for its artful portrayal of the republic’s vulnerability and the need for vigilance. The film has never felt more relevant than it does now.

In the film, the chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff, General James Mattoon Scott, plots with other Pentagon leaders and at least one member of Congress to overthrow the government. The film opens with a protest outside the White House, where the treacherous general’s followers converge with followers of the president. Violence erupts.

Later, when General Scott delivers an inappropriately political speech at Madison Square Garden, it becomes clear that he has been priming the public for a change in leadership. His plot is conceived with military precision, and it fails only due to the intervention of a faithful marine, played by Kirk Douglas, who lives up to the Marine Corps’ motto: Semper Fidelis.

This depiction of democracy narrowly escaping destruction served as a warning about how those with authoritarian ambitions can misuse the government’s own machinery against itself. The fictional General Scott is said to be based partly on two real-life figures. One was the notorious General Edwin Walker, who resigned after being stripped of his command for extremist political activities and was later charged with insurrection for participating in a deadly riot to block Mississippi University’s integration. The other was General Curtis LeMay, who objected bitterly to President John F. Kennedy’s refusal to invade Cuba.

President Kennedy received an advance copy of the book on which the film was based and found it believable. The military’s top brass had earned his distrust by advocating for the tactical use of nuclear weapons and proposing terrorist attacks in Florida to generate support for invading Cuba. Kennedy urged Hollywood to make the book into a movie as a warning about the republic’s fragility.

The particulars of the film’s storyline differ from the events of January 6, but the particulars don’t matter; this is the story of a threat from within the government. In both cases, an attack incited by a demagogue follows a protest outside the White House. The film ends when the plot is foiled. We’re past that point with our insurrection, but Seven Days in May can still serve as a warning about what happens next. In the film, most (not all) of the conspirators are forced out of government, but political circumstances save them from more serious accountability for their treachery. In the absence of accountability, the viewer can’t escape feeling that the republic remains vulnerable. It could happen again.

The same is true now. President Trump and some of his allies are out of government, but they haven’t faced further accountability. Trump’s chief of staff, Mark Meadows, joined him in pressuring DOJ officials and Georgia state election officials to help overturn the election results. Trump used his public platform to incite the attack. His Pentagon appointees did not come to the aid of the hopelessly outnumbered police for hours. Trump and his supporters continue to lie about voter fraud and sow doubts about our election systems. It could happen again.

In the year since the attack on the Capitol, the danger to the republic has only grown. The movement has shifted tactics, focusing now on voter suppression and keeping its adherents primed for future action with lies about voter fraud. We should be pressing our leaders to hold those responsible for the insurrection accountable. We should be pressing them to pass voting rights legislation. We should be active participants in the work of democracy. We must be. The fate of the republic depends on it.