Like all of us, I have been struggling to process the extraordinary events in Washington, DC over the last couple of days. Since this blog was founded in 2017, I have made every effort to afford Donald Trump the respect due to the Presidential office. That form of respect, I felt, was owed to American democracy itself.
But Trump clearly respects neither the office nor American democracy. The insurrectionist mob that attacked the U.S. Capitol on Wednesday had assembled and moved at his direction. And he did virtually nothing to stop the carnage, placing thousands of people directly in harm’s way. It is entirely proper that he be removed from office immediately.
The aftermath of the insurrection offered some comfort for those who still have great faith in America as the beacon of freedom and democracy. I watched the Senate return to its chamber and continue its debate, with members on both sides of the aisle recognizing the gravity of the situation and the particular blessings of liberty that elevated them to membership in the greatest deliberative body in history. Perhaps this shocking moment will remind all of Congress — all of our leaders, elected or unelected — that they bear heavy responsibilites that come with public service, among them reasoned debate and respect for the rule of law. Maybe — just maybe — they will lead rather than snipe. Maybe they will contemplate rather than tweet. Maybe they will show us that they, too, and worthy of the offices with which they have been entrusted.
And what of the judges? A SCOTUSBlog editorial has called on the Supreme Court to issue a statement confirming the basic fact that Joe Biden won the Presidential election. I think that is unlikely, given the Court’s reticence to express any view on an issue not directly before it. But it is nevertheless a good idea. The Justices are Americans first, and through a combination of merit and happenstance they find themselves in a position of prominence at this moment in history. They sat silently while another mob destroyed a federal courthouse in Oregon this summer. It is time to speak up. History will remember what they say — and what they don’t.
Other judges will eventually have their say, as the insurrections are rounded up and brought to justice. I am reminded of a moment nearly seven years ago, when Boston was shaken first by the bombs that detonated at the finish line of the Boston Marathon, and later that week by a manhunt that shut down the city and surrounding towns for an entire day. It was the first time I heard the phrase “shelter in place,” and it was terrifying. When I returned to school after the incident, I struggled for what to say to my students. I decided to read them a portion of the statement given by Judge William Young when he sentenced another terrorist — “shoe bomber” Richard Reid — in 2004. It captured all the feelings I had that day:
You are not an enemy combatant. You are a terrorist. You are not a soldier in any war. You are a terrorist. To give you that reference, to call you a soldier gives you far too muich stature. Whether it is the officers of government who do it or your attorney who does it, or that happens to be your view, you are a terrorist. And we do not negotiate with terrorists. We do not treat with terrorists. We do not sign documents with terrorists. We hunt them down and bring them to justice.
So war talk is way out of line in this court. You’re a big fellow. But you’re not that big. You’re no warrior. I know warriors. You are a terrorist. A species of criminal guilty of multiple attempted murders.
In a very real sense Trooper Santiago had it right when first you were taken off that plane and [placed] into custody, and you wondered where the press and TV crews were, and [he] said, “you’re no big deal.” You’re no big deal.
What your counsel, your able counsel and what the equally able United States Attorneys have grappled with, and what I have as honestly as I know tried to grapple with, is why you did something so horrific. What was it that eld you here to this courtroom today. I have listened respectfully to what you have to say. And I ask you to search your heart and ask yourself what sort of unfathomable hate led you to do what you are guilty and admit you are guilty of doing.
And I have an answer for you. It may not satisfy you. But as I search this entire record it comes as close to understanding as I know.
It seems to me you hate the one thing that to us is the most precious. You hate our freedom. Our individual freedom. Our individual freedom to live as we choose, to come and go as we choose, to believe or not to believe as we individually choose.
Here, in this society, the very winds carry freedom. They carry it everywhere from sea to shining sea. It is because we prize individual freedom so much that you are here in this beautiful courtroom. So that everyone can see, truly see that justice is administered fully, individually, and discretely.
It is for freedom’s sake that your lawyers are striving so vigorously on your behalf and have filed appeals, [and] will go on in their … representation of you before other judges. We care about it. Because we all know that the way we treat you, Mr. Reid, is the measure of our own liberties.
Make no mistake, though, It is yet true that we will bear any burden, pay any price, to preserve our freedoms.
Look around this courtroom. Mark it well. The world is not going to long remember what you or I say here. Day after tomorrow it will be forgotten. But this, however, will long endure. Here, in this courtroom, and courtrooms all across America, the American people will gather to see that justice, individual justice, not war, individual justice is in fact being done.
The very President of the United States through his officers will have to come into courtrooms and lay out evidence on which specific matters can be judged, and juries of citizens will gather to sit and judge that evidence democratically, to mold and shape and refine our sense of justice.
See that flag, Mr. Reid? That’s the flag of the United States of America. That flag will fly there long after this is all forgotten. That flag still stands for freedom. You know it always will.
Custody, Mr. Officer. Stand him down.