18 September 2018, US Senate, Washington DC, USA
Mr. President, for more than four decades, I have had the distinct privilege of serving in the United States Senate, what some have called the world’s greatest deliberative body. Speaking on the Senate floor; debating legislation in committee; corralling the support of my colleagues on compromise legislation—these are the moments I will miss. These are the memories I will cherish forever. To address this body is to experience a singular feeling—a sense that you are a part of something bigger than yourself, a minor character in the grand narrative that is America. No matter how often I come to speak at this lectern, I experience that feeling—again and again. But today, if I’m being honest, I also feel sadness. Indeed, my heart is heavy. It aches for the times when we actually lived up to our reputation as the world’s greatest deliberative body. It longs for the days in which Democrats and Republicans would meet on middle ground rather than retreat to their partisan trenches. Now some may say I’m waxing nostalgic, yearning—as old men often do—for some golden age that never existed. They would be wrong. The Senate I’ve described is not some fairytale but the reality we once knew. Having served as a Senator for nearly 42 years, I can tell you this: things weren’t always as they are now.
I was here when this body was at its best. I was here when regular order was the norm, when legislation was debated in committee, and when members worked constructively with one another for the good of the country. I was here when we could say, without any hint of irony, that we were members of the world’s greatest deliberative body. Times have certainly changed. Over the last several years, I have witnessed the subversion of Senate rules, the abandonment of regular order, and the full-scale deterioration of the judicial confirmation process. Polarization has ossified. Gridlock is the new norm. And like the humidity here, partisanship permeates everything we do. On both the left and the right, the bar of decency has been set so low that jumping over it is no longer the objective. Limbo is the new name of the game. How low can you go? The answer, it seems, is always lower. All the evidence points to an unsettling truth: The Senate, as an institution, is in crisis. The committee process lies in shambles. Regular order is a relic of the past. And compromise—once the guiding credo of this great institution—is now synonymous with surrender. Since I first came to the Senate in 1978, the culture of this place has shifted fundamentally—and not for the better. Here, there used to be a level of congeniality and kinship among colleagues that was hard to find anywhere else. In those days, I counted Democrats among my very best friends. One moment, we would be locking horns on the Senate floor; the next, we would be breaking bread together over family dinner.
My unlikely friendship with the late Senator Kennedy embodied the spirit of goodwill and collegiality that used to thrive here. Teddy and I were a case study in contradictions. He was a dyed-in-the-wool Democrat; I was a resolute Republican. But by choosing friendship over party loyalty, we were able to pass some of the most significant bipartisan achievements of modern times—from the Americans with Disabilities Act and the Religious Freedom Restoration Act to the Ryan White bill and the State Children’s Health Insurance Program.Nine years after Teddy’s passing, it’s worth asking: Could a relationship like this even exist in today’s Senate? Could two people with polar-opposite beliefs and from vastly different walks of life come together as often as Teddy and I did for the good of the country? Or are we too busy vilifying each other to even consider friendship with the other side? Mr. President, many factors contribute to the current dysfunction. But if I were to identify the root of our crisis, it would be this: the loss of comity and genuine good feeling among Senate colleagues. Comity is the cartilage of the Senate—the soft connective tissue that cushions impact between opposing joints. But in recent years, that cartilage has been ground to a nub. All movement has become bone on bone. Our ideas grate against each other with increasing frequency—and with nothing to absorb the friction. We hobble to get any bipartisan legislation to the Senate floor, much less to the President’s desk. The pain is excruciating, and it is felt by the entire nation. We must remember that our dysfunction is not confined to the Capitol. It ripples far beyond these walls—to every state, to every town, and to every street corner in America.
The Senate sets the tone of American civic life. We don’t mirror the political culture as much as we make it. It’s incumbent on us, then, to move the culture in a positive direction, keeping in mind that everything we do here has a trickle-down effect. If we are divided, then the nation is divided. If we abandon civility, then our constituents will follow. And so, to mend the nation, we must first mend the Senate. We must restore the culture of comity, compromise, and mutual respect that used to exist here. Both in our personal and public conduct, we must be the very change we want to see in the country. We must not be enemies but friends. Though passion may have strained, it must not break our bonds of affection. The mystic chords of memory...will yet swell...when again touched, as surely they will be, by the better angels of our nature.These are not my words but the words of President Abraham Lincoln. They come from a heartfelt plea he made to the American people long ago on the eve of the Civil War. Lincoln’s admonition is just as timely today as it was then. If ever there were a time in our history to heed the better angels of our nature, it is now. How can we answer Lincoln’s call to our better angels? Over the last several months, I have devoted significant time and resources to answering this question. In a series of essays and floor speeches, I have sought to put flesh on the bones of Lincoln’s appeal. These writings provide a blueprint for fixing our broken politics. They include:An essay on civility—the indispensable political norm—and how to restore it to the public discourse;
A speech entitled A Tale of Two Cities, which draws from the tragedies of Charlottesville and Houston in the summer of 2017 to issue a call for unity and strength;A well-reasoned critique of identity politics—specifically, the threat it poses to the American experiment and how we can heal age-old divisions by embracing the politics of ideas, not identity;A discourse on the invaluable worth of the individual and how affirming this worth can help us curb the suicide epidemic among LGBTQ youth and create a stronger, more civil society;A proposal to establish Geneva Conventions for the culture wars—a new set of norms that can ease partisan tensions and help us contain the worst excesses of political warfare;And finally, an op-ed on pluralism and how embracing this forgotten virtue can help us overcome tribal tolerance and effect meaningful change. These writings appeal to the humanity, grace, and inherent goodness in each of us. The purpose of this project is to remind readers of the singularity of the American experiment and how we can preserve this great nation only by heeding the higher virtues within us. As a parting gift, I plan to share a copy of this compilation with each of my Senate colleagues, as well as our friends in the House and leaders in the executive branch. I sincerely ask that each of you take the time to study these writings. Please, ponder their words and ask yourself how we can apply these ideas to restore our nation’s civic health.
When we heed our better angels—when we hearken to the voices of civility and reason native to our very nature—we can transcend our tribal instincts and preserve our democracy for future generations. That we may do so is my humble prayer.
I yield the floor