Santos’ removal a small step for dysfunctional Congress
George Santos, the infamous fabulist, got the boot from Congress. The first member to be expelled in over 20 years and one of only three members to be kicked out for something other than fighting for the Confederacy, Santos was the only representative since the Civil War to be removed without first being convicted of a crime (bribery, to be specific).
There’s not enough space here to recount all of the allegations against Santos, which include 23 federal charges, including fraud and identity theft.
Some of those standing athwart Santo’s defenestration yelling “Stop!” — or at least, “think this through” — make good points. Dan McLaughlin in National Review and Byron York in the Washington Examiner both argue that expelling House members without a criminal conviction will have unintended consequences. And it’s not just conservatives. Adam Serwer, a liberal writer for The Atlantic, agrees that “Congress deciding for itself whether voters have made a mistake could lead to more members being expelled for things that they are only alleged to have done.”
As York stipulates, “Santos had no business being in the House, and it was an embarrassment that he was elected in the first place.”
While their points are well-taken, I nonetheless dissent.
In almost any other institution — a business, a university, a newspaper, a law firm — the question of whether or not to fire someone doesn’t normally hinge on a criminal conviction. Say you’re a boss of an employee accused of myriad misdeeds, from making up his resume to criminal fraud. You wouldn’t fire the employee based on mere rumors. You’d conduct some kind of investigation. If that investigation provided evidence to your satisfaction, you’d fire that employee. You wouldn’t wait, possibly for years, for a criminal conviction.
Of course, Congress is different. Members don’t work for the House, they work for their constituents. “One advantage of holding off on expulsions is that a conviction provides a clear, neutral limiting principle,” the editors of the Wall Street Journal rightly note. “What’s the rule now?” they ask.
How about enough facts to satisfy two-thirds of the House? Which is what it took to oust Santos.
Expelling Santos was an act of political repair, not destruction. Yes, it violated a longstanding and defensible norm, but the decision was forced by the breakdown of other norms. For starters, Santos is a shameless fraud who had no loyalty to norms of conduct. He also took advantage of the breakdown of basic notions of journalistic and partisan due diligence. If the natural biofilters of the political ecosystem aren’t working, Congress can and should change its standards when toxic sludge sluices into the chamber.
Congress, after all, is the supreme branch of government. Congress writes the law, creates most courts and all executive agencies, and sets their salaries. Congress can fire members of the other two branches, while those branches cannot touch Congress. It can fire its own members, too.
One of the great sources of dysfunction in American politics is the refusal of Congress to take itself seriously. Removing the unserious Santos is a small first step.
One of my biggest peeves about the impeachment debates of the last quarter-century centered on the same argument used to oppose Santos’ expulsion: that the only just standard for impeaching a president can be found in criminal law.
The idea that a president must be proved guilty of a crime beyond a reasonable doubt to be removed from office is a nonsensical standard. It’s also cowardly, because it allows members of Congress to abdicate all responsibility to apply their judgment. The presumption of innocence standard is right and proper for criminal cases, because the convicted can be deprived of life and liberty. But impeachment, like expulsion, merely deprives a politician of a privilege. I’ll worry about the unintended consequences when someone undeserving loses that privilege.