Rex Murphy: A Political Travesty is Unfolding in America

This sleazy attempt to get Trump out of office illustrates what happens when one side refuses to accept the voice of the people in an election

Rex Murphy, National Post
Rex Murphy is Canada's best political commentator. His drifting to the right in
recent years resulted in the termination of a very long employment at the CBC.

Back in the days when it was obvious to all the oracles of the higher punditry that Donald Trump was on a quixotic quest towards the presidency, and when it was inscribed in the granite of fate that Hillary Clinton was going to thrash the rampageous outsider, some raised a caution: what if Trump, in violation of all standards of American democracy, refused, after losing, as he was surely going to do, to accept the election’s result?

Predictably, the answer was that it would be a horror, typical of Trump’s manic manner, and in Ms. Clinton’s own tweeted words a fundamental “threat to our democracy.” The standard has always been: the people vote, the votes are counted, and save in the most exceptional and absolutely vivid demonstrations of overt and blatant examples of fraud, the loser sighs and the winner goes on to Pennsylvania Avenue. Even after the nail-biter and hanging chads debacle in the 2000 election, did not Albert Gore himself accede to George Bush II, and Americans proceeded, in the most beautiful phrase in politics, “to put it all behind them?”

Not so when, so to speak, Alaric stormed the empire and reduced Rome to ruins, which is the only historic template for how progressives viewed and still view Trump’s successful march to the White House. The psychological shock was massive and unprecedented, the “pussy hats” were out marching in days, and opinion columnists sobbed over the trauma of voters who found themselves incontinent with rage and sorrow that Trump, the disruptor, had won.

It was not, among the virulently anti-Trump forces, supposed to have been this way. Within the coven of Clinton supporters a Trump victory was against nature; it could not be, the goddess of glass ceilings must have been, had to have been, cheated. Hillary herself over the months that followed unspiralled a vast catalogue of why she shouldn’t have lost and then fixed upon the No. 1 favourite. Trump and his lawless henchpersons had “stolen” or “manipulated” the process. And most particularly, most explosively, spun the story of how the dread Darth Putin and Trump had secretly, nefariously, maliciously colluded and “stolen” the election from Hillary.

From the elegant hostelries of Martha’s Vineyard to the sleek mansion-palaces of the Silicon Valley hyper-tycoons, the keening went on. And thus, as soon as Trump was installed, the charge was made, that Trump was in the White House only because he had “colluded” with the Russians, and therefore he was not “really” president. It went even more raw than that. Some of the cable networks, and most of the big press, became utterly absorbed in the effort to prove collusion. The most hysterical of the Russian conspiracy theorists, Rachel Maddow of MSNBC, went on every night for two and a half years articulating every wild wisp of an allegation that Trump was an agent of Russia, Putin’s stooge — a president beholden to an enemy tyrant.

With that as context the move to impeach originated. It would not do to have a “Russian asset” control the government of the United States. And for close to two and a half years the Russian connection was investigated as the strongest possible, irrefutable reason to take him out of office: to impeach him, and rid the country of his Russian-contaminated presence in the White House.

Hillary Clinton speaks at the Jewish Labor Committee’s Annual Human Rights Awards Dinner on Dec. 9, 2019, in New York City. Jeenah Moon/Getty Images

So there were investigations without number, hearings without end, with Robert Mueller, the distinguished, highly respected Washington prestige-figure all the while doing the most detailed and rigorous dive into the whole mess. Mueller was going to do the job, bring home the bacon. No report was more anticipated. And when it did come: Nada, nothing, no American, no one in the Trump administration, not Trump himself or his auxiliaries had “colluded with the Russians to steal the election.” The Russian collusion fantasy collapsed. Democrats again went into mourning. Rachel Maddow checked in for aromatherapy and radical grief counselling.

But. The impeachment game itself was not the least affected. After Russia, Russia, Russia every day, almost within minutes the impeach brigade jumped on a phone call to Ukraine. I’m not going to detail this adventure save to note that the speed with which his opponents went from “having evidence of collusion with Russia” as the ground base for their impeachment efforts — the very speed of the switch to Ukraine, was or should be mind-blowing.

And now to this very week: when articles of impeachment have been drawn up to vote on, on Wednesday or Thursday, there are only two charges — abuse of power and obstruction of Congress. Where’s Russia, where’s Lord Putin, where’s treason and being a “stooge” of a foreign power? How can they leap, with such shameless ease, from the massive campaign of nearly three years insisting they had proof Trump was a tool of Putin, to this petty sideline of an allegation that Trump abused his power on a phone call to Ukraine?

A copy of the House of Representatives articles of impeachment resolution that Democrats hope to use to impeach U.S. President Donald Trump is seen after being released in Washington on Dec. 10, 2019. Jim Bourg/Reuters

All this sits alongside what has been revealed during this farce, that the FBI and its masters had set spies in Trump’s campaign, that they had used the Steele dossier — compiled by the Clinton camp and utterly discredited — to obtain the famous FISA warrants, that they had played pat-a-ball with Hillary on her server, and the Clinton Foundation’s octopus relation with foreign “investors.” That, in fact, the whole predicate of their investigations came from a paid-for, confected, Clinton research dump, with some of the most salacious, unverified and to-be-proven-false allegations ever to rise against a president. The immortal charge came from the head of the FBI himself, and was repeated in his book tour: “I honestly never thought these words would come out of my mouth, but I don’t know whether the current president of the United States was with prostitutes peeing on each other in Moscow in 2013,” he said. “It’s possible, but I don’t know.” Of course James Comey didn’t know — that’s the off-ramp of every sly insinuation.

So now this week, the move to impeachment proceeds but is reduced from the melodrama of Russian collusion, the word Russia not even in the two articles of the impeachment itself. And what are these two? Nothing more than a formless and flowing river of hot fudge and mostly composed of the same materials, so vague they could be hauled out on a thousand occasions.

Members of the House Rules Committee hold a hearing on the impeachment of U.S. President

Donald Trump in Washington, D.C., on Dec. 17, 2019. Saul Loeb/AFP via Getty Images

But no Russia. That’s the big take: It is what is not in the charges, which assures anyone looking at this that the desire to impede, demean and entangle Trump, not “high crimes and misdemeanours,” was and is the whole and only motive behind a transparent travesty. The impeachment process as we have observed turns, with vicious irony, on something Hillary Clinton herself warned about, when she was “certain” and half the country was, too, that she was going to win. That not accepting the result of an election was a grave threat to American democracy.

She was right. The past three years, clouded daily by this sleazy attempt to get Trump out by means other than by democratic vote, is the full illustration of what happens when one side — the Democrats — refuse to accept the voice of the people in an election. And there is an additional irony attached: the impeachment mania may well increase support for Trump and give him a second term. As was said of old: He who diggeth a pit shall fall into it.

If Trump's phone call with Zelensky is grounds for impeachment, I guarantee there is not one President who ever sat in the Oval Office who didn't deserve a similar fate. And many have committed far more outrageous travesties, but no-one is looking into those.

It should be noted here that the Republicans did exactly the same thing during the first term of Obama. They attempted to distort and prevent everything he tried to do, not on the basis of individual merit, but because they so intensely disliked him, whether for his colour, his progressiveness, or his preference for Muslims over Jews. They certainly did not respect the people's choice. Whoever wins next year, should expect more of the same, only, perhaps, worse.

The UN Climate Panel That Cried Wolf Too Often - Rex Murphy

Rex Murphy, National Post

You can’t set multiple deadlines for Doomsday. It’s a kind of one-off by nature.

Do it too often and people cease to take notice or even care.

Everybody loves the Apocalypse. The idea of the end of the world, the more imminent the better, has always had enthusiastic popular support. For as long as we’ve enjoyed life on this delightful Earth there has been a morose and righteous sect of one sort or another telling us the lease was nearly up, the doomsday bailiff coming any minute now to shut things down forever. And whether from the abrasive thrill of the message, or the melodrama of the scenario, people have lapped it up.

Indeed there is a whole category of philosophy devoted to that time when the world in flame and fire renders itself into ash, when time stands still, life evaporates into eternity and all is dead and cold. It is impressively called eschatology — the study of The Four Last Things. Not, as might be facilely assumed, Feminism, Ecowarts, Don Lemon and WE Day, but the rather more appetizing quartet of Death, Judgment, Heaven and Hell. It is the four last things, not the four most annoying.

As an attention-getter, The End is Near is right up there with the fabled cry of “Fire” in a crowded theatre. Identical really, as claiming the world is about to end any moment now is the loudest possible cry of “Fire” in the largest possible theatre of all. The call does gather a crowd. Under the spell of lunatic prophets belching Armageddon, people have done the craziest things — crowded on mountain tops or gone off into the torrid desert — to await the end, only, of course, in the end (that never happens) to be disappointed.

Its enchantment never fades. However often it proves hollow, there is always another set ready to take it up. (It’s like the Quebec referendum: if at first you don’t secede, try, try again. Sorry.) Summoning the shadow of universal doom has advanced many a fretful cause, spawned numerous sects, and wrought tribulation and anxiety in the minds of men since ancient times.

Religious pretenders, in particular, have demonstrated a fondness for the imagery and idea of extinction and collapse and none quite so gluttonously as the modern sectarians of the environmental movement. They have been throwing out scares of population bombs, famine, extinction, wars, world floods, vast migrations and — the favourite — imminent and absolute global ecological collapse for decades now. It would take a master of the abacus to tot up how many “deadlines” and “last chances” and “tipping points” and “if-we-don’t-act-NOW-it-will-be-too lates” the world has been teased with, whether from Prince Charles on his private train, sundry ecological anchorites, or the pursed pious lips of the “we’re-here-to-save-you, send-in-your-money-now” megacorp fundraising machines of Greenpeace, the Sierra Club and all their green ilk.

None however, have more versatility with the alarm bells of the apocalypse than the annual gatherings of the Gotterdammerung club, the Infinite Projectors of Climate Collapse, the assembly of existential dread known as the IPCC. For them, as Paris was for terse Hemingway, the end of the world is a moveable feast. For near three decades now they have held their annual jumbo jamborees. And every year the news is worse, the threats are greater, and it is always just a hair’s breadth from being too late. The scene is always the same. A keening goes around the assembled multitude of worshippers as a fresh and even more definitive deadline than any of the past 20 or 30 for Saving the Planet as inscribed in The Book of Climate Revelations.

The IPCC enjoys a delightfully recurrent state of despair over the world’s imminent collapse, which happily coincides with the release of each annual report. This is not without some burden of paradox. Had the world come close to ending when and as many times as its green sages have foretold, there wouldn’t be enough of it left to hold their next conference. An extinction event “devoutly to be wished.”

Things are looking, unsurprisingly, down. 2100 used to be the final frontier. It’s been moved up some 70 years to 2030. And we’ve lost half a degree. The new threshold is 1.5, where we used to have the full comforts of a whole two degrees. Other good news. No one is living up to their commitments. Even the most sanctimonious on the subject. […]

The trouble with apocalypses is that they can’t be plural. You only get one by definition. Neither can you set multiple deadlines for Doomsday. It’s a kind of one-off by nature. Do it too often and people cease to take notice or even care.

Everyone knows the sad story of Cassandra, the woman given the gift of true prophecy by the gods and simultaneously cursed to have no one believe her. The IPCC’s problem, up to now, is like that but reversed. Always off, but generously credited. I think that string has run out. They can play Wagner and whistle the Ride of the Valkyries all they want from here on. People are tired of that music, and sick of the band.

For many years, Rex Murphy was a highly respected commentator on CBC (Canadian Broadcasting Corp - Canada's left-leaning national broadcaster), until recently. Was it the honesty with which he exposed the great global warming hysteria that got him fired? Was he just not leaning far enough to the left? 

Neither of Canada's other two national broadcasters are anywhere closer to centre, so they have no use for a commentator who is, and who is honest.

Rex Murphy: Curb Your Climate Change Enthusiasm

Rex Murphy

    AP Photo/Mosa'ab Elshamy - Catherine McKenna, Canada's environment minister, chairs a 
    panel featuring Canadian Indigenous leaders discussing climate change, at the COP22 climate
    change conference n Marrakech, Morocco, Wednesday, Nov. 16, 2016.

At the critical moment of every second-rate movie ever made, when the town is under siege from the bandits, or the maiden is tied to the railway tracks and the hero is lost on what must be done, there will come a voice from the crowd: “What we need now is action!”

With that insight, the posse forms, the hero swoops, the town is saved, the maiden rescued from the onrushing locomotive, Stetsons fly into the air, and the victors ride off into the sunset.

I thought of these old and desperate melodramas when I read of Catherine McKenna, our environment and climate change minister, on safari to save the planet, this time in Marrakesh, Morocco, trailing her own posse.

The minister signalled to the world that Canada was, again, on the case: “We’re moving forward, as is the world. Everyone is absolutely committed to climate action.” Great news. Everyone is agreed that what we need now is action. Almost makes you wonder why in all their multitudes they went to Marrakesh at all, what with everyone “absolutely committed” to … action.

Does the everyone of which she speaks include President-elect, Donald Trump? And does that “whole world” contain the greatest industrial powerhouse of our troubled globe, the U.S.? Does Trump’s charming disinclination to heed the belief that the Earth is doomed without a carbon tax subtract from McKenna’s universalist optimism? It should.

For if the U.S. decides that Paris and its tenuous, non-binding resolutions are not of interest, is not her buoyant outburst more than a little out of key? With the U.S. out of the climate game, China multiplying coal-powered plants and free to spew emissions, India emergent as an industrial power, and half the world paying lip service to the cause, whence comes McKenna’s furious optimism? From an empty place, I would offer.

But regardless of what a Trump administration might do to the concert of consensus, McKenna soldiers on: The rest of the world “recognize(s) that pricing pollution is the best way to reduce emissions.”

The minister is playing semantic shuffle here. Carbon dioxide does not make smog. She is taking the lingo of the fight against pollution, which was sensible and has had demonstrable results, and using it for brush work on the different terrain of (contested) theories of imminent climatic disaster.

Nor is “pricing pollution … the best way to reduce emissions.” The best way would be to forbid all use of fossil fuel by diktat. Or, more congenially, to ask all countries to stop all industrial activity based on the use of oil, gas and coal. This would obviously be a huge hit in China, India, Africa, Cuba — now that it is in the sunshine again  — and, of course, Canada. Though drastic, it would at least have the merit of matching in substance the fever of the hyperbolic, apocalyptic rhetoric that trails around world climate conferences.

As ice to the fevered brow, let me offer a more contained understanding of what it means for the climate change file now that Trump will be adding Air Force One to his fleet. Brad Wall, premier of Saskatchewan, does not have McKenna’s gift for unmoored enthusiasms, but he does have a good eye for irresistible facts. His view is it “makes no sense for our federal government to push ahead with imposing a national carbon tax when our biggest trading partner — and our biggest competitor for investment and jobs — is not going to have one.”

Could Wall, who is not in Marrakesh, be on to something? At a time of economic stress in the Western provinces, the Alberta economy blistered by oil prices, Fort McMurray still reeling from the after-effects of the inferno last spring, Newfoundland wandering into debt hell — why impose artificial and unilateral restraints on our national economy? In particular, why impose restraints that will place us at major disadvantage with the one economy that matters most to Canada?

I doubt Wall’s more realistic take on these matters will do much to suppress the Trudeau government’s enchantment with posturing on the world stage. On this file, McKenna is clearly speaking the wishes of her prime minister, who prefers to see the election of Trump as having no bearing on his beloved climate tax. Justin Trudeau insisted in a recent interview that it is he, not Trump, who is “on the right side of history,” an awkward phrase in the best of times. Being “on the right side of history,” and Trudeau should know this, has an unfortunate provenance, and is always more of a cloudy boast than a fact.

He went on to assert that “there is tremendous economic disadvantage from not acting in the fight against climate change; for not pushing toward cleaner jobs and reducing emissions.” If he really wished to substantiate that argument, Ontario provides a perfect illustration: its green energy policy is a master plan for plunging a prosperous province into lacerating debt, while financing its dream with power bills that are stirring a populist revulsion.

The rhetoric of climate change has an aversion to reality, seduces governments into ignoring the needs of their citizens, and fires the minds of politicians who imagine themselves saving the world. In other words, it tempts them to feel they are more important than they are, that they are working with “history,” rather than operating administrations faced with more immediate, if mundane, needs. That is always a snare and a delusion.

National Post

Justin Trudeau’s UN Address was a Meaningless Speech to a Worthless Body

Rex Murphy: Telling it like it is

    Drew Angerer/Getty ImagesPrime Minister Justin Trudeau addresses the United Nations General
    Assembly at UN headquarters, Sept. 20, 2016 in New York City.

Given the chance to address, say, the local numismatics society, or even the rotary club, the wise citizen would gladly choose either of these over the opportunity to speak in front of the ill-named United Nations. The stamp collectors and the Rotarians at least have the virtue of being what they say they are, and when they offer the podium to an outsider, they do so with the honest belief that the speaker will have something interesting or useful to say, and that he or she will actually be listened to.

The United Nations, on the other hand, though it is nothing if not diverse (dictators and kleptocrats rub shoulders with democratic presidents and prime ministers), it is so crosshatched with rivalries, intrigue, devious diplomacy and hypocritical posturing, that to speak of it as “united” is a contradiction in terms.

Consider its Human Rights Council, on which some of the most gruesome theocracies and grinding dictatorships on our tormented planet have held sway, thus undermining the supposed reason for its existence. Once in a while, the body does manage to come to an agreement, but only when its members unite to condemn the state of Israel (the detestation of Israel being something of a ground bass for UN sanctimony).

When the UN, with its posturing and deal-making, is not actively making things worse, or turning a blind eye to atrocities, it does have moments of pure play-acting and harmless diversion. At such moments, it takes on the atmosphere, minus the dignity, of the Ted Talks. These usually coincide with visits from the leaders of the world’s democracies. It is a favoured venue of U.S. President Barack Obama, for example.

Obama favours this meretricious chamber because it allows him to smugly lecture the rest of the world on being on the “right side of history” and the “moral arc” of our times. Meanwhile, the ravages in Syria continue unabated and North Korea, under its sovereign tyrant, Kim Jong-un, continues ramping up its nuclear program. The truly wretched of the Earth grow more wretched and the world, as they say, marches on.

This week, it was our dewy-fresh prime minister’s turn to address this esteemed body and, either out of vanity or innocence, he didn’t turn down the invitation. As to the substance of his effusion, one would need an intellectual Geiger counter to find any. The speech was described by the National Post’s John Ivison as “thin as soup made from the carcass of a starving pigeon.” And that’s being generous.

The address easily could have been passed off as a high-school valedictorian speech: it was trite, without being testy, and full of false equivalencies. It bore the now-ineluctable stamp of Prime Minister Justin Trudeau’s compulsion to hymn, yet again, the all-ranging virtues of diversity.

Fluffing a pillow in front of the UN delegates

would have had more of an impact

This word “diversity” has something of a clamp on Trudeau’s brain. He seems to think that merely to pronounce it out loud is to add to the sum of human insight, that its four flat syllables compress all the wisdom of the Sermon on the Mount, Abraham Lincoln’s second inaugural address and the best of Norman Vincent Peale into one handy little word. Yet fluffing a pillow in front of the UN delegates would have had more of an impact.

It’s a pity that, even in that forlorn venue, Trudeau was unwilling to let go of that rhetorical Linus blanket and say a few things about what is really going on in the world. He could have offered some meaningful analysis on the situation in Syria. He could have uttered some truths to those who rarely hear them. Instead, it was the usual mush about “modest Canada” and how we’re back and ready to help.

It really is time to stop bragging about how modest we are, as one cannot honestly brag about being modest. And besides, it’s unseemly. Let other countries pay testimony to our worth if they are so moved to do so. And as for diversity, yes it is a fine virtue as far as virtues go, but so are unity, coherence, national identity, fiscal competence and the rule of law. Saying the word “diversity” is not like waving a magic wand that somehow rids us of all tribulation and want. Nor is it, by any test, the only metric for a healthy and admirable society.

But it was a UN session, and perhaps it is understood that to scatter anything but clichés and self-congratulations before that august convocation would be a breach of its worthless protocols.

National Post

Rex Murphy: The High Church of Global Warming - Priceless

Rex Murphy, National Post

U.S. Secretary of State John Kerry, right, walks with advisors at
the Paris climate conference

As this edition of the Post hits the stands, the great Conclave of Catastrophists in Paris will have concluded. The last goose will gladly have surrendered its swollen liver — foie gras does not come without exertion — to the last epicure environmentalist. We have been told that the French did not stint on lending all the arts of its fabled cuisine to assist the Great Deliberators. State dinners took on something of the largesse and abundance last recorded by Gibbon in his descriptions of the Emperor Heliogabalus, who is reputed to have served up the tongues of hummingbirds, peacock brains and mice sauteed in honey, to the jaded appetites of his decadent court.

The reference here to far earlier times is not accidental or flip. Just as in the early centuries of Christianity, when the patristic Fathers struggled with various heresies and sought to stabilize the dogmas of the then-nascent Faith, held their great Councils to parse the finer points of esoteric doctrine, the Parisian analogue gave itself over to even more subtle ruminations: whether, for example, it was best to “commit” to ensuring the planet’s temperature doesn’t rise more than 1.5 degrees by the year 2100, or whether it was best merely to hold the thermometer to a more expansive two degrees.

How much mental energy must have been expanded over that winsome 0.5 degrees, 80 years down the road? The subtleties involved, the logical intricacies deployed, would have outpaced Aquinas and sent poor Augustine to bed early with a migraine. However, the modern monks of the High Church of Global Warming have resources that the early philosophers and theologians could not even dream of — they have computer models that dance in the direction wished of them.

Paris climate talks enter overtime as diplomats clash over cost of fighting global warming
And when what they deliciously refer to as the “settled science” does not serve their needs, they have always about them the ancient texts of Earth in the Balance by Reverend Al Gore, or the early press releases of the Dun Scotus of Global Warming, Cardinal Emeritus George Monbiot.

And where the scholiasts of old, wrestling with imperfect transcriptions and dubious translations of Holy Scripture had only prayer to guide them on the knotty questions of global warming — such as how many polar bears can dance on the edge of an ice floe — the priests of Climatology can always consult the Oracles of Greenpeace and the Sierra Club; or when in deeper need — say on the relationship between the decline of the coral reefs and bovine flatulence — refer to the obiter dicta of Bishops Tutu or Suzuki, on which matters such authorities speak with a Truth beside which that of Scripture is a mere contrail.

Not having been in Paris myself, I cannot speak of how they marked the end of their tormented consultations, whether they wafted a few puffs of invisible carbon dioxide over the steeple of the Eiffel Tower, or burnt a few outdated physics texts to mark the beginning of the new era their meeting signified. But they surely could not have ended without pointing to the example — the evidence-based example I should stress — of what happens when governments take the Dogma of New Green seriously.

If one wishes to learn the true value of what a commitment

 to the New Learning actually involved, then Ontario is both laboratory and experiment

The experience of Ontario, as underscored by the very timely report of its auditor general — released as the great Throng was chewing over these very questions — had to have been an inspiration and a comfort. For Ontario provides, as it were, a case-study of what happens to reason and policy when a government truly gives itself over to the new Meditations. Ontario as all the world knows went Green with fervour, with former premier Dalton McGuinty and his successor, Premier Kathleen Wynne, fancying themselves something of the Copernicus and Tycho Brahe of the New Green Learning. And was it not learned from the auditor general that their great dive into a solar and wind powered future has cost the innocent citizens of Ontario a mere $37 billion more than it should have, which could give rise to another, extra $133 billion by 2032?

If one wishes to learn the true value of what a commitment to the New Learning actually involved, then Ontario is both laboratory and experiment. By what fraction of a degree did the world’s temperature actually lower itself — was it 0.01 per cent, 0.001 per cent or any fractional mite in between? — for that $37 billion?

Could it even be — Heresy of Heresies — that maybe the global temperature moved not at all, or — Good Gore, save us — went upwards? We cannot know, for it is the nature of this subject that substantive answers are never possible nor welcome. When dealing with the “airy subtleties” of the new Faith, we must settle for ignorance, but as long as it is for the Great Cause, as long as 50,000 can jet to Paris, Rio or Beijing annually, who cares that we have no certainty? As long as the faith holds, there is no call for certainties.

Save the one more important than all the rest: the idea that the vastly imperfect governments of this world, who between them cannot guarantee anything six months out, can speak with serene confidence on the Whole Atmosphere of our Great Dynamic Planet nearly 100 years from now?

I do not wish to end on a cynical turn here. There has been on undeniable improvement wrought from this great Conclave. St. Leonardo di Caprio, patron spirit of The Yachts of the Monaco Basin, learned for the first time this week that there is such a thing as a chinook. So we now know that there is a least one fact in that well-photographed head of his, and that probably makes it superior to many of those other heads that met so urgently in Paris.

National Post