Remembering John McCain

Senator John McCain was, above all else, two things: a fighter and a patriot.

I served with Senator McCain on the Senate Armed Services Committee during the turbulent years of the Iraq war. As all his colleagues knew, there was no more effective legislative ally, or more formidable opponent, than John McCain.

John had his critics. He’s made his share of mistakes. But over a lifetime of public service, he got the big points right: He wanted America to stand for what was right, and he wanted America to be strong. And he’s never hesitated to say so, whether it was popular or not.
As I reflect on his career, I’m reminded of Winston Churchill’s words:

“The only guide to a man is his conscience; the only shield to his memory is the rectitude and sincerity of his actions. It is very imprudent to walk through life without this shield, because we are so often mocked by the failure of our hopes and the upsetting of our calculations; but with this shield, however the fates may play, we march always in the ranks of honour.”

During the primary season before the 2008 presidential campaign, I was invited to a very small dinner attended by some senior McCain staff and close friends and was seated next to him. It was a low point in his campaign; he’d run out of money, he was down in the polls, and the war in Iraq — which he favored continuing and ramping up — was becoming increasingly unpopular. I asked him how he expected to win the GOP nomination when the Iraq war (this was before the surge) was looking increasingly hopeless. He looked at me steadily, with a certain determination in his face, and said, “I’d rather lose an election than lose a war.” From that point on I was on his side, and I believe he would have won the election and succeeded in Iraq were it not for the advent of the financial crisis in September that year.

I knew and was friendly with John McCain from his service in the House, but when I went to see him in 1997 in his Senate office, it was with a good deal of trepidation. My message was a tough one: His most celebrated bill to reform the campaign finance system, McCain-Feingold, was unworkable. I laid out the case to John, both why his bill needed to be significantly overhauled and why our approach would be better. His response: “I don’t just want an issue. I want a law.”

The process of building a new bill meant that I spent a lot of time with John McCain, time where we talked more broadly about his life and my life. I saw up close what an extraordinary man this senator was. We had many differences politically, but I grew to admire him and love him for what he was and is — a hero with strong and enduring moral values, who represents the best this country has to offer. Getting to know him and work with him has been one of the great privileges of my life in Washington.

Among John McCain’s legacies will be his incomparable leadership in foreign affairs, most significantly in regard to national security. No public official has traveled to more meaningful places or discussed policy with more foreign leaders than John. This experience, coupled with innate sensible instincts, has positioned him to provide the best possible counsel to colleagues, presidents, and other leaders.

In foreign affairs, clear eyes and sound instincts are more valuable than good intentions. So, for example, John was an early skeptic of Vladimir Putin. (“I looked into his eyes and saw KGB.”) And, he saw earlier than most that our Iraq strategy in mid-2006 was failing.

More recently, he fought for and won at least a temporary reprieve from the harmful limits of sequestration on US defense spending.

And John has always been generous with his leadership, being sure to include in his countless trips abroad less-experienced members of both houses of Congress and both parties, as well as policymakers from think tanks, academia, and the media.

He would say it is all part of his job. The country is better off because of his contributions to US foreign and national security policy.

Amid the rancor, bitterness, and small-minded cacophony that define the modern Beltway, it is too easy to forget that there are individuals who have maintained an absolute commitment to dignity, courage, and collegiality regardless of political and policy differences. For that reason alone, America has been blessed with the lifelong service of Sen. John S. McCain III, a true patriot who always has prioritized first the well-being of his countrymen and the wisdom of the ages inherent in time-honored traditions.

His life, service, and sufferings stand in sharp contrast to the machinations that dominate much of what passes for policymaking today and offer grounds for hope that his example will serve to lead America’s leaders both current and aspiring toward a culture of greater selflessness and political sacrifice. May John S. McCain III rest in peace, and may his memory induce all Americans to strive toward his standard of honor.

It’s difficult to say something more substantive about Sen. McCain than what has already been said or written. And it can be pretentious for someone to discuss his remarkable and honorable career when one is nowhere near his universe of accomplishments. Nevertheless, with Senator McCain’s passing, I’m reminded of the passing of Sen. Henry “Scoop” Jackson some 35 years ago come this September. Both senators had made failed bids for the presidency, and both had returned to the business of the Senate and leadership positions on the Senate Armed Services Committee—which they both took seriously. But beyond this somewhat accidental but important similarity, I’ve been struck by the fact that both men had close friends on both sides of the aisle; both men were known for their principled approach to America’s role in the world; both men were more than willing to challenge the policies of presidents and colleagues in their own party when they thought necessary; and both were beloved by dissidents living under the boots of autocrats for their unfailing willingness to fight for their human and civil rights. The Democrats were a poorer party as a result of Scoops’ death. And it seems likely, if unfortunately, the same will be said about the GOP with Senator McCain’s passing.

Traditionally, a sense of honor can indicate at least one of two qualities. The first is an unwillingness to tolerate insult. The second is to work, however imperfectly, toward doing no unworthy thing. Some political figures have one of these two characteristics. Many have neither.

Unusually, John McCain had both.

He brought out the best in people, even when they disagreed with him on specific policies. He brought a sense of dignity, authenticity, and utter fearlessness to his position. In other words, he was classically American. Today, we are told by many on both sides of the aisle that these qualities have long since passed. But of course they said the same thing over fifty years ago, in an equally if not more unsettling era. McCain then proceeded to personally prove the defeatists wrong, not by what he said, but through his actions in a Vietnamese POW camp. And it is for these qualities of character above all, more than for any particular issue or vote, that McCain is not only respected but loved by so many Americans. He showed, through his life, that certain timeless qualities have not entirely disappeared in our own time. For that reason, his example lives on, and will never really die.