Lindsey Graham’s Defense of Brett Kavanaugh Told Us Everything

South Carolina Senator Lindsey Graham passed away this weekend. I imagine most people will remember him as the guy who was always willing to put the final lick-polish on Donald Trump’s jackboots. But for me, the image of him screaming, gesticulating, and spitting in defense of an alleged attempted rapist is the one that will always be indelible in my hippocampus. 

On the morning of September 27, 2018, Dr. Christine Blasey Ford testified in front of the Senate Judiciary Committee about the time Brett Kavanaugh, then a nominee to the Supreme Court of the United States, tried to rape her. Ford was brave, compelling, and most important, credible. 

The Republicans on the Judiciary Committee did not question Ford. They didn’t have the guts to tell a survivor of an attempted assault that she was lying to her face. Instead, the Republicans outsourced their time for questions to an experienced state prosecutor from Arizona, Rachel Mitchell, who tried to poke holes in Ford’s story. But Mitchell was largely ineffective. Ford, though speaking meekly, never wavered. She was consistent about what she remembered, who she told, and what Kavanaugh did to her. When asked about her strongest memory of the event, Ford said: “Indelible in the hippocampus is the laughter. The uproarious laughter between the two [Kavanaugh and his friend Mark Judge], and their having fun at my expense.” 

By the time Ford was finished with her testimony, the Kavanaugh nomination appeared cooked. Most people watching believed Ford. 

In the afternoon, Kavanaugh was hauled back in front of the committee to respond. His histrionics during his opening statement are now famous. He ranted, he raved, he cried. He professed a love for beer and promised his enemies would “reap the whirlwind” for questioning him. Kavanaugh’s statement was so unhinged and so unbecoming of a future Supreme Court justice, it would have gone down in history as the last gasps of a drowning man if not for one person: Lindsey Graham.

You see, to justify their cowardice, the Republicans planned to let Mitchell question both Ford and Kavanaugh. Republican chairman Charles Grassley allowed her to question Kavanaugh during his time, but when Graham’s turn arrived next, he refused to let Mitchell continue her questioning (which was not helping Kavanaugh in the slightest). Instead, he butted in, dispensed with Mitchell, and unleashed a tirade. He screamed, he spat, he acted like Brett Kavanaugh had been victimized by the entire process.

Graham asked Kavanaugh if he was a “gang rapist” (as if that’s what Kavanaugh had been accused of). He accused the Democrats of making Kavanaugh out to be “Bill Cosby” because they “want power.” And he threatened his fellow Republican, declaring: “To my Republican colleagues, if you vote no, you’re legitimizing the most despicable thing I have seen in my time in politics.” 

It is important to note that Graham never questioned Ford’s story or her credibility. The Republican theory of the case then (and I assume now, though they’ve tried to memory-hole the incident) is that Ford was telling the truth… she just misidentified her assailant. Somebody tried to rape Ford in high school, just not Brett Kavanaugh. Somehow the only thing Ford didn’t remember is who tried to rape her, according to Republicans. 

Graham’s vitriol turned the tide of the nomination. Republicans hadn’t found any evidence exonerating Kavanaugh (other than his high school calendar where Kavanaugh did not mark down “try to rape someone tonight”) or any evidence that Ford was lying. But they were pissed. And Graham showed them that being pissed off was enough of a reason to greenlight the nomination. They all fell in line: Mitt Romney, Jeff Flake, Susan Collins. People who one might think would be appalled by attempted rape simply rolled over in the face of spittle and tears from two very angry white men. 

Graham knew he was the key to Kavanaugh’s confirmation, and he was proud of it. For years afterwards, Graham’s Twitter profile was a picture of him with his arms wrapped around Kavanaugh.

Graham’s role in the GOP’s Supreme Court justice-making machine is one of the most important parts of his political legacy, but it’s often overlooked. In addition to his starring role in the Kavanaugh tragedy, Graham was chiefly responsible for pushing through the nomination of Amy Coney Barrett during his one stint as chair of the Senate Judiciary Committee. Barrett was confirmed on October 26, 2020. Trump lost the presidential election just one week later. One of the reasons people don’t remember this outrage is Graham’s smooth and efficient management of the process. 

Graham was also a key player during the non-confirmation of Merrick Garland to the Supreme Court. This was back in 2016, before Graham made his heel turn to Trumpism, when he was most closely associated with Senator John McCain. Most people only remember Senate Majority Leader Mitch McConnell’s role in blowing up Garland’s nomination by refusing to allow Garland to sit for a confirmation hearing. But McConnell was not on the Judiciary Committee. Graham was. If Graham (and, by extension, McCain) had bucked McConnell, the entire plan of obstruction would have fallen apart. 

And it wasn’t unreasonable, at the time, to think that Graham might have. For years, Graham traded on his image as a “bipartisan” Senator, and much of that credibility stemmed from his decisions to vote for the confirmations of Democrats Sonia Sotomayor and Elena Kagan to the Supreme Court (a fact he liked to remind people of, although his willingness to reach across the aisle disappeared when Joe Biden nominated a Black woman to the Supreme Court). There were only two people in Washington who could have stopped McConnell’s blockade simply by saying that Garland was entitled to a hearing: Graham and Chief Justice John Roberts. (While Roberts had no actual power over the nomination, a decision to speak out likely would have turned public opinion and the media narrative against McConnell’s obstructionism.)

Both men failed the moment. Graham enforced McConnell’s orders, while Roberts kept his complicit mouth shut, and the Supreme Court has never been the same. 

Indeed, Graham’s refusal to give Garland a hearing is what made his late-career villain arc wholly unsurprising to me. The most important things to Graham were power and the projection of power. Once Trump had it, Graham was always going to fall in line. He was always a moon to somebody else’s sun: unable to generate any heat on his own but happy to masquerade as a bright star in the sky if somebody else lent him some light. 

His public career would have been harmless, comical even, if it were merely about his endless escapades trying to crawl up some stronger politician’s ass. The guy driving the car always needs a person sitting in the back willing to hop out and buy a pack of cigarettes. 

But Graham’s career was not harmless, because he was also vicious. He was a war monger who played a cheering role for every death caused by American bombs over the past 20 years. And, as he showed during the Kavanaugh hearings, his chief counsel to his Republican colleagues was always to scream and yell until they got their way. 

When I think of Graham I think of a weak kid who suddenly gets emboldened when he finds his father’s handgun. He had no real power of his own but he knew how to use the power of others to its most brutal and devastating effect. 

Lindsey Graham was not the worst Republican. He was just the worst version of himself.