If Washington, D.C., gave out end-of-the-year awards for greatest political performance, Sen. Elizabeth Warren, D-Mass., and Director of the Office of Management and Budget Mick Mulvaney would be tied for the Oscar.
Their battle over the fate of the Consumer Financial Protection Bureau has spilled over from letters of inquiry to dueling Wall Street Journal op-eds and finally a cage match in committee, increasing in intensity with every iteration. The sarcasm was unmistakable and the contempt they share for one another palpable during their Thursday exchange during a Senate Banking Committee hearing.
She was angry he didn’t answer any of the 105 questions she sent him in a letter.
He told her it was because of how she designed CFPB. It was her fault he was unaccountable.
She accused him of “hurting real people to score cheap political points.”
He told her to be careful. Her political ambitions were showing through her rhetoric.
Journalists on deadline described the exchange like a grudge match, as if “Warren v. Mulvaney” were a one-time pay-per-view showdown. But the biting back-and-forth was much larger and much more sarcastic, sublime, and savage. It was the kind of oversight theater not seen since Rep. Trey Gowdy, R-S.C., was in his prime and not appreciated since IRS Commissioner John Koskinen was censured by Congress.
Take just one scene: When Warren suggested that Mulvaney had the CFPB drop a suit against payday lenders because of industry donations, he launched into a pointed lecture on “civil discourse.”
“Prior to receiving your letter, I never would have thought to consider, for instance, whether your vote against repealing the bureau’s arbitration rule was influenced by campaign donations you may have received from trial lawyers or other parties who stood to gain financially from the rule,” Mulvaney said, winding up to his final line. “Perhaps I should reconsider.”
It was brutal, because Warren is campaigning for president inside the Senate chamber (everybody knows it). And it was true, because Warren really loves those campaign contributions (Federal Election Commission disclosures show it).
But the bottom line, the real reason why this snarky performance deserves multiple and sustained standing ovations is that Warren and Mulvaney are fighting about important things. The sniping isn’t petty. It’s substantive.
At issue is whether or not a government agency can, or should, operate without congressional restraint. Warren helped design a juggernaut of a bureau, a big behemoth beholden unto only itself. Wound up by Congress and left to its own devices, the CFPB can legislate, execute, and adjudicate its own policies. It is the zenith of the administrative state, and it runs contrary to the central premise of representative government.
Enter Mulvaney. He hates the organization he leads, because it’s unaccountable to the people it governs. That’s why the energy is so real.
Enter Warren. She hates the organization she used to love, because it’s unaccountable to her and under his control. That’s why the drama is so good.
The triumph of the entire performance comes from the ironic existential crisis bubbling volcano-like inside the progressive superstar. Mulvaney isn’t running roughshod for roughshod’s sake. He is making a point: If liberals don’t like unaccountable bureaucrats they shouldn’t create unaccountable bureaucrats in the first place. Adding solution to that injury, Mulvaney has suggested several sweeping legislative changes to limit his own power.
Bravo and encore until 2020.
