God bless Mitch McConnell.
The Senate Republican leader isn't an especially lovable figure. Even many of his fellow conservatives are lukewarm about him.
He's colorless and charisma-free. He's a thoroughgoing partisan who has launched more filibusters than any Senate leader in history. He's a relentless fan of unlimited campaign spending and a bitter opponent not just of Obamacare but of all things Obama. Asked in 2010 to describe his highest legislative goal, he said it was to make sure Barack Obama was a one-term president.
But the wily Kentuckian is also an old-fashioned legislative strategist who can count votes, discern when his party is holding a losing hand and make the decision to cut a deal.
That's what McConnell did this week when he sat down with his Democratic counterpart, the equally unlovable Harry Reid of Nevada, and struck a bargain to reopen the federal government and avert the danger of a default on the national debt.
“No one wants a default,” McConnell said. “So let's put this hysterical talk of default behind us and instead start talking about finding solutions.”
McConnell took a distinct political risk in agreeing to extend the federal debt ceiling until February with almost no strings attached. The Senate Conservatives Fund, a fundraising group that backs primary challenges to Republicans it deems insufficiently hard-line, denounced him for “negotiating surrender.” (This column won't do him much good either.) But McConnell could read the polls. The longer the government shutdown continued and the closer the nation came to a politically induced financial crisis, the more the GOP was losing.
And McConnell, a ferocious enforcer of discipline, knew he could deliver most of his party's votes. “There are few things more daunting in politics,” Sen. John McCain, R-Ariz., once said, “than the determined opposition of Sen. McConnell.” But whether a deal is done by the time you read this column doesn't depend on McConnell alone. His counterpart on the other side of Capitol Hill has a tougher job.