John McCain's war record as an American hero was never in doubt. The handsome young Naval cadet who fought with bravery in Hanoi endured situations that few of us could imagine, and none of us that haven't lived it can say how we would have reacted. Trapped for five-and-a-half years in North Vietnam as a POW, his faith, endurance, and humanity were tested in ways that are unfathomable to your average human being, and his war record can never be besmirched. Even his most ardent of critics cannot deny he showed immense courage, and that his war record was unimpeachable.
If it had just ended there, John McCain's death today would be one of a series of small newspaper articles, likely a few statements from politicians who knew his father at the time, and he'd probably get acknowledged as a footnote obituary in The New York Times as a once-famous man who gave more for his country than most of its citizenry could comprehend. But John McCain's death will make national headlines tomorrow not because he was a war hero, but because for the past four past decades he has been one of the most important figures in American politics, and as a result it is not his daring legacy in Vietnam that will be the most lasting aspect of McCain's life, but instead the 35 years he spent as a member of the US Congress, first as a congressman from Arizona's 1st district, then as a senator since 1987.
I have written in the past that I am not someone who wishes to sugar-coat the legacies of the dead, even if I wish them peace in the great beyond and their family solace and understanding in this life, and I'm not going to do that for John McCain. Sen. McCain's war record is easy to recognize, and you'll hear a lot of people stick to that script while perhaps glossing over aspects of his life. I've seen die-hard liberals quick to hand out condolences and compliments to McCain, and it's worth noting that these are not without merit. John McCain was not a politician it was easy to dislike. He seemed like an amiable man, enjoying close across-the-aisle friendships with people like Barack Obama and Hillary Clinton even as he campaigned against them, and he was famously a "maverick," someone who would frustrate both sides of the aisle with his whims. A recent vote to save the Affordable Care Act, something that shocked Mitch McConnell and angered Donald Trump, is just one moment of many where McCain put his own principles before the needs of his party.
But John McCain's legacy is not a sunny one, and it's impossible for me to say unequivocally that he was a good man when he also left behind a legacy of backing bigoted causes while in Congress, particularly in the realm of LGBT rights. John McCain stood against gay marriage, publicly backing the 2006 bill to ban gay marriage in Arizona, and in 2008 said that he did not back gay adoption. While his fellow Republicans like Susan Collins, Richard Burr, and Jeff Flake in 2010 voted to overturn Don't-Ask-Don't-Tell, John McCain couldn't do it, instead continuing to back a bill that forced his fellow soldiers into the closet, into oppression and isolation.
As a result, it is hard for me to grasp the universal praise of John McCain. I know how Washington and the world works, so I know it's coming and see it even from people I admire. I know in death we are supposed to remember the good and dismiss the bad, but I have known too many soldiers haunted by being kicked out of the army despite their bravery because of whom they loved. McCain's legacy is filled with such votes, some of which he has apologized for (his objection to MLK Day, his support of the Iraq War) and others of which he stood behind until his death, and I cannot state that I agree with the universal adoration that is sure to come his way in the next few days. John McCain is a hero and a patriot, to be sure, but he's also a man who left permanent scars on a community that is too used to being ignored and who will likely be asked in the next few days to put their own grievances and valid criticisms of the senator's public contributions aside so that those in power can show deference to a man of enormous impact on the American political landscape. I will understand this unequivocal praise even if I realize in the quickness of some Democrats to support it (Sen. Schumer reportedly wants to rename the Russell Building in McCain's honor), they are showing a callousness to the people that John McCain dismissed as "not worthy" of political capital during his lifetime. In many ways it feels less like they are mourning him as a man and instead mourning an era where Republicans and Democrats could be friends and support good ideas on the other side of the aisle without it costing them in a primary...indeed, John McCain is the last legacy of such an era as Donald Trump becomes the looming face of a party that once chose the Arizona senator as their nominee for president. But John McCain's votes in life cannot be ignored, and I urge politicians that celebrate his career today to remember that history is unkind, and doesn't have time for details. In the same way that Lyndon Johnson's work on Civil Rights is overshadowed by his support for the Vietnam War and Ronald Reagan's legacy of "Morning in America" is tarnished by the cruel treatment of the poor in his economic policies, as well as his ignorance of the AIDS crisis, John McCain's legacy will always have a stain as a result of his anti-gay stances in life. I suspect that a man as storied as McCain wouldn't appreciate such a legacy, but bravery takes many shapes in our lives, something we can see clearly in comparing the records of John McCain the War Hero and John McCain the Politician.
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