We’ve been talking quite a bit, obviously, about Bush commuting Scooter Libby’s sentence, but I wanted to take a moment to step back and consider a basic point that isn’t getting a lot of attention.
The president this morning said he took this action because the sentence (30 months behind bars) was “severe.” Yesterday, in his official statement, Bush was more specific.
Mr. Libby was sentenced to thirty months of prison, two years of probation, and a $250,000 fine. In making the sentencing decision, the district court rejected the advice of the probation office, which recommended a lesser sentence and the consideration of factors that could have led to a sentence of home confinement or probation.
I respect the jury’s verdict. But I have concluded that the prison sentence given to Mr. Libby is excessive.
Now, Bush brings up the probation office that recommended a lesser sentence. Is that true? Actually, yes — it recommended 15 to 21 months for Libby, but he was sentenced to 30. In this sense, Libby’s court-imposed punishment was harsher than what the probation office advised, though it was far less harsh than it could have been under federal sentencing guidelines.
But therein lies the point. Bush is now arguing that he intervened because the incarceration period was too long. What’s the appropriate incarceration period? The president substituted his judgment for the judiciary’s and came up with a number: zero.
As Christopher Orr put it, “Bush doesn’t merely find 30 months excessive, he finds 15 to 21 months excessive, too. Or six months, or one month, or a single day behind bars. Bush could have commuted the sentence to any of these shorter durations if he truly felt the sentence was too long; instead he willed it away altogether.”
And now the White House is rationalizing its conduct by saying Bush had to intervene because the court’s sentence was excessive. Tony Snow even suggested that the commutation is in line with the probation office, which is transparently ridiculous.
The discussion about whether the sentence was “severe” or not therefore becomes practically silly. Libby was convicted of multiple felonies, he was sentenced to jail by multiple Republican-appointed federal judges, and Bush didn’t care. Whether the sentence was 30 months, 30 years, or 30 minutes is entirely irrelevant. There’s no point in even debating the “severity” of the sentence.
The other big-picture point I wanted to emphasize is that this is a unique controversy — the president commuted the sentence of a felon whose crime directly involves the president and his White House.
Indeed, if there’s been a cover-up, and there’s ample reason to believe there has been a cover-up, the commutation isn’t a new outrage; it’s just a continuation of the same outrage. One could even make the case that the commutation itself represents an obstruction of justice, because it’s likely intended to shield the president himself from additional scrutiny about criminal conduct that we already know took place at this White House.
Joe Wilson argues:
“From my viewpoint, the president has stepped in to short circuit the rule of law and the system of justice in our country. In so doing, he has acknowledged Mr. Libby’s guilt for, among other things, obstruction of justice, which by definition is covering up for somebody in a crime. By commuting his sentence, he has brought himself and his office into reasonable suspicion of participation in an obstruction of justice. The commutation of (Libby’s) sentence in and of itself is participation in obstruction of justice.”
I generally shy away from impeachment talk, but when the high crime fits….