Congress shouldn't be a geriatric ward

"I wish [Feinstein] well in her health and her recovery," Pressley told GBH Radio. "But I do think that if it's impacting her ability to do the job, I would support a resignation."

Ocasio-Cortez didn't bother to feign concern for Feinstein's well-being. "[Her] refusal to either retire or show up is causing great harm to the judiciary," the congresswoman snapped on social media. "That failure means now in this precious window Dems can only pass GOP-approved nominees."

On Friday, The New York Times piled on. "If [Feinstein] cannot fulfill her obligations to the Senate and to her constituents, she should resign and turn over her responsibilities to an appointed successor," the paper editorialized.

What motivates the Feinstein-should-resign chorus is not the welfare of the Senate's oldest member; it's that her absence from the Senate Judiciary Committee is preventing Democrats from confirming a handful of President Biden's judicial nominees. If the Senate's Democratic majority were larger, Feinstein's absence wouldn't impede her party's agenda and no one would be clamoring for her to step down. But with the Senate so closely divided, things are different. In her absence, the Judiciary Committee has an equal number of Democrats and Republicans, meaning that Biden's nominees cannot move forward without at least some GOP support.

To be clear, judicial confirmations haven't screeched to a halt. Since Feinstein has been away, 21 judges have been confirmed by the Senate and eight nominees have advanced from the Judiciary Committee to the full Senate. It is only a few controversial nominations that have been stalled because Democrats can't muster the votes to advance them.

That said, Feinstein should step down. No one of her advanced years and obvious physical and mental decline should be holding a high government position.

The New Yorker reported in 2020 that the California senator was "seriously struggling" with memory failure. The article described a hearing during which Feinstein had repeated a detailed question to a witness word for word, apparently unaware that she had just asked it. More than a year ago, The San Francisco Chronicle described instances in which Feinstein, meeting with a lawmaker she had worked with for many years, had to repeatedly be reintroduced to the person.

"Four US senators, including three Democrats, as well as three former Feinstein staffers and [a member of California's congressional delegation] told The Chronicle in recent interviews that her memory is rapidly deteriorating," the paper noted. "They said it appears she can no longer fulfill her job duties without her staff doing much of the work required."

Feinstein isn't the only superannuated member of Congress. Senator Chuck Grassley of Iowa is 89 and four representatives — Grace Napolitano of California, Eleanor Holmes Norton of the District of Columbia, Harold Rogers of Kentucky, and Bill Pascrell of New Jersey — are 85 or older. To be sure, some people are blessed to reach extreme old age without suffering significant intellectual or bodily impairment. But that isn't the norm. And it isn't fair to the public when lawmakers — or, for that matter, presidents and judges — insist on clinging to office when they are no longer up to the job.

But cling they do, protected by a Washington culture that privileges political insiders' egos above the nation's best interests.

In a very early column for the Globe, I wrote about an impressive young Republican candidate who was waging a quixotic challenge to J. Joseph Moakley, the long-serving congressman from Boston. I mentioned in passing that Moakley, who was first elected to office in his 20s, was nearing 70 "and his health is poor." The day after the column appeared, Moakley showed up at the Globe offices in Dorchester and proceeded to berate me for those words. My praise for his campaign opponent didn't concern him but he was outraged by my pointing out that his physical condition was worsening.

The more Moakley declined, the more he denied it. When he was spotted a few months later hobbling with a cane, he insisted he had no problems save for a touch of arthritis. "Christ, they've got me in O'Brien's already," he fumed, referring to a South Boston funeral home. "How many times can I tell people . . . my overall health is fine?" Three months after that, gaunt and in pain, Moakley was in a Virginia hospital having his liver removed.

Eventually it seemed to dawn on Moakley that there might be more to life than nonstop politics. He called a press conference to announce that, after 24 years in Washington, he was retiring. But he couldn't do it. In a weird, sad performance, rambling incoherently on live television, Moakley declared that he would run again for Congress after all. "Outside of my wife," he said, "it's my only love."

The annals of government are filled with examples of men and women who grew so addicted to power and its perquisites that they couldn't bear the thought of voluntarily relinquishing them. Senator Ted Kennedy refused to resign his seat in Congress even after he had been diagnosed with brain cancer and it was clear he would not be returning to Capitol Hill. The same fatal disease struck Senator John McCain, who likewise clung to his position, even though it deprived his state of a functioning senator for more than eight months.

In July 2005, former chief justice William Rehnquist, saying he wanted "to put to rest the speculation and unfounded rumors of my imminent retirement," announced that he had no intention of resigning from the Supreme Court. Though illness was destroying him and he had to miss dozens of oral arguments, he remained on the court until his death. So did Justice Ruth Bader Ginsburg, who ignored pleas to retire, even as age and repeated bouts of cancer took their toll.

It's a very old story, this hanging onto political office by men and women who are too old and/or sick to do their work. Why do Americans tolerate it? The government of the United States is too important to be left to politicians whose memories are failing and whose bodies are breaking down. When lawmakers, justices, and presidents cannot keep up with the job they were elected or appointed to, they ought to have the integrity to bow out. Their job, after all, doesn't belong to them. It belongs to us.

Jeff Jacoby is a columnist for The Boston Globe, from which this is reprinted with permission."