The truth is, I don't know, and neither do you

Like nearly every single person in America, I do not know whether Christine Blasey Ford is telling the truth about an alleged sexual assault by Supreme Court nominee Brett Kavanaugh. I do not know whether Kavanaugh is telling the truth when he categorically denies the accusations. Many people say they are certain, one way or the other, but their firm beliefs are only opinions. They do not know whether their belief is factually accurate.

That said, I am bothered by the accusations against Kavanaugh. They are either deeply disturbing peeks at some well-hidden character flaws or desperate attempts at character assassination. I don't know which is the correct judgment.

I am bothered by the lateness of the allegations, and the handling of Blasey Ford's accusation by Sen. Diane Feinstein. The timing, if not the accusations themselves, seems to be aimed at postponing Senate confirmation of Kavanaugh. The GOP, on the other hand, has been too eager to push the confirmation through before mid-term elections, which might make a Senatae confirmation more difficult. After the Senate Judiciary Committee held a week of hearings on the Kavanaugh nomination, the accusations of a 35-year-old sexual assault were tossed into the nomination process.

A great many women have come forward to say they believe Blasey Ford, but their confidence is based on their belief that women are frequently abused by powerful men. They do not have first-hand knowledge of the alleged incident at a teenagers' house party. Their cry of "Believe the Women" has been invoked as an axiom for sexual assault cases, and in the "Me Too" era of revelations of sexual misconduct that can even turn "America's Dad," Bill Cosby, into a perverted criminal, that mantra makes some sense. However, that mantra should be used carefully. Thirty years ago, advocates were urging America to "Believe the Children," who allegedly had been sexually abused in several day-care scandals across the country. The children offered details and seemed certain in their testimony. Day Care owners were convicted by juries who "believed the children," although the children had also testified to trips to outer space, savage murders of children at the day cares and "secret rooms" where abuse took place — none of which was true.

Politically speaking, ignoring for the moment the accusations of misconduct, I worry about confirming Kavanaugh to the Supreme Court. Although he was typically coy in responding to questions about judicial issues, Kavanaugh seems to be a proponent of nearly unlimited executive power. He doesn't seem bothered by assertions of presidential powers that are not mentioned in the Constitution and which seem to usurp Congress' legislative powers. If I were a senator, I would probably lean toward denying Kavanaugh's confirmation, not based on his personal conduct but on his judicial philosophy.

This week's upheaval in the Senate Judiciary Committee is a symptom of a wrecked confirmation process for federal judges. The Founding Fathers tried to insulate the judiciary process from politics, but the courts have grown more and more political over the past 30 years, and so has the confirmation process. We assume, even before a the nomination process begins, that the confirmation vote will be decided along party lines. That is not what the Founding Fathers intended, nor has it always been this way.

Many will point to the divisive 1991 hearings on nominee Clarence Thomas as a turning point in politicization of the judiciary, but I think the genesis of this new era was the 1987 Robert Bork hearings. Before the confirmation hearings began, Sen. Ted Kennedy proclaimed, "Robert Bork’s America is a land in which women would be forced into back-alley abortions, blacks would sit at segregated lunch counters, rogue police could break down citizens’ doors in midnight raids, and schoolchildren could not be taught about evolution, writers and artists could be censored at the whim of government, and the doors of the federal courts would be shut on the fingers of millions of Americans.”

Ted Kennedy was a smart, experienced senator. He knew very well that putting Bork on the Supreme Court would not — could not — bring about the nightmares he claimed. He also knew that Bork could be rejected if a grassroots hysteria succeeded in turning Bork into a pariah. Democrats organized opposition to Bork and succeeded in denying him a seat on the highest court. A new word was coined. He was "borked."

Since that time, most Supreme Court nominations have been political contests similar to elections. The Republican Party has even made the Supreme Court a key issue in presidential races and has allowed the refusal of the Senate GOP leadership to even acknowledge a legitimate nomination to the court by a Democratic president.

The courts, intended to be a sort of final arbiter of conflicts between the executive and legislative branches, has become too much a child of political confrontation. The Senate's duty is to "advise and consent" on judicial nominations, not connive for political advantage.