The Constitution gives us here in Congress a limited role. We cannot simply declare ourselves a national board of elections on steroids. The voters, … - Mitch McConnell

Madam President, on Saturday evening, a great loss echoed throughout our country. Six decades of patriotic service came to an end. We have suspected for some time that we would bid farewell to our colleague, the senior Senator from Arizona, John McCain. John took full advantage of the months since his diagnosis. His hard work continued, but happy reminiscing, fond farewells, final reflections, and time with family actually came to the fore. I was privileged to spend a small share of that time with John. We sat on his back porch in Sedona under the desert sky, replaying old times. John did things his way these last months. For his colleagues here, the time confirmed a sad but obvious truth: The Senate won't be the same without John McCain. I think it is fair to say that the passion John brought to his work was unsurpassed in this body. In more than 30 years as a Senator, he never failed to marshal a razor-sharp wit, a big heart, and, of course, a fiery spirit.

It takes one kind of heroism to undergo unimaginable pain and suffering as a POW but then persist in loyalty. It takes another kind of heroism to sustain that passion for decades more, to withstand the slings and arrows of politics, the compromises, the disappointments, the defeats, and yet still consider it a joy and an honor to serve. Few have either kind of heroism. John McCain had both. Fortunately, all that intensity came paired with a world-class sense of humor. As we all know, John really hated to lose. The line he used after his Presidential campaigns still makes me laugh. Some would ask how he was coping with defeat. John would say: "Actually, I'm sleeping like a baby. You know--I sleep for two hours, wake up, and cry." Seriously, it is hard to describe this larger-than-life figure without lapsing into what sound like cliches.

Allowing appropriate constitutional changes to pass through the Parliament would have represented a tangible demonstration of the Burmese Government's commitment to both political reform and to a freer and fairer election this November. But when the measures were put to a vote on June 25, the government's allies exercised the very undemocratic power the Constitution grants them to stymie the effort. So what kinds of messages do these actions send us? They bring the Burmese Government's continued commitment to democracy into question. If you were truly committed to democracy, why would you continue a provision like that, which to most of the world is simply quite laughable or outrageous? They also raise fundamental questions about the balloting this fall, increasing the prospect of an election being perceived as something other than the will of the people, even if its actual conduct proves to be free and fair. It is hard to see how that is in anybody's interest. The second deeply troubling consideration is the apparent widespread, if not universal, disenfranchisement of the Rohingya population. For all the ill treatment the Rohingya have had to endure in their history, at least they had once been able to vote and run for office in Burma. They voted and fielded a candidate for office in both the 2010 election and the 1990 election, but, alas, no more.