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Poll Driven WH--no consideration of policy--full Esquire
Letter
Esquire.com
By Ron Suskind
EX-BUSH ADMINISTRATION OFFICIAL TELLS ESQUIRE:
NO SERIOUS CONSIDERATION GIVEN
TO DOMESTIC POLICY IN WHITE HOUSE AT ALL
"It's the reign of the Mayberry Machiavellis"
[page 1--Excerpts]
In Pulitzer-Prize winning author Ron Suskind's second
significant examination of the workings of the Bush White House
for Esquire, respected former domestic policy adviser John
DiIulio speaks out for the first time since leaving the White
House. DiIulio, along with several current White House officials,
offers a stunning appraisal of the administration, especially
regarding the utter dominance of Karl Rove's political office on
all domestic policy matters. Following are excerpts from
Suskind's "Why Are These Men Laughing?" in the January 2003
Esquire:
* "There is no precedent in any modern White
House for what is going on in this one: a complete lack of a
policy apparatus," DiIulio tells Esquire. "What you've got is
everything—and I mean everything—being run by the
political arm. It's the reign of the Mayberry Machiavellis."
* A current senior White House official:
"Many of us feel it's our duty—our obligation as
Americans—to get the word out that, certainly in domestic
policy, there has been almost no meaningful consideration of any
real issues. It's just kids on Big Wheels, who talk politics and
know nothing. It's depressing. DPC [Domestic Policy Council]
meetings are a farce."
* Senior White House official: "Don't you
understand?…We got into the White House and forfeited the
game. You're supposed to stand for something . . . to generate
sound ideas, support them with real evidence, and present them to
Congress and the people. We didn't do any of that. We just danced
this way and that on minute political calculations and whatever
was needed for a few paragraphs of a speech."
* DiIulio: "Besides the tax cut…. the
administration has not done much, either in absolute terms or in
comparison to previous administrations at this stage, on domestic
policy. There is a virtual absence as yet of any policy
accomplishments that might, to a fair-minded non-partisan, count
as the flesh on the bones of so-called compassionate
conservatism."
* Another senior White House official: "The
view of many people [in the White House] is that the best
government can do is simply do no harm, that it never is an agent
for positive change. If that's your position, why bother to
understand what programs actually do?"
* DiIulio: "Karl is enormously powerful,
maybe the single most powerful person in the modern, post-Hoover
era ever to occupy a political advisor post near the Oval
Office."
* DiIulio: "When policy analysis is just
backfill, to back up a political maneuver, you'll get a lot of
oops."
Suskind's previous article on the Bush White House, for
Esquire's July 2002 issue, "Mrs. Hughes Takes Her Leave,"
revealed an administration reeling from the departure of senior
aide Karen Hughes and anticipating the ascendancy of Rove. White
House Chief of Staff Andrew Card told Suskind at that time, "I'll
need designees, people trusted by the president that I can
elevate for various needs to balance against Karl…. But it
won't be easy. Karl is a formidable adversary."
Suskind's new story takes a fresh look at the balance of power
in the White House, six months after Hughes' departure. DiIulio's
comments are rare, especially for this administration, because
they are both critical and on the record. He was appointed in
January 2001 to create the Office of Faith-Based and Community
Initiatives, which the president conceived as the cornerstone of
"compassionate conservatism." At the time, President Bush called
the University of Pennsylvania professor, author, and historian
"one of the most influential social entrepreneurs in
America."
[page 2-Forward and The Letter]
On October 24, John DiIulio, a former high-level official in
the Bush administration, sent the letter below to Esquire
Washington correspondent Ron Suskind. The letter was a key source
of Suskind's story about Karl Rove, politics and policymaking in
the Bush administration, "Why Are These Men Laughing," which
appears in the January 2003 issue of Esquire. On Monday, December
3, White House press secretary Ari Fleischer said that the
charges contained in the story were "groundless and baseless."
After initially standing by his assertions, DiIulio himself later
issued an "apology." Esquire stands strongly behind Suskind and
his important story.
CONFIDENTIAL
To: Ron Suskind
From: John DiIulio
Subject: Your next essay on the Bush administration
Date: October 24, 2002
Dear Ron:
For/On the Record
My perspective on the president and the administration
reflects both my experiences at the White House and my views as a
political scientist and policy scholar. Regarding the former, I
spent a couple one-on-one hours with then-Governor Bush during a
visit he made to Philadelphia a few months before the Republican
Convention there. I helped with certain campaign speeches and
with certain speeches once he became president. I spent time with
the president in briefings, in meetings with groups, and on
certain trips. I was there in the White House during the first
180 days. I was an Assistant to the President, and attended many,
though by no means all, senior staff meetings. I was not at all a
close "insider" but I was very much on the inside. I observed and
heard a great deal that concerned policy issues and political
matters well outside my own issue sets. Regarding the latter, I
have studied American government and public policy and
administration for over twenty years. I have worked and run
research programs at both liberal and conservative think tanks,
developed community programs through national non-profit groups,
and so forth.
In my view, President Bush is a highly admirable person of
enormous personal decency. He is a godly man and a moral leader.
He is much, much smarter than some people—including some of
his own supporters and advisers—seem to suppose. He
inspires personal trust, loyalty, and confidence in those around
him. In many ways, he is all heart. Clinton talked "I feel your
pain." But as Bush showed in the immediate aftermath of 9/11, he
truly does feel deeply for others and loves this country with a
passion.
The little things speak legions. Notice how he decided to let
the detainees come home from China and did not jump all over them
for media purposes. I could cite a dozen such examples of his
dignity and personal goodness. Or I recall how, in Philly,
following a 3-hour block party on July 4, 2001, following hours
among the children, youth, and families of prisoners, we were
running late for the next event. He stopped, however, to take a
picture with a couple of men who were cooking ribs all day.
"C'mon," he said, "those guys have been doing hard work all day
there." It's my favorite—and in some ways, my most
telling—picture of who he is as a man and a leader who pays
attention to the little things that convey respect and decency
toward others.
But the contrast with Clinton is two-sided. As Joe Klein has
so strongly captured him, Clinton was "the natural," a leader
with a genuine interest in the policy process who encouraged
information-rich decision-making. Clinton was the
policy-wonk-in-chief. The Clinton administration drowned in
policy intellectuals and teemed with knowledgeable people
interested in making government work. Every domestic issue drew
multiple policy analyses that certainly weighted politics, media
messages, legislative strategy, et cetera, but also strongly
weighted policy-relevant information, stimulated substantive
policy debate, and put a premium on policy knowledge. That is
simply not Bush's style. It fits not at all with his personal cum
presidential character. The Bush West Wing is very nearly at the
other end of this Clinton policy-making continuum.
Besides the tax cut, which was cut-and-dried during the
campaign, and the education bill, which was really a Ted Kennedy
bill, the administration has not done much, either in absolute
terms or in comparison to previous administrations at this stage,
on domestic policy. There is a virtual absence as yet of any
policy accomplishments that might, to a fair-minded non-partisan,
count as the flesh on the bones of so-called compassionate
conservatism. There is still two years, maybe six, for them to do
more and better on domestic policy, and, specifically, on the
compassion agenda. And, needless to say, 9/11, and now the global
war on terror and the new homeland and national security plans,
must be weighed in the balance.
But, as I think Andy Card himself told you in so many words,
even allowing for those huge contextual realities, they could
stand to find ways of inserting more serious policy fiber into
the West Wing diet, and engage much less in on-the-fly
policy-making by speech-making. They are almost to an individual
nice people, and there are among them several extremely gifted
persons who do indeed know—and care—a great deal
about actual policy-making, administrative reform, and so forth.
But they have been, for whatever reasons, organized in ways that
make it hard for policy-minded staff, including colleagues (even
secretaries) of cabinet agencies, to get much West Wing traction,
or even get a non-trivial hearing.
[page 2]
In this regard, at the six-month senior staff retreat on July
9, 2001, an explicit discussion ensued concerning how to emulate
more strongly the Clinton White House's press, communications,
and rapid-response media relations—how better to wage, if
you will, the permanent campaign that so defines the modern
presidency regardless of who or which party occupies the Oval
Office. I listened and was amazed. It wasn't more press,
communications, media, legislative strategizing, and such that
they needed. Maybe the Clinton people did that better, though,
surely, they were less disciplined about it and leaked more to
the media and so on. No, what they needed, I thought then and
still do now, was more policy-relevant information, discussion,
and deliberation.
In eight months, I heard many, many staff discussions, but not
three meaningful, substantive policy discussions. There were no
actual policy white papers on domestic issues. There were, truth
be told, only a couple of people in the West Wing who worried at
all about policy substance and analysis, and they were even more
overworked than the stereotypical, non-stop, 20-hour-a-day White
House staff. Every modern presidency moves on the fly, but, on
social policy and related issues, the lack of even basic policy
knowledge, and the only casual interest in knowing more, was
somewhat breathtaking—discussions by fairly senior people
who meant Medicaid but were talking Medicare; near-instant shifts
from discussing any actual policy pros and cons to discussing
political communications, media strategy, et cetera. Even quite
junior staff would sometimes hear quite senior staff pooh-pooh
any need to dig deeper for pertinent information on a given
issue.
Likewise, every administration at some point comes to think of
the White House as its own private tree house, to define itself
as "us" versus "them" on Capitol Hill, or in the media, or what
have you, and, before 100 days are out, to vest ever more
organizational and operational authority with the White House's
political, press, and communications people, both senior and
junior. I think, however, that the Bush
administration—maybe because they were coming off Florida
and the election controversy, maybe because they were so
unusually tight-knit and "Texas," maybe because the chief of
staff, Andy Card, was more a pure staff process than a staff
leader or policy person, or maybe for other reasons I can't
recognize—was far more inclined in that direction, and
became progressively more so as the months pre-9/11 wore on.
This gave rise to what you might call Mayberry
Machiavellis—staff, senior and junior, who consistently
talked and acted as if the height of political sophistication
consisted in reducing every issue to its simplest,
black-and-white terms for public consumption, then steering
legislative initiatives or policy proposals as far right as
possible. These folks have their predecessors in previous
administrations (left and right, Democrat and Republican), but,
in the Bush administration, they were particularly
unfettered.
I could cite a half-dozen examples, but, on the so-called
faith bill, they basically rejected any idea that the president's
best political interests—not to mention the best policy for
the country—could be served by letting centrist Senate
Democrats in on the issue, starting with a bipartisan effort to
review the implementation of the kindred law (called "charitable
choice") signed in 1996 by Clinton. For a fact, had they done
that, six months later they would have had a strongly bipartisan
copycat bill to extend that law. But, over-generalizing the
lesson from the politics of the tax cut bill, they winked at the
most far-right House Republicans who, in turn, drafted a
so-called faith bill (H.R. 7, the Community Solutions Act) that
(or so they thought) satisfied certain fundamentalist leaders and
beltway libertarians but bore few marks of "compassionate
conservatism" and was, as anybody could tell, an absolute
political non-starter. It could pass the House only on a virtual
party-line vote, and it could never pass the Senate, even before
Jeffords switched.
Not only that, but it reflected neither the president's own
previous rhetoric on the idea, nor any of the actual empirical
evidence that recommended policies promoting greater
public/private partnerships involving community-serving religious
organizations. I said so, wrote memos, and so on for the first
six weeks. But, hey, what's that fat, out-of-the-loop professor
guy know; besides, he says he'll be gone in six months. As one
senior staff member chided me at a meeting at which many junior
staff were present and all ears, "John, get a faith bill, any
faith bill." Like college students who fall for the colorful,
opinionated, but intellectually third-rate professor, you could
see these 20- and 30-something junior White House staff falling
for the Mayberry Machiavellis. It was all very disheartening to
this old, Madison-minded American government professor.
[page 3]
Madison aside, even Machiavelli might have a beef. The West
Wing staff actually believed that they could pass the flawed
bill, get it through conference, and get it to the president's
desk to sign by the summer. Instead, the president got a
political black eye when they could easily have handed him a big
bipartisan political victory. The best media events were always
the bipartisan ones anyway, like the president's visit to the
U.S. Mayors Conference in Detroit in June 2001. But my request to
have him go there was denied three times on the grounds that it
would "play badly" or "give the Democrat mayors a chance to bash
him on other issues." Nothing of the sort happened; it was a
great success, as was having Philly's black Democratic mayor,
John Street, in the gallery next to Mrs. Bush in February 2001 at
the president's first Budget Address. But they could not see it,
and instead went back to courting conservative religious leaders
and groups.
The "faith bill" saga also illustrates the relative lack of
substantive concern for policy and administration. I had to beg
to get a provision written into the executive orders that would
require us to conduct an actual information-gathering effort
related to the president's interest in the policy. With the
exception of some folks at OMB, nobody cared a fig about the
five-agency performance audit, and we got less staff help on it
than went into any two PR events or such. Now, of course, the
document the effort produced (Unlevel Playing Field) is cited all
the time, and frames the administrative reform agenda
that—or so the Mayberry Machiavellis had insisted—had
no value.
Even more revealing than what happened during the first 180
days is what did not, especially on the compassion agenda beyond
the faith bill and focusing on children. Remember "No child left
behind"? That was a Bush campaign slogan. I believe it was his
heart, too. But translating good impulses into good policy
proposals requires more than whatever somebody thinks up in the
eleventh hour before a speech is to be delivered, or whatever
symbolic politics plan—"communities of character" and
such—gets generated by the communications, political
strategy, and other political shops.
During the campaign, for instance, the president had mentioned
Medicaid explicitly as one program on which Washington might well
do more. I co-edited a whole (boring!) Brookings volume on
Medicaid; some people inside thought that universal health care
for children might be worth exploring, especially since, truth be
told, the existing laws take us right up to that policy border.
They could easily have gotten in behind some proposals to
implement existing Medicaid provisions that benefit low-income
children. They could have fashioned policies for the working
poor. The list is long. Long, and fairly complicated, especially
when—as they stipulated from the start—you want to
spend little or no new public money on social welfare, and you
have no real process for doing meaningful domestic policy
analysis and deliberation. It's easier in that case to forget
Medicaid refinements and react to calls for a "PBOR," patients'
bill of rights, or whatever else pops up.
Some are inclined to blame the high political-to-policy ratios
of this administration on Karl Rove. Some in the press view Karl
as some sort of prince of darkness; actually, he is basically a
nice and good-humored man. And some staff members, senior and
junior, are awed and cowed by Karl's real or perceived powers.
They self-censor lots for fear of upsetting him, and, in turn,
few of the president's top people routinely tell the president
what they really think if they think that Karl will be brought up
short in the bargain. Karl is enormously powerful, maybe the
single most powerful person in the modern, post-Hoover era ever
to occupy a political advisor post near the Oval Office. The
Republican base constituencies, including beltway libertarian
policy elites and religious right leaders, trust him to keep Bush
"43" from behaving like Bush "41" and moving too far to the
center or inching at all center-left. Their shared fiction,
supported by zero empirical electoral studies, is that "41" lost
in '92 because he lost these right-wing fans. There are not ten
House districts in America where either the libertarian litany or
the right-wing religious policy creed would draw majority popular
approval, and, most studies suggest, Bush "43" could have done
better versus Gore had he stayed more centrist, but, anyway, the
fiction is enshrined as fact. Little happens on any issue without
Karl's okay, and, often, he supplies such policy substance as the
administration puts out. Fortunately, he is not just a largely
self-taught, hyper-political guy, but also a very well informed
guy when it comes to certain domestic issues. (Whether, as some
now assert, he even has such sway in national security, homeland
security, and foreign affairs, I cannot say.)
[page 4]
Karl was at his political and policy best, I think, in
steering the president's stem-cell research decision, as was the
president himself, who really took this issue on board with an
unusual depth of reading, reflection, and staff deliberation.
Personally, I would have favored a position closer to the
Catholic Church's on the issue, but this was one instance where
the administration really took pains with both politics and
policy, invited real substantive knowledge into the process, and
so forth. It was almost as if it took the most highly charged
political issue of its kind to force them to take policy-relevant
knowledge seriously, to have genuine deliberation.
Contrast that, however, with the remarkably slap-dash
character of the Office of Homeland Security,
with the nine months of arguing that no department was needed,
with the sudden, politically-timed reversal in June, and
with the fact that not even that issue, the most significant
reorganization of the federal government since the creation of
the Department of Defense, has received more than talking-points
caliber deliberation. This was, in a sense, the administration
problem in miniature: Ridge was the decent fellow at the top, but
nobody spent the time to understand that an EOP entity without
budgetary or statutory authority can't "coordinate" over 100
separate federal units, no matter how personally close to the
president its leader is, no matter how morally right they feel
the mission is, and no matter how inconvenient the politics of
telling certain House Republican leaders we need a big new
federal bureaucracy might be.
The good news, however, is that the fundamentals are pretty
good—the president's character and heart, the decent,
well-meaning people on staff, Karl's wonkish alter-ego, and the
fact that, a year after 9/11 and with a White House that can find
time enough to raise $140 million for campaigns, it's becoming
fair to ask, on domestic policy and compassionate conservatism,
"Where's the beef?"
Whether because they will eventually be forced to defend the
president's now thin record on domestic policy and virtually
empty record on compassionate conservatism, or for other reasons,
I believe that the best may well be yet to come from the Bush
administration. But, in my view, they will not get there without
some significant reforms to the policy-lite inter-personal and
organizational dynamics of the place.
Shalom,
John
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