American Studies (28 page)
Authors: Louis Menand
Wilber uses the term “postmodernism” to refer to the rejection of the claim that science is value-free and objective. He thinks the basic impulse of postmodernism is right, but that postmodernists have gone too far, and have produced a flatland of their own. Modernists reduced the universe to external facts, he explains; postmodernists reduce it to representations, to “chains of signifiers.” They, too, deny the universe depth and meaning. The good news, however, is that cutting-edge science does reveal the presence of spirit in the universe, and this is evidently what has stirred the vice president. When Gore says that we are entering the “post-postmodernist era,” he means that we can now set about reintegrating science and religion, and so put meaning back into our lives.
This brings us to the goo-goo. Goo-goo is shorthand for “good government,” and Gore’s chief assignment in the first Clinton administration was the task of “reinventing government,” a mission launched under the acronym REGO. Gore reportedly had asked to take charge of welfare reform, a politically more promising agenda, but the Clintons wanted that for themselves (it eventually went, by default, to Newt Gingrich), and Gore ended up with the less galvanizing project of making government more efficient. He set about it
with due deliberation, however, and in many ways REGO has come to represent the essence of his philosophy of government.
with due deliberation, however, and in many ways REGO has come to represent the essence of his philosophy of government.
Prosaic as it sounds, reinventing government is the crucial element in the Clinton-Gore plan to restore the Democratic Party. Americans are cynical about government programs, they believe, because government agencies have become monsters of bureaucratic rigidity and inefficiency, socialist dinosaurs in an entrepreneurial society. To the extent that the Democratic Party stands for the virtue of public works, Clinton and Gore had to show that public works work. They had to make government, as a branch of the service economy, deliver. This was to be their answer to Republican antigovernment rhetoric, and their ticket to long-term electoral success. (This is why one hears so much about the Family and Medical Leave Act, which Gore was closely involved with, even though the law is now more than five years old, and even though it is a “government program” only in a metaphysical sense, since it involves no state expenditures: it is an easily understood and popular example of friendly government.)
In enacting REGO, Gore followed the policy bible of the movement, David Osborne and Ted Gaebler’s
Reinventing
Government: How
the Entrepreneurial Spirit Is Transforming the Public Sector
(1992), which has enjoyed a large influence among New Democrats, but his own thinking on the subject is, as one might expect, more philosophically expansive. It springs from the unlikely marriage of business management theory and the Federalist Papers. In Gore’s REGO, James Madison meets Peter Drucker.
Reinventing
Government: How
the Entrepreneurial Spirit Is Transforming the Public Sector
(1992), which has enjoyed a large influence among New Democrats, but his own thinking on the subject is, as one might expect, more philosophically expansive. It springs from the unlikely marriage of business management theory and the Federalist Papers. In Gore’s REGO, James Madison meets Peter Drucker.
The advertised purpose of REGO is to cut waste and to downsize the workforce, and to some extent these goals are being met. The Department of Agriculture’s wool-and-mohair subsidy, for example, has now been eliminated! (“The subsidy is no longer needed, since wool is no longer a strategic commodity,” the official report solemnly notes.) And the federal workforce has been reduced by 351,000 employees, making it the smallest since the Kennedy administration. But Gore’s ambition is more far-reaching. It is to redesign the government workplace. It’s all a matter of, as he likes to put it, the “information flow.”
Gore’s thinking about information derives from Toffler’s work. (He was an early enthusiast of the author of Future Shock.) But his blueprint for the new workplace is the United States Constitution. The Constitution was designed, he explained to me, to maximize individual contributions to the business of self-government while minimizing the tendencies toward a war of all against all based on selfish interests. Representative democracy achieves this goal (this is Madison’s argument in Federalist No. 10) by establishing mediating institutions, like the Congress, which allow representatives to resolve political disputes with an eye to the good of the whole while remaining responsive to local interests. “You could see our Constitution as a kind of software,” he suggested (Gore, not Madison). It channels “the flow of insights from individual American citizens toward a system for collecting the ones that have the most inherent value, according to a democratic vote, and then basing the decisions of the country on what results.”
Business management theory, Gore said, has finally caught up to this eighteenth-century insight (and here the slowness dial received an extra twist): “Just as our Founders labored to write a constitution that would take advantage of that insight by embedding it in an architecture that would make the most productive use of those things,” cutting-edge managers “now try to set up systems that convince their employees that their insights are highly valued, encourage them to pay attention to what they’re doing, holistically, encourage them to see the connections between what they’re doing and the overall goals of the organization, and then they set up systems for collecting those insights, editing them, discarding the ones that don’t make any sense, and implementing the ones that are good.” In REGO, this theory produced the “reinvention lab,” in which government employees are free to come up with ways to streamline their agency’s delivery of services.
In a commencement address at MIT two years ago, Gore had used a different analogy. “The first computers,” he explained to the graduates, “relied on a central processing unit surrounded by a field of memory. To find the right answer to a particular problem, the C.P.U. would send out to the memory to retrieve data, then bring it
to the center for processing.” This was inefficient. Then came the breakthrough known as “distributive intelligence,” which distributes the processing function throughout the memory field, “in the form of smaller, separate processors, each co-located with the memory it processes.” Now, when you ask a computer to perform a task, “all of the processors begin to work simultaneously and process a small quantity of information. Then all of the separate parts of the answer are sent simultaneously to the center where they are assembled. One trip. Less time and heat.” (Just like Congress?)
to the center for processing.” This was inefficient. Then came the breakthrough known as “distributive intelligence,” which distributes the processing function throughout the memory field, “in the form of smaller, separate processors, each co-located with the memory it processes.” Now, when you ask a computer to perform a task, “all of the processors begin to work simultaneously and process a small quantity of information. Then all of the separate parts of the answer are sent simultaneously to the center where they are assembled. One trip. Less time and heat.” (Just like Congress?)
It would not be too much to say that Gore is in love with this metaphor. He believes that it explains the superiority of constitutional democracies over centralized state systems, and the superiority of free markets over command-control economies. It is a market theory of society: if all the little decisions are processed correctly, an invisible hand will guide the progress of the whole. You could sum it up as classical liberal holism: what is optimal for one must be optimal for all. This conception of decision-making is one reason the vice president is such a fan of the Internet: it democratizes the flow of information.
Who are the enemies of such an approach? I asked, still eager, in my retrograde way, to uncover conflict. “Anything that interrupts the smooth operations of that organization,” Gore answered. “The level of cynicism that we talked about earlier is an enemy of the country’s ability to succeed because it disrupts the flow of ideas and pollutes the debate over genuine difference into a contest of demonization aimed at those who hold particular views.” As Madison had argued, he said, “differences of mere opinion” can be a cause of social disintegration, when “people focus only on the differences and demonize those who disagree with them.”
Gore stood up. We had barely scratched the surface, he said; he regretted not having more time—though we had talked uninterrupted for an hour. Back outside, in the reception area, members of the Congressional Black Caucus were filing out of the Oval Office; a group of Russians was filing in, all looking desperately in need of a cigarette. I left the White House grounds through the Northwest Gate, with its now unforgettable associations—this is where Monica
Lewinsky threw a fit in front of the Secret Service after learning that the Big Creep was entertaining Eleanor Mondale in the Oval Office, that two-timer!—and suddenly the administration’s problems began to seem a lot less metaphysical.
Lewinsky threw a fit in front of the Secret Service after learning that the Big Creep was entertaining Eleanor Mondale in the Oval Office, that two-timer!—and suddenly the administration’s problems began to seem a lot less metaphysical.
Although Gore has yoked himself to Clinton—“I have been by his side every step of the way,” he proudly told Richard Berke, of the
New York Times
, last December—he has by far the more conservative instincts. In 1988, when the cold war was still on, he ran as the most hawkish of the Democratic candidates, and it is worth remembering that the Willie Horton issue, which came to symbolize the debacle of the Dukakis presidential campaign, was first broached, during the primaries, by Gore. (Gore raised the question of Massachusetts’s prison furlough policy; the Bush campaign racialized the issue. The despicable campaigns run by Lee Atwater and James Baker in 1988 and by Baker again in 1992, when the Bush campaign tried to make it seem that Clinton was a traitor because he had gone to Moscow as a student in 1969, arguably bear a lot more responsibility for the degradation of national politics than Watergate. Nixon, after all, was punished.)
New York Times
, last December—he has by far the more conservative instincts. In 1988, when the cold war was still on, he ran as the most hawkish of the Democratic candidates, and it is worth remembering that the Willie Horton issue, which came to symbolize the debacle of the Dukakis presidential campaign, was first broached, during the primaries, by Gore. (Gore raised the question of Massachusetts’s prison furlough policy; the Bush campaign racialized the issue. The despicable campaigns run by Lee Atwater and James Baker in 1988 and by Baker again in 1992, when the Bush campaign tried to make it seem that Clinton was a traitor because he had gone to Moscow as a student in 1969, arguably bear a lot more responsibility for the degradation of national politics than Watergate. Nixon, after all, was punished.)
In the administration, Gore has been alert to prevent Clinton from veering too far to the left. The Clinton presidency began by impersonating the Democratic Party it was supposed to have displaced. It proposed policies (gays in the military, a fiscal stimulus package) and programs (health care reform) that are associated with a big and activist government, and the party was clobbered in the 1994 midterm elections. After the deluge, Gore reportedly was instrumental in getting Clinton back on the New Democrat platform of smaller, more decentralized, more entrepreneurial government—Government Lite. And in the summer of 1996, when the Republican Congress passed welfare reform legislation, with the notion that Clinton, under pressure from his electoral base, would veto it and hand Bob Dole a potentially winning issue in the presidential campaign, Gore is said to have urged Clinton to sign the bill. He did,
and robbed Dole of every issue save one that he could hardly bring himself to raise—character.
and robbed Dole of every issue save one that he could hardly bring himself to raise—character.
But then Gore seems to have made a mistake. When it became clear, in the final weeks, that Dole could not win, Clinton had a choice of continuing to campaign for the national ticket, in the hope of winning a majority of the popular vote, or of campaigning instead for Democrats in local House races, in the hope of regaining the House. He decided to push up his own numbers. Clinton and Gore fell short of 50 percent in the popular vote, in part because the news of the Indonesian connection (remember that one?) dominated the news just before the election; and the Democrats fell short of retaking the House. As a consequence, Clinton faces impeachment proceedings in a House controlled by the rival party. According to Elizabeth Drew’s book on the 1996 election,
Whatever It Takes
, Gore was one of the people behind the decision not to campaign in the House races. He apparently did not want his most likely primary rival in 2000, Dick Gephardt, to become the Speaker (a motive not entirely consistent with the ambition to restore the Democratic Party to dominance). The Democrats have another shot at the House this fall, but unless Clinton can perform political jujitsu on his opponents (which is not inconceivable; Clinton is a man who is lucky in his enemies), it is probably too late.
Whatever It Takes
, Gore was one of the people behind the decision not to campaign in the House races. He apparently did not want his most likely primary rival in 2000, Dick Gephardt, to become the Speaker (a motive not entirely consistent with the ambition to restore the Democratic Party to dominance). The Democrats have another shot at the House this fall, but unless Clinton can perform political jujitsu on his opponents (which is not inconceivable; Clinton is a man who is lucky in his enemies), it is probably too late.
A Republican Congress will be able to drag out impeachment hearings well into next year—a year that was to have been Gore’s chance to perform in more of the spotlight. There is also, of course, the impending investigation into the Democrats’ fund-raising practices in the 1996 campaign, which will almost certainly look at Gore’s role. And then there is the personality issue. Clinton’s electoral success is due in part to his centrist politics, but in part to sheer salesmanship. Whenever he can get his face in front of the camera, his approval ratings go up. Gore does not have this particular magic. His charisma emission levels are unusually low.
Gore is more sophisticated about the media than his public style suggests. He wrote his senior thesis at Harvard on the impact of television on the presidency, concluding that because television loves one face over many faces its effect has been to increase the
president’s political power at the expense of Congress’s. In his conversation with me, he described (using what he referred to, with obvious satisfaction, as an “arcane metaphor” involving the religions of India) the difficulty of conducting the business of government in a televisual culture. But understanding the problem has not helped him solve it. He continues to look programmed in a medium in which everyone is programmed not to look programmed. Still, there is one fundamental rule in electoral politics: somebody has to beat you. It will be hard for a candidate to get noticeably to Gore’s right without looking like an extremist. And, to the extent that the electorate is fed up with Clinton, Gore will profit by the stylistic contrast. After Elvis came the Beatles. (Also, it’s true, the Monkees.)
president’s political power at the expense of Congress’s. In his conversation with me, he described (using what he referred to, with obvious satisfaction, as an “arcane metaphor” involving the religions of India) the difficulty of conducting the business of government in a televisual culture. But understanding the problem has not helped him solve it. He continues to look programmed in a medium in which everyone is programmed not to look programmed. Still, there is one fundamental rule in electoral politics: somebody has to beat you. It will be hard for a candidate to get noticeably to Gore’s right without looking like an extremist. And, to the extent that the electorate is fed up with Clinton, Gore will profit by the stylistic contrast. After Elvis came the Beatles. (Also, it’s true, the Monkees.)
But can Gore campaign on a platform of nonhierarchical management structures and access to the information flow? The old Democratic Party was defined by its interest groups. The new Democratic Party of Clinton and Gore is supposed to be defined by its transcendence of interest group politics. Cooperative government is the ideal. Can you win elections by appealing to a constituency of the whole? Gore has been careful to preserve his connections with traditional Democratic constituencies. He is, for example, a fervent supporter of affirmative action. “Don’t tell me that our persistent vulnerability to racism has suddenly disappeared, and that we now live in a color-blind society,” he said in a sermonesque address to the NAACP last July “We’ve left Egypt, but don’t tell me we’ve arrived in Canaan.” When he gets down to policy, though, he sticks to the Government Lite formula. In the same speech, he proposed using “voluntary tools, such as charter schools, magnet schools, and public school choice to seek more diversity,” and spoke proudly of the administration’s “E-rate” initiative—a special rate, offered to poor school districts, for connection to the Internet. This is not the language of Roosevelt.
But it is a mistake to assume that it is not interest group politics. Policies like those are aimed directly at a specific constituency: the so-called wired workers, people who use computers on the job, work in nonhierarchical organizations, and practice on-the-job problem solving—Gore’s cyber-Madisonians. According to an analysis
by Elaine Kamarck (who directed Gore’s REGO program until last year) and William Galston in a new magazine called
Blueprint
, which is being published as a kind of policy forum to accompany the Gore presidential campaign, 37 percent of Californians are now classified as “wired workers.” They are socially liberal, fiscally conservative, and market-friendly. If holism means that what is good for you must be good for everybody, then they are probably holists, too. Gore speaks their tongue.
by Elaine Kamarck (who directed Gore’s REGO program until last year) and William Galston in a new magazine called
Blueprint
, which is being published as a kind of policy forum to accompany the Gore presidential campaign, 37 percent of Californians are now classified as “wired workers.” They are socially liberal, fiscally conservative, and market-friendly. If holism means that what is good for you must be good for everybody, then they are probably holists, too. Gore speaks their tongue.
Whether he can rouse them to leave their screen-savers on for a few hours and actually go out and vote is another question. For Gore is a peculiar politician. He thinks long (holding Descartes responsible for the destruction of the rain forest, for example), but he plays a short game (jockeying to deny Gephardt field position in the race in 2000). He is a man whose philosophy is fuzzy but whose affect is rectilinear. And he maintains an abstract faith in process and flow, even though his administration is now facing disaster in part because of the intersection of an unfettered legal inquiry with an unguided information economy. Clinton and Gore don’t need more process. Process is precisely what is killing these guys.
Gore’s faith in process (in “the smooth operations of the organization”) belongs, like his holism, to the mild, ecumenist side of his personality; but this is not, one comes to feel, what drives him. Professing a belief in processes is a way of masking the brute reality of politics, which is will. When we approve of a political or a judicial outcome, we tend to say that “the system worked.” But it wasn’t the system that drove Nixon from office or that denied Robert Bork a seat on the Supreme Court. Those things happened because people committed themselves, against the normal flow of political traffic, to making them happen. Politics is a battle
against
process, just as life is. It is a war against the tendency of things to take their natural course. That’s why we care (when we do care) about politicians: because they offer to turn the tide of events in directions we favor. And we don’t mind if they make a few enemies while they’re at it. We want our team in charge. I’m pretty sure Al Gore knows the feeling.
against
process, just as life is. It is a war against the tendency of things to take their natural course. That’s why we care (when we do care) about politicians: because they offer to turn the tide of events in directions we favor. And we don’t mind if they make a few enemies while they’re at it. We want our team in charge. I’m pretty sure Al Gore knows the feeling.
OCTOBER 16, 1998
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