As he began a legislative marathon testing every vestige of personal humility, Donald Rumsfeld seemed to be gazing up at a black Jesus.
There he was, in the House Armed Services Committee hearing room filled with hideously conventional oil portraits of past, mostly Southern, white chairmen sitting in leather chairs. But looming above all is a painting of former Rep. Ron Dellums, a black liberal from Berkeley, Calif., who stands tall in a dark suit, arms crossed with sun pouring in over his right shoulder from a window in the portrait’s terra cotta room.
It has a distinctly heavenly, portentous aura, out of sync with its counterparts. And, for sure, it was out of sync with the distinctly secular, nuts-and-bolts tedium confronting a frequently impatient man who has taken on the most formidable task of any Bush Cabinet member: corralling the Pentagon.
Last Thursday the uncharacteristic role of subordinate was forced upon the no-nonsense, if at times whimsical, Rumsfeld, a Princeton-bred politician-turned-corporate-chieftain who has inescapably infuriated many at the Defense Department (driving one secretary to tears, according to hallway talk). Others would ask the questions.
Being beckoned by Congress is an inevitable part of a job in which he has been asking many questions–and ruffling feathers. In fact, he has alienated many military officials, mostly through bureaucratic tactics that leave the impression that the officials are part of the problem, not the solutions he correctly divines are needed.
Rumsfeld dispatches post-meeting “to do” memos (labeled “snowflakes” behind his back) and has a slew of outsiders inspecting the joint, like corporate anthropologists. As he dissects the place, the jury remains out, in part because Rumsfeld, right or wrong, is not playing by the old rules.
For six hours, he restrained what would have been a justifiable impulse to wonder aloud how misguided voters were to send such an intellectually fallow gentleman or lady to Washington. Provincial, even obtuse, questioning was as prevalent as the fawning entourage around the secretary himself.
And, as he dealt with them all, I discerned a force Rumsfeld faces that might be bigger than the combined intransigence of the armed services, the big-bucks military contractors and the Congress, all of which crave the status quo he threatens.
It’s a force that all of his smarts, money and experience in and out of government may not be able to conquer. It’s the power of indifference.
At immediate issue was his budget for 2002, which will consume about 330 billion of your tax dollars. It’s a staggering sum, even if one could argue that it’s not nearly enough and as Rumsfeld concedes that the Pentagon is clearly not spending some of it very wisely.
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First up was the 60-member House committee, which tends to amount to a home game for a defense secretary. Many are Pentagon supporters, with interests back home to protect.
The few who don’t look or sound alike include self-effacing Kansas Republican Jim Ryun, the track and field legend and a conservative and devout Christian, and Cynthia McKinney, a Georgia Democrat of liberal ideology and flamboyant, confrontational personality. Overall, it’s an underwhelming group that reflects the declining prestige of the committee in a post-Cold War era.
Attired in a charcoal suit, crisp white shirt and gray tie, Rumsfeld listened to Chairman Bob Stump, an Arizona Republican, greet him, then quickly chide the Clinton administration for “underresourcing” the military. Stump, 74, a World War II Navy veteran, left no doubt that Rumsfeld’s proposed $18 billion addition to an earlier tentative budget fell short and that bigger, long-term hikes were in order.
What ensued was largely a descent into hometown concerns that belied the fact that there are huge, macro questions to ask Rumsfeld. How are we supposed to pay for his extra $18 billion? More telling, what should be the long-term role and structure of our military, a matter he is studying?
Because Rumsfeld, a remarkably fit 69, knows that we have way too many military bases and should close at least 25 percent, several asked about a base in their district and the desperate national need to keep it.
Then there were the likes of Mississippi’s conservative Democrat Gene Taylor, who wanted to know about the decline of shipbuilding, protective of yards in his district. Others, notably those from Georgia and Kansas, were irate about plans to move B-1 supersonic bombers out of their states as part of a consolidation of five bases in an overall cutback of the plane.
And there was the Maryland Republican worried about Rumsfeld suggestions to privatize commissaries and PXs, which the congressman thinks could harm the “sense of community” the shops bring to the military overseas. Maybe he’s trying to protect inexpensive Butterfinger candy bars.
Rumsfeld, whose chagrin can be manifested by a look of seeming dyspepsia, handled them all with aplomb, even if not giving them the answers they sought. It was only when a brainy liberal Democrat from Maine, Tom Allen, hit him with a flurry of critical questions about a missile defense system that Rumsfeld offered a pointed, steely counterattack.
“Goodness gracious!” Rumsfeld said with low-key but unmistakable condescension.
Having jotted down some of Allen’s more confrontational rhetoric, he spit back several of his phrases and showed why, like him or not, the Pentagon chief is formidable.
No, the Pentagon is not deploying anything that is “untested,” he said, making clear that, deployment or not, testing has to be done on new potential systems. Similarly, he brushed aside Allen’s notions that such a system “would never work,” saying that’s the same language heard by the Wright brothers, and the claim that there is a “rush to change the ABM” Treaty, underscoring real doubts about its utility and meaning.
As for Allen’s claim that the administration is using “vague scare tactics” about foreign threats, he declared, “Hardly, Mister Congressman,” making a fair case about why there is bona fide reason to be nervous.
The House session concluded with apple polishing, notably that of Rep. Mark Kirk, the bright North Shore Republican who represents Rumsfeld’s old district. “I’m glad you’re going to be unleashed!” he declared.
At that rate, they may move some B-1 bombers to Evanston.
After a luncheon break, Rumsfeld & Co. headed to the other side of the Capitol for distinctly tougher inquisitions during a three-hour Senate Armed Services hearing, starting with the assertion of Democratic Chairman Carl Levin of Michigan that the Bush tax cuts leave a slew of other programs, including national security ones, “in an extremely, and unnecessarily, precarious position.”
Rumsfeld did not back down on how we can pay for his supplementary request for $18 billion. Could it be done without dipping into the Medicare or Social Security trust funds? “Absolutely,” he responded.
He seemed to exhibit a bit more deference to the senators than he had to several congressmen, along the way himself asking the sort of basic questions no politician did at any point.
When Sen. John Warner (R-Va.) worried about our military’s “readiness,” Rumsfeld responded, “Readiness for what?” Good question. What do we want our military’s mission to be?
By the time it all ended, with Sen. John McCain (R-Ariz.) saying, “I don’t think you’re asking for enough money,” Rumsfeld had given a de facto primer on the complexity of his task, the huge organizational and strategic problems facing him that surely make those he faced at G.D. Searle and General Instrument look like kid stuff–like $2 trillion (yes, trillion) in Pentagon financial transactions that cannot be accounted for.
But by the time he finished and prepared to exit with his entourage to do a CNN business show, the room was nearly empty of senators and media, much as it had been when the House session ended.
And that, perhaps, hints at his ultimate challenge: apathy. With no Cold War, he faces a Congress, public and press that have tuned out military matters. He lacks the sort of public consensus he might really need to transform a proud, effective but perhaps moth-eaten institution.
Rumsfeld doesn’t suffer fools gladly. I wonder how he will handle a more amorphous force, namely that so precious few give a damn.