The secret Presidency
Paul Greenberg
December 3, 2001
Who says George W. Bush lacks the elegance, the know-how, the smarts to be president of the
United States?
Look at what he's just done:
He's found a way to keep public records from the public.
He's pulled an end run around the law.
He's closed off a good portion of American history.
He's snubbed the principle of congressional oversight,
and, while at it, found a way to discourage anybody who's
just curious about the truth.
And he managed to accomplish all that by issuing just one
executive order. Talk about elegance, talk about
know-how, talk about smarts.
On his own authority, The Hon. George W. Bush overruled
the law requiring that a president's papers be opened to
the public 12 years after the end of his term -- with the
exception of personal documents and those affecting
national security.
The law was passed in the aftermath of Richard Nixon's
unsuccessful attempt to keep his tape-recorded
conversations from the American people. Now, in an act of
nixonian arrogance, George W. Bush has made that
reform moot.
Under that act, Ronald Reagan's official papers should
have become public Jan. 20 of this year, or 12 years after
he left the Oval Office. But the Bush administration first
delayed the papers' release -- three times. Now it has
decreed that, before presidential papers are released, not
just the former president but the current one must concur.
It's a kind of veto power over history.
Under this order, even when the documents are made
available, they may be seen only by researchers who can
show a "demonstrated, specific" need for them. A general
interest in history, or just in truth, won't suffice.
At a time when even the Kremlin's archives are being
opened, the land of the free is shutting down its. That
stifled cry you hear is from Clio, muse of history. She's
being fitted for blinders by this White House.
But the figure George W. Bush is most likely to hurt by his order is George W.
Bush. For the most immediate effect of his action is to raise suspicions about his
motives. Didn't a number of his high-ranking aides also serve in the Reagan
administration -- like Colin Powell, now secretary of state? And wasn't this
president's father No. 2 in that administration? So the first question his executive
order raises is: What's this president-and-son trying to hide?
Democracy doesn't thrive in darkness, and neither does history. Both need
sunlight.
Bush the Younger would do better to note the experience of another member of
the Reagan administration. Do you remember Caspar Weinberger? He was the
no-nonsense secretary of defense who, together with Ronald Reagan, brought
American military power back from its low ebb during the Carter Years. Peace
through strength, that policy was called, and it drove the Soviet Union first to
distraction and then to bankruptcy and dissolution.
No, Caspar Weinberger wasn't exactly Mr. Personality. He tended to fade into the
background when they took pictures of the Cabinet, and he was always more at
home with numbers than with the usual Washington razzmatazz. But if anyone
made the world safe for freedom, it was Cap Weinberger. He deserved a medal.
So naturally he was charged with a crime.
This straightest of straight arrows was accused of perjury and obstruction of
justice. A special prosecutor named Lawrence Walsh said Weinberger had
sought to cover up his complicity in the Iran-Contra arms deal. Never mind that the
secretary of defense had opposed that shady deal vociferously and in writing. And
that he had objected forcefully, also in writing, when he found out what a couple of
cowboys named Ollie North and Robert McFarlane had got an already vague
Ronald Reagan into.
So what was the basis of these outlandish charges? (a) Caspar Weinberger had
testified, truthfully enough, that he couldn't remember some details of Cabinet
meetings two years before. And (b) he was also supposed to have hidden some
notes he'd made on the subject.
As it turned out, he'd been so intent on keeping those notes secret that, when he
left office, he'd turned all of them over to the Library of Congress, probably the
most public depository in the world. If he was going to hide evidence of his guilt,
why would he put it on display at a public library?
It was on the basis of this flimsy evidence that Caspar Weinberger was indicted.
After a judge dismissed the charge of obstruction of justice, the special
prosecutor simply reworded it and re-indicted Weinberger four days before the
presidential election of 1992. How convenient for the opposition.
Bill Clinton, who has since grown less enamored of special prosecutors, hailed
the indictment of Caspar Weinberger at the time. By the time the charge was
exposed for what it was, the election was safely over.
Long before Caspar Weinberger was pardoned by Bush the Elder, any
fair-minded observer could see what was going on. He'd been made the victim of
a political vendetta by a prosecutor out to collect a presidential scalp.
At one point Cap Weinberger was offered a plea bargain but refused it, preferring
to defend his honor instead. Yet if he had sealed those notes, instead of handing
them over to the Library of Congress and leaving them open for inspection, he
would still be suspected. Mr. Weinberger chose the path of candor, not secrecy.
And is respected for it today. There's a lesson to be learned from his openness.
cc: The Hon. George W. Bush, The White House, Washington, D.C.
©2001 Tribune Media Services
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