Recent reports about Alberto Gonzales paint the portrait of a man in genuine pain. It may not "be equivalent in intensity to the pain accompanying serious physical injury such as organ failure, impairment of bodily function, or even death" - to use the words of Mr. Gonzales' Justice Department - but it still sounds like pain to me.
We've also seen a tormented-sounding apologia from Matthew Dowd, a man whose tactics (along with Karl Rove's) have shattered our body politic. Rousseau said that "keeping citizens apart has become the first maxim of modern politics," and nobody has embodied that more than Dowd.
This may sound like a frivolous question, but it's been on my mind: What's a fair and just reaction to these unfolding dramas?
Mr. Gonzales has been "spending hours practicing testimony and phoning lawmakers for support in preparation for pivotal appearances in the Senate this month," the Times reported yesterday. And today Monica Goodling resigned, becoming the third top Gonzales aide to quit over involvement in the firing of Federal prosecutors.
I can only imagine the feeling someone gets in the pit of their stomach as the circle draws tighter and tighter, the evidentiary chain becomes shorter, and the protective ring of friends and allies begins to fall away.
Pride goeth before destruction, and an haughty spirit before a fall. The self-described Christians in this Administration may not recognize the quote (it's Proverbs 16:18), but soon they'll recognize the experience. They had a long run of unrestrained power. How were they to know how quickly it could end?
No serious observer can continue to question the fact that Prosecutorgate has become a criminal investigation. Goodling's use of the Fifth Amendment is her right as an American, but let's be clear: We're not talking about the Hollywood Ten, who used that amendment to protect themselves from invasive Congressional attacks on political speech. We're talking about a public employee - in the Justice Department, of all places - who has now declared publicly that truthfully answering Congressional questions might result in her own criminal indictment.
So Mr. Gonzales can't be feeling very comfortable these days. And what's the most ethical response I can have to evidence of his continued and increasing discomfort? Is gloating called for? Glee? Satisfaction? Or should I respond with compassion and pity for someone who compromised everything to advance himself, only to see it begin to collapse all around him?
I understand that Mr. Gonzales will never experience the level of suffering experienced by the innocent men, women, and children who were tortured thanks to his collaboration - and then sometimes left to walk home with $100 in their pocket for their trouble. Nor is he (or we) any safer from terrorism as a result of these horrible acts. In fact, we're less safe because they took place.
But we - those of us who oppose Mr. Gonzales and the Administration he represents - are supposed to be better than they are. I can only speak for myself, but I can't afford to hate Mr. Gonzales or wish evil things upon him. I wish that justice be done in his case, and the result may feel like evil to him. But they're not the same thing.
Is Gonzales himself evil? In the sense that he's collaborated in evil deeds, yes. But evil can be banal, as Hannah Arendt pointed out long ago. And there are gray areas between that which is simply wrong and that which is truly evil. In his mind, I'm sure Alberto Gonzales was just a guy who got some lucky breaks and did what he could with them.
One thing's for sure: I've written about an American Reconciliation, but reconciliation happens only after wrongdoing has been confessed, amends have been made, and forgiveness has been requested. Gonzales' "rehearsals" and lobbying calls to lawmakers suggest someone who's still trying to escape the posse.
There can be no justice without mercy, but there can be no mercy without truth.
Which leads us to Matthew Dowd, whose renunciation of George W. Bush got a lot of press attention last week. "I'm a big believer that in part what we're called to do -- to me, by God; other people call it karma -- is to restore balance when things didn't turn out the way they should have," Mr. Dowd said. "Just being quiet is not an option when I was so publicly advocating an election."
Here's the thing about our obligation to do the right thing, whether you call it "God," "karma," or just your human duty: When you've done wrong you must make amends to the best of your ability, and regardless of any potential harm to yourself.
Dowd's recantation didn't play too well in the left blogosphere. Sidney Blumenthal was eloquent in his criticism, while Bob Somerby nailed the press for its professed naïveté about the possibility that Dowd had self-seeking motives.
Is Dowd being self-serving? I have no idea. Here's what I do know: He says he wrote a piece about Iraq called "Kerry Was Right," but never submitted it for publication. Whatever you believe, good intentions alone don't change your karma, get you right with God, or make you a better person. Only actions count -actions that help to undo the harm you've done.
If Matthew Dowd is truly repentant, he'll work to undermine the GOP-driven culture of division. He'll reveal everything he knows about the Fox/Republican Party connection. He'll tell us about Abramoff and the GOP, Halliburton and war decision-making, the energy cartel and the setting of Administration policy.
I take no pleasure in Matthew Dowd's discomfort, or in Alberto Gonzales'. But whether you believe that we're reborn on the wheel of karma, that we face the judgment of God, or that we should behave ethically for human reasons alone, I'm pretty sure about one thing: talk is cheap.
So, I think I've finally figured out how I feel. it's too bad if these guys are hurting. But if Matthew Dowd or Alberto Gonzales want the pain to end, they need to step up and do the right thing. Only they can change their destinies.
Nice bible quote there, RJ. I love the bible.
Posted by: peter | April 09, 2007 at 01:10 AM