White House Confidential

In Defense of Varnish

By Rick Horowitz

You know the way it works. Something goes wrong -- partially wrong, or even terribly, totally wrong -- with something a president and his people do, or fail to do. The voters are upset about it, and Congress is seized with
a) a sense of outrage;
b) a sense of duty;
c) a sense that this is an even-numbered year with a November in it.

In fact, Congress is so seized that they bestir themselves from their normal Congressional duties (fundraising) long enough to "look into it." They want to know what the president knew, and when he knew it, and furthermore, what the people around the president knew, and when they knew it, and assuming they knew it, whether the thought ever crossed their minds to share a bit of it with the man ostensibly in charge.

Congress wants to see the records.

At which point, the White House puffs itself up to its full Home Office of the World's Only Superpower expanse and tells the distinguished members to buzz off.

Happens all the time: Congress requests, the White House rejects. Happens in almost every administration, too, although the current gang seems particular fond of the practice. They don't just play their cards close to their vests -- they stuff them inside their undershirts.

If this bunch had been half as committed to keeping those levees from leaking as they've been to keeping their e-mail from leaking, maybe Congress wouldn't be after their e-mail in the first place. Or did you think the word "stonewall" referred to flood protection?

The White House, of course, wants everyone to know that they've been the very soul of reasonableness, that they've already given Congress "all the information they need." Which, you may have noticed, is very different from giving them "all the information they asked for." And who decides just what information they "need"? That's the beauty part: It's the same White House that's been asked to hand it over, with the occasional assistance of people like our distinguished attorney general, Alberto "Anything You Want, Boss" Gonzales. Oddly enough, more than most of the time, they come down on the side of keeping it to themselves.

Understand, they're not saying no to be mean. They always have their reasons.

If they turned it over -- whatever "it" is -- they'd be helping the terrorists.

If they turned it over, they'd be weakening those vital principles of executive privilege and separation of powers. And that old standby:

If they turned it over, this president, not to mention future presidents, would never again be able to receive "unvarnished advice."

That's the way they always say it, too: "unvarnished advice." The kind of candid conversation that you want -- that you need -- in the Oval Office. The kind of conversation that considers all the options, even the unpopular ones, that lays everything out there, rough edges and all, and helps the president makes the tough decisions -- the right decisions. Straight talk, with the ragged parts still on it. The president and his counselors at their very best.

And you certainly wouldn't want a bucket of varnish to get in the way of that, nosiree.

Except...

Except that it's not as if this administration has been producing such wonderful results with the no-varnish system. In fact, you could make a pretty good argument that, considering their track record on Iraq and Katrina and such, maybe it would be a good thing for them to worry about what people might think if this or that e-mail, this or that memo, ever got out.

In fact, you could make a pretty good case that, in the wrong hands, the quest for "unvarnished advice" is mostly a Bunglers Protection Plan. The president and the people around him can ignore any warning, misread any signal, say any fool thing that comes into their heads and, if they have their way, we'll never be the wiser. They can claim that this or that piece of information never reached them -- or, if it's more politically advantageous to argue the other way, that they had this or that piece of information right from the jump.

Maybe if they thought we'd find out about it, they'd actually feel compelled to keep on top of things. Maybe the president would even feel -- perish the thought! -- compelled to surround himself with better people.

Unvarnished is nice.

We'd settle for competent.

Posted 1/30/06. Get award-winning commentary from syndicated columnist Rick Horowitz twice every week.

Rick Horowitz is a syndicated columnist, TV commentator, writing coach and public speaker.

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