TIME: Almanac 1990/1990 Time Magazine Compact Almanac, The (1991)(Time).iso/time/061989/06198900.033

Text File | 1990-09-22 | 5KB | 89 lines

NATION, Page 33

Getting Nasty

How to Spread a Smear

The bickering on Capitol Hill takes a vicious turn


    "Have you no sense of decency, sir?"  That was the question
Army counsel Joseph Welch asked Joseph McCarthy 35 years ago when
the Senator ruined the lives of those who did not agree with him
by impugning their character and patriotism. The same question
could be posed to Republican National Committee chairman Lee
Atwater, his communications director Mark Goodin and Congressman
Newt Gingrich.

    Acting directly or through subordinates, this trio last week
worked to spread a long-standing unsubstantiated rumor designed to
humiliate new House Speaker Thomas Foley. Just as Foley was poised
to take the gavel from departing Speaker Jim Wright's hand, a memo
from the Republican National Committee was circulating to state
party chairmen and G.O.P. Congressmen. Titled "Tom Foley: Out of
the Liberal Closet," the memo compared his voting record with that
of Congressman Barney Frank of Massachusetts, an acknowledged
homosexual. For days, an aide to Republican minority whip Newt
Gingrich had been calling more than a dozen reporters trying to get
the homosexuality rumor into print.

    An effective smear has at its core an outrageous charge that
would be devastating if true. The author must be both coy and
cowardly: he must make the charge stick while retaining
deniability. Although Goodin, Atwater's friend of a decade, took
the fall, the tactic bore the unmistakable Atwater stamp. As Bush's
1988 campaign manager, Atwater specialized in character
assassination: last summer Michael Dukakis was dogged by rumors
that he had been treated for depression. In a similar incident in
1980, Atwater was managing the campaign of South Carolina
Congressman Floyd Spence when a reporter asked Spence's Democratic
opponent whether he had undergone psychiatric treatment. When the
Democrat accused Atwater of planting the question, Atwater said he
wouldn't respond to charges made by someone who had been "hooked
up to jumper cables." Atwater's candidate won.

    Before Atwater saw that he had gone too far, he stood by
Goodin's memo. On Monday he called it "no big deal" and "factually
accurate." Like the police captain in Casablanca who was shocked
that gambling was going on, Atwater professed astonishment that
anyone could interpret the memo as a slur on Foley. Other
Republicans who understood the memo's unmistakable meaning
dissociated themselves, from George Bush on down. Even Congressman
Vin Weber, a close friend of Gingrich's, called the memo an
"abomination," pointing out that this had nothing to do with
enforcing tough ethical standards and everything to do with
"character assassination." By Tuesday, Atwater was backpedaling,
saying he had not approved the memo: "I feel confident that if I
had seen this, it would not have gone out." Atwater apologized to
Foley; Gingrich also apologized and disavowed his aide's actions.
Wednesday Goodin cleaned out his desk.

    Democrats like Beryl Anthony of Arkansas contend that this is
another episode in the "bad employee-good superior" political mud
wrestling that Atwater perfected during the campaign. Staffers,
encouraged by their bosses, go on the attack, then -- like a corps
of civilian Ollie Norths -- take the blame and are publicly
rebuked. The superiors apologize.

    Yet by the time Atwater and Gingrich apologized, the rumor had
achieved its purpose. Foley was forced to deny it both on national
television and before a party caucus. One Democrat at the meeting
said that all around him eyes were averted when Foley, married 20
years and with the bearing and rectitude of a parish priest, had
to assure his colleagues he was not a homosexual.

    Whether out of embarrassment or conciliation, Foley sought to
downplay the incident, calling for an end to this "political
Beirut." Barney Frank was less forgiving. Calling the story
scurrilous, he warned Republicans, "If they don't cut the crap,
something's going to happen, and I'm going to happen it." He knows
of five top Republican officials who are homosexual, he says,
adding, "My list will be accurate."

    The Congress now stands as a paradox of Lord Acton's
observation that power corrupts. Losing corrupts too; 35 years of
rule by the majority Democrats has embittered congressional
Republicans. Even the normally easygoing minority leader, Bob
Michel, has toughened his tone, angering Democrats by calling their
monopoly on power a "corrosive acid upon the restraints of
stability and comity."

    Foley is not letting personal attacks on him keep the House
from cleaning up its mess; his first joint act with Michel was to
ask for a tough ethics-reform package. Investigating Congressmen
who abuse the public trust is the proper business of the House.
Mudslinging is not.