Burning Down the House

by Julian E. Zelizer

  Once politicians lowered the bar as to what kinds of actions were permissible in the political arena, it was virtually impossible to restore conditions to where they had been. When politicians see a colleague get away with something, the temptation is strong to replicate what they have witnessed in one form or another. Speaker Wright’s belief that there were cycles in American politics—that conditions would swing back to a better time following the turbulence of the moment—was misguided and underestimated how institutions could be permanently degraded. Wright—who resumed life as a professor at Texas Christian University—only slowly came to realize how Gingrich had remade his party. Republicans had proven that the minority party had the ability to demolish a figure of great authority if they wished. They elevated the needs of partisanship over governance. In the process of pushing Wright toward resignation, Gingrich had also introduced, popularized, and refined a potent theme that the GOP could use in the 1990 midterm elections and beyond, while he, once the black sheep, had emerged as a major force in his party.

  Gingrich moved quickly to consolidate his power. Immediately after Wright’s downfall, the Georgian telegraphed his goals when he announced that the GOP would continue to make congressional ethics a central issue and added that there were nine or ten other Democrats who were already the subjects of fresh investigations. He now reiterated his plan to go after more Democrats and promised that he would push forward a broad “reform package” that would transform the way legislators did business. Not long after, the CBS Evening News reported that the FBI had launched an investigation into Congressman William Gray, a third-generation African American Baptist minister and Pennsylvania Democrat who hoped to replace the departed Coelho as majority whip. Gray reported that the charges of corruption were baseless and had Republican fingerprints all over them. “Some on the other side,” said Dick Gephardt, whom Democrats elected as majority leader on June 14, “are committed to the dark side of politics—smear, innuendo, rumors, cynical media management, the politics of character assassination.” When Democrats selected Gray to be whip, Congressman Barney Frank said that the decision “sends the word to Thornburgh [the attorney general] and Atwater that efforts to smear people in this party aren’t going to work.”14

  Gingrich compared his efforts to clean up Capitol Hill to the arrest of five African American and Latino teenage boys in April for having sexually assaulted a jogger in Central Park. “Nobody 40 years ago would have suggested a young woman could have walked through Central Park. I mean, they just sort of understood, at 10 o’clock at night women don’t walk through Central Park. We now have a standard that says, By God, in America you ought to be able to walk through Central Park and not be assaulted.” The comparison was both ironic and telling because it eventually turned out that the police had arrested the wrong men, coerced their confessions, and sent them to prison for years before they were proven innocent.15

  After everything that had gone on, Democrats sought revenge. The party was ready to take out their anger on Gingrich, who they felt was a ruthless hypocrite guilty of his own unethical behavior. Though Gingrich continued to dismiss the accusations against him as a deceitful campaign by Wright allies seeking retribution by spreading lies, others were not so sure. The Republican National Committee sought to preempt further debate by sending out an information sheet to Republican leaders, subtitled “No Comparison,” explaining why the income Gingrich received from his two books was completely different from Wright’s book deal. The Georgian’s book was a “serious political work” published by a reputable publisher, whereas the former Speaker’s volume was just a bunch of speeches and vignettes published by a “convicted felon.” Gingrich’s book was sold in bookstores all over the United States, and even reached the bestseller list, whereas approximately 98 percent of Wright’s books were sold as bulk orders.16

  Gingrich must have been smiling when he read in the newspapers how Robert Michel, once called the voice of reason and said to be the polar opposite of Gingrich, dismissed stories suggesting that Republicans were determined to “kiss and make up” with Democrats after Wright’s downfall. The “cleansing process must continue,” a resolute Michel insisted to the press. After thirty-five years of “corrosive acid” from Democratic rule, there would be no returning to the old ways of Washington.17 Michel sent a private announcement to every member of the Republican Conference that they would need to balance the requirements of governing with the need to fight back hard against Democrats through “guerrilla warfare.” Michel, having had a taste of victory, wanted more.

  John Buckley, the conservative spokesperson of the National Republican Congressional Committee, thought that Gingrich was a breath of fresh air within the tired congressional wing of the party. “Gingrich is classic agitprop,” he wrote, “great with devising the arguments to forward our revolution. I see him as one-third Thomas Paine, one-third Winston Churchill and one-third Genghis Khan.”18

  On June 12, The Washington Post published a feature article about Gingrich, calling him the “point man in a house divided.” Myra MacPherson portrayed Gingrich as the “conservatives’ prize pit bull” who would “stop at nothing” to bring down the Democrats. The legislator who had once been derided by members on both sides of the aisle, MacPherson noted, was now in the “catbird seat” and being courted by the media. The story was certainly not all sanguine. MacPherson featured comments from Democrats and Republicans who didn’t like Gingrich’s style. “Newt doesn’t take the low road—he takes the tunnel,” said a former colleague from West Georgia College. But the piece still presented him as a master of publicity who was expert at manipulating the press. He was shown to be a politician who understood how to use bombastic language to his advantage and a man who grasped better than most that television was the new medium of political exchange: “a politician who knows that contradictions between voting records and words, between reality and a hyped version of reality, scarcely matter in the world of the fifteen-second sound bite.” For all of its critical comments, the feature article, along with a huge photo of Gingrich standing in his office, elevated the minority whip by depicting him without reservation as a force to be reckoned with in Washington politics.19

  On the same day that the Washington Post profile appeared, Newsweek released a cover story titled ETHICS WARS: FRENZY ON THE HILL, in which Tom Morganthau, Howard Fineman, and Eleanor Clift wrote about the storm sweeping over Capitol Hill. “Wright’s disgrace has shaken the Democratic Party,” they reported, “like few events since the fall of Lyndon Johnson,” and continued, “The ethics craze and partisan rancor, both volatile in themselves, are now combining to create an explosive political atmosphere in the 101st Congress.”20

  To be sure, there were a few optimists who said that the process could be different. Speaker-elect Foley promised the nation that his number one goal would be to end the toxic environment on Capitol Hill. He explained in his first interview in his new role that he had confidence the new Democratic leaders could work through this transitional moment. “I think we need to work very seriously at restoring a sense of comity and confidence between members of the two parties,” he said. Hoping to declare a truce, Foley promised to begin his term by reaching out to Republican leaders and avoiding the ugly tactics that had caused a backlash against Speaker Wright. He acknowledged that there were Democrats who were “very bitter about what they regard as the crucifixion of Jim Wright,” but he would not let them take over.21

  Even Lee Atwater seemed temporarily contrite when he publicly apologized for a Republican National Committee memo, written by the communications director Mark Goodin, titled “Tom Foley: Out of the Liberal Closet.”22 The memo itself focused on Foley’s liberal voting record in the House but compared him to Barney Frank, one of the few openly gay politicians at the time. The leaked memo was viewed as an effort to embarrass Foley, who had been married to Heather Strachan since 1968, by depicting him as a homosexual. Karen Van Brocklin, Gingrich’s atta
ck dog, had reportedly called journalists urging them to look into Foley’s private life after the RNC distributed this memo. Thomas Ashley, a former Democratic congressman, wrote President George H. W. Bush that the insinuations about Foley’s sexuality were “unpardonable” and urged his friend to make a strong statement condemning the memo. Despite Van Brocklin’s role, Gingrich denied having anything to do with it. “I called Tom last night,” he told a reporter, “and said that I apologized personally for any pain we’ve caused him.”23

  On the heels of Wright’s dramatic resignation, Gingrich had no intention of slowing down or letting up. Speaker Foley could wax philosophical about the need for civility, and Republicans, including himself, might admit that the “Out of the Liberal Closet” memo went too far, but the frontal assault on Democratic corruption would continue. This was what had propelled him into the House leadership, and it was the theme he believed would finally bring Republicans control of Congress. There was no way he would give up now when Republicans were so close.

  Shortly after the Foley story broke, Gingrich appeared onstage with Senator Bob Dole, who in 1976 gained the moniker “hatchet man” for his ruthless attacks as the vice presidential candidate for Gerald Ford. The occasion was the annual summer meeting of the Republican National Committee on June 16 at a sterile Washington hotel ballroom three blocks from the White House. The main item on the agenda was for the delegates to give a vote of confidence to Atwater in spite of the Foley scandal, which they did. “The Democrats want me out of a job,” an exuberant Atwater said as the local and national attendees offered him their thunderous applause. “But the people here today expressed their depth of support.”24 Dole was up next. He started with a joke, before turning serious, mourning the days when Washington was more civil. After acknowledging the “tragedy for John Tower, Robert Bork, and yes, for Tom Foley,” Dole said, “I love politics. I know it’s rough and tough. I know we can have our differences. And I know we want to win. But it’s gotta be based on wanting to win for some good reason.” Pushing against the tenor of the room, he mentioned a series of incidents where the partisanship had become too bitter, including with Foley. Gingrich walked up to the stage when Dole finished. Although Dole did shake Gingrich’s hand, it was an uncomfortable moment as the senator visibly looked over his shoulder. He was intent on avoiding eye contact with the person he had previously dismissed as the head of the “young hypocrites.”

  But this was not Dole’s moment. As he walked back into the audience, all heads turned toward Gingrich. With the RNC members listening closely, he took a victory lap, reminding them what he had accomplished and how he would use ethics again as the tool to win Republican majorities. He wanted someone like Lee Atwater at the helm. Seeking to whip up his audience, Gingrich warned that the left-wing “machine” would come to get him and Atwater because it was so frightened by the prospect of losing power. “You’re gonna see weird things coming out of this city over the next few years,” he told the audience as it kept applauding, “because you’re watching the death throes of the machine, and you’re watching its power to smear, and its power to intimidate. And the next time you hear anyone say, ‘Let’s fire Lee Atwater,’ the first thing you ought to know is . . . they are either left-wingers or they have been intimidated by left-wingers.” The crowd started to whoop and holler so loudly that they could barely hear when Gingrich ended his speech. Atwater, who was sitting in the front row, rushed up onto the stage and gave Gingrich a warm embrace. The two pumped their fists into the air as Jeanie Austin, the co-chair of the Republican National Committee, grabbed the microphone and said admiringly of Gingrich, “Isn’t he something? Maybe we can all get that on videotape!”25

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  With heated rhetoric like this coming from the GOP, it was not surprising that the truce did not last. Both parties dug much deeper into the trenches of scandal warfare, and despite the initial entreaties for peace, the Wright resignation was a turning point in American politics. “Because he took on Wright and won, [Gingrich] became a serious political figure,” the influential New Right conservative activist Paul Weyrich admitted. “Up to that point, he was regarded as an interesting political figure, somebody that was very good for a quote, but not somebody who was perhaps going to be in the power structure. But when he took on Jim Wright and he won, he was regarded very seriously from that moment on.”26 The Speaker’s ignominious defeat proved to others in the House that Gingrich was a force to be reckoned with and that he could deliver on his barbed promises.

  The shock had been not just that Gingrich and the Republicans had been willing to engage in a full-throated effort to bring down the Speaker of the House before he was proven guilty of any infraction but that Democrats let it happen. Both parties were responsible for the damage. Speaker Wright had proven to be a failed leader for his party. His competence could not be judged simply through policy and his mastery of legislative procedure. Legislative politics by 1989 was about a charged political landscape and being able to survive in an increasingly brutal, polarized world where the parties grew further and further apart with each passing day. Wright’s fall from power was remarkably swift. He proved that he couldn’t handle the cauldron of partisan warfare. This was perhaps the most important test for a party leader. And his failures had enormous long-term consequences for his party and for the institution of Congress, because his downfall opened the door to the Gingrich generation of Republicans and led the way for the GOP to regain control of the House.

  Wright was not the only Democrat to blame. He was just one part of a generation of Democrats in the 1970s who had done too little to fix the nexus between money and politics when a rare window of opportunity for reform had opened in the aftermath of Watergate. The Democrats, who controlled the institution with an iron fist, were reluctant to address a fundamental problem at the heart of our democratic system. Going into the age of Reagan, Congress remained awash in campaign contributions, lobbyists, and shady revolving doors. Private money remained too pervasive in campaigns, lobbyists were all too present in the halls of Capitol Hill, and some legislators were given too much leeway to go as far as they could to make money for themselves and to funnel funds toward their districts. By failing to address these and other problems when the window for reform briefly opened, Democrats made themselves susceptible to being attacked for corruption. While Republicans were guilty of many of these political sins as well, Democrats were the party with power, and they had held that power since 1954, so the overwhelming weight of public blame naturally fell on their shoulders. Although much of Wright’s scandal revolved around personal aggrandizement, it unfolded within a system where many Americans did not trust the relationships and connections that tied members of Congress to money. Gingrich’s attacks on Wright resonated, regardless of the details, because they were so plausible.

  Democrats made a choice with Wright. Their decision to allow their leader to fall so quickly was not a legal decision but a political one. The endless anonymous comments to the press by members saying that he had to step down, and the private conversations Democrats had in the closed room of the caucus, quickly leaked to the press, ratcheted up the pressure on Wright to leave the institution that he loved. For a devout Democrat such as Wright, this betrayal stung more than anything Gingrich could say. Democrats maintained control of the House in the spring of 1989 and, at the time he was under the most intense pressure to step down, polls consistently showed that the public did not know or care about what was going on. Although there was certainly a big political risk for Democrats to use their power to insulate him, in light of the charges that had emerged, the Democrats could have fought back against the Republican efforts—which only a handful of them did—by insisting that the demand for resignation was excessive based on the evidence available to them. Instead, most members of the party decided by the spring of 1989 that Wright was no longer worth the cost of defending, and they let their feelings be known through a
nonymous interviews to a press eager to stop corruption. They sacrificed their troubled leader for the short-term benefits his removal might provide.

  Pressuring Wright to resign offered some insulation for the party in the short term, but failing to stand by him created strong incentives for Republicans to ramp up their efforts and engage in even more brutal fights. Once the Democrats and Wright conceded, there was nothing to disarm the parties or stop Gingrich from again rummaging through his toolbox. It was a compelling, unapologetic example of the ends justifying the means—ends every Republican could get behind.

  Too often, we treat partisan polarization in our recent history as an inexorable force that nothing could stop. Because of the large-scale forces of history, the social scientists say, voters have been sorted into “red” and “blue” states by the institutions remade to incentivize partisanship, and politicians can no longer find areas of agreement. But this view of polarization as inevitable denies agency to the politicians and leaders who pushed partisan combat into a deeper abyss at very specific moments. There were important points where American politics took a more destructive turn. There is a history of partisan polarization that we still need to tell. The battle over Speaker Wright in 1989 was one such turning point, a crucial event, from which Washington never recovered.