Sunday, November 6, 2011

Quote of the Day (Elizabeth Barrett Browning, on Love and God’s “Meanest Creatures”)

“There's nothing low
In love, when love the lowest: meanest creatures
Who love God, God accepts while loving so.
And what I feel, across the inferior features
Of what I am, doth flash itself, and show
How that great work of Love enhances Nature's.” Elizabeth Barrett Browning, Sonnets From the Portuguese: A Celebration of Love (1850)

Saturday, November 5, 2011

Quote of the Day (P.J. O’Rourke, on Large and Small Priorities)

“Everybody wants to save the earth; nobody wants to help Mom do the dishes.” —P.J. O'Rourke, All the Trouble in the World (1995)

Friday, November 4, 2011

Quote of the Day (Joseph Addison, on the “Greatest Weakness of Human Nature”)

“As this Mutability of Temper and Inconsistency with our selves is the greatest Weakness of human Nature, so it makes the Person who is remarkable for it in a very particular Manner more ridiculous than any other Infirmity whatsoever, as it sets him in a greater Variety of foolish Lights, and distinguishes him from himself by an Opposition of party-coloured Characters.”--Joseph Addison, Essay from The Spectator, No. 162, September 5, 1711

Thursday, November 3, 2011

Quote of the Day (Alan Jacobs, on the Pleasures of Reading)

“Read what gives you delight—at least most of the time—and do so without shame. And even if you are that rare sort of person who is delighted chiefly by what some people call Great Books, don’t make them your steady intellectual diet, any more than you would eat at the most elegant of restaurants every day. It would be too much. Great books are great in part because of what they ask of their readers: they are not readily encountered, easily assessed.”-- Alan Jacobs, The Pleasures of Reading in an Age of Distraction (2011)

Wednesday, November 2, 2011

Quote of the Day (Joe Nocera, on Jon Corzine)

“The idea that [Jon] Corzine, who single-handedly destroyed MF Global Holdings, was in a position to command so much as a penny in severance is horrifying. It suggests two things. The first is the extent to which ‘heads-I-win-tails-you-lose’ remains the operative concept for Wall Street compensation. The second is that one’s politics doesn’t much matter when it comes to lining one’s pockets. Corzine is an avowed liberal who has decried income inequality and Wall Street pay — but right up until the end, he had his hand out for millions he didn’t deserve.”—Joe Nocera, “Corzine Crashes Like It’s 2008,” The New York Times, November 1, 2011

The picture accompanying this post reminds me of the tagline Esquire Magazine ran during the Seventies next to a picture of Richard Nixon: "Why is this man smiling?" In both cases, it represented the temporary gloating of a too-clever-by-half politician who didn't see the fall he was about to take.

In a way, you could have predicted the mad course that Jon Corzine chose at MF Global Holdings—in Nocera’s words, “taking giant bets on shaky, long-term bonds while financing your operations with overnight loans that can be pulled at any second”—four years ago, when the then-governor of New Jersey crashed in his limo . Talk about risky behavior: Having your driver, a state trooper, gun the car at 91 miles per hour in a 65 MPH zone, then, in the bargain, you don't wear a seat belt—both actions against the law—was not only self-destructive, but could have caused collateral damage to anyone near him. (All of this not for a genuine emergency, but for a photo op: the much-ballyhooed meeting between the coach of Rutgers’ women’s basketball team and shock jock Don Imus.) For his hubris, Corzine was badly injured.

The governor, we were told then, had learned his lesson (though that, predictably, was spin--the second he made it out of the hospital, he returned to Drumthwacket, the governor’s mansion, in a van clocked 15 MPH over the speed limit). The events of the last week, however, demonstrate that this was only in the metaphoric sense. He crashed again--this time, with other people’s money.

Whether Corzine is indicted, let alone goes to jail, is one thing, but it seems a safe bet to say that the wish closest to his heart--to be a real player in the Democratic Party--is over.

When he first ran for office, nobody really thought he’d be satisfied for long as a one-of-one-hundred U.S. Senator. He needed to be an executive, the way he was as CEO of Goldman Sachs before being forced out. And so, he set his sights on being governor of New Jersey. All that money from his Goldman days enabled him to elbow out better candidates, notably Richard Codey.

Then, once he got a good look around at the state of the state--all those bosses and interest groups to be placated, all those fiscal bodies lying around in the so-called “Soprano State“--Corzine couldn’t wait to find a graceful exit. Treasury Secretary looked like a great deal, except that he backed the wrong horse in 2008, supporting Hilary Clinton,  so President Obama felt no compunctions about naming Timothy Geithner to the post.

A second term as governor was a meager consolation prize that Corzine still couldn’t pull off. In the last gubernatorial election, Chris Christie wasn’t yet the GOP rock star he would later become. He was already showing signs of becoming the loudmouthed jerk he now, so manifestly, is. And yet, the brilliant campaign Corzine & Co. created against him was an ad saying--wink-wink!--that the rotund challenger would be “throwing his weight around,” an unimaginative ploy that only boomeranged with a sizable part of the electorate that had their own weight issues. Corzine couldn’t engage Christie on the issues, as he should have--and could have--done, so he deserved to lose.

The move to MF Holdings must have seemed a brilliant maneuver for Corzine, sort of like an NFL option play in the hands of Michael Vick. He could pass I.e., look downfield for a really big payday. Or he could run with the ball himself--I.e., hold onto his earnings long enough for a reelected Obama to come to his senses and replace an exhausted Geithner at the Treasury with a rebranded Corzine.

Corzine elected not merely to pass, but to throw a bomb. It was, as Nocera indicates, like Lehman 2008 all over again.

We'll find out soon enough whether Corzine directed that client funds be used to keep MF Global afloat-- a definite SEC no-no. But at very least, he was asleep at the wheel when someone else was pulling this off. That would not exactly be something you'd want to put down on your resume if you wanted to watch over the finances of Aemrica.

Corzine’s failed political career and messy denouement at MF Global would, one hopes, finally put to rest a couple of hoary ideas that, in the face of all facts, have managed to endure.

The first is about the value of a politician who “knows the value of a buck.” This was the ticket to Gracie Mansion for City Comptroller Abe Beame, who went on to flail over New York City’s fiscal crisis. Similarly, Corzine, who made millions at Goldman, trumpeted himself as a wise steward of money. That left the citizens of New Jersey all the more perplexed, then, by Corzine’s “asset monetization” plan, one that, for the life of them, they could not understand how it would be anything other than just another gimmick to make the state’s budget deficit look better than it was. (In a sense, of course, that scheme was just a variation on the head-scratching maneuver Corzine would try at MF Global.)

The second idea is the notion that a rich man can’t be corrupt because he can’t be bought. What that theory neglects is the very real threat that he can buy off others. That is what happened in Corzine’s first, successful attempt to become governor of New Jersey, when all his Goldman lucre looked pretty good to county bosses who backed him in the race.

Corzine gives an especially forceful reminder of the dangerous nexus between wealth and politics in this country. It can enable someone not just to get into high office (Corzine) but to stay there by spreading around enough goodies (New York Mayor Mike Bloomberg, suborning the City Council to void the ban on third terms for mayors).

In another sense, it’s a good thing that Corzine’s career has cratered for the third time. His millions would have made him, if not a major possibility for a Treasury Department post, at least a moneyman to whom the President would have to listen.

Whatever its other woolly notions (or lack of even these), the Occupy Wall Street movement has shown us the danger of such high-placed counsel. America finds itself in such a perilous financial mess because for years, it did not have a second, credible party that would look long and hard at a financial system running dangerously amok. The influence of Wall Street on Democrats didn't end with Robert Rubin or Steven Rattner. As of October 25, President Obama had raised nearly $12 million from Wall Street contributors to the Democratic National Committee.

Corzine would have been just one more high-placed fiscal consigliore whispering in the ear of an ostensibly progressive Democrat that really, all was well with The Street if we just left it alone. His fall was opportune in more ways than one.

Tuesday, November 1, 2011

This Day in Civil War History (McClellan, ‘”Young Napoleon,” Named Union Commander)

November 1, 1861—The greatest American professional soldier of the first half of the 19th century was replaced by a onetime protégé who had begun to bewilder and bother his old boss. Worn down by a lifetime of labor, Winfield Scott, who had led armies in the War of 1812 and the Seminole Wars, then had influenced an entire new generation of future Civil War leaders on both sides during the Mexican War, had his retirement accepted by the administration of Abraham Lincoln, which then immediately named as his replacement George Brinton McClellan (pictured).

The contrast between the departing and incoming generals, at least in the minds of the media, could not have been more stark, and worked entirely to the advantage of the considerably younger and more vigorous “Little Mac.” At 75, Scott seemed old and washed-up, more than fulfilling the expectations created by his nickname, “Old Fuss and Feathers.” At 35, McClellan was hailed as the victor in the one area in the eastern theater of operations where Union forces had so far bested the Confederates: West Virginia. Goodbye, yesterday's superannuated hero. Hello, tomorrow's genius.

Unfortunately, appearances were as deceiving then as they are now. For the next year, McClellan would tantalize and, ultimately, vex the Lincoln administration--first displaying superb organizational and motivational skills, then engaging in insubordination and, fatally, what the incredibly tolerant President eventually concluded was a case of “the slows.”

McClellan’s career constitutes a warning to beware of military or political messiahs. He seemed on the fast track to success--graduating second in his West Point class, receiving two promotions as an engineer officer while on Scott’s staff in Mexico, being chosen by the Army to observe the Crimean War. His rise had been as meteoric in the civilian (chief engineer of the Illinois Central Railroad, then president of the Ohio and Mississippi Railroad) as in the military realm.

Minor victories in what soon became West Virginia in the first half of 1861 stood out as specks of light in a very dark area of operations for the North. The Battle of Bull Run had frightened everyone out of their wits. Even McClellan’s harshest critics have nothing bad to say about his subseuqenunstinting work in organizing and training the Army of the Potomac in the aftermath of that debacle--actions that saved the nation’s morale at a dangerous time.

But already, trouble was surrounding “Little Mac”:

* It was rumored--correctly--that his success in West Virginia had nothing to do with him. At the Battle of Rich Mountain in July 1861, it was William Rosecrans rather than McClellan who conceived the maneuvers that won the battle--just as it was Rosecrans who, at the height of the fighting, continued to victory, even when McClellan, hearing the sounds of battle far off, was so convinced of a loss that he refused to reinforce his subordinate.

* He was believing his hype as the “Young Napoleon.” Height--and, perhaps, that habit of sticking his hand in his uniform that you see in the accompanying photo--might have had more to do with this than anything else. But, as Lincoln pressed him to take the fighting to the Confederacy--something other generals (including U.S. Grant in the West) were already doing--McClellan conceived of the idea of a Napoleonic “grand army” to move toward Richmond. But, as Williamson Murray noted in a MHQ article called “What Took the North So Long?”, Napoleonic set-piece tactics were about to be rendered obsolete by new weaponry that lengthened killing ranges by 300 to 400 yards--and dramatically increased the carnage. No, it wasn’t Napoleonic tactics that would secure victory, but a Napoleonic mindset of energy and daring. The cautious-to-a-fault McClellan didn’t possess these latter attributes.

* McClellan’s barely concealed contempt for Lincoln put him on a collision course with the President. When he wasn’t offering advice that was not his business to give on Lincoln’s actions in dealing with the South, McClellan was privately telling friends that the President was “a well-meaning baboon.” At one point, when the President came to visit him, the commander, who had been out at a military wedding, did not bother even to greet the President, but went straight to bed. Lincoln, normally willing to abide nearly anything from a general so long as he produced victory, grew increasingly tired of his commander’s arrogance and excuses.


* McClellan was scoffing at eminently sane advice from Scott. When the old general had raised some practical objections to McClellan's original plans for marching on Richmond, "Little Mac" heaped scorn on his well-meaning mentor's "Anaconda Plan" for squeezing the life out of the Confederacy. Of course, this was the strategy that, when implemented by Grant and Sherman, won the war for the Union.

* McClellan was overly susceptible to faulty military intelligence he wanted badly to believe. Those assessments, provided by Allan Pinkerton (founder of the legendary American detective agency), wildly overestimated the enemy. They not only delayed McClellan from taking his army into the field, but, on the few occasions when he had finally screwed up his courage to do so, convinced him to let the initiative lapse when victory could still have been his.

* McClellan’s failure of nerve led to extraordinary vacillations during campaigns. In June 1862, toward the end of his Seven Days campaign against Richmond, McClellan fired off a set of amazing telegrams to his civilian commander--first claiming that he battled under “great inferiority in numbers,” then stating he was beginning “to think we are invincible,” then griping again about facing “vastly superior numbers,” and concluding that “You have done your best to sacrifice this army.” So shocking was this last statement that the supervisor of military telegrams in Washington took it upon himself to delete it, thereby ensuring McClellan a couple of months more of continued employment that he didn’t deserve.


* McClellan's lack of decisiveness led him to squander the greatest opportunity for cutting the Confederacy to pieces early on. When Robert E. Lee led the Army of Northern Virginia into Maryland on his first of two invasions of the North, McClellan had a golden opportunity to cut him to pieces when he received Special Orders No. 191--what became famous to history as the Confederate commander's "Lost Order." McClellan had what commanders dream of getting just before battle: an indication of the foe's placement of troops, movements, and ultimate objective. Better yet, Lee had no idea McClellan knew all of this. Moreover, "Little Mac" knew it, boasting to a subordinate that the coming battle would be reminiscent of Napoleon's 1796 victory at Castiglione.  But instead of annihilating the Army of Northern Virginia, McClellan only fought it to a bloody draw at Antietam, having forfeited his chance at glory by moving his troops with insufficient speed for four days. At the height of the battle, which caused the greatest loss of American military casualties on a single day, McClellan still withheld divisions from the attack.

Roughly a year after his appointment, Lincoln relieved McClellan of command. Still, for the comparatively short time he had as comander,  McClellan had affected the Army of the Potomac for the rest of the war. On the one hand, he had provided his beloved troops with the intensive training they needed to match their enthusiasm. But historian Joseph B. Mitchell delivered an even more devastating summary of his many faults as strategist and commander:

"McClellan set such a poor example--multiple excuses, timidity, lack of appreciation of the value of time, caution, and apprehension--that his army never completely recovered from the effects of his leadership until the very last days of the war when General Grant was in charge of its operations."

Quote of the Day (Richard Burton, on Reputation--With Application to the Political Scandal Du Jour)

"I rather like my reputation, actually, that of a spoiled genius from the Welsh gutter, a drunk, a womanizer; it's rather an attractive image."--Richard Burton, quoted in Gene Shalit, Great Hollywood Wit: A Glorious Cavalcade of Hollywood Wisecracks, Zingers, Japes, Quips, Slings, Jests, Snappers and Sass From the Stars (2003)

With reputations, it’s all about where you make them and how long the impression lasts. Burton, of course, had wide latitude in Hollywood, where four is probably the median number of marriages and the number of affairs is exponentially larger. There, a reputation as a sexual swordsman gives you a certain cachet.

But in politics, better known, in James Carville’s formulation, as “show business for ugly people”--well, that’s another story. There, depending on the stage of the career, a reputation is made and re-made repeatedly. You might think you can simply move on and upward, without anyone remembering what you did along the way. Not so.

Or, as Robert Penn Warren’s political boss Willie Stark says in All the King’s Men: “Man is conceived in sin and born in corruption and he passeth from the stink of the didie to the stench of the shroud. There is always something.”

Herman Cain is encountering this great truth right now. Did he commit sexual harassment, or engage in some similar louche behavior? Maybe. Maybe not. Maybe we’ll never know.

But it was a major, major mistake for him to embark upon this campaign without thinking that settlements with two women while he was president of the National Restaurant Association would not come to light. A recent summary from The Huffington Post on his most recent accounts of the matter include an inordinate number of “I do not recall” or its variants.

His campaign’s response to the revelation bears all the marks of a disarray he surely would not have tolerated as a business executive, but I’m afraid he has only himself to blame. If he was indeed innocent, he should have told his inner circle from the start so they could immediately launch an effective defense. (The beginning of the campaign would have been best to reveal this, but it seems as if his handlers knew 10 days ago that members of the media had this story, and the responses are still changing.) If he was guilty as claimed, his decision to begin an epic, cross-country campaign will come to be seen as an act of hubris on the order of John Edwards’ similar one before the 2008 campaign, when he already knew that Rielle Hunter loomed in the background.

There is also the matter of audience. Burton’s reputation as a “spoiled genius” only enhanced his credibility in his best roles in Becket, The Spy Who Came in From the Cold, Who’s Afraid of Virginia Woolf and Equus--world-weary men haunted by their pasts. If the current claims are true, the conservative voters in the Republican primaries will not be anywhere near as understanding with Cain as Burton’s audience was.

Whether or not the accusations turn out to be accurate, the press have not covered themselves in glory. The initial accounts came from two anonymous sources, which, unlike a courtroom, does not allow the quarry to confront his accusers. Unlike Clarence Thomas and Bill Clinton, we don’t even know the substance of what is claimed, never mind the truth of the matter.

What we do know is this: risking a hard-won reputation built up over a lifetime on a campaign for President requires a level of ego unknown to the average voter, though perfectly normal in show business and its ugly sister, politics.