Composite Wisdom Right
Daily Observer
Television
was banned from the Lapius ménage. Only twice since I knew him had he
relented. The first time was during the
senate hearings on Watergate, and this, the second, during the House Judiciary
Committee hearings and the subsequent resignation. On each occasion Lapius
rented a color video. “They are too
tempting to keep on hand,” he told me when I suggested that the ban might
somehow be related to his frugal nature.
However,
during the dramatic national trauma, Lapius was glued
to the set and brooked no interruption save his own, when he took the time to
interpret the obvious. “We are
privileged to observe the constitutional system functioning in living color,”
he said. “Where else could this occur?”
he noted again and again in wonderment, then shushed
me with a wave of his hand when I tried to answer.
So
through the long hours we watched and listened to the legal arguments, the
appraisals, the rebuttals, the votes on the various articles of
impeachment. We sat silently through Mr.
Nixon’s last official televised appearance before the American people, and then
his tearful farewell, where he manifested the humility that might have avoided
for him this terrible moment had it surfaced at the beginning of Watergate.
We
heard Gerry Ford’s first speech, and watched as he grew in stature before our
eyes, from ‘Gerry’ to Gerald Ford, President of the United States, sort of a
playback in reverse of President Nixon, becoming human again as he doffed the
mantle of presidential power to appear before us in the simple raiment of the ordinary
citizen.
“The
transformations are unbelievable,” Lapius mused,
turning off the set when it was all over.
“Could
we watch ‘Kojak’ since we have the set?” I asked.
“Absolutely not. The
ban is reinstated, Harry. The set is
being returned in the morning. What a
week. Unbelievable.”
“Why
so surprised?” I asked. “There was no
doubt in your mind that this would happen, was there?”
“Nonetheless,
Harry, it is still a stunning event.
After all, one can anticipate an execution, but still be shocked to
observe the head falling into the basket.
Watching one’s leader deposed in a methodical parliamentary manner,
without shouting or turmoil, with proper attention to legal scruples, is a
majestic, albeit sad event.”
“How
do you feel about it?”
“It
had to be done, Harry. The man
undermined basic constitutional tenets.
He lied to his constituency, and finally troubled the conscience of the
nation.”
“I’ll
never understand how he allowed himself to get into such a mess. His loyalty to his cronies certainly exceeded
his loyalty to his oath of office.”
“True,”
said Lapius, “and he brought down Teddy Kennedy with
him. Kennedy, after all, was guilty of
something quite similar in the Kopechne case. The nation will never vote into the
presidency now. We have had a tremendous
lesson in constitutional democracy.”
“Indeed
we have. How about letting me watch Kojak?”
Lapius ignored the request.
“There is a saying on Wall Street that ‘the little man is always
wrong’. Not so, Harry. The so called little man, or should I say the
composite wisdom of the little man, is always right. None of this would have happened had not
Nixon lost his support among the people….”
“He
never admitted that he had made a mistake.” I noted.
“And
never will. I suspect that he doesn’t
understand quite what it was that he did that was wrong. It is interesting that the Nixon haters blame
him for Erlichman and Halderman,
but fail to credit him for Kissinger; and the Nixon partisans credit him with
Kissinger, and try to divorce him from Erlichman and
the others. The problem is that he must
be held responsible for the good and the bad of his administration.”
“I
suspect,” Lapius continued, “the secret of the
paradox is that the ex-president was not able to distinguish right from wrong
in a moral sense. There are people like
that. Tone deaf to the
ethical values of a society. As a
result he was able to function effectively and to everybody’s advantage in the
international arena but he flunked at home.”
“How come?”
“International
relations exist in a vacuum. They are
amoral. There is no effective basic
morality common to all nations, and if there were, no effective force exists to
police them. Nixon could do a lot of
free-wheeling in these areas, untroubled, as he seems to be by the ordinary
conscience. But the same free-wheeling,
expedient tactics at home cut across the national ethic. He got into trouble because he was never
tuned in to the fundamental constitutional considerations
which, as we have seen, is the glue that holds this nation
together. No one really cared about his
sharp tax practices, or even the political funds, not as a basis of
impeachment, anyway. We forgive human
weakness, except when it attacks the basis on which the nation was
founded. As a matter of fact, we have
just witnessed politics in its finest hour, where the balance of forces between
the legislative executive and judicial branches of government really
worked. Too bad we won’t be seeing more
of that.”
“You
want more of that kind of national nightmare?” I asked in astonishment.
“It
is invigorating,” Lapius said. “But certainly I don’t want it on that
scale. But the bustle of politics it’s
healthy. Unfortunately the political
arena is being displaced by administrative power inflicted on us by Congress. There is no give and take in administrative
law. The only recourse is to the
courts. I wager that in the next score
years there will be less political than judicial turmoil. Once people realize that they can’t untangle
the intricate web of overlapping law that binds us dictatorially they will take
to the courts in great debates, and that will be a tragedy.”
“Why
that more tragic than this?”
“Because
the Supreme Court doesn’t allow its deliberations to be telecast,” Lapius said mournfully.
“Where are you going?” Lapius asked, as I started towards the door.
“To the local Pub to watch Kojak.” I said, waving goodbye.