Big Job; Wrong Man
2:30 PM, Feb 8, 2013 • By GEOFFREY NORMAN
It can be tempting, if you are not a Washington insider or intimate, to put the Chuck Hagel business out of mind. Or try, anyway. He did so badly in the confirmation hearings that, as Stephen Hayes writes, “any senator who takes the advise-and-consent role seriously had to have real concerns about [Hagel’s] basic competence.” Still, presidents are entitled to appoint the people they want, you think, even when they are, manifestly, not the best possible choice or even up to the job. The republic has survived a lot of bad cabinet officers who, like Hagel, had baggage. And like them, he will serve and then move on. As will the country. It isn’t the Supreme Court, you think. It’s not for life.
But, then, this is not just any old cabinet post. Hagel will not be running the Department of Commerce. He will be the secretary of defense. The history of this post is not a roll call of political hacks but of very large and sometimes tragic figures, some of whom the nation is fortunate to have survived.
To reassure skeptical senators, Mr. Hagel said, near the end of his confirmation hearings, “I won’t be in a policy making position.”
But he will be. And if history is a guide, he might be something more.
The first secretary of defense killed himself and left behind, as a suicide note, hand written verses from Sophocles’ Ajax.
A controversial figure to this day, James Forrestal was undeniably ground down by the hard bureaucratic struggles that followed World War Two and were fought over the size and shape of the nation’s defenses. Forrestal wanted more money for defense and a stronger Navy. He lost these battles and he made merciless enemies, to include the columnist Drew Pearson. He was a patient at Bethesda Naval Hospital, suffering from what was politely called “exhaustion,” after President Truman had asked for and accepted his resignation, when he jumped to his death.
Forrestal was the first and his ordeal by far the grimmest of any who have held the job. But others have also had it very hard. The longest serving secretary of defense was Robert McNamara. He arrived in Washington as the brightest on John Kennedy’s team of New Frontiersmen. He would bring a new way – a tough, analytical way – of doing things to the Pentagon. His legacy, when he left, was Vietnam, which was to many minds not Johnson’s War but McNamara’s. He was guilty of mismanagement; the one thing none would have expected and which he, himself, would have thought unimaginable and unforgivable. He was ruined and it was impossible for most to feel any sympathy for him in his disgrace.
Donald Rumsfeld held the job twice, served almost as long as McNamara, and left with his reputation almost as tattered. He came to the Pentagon eager to challenge all the old assumptions. He was, for a time, a darling of the media. He had helped rescue people trapped in the Pentagon after the September 11th attack. He had orchestrated the quick takedown of Iraq and Saddam Hussein. And then, things went bad and he could not at first acknowledge it or then come up with an answer. As the conquest of Iraq turned trended toward catastrophe, some of the senior officers he had challenged – not to say bullied – began publicly to blame him and call for his resignation. And eventually, after being asked by President George W. Bush, he offered it.
Rumsfeld, like McNamara, had most certainly been in what Chuck Hagel calls “a policy making position.” And, in fact, that phrase doesn’t do full justice to just how influential those men were. They shaped war-fighting doctrine by the weapons they chose to develop and procure and the senior officers they chose to promote.