Newt Lite
Try to remember, if you can
for a moment, the old Newt Gingrich. He was a man who liked to talk very
grandly, often describing his political program as "renewing American
civilization" and replacing what he referred to as "the bureaucratic welfare
state" with a new kind of society. The 1994 election that brought him to power
was a "revolution" that he cast in terms of Braveheart , a gory movie
about freedom fighters in medieval Scotland. Republican traitors knew what to
expect. Gingrich blamed liberals for sensational murders and called the
Clintons the enemies of "normal Americans." He drew cosmological charts with
himself at the center and got very fat.
The new
Newt, by contrast, is a humble fellow. In his book Lessons Learned the Hard
Way , he presents himself as shorn of his old harshness and grandiosity, as
well as of 30 or 40 pounds. On the cover, he appears in faded jeans, hiking
boots, and a leather jacket, smiling as he leans against a post-and-rail fence,
bathed in soft filtered sunlight. The few specific proposals he makes are
stunning in their modesty. For instance, Gingrich advocates diabetes screening
as a way to save Medicare money and thinks it is especially important for
Native Americans, who are highly susceptible to the disease, to monitor their
blood pressure. He admits to mistakes such as failing to keep his mouth shut at
several points, mismanaging the House Republicans, and underestimating his
opponents. He describes himself as tolerant of internal dissent, even
identifying with the GOP rebels who plotted a coup against him last summer.
Seeing Newt so shrunken is somewhat disheartening. There's
a poignant moment in his mostly very dull book when, as his career is being
torn apart by the House Ethics Committee investigation into his college course,
he describes visiting one of his favorite places, the American Museum of
Natural History in New York. Communing with dinosaurs revives his spirits. In
the old days, Newt didn't need fossils to spur him on. He had the courage of
his convictions and of his boorish aggression. Now he comes across like a
victim of some Dale Carnegie re-education camp--it's as if he's constantly
reminding himself of his image-consultant's lessons in seeming nice. Where the
old Newt was a compelling meanie, the new one offers anodyne platitudes and
empty uplift. He calls at one point in his book for "a serious conversation
about our national future." At another point he writes of the Republican
agenda, "What we have to offer people ... is strength and adventure, the
experience of a new level of life-enhancing energy, and love of a great
country." This could be anyone talking--Dick Gephardt, Hillary Clinton, or
Marianne Williamson.
What
happened to transform the raging bull into Caspar Milquetoast? There are
various theories. Some think Gingrich has modified his behavior because he is
still fighting for survival, trying to appease the House Republicans who
plotted to overthrow him and might plot again. I've heard others suggest that
he is an undiagnosed manic-depressive coming off a three-year spree. Perhaps
the most common view is that Newt is merely positioning for 2000, trying to
diminish his stratospheric "negatives" in preparation for a presidential
run.
None of these explanations quite cuts it.
Whatever his past gaps in judgment, Gingrich is too smart to think he has a
realistic chance of being elected president. His unpopularity is deep and
indelible. If he does run in the 2000 primaries, it will be as a way of
gracefully exiting his job as speaker. (He has to step down in 2002 anyway,
according to the rule he set.) In fact, I don't think Gingrich's transformation
is all that calculated. To be sure, his book is disingenuous at points. He says
the coup plot was merely a cry for attention by the GOP freshman class of 1994,
not a serious attempt at getting rid of him. That's ridiculous. And nowhere
does he mention one of his biggest mistakes--the $4.5 million book deal.
Gingrich returned the advance, but he still wrote (or caused to be written) two
books, of which this is the second and more nearly readable. But Gingrich's
arrogance is genuinely diminished. He truly seems a different person.
I think
the new personality-modified Newt is mainly the product of his shattering
experiences in 1995 and 1996. Gingrich tried to lead a revolution and ended up
with his head in the guillotine. In a way, this catastrophe was the result of a
misunderstanding. Gingrich was never of the same mind as the radical freshmen.
Before the Contract With America, he was not notably anti-government. To the
contrary, he thought the GOP had suffered as a result of its foolish opposition
to popular federal programs. But Gingrich had a swollen ego. He thought of
himself as a world historical figure, so when the election of 1994 gave birth
to a movement, he stepped forward to lead it. In fact, it drove him. He was
thus the person standing in the intersection when the would-be conservative
revolution smashed into the moderate reality of American politics.
Gingrich is now picking himself up off the asphalt. His
plan for the future is to stay out of traffic. Beyond that, he proposes the
Republican Party support something he calls "entrepreneurial government." He
would let the private sector act wherever possible and get the government to
act more like a business. This is probably what Republicans would advocate if
they were smart. Entrepreneurial government is compatible with tax cuts and
does not demand an assault on purposes and programs that the voting majority
regards as essential. It is a politics with great potential appeal to an
electorate increasingly dominated by an independent, stock-owning middle class.
This kind of politics does not alienate women. If the GOP could adopt it as a
general approach while distancing itself from aggressive social conservatism,
Democrats would have reason to fear at the presidential as well as the
congressional level.
But Newt's entrepreneurial
idea, which stresses flexibility and innovation in how government discharges
its role, contradicts the libertarian urge to have government simply butt out.
And Gingrich still wants to have it both ways--or at least to make the class of
'94 think he does. According to his numbers, government at all levels currently
consumes about 38 percent of personal income. Gingrich proposes reducing it to
just 25 percent. If you subtract the 16 percent that goes to state and local
spending, that means the federal government would defend the country, pay for
electricity to light the Capitol dome, and do not much else. But that's not all
Gingrich intends to have it do. He wants to "protect" Medicare, dole out
hundreds of billions in highway subsidies, and fund research into diseases that
affect Republicans.
Here Newt Lite has something
in common with Newt Heavy. His interesting ideas don't quite add up.
