… Petraeus should not have been chatting with Katie Couric about policy, or trying to convince the American public of anything. The absence of so much as a raised eyebrow among journalists showed how much the boundary between strategic policy, which is supposed to be the realm of the civilian commander in chief and his advisors, and military tactics, which are the province of the armed forces, had already eroded. (Harper’s Magazine, May 2011, page 34)
Something is clearly wrong with our relationship with the military, and the problem runs deeper than arch missives to the troops, presumptuous TV-interview banter, or the propriety of combat-unit questionnaires. Our generals are getting bolder … The military isn’t trying to ramp up spending. It’s interjecting its voice into the sphere of statecraft as it never has before. (Harper’s Magazine, May 2011, page 35)
I learned to appreciate the sheer power of verbs from a professor whose classes I took at Portland State University. Verbs, he told us, move the story forward. I agree. And operating with that definition, last week was quite a verb.
Tornadoes wiped parts of Alabama right off the map. A couple of unremarkable youngsters stood before billions of viewers in a ceremony that cost millions of dollars and did at least their fair share of the heavy lifting toward ensuring that the storybook continues for many more chapters. A big blastoff into outer space was scheduled and then, suddenly, cancelled. I was relieved that the launch was postponed because I had, for no good reason, a horrible feeling about it. There was, of course, a lot of hoopla over the president’s birth certificate, and while I think almost anything Donald Trump says is absurd, I cannot help but wonder why the president waited until last week to come forward with it. To me it seems like a pretty simple thing to do.
Instead, Barack Obama did what he does better than anyone else in the business: Speaking in the voice of the national disciplinarian, he played the role of the man on the stage holding the hat, the hat itself and the rabbit that emerged from the hat without a single misstep. He dismissed the entire issue of his birth certificate as nothing more than a distraction staged by his opponents to … what? What’s the verb there?
It seems to me that Obama was the chief beneficiary of last week’s distraction, because lost in the fog and the fuzz left behind by Queen Elizabeth and Mother Nature and Congresswoman Crosshairs’ heroic husband – the astronaut – hid the not-so-sexy story about the sinister (in my opinion) merging and blending and mixing up of two entities that should, again, in my opinion, be completely separate: national defense and national intelligence.
I suppose you could argue that the mostly quiet shuffle that took place last week is a smart move on Obama’s part. Maybe putting a general in charge of the country’s premiere intelligence agency while making the former chief intelligence bureaucrat the new secretary of defense is a savvy way of “streamlining” what we know and what we do.
I’d argue that it’s yet another sign that the verb that drives our national narrative forward is a word that is not a verb at all but perhaps should be: war.
Katie Couric, thank God, will soon leave her post at the helm of the CBS Evening News, which she’s done her best to transform into the PM version of Today, but last week, while she was still in charge, she was dumbing down the national conversation by interviewing the royal family’s event planner and awarding, on the air, special seating to a family that, in spite of the fact that it appeared to not have a pot to piss in, had scraped together the cash – or the credit – to travel to London for the wedding.
And as she was doing that, Jim Lehrer, who has not – again, thank God – announced his retirement, made the rearranging of the defense-intelligence seating chart the second story on The Newshour – the first being the tornadoes. In an admirable attempt to analyze the news, he had three guests seated there at his table. There was a man from the army, a woman from some foundation or another and a third man whose affiliation I did not catch.
Each of the three guests was given a minute or two to offer observations about the reshuffling, and the fawning put forth by each made me wonder if the guests had gotten a little mixed up, a little confused, and imagined for a moment or two that they were not on with Jim Lehrer but with Charlie Rose. The president could not have made better choices, said the guests. These guys are so talented, so smart. Man oh man, the current secretary of defense, now there’s a tough act to follow, but Obama really came through on this one. Wow, wow, wow!
To which Jim Lehrer said: Really? None of you have any concerns about any of these appointments? Silence. None at all?
It was at this point that the guests probably realized they were not on with Charlie Rose, because Jim Lehrer – whose expression says more than an entire presidential speech – unleashed his glance, which I think should be trademarked if not patented. It’s like a smile, only it’s not. It’s kind of upside down, but it shifts and transforms in mere seconds. It is not a look of endearment or tenderness. Last week, slowly, reluctantly, the guests began to waver, cracking a bit – as sycophants tend to do when they sense that the tables are about to turn against them. Well maybe, one said. Followed by: You know, my one area of even the slightest concern … And so on and so forth.
I don’t mind admitting that I didn’t really pay attention to what the guest experts said beyond that point, and here’s why. They had to be scolded by Jim Lehrer to offer up even the most paltry bit of critical analysis. Which says to me that their commentary is more about self-preservation and self-promotion than anything else.
And that’s fine, because the reason I tune into The PBS Newshour is not usually for the guests but for Jim Lehrer and Gwen Ifill. Jim Lehrer delivered in his usual, simple manner, with a single observation that to me explained everything: There’s nobody new in this story.
