COMMUNICATIONS AND MEDIA
Goodwill Lacking
By William Powers, National Journal
� National Journal Group Inc.
Friday, Dec. 20, 2002
As Trent Lott turned on the spit and everyone waited for him to be done,
the media chatter ran to what a marvelous event this had been and, gosh,
why didn't we think of it earlier? "Why did it take so long for most major
newspapers and networks to jump on the controversy, even after it was
reported?" asked CNN's Howard Kurtz. "The way this story sat around for
several days last week before the politicians turned their blood up to boil
is... a bit suspicious," wrote Michael Kinsley in Time.
If goodwill were a bank account, Trent Lott had a shockingly low balance.
Why the Lott story took off so slowly is a good question. But just as good,
and in some ways more intriguing, is the opposite question of why this
story took off at all, and once it did, why it had such staying power.
After all, Lott is not the first national political figure to say or do
something that most people found deeply wrong. In a television interview
just last year, Sen. Robert C. Byrd twice used the phrase "white niggers."
But when Byrd apologized, the story went away. There are countless other
examples of pols who spoke or behaved offensively, performed some act of
contrition, and returned to business as usual.
Why do some transgressors become such pariahs that they are driven out of
public life (think Jim Wright, Bob Packwood), while others not only survive
their ignominy but go on to prosper (Bill Clinton)? Every scandal is
different, of course, and the rules of the game change over time. It's hard
to imagine Ted Kennedy, or any other national figure, surviving a
Chappaquiddick-like incident today.
But there is one factor that plays a huge role in all these stories, and
yet it has been scarcely mentioned in the last few weeks: goodwill. I mean
that free-floating sense of generosity and tolerance that allows us to
excuse errors, often very grievous ones, made by certain public figures.
Over time, as they emerge into public consciousness, some pols manage to
build up major stores of this stuff, and it keeps them afloat in a time of
scandal. Others accrue little or no goodwill, and when these unfortunate
souls get in trouble, they sink like a stone.
Based on the events of the last week, we can safely place Lott among the
goodwill-deficient. It's true his story took several days to get traction,
but once it did, it soon became clear that very few people in politics or
the media had warm feelings of any kind about the Senate majority leader.
If goodwill were a bank account, Lott had a shockingly low balance,
especially for someone who has been in public life for so long and risen so
high. Why?
Goodwill is abstract and elusive. Sometimes you don't even realize someone
has it until the person gets in trouble and you find yourself in a
forgiving mood. But there are certain identifiable personal traits that
greatly increase a politician's chances of building goodwill, and this week
seems a good time to note a few of them:
1. Heroism. Combat veterans are magnets for goodwill, and authentic war
heroes are off the charts. Quick, which of the "Keating Five" not only put
that nasty little scandal behind him but went on to become a political rock
star and presidential contender? Answer: John McCain, the former POW.
Earlier this year, there was a brief media frenzy over revelations about
former Sen. Bob Kerrey's role in a massacre of civilians in wartime
Vietnam. Today, Kerrey remains an elder statesman, frequently appearing on
TV and occasionally mentioned as presidential material. But then, he also
won the Medal of Honor in Vietnam, and lost part of a leg. Goodwill doesn't
get any richer.
2. Principles. Most politicians are wind socks, but the few who are not,
those who appear to stand by their convictions come what may, build massive
reserves of goodwill. Barry Goldwater and Ronald Reagan were both in this
category. So was Paul Wellstone. It's hard to think of many current members
of Congress who have joined these avatars of principle. Though Lott's
tribute to Sen. Strom Thurmond suggested he had held fast to certain
longtime beliefs, they were repugnant beliefs, and thus didn't qualify.
3. Durability. There's a kind of goodwill that comes from having survived a
difficult challenge, or having just hung in there. Anyone who has run for
president gets goodwill points for trying. Seasoned scandal veterans like
Hillary Clinton often receive grudging respect, and a little goodwill,
merely for having toughed out their scandals. After he resigned in
disgrace, Richard Nixon built up a strange kind of goodwill for sticking
with the statesman shtick and maintaining a semblance of personal dignity.
This is survivor's goodwill. Ancient members of Congress, such as Byrd and
Thurmond, get enormous goodwill from their sheer durability, and can say or
do almost anything and get away with it.
4. Charm. We cut certain pols a lot of slack because they make the public
arena more humane and fun. Bob Dole's dark sense of humor turned him into a
kind of folk hero, a favorite on the late-night talk shows. Thanks to this,
and his war injury, he might well have survived an incident of Lottesque
proportions, had it happened to him. Dan Rostenkowski's enormous
personality didn't keep him out of prison (goodwill is not all-powerful),
but it's the reason "Rosty" persists warmly in Washington's memory.
None of the above ever seemed to apply to Trent Lott. He rose without
acquiring any appreciable goodwill among his colleagues, the media, or the
public at large. And there was nothing to cushion his fall.
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