Keith, Wm. Safire posts an erstwhile tribute to John Milton from London
today that perhaps reflects the Tower of London as much as it reflects
populist chagrin on the subject of corporate and political accountability:

Hence, Loathed Melancholy
http://www.nytimes.com/2002/07/15/opinion/15SAFI.html?todaysheadlines=&pagew
anted=print&position=top

It's a bit of a counterpoint to what Prof. Clark describes as the over
emphasis of the executive, the top dog, as opposed to the power of the
public who neglect their ability and privilege to speak up. I don't often
agree with Safire, but usually enjoy his prose.

Karen

-----Original Message-----
From: [EMAIL PROTECTED]
[mailto:[EMAIL PROTECTED]]On Behalf Of Keith Hudson
Sent: Monday, July 15, 2002 3:21 AM
To: [EMAIL PROTECTED]
Subject: The deeper sickness

Today's dog-walk reading was a thoughtful essay by Jonathan Clark in The
Times. Clark is the Hall Distinguished Professor of British History at the
University of Kansas. The essay is about the way that the male genetic
urge-for-power is still largely unrestrained by modern institutions --
something I've tried to draw attention to many times on FW.

Prof Clark is saying much the same (though without mentioning "genetic" or
"male") though more eloquently than I've been able to do. The following is
a superb distillation of one of the basic faults of the American and
English systems of governance (as representative of other developed
countries) as well containing several brilliant aperçus:

<<<<
ENRON IS THE SYMPTOM OF A DEEPER SICKNESS

Jonathan Clark



Enron, Andersen, WorldCom, Xerox, Qwest, Dick Cheney and Halliburton: the
US public is quickly satiated by such stories. Like the private peccadillos
of politicians, they soon seem obvious. As the man in the American street
often said of Clinton, we knew about it before we elected him. Corporate
malfeasance has already been priced into a market that was anyway in
decline.

When George W. Bush promised "a new era of integrity", the markets fell;
not because of what they learnt from him about the state of the economy,
but because of what they always suspected about the President. Panic is
remarkably absent.

Yet just what is so oddly familiar? Not the technical details of accounting
conventions, which are known to few. Not the creative abilities of
capitalism, to which all but anti-globalisation extremists regularly turn a
blind eye. Not even professional criminality strictly defined, which is
probably not widespread and seldom visible to the ordinary voter.

What is at issue is a larger question of governance, of corporate culture.
And not in business alone, but in structured organisations, from firms
through universities and charities to bureaucracies and governments. What
is at issue is the much older question of how executive power can be
controlled by representative or judicial institutions.

Because we have forgotten this question's history, its modern forms are
seldom recognised. They are, indeed, not always apparent. At all levels of
Western societies, formal structures of governance are apparently adhered
to as never before; nevertheless, as individuals subliminally know,
accountability counts for less and less in more and more areas.
Increasingly, executive power acts as it sees fit, beyond effective control
or redress from shareholders, customers, members, or voters.

This problem has recently had two main symptoms: increasing litigation, and
diminishing participation through the ballot box. We notice these as
separate problems; they are in reality evidence for the same phenomenon.

Individuals can and do have recourse to law. But in the US lawyers
increasingly prefer to work for rich employers rather than poor employees;
powerful corporate defendants, not weak private plaintiffs. In the absence
of the English "cab rank" convention, the frequent inability of the US
system to offer affordable redress to all but the very wealthy is causing
concern even to lawyers themselves.

Law generally provides an inadequate substitute for politics. The US has,
famously, a high concentration of lawyers and a high incidence of
litigation. The paradox is apparent only to those who discover from
personal experience that Americans are not more criminally inclined than
Europeans (indeed, often the reverse). Litigation is, however, the only
recourse where formal mechanisms of governance fail, and executives act
without sufficient restraint either from a structure of accountability or
from codes of honour. Litigation is an index of injustice more than of
lawyers' avarice.

The US electoral system is scrupulous in seeking to guarantee all
individuals the right to vote; yet the political parties so carve up the
electoral geography of constituencies that the ballot box decides less and
less. This remarkable shortcoming of US politics hardly matters since the
focus of attention is elsewhere, on the executive's image in the media.

Like most social problems in the West, this was true first, and is most
true, of the US. Its public culture admires the vigorous use of power. This
is normally blamed as a glorification of violence; but underlying it is a
fetish of executive power itself. Power, which the Puritans oddly idealised
(in the hands of God), becomes the new pornography.

Hollywood regularly and appropriately holds up the aggressive, uncontrolled
policeman, businessman, lawyer, soldier or politician for ratification.
American ideals (including, ironically, cleaning up accountancy) are to be
realised by more vigorous executive action. Authority, once it has been
defined as good, should be unconstrained.

Tom Wolfe's novel Bonfire of the Vanities was interpreted in the 1980s as
being about money: its audience wallowed in Puritan guilt about greed. But
what it showed was a man enjoying power, for whom wealth was just numbers:
it was this that made its US audience empathise with its leading character.

Outside business, too, the buzz word is "managerialism". Those who use it
seldom know from the inside how successful businesses are built up and made
to flourish. Instead, it is now a code word for swift, slick, decisive
executive action, unconstrained by inconvenient promises, expectations,
commitments, loyalties, duties.

Managerialism is a common currency. The 1960s generation which has risen to
positions of corporate authority had never condemned power. Indeed, it was
always the means by which they were to achieve their ideals, violently
sweeping away the cobwebs. There is none so authoritarian as a 1960s
radical turned present-day administrator.

The American university, a world in miniature, ought to be a model
community of altruists; but this institution too is divided between
executives (chancellors, provosts, deans) and faculty. The result is too
often long lines of communication, distrust, conflict, misunderstanding and
even litigation. Nor is it a problem confined by party: universities,
largely populated by Democrats, behave in this respect very like
corporations, dominated by Republicans.

Britain has such problems, with local variations. The establishment has
always been cleverer at brushing its unpleasantnesses under the carpet,
although a more vigorous tradition of investigative journalism and a
widespread lowmindedness weighs in the balance against the executive.

Here too, however, activists miss the point. Democratic reformers have
focused on other systemic questions, such as the extension of the
franchise, proportional representation, and devolution. The theme that
preoccupied our ancestors for centuries has fallen from public view, a
theme to which PR and devolution are only tangentially relevant: the
control of the executive.

The executive initially meant the monarchy, and constitutional thought was
long devoted to solving a conundrum: a stable, coherent State meant a
strong monarchy, yet how could this be legally defined without leaving
subjects without effective redress? Today the problem takes a form only
superficially new. Creative accountancy, spin-doctoring and "special
advisers" are but names for the same thing. The old problem is unresolved:
how is executive power to be constrained within formal structures of
governance? The US Constitution hardly helps. It must be the flagship of
democracy, but is in its essentials unreformable. Convinced of its
democratic credentials, it seems unaware of why it might appear otherwise
from the outside; with the world's largest intelligentsia, it has thrown up
no John Stuart Mill, no Lenin, to explain its libertarian message in terms
other than the vigorous executive promotion of liberty.

Executive unaccountability is more remarkable since colonial Americans were
preoccupied by the question of executive power and the threat that it might
pose to their liberties. So sensitive, indeed, that they inflated that
conventional Hanoverian Whig, George III, into an agent of "Popery and
arbitrary power", like his Stuart forerunners.

To remedy this imagined evil, a key principle of the US Constitution of
1787 was the separation of powers, and this principle is still
formulaically praised by loyal US citizens. An executive carefully isolated
from the legislature and the judiciary, however, is not necessarily better
regulated by them than an executive closely implicated in those functions
and restrained more by conventions, interactions and common decencies than
by rules.

The US is also a political experiment built to an unprecedented degree on
ideas of natural rights. Yet we currently see it reject membership of the
International Criminal Court as self-evidently unacceptable, and so it will
appear to American minds: a righteous executive is not to be held
answerable, in this case to ideas of natural rights as determined by a
wider community.

Business scandals in the US, or spin-doctoring in the UK, in turn seem
trivial compared to the weak checks on the executive built into the
emergent United States of Europe; and here too protests are unsurprisingly
ineffective. Managerialists make natural europhiles, and the old traditions
of constitutional law are silent.

Corporate malpractice is no doubt as serious as the chairman of the
Securities and Exchange Commission has warned. But if this problem were
everywhere solved, and the stream of accounting ran crystal clear, the
wider problem would remain. The political question of our time is one so
widespread that it does not have a name, and the renewed ascendancy of the
over-mighty executive is a problem without a solution in sight.

(c)The Times 15 July 2002
>>>>

Keith Hudson
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Keith Hudson,6 Upper Camden Place, Bath BA1 5HX, England
Tel:01225 312622/444881; Fax:01225 447727; E-mail: [EMAIL PROTECTED]
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