Powell is Americaâs nowhere man
ITâS BEEN ONE YEAR since Colin L. Powell left high office. Where did he go?
So sad, even tragic, is the tale of this manâs evaporation. Once, he might have made a serious run for president, under either partyâs banner. Just a few years ago, he ranked among the most-admired Americans: a proud Jamaican immigrant who pulled himself up by his bootstraps, rose through the Armyâs ranks to general, then to White House assistant, chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff and finally the first black secretary of State.
It was from this pinnacle that he crashed and burned. Outmaneuvered at every turn by the tag team of Cheney & Rumsfeld, shut out of policy on the major issues of the day, bamboozled by false intelligence on Iraq and ordered to link his credibility to the public case for a war he didnât believe in, Powell left office in tatters after George W. Bushâs first term. Republicans viewed him as too dovish. Democrats considered him untrustworthy. His pals on the Euro-diplomatic circuit saw that they had been dealing with a nowhere man, that his whispered assurances of moderation had reflected only his own views, not his governmentâs.
In his final weeks as secretary, Powell started venting his frustration. He clearly had been a key source for his old friend Bob Woodward, whose 2004 book âPlan of Attackâ detailed what Powell had been saying and even thinking about Iraq. Now he was going on the record. He told one reporter that he might not have supported the war had he known Saddam Hussein didnât have weapons of mass destruction. He told another that the Iraqi insurgency was stronger than anyone anticipated.
He quickly retracted those remarks. But it looked as if the warrior-diplomat might not go gently into his good night. Some of his friends were relieved that he might finally speak out on all the things he had kept coiled inside. Book agents and publishers lined up with lucrative offers for kiss-and-tell memoirs.
One year later, debates rage over Iraq and a dozen other matters of foreign and military policy. Powell is uniquely positioned to play a major role in those debates. Why isnât he engaged?
Last June, Powell went on âThe Daily Show with Jon Stewart.â It was one of his first TV guest spots since leaving office. Stewart is famous for his barbed attacks on Bush and the war. Surely Powell wouldnât be appearing on this show unless he had something to say.
But no, he had nothing. Explicit jabs at his old tormenters might have been beyond all expectations, but he refrained from the slightest criticism -- not so much as a wink, a nudge or a suggestive giggle. Stewart left him wide openings, but Powell took none of them. Sure, there were disagreements, Powell conceded, but hey, thatâs true in any administration. The presidentâs the boss, and heâs a swell guy. Why, he and Laura were just over at the house for dinner the previous week.
The common explanation for Powellâs reticence is that heâs a âgood soldierâ and loyal to the Bush family. But this wonât hold. He removed his uniform long ago, and a decent interval has elapsed since he took off the pinstripes too. His former colleague and another retired Army general, Brent Scowcroft, has still deeper loyalties, but they havenât kept him from inveighing against the presidentâs policies. Then again, they have made him persona non grata at the White House. Surely this couldnât be what Powell fears -- that George and Laura wonât pop by for barbecue anymore?
Powell has considerable resources. He is a strategic limited partner at Kleiner Perkins Caufield & Byers, a Silicon Valley venture-capital firm. He is actively involved with the Colin Powell Center for Policy Studies at City College of New York. He is on the boards of Howard University, the United Negro College Fund, the Boys and Girls Clubs of America and the Childrenâs Health Fund. He also has no political future to risk.
Why canât he act like an independent man? For starters, why doesnât he tell the American people, in an open forum, the same things he told Woodward in his home over cocktails?
Earlier this month, Powell was among the former secretaries of State and Defense who met with the president to âexchange viewsâ on the war. Powell said nothing. Some reporters wrote that his silence âspoke volumes.â
No, it didnât. It spoke nothing. He came off, like all the others who leapt at the chance to sit in the Cabinet Room again, as a prop in Bushâs photo-op.
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