Investigative reporter and essayist Russ Baker
is a longtime contributor to TomPaine.com.
He is also the founder of the Real News
Project , a new not-for-profit
investigative journalism outlet. He can be reached at russ@russbaker.com.
We knew this was big back in March, when a
court sent ex-Rep. Randy “Duke” Cunningham, R-Calif.—convicted
of taking $2.4 million in bribes from military contractors—off
to serve eight years in prison, the most severe sentence ever
handed out to a member of Congress. From then on, the
sleaze chain has been metastasizing. More members of the House
might be implicated—and even top CIA officials. Now it is
being described as the largest federal corruption scandal in a
century. With stories of prostitutes and all-night poker games
at the Watergate hotel, it is one scandal that truly is
deserving of the "-gate" suffix that has become such a dreary
journalistic cliché.
No matter how big the affair grows, though, it is likely to
follow in the path of so many of its predecessors—distracting
public attention from a larger and more important reality:
Today, “the largest corruption scandal in a century” is not
WatergateGate—it is the everyday performance of the U.S.
government. The worst sleaze in Washington is mainly legal, as
the old saying goes; and that includes the sorry state of the
entire intelligence apparatus—beyond whether the #3 CIA official improperly participated
in those late-night, high-stakes card games.
Too many in the media treat a juicy mess like the
Cunningham Affair as a shocking aberration. Consider the
wording in a New York Times article on Sunday, which
described “a growing suspicion among some lawmakers that
corrupt practices may have influenced decision-making in
Congress and at executive-branch agencies.”
Who would have thought? Don’t the editors read their own
paper? It’s been clear for some time that corruption in the
Bush administration has exceeded a Washington standard that
already was pretty tawdry. Some of the stories are known
already, especially to TomPaine.com
readers: White House procurement chief taken out in handcuffs
in connection with a sprawling lobbying corruption
investigation; the vice president’s chief of staff indicted for perjury; the unseemly setup between Bush’s first
FEMA director and Brownie, the incompetent neophyte who
replaced him.
But many of the larger misdeeds have gone unreported, in
part because—technically illegal or not—they represent
business as usual in Republican Washington today. Virtually
every federal agency is now captive to the corporate interests
it is supposed to regulate. The reach of corporate influence
has even compromised the science agencies on whose
fact-finding and truth-telling crucial questions of national
safety and even survival depend.
And then there is Congress. A quick comparison of committee
activity and floor votes with campaign finance reports tells
the story. Never mind the now-controversial “earmarks,” in
which legislators secretly slip goodies at the last minute
into larger bill packages. The real scandal is going on in
plain sight. The entities that give the most get the most—and
the goodies keep on coming. That outfits like Halliburton can survive a never-ending
series of contracting horror shows with their federal contacts
intact says a lot about Congress’s willful abrogation of
fiduciary duty on behalf of the taxpayer.
The main mistake Randy Cunningham made was accepting the
goodies while he was still in Congress. There is no crime
involved in doing the exact same favors for government
contractors, and later joining the company’s board or getting
hired as a highly-paid lobbyist, or getting payback on a more
indirect basis. That’s the deal all over town, and some of the
most “well-respected” names in America have such
arrangements—and not all of them are Republicans. The whole
thing stinks, but what to do about it? That’s the rub.
Speaking of a rub, besides the careless greed, in the
Cunningham Caper we are blessed by the emergence of a sexual
angle worthy of a British tabloid, with the congressman
alleged to have enjoyed the favors of big-league prostitutes
in return for military contracts. Sexual peccadilloes always
get the public’s attention in a way that other misdeeds, like
accepting bribes from defense contractors, cannot. That
Cunningham and his buddies may have preferred
presumably-discreet professional company over out-of-wedlock
friends of the Gennifer Flowers ilk, makes perfect sense in an
atmosphere where holier-than-thou sanctimony cannot bear
scrutiny. That might take the story to a new level, since
these sins would have been committed by the staunchest
defenders of the "sanctity of marriage."
Those who care about the ever more brazen sellout of the
public interest over the last five years have no choice but to
take these revelations in whatever garb they come—and if
they’re scantily clad, so be it. Meanwhile, consorting with
prostitutes—the thing that will get perhaps get the most
attention—is the one thing that matters least to the future of
our body politic.
With this new WatergateGate, we must at all costs beware
the Woodward Fallacy—that sanitation is a substitute for
politics and ideas. It is the conceit of the reigning elite.
But in fact we can get rid of Cunningham and his cronies and
the rot will continue, unless change goes much
deeper to the root.