The big question is, “Why is Michael Scanlon smiling?”
There was something uncomfortably incongruous about having a man who had just pleaded guilty to a count of what amounts to public corruption come out of the courthouse smiling as if he had just switched his car insurance to Geico. And it is even harder to imagine when you consider that he is facing five years in jail and will have to part with $19 million in restitution for his crimes. Still, the former press aide to then-Majority whip Tom DeLay was smiling as if he had just won the lottery. And maybe he did, because the plea agreement makes clear that Scanlon, who has been described as a juvenile delinquent by one GOP member of Congress, has apparently made a deal to save himself and sink his party.
Scanlon, of course, is the 35-year-old Hill aide-turned-public relations executive-turned-con man, who teamed up with one-time über-lobbyist Jack Abramoff to shake down unsuspecting Indian tribes for millions of dollars. Abramoff has been indicted and Scanlon has cut a deal. But what sounds like a run-of-the-mill Washington tale of abuse of power in the pursuit of money will turn out to be a story about the moral collapse of a political movement. The Scanlon deal is really the death knell for the Republican Revolution of 1994.
A trial, whether involving Abramoff or whoever else may fall into the abyss created by Scanlon's cooperation, will present a conga line of superstars from the days of the revolution: DeLay, of course; Ralph Reed; and Grover Norquist, among others. This will not happen just because these people knew each other, did business together, or were friends; it will be because they were central to an enterprise that came to see itself as immune to the usual rules of the game. It is hubris writ large. And that, ultimately, is the basic problem afflicting the GOP today.
While they may seem like disparate and disconnected story lines, the problems facing the White House and the GOP leadership in Congress are the result of the same mindset that got Scanlon and Abramoff in trouble. Republican successes at the ballot box (and Democratic bumbling in response) created not just a sense of validation for the GOP but a sense of entitlement and an urgency to seize the moment. There are echoes everywhere.
“I don't really understand some Republicans running around depressed …This is the greatest opportunity we've had in our lives,” DeLay said in the aftermath of the very close 2000 election.
“You asked if I feel free? Let me put it this way. I earned capital in the campaign, political capital, and now I intend to spend it,” said George W. Bush said after his re-election victory in 2004. “It is my style.”
Then there's this exchange from June 20, 2002. Scanlon to Abramoff: “Hey good day all around. We wrapped up the Sag-Chip crap -- We hit Coush -- I think for $3 mil -- and we are working on the Agua Caliente presentation -- should be tight.”
Abramoff, in response: “Thanks so much! You are a great partner. What I love about our relationship is that when one of us is down the other is there. We are going to make $ for years together.”
The Sag-Chip, as those familiar with the players in the scandal may be able to guess, are the Saginaw-Chippewa tribe of Michigan, which lost millions to Abramoff and Scanlon. The “Coush” to whom Scanlon refers is the Coushattas tribe of Louisiana, which also took a financial beating.
So while the fever continues to build about whether the president and his administration conned the country into an unnecessary war in Iraq, there is little question that the administration was well-persuaded about its rightness long before 9/11, or that a lot of people saw a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity to wage it. Because, as they saw it, it was their time.
And now comes Scanlon, whose deal will likely reveal stories about trips to St. Andrews and the Super Bowl; about falling-down-drunk nights on Pennsylvania Avenue, when the House picked up the tab for members and their staffs; about money funneled through non-profits to hide both its sources and its aims. We may learn how political contributions can earn you a mention in the Congressional Record and scare off your business adversaries.
We could be on the verge of one of the most rancid tales to course through our political veins in a long time. And it happened because these masters of the universe regard themselves as immune, because of all the political capital in their pockets.
But the revolution seems over, and the revolutionaries were right about at least one thing: Their power was momentary and their opportunity was limited. The questions now are, how much did they use that opportunity to help themselves? And how much did they hurt the country in the process? The witness may answer.
Terence Samuel is a political writer in Washington, D.C.
