Mr. Clarke Goes to Washington

Only in Washington D.C. could you conceive of a former bureaucrat having groupies.

But here I was, playing hooky from a looming journal article deadline, forsaking a gloriously sunny spring day, walking eagerly toward the Hart Senate Office Building just to see one of my heroes, Richard Clarke, testify before the 9/11 Commission on March 24. Even before his book, Against all Enemies, came out recently, creating a stir because of its frank and often critical appraisal of the Bush I-Clinton-Bush II “war on terror,” I knew that Clarke was a dedicated, intelligent and honest civil servant. As the country's top counter-terrorism official for many years he was known for working tirelessly and in relative obscurity trying to move an often sluggish bureaucracy into urgent action against a new and growing threat.

While I wanted to see Clarke in person, I admit that I also was eager to plant myself in the midst of a quintessentially Washington moment. All the ingredients for high drama were there: an upstart paper-pusher able to reveal the truth at last; “bi-partisan” commission members ready either to praise the star witness, or to bury him; the usual media mob; and the family members of the victims, watching over the commission they created, like a somber conscience.

As an historian, I was intrigued as well with the concept of one person making a large difference. In the nineteenth century, the Scottish historian Thomas Carlyle said, “No great man lives in vain. The history of the world is but the biography of great men.” Of course, the “great man” theory of history is as fashionable today as a tight corset. When I was starting out as a historian, it was the “new social history” that was all the rage, looking at the “little people,” examining societies from “the bottom up.” Nowadays there is an overflowing clothes rack of historical fashions, from empiricism, micro history and psychohistory to studies using gender, race, language and the environment as a frame of reference. Even so, from everyday life and in the historical sources we can see much evidence that “great people,” or at least exceptional ones, play large roles in shifting the currents of history. So if the butterfly in chaos theory could produce a tornado an ocean away with the flapping of its wings, what would a condor be capable of? Looking back on Clarke's testimony, would future historians see it as a turning point in the Bush re-election effort? I wanted to see for myself.

The morning witnesses were CIA Director George Tenet and former National Security Advisor Samuel Berger. The atmosphere was routine as they droned their predictable, cautious and often vague answers. After a short break for lunch the hearing room began to buzz as the 9/11 family members took their reserved seats in first four rows behind the witness table, the rest of the gallery filled to standing-room, and dozens of camera lenses waited for Clarke. After he sat down, he raised his right hand to be sworn in by commission chairman Thomas H. Kean. The only sound beside “Do you solemnly swear…” was the soft fluttering of camera shutters, sounding like a sudden spring shower. With his opening words, Clarke signaled that this would not be a routine hearing, that he was not your garden-variety government official.

I welcome these hearings because of the opportunity that they provide to the American people to better understand why the tragedy of 9-11 happened, and what we must do to prevent a re-occurrence.

I also welcome the hearings because it is finally a forum where I can apologize to the loved ones of the victims of 9-11.

To those who are here in the room, to those who are watching on television, your government failed you, those entrusted with protecting you failed you, and I failed you. We tried hard, but that doesn't matter because we failed.

And for that failure, I would ask -- once all the facts are out -- for your understanding and for your forgiveness.

My jaw dropped; I gasped quietly. Who could have believed it? A high official, taking blame, accepting responsibility, asking forgiveness ! This was not the cynical and self-serving Washington official most Americans have come to know and dislike. This was something out of a hokey Hollywood movie: “Mr. Clarke Goes to Washington .”

It took some time for the honest and heartfelt statement to sink in among the commission members: politicians normally don't do “sincere.” But about 45 minutes later, after Clarke had talked about George W. Bush's lack of urgency before 9/11 in dealing the mounting al-Qaeda threat, commission member Richard Ben-Veniste interrupted his own line of questioning to tell Clarke: “I want to express my appreciation for the fact that you have come before this commission and stated in front of the world your apology for what went wrong. To my knowledge, you are the first to do that.” And out of nowhere, there came a loud burst of applause, mostly from the family members. Like the rest of the country, they craved honesty, openness, and accountability. Clarke was the one who gave this simple gift to them. I was clapping, too.

It was as if the family members and other Americans had a moment of relief from the frustration and anger brought on by the Bush administration's handling of the 9/11 inquiry. When family members proposed the idea of a commission, the White House initially refused. Then the commission was packed with what many family members saw as safe, Washington insiders who would not pursue rigorous lines of inquiry. When the commission asked for an extension on its mandate so that it could properly complete its work, again, Bush and company balked at first. When one 9/11 families' group protested the Bush campaign ad featuring scenes of the destroyed Twin Towers, Republican mouthpieces called them partisans, and worse. Even on this day, one subtext of the hearings was the absence of National Security Advisor Condoleeza Rice, who refused the invitation to testify in public. (She had already been interviewed behind closed doors.) As one family member said during a break, “She owed us this [testifying in person]. She owed the 3,000 who died and the American people an explanation.”

While Clarke's candor was a breath of fresh air, as the hearing progressed politics-as-usual returned with the slithering questions of the Republican commission members. Some queries were pointed and dripping poison, like those of James R. Thompson and Fred F. Fielding, and others were cloaked in chummy smiles, like those of John F. Lehman. Lehman seemed to be befuddled by the contrast between Clarke's previous testimony to the commission and the contents of his book, which Lehman said amounted to a “rounding, devastating attack” on Bush.

Clarke addressed all queries and veiled implications with calm and precision, explaining, at one point, that part of the problem was that while he was working for Bush, he was asked to put the best face on policies he thought were faulty. But his voice filled with conviction and rose in volume as he said the reason his views in the book contrasted so much with his previous testimony was because none of the commissioners had asked him about Iraq .

In the 15 hours of testimony, no one asked me what I thought about the president's invasion of Iraq . And the reason I am strident in my criticism of the president of the United States is because by invading Iraq -- something I was not asked about by the commission, it's something I chose write about a lot in the book -- by invading Iraq the president of the United States has greatly undermined the war on terrorism.

For one second, then another, then another, dead silence. No Republican commission member was going to ask about Iraq today, either.

When the questioning ended, and the chairman thanked Clarke for his testimony, again there was applause. And not only that, but the family members rushed to Clarke as he rose from his chair. Some hugged him, others shook his hand, and still others watched off to the side, smiling.

Amidst the crowd milling outside the hearing room, I saw one of the first family members who had approached Clarke, a woman with blonde hair and striking eyes. It was Beverly Eckert, one of the most active of her group, who was in fact on the Family Steering Committee for the 9/11 Commission.

“What did you say to Mr. Clarke after the hearing?” I asked.

She paused, emotion starting to cloud her clear eyes. “I told him that I forgave him.” She took a breath. My vision was suddenly fuzzy: “And what did he say?” Her voice broke slightly: “He said that it meant a lot, coming from me.”

In the minutes that followed, words flowed, carrying the pent-up emotions, from her and from me. I told her of my wonder at Clarke's apology, and she said how much courage it took for him to make it. She told of how people attacked the families' groups for pressing this inquiry, and for criticizing the Bush 9/11 commercial. “You would not believe the kinds of things people said…. They said all we wanted was revenge. We're not here for vengeance. We're here for accountability, so that we can learn from past mistakes and this won't happen again.” She told me about the Steering Committee's web site and the list of questions the family members would like answered.

Eckert's husband was Sean Rooney. They had been married for twenty-one years, and she first started dating him when she was sixteen. Then on Sept. 11, 2001, she spoke to him for the last time on the telephone. He told her of the fire and confusion, and then there was a loud crash. The deep love Eckert shared with her husband has fueled a dizzying range of action. Thanks to her and her fellow family members, airliner cockpit doors have been strengthened, future high-rises will be safer, and big chunks of the truth about 9/11 are being uncovered by the commission, often under duress.

As I walked across Capitol Hill that afternoon toward my subway station, I had to admit that while fashions change in history, there is still room to write about – and wonder at – the power and courage of a great man, or a great woman.