Cokie Roberts: Dinner-Party Diplomacy
With barely more than a year and a half left in his term, George W. Bush has finally pulled out a centuries-old weapon in the political arsenal of Washington power players: the dinner party. As politicians of both parties emerge from evenings at the White House impressed with their host (and themselves), they ask the same question: What took the President so long? Here's an affable man with an engaging wife; you'd think he would have used the power of the invitation years ago. Intimate gatherings in the family quarters dazzle even the most hardened pols. It's probably no accident that Democratic Senator Ken Salazar signed on to the immigration-reform bill soon after his dinner there.
Dinner-party diplomacy didn't suit George Washington's palate. While the food was good--"roast beef, veal, turkey, ducks, fowls, jams, etc.; puddings, jellies, oranges, apples, nuts, almonds, figs, raisins, and a variety of wines and punch," recorded one guest--the host often sat in complete silence. It fell to others to set the table for key compromises in Washington's first term. When the first Congress reached an impasse over two issues--where to locate the permanent capital city and how to pay off the Revolutionary War debt--Thomas Jefferson asked Alexander Hamilton and James Madison to share a meal at which the three men struck a bargain: the Northern states would agree to locate the capital in the South, and the Southern states would assent to the Federal Government's assumption of the debt, even though most of the South had already paid up. The nascent nation survived to fight another day. Later, because of the power granted the central government, Jefferson distanced himself from the deal. Maybe his dislike of it persuaded him to avoid social settings that could yield bipartisan agreements; at his informal White House dinners, he invited guests from only one party at a time. Or maybe, in typical Jeffersonian fashion, he preferred to say one thing to his partisans, another to the opposition.
But one of the President's official entertainments set off an international incident. In 1803, when the new British ambassador, Anthony Merry, and his wife Elizabeth arrived for their first official dinner, Jefferson, no friend of the Crown, determined to insult them. He not only invited their French counterparts, though the two countries were at war, but also escorted Dolley Madison, rather than Mrs. Merry, to the dinner table. The ambassador's personal secretary claimed that the affront caused the War of 1812. Though that's a stretch, "the Merry Affair" certainly contributed to the continued bad blood between the young U.S. and the former mother country....
In recent years, the role of hostess has fallen out of favor. Members of Congress dash from fund raisers in D.C. to town meetings in their districts, leaving little time for "pleasant company." But one invitation remains a draw: dinner at the White House. Now, let's see if George Bush can use the seductive setting to persuade politicians to come together on policy.
Read entire article at Time Magazine
Dinner-party diplomacy didn't suit George Washington's palate. While the food was good--"roast beef, veal, turkey, ducks, fowls, jams, etc.; puddings, jellies, oranges, apples, nuts, almonds, figs, raisins, and a variety of wines and punch," recorded one guest--the host often sat in complete silence. It fell to others to set the table for key compromises in Washington's first term. When the first Congress reached an impasse over two issues--where to locate the permanent capital city and how to pay off the Revolutionary War debt--Thomas Jefferson asked Alexander Hamilton and James Madison to share a meal at which the three men struck a bargain: the Northern states would agree to locate the capital in the South, and the Southern states would assent to the Federal Government's assumption of the debt, even though most of the South had already paid up. The nascent nation survived to fight another day. Later, because of the power granted the central government, Jefferson distanced himself from the deal. Maybe his dislike of it persuaded him to avoid social settings that could yield bipartisan agreements; at his informal White House dinners, he invited guests from only one party at a time. Or maybe, in typical Jeffersonian fashion, he preferred to say one thing to his partisans, another to the opposition.
But one of the President's official entertainments set off an international incident. In 1803, when the new British ambassador, Anthony Merry, and his wife Elizabeth arrived for their first official dinner, Jefferson, no friend of the Crown, determined to insult them. He not only invited their French counterparts, though the two countries were at war, but also escorted Dolley Madison, rather than Mrs. Merry, to the dinner table. The ambassador's personal secretary claimed that the affront caused the War of 1812. Though that's a stretch, "the Merry Affair" certainly contributed to the continued bad blood between the young U.S. and the former mother country....
In recent years, the role of hostess has fallen out of favor. Members of Congress dash from fund raisers in D.C. to town meetings in their districts, leaving little time for "pleasant company." But one invitation remains a draw: dinner at the White House. Now, let's see if George Bush can use the seductive setting to persuade politicians to come together on policy.