Alberto's problem: He couldn't lie enough
After almost six months of haranguing, arguing, disputing, questioning, lying, hearings, ad hominem attacks, and constitutional showdowns, Alberto Gonzales has stepped down as Attorney General, effective Sept. 17. Prior to being Attorney General, Gonzales was White House Counsel. Prior to that, he was President Bush's personal counsel. Prior to that, he was a justice on the Texas Supreme Court. Gonzales has been a Bush man through and through for at least the last ten years. Despite President Bush's assertions to the contrary, Gonzales has handled the Justice Department not with incompetence when it comes to doing his job, but incompetence when it comes to engaging in the lies and cover-ups that are a necessary part of daily life in the Bush administration.
It's no secret that the Bush administration is secretive, going to great lengths to prevent its critics and even the American people from knowing what's really going on in the White House. This tendency first became clear in the summer of 2001, when Vice President Cheney met with unnamed people to craft the administration's official energy policy. Environmental groups suspected that the petroleum-centric nature of the National Energy Policy meant that oil company executives -- who are not strangers to Cheney and Bush -- were involved. Judicial Watch and The Sierra Club sued for the right to know who exactly was involved. The case went to the Supreme Court, which affirmed the administration's justifications of executive privilege in keeping this information secret.
It went only downhill from there. September 11 was a terrific reason to start painting over the White House windows; requests for information could be -- and have been -- rejected due to "national security."
As a Bush acolyte, Gonzales was right up there with Harriet Miers. The two could have been King and Queen of the Bush Loyalty Prom. By all accounts, Gonzales was good at his job. As White House Counsel, it was he who drafted the first legal arguments that the president didn't have to adhere to the "quaint" Geneva Conventions when dealing with enemy combatants. According to former Deputy Attorney General James Comey, Gonzales and White House Chief of Staff Andrew Card tried to get a drugged-up John Ashcroft to authorize an extension to the administration's warrantless wiretapping program, despite the fact that Ashcroft had transferred the powers of the Attorney General to Comey prior to entering the hospital for pancreatitis. Being bad at his job wasn't the problem. As we'll see, being bad at the Bush cover-up game was his problem.
As Attorney General, Gonzales vetted the roles of U.S. attorneys, removing anyone who was not a "loyal Bushie." But it was these same U.S. attorneys who would ultimately begin his downfall. Questions began: were these people fired for political reasons? The administration and its loyal mouthpieces (Fox News, Rush Limbaugh, Bill Kristol) quickly fired back that U.S. attorneys served at the pleasure of the president, political reasons or not. And while this is true, the firing of these attorneys -- in the middle of a term, not at the beginning of one like the Clinton purges -- was tacky, nevertheless. And so Gonzales visited the Senate for questioning. From March onward, it seemed like he was testifying every week.
So began his downfall.
Gonzales soon found himself caught in a web of lies of Rumsfeldian proportions. He said he had nothing to do with the firings, that other people below him prepared lists of names and all he, Gonzales, did was sign the paperwork. Then we found out that he had attended meetings about the attorney firings, and it seemed that he was the only one who didn't remember them. Gonzales' faulty memory became chronic as he was suddenly unable to remember where he was on particular days, that he had signed particular documents, or that he had talked to particular people.
This initial investigation spawned spin-off investigations. The original series U.S. Attorney Firings morphed into mid-season replacements like Violations of the Hatch Act, Whose Wiretapping Is It, Anyway? and the favorite prime-time drama of the summer, Wheel of Perjury. Gonzales had lied himself into several corners, and when he wasn't intentionally lying, he was accidentally telling the truth, as he did when he inadvertently revealed the existence of another as-yet undisclosed warrant-less wiretapping program earlier this summer. Gonzales was to Congressional investigations what Norman Lear was to TV sitcoms of the 1970s and '80s.
At the end of six months of investigations, where did we end up? The administration refused to budge on the issue of executive privilege. Harriet Miers and Karl Rove ignored Congressional subpoenas, refusing even to show up on Capitol Hill. (Only former White House political director Sara Taylor testified, and many of her answers included the words "executive privilege," but hey, at least she put in an appearance.) We all knew, in our heart of hearts, that these attorneys were fired for political reasons, not the "performance" problems we had been told back in March. But we had no evidence to prove it. Once Gonzales is no longer Attorney General, he will not be in the spotlight. Another poor shmuck -- perhaps Solicitor General Paul Clement or even Homeland Security Secretary Michael Chertoff (late of the Third Circuit Court of Appeals, you know) will get the unenviable task of fixing the Justice Department. It doesn't really matter who gets the job, as long as he or she isn't as much of a Bush lackey as Gonzales was.
Which begs the question: why was Gonzales so loyal? He owed his entire career to George Bush, from his post as Justice on the Texas Supreme Court to Attorney General. He continued riding the Bush Train to Hell even when it became painfully clear what the destination was. That's loyalty.
Republicans will suggest that Gonzales' so-called incompetence was caused by Democrats and their incessant hounding of him. "If only they had let him do his job at Justice instead of calling him in for testimony every other day," they'll say, "the Department wouldn't be in the shape it is." But it's not Congress' fault for exercising its role of oversight. That's like a felon who shot at the police blaming them for a gunshot wound. Gonzales thatched his roof; now he had to live under it. Now that he's moved out of that house, with the way the housing market is going, he won't get back nearly what he put into it.

