University of Virginia Library

The Calculated Power On The Potomac

Commentary

By WALTER BARDENWERPER

The marble colossus that houses the executive offices of the
President may be a long way from the corn rows of Iowa and
the cattle ranges of Texas, but it would be a good idea if more
farmers and other Americans took more heed of how their
daily lives are being affected by the bureaucracy inside that
building.

This is no new phenomenon, and it is nothing uniquely
Nixonian. Rather, Washington has become more and more the
central office for all the business of America during the course
of several decades. There are, of course, broad areas where the
federal government can and has properly intervened to raise
the standard of living for those who needed help. But it is
becoming increasingly apparent to me, at least, that the power
to control the lives of the people, while not always exercised
as sweepingly as possible, resides in a few offices where policy
is made at the executive level.

One of these offices, something of a colossus itself
(proportioned both to the size of the building and the status in
the federal hierarchy of its occupant) is that of the Chairman
of the Council of Economic Advisers. Here, and over on the
other side of the White House at the Treasury Secretary's
office, are the headquarters of the New Economic Policy,
otherwise known as Phases I,ll, and III.

Having just the week before embarked on Phase III, the
final gasp of mandatory wage and price controls, Herbert
Stein, the present occupant of the office, seems a bit harassed
and frazzled – ostensibly because of the Economic Report of
the President which he and his staff are busy preparing.
Nonetheless, I am ushered into his inner sanctum, seated on a
sofa across from the Chairman, and the interview begins.

Throughout the interview, he never shows any real
excitement, as if the facts and figures speak for themselves and
should not arouse any controversy. He answers the questions
methodically, beginning most of them with a slow, "we'll"
occasionally leaning back with his leg up on the arm of the
easy chair, constantly wringing his hands.

Economics is often called the dismal science, but the label
understates the reality. Unless things go disastrously wrong,
the job of an economist is to discover major trends from
millions of individually insignificant events, and, when it seems
necessary, to recommend small adjustments in complicated
financial and governmental mechanisms in order to straighten
things out.

Excitement is, however, part of the very nature of the job
of chief economic adviser to the President of the United
States. But there is a carefully calculated composure about this
administration- and Herbert Stein, thumbs hooked around his
suspenders as he looks into the empty fireplace certainly
would appear to be unflappable no matter how exciting things
became in the Oval Office.

He may, in fact, be the quintessence of the high-level
government official as a genre. He looks like a bureaucrat, but
he is too proficient and too perceptive to have languished as a
functionary. As a professional, he is in a position where his
professional opinions are those the President hears; he knows
that this is his opportunity to shape the future.

But he has his feet on the ground, and he has learned the
limits of his power. Does this mean he has lost his ideals?
Rejected fundamentals? Spurned theory? It does not seem so.
Instead, he (and many others who don't quite seem to practice
what they preach when they finally do gain power) seems to
have sensed the totality of the state of affairs.

He has had to accept that economic affairs do not exist in a
vacuum, but must be seen as part of the whole world picture
and considered from a long-run point-of-view. And, as the
President would remind him, he is only part of "the team" –
and all the President's men are "team players."

As his certificate signifying that he has flown on Air Force
One would indicate. Herbert Stein is pleased to be part of that
team, and he feels he is helping it to achieve its goals. What