University of Virginia Library

Robert Gillmore

Politics: The Art
Of The 'Possible'

This writer, like most, rarely
responds in print to letters about
his editorials or columns — mainly
because the correspondence is
usually, for various reasons, not
worth the time needed to write or
the space needed to print a reply.

He will however, make an
exception in this case because the
letter by Bill Olson (printed below)
so very well states the view which I
critic zed last week.

In sum, Mr. Olson and all the
disaffected radicals whom he
represents are themselves guilty of
precisely the error he ascribes to
this column — an inadequate grip
on "reality."

Mr. Olson does of course make
one major and correct point — that
the Williams campaign failed to
involve enough students.

But beyond that general
observation, every point Mr. Olson
makes is utterly unrealistic and thus
demonstrates that he, too, suffers
gravely from much of the ignorance
and some of the arrogance I
discussed.

Realistic

For it is realistic to invite
students not to attend picnics (or
any other event) if their presence
will be counterproductive to the
campaign; it is realistic to shun the
support of overt "peace"
movements if their support will be
counterproductive to the campaign;
it is realistic to refuse the support
of any particular student if their
support will be counterproductive
to the campaign.

Do you see? The far greater end
of getting a liberal elected to
Congress both specifies and justifies
many clever but really harmless and
minor tactical means — such as
shaking hands, smiling and keeping
certain students out of certain
places. Too many students do not
realize that fact. They are, in other
words, not realistic.

Now, about the Williams
campaign rhetoric, two points:

1. "Bombings, vandalism and
seizure of public buildings" are
crimes, Mr. Olson, and they should
be "dealt with as such." Mr.
Williams needs to apologize to no
one for those statements. But,

2. and more important, even if
Mr. Williams' did owe us an apology
we would still owe him our
support. For another means to the
end of victory is rhetoric infected
with varying degrees of insincerity.
Realism can perceive its necessity.
And more important, realism can
separate the rhetorical appearance
from the underlying reality.

'No Liberal'

That is why, Mr. Olson, the
Williams literature proclaims
"Murat's No Liberal." That is why,
Mr. Olson, you or any other
intelligent person should not be so
naive as to believe it. And that is
why, Mr. Olson, your support of
Mr. Williams is as justified after you
read those words as it was before.

3. But what if Mr. Williams
sincerely differed with us? Then we
should still support him — provided
the differences were rather few and
those with his opponent, rather
many.

And that, I suppose, is the
ultimate logic of our very imperfect
system.

"How can any political
candidate who trades in the current
fear of being whipped up by Nixon
and Agnew expect any student to
work in his campaign? Mr. Olson
asks.

How can he, Mr. Olson? Because
he knows — apparently much better
than you or your friends — that the
only way to beat Nixon and Agnew
is just the way he is now trying to
do it.

Good men, Mr. Olson, do not
live well in this world merely by
holding their noses.

They make the world less evil,
loss imperfect by becoming a little
more evil and a little more
imperfect themselves.

They make distinctions between
means and ends and declare too
often wrongly! — that some ends
are better than others, that some
means are worth their price.

Get Elected

That is why, Mr. Olson, Mr.
Williams' "concern right now" is
indeed — and ought to be — to "get
elected" and to "stay elected" once
there.

Adlai Stevenson reminded us a
few months before he died that the
"truisms, after all, are true."

An old truism holds that the
craft of politics is the ability to
induce the most good from our
public arrangements. Politics,
therefore, is concerned with the
"possible."

Mr. Olson, however, seems to be
groping for what is called
"perfectionism" — where politics is
concerned with the impossible.