IRS tempest: Teapot Dome and Beyond

Like thunder rolling across the plains, the latest political scandal started as a low rumble a year ago and exploded with sound and fury two weeks ago. The congressional hearings have begun with the jawing and snapping from partisans out for blood.

            What can either side expect (hope) to find in the Internal Revenue Service’s practice of focusing on conservative political groups, notably the Tea Party, who sought nonprofit, thus tax-exempt, status as so-called social-welfare organizations?

            More precisely, what can they uncover that the investigation conducted by the Treasury Inspector General for Tax Administration didn’t find? A missed memo that has the president ordering the practice? A liberal grand conspiracy to destroy America?

            Perhaps, but the hearings and investigations also could lead to the less nefarious, nothing more than bureaucratic incompetence; even, dare say a tempest in a teapot?

            This political scandal, as with many, has scale and headlines – “IRS targeted conservative groups” – that compel partisans and pundits to over-react with one hearing after another, one investigation after another, and one expose after another.

            Often, there is no there there, as the White House has said about the endless Benghazi terrorist attack hearings, but congressional investigations can sometimes uncover wrongdoing, even when they look like partisan point-scoring in the lurch-for-power game.

            The precedent was set for this nearly a century ago during the presidency of Republican Warren G. Harding, who had one of the more scandal-ridden administrations in American history. The scandal du jour then was known as Teapot Dome.

The leasing of U.S. naval oil reserves at Teapot Dome in Wyoming and Elk Hills in California to two private oil companies seemed suspicious to Montana Democratic Sen. Thomas Walsh because Secretary of the Interior Albert Fall had not sought competitive bids.

In 1921, Harding ordered control of Teapot Dome and Elk Hills transferred from the Navy Department to the Interior Department. The navy, after Secretary Fall’s persuasive insistence, transferred control in 1922.

That same year, Fall leased the oil production rights at Teapot Dome to Mammoth Oil, a subsidiary of Sinclair Oil, and Elk Hills to Pan American Petroleum. That neither lease was competitively bid was legal under the Mineral Leasing Act of 1920.

 Nonetheless, a Wyoming oil producer complained to his senator that Sinclair got the rights through a secret deal. Republican Sen. Robert LaFollette of Wisconsin lead an investigation, during which he initially believed Fall innocent, until his Senate office was ransacked. Then he, too, became as suspicious as Walsh.

For two years, Walsh conducted a fruitless inquiry into Teapot Dome, uncovering nothing illegal, even though records kept disappearing mysteriously. Just as things were about to wrap up, the Montana senator uncovered evidence that revealed Fall had gotten kickbacks from the oil companies – a $100,000 loan to start.

That broke open the scandal. Civil and criminal lawsuits ensued; the U.S. Supreme Court ruled the contracts were obtained through fraudulent and corrupt means, and the oil reserves were returned to the navy.

Fall was found to have received more than half a million dollars in kickbacks. He was fined $100,000 and sentenced to one year behind bars, the first time in history that a presidential cabinet member was sent to prison for his actions while in office, according to historical accounts.

Since then, scandal and investigation have become part of the political diet in Washington because, as the Teapot Dome scandal showed, no matter how thorough an investigation, there could still be something damning that was missed or not yet found.

Expect the congressional investigations into the IRS’s targeting practice, and the Benghazi scandal, and whatever other scandals come our way, to continue for a long time because there could be that bit of yet unfound evidence.

 Incidentally, the Teapot Dome scandal had no political effect in the following elections of helping Democrats win or Republicans lose. 

 

Gun Crazy

           Listening these many weeks to the gun debate within the gun culture brings to mind a little known 1950 film noir called “Gun Crazy.”

            It’s actually quite good, and if you get a chance you should watch it, whether you support or oppose guns and gun-control. The plot and its two main characters, Bart and Laurie, seem to capture the dichotomy within the ranks of the National Rifle Association’s members.

            The plot features Bart, who loves guns, they make him feel good inside. So much so that he steals a pistol at age 14 and is arrested. Bart’s family and friends testify in court that Bart is responsible and would never use guns to harm anyone. While the judge believes their testimony he nonetheless is compelled to send Bart to reform school.

            Years later, after reform school and a stint in the army, Bart returns home and catches up with his friends. They go to a field where he demonstrates his sharp-shooting skills with his elegant gun collection. They ask him about his plans for the future, and Bart says he wants to work for a gun manufacturer like Remington.

            That night, Bart meets Laurie, a sharpshooter at a carnival. They burn with passion for each other, but Laurie warns him she’s been bad. For awhile, the lovers enjoy life, performing together as carnival sharpshooters until circumstances leave them out of work. Laurie wants to turn to crime and use their guns to steal, from people and banks.

            Bart rejects the idea, and instead wants to sell their guns and work at Remington, but Laurie argues against it. “There isn't enough money in those guns for the kind of start I want,” she says. “Bart, I want things, a lot of things, big things. I don't want to be afraid of life or anything else.

           Laurie threatens to leave him and he goes along with her. Their crime wave gets out of hand. After trying to stop Laurie from shooting people who get in her way, Bart finds himself firing his gun at a pursuing police car and realizes he’s losing control.

            “Laurie, listen to me, listen close,” Bart confides in her. “Something happened when I was scared. All the time I was shooting that tire, I kept thinking how easy it would be to shoot the driver instead. I kept fighting myself. I'm not a killer. I don't want to be a killer. I don't like this kind of life. I've had enough.”

            Laurie hasn’t and before long she’s killing people without compunction, without the thought that Bart puts into his use of guns.

This is the dichotomy in the National Rifle Association. Its membership seems largely filled with Barts, people who enjoy and appreciate firearms, but also respect guns for what they are – weapons, to handle carefully and safely.

            NRA leaders like Wayne LaPierre and Ted Nugent sound like Lauries, blocking, without compunction, regulations to make a largely non-gun owning society safer – such as universal background checks that most of its members support.

            They claim to fear regulation because it means the government eventually will take away guns. Is that really their fear? Or do they fear having to make concessions – giving up semi-automatic weapons with large ammunition magazines, for example. 

            The NRA leaders' answers to gun safety regulations sound like the reasons Laurie gives Bart when he asks her why she killed people: “Because I had to,” Laurie said. “Because I was afraid. Because they would have killed you. Because you're the only thing I've got in the whole world. Because I love you.”

            Whether or not you agree with this analysis, you should see the movie. It’s good filmmaking.

When our best is not enough

In 1947, after spearheading the defeat of fascism in Europe and, among other things, preserving the system of popular elections, British Prime Minister Sir Winston Churchill famously said in the House of Commons: “It has been said that democracy is the worst form of government except all the others that have been tried.”

That observation comes to mind with the recent change of heart by U.S. Sen. Rob Portman, an Ohio Republican. Once an opponent of same-sex marriage, he now supports it. His decision will no doubt contribute to the eventual law of the land.

But it was a decision based not on policy or legal or legislative considerations. It was determined by self-interest – his 21-year-old son, Will, told his parents he way gay.

According to the Cleveland Plain Dealer, Portman said his son, a junior at Yale University, told he and his wife, Jane, that his sexual orientation "was not a choice, it was who he is and that he had been that way since he could remember."

The newspaper quoted the senator: "It allowed me to think of this issue from a new perspective, and that's of a dad who loves his son a lot and wants him to have the same opportunities that his brother and sister would have – to have a relationship like Jane and I have had for over 26 years.”

Portman, who as a U.S. House member backed the 1996 federal “Defense of Marriage Act” – a law now under review by the U.S. Supreme Court and intended to block same-sex marriage – said he has no plans to lead the charge in either reversing Ohio’s 2004 ban on same-sex marriage or pushing for a federal same-sex marriage law.

Yet, he’s seeing the issue in a new light because the issue hit heart and home.

Here is democracy at its worst, rife with self-interest and provincial views, which conspire to block meaningful, often needed, laws that benefit society at large.

Decisions are too often based on how an issue affects a particular legislator or elected official personally, not whether it serves the common good. Same-sex marriage is another step into including – instead of excluding – a group into American society.

A nation that is inclusive, instead of exclusive, is a nation that is stronger morally, socially and economically – the pillars of a just and a secure society.

According to the website, Freedom to Marry.org, 11states (Connecticut, Delaware, Iowa, Maine, Maryland, Massachusetts, New Hampshire, New York, Rhode Island, Vermont and Washington) and the District of Columbia have so far legalized same-sex marriage.

Portman told the Plain Dealer in March that among the reasons he chose now – the U.S. Supreme Court heard arguments later that month – to announce his change of view was “getting comfortable with my position and wanting to do this before the politics of these court decisions make it more difficult to have an honest discussion.”

Portman came about his change-of-mind in a decent, human way – the love of his child. But shouldn’t there be more of an intellectual process from a legislator whose vote affects not just his Ohio constituents but the nation?

Fairness and equal rights regardless of sexual orientation as well as race, creed and color is central to our constitutional principles and American spirit. Shouldn’t all legislators, no matter what the issue, decide to vote on what’s best for the nation at large rather than play to the ignorance of the few?
As Churchill also said, “It's not enough that we do our best; sometimes we have to do what's required.”