Worthy Fights: A Memoir of Leadership in War and Peace

by Leon Panetta

  I’ve often reflected on two different but related domestic debates in which I played a role—the effort to balance the federal budget under President Clinton and the imposition of sequestration under President Obama. In the first instance, the challenges were immense and the divisions deep. To shrink and then eliminate the federal budget deficit, we proposed raising taxes, which Republicans hated and opposed. President Clinton had campaigned for a middle-class tax cut, and only gave it up with great reluctance—and at political risk—when he realized how serious the deficit was and how much the tax cut would contribute to the problem. Al Gore wanted an energy tax, and didn’t get it. Congressional Democrats wanted increases in social programs that we couldn’t afford. No one got everything they wanted in that package, and some of those who supported it paid a price. Even with their courage, it only passed by the narrowest of margins—one vote in each house. But the deal got done. It put the country on a new financial footing, helped bring down interest rates, and laid the foundation for the economic growth of the 1990s. And it balanced the federal budget.

  Contrast that with the series of events at the end of President Obama’s first term that resulted in sequestration. That conversation began when House Republicans threatened to refuse raising the debt ceiling—and thus deliberately endangering the nation’s credit—unless they got their way on federal spending. The Obama administration, faced with a historic meltdown, cut a deal and agreed to an enforcement mechanism that would trigger cuts no one wanted if Congress failed to do its job. Congress went right ahead and failed, and those cuts have now begun working their mischief.

  In the 1993 budget debate, resolute, creative leadership crafted a package that could muster the necessary votes—granted, not by much—and the country benefited. In the 2011–12 debate, congressional leaders told me directly that they did not want what was coming, but they sat as if powerless and let it happen. The country suffered. Put another way: In 1993, President Clinton picked policy over politics—he could have insisted on his tax cut and reaped political rewards, but he dropped it when he became convinced it was the wrong time for the economy. In 2011, congressional leaders chose the opposite course—they knew that sequestration was bad policy but concluded that it was better politics than cutting popular programs or raising taxes. They took the easy way out, even though they knew it was wrong, and pretended they couldn’t stop it when they could have. They gave up.

  I highlight those experiences not to suggest that President Clinton was more effective than President Obama—both improved the nation’s economy, protected it from foreign enemies, and devoted themselves to the national interest. President Clinton defied some of his own party’s most enduring orthodoxy—from welfare to free trade to crime—and the result was a stronger economy and a new vision for politics. President Obama revamped a nearly broken economy, waged an aggressive campaign against terrorism, extricated the United States from two wars, and refocused the mission of our military; the result is a safer nation and a more prosperous one. History, in my view, will regard both as presidents who strove to create a better America.

  Nor do I bring up this contrast to suggest that Democrats are good and Republicans bad. I started my life as a Republican. I grew up in Earl Warren’s California. The first president I admired was Dwight Eisenhower. My first boss, Kuchel, was a Republican. I worked closely with my Republican counterparts in Congress over issues as diverse as passing the budget and protecting the California coastline, combating hunger, and expanding hospice. And during my time at the CIA and Defense, I appreciated the contributions so many Republicans made to the important work of defending this country.

  Rather, my point in resurrecting those debates is to note that in the first instance, the sustaining ambition was to do something for the country, even if we disagreed about how to do it. In the second, the goal was to win. And that idea—that the purpose of governing is to secure political advantage rather than benefit the public—permeates much of our political life today.

  That’s a problem—a big, serious, important problem. And it needs fixing. But it’s not beyond our capacity.

  It’s fashionable in Washington these days to say that the country has never been more divided or government more dysfunctional. The reality is that what binds us is far stronger than what divides us. We want America to be strong. We want jobs. We want good schools. We want to be safe. We want better lives for our children.

  Washington is divided because it locks up on the small stuff—whether the president or Congress gets credit for a bill; whether a majority or a supermajority should be needed to approve a nominee; whether the party’s base or a special interest will be offended by a vote. The country thinks differently. Americans care about the big stuff and get frustrated that Washington can’t set aside the small things for long enough to address the big ones.

  Moreover, the notion that we’ve never confronted such division is historically ludicrous. We fought a civil war. When one section of a country owns human slaves, and another is appalled by the practice, that’s division, and gridlock is understandable. It was impossible for the South to peacefully give up an institution that undergirded its social and economic order, and it was impossible to persuade others that slavery could possibly be countenanced by a civilized society. It’s insulting to our history to pretend that today’s divisions are comparable to those.

  That’s important to remember, because those who maintain that these divisions are historic do so partly as an excuse. How can we be held responsible for inaction, they ask, when the country is divided as never before? The answer: The people of this country are more united than it seems on what is needed to secure their families and give their children a better life. It is the responsibility of leaders to lead America in that direction, not to score points or win reelection.

  Because without leadership, there is crisis. When the members of the Super Committee walked away in 2011 without reaching an agreement that they were specifically charged with reaching, they damaged our national defense, hurt our national economy, and made a mockery of democratic government. When Congress wasted the year it gave itself to undo that damage, it compounded the committee’s failure. No outside force or invading army caused that crisis. Congress caused it all by itself.

  It was Lincoln, as usual, who best expressed what’s at stake. As he recognized, it is the responsibility of those who govern not only to provide for the common defense and promote the general welfare, but also, in a larger sense, to prove that this system can withstand division and succeed despite it. The war Lincoln fought was in defense of a nation “conceived in liberty, and dedicated to the proposition that all men are created equal.” The Civil War, as Lincoln said at Gettysburg, put to the test the question of “whether that nation, or any nation so conceived and so dedicated, can long endure.” The nation suffered almost inconceivable strain to establish that principle and to protect it when it seemed most fragile. Surely we can suffer much less to keep it alive for those still to come.

  As director of the CIA, I shouldered the loss of devoted officers who gave everything to pursue this nation’s enemies to the far corners of the earth. They charged ahead with vigor and purpose. As secretary of defense, I ordered young men and women into harm’s way. They responded without hesitation. I myself had to give orders more than once knowing that they might result in the loss of innocent life. I did so because I recognized my obligation to keep my country safe. Those are the burdens of duty. The soldiers and officers under my charge understood that passionately and carried it out bravely. If those men and women can risk their lives, the nation’s leadership must be capable of risking less.

  My public life is winding down, and I’m trying to pass along the lessons of my career to students. Every year, they come to the Panetta Institute, eager to contribute, hopeful to discover a Washington that still tends to the nation’s needs. They inspire and invigorate and replenish hope, and they should remind us of
our obligations: Those students deserve to inherit a country as bountiful as the one that welcomed my father when in 1921 he stepped from the gangplank of the Providence and onto the shore of Ellis Island. It is the responsibility of leadership to see that today’s America is as generous as yesterday’s, that enduring values—integrity, hard work, respect for others, courage—be preserved and honored. The next generation of Americans needs them just as much as mine did.

  After decades of commuting across the country, I’m home with Sylvia in the house my father built. The walnut grove he planted still bears fruit, and I still care for it. My sons are grown and have families of their own. My father never went to college. Two of my sons are lawyers, and the other is a doctor.

  America’s gifts to me were not ideological or partisan. They were of opportunity and family and security. As Americans, we may disagree on everything from baseball to national defense, but we are united by our most basic needs and by the dreams we have in common. Leadership can help keep us safe and let us prosper; the alternative brings instability and uncertainty, and makes life harder instead of easier.

  Rediscovering our gift for leadership won’t be simple. It will require sacrifice and compromise, steadiness of purpose and a willingness to listen—all of which are somewhat forgotten virtues in today’s Washington. Some of our elected officials may have to make unpopular decisions, and some may lose their jobs over it. But that’s no excuse for not trying.

  Those who serve must learn again to subordinate their self-interest to a larger national interest. In so doing, they will preserve democracy itself. That’s a worthy fight.

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  This is my story, of course, but many people helped me tell it—my collaborator, Jim Newton, but also archivists who unearthed documents and photographs; friends, family, and colleagues who agreed to be interviewed in order to refresh my memories and add important details; readers who checked portions of the manuscript for accuracy and completeness; editors and agents who saw promise in this project and turned my reminiscences into a book.

  My thanks begin and end where my life does: with my family. As in the rest of our life, work, and marriage, Sylvia was my partner in this project, recollecting details of our life together and accepting the inevitable exposure of some of our personal history. Our boys—Christopher, Carmelo, and Jimmy—were similarly supportive and helpful. They are the love of my life, and neither this book nor the story it tells would mean much without them and their wonderful families.

  Among my colleagues who contributed to the project, one is without peer. As recounted in the book, I first met Jeremy Bash when I arrived at the offices of the Obama transition team in early 2009. I was immediately impressed with his efficiency and knowledge, and I came to rely on both—as well as his humor and friendship—through my years at the CIA and Department of Defense. In producing this book, his memories were invaluable, and he spent hundreds of hours helping to shape the chapters describing our work together. Jeremy is a model public servant and my dear friend; I’m grateful to him for his service to our country and for his extraordinary commitment to this project. I should add that Jeremy’s colleagues Sarah Davey and Ashley Woolheater also provided important help, arranging interviews, scheduling visits, and corralling material for Jim and me to use.

  Without Jeremy, this book would not exist. But it also would not have come about without another essential person: Tina Bennett. Tina spied the potential of this story at the outset, brought Jim and me together, landed it in capable hands at Penguin Press, and guided it throughout. Tina and her colleagues at William Morris Endeavor, particularly Jennifer Rudolph Walsh with her gift for strong leadership, are exquisitely professional. I consider myself lucky to be associated with them (as does Jim).

  Once the project was launched, many friends and former colleagues set aside time to review our experiences. Those who generously shared their time included: Michael Morell, Stephen Kappes, Ashton Carter, Michèle Flournoy, Harold Ickes, Jodi Torkelson, John Franzén, Pat Griffin, Bill Danvers, Bruce Babbitt, Peter Edelman, Stephen Preston, Barry Munitz, Erskine Bowles, John Angell, Mickey Kantor, and George Little.

  For the history of my time in Congress and with the Clinton administration, I relied on two large depositories of historical material beyond my own memories and those of my former colleagues. At the Clinton Library in Little Rock, Whitney Ross guided Jim to records that helped complete the story of our deliberations and debates in areas such as the budget and health care. And at the Panetta Institute at Cal State Monterey Bay, Ellen Wilson and Chris Haubert facilitated every phase of our research. Thanks too to Royal Calkins, recently departed editor of the Monterey Peninsula Herald, for making the paper’s clip files available.

  Once the draft was complete—or nearly complete—a number of people again generously gave time and energy to reviewing it for accuracy. Michael Morell, Ashton Carter, Tom Donilon, Michèle Flournoy, Jim Miller, General John Kelly, George Little, Marcel Lettre, Monica Medina, Jacob Freedman, Carl Woog, Craig McCormick, and Philippe Reines all sharpened the story and saved me from errors.

  I would like to thank the professionals at the Department of Defense and the CIA who reviewed the manuscript to help ensure that the information was accurate and that it would not compromise future intelligence or military operations. At the Pentagon, Michael Rhodes was particularly helpful. I am also grateful for the security review and records management staffs at both DoD and the CIA who provided access to my archive and reviewed the text multiple times.

  At Penguin Press, the manuscript was guided into a finished book by the skilled editing of Scott Moyers, and, of course, the experience of working with Penguin Press was overseen throughout by the inestimable Ann Godoff. She is a gift to American culture.

  I am particularly pleased with the look and design of the final book, and credit for that, too, goes to a number of people. The book jacket was designed by Darren Haggar, and the photos featured in the two packets were selected by Steve Stroud, Jim’s former colleague at the Los Angeles Times, who took on this project with gusto and an experienced eye. Mally Anderson at Penguin Press honed those selections and contributed heartily to the result.

  Finally, a special thanks to Jim Newton. Over the course of this project, he became not just my collaborator but also my friend. He found my voice because he understood me, my politics, and the history and politics of California and the nation. He was always sensitive to my every thought and recollection. It is not an easy challenge to put yourself into the life of another and then to tell the story—in my case, that of a son of immigrants who had the chance to live the American dream. I will be forever grateful to Jim for his help and his friendship and for giving you, the reader, the chance to share the story of my life and worthy fights.

  Leon E. Panetta

  Carmel Valley, June 2014

  NOTES

  Chapter 1: “A Better Life”

  1.For a thoughtful and evenhanded discussion of the treatment of Italian Americans during World War II, see Lawrence DiStasi, Una Storia Segreta: The Secret History of Italian American Evacuation and Internment During World War II (Berkeley, CA: Heyday Books, 2001).

  Chapter 2: “Look at Yourself in the Mirror”

  1.Quoted in Remarks of Representative Stephen Horn, “Honoring a True Public Servant: Senator Thomas Kuchel,” Congressional Record, 107th Congress, October 10, 2002, E1856.

  2.Ibid., E1857.

  3.Los Angeles Times, obituary for Thomas Kuchel, November 23, 1994.

  4.Ibid.

  Chapter 3: “You Did What Was Right”

  1.Los Angeles Times, October 11, 1995.

  2.Brown v. Board of Education of Topeka, 347 U.S. 483 (1954).

  3.Quoted in Leon Panetta and Peter Gall, Bring Us Together: The Nixon Team and the Civil Rights Retreat (Philadelphia: Lippincott, 1971), 77.

  4.Monterey Peninsula Herald, May 9, 1969
.

  5.A clip of Goldwater’s famous convention speech is available at http://www.youtube .com/watch?v=RVNoClu0h9M.

  6.New York Times, December 21, 2000.

  Chapter 4: “No More Excuses”

  1.Monterey Peninsula Herald, April 29, 1975.

  2.Ibid., March 25, 1976.

  3.Los Angeles Times, October 12, 1976.

  Chapter 5: “Working for Us”

  1.Orlando Sentinel, September 29, 1994.

  2.Ibid.

  3.There are many thoughtful accounts of the Santa Barbara spill. I have relied in part on Keith C. Clarke and Jeffrey J. Hemphill, “The Santa Barbara Oil Spill: A Retrospective,” Yearbook of the Association of Pacific Coast Geographers, ed. Darrick Danta, University of Hawaii Press, vol. 64 (2002): 157–62. Available at http://www.geog.ucsb.edu/~kclarke/Papers/SBOilSpill1969.pdf.

  4.Los Angeles Times, December 4, 1982.

  5.New York Times, August 14, 1989.

  6.Monterey Peninsula Herald, July 29, 1981; March 15, 1982.

  7.New York Times News Service, November 8, 1981.

  8.The full text of the statement is available at American Presidency Project, “Statement on the Federal Budget Negotiations,” June 26, 1990, http://www.presidency.ucsb.edu/ws/index.php?pid=18635&st=&st1=.