Aug. 19, 2002 -- I don't think so. Not for this governor. Not yet. Sure, it has been a tough couple of weeks. Warner had his backside handed to him in the Senate special in Northern Virginia, a defeat many observers think portends disaster for the 'raise my taxes' referendum in November. And the budget news could hardly be worse. That's a big number. There's going to be some slash and burn to that one. And then there's the little flare-up with Wilder. Was that predictable, or what? There's even a hint here and there that a little sniping of the finger pointing variety has broken out on the third floor, a sure sign that the stress meter is working.
Well, what to do? Should we be tuning up the orchestra? Going over the sheet music for the dirge? Of course not.
The fundamental problem is not that this administration doesn't have a 'Plan B' to fall back on. The fundamental problem is that this administration doesn't have 'Plan A'. If it does, it hasn't articulated it. If it has, I missed it. Go over it again for me. What is 'Plan A'? Is it 'No Parole'? Is it 'No Car Tax'? Is it 'Education'? Is it 'Transportation'? 'A Chicken In Every Pot'? Is it 'Forty Acres And A Mule'?
You see, it really doesn't matter what the plan is, as long as there is one. Until then, every little side issue that comes up, every little distraction, and folks are going to think about that requiem question. Why is that? Because we don't have a map, an alternative, to go by. We don't have that backdrop of a plan that puts everything else into context.
And you know what else, Governor? You can put a stop to it. Tell us what the plan is. Articulate who you are. What you believe. What you stand for.
And here's a tip: You must do that at the beginning of the day. That way, you drive events. If you wait until the end, events will have driven you. And even worse, you make the ultimate mistake of confusing motion with direction.
There is an adage in boxing. You really don't need referees and judges. Put a ten-year-old at ringside and the ten-year-old will tell you who won the fight. The same is the case with political messaging. If a ten-year-old can't understand it, if a ten- year- old can't repeat it back to you, the problem is yours, not the kid's.
In the context of a message, if there is one, these recent difficulties become mere aberrations, blips of no importance. The Northern Virginia loss? Republican to begin with. Too early to read the referendum tea leaves. The billion and a half deficit? Lay that one where it belongs. A clue: the word starts with a capital 'R'. Wilder? The perfect fall guy. Let him take it. (And arrange counseling--high dollar counseling--for the staffer, for anyone, who suggests that you should make those cuts, that you should take the hits on that. What? You go down to the asylum, ask for the worst case, and put him or her in charge of your political strategy?)
Remember Gowen Stevens? Sure you do. It was Stevens who uttered himself into immortality in 'Act 1: The Courthouse' of William Faulkner's Requiem For A Nun, a novel in three acts, published in 1951. Said he: "The past is never dead. It's not even past."
Faulkner, of course, had a strong connect with Virginia. He was the first writer-in-residence at UVA (1957). And the second (1958). And he bought that place in Charlottesville. Fell off the wagon here more than once, and off of several horses. Love him or hate him, he knew about the past. He knew it was not against the law to learn from it.
Fact is, I'd recommend him. And the requiem? Let's hold that one for the moment. Still plenty of time.
Copyright 2002