Monday, Jan. 19, 1970

The Commission: How to Create a Blue-Chip Consensus

TIME ESSAY THE COMMISSION HISTORY is rich in evidence that men would rather talk than act, and wise governments have furnished them with institutions to accommodate this inclination. The ancient Athenians devised the ecclesia, or popular assembly, which allowed all citizens to speak their thoughts without necessarily getting any action on them. The Senate of Imperial Rome was another forum where words loomed larger than deeds. In the U.S. of today, government has created a worthy successor to those institutions: the commission. In recent years, innumerable national issues have been handed over to commissions of eminent citizens on the assumption that, if they cannot solve a problem, they can at least talk it to death. Presidents, Governors, mayors--all follow what has become a contemporary political maxim: when in doubt, appoint a commission.

With little fanfare and not much attention from political scientists, the commission has become an established part of the democratic process in the U.S. The trend to group-think began earlier in this century when governments, along with universities and big businesses, decided that more progress could be made if assorted experts were brought together in one place to discuss a multidimensional question. Yet it is only in the past decade that commissions have flowered so profusely. Lyndon Johnson appointed dozens of them; so has Richard Nixon, though he prefers to call them "task forces." Today, at least 3,000 are operating at the federal level alone: countless more are at work for state and local governments. This month, Nixon added yet another to the list by signing into law a congressional act creating a new, three-member presidential Council of Environmental Advisers.

Participation of the Elite

The proliferation of these study groups can be interpreted as proof thai traditional political institutions are nc longer capable of handling unassisted the problems of U.S. society. On the other hand, the commission may be evidence that American democracy is still inventive enough to create new institutions or find new uses for old ones when the need arises. As much as anything, today's commission is an outgrowth of the spirit of "participatory democracy" now abroad in the land. 11 is an elite citizenry, of course, that gets appointed to a commission, but it speaks for broad constituencies.

By this time there is almost an established class of commissioners who are tapped repeatedly for service. IBM Board Chairman Thomas Watson Jr and former Xerox Executive Sol Linowitz are favorite choices to represent big business. Walter Reuther and George Meany speak for labor, Notre Dame's president, the Rev. Theodore Hesburgh, for Roman Catholics and Whitney Young Jr. and Roy Wilkins for Negroes --although not necessarily for militant ones. The process of forming a commission reminds Sociologist Daniel Bell of a Communist front group. Though the purposes are clearly different, both bodies try to achieve luster by seeking "big-name" representatives of various groups: women, blacks, Catholics, Jews. "If you find a black woman," says Bell, "you've hit a home run." Unlike Communist front groups, however, commissions consider extremism in any form a vice. Better that the commissioner have no clear party label and no pronounced political views. Moderate liberals like John W. Gardner are frequently sought for service on commissions, even if room is occasionally found for a moderate eccentric like Longshoreman-Philosopher Eric Hoffer.

Sensitive to Politics

Commissions fall roughly into three categories. There are the well-publicized ad hoc groups, like the Warren or Kerner commissions, that address themselves to some dramatic national issue. There are the statutory commissions that serve as more or less permanent adjuncts to the Federal Government; the President's Science Advisory Committee is an example. Finally, there are the commissions that attend to business that established branches of Government consider too tiresome or time-consuming to be bothered with. In 1955, for instance, a commission was set up to find a suitable monument for President Franklin Roosevelt; it is still trying to do so, at a cost of $33,000 a year.

Theoretically, a commission is supposed to be removed from political considerations; in fact, it seldom is. When Lyndon Johnson in 1968 formed the Commission on Income Maintenance, he was not interested in obtaining an objective report on the subject from disinterested citizens. He had already made up his mind in favor of some form of income maintenance. His purpose, according to former Presidential Aide Joseph Califano, was to "try to get blue-chip prestigious commissioners on the line for something that was highly radical at the time." A President may also set up a commission to avoid dealing with a problem. Under pressure to do something about saving all the jobs that seemed threatened by automation, Johnson in 1965 appointed a National Commission on Technology, Automation and Economic Progress. One year and $1,000,000 later, the commission submitted a thoughtful report that was received with resounding indifference at the White House. While the commissioners were toiling away, the unemployment rate sharply dropped. Automation was no longer a burning issue.

Vital Balance

Commissions have other distinct political uses. Almost everybody is flattered by a presidential appointment, and a commission is a good place to put a political supporter who is too important to be named a postmaster and not significant enough to warrant an embassy. As L.B.J. bluntly put it, when someone proposed abolishing a commission without any apparent purpose: "I need jobs for slobs." He managed to find a place for the husband of a favorite secretary on the Subversive Activities Control Board, a commission that is supposed to hunt down Communist organizations but has failed to locate one in more than four years.

The success of a commission depends on the quality of its prestigious commissioners and, perhaps more important, on that of its less visible staff. Says Daniel Bell: "It is vital to create a balance between stuffed shirts and those who will do some work." Often one determined member can carry the rest of the commission along with him. Retired from the presidency of Johns Hopkins University, Chairman Milton Eisenhower of the Violence Commission had ample time and energy to devote to the report; he thus managed to persuade both liberals and conservatives to accept his moderate approach. No doubt he was aided by the fact that some of his fellow commissioners were preoccupied. Eric Hoffer occasionally dozed during meetings, Congressman Hale Boggs rarely showed up, and Senator Roman Hruska diluted his authority by sending a legislative assistant to sessions.

It is not always easy to secure agreement among the conflicting viewpoints of commission members. The initial drafts of reports may contain dramatic or extreme statements that are subsequently modified for the sake of prudence. The Violence Commission, for instance, dropped a ringing line that appeared in an original draft: "As the early Christians showed, a prophetic minority sometimes shows more insight than a silent majority." Still, the tendency of a commission is to seek consensus since, without a unanimous report, its members know that their work will have little impact. Moreover, as ancient philosophers discovered, an extended symposium on human affairs is a powerful way of getting at the truth. Lloyd Cutler, executive director of the Violence Commission, puts it this way: "A commission is an educational process for everybody. When you get people together for a year or two and expose them to the facts, the facts force the conclusions."

Some federal commissions have made notable contributions to American life. The Government's current program to combat crime, for example, drew many of its provisions from the 1967 Crime Commission report. The draft lottery that went into effect last month stems from a recommendation of a presidential commission appointed to study the Selective Service System. Yet for every commission that succeeds in its objectives, there are probably twice as many that fail. Despite its exhaustive investigation into the assassination of President Kennedy, the Warren Commission failed to dispel suspicions that Lee Harvey Oswald was not the only man involved in the killing. Unless given a specific goal, and a deadline, commissions can labor for years over the most trifling matters. The Corregidor-Bataan Memorial Commission took 14 years to arrange to build a monument to U.S. and Filipino war dead. In the interval, the exasperated Filipinos put up their own memorial. Even when a commission issues a persuasive report, it is often ignored. Numerous Government task forces have come to the conclusion that Negro ghettos must receive more substantial federal aid. Yet, says Sociologist Kenneth Clark, it is like "the same moving picture reshown over and over again, the same analysis, the same recommendations and the same inaction."

Unfulfilled Hopes

In the U.S., at least, commissions are often casually appointed and thus easily shelved or forgotten. In arousing hopes that they often cannot fulfill, they contribute to a further erosion of confidence in democratic institutions at a time when they are already facing sustained criticism. After serving on the Violence Commission, U.S. District Judge A. Leon Higginbotham Jr. urged a moratorium on all commissions to solve social problems. There had been too much study, he complained, and too little action. Of course, if the President were to act on this advice, he would probably start by appointing a brand-new commission to study the feasibility of abolishing all commissions. The commissioners, after months of laborious research, would doubtless issue a unanimous report urging their immediate abolition. The study would be widely publicized, thoughtfully analyzed--and then suffer the fate of other such reports. In all likelihood, the President would go right on appointing new commissions.

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