Trouble on the Team

By Edwin Warner

A foreign policy power play leads to talk of Haig's resignation

The last thing he wanted, said President Reagan, was an unseemly squabble among his top foreign policy advisers. Yet that is what he got last week in the most explosive and embarrassing clash of his young Administration. Annoyed by what he saw as a challenge to his authority as the nation's chief foreign policy manager, Secretary of State Alexander Haig publicly questioned a decision by his boss and even hinted that he might resign after a scant two months in office. What riled Haig was Reagan's decision to put Vice President George Bush in charge of "crisis management," though precisely what that meant remained tantalizingly imprecise. Nevertheless Bush's appointment pitted Haig against the White House staff and imperiled, at least temporarily, the conduct of U.S. foreign policy. It was a quarrel that could hardly have come at a worse time, for even as it was boiling along, a major crisis to be managed loomed on the horizon--the confrontation between the government and the independent union movement in Poland.

At week's end all the participants in the Haig affair were insisting that business was as usual and that "the team" was back in harness. But in fact no one had emerged from the altercation with his honor or credibility enhanced, and several questions had been raised about the new Administration's ability to conduct diplomacy. The questions were many. Was there a potentially serious flaw in Reagan's aloof, above-the-battle approach to management, which relies heavily on staff aides to keep rivalries in check? How seriously had Haig's prestige been damaged, not only in the White House but on Capitol Hill and abroad? How well could the Secretary of State be expected to work with Reagan's top aides, with Bush and--perhaps most important --with the senior White House staff and Richard Allen, the National Security Adviser, whose hand had seemingly been strengthened by the furor?

Despite Reagan's best intentions to set up a smoothly working foreign policy team, its members have been at odds from the beginning. The reasons are partly personal, partly institutional, and have much to do with Haig's determination to establish his hegemony in the area. On Inauguration Day, he sent to the White House, for Reagan's signature, a lengthy memorandum defining the Secretary of State's powers in foreign policy formulation and administration. The document assigned State the lead role in interagency groups dealing with all diplomatic problems and reduced Allen's NSC staff to a coordination and analysis body. Although Reagan has yet to sign the document, Haig's voice on policy issues has come through loud and clear. Despite the reservations of White House staffers who felt that a diplomatic crisis would distract attention from domestic economic problems, Haig made headlines by emphasizing the leftist threat in El Salvador. He persuaded the President to maintain the grain embargo with the Soviet Union over the objections of Agriculture Secretary John Block. Haig moved in on negotiations with the Japanese over auto imports, thereby causing U.S. Special Trade Representative William Brock to protest angrily to Reagan's advisers. In the view of the White House staff, Haig was plainly overreaching himself, and they determined to draw a line. Said one aide: "He thinks he's President."

Bush was picked as the figure to put a lid on Haig's spreading influence, and the issue chosen was who would be in charge of crisis management, a job customarily handled by the National Security Adviser. But Allen was ruled out because a decision had been made to reduce the NSC to policy analysis and coordination; besides, Allen's appointment would have been a direct slap at Haig. That kind of criticism could not apply to the Vice President. Moreover, the Secretary of State would necessarily play a major role in crisis planning. Haig would have the substance of power even if he lacked it on the charts. Power comes to him who exercises it, and Haig has shown no reluctance to do that.

The issue surfaced last week at a routine House subcommittee hearing on the State Department budget. Florida Democrat Dante Fascell noted a Washington Post article stating that Bush had been put in charge of crisis management, and wondered whether the Secretary felt he might be "bypassed" under this arrangement. (The plan to appoint Bush first appeared in print in TIME, March 23.) Haig rose to the bait: "I read with interest and I suppose a lack of enthusiasm the same newspaper reports that you referred to." The Secretary added that he did not "think a decision has been made; at least it has not been discussed with me if one has been made."

Haig then went on to explain that he saw his role as "general manager" of foreign policy; he would act for Reagan much as Secretary of State John Foster Dulles had performed for Dwight Eisenhower when the NSC was almost nonexistent and the Secretary's power was not challenged within the White House. Haig virtually dismissed the importance of the NSC staff in policy formulation because it is composed of people who are not subject to Senate confirmation. U.S. foreign policy, argued Haig, must bear the "imprimatur" of officials who have "undergone the confirmation process and who traditionally the American people have held responsible under that process."

White House officials were surprised at Haig's surprise about the Bush assignment. Said one aide: "Hell, if he was so concerned, why didn't he pick up the phone and call one of us and ask what's going on?" More important, they were angry that the Secretary had violated a Reagan taboo by making his grievance public. On the afternoon of his testimony, Haig was still brooding in his State Department office when he got a call from the President Reagan tried to reassure him, and told him that a statement would soon be issued. Haig was apparently convinced by the conversation that the President planned to undo the appointment. But then at 6:20 p.m., State Department Spokesman William Dyess broke into Haig's office with word that Bush had indeed been named crisis manager. Haig was stunned. "This must be wrong," he muttered. To assess the situation, Haig then consulted with his top aides in a series of talks that lasted nearly three hours. "It was a put-down for him," said a participant. "He was hurt." The Secretary and his confidants tried to explore the motivations behind the appointment. Was it a slap at Haig? Was it a power play on the part of the White House staff? Was it a genuine effort by the President to recover a greater role in foreign policy? During the course of these talks, Haig seriously considered resigning. One factor that influenced his decision to stay was the looming Polish crisis. By quitting, he felt he might create disarray in the Administration at a time when firm unity was needed. The meetings broke up with no firm conclusions reached. Said a Haig associate: "We decided we would see its evolution."

At dawn the next day, key White House staffers started a round of meetings to try to contain the damage. They feared that Haig's resignation would indicate an ominous degree of disunity in the Administration. Moreover, Haig would be hard to replace, since no other foreign policy heavyweight was readily available and acceptable to Reagan. Finally, around 9:15 a.m. the President and Haig met to settle the affair. While they conferred, White House Congressional Liaison Max Friedersdorf phoned Senate Majority Leader Howard Baker three times to keep him posted on developments. Eventually, the White House drew up a statement that was intended to mollify Haig without giving ground on the Bush appointment.

Snappily dressed in boots, riding pants and an olive green turtleneck sweater, the President read the statement on the South Lawn of the White House before boarding his helicopter, Marine One, for an afternoon on horseback at Quantico, Va. Said Reagan: "Let me say what I have said a number of times before. The Secretary of State is my primary adviser on foreign affairs, and in that capacity he is the chief formulator and spokesman for foreign policy for this Administration. There is not, nor has there been, any question about this." Reagan then went on to give a rather odd definition of the kinds of crises Bush might deal with. "It could be an earthquake. It could be a flood in any one of our states." Reagan may have been confusing the Federal Emergency Management Agency with the NSC, since he added: "There has always been such an office in the White House and normally the White House National Security Adviser has chaired that." The President also took an uncharacteristic snipe at the press by saying, "Maybe some of you were trying to make the news instead of reporting it."

The President's statement seemed to defuse the crisis, at least for the moment. Haig managed to appear nonchalant and even jocular when he appeared before a Senate subcommittee on Thursday, and he parried reporters' questions with good humor. "The reports of my demise are greatly exaggerated," he jested. Did that mean he was not resigning? Replied Haig: "Somebody said I looked Bushed this morning, but I'm not sure." Haig repeatedly told the subcommittee: "My concern is substance, not form. The question of form has been decided, and it is time to get on with the substance of foreign policy. I think enough has been said."

There is no question that Haig hurt himself by his display of personal pique and his near obsessive concern about encroachments on his power. One explanation for his strained behavior may be fatigue. Ever since his confirmation he has driven himself mercilessly, and his schedule remained jampacked right up to his departure for the Middle East this week. But he will no longer be held in quite the awe that he earlier enjoyed.

Indeed, Haig may have seriously misread his President. While Reagan sometimes appears relaxed to the point of inattention, he is acutely attentive to any insubordination on the part of his staff. He abhors internal feuding and prefers a collegial harmony that will present him with a consensus on the issues, or at least clearly defined alternatives. Haig is now considered to be a nonteam player by a White House staff that tried carefully to exclude prima donnas from the Cabinet in the first place. Says a Republican Senator of the White House staff: "Those guys just can't stand Haig." Haig, in turn, facetiously refers to Presidential Counsellor Edwin Meese, Chief of Staff James Baker and Deputy Chief of Staff Michael Deaver as the "three-headed monster." Haig supporters even speculate that Baker may have a political motive for bad-mouthing him. Since Baker is personally close to Bush, he may want to cut down a possible rival for the 1984 presidential nomination, assuming that Reagan does not run again.

Rather waspishly, the White House staff reminded reporters last week that Haig has talked about resigning several times. After hearing the Secretary complain about slights from the White House, a powerful Republican Senator warned: "That boy's been threatening to resign three times a week. One time they might just take him up on it." But would Haig resign? He has joked about "going back to Connecticut," and he has privately admitted that he does not much like many of the burdens of his job. But balanced heavily against that is the veteran soldier's devotion to duty.

For all the talk about lowering the profile of the National Security Adviser, Haig's mishap has given new prominence to Richard Allen. He is probably destined to play a larger role in foreign policy, despite his own successful efforts to remove himself from day-to-day operations. Allen insists that he has no desire to encroach on Haig or indulge in maneuvers to enhance his own power, even though the Secretary has complained to Reagan about Allen's "disruptive" influence. Such charges, says Allen, are "utter, unremitting nonsense. I'm not the slightest bit interested in turf battles."

Allen may be speaking the truth, but there is clearly no love lost between him and Haig. One source of their conflict was Allen's attempt to place trusted Reaganauts in key State Department posts, a maneuver that Haig was largely successful in thwarting. Allen's recommendations of Hard-Liners Fred Ikle and William Van Cleave at State were rejected; nor was Allen able to prevent the appointment of an old Kissinger ally, Lawrence Eagleburger, as Assistant Secretary for European Affairs.

Allen wanted to go ahead with the Geneva meeting on SALT I scheduled for last week, but Haig insisted on delaying it until May 27. Allen argued that the encounter would give the U.S. a chance to reprimand the Soviets for violations of the treaty; the meeting would also reassure Western European allies, who are nervous about the more aggressive American policy toward the Soviet Union. Haig, on the other hand, thought the U.S. needed more time to work out its position.

Allen certainly appeared to be intruding on Haig's domain by giving a speech March 21 to the Conservative Political Action Conference that had not been cleared by the State Department. Officials at State--not to mention several NATO allies--were dismayed to read that Allen had abrasively chastised West Europeans for their "pacifist sentiments" in the face of the Soviet threat. Complained a senior British official: "It is the single most unhelpful and misinformed foreign policy statement to come out of Washington since the Administration took office." The State Department was also riled when one of Allen's key aides, hawkish Sovietologist Richard Pipes, was quoted by Reuters as saying that detente was dead and that the Soviets faced the choice of evolving along Western lines or going to war.

An air of mystery has always surrounded Allen, as if no one is sure what he is going to do next, even if it is not likely to be too dramatic. An avid student of foreign affairs since his days at the University of Notre Dame, where he earned his B.A. and M.A., Allen, 45, has frequently run into opposition because of his unyielding hostility to the Soviet Union. He joined the Nixon presidential campaign in 1968 and was soon elevated to chief foreign policy adviser even though he was then only 32. After the election he joined Henry Kissinger's NSC staff, but soon ran afoul of his boss and was eased out. He still does a creditable imitation of Kissinger's guttural accent.

Out of Government, Allen became a consultant for various businesses overseas, a career that was almost ended when he crashed his Beechcraft Bonanza while landing, suffering five compound fractures in his lower body. As a result he has a loping gait that gives the look of an energetic sea captain walking the deck in unsettled waters. That appearance was appropriate for the troubles that confronted him in his profitable enterprises. There were constant rumors that he had benefited unduly from his connections with the Nixon White House. A damaging expose in the Wall Street Journal a few days before the 1980 election threatened to eliminate him altogether from the Reagan team, but Ed Meese came to his rescue. Always loyal to those who are loyal to Reagan, Meese examined the allegations and gave Allen a clean bill of health. After a brief absence from Reagan headquarters, Allen returned as Foreign Policy Adviser.

During the transition period, Allen was given high marks for smoothly handling the swirl of diverse viewpoints and personalities. Since the Inauguration, complaints have risen again. Some White House colleagues feel he has not assembled his NSC staff swiftly or skillfully enough. Like his patron Meese, he seems to lack an eye for detail. Allen's ego may be smaller than Haig's, but not by much. Ambitious and restless, he may eventually claim more of the deck than he does at present, but he will probably move too adroitly to inspire mutiny.

Perhaps the most disturbing element of last week's flap is that energy has been dissipated, in petty feuds over rank and prerogative, that might more usefully have gone into the formulation of foreign policy. Nothing dramatic has gone wrong, but time has been wasted by a group that tends to dawdle too much over procedure as it is.

So far the internecine warfare has not caused undue alarm abroad. While the West Germans are somewhat concerned that their good friend Haig may be undercut, the French feel that the Reagan Administration at least has a coherent policy, in contrast to Carter's. Says a high-ranking French diplomat: "Bush is Haig's political rival, not his ideological one. Right now it is a question of power, not substance. We don't give a damn which people do what as long as there seems to be some agreement on essential questions." But the fact that the foreign policy row among the Reaganites was over form rather than substance, procedure rather than policy, makes it all the less excusable.

--By Edwin Warner.

Reported by Laurence I. Barrett and Gregory H. Wierzynski/Washington

With reporting by Laurence I Barrett, Gregory H Wierzynski/Washington

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