White House Chronicle

News Analysis With a Sense of Humor

Getting a Seat at the Table

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Think of this as a primer for all of those, like the sufferers of the awful disease Chronic Fatigue Syndrome, who need to be heard in Washington and aren't. Silence has a price.
 
There are two branches of lobbying in Washington. The first is big lobbying, with big money making big campaign contributions. The second is everyday lobbying, which is quietly effective, scarcely organized and part of the fabric of decision-making. Call it "informational lobbying."
 
Congress cannot expected to be knowledgeable about a myriad of issues, and this is where the lobbyists perform their often more innocent function. Simply, they know stuff. Their advice isn't always objective, but it's informed.
 
Certainly, Congress has the best research available through the Congressional Research Service of the Library of Congress and all the executive branch agencies. But it's a lot easier to call a friend, where a question can be asked and answered in the vernacular: “Joe, what's the story on the helium shortage?” It can be argued that, at this level, lobbying is not suspect but efficient.
 
Proximity is a force in Washington, familiarity a lever. There are no fingerprints; it's how the system works. A chance meeting in a restaurant can change the course of policy; influence a congressional opinion about something obscure but important, like the Endangered Species  Act, which is now receiving attention on its 40th anniversary.
 
The indictment of this informal lobbying regime is not that it exists and works, but that if you aren't at the table, you won't be heard. Woe betide those who don't have a lobbying operation, however modest, in Washington.
 
The lobby-less must suffer in obscurity: no lobby means no input. No conversation after church or at a kid's soccer game means no information is spreading about actions and decisions that will have impact down the line.
Make no mistake, proximity means a lot in the informing of government. A few casual words will often trump a great academic study.
 
For the past several years, I've taken a keen interest in Chronic Fatigue Syndrome (CFS), also known as Myalgic Encephalomyelitis. It's a disease associated with the suppression, for reasons unknown, of the immune system. To get it is to contract a life sentence of daily suffering, often so severe that patients can be bedridden for years. They think of themselves as “the damned.”
 
This community has issues with the federal government; specifically with the Department of Health and Human Services, which has oversight of the National Institutes of the Health. Yet the advocates for CFS — many of them superbly articulate – aren't heard in Washington.
 
This is very clear, at the moment, when the department, acting through the NIH, has signed a contract with the Institute of Medicine to, according to NIH, to develop “clinical diagnostic criteria” for CFS.
 
This has so enraged the top tier of 35 doctors and researchers in the field that they — risking good relations and future research funding — have written to HHS Secretary Kathleen Sibelius, imploring her to halt this folly. The Institute of Medicine doesn't have expertise in this field, according to the CFS doctors.
 
Most CFS specialists agree that an effective definition of the disease, known as the Canadian Consensus Criteria, is working fine and should be retained. Confusion and expense from Washington aren't needed. A wrong definition can be destructive to research, treatment and patient well-being. It will have consequences.
 
But the protests may have come too late, as knowledge of what the NIH was up to came too late.
 
To me, this bureaucratic shuffle by HHS is an example of the dangers of not having a presence in Washington. Government responds to pressure. No presence, no pressure, no result — or worse, a bad result.
 
You don't need huge money to lobby. Effective lobbying is often a case of simply being there and being known to be there: walking the halls of Congress catches the attention not only of Congress, but also wayward federal departments and the media. — For the Hearst-New York Times Syndicate

Where Are the Dog Days of Yesteryear?

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The Greeks started the whole thing by calling sultry summer weather “Dog Days,” blaming it on the brightest star in the sky besides the Sun, Sirius, also known as the Dog Star. But it was the Romans who really took it seriously: They sacrificed brown dogs to appease the rage of Sirius and ameliorate the weather.

Now, could it be that the Dog Days in Washington are a thing of the past?

The weather has been foul enough, but where is the cessation of news? Where are the soft, feature articles masquerading as news that marked the metaphorical Dog Days? Where are the lesser politicians trying to get noticed for bills they have introduced that will died in committee?

It used to be at this time of year, when Congress was preparing for its long summer recess, things just slowed down, practically flat-lined. Washington emptied; the traffic thinned; no reservations were needed in restaurants; and clubs, like the Metropolitan and the Cosmos, opened their doors to non-members.

While there has been some summer flight, the journalistic and political intensity continues apace. Not only is this an election year, but the whole structure of political reporting has been revolutionized.

In a time of journalistic agony in most publications, political reporting is booming, fed by new technologies and cable news. Well, that is on the surface; out of sight, the furnace is fed by money, lobbying money.

If you want Congress to pass legislation favorable to your interests, or not to pass something unfavorable, then you hire a slew of lobbyists. They, in turn, place “advocacy” ads and the political media are off to the races. These ads appear on air, on line, on paper and on our doorsteps. Some media outlets charge hefty subscription fees, like Congressional Quarterly and National Journal, others are given away. But all seek and promise to lift the veil of secrecy in Washington.

The reporters—for Roll Call, The Hill, The Daily Caller, and hundreds of blogs clustered around publications and television channels, mainstream newspapers and wire services–slice, dice, puree, chop, blend, mix, pound, julienne, mince, whip and, sometimes, flavor the news. But mostly they feed the rapacious, 24-hour news cycle by blowing the slightest slip of the tongue, the smallest infraction of decorum, the inadvertent utterance into national events.

The remarkable new entry in the field is Politico, which exploded on the scene with the considerable fortune of Robert Allbritton, chairman and chief executive officer of Allbritton Communications, which owns television stations in Washington and elsewhere. As an example of innovative multi-platform publishing, it is an exemplar.

The impact in the surge in political reporting across the board is questionable: too many peas of news in mattresses of words. There is no time to investigate, and none to ponder. Better to be first and wrong than second and right.

One result of the swelling ranks of political reporter is politicians have clammed up. It is unwise for them to say anything that has not been vetted by their staffs. Hence, their infatuation with social media.

Here in high summer, one realizes that the glorious lazy, hazy Dog Days are a thing of the past; a time to do that interview you had put off, to try to be little more creative with your writing, to talk the bureau chief or editor into an off-beat story. No, instead, hundreds of political reporters are looking for something, anything, to fill today’s void. Was a congressman seen with a pretty woman (Damn, it is his daughter!)? Did a senator misspell something on her Facebook page?

It is this frenzy for faux news that brought us stories like Acorn, Shirley Sherrod, and the endless sightings of President Obama with known socialists? Whew!

Bring back the ancient Dog Days, but spare the brown dogs.