The stranger: Thank you so much for allowing me to call on you incognito. You’re known as a wise old fox, and I imagine you will be able to figure out why I’m here and who I represent.

The chairman: Well, I don’t smell any sulfur, so I guess that narrows down the possibilities.

S: Let me begin by saying that, notwithstanding anything I or my associates may have said in the past, I regard your patriotism with the highest regard. Indeed, in the life of every nation there comes a time when it is necessary to reckon with the folly and shall we say miscreanthood of those who serve in high places, and I believe you have pointed out the way to such a reckoning.

C. In case you don’t read the papers, the Speaker and I have both declared that impeachment is off the table.

S. Ah, for sure. But if something is ruled off, doesn’t that mean it can be ruled on? Besides, who said anything about impeachment? There’s more than one way to skin a cat.

C. Yes?

S. Do you remember, for example, what happened to Nikita Khrushchev after the Cuban Missile Crisis?

C: You do know how to indulge an old man’s love for the past. What were those changes they brought against him?

S. “Commandism and hare-brained schemes.”

C. Ah yes. But that was the verdict of the Politburo. It’s a little different trying to dispose of an elected leader in a putative democracy.

But perhaps there is another way. Excuse an old man’s rambling, but my mind goes back to a time when your then-president was in a little a bit of trouble around some caper with scotch tape and wrenches. (Not wenches – that was one of ours.)

S. Well, I see your reputation as a wise old fox is not misplaced. You’ve certainly figured out who I represent.

C. I’ve been waiting for your visit for several years. But my goodness, back in the good old days there wasn’t any need to do anything so extreme as impeachment. Your predecessors were able to calm everything down just with a little visit. I believe the patriot on that occasion was a conservative senator from Arizona. And he just said a few words from the bottom of his party’s heart, and all the nasty impeachment business became superfluous.

S. Don’t think we haven’t thought of it. We even thought we had the vehicle for it – you know, establishment, bi-partisan, politically savvy. Unfortunately, the answer was given before we even asked the question – you know, the old song: No, no, a thousand times no; I’d rather die than say yes.

C. Well, Nixon didn’t want to go either, but I guess some of your boys made him an offer he couldn’t refuse.

S. We of course had that analogy in mind. But the problem is, it’s one thing to get authorization for a paternal spanking; it’s quite another to administer infanticide.

C. So you’re turning to me?

S. To do your patriotic duty.

C. In that case, you’ll understand that I am not interested in helping the Democratic Party commit suicide – which is what your pundits have said it will be if we mention the “I” word. And I’m not interested in facing the kind of abuse that your Wall Street Journal gave me for even mentioning things that I had actually never said.

S. I apologize for my confreres. And anyway, I’m sure you agree that sometimes we must all rise above party in the interests of our country.

C. And why should I believe your motivation is patriotic, when your Bob Novak just wrote, “We find widespread agreement among Republicans that U.S. troops must be leaving Iraq at the end of 2007 to avoid catastrophe in 2008”?

S. Ah, who knows what dwells, for good or ill, in the depths of the human heart?

C. You’ve got me there.

S. Besides, we’re hardly in a position to destroy you. At best, we might keep some elected officials from becoming former elected officials.

Hey, have you read James Thurber’s story “The Greatest Man in the World”?

C. Probably, but not in the past fifty or sixty years. The witness may refresh my recollection.

S. It’s a fantasy about the first man who flies nonstop around the world. The president, the secretary of state, and a few other notables hold a press conference to celebrate his achievement. Problem was, instead of being a noble gentleman like Charles Lindbergh

C. and a fascist sympathizer

S. Oh well, we all have our faults. Instead of being a noble gentleman like Charles Lindbergh, he is – let’s put it simply – a crass lout. You know, “When am I gonna get the money and the chicks?”

Of course Thurber draws it all out to perfection. The assembled national dignitaries fear a national humiliation. They all look around at each other in exasperation. Then they all look to the President. Finally, solemnly, he gives the nod. The Secretary to the mayor of New York, who had played tackle in college, grabs the Greatest Man in the World and pushed him out the window. The best line, pure Thurber: “’My God, he’s fallen out of the window,’” cried a quick-witted editor.” There was of course a period of national mourning, and the problem was solved.

C. Surely you’re not suggesting . . .?

S. Oh heavens no, nothing like that. I know that though you may be as cunning as foxes, you’re also as innocent as doves, or whatever. Nothing that would offend your, uh, faith in nonviolence. I meant it purely as a political metaphor. And speaking of doves, we know how deeply you are concerned about war and peace.

C. Ah, now it sounds as if negotiations have begun.

S. You have said it.

C. I am an old man and I have, as they say, no aspirations to higher office, at least in this sublunary world. If I had wished to amass a fortune, lord knows the opportunities were there aplenty, some of them even arguably legal. Now I couldn’t even enjoy spending it.

S. But you might have other interests?

C. Well, you were the one who mentioned doves. You might be able to do something about that. I keep mentioning my age, and I suppose that turns my thoughts to health. Then there’s all this business about global warming. And I think there used to be something called the right to vote . . .

S. You drive a hard bargain.

C. You’re asking me to sell out the interests of my Party.

S. But we’ll be right there beside you.

C. I can understand why.

S. I hoped you’d see it this way.

C. O.k. But there comes a time in every negotiation when generalities must yield to specifics. So I say to you:

I hold the fate of your party, and who knows, perhaps of yourself, in the palm of my hand. And I ask you:

What am I offered?

Jeremy Brecher is a historian whose books include Strike!, Globalization from Below, and, co-edited with Brendan Smith and Jill Cutler, In the Name of Democracy: American War Crimes in Iraq and Beyond (Metropolitan/Holt). He has received five regional Emmy Awards for his documentary film work. He is a co-founder of WarCrimesWatch.org.

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