Maybe tomorrow will be David Paterson’s last day in office. Or maybe the next day, or some day next week. A lot of people are saying that his resignation is inevitable.
But the governor just might be able to stick around to fight another day — to finish the job he inherited and hand over the office keys at year’s end to an elected successor. Improbable, yes. But possible, if Paterson remembers what he said at the beginning of his tenure.
And even if Paterson doesn’t last much longer, there’s a lesson here for the next governor and other officials.
Think back to March 17, 2008, a day of good feeling in the Capitol, with warm wishes for the new governor all around amid what appeared likely to be a new era of candor in Albany.
It wasn’t just extraordinary that Paterson had become governor through the nearly unfathomable humiliation of Eliot Spitzer in a prostitution scandal. After the unmasking of the hidden Spitzer, it was refreshing to see in his place someone who seemed a man of good humor and humility with a habit of telling the truth.
“There’s work that needs to be done,” he said, after taking the oath of office. “There’s trust that needs to be restored.”
And then on Day 2, with his wife by his side, Paterson talked about the affairs that both had engaged in during what they said was a troubled time in their marriage. He said he wanted to be “straight” with a public that “wants to know who their elected officials are.” Honesty, he said, makes for better government. “I just thought I’d govern more responsibly” by being open with citizens, he said.
Well, yes. If only.
Instead, a state budget was crafted in even greater secrecy than in previous years, with Paterson yielding to legislative demands for ever higher spending. The governor filled a U.S. Senate seat vacancy through a weird cat-and-mouse process that annoyed even his best friends. Odd reports emerged from state government of a chief executive disengaged from the hard work of governing. Paterson often seemed to be absent from the workplace.
The work of a governor, like that of a president or a successful legislative leader, demands the daily exercise of political skills. Paterson seemed to have only sharp words in his arsenal, and when they failed, he switched to playing the role of a pathetic victim of powerful special interests. Neither tactic endeared him to citizens or yielded results in the Capitol.
Then came this week’s report in The New York Times about allegations that the aide arguably closest to Paterson had beaten the woman he lived with, whose repeated complaints to a court fell silent after a visit from State Police in the governor’s security detail and a phone conversation with the governor himself.
Now Paterson has a different notion of openness with the citizens he serves. Thursday night he repeatedly refused to answer questions about anything having to do with the matter at hand, telling reporters that talking would interfere with the investigation being led by Attorney General Andrew Cuomo.
Actually, now that he has given up his campaign to win a full term as governor, candor places Paterson at risk only if he has done something criminal. As he should have learned from his revelations of infidelity, New Yorkers are willing to forgive bad judgment and even stupid acts; as his declining popularity in the months since should have underscored, we’re not so generous with behavior that smacks of scandal or incompetence.
Granted, I have a self-interest in hearing the governor’s story. Where I work, we collect information, package information and offer information to the public. So you may see advocacy for government openness as a ruse to acquire more of the raw material that our process demands.
But public information concealed is in what scientists would call an unstable state. As the writer Stewart Brand famously observed, information wants to be free. One public official after another has brought on self-immolation by cover-ups more damaging than any revelation. How often do we have to learn the lessons of Watergate, a generation later?
Pragmatically, a public official who practices openness has a chance to shape the narrative surrounding what’s being revealed. Morally, there’s this: It’s the right thing to do. Might David Paterson still have an allegiance to that objective?