Connecticut's Governor Rowland Quits

Back in January, Governor John Rowland told the people of Connecticut that he had lied to them when he said that he had not accepted gifts from companies doing business with the state. He should have resigned right then and there, but for reasons of ego he chose to stay and fight for his job. Monday night, he saw the light and quit, five plus months too late.

He had run an apparently crooked administration for some time. His deputy chief of staff, Lawrence Alibozek admitted that he accepted, as the US Justice Department described it, "cash, gold and other items of value with the intent to be influenced and rewarded for taking favorable action for certain persons in connection with state business including business with the Department of Public Works." His appointee for state treasurer got 51 months in the slammer for taking bribes. And he seemingly got his summer home spruced up for free by a company that got $100 million in state contracts after the home improvements were finished.

The presumption of innocence here remains as important now as it was in January. Yes, it looks very bad, and his defense lawyer will need to make a good case should these charges ever result in an indictment. But in politics, the standards for corruption are much different. Mr. Rowland owed the state of Connecticut his resignation in January because the charges and the appearance of wrong-doing made it impossible for him to function as the state's chief executive.

There is an unfortunate flaw in American politics that makes resignation unpalatable rather than an acceptable political resolution to a problem. Robin Cook, MP, quit his Labour Party post in Britain because he couldn't support Tony Blair's support of Mr. Bush's war in Iraq. To stay would have been hypocritical, so he quit. What is it about Mr. Rowland that made him stay on as governor after admitting to his people that he lied about accepting what may legally be bribes, a far more serious situation?

Perhaps, it is because America has lost most of its sense of shame. Richard Nixon, facing impeachment in the House and certain conviction in the Senate, resigned to save himself the ultimate embarrassment. William Jefferson Clinton not only debated with lawyers about the definition of "is," but he also forced the nation to sit through the most ludicrous political hackery -- while Al-Qaeda plotted and planned. There is no shame in admitting that one has lost the political currency needed to get the people's work done; staying on is the shameful part.


© Copyright 2004 by The Kensington Review, J. Myhre, Editor. No part of this publication may be reproduced without written consent.


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