WASHINGTON — On this anniversary of the attack on Pearl Harbor, orators are reminding us that December of 1941 was the last time a president asked Congress for a formal declaration of war. The war in Iraq, like all the others since World War II, was fought without such a vote.
The congressional decision in the autumn of last year to authorize the use of force in Iraq remains controversial, as the Democratic presidential candidates who supported it — Rep. Dick Gephardt, and Sens. Joe Lieberman, John Kerry and John Edwards — are criticized by Howard Dean and others who place themselves on the other side.
Louis Fisher, the authority on congressional-executive relations at the Congressional Research Service of the Library of Congress, is one who argues that the failure was not personal but institutional. While joining those who challenge the intelligence the Bush administration used to justify the pre-emptive attack on Saddam Hussein’s regime, Fisher is even more critical of the lawmakers who sanctioned the action.
In the fall issue of Political Science Quarterly, he writes: "Month after month, the administration released claims that were unproven" about weapons of mass destruction and links between Iraq and al-Qaida. "For its part, Congress seemed incapable of analyzing a presidential proposal and protecting its institutional powers."
"The decision to go to war," he concludes, "cast a dark shadow over the health of U.S. political institutions and the celebrated system of democratic debate and checks and balances. The dismal performances of the executive and legislative branches raise disturbing questions about the capacity and desire of the United States to function as a republican form of government."
That may seem to you, as it does to me, too sweeping an indictment. But Fisher throws down an important challenge when he zeros in on a pattern of congressional behavior that has seen legislators sidestep the question of peace or war.
He quotes from the House International Relations Committee report supporting the Iraq resolution: "The committee hopes that the use of military force can be avoided. It believes, however, that providing the president with the authority he needs to use force is the best way to avoid its use."
As Fisher notes, that has become a common pattern in dealing with possible conflict. He likens it to the Gulf of Tonkin resolution in 1964, which Lyndon Johnson used as authority for the escalation in Vietnam.
The problem, he says, is that such legislation "would decide neither for nor against war. That judgment, which the Constitution places in Congress, would now be left in the hands of the president."
Some may say that presidents, with all of their national security apparatus, are better positioned to make the call than 535 members of Congress. But the Constitution says otherwise, that collective wisdom is to be preferred. Because this situation is likely to recur, this is not a personal or partisan question. Congress needs to reassert its role and step up to its responsibility.
Barber Conable Jr., one of the most estimable congressmen of the past generation, whose many contributions far exceeded his fame outside the Capitol, died last week. A Republican from the Rochester, N.Y., area, Conable was notable for maintaining a clear compass on both fiscal and social issues during a 20-year span that began with the liberal enthusiasms of the Great Society and ended in the middle of the Reagan counterrevolution.
A Marine during World War II, Conable made his mark as the ranking minority member of the Ways and Means Committee, a man whose views commanded respect on both sides of the aisle. Former Rep. Dan Rostenkowski, the Democratic chairman during part of that period, said, "Barber was a Republican, but first and foremost, he was a legislator. And he understood what it took to put a bill together."
He was also an unofficial press spokesman for the GOP House contingent during those decades when Democrats enjoyed unbroken control, prowling the Speaker’s Lobby and employing his brains and sense of humor to remind reporters — who valued him as highly as did his colleagues — that there was more than one side to the story.
From his antique desk, he personally composed newsletters to his constituents that rivaled those of his Democratic contemporary, the late Mo Udall of Arizona, for their wit, their candor and their atypical modesty. He was a marvelous example of what the House at its best can be, and when he retired voluntarily in 1985, he performed a further service as president of the World Bank.
David Broder is a Washington Post columnist. Contact him by writing to
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