Revolutionary History

John J. Pitney, Jr. from the October 1998 issue

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This book has weaknesses. First, it's the memoir of an active politician who must still appeal to voters and deal with the colleagues he writes about. Works in this genre lack the candor of, say, The Confessions of St. Augustine. In Gingrich's telling, he regarded last summer's abortive internal coup as a series of misunderstandings among well-intentioned people. Press accounts indicate that he was a wee bit angrier than he lets on here.

Another problem is more peculiar to Gingrich. Though he has a lively mind, he often lacks intellectual discipline, undercutting himself through overstatement. In Lessons, he talks about Washington Post stories "designed to keep us off balance" and approvingly quotes a GOP consultant that media polls are "deliberately" biased against the GOP. Bias yes, conspiracy no. Mainstream reporters surely see the world through a liberal lens, but it's hard to prove that they are intentionally skewing their own stories.

In the same vein, he wisely advises against underestimating the skill and tenacity of Democratic politicians, then proceeds to overestimate their unity. When he depicts the Democrats as a lockstep party "committed to policies and institutions that often violate the public's sense of decency," he is indulging in caricature, not serious political thought.

His policy prescriptions are sketchy. Noting that the federal, state, and local levels of government now take up about 38 percent of our income, he proposes to set a peacetime limit on all taxes at 25 percent. "This should not, however, be done by passing a federal law," he says. "As with social security reform, I think we must have a national dialogue and build a national majority for these goals."

The book is quite specific on one policy issue: the highway bill. Though deficit concerns led him to postpone action from the fall of 1997 to spring of 1998, Gingrich calls it "a meritorious bill." He argues that the money would come not from general revenues but from a highway trust fund overflowing with proceeds from the federal levy on gasoline. That rationale raises an obvious question: Instead of spending all the money on concrete, why not slash the gas tax? Wouldn't that be a big step toward the goal of limiting the total tax take?

Gingrich suggests the answer: "[E]ven in a conservative Republican Congress the pressure for more transportation spending is enormous." He could have stricken transportation from that sentence. Though his own commitment to economic conservatism has been spotty (see "The Many Faces of Newt Gingrich," February 1997), the problem goes beyond the speaker's office. Committee chairs want power, which means bigger federal programs to supervise. Backbench members want re-election, which means more pork to take home. No matter how tight-fisted a leader may be, it is hard to restrain those pressures.

Would Republicans act differently if they had bigger majorities in both chambers, along with control of the White House? Maybe, but if the highway bill is any sign, nobody should expect a revolution. That's a lesson we've all learned the hard way.