COMMENTARY

Nothing To Joke About

By ROSEMARY GOUDREAU

Published: Jul 15, 2007

The first time I saw him speak, retired Gen. Colin Powell was at the top of his game. It was 1993 and he had just stepped down as chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff, a battle-tested leader of the first Gulf War and author of a landmark military doctrine about waging war only with overwhelming force and an exit strategy. He was humble and humorous, and I joined a standing ovation of people who believed he could become the next American president.

The last time I saw Powell speak - at the recent annual meeting of Leadership Florida - I walked out.

After listening to the former secretary of state's string of opening jokes, I realized I couldn't accept the conditions given his audience at the start - his remarks were "off the record."

In other words, Powell didn't want someone like me telling someone like you what he said.

How is it possible that a former secretary of state can get paid tens of thousands of dollars to speak to a crowd of about 600 people and expect to be "off the record?"

And why are we as Americans so quick to give a pass to people capitalizing on years of public service? Are we so enamored by celebrity that we'll muzzle free speech to see someone famous?

A Nation At War

The context in which Powell takes the stage today is enormously important.

We are a nation at war, engaged in a high-stakes debate about whether to pull American troops back from Iraq. Powell was secretary of state when the war started and he convinced a lot of Americans - myself included - that Iraq posed an imminent threat to our safety.

Former Sen. Bob Graham says it's believed only two people - Colin Powell and former British Prime Minister Tony Blair - could have stopped the Iraq war. Instead, the general will forever be remembered for telling the world that the evidence against Iraq was solid.

Only later, in his book, did we learn of his doubts. And last week in Aspen, he said he tried to talk President Bush out of going to war.

If that's so, why did he turn around and talk the rest of us into waging war?

And how come he was unwilling to discuss this paramount issue in Florida?

Powell considers himself a private citizen no longer obliged to lend his voice to the public square. But he's not paid a handsome sum on the speaking circuit because he's a private citizen. As a key former leader, his audience expects him to say something meaningful and stand behind it.

Instead, he opens with a comedic routine meant to draw laugh after laugh.

He waxes wistfully about missing his official jet - the red carpet, the band and the ever-present Diet Coke. He notes how reporters don't call anymore and the difficulties of getting a gig on "Larry King Live." He recalls how Time magazine named him one of five Americans aging most gracefully and how he voted for himself many times over, coming in second between Paul Newman and Robert Redford. And he talked much too much about a healthcare Web site he's invested in.

But it was his joke about an airport security guard that motivated me to leave.

After buying a one-way ticket and carrying no bags, Powell said he was pulled aside for screening. The security guard recognized him and apologized for the inconvenience. Given that his identity was known, Powell asked the guard why he was wasting time searching him when he should be helping to find bin Laden. Somehow it sounded funny when he said it.

But with men and women dying in Iraq, it seemed untimely and undignified for Powell to fawn wistfully over his plane, promote his new business and laugh about finding Osama bin Laden.

Just the day before, Dr. James Humes, a speechwriter for five American presidents, told the assembly that when giving a speech, it's important to consider the context. No one wants to hear the winner of the Nobel Peace Prize begin his remarks with a joke about a goat, a duck and a bartender.

Neither do I want my former secretary of state to be a comedian. I want him to talk about the world as only he can.

Powell is often paid to speak about leadership, but leadership means talking about the hard stuff, too, even when it makes you unpopular or doesn't make you look good.

Later, I checked with friends to see if the general ever said anything meaningful that day. They said he spoke about the need to close the detainee camp at Guantanamo Bay, something he's said for years. And he talked about President Bush looking into the eyes of Russian President Vladimir Putin and seeing his soul. When he looks into Putin's eyes, Powell reportedly said, he sees the KGB.

What "Off The Record" Means

Dr. Bob Steele, an ethicist at St. Petersburg's Poynter Institute, a think tank for journalists that also owns The St. Petersburg Times, said it's not unusual for former government, business and military leaders to request anonymity on the speaking circuit. But he encourages organizations to consider the consequences before accepting such terms.

"Too often we give protection to people who don't deserve it," he said. "It's why accountability in our society is diminished."

Unless a meeting with a newsmaker is advertised as off the record, Steele said a journalist who paid to attend such an event is not legally or ethically bound by a last-minute directive. Case law makes it clear, he said. "We don't have an agreement with somebody unless we agree to it."

Leadership Florida is a tuition-based program sponsored by the Florida Chamber of Commerce that annually selects a class of 55 people to attend seminars with newsmakers and experts across the state. During the class year, it's agreed that what's said at sessions is "off the record" to promote candid discussions. But because the annual meeting is open to guests, the sessions are on the record unless a speaker requests otherwise.

When a speaker goes "off the record," most people don't realize that the rule applies to them, too. And in my world, accepting this constitutional condition means you're willing to go to jail rather than tell anyone what was said.

But the rule means different things to different people, which is why journalists try to clarify the terms before granting anonymity. Most sources mean you can use the material, but don't identify them. Others might be willing to give you information so long as it is verified through other means. Absolutists would hold that you can't even mention Powell made a speech.

Like my fellow classmates, I have interpreted the group's "off the record" rule to mean that off-hand remarks won't be repeated. But when it comes to formal presentations by newsmakers, I admit that I regularly shared what I learned with my husband and my colleagues on the Tribune's Editorial Board. Otherwise, what's the point?

Not long ago, journalists were discouraged from joining civic groups to keep from compromising their journalistic roles. But our profession has recognized that pulling so far back cost us dearly in understanding and connecting to our communities. Now we encourage participation within the limits of a strict ethics code.

Similarly, Leadership Florida encourages the participation of senior journalists because of our take on public life. But as quickly as the program embraces us, it asks us to compromise our journalistic selves.

Program leaders say that in the program's 25-year history of attracting prominent leaders to the annual meeting, Powell was the first to demand "off the record" status.

Given the spirit of citizenship created at these meetings, board members should refrain from granting anonymity to future keynote speakers.

Celebrity Over Substance

If Powell wants to withdraw from the public square, he has that right. But he should not collect high speaking fees while saying little of substance.

And imposing a gag order on his audience flies in the face of what he said recently on Larry King Live: "My impression has always been, be as open as you can with the public and with the Congress. Don't hide. Don't hide unless you are really protecting some jewels - absolute jewels that you cannot possibly allow to become public."

Powell's jokes were no such jewels and his remarks didn't merit the high price of admission.

Rosemary Goudreau is editorial page editor of The Tampa Tribune.