OK. I admit that I haven’t read — and do not plan to read — the McGreevey book. But I know enough about his approach from his Oprah interview and the rather generous news coverage to understand how false of a confession he is offering. David Rebovich offers this critique, which I think sums everything up:
Like everyone else who covered New Jersey politics or worked in or around the State House, I long ago heard that McGreevey was gay. He notes that Christie Whitman knew when he challenged her in the 1997 gubernatorial race. Surely tere were some fascinating back stories about how he convinced political leaders that he could conceal his private life and whether anyone besides Golan Cipel had threatened him with exposure to try to get special treatment. As New Jersey’s own Jon Stewart of THE DAILY SHOW said right after McGreevey announced his resignation, imagine what he must be hiding if his best option was to admit to his wife and parents that he is gay, repeat that admission on national television, and give up one of the most powerful governorships in the nation.
Well, if you decide to read McGreevey’s book, you will learn that according to the former governor, the only thing he was hiding was a dissembled, inauthentic, and non-integrated personality. Oh, and a slew of gay sexual encounters, as well as some heterosexual ones, since age 14, including a relationship with Cipel that the former special counselor on anti-terrorism and homeland security still denies occurred. According to McGreevey, his biggest political mistake was creating that position for Cipel. One suspects that most New Jerseyans would add to that colossal error some other big ones, including more ill-advised patronage appointments, hikes in taxes, irresponsible borrowing schemes, fast-track development legislation, and raising expectations about changing the way Trenton does business and then elevating pay-to-play to an art form until he was almost out of office.
Except for some prophetic discussion of John Lynch’s obsession with power and McGreevey’s own willing surrender to the boss and pay-to-play systems, THE CONFESSION does not contain much about politics besides some predictable banter. McGreevey does claim that he wanted to accomplish big things in certain policy areas, like the environment, open space and education, and briefly discusses this near the end of the book. But he concedes that he did not accomplish much in office.
He ends this way:
McGreevey tells readers that after leaving office he was close to having a breakdown and spent a month in a clinic. That stay was necessary and beneficial. But the former governor also notes in a few places in THE CONFESSION, including in his discussion of his stay at the clinic, that he has memory problems. He has trouble remembering certain actions and events, apparently because he has long been in the habit of repressing painful, embarrassing memories. His lengthy therapy seems to entail keeping some of those memories at bay while he works to piece himself back to a point where he can handle, emotionally and intellectually, his own past.
This is by no means an unusual therapeutic technique. However, while it may do McGreevey good, it does leave unfulfilled New Jerseyans who seek the truth about their former governor’s political career, his administration, and how politics works in their state. As such, people who are inclined to buy this book may want to wait for its sequel, when a hopefully healthier McGreevey can write a complete confession that contributes to improving politics in the state in a way that the former governor never did when he was in office.
This about says it all.
South Brunswick Post, The Cranbury Press
The Blog of South Brunswick
Hank Kalet 