Caroline Kennedy, daughter of the late President John F. Kennedy, speaks at the Wilkes University student center in Wilkes-Barre, Pa.
President-elect Barack Obama's cabinet selections have kicked off an interesting game of musical chairs here in the nation's capital. Drawing from the ranks of the U.S. Congress, he has, thus far, named two sitting U.S. senators and one member of the House to senior positions in his administration. How those Senate seats and his own will be filled and who will take them is very much a subject of discussion, here and elsewhere.
Although Senate seats rarely come open in this way, they set off a storm of political activity when they do.
In most states, the governor has an absolute power of appointment to fill an empty Senate seat. Interest groups and individual donors, party solons and the press all take a vacancy as their cue to weigh in on what (or whom) a particular state needs. But as almost anyone who has ever seen the film classic "Mr. Smith Goes to Washington" knows, it's usually the governor's decision—and only the governor's. A governor is free to ignore everyone and everything when making an appointment, save the counsel his or her conscience provides. That, governors ignore at their own peril.
Nonetheless, the chattering classes do what they can to influence the selection.
And chattering they are, over the seemingly pending appointment of Caroline Kennedy to the seat in the Senate now held by Secretary of State-designate Hillary Rodham Clinton, a seat that, coincidentally, was occupied by her uncle, Sen. Robert F. Kennedy, when an assassin struck him down during his 1968 campaign for president.
Coming from outside the political class but not—unusually for this particular Senate seat—from outside the state, Caroline Kennedy is a link to both a glorious time in our nation's past and to a postpartisan hope for the future that began with the Obama campaign. Very much her mother's daughter (recall that Jackie Kennedy tried very hard to stay out of the public spotlight after leaving Washington and did much to shield her children from it), Caroline Kennedy is both a familiar face and a new political commodity.
She has entered the arena and is traveling around New York to introduce herself to the electorate and to "listen." Her detractors, and their number seems to increase daily, are attempting to derail her bid to win the appointment from Gov. David Patterson—who is himself both an unelected chief executive and a "legacy" in New York Democratic political circles. In an effort to stop her appointment, they have focused on the idea that she lacks the qualifications to be a U.S. senator.
Having just been through this over the question of Alaska Gov. Sarah Palin's candidacy for vice president, we are again faced with the prospect of career partisans attacking a woman who has just entered the arena from outside it—way, way, outside it.
In much the same way that black politicians, at least prior to Obama's election, were damned with faint praise when cited for their "eloquence," the overarching focus on "qualifications"—especially as they apply to women seeking elective office—is little more than an attempt to score a few quick, easy points and push them out of the way. It is unseemly, and it is wrong.
The real objection seems to be that Kennedy is part of a political dynasty but has somehow not earned her stripes. History tells us the nation is of a mixed mind on that idea.
On the one hand, the populist streak at our political core rejects dynasties as un-American. It is certainly true the Founding Fathers eschewed the idea of a hereditary monarchy or an aristocracy, going so far as to forbid in the Constitution itself the awarding of titles of nobility. This nation is a meritocracy where hard work, intelligence, and luck can enable the least among us to achieve fabulous success in a single generation. Or fall just as far in the other direction in the same period of time.
On the other hand, consider John Adams, the principal mover in the drive for independence inside the Second Continental Congress. Adams, the nation's second president, was father to the sixth and founder of a political and cultural dynasty that continued in importance almost to the 20th century. And of the first 10 presidents of the United States, six sprang from the landed Virginia gentry that produced George Washington.
In the modern era, we have the Tafts of Ohio, the Roosevelts, the Chicago Daleys, the Browns of California, the Bushes (of everywhere), and, yes, the Kennedys. Names that are loved and reviled with equal passion among the American electorate and are, to be candid, difficult to beat whenever they appear on the ballot. And so the discussion of "qualifications" is raised, as though our natural revulsion over the idea of entitlement should be enough to derail a nomination or an election or an appointment.
But what are the qualifications to be a U.S. senator? Article I, Section 3 of the Constitution says a senator must be at least 30 years old at the time of taking office; must have been a U.S. citizen for at least the past nine years; and must, at the time of election (or, in this case, appointment) be an inhabitant of the state he or she seeks to represent. So, in the strictest sense, Kennedy is easily qualified.
But what about in the broader sense?
James Madison, writing in Federalist 62, explained that the more stringent qualifications for the Senate than for the House of Representatives result from the need for a "greater extent of information and stability of character." As there is no obvious reason to doubt Kennedy meets this standard, she hits the mark here, too.
It is difficult to say what, other than the constitutional provisions, qualifies a person for service in the Senate. Certainly, one may hope that any aspirant to such high office has integrity, is of sound mind, is possessed of love of country and its institutions, has respect for the law, and possesses an interest in and ties to the community he or she seeks to represent, a vision for the future, perhaps even a record of sacrifice that points to the sincerity of his or her convictions. There is nothing to suggest Caroline Kennedy does not have those characteristics, while there are many things to suggest she does, in abundance.
It is OK to say that she is not the right choice for New York. Or to point to her lack of experience as an elected official and say that it would be a detriment to the interests of the state. Or to say that you don't want her in the Senate because she's a Kennedy and there are already enough of them in Congress.
The one thing you may not say is that she's "unqualified" because, by any reasonable standard, she is.
Peter Roff is the former political director of GOPAC and former senior political writer for United Press International.
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