THE COWARD

If health secretary Donna Shalala had any guts she would quit over the
ban on federal funds for needle-exchange programs. But guts aren't a
valued commodity in Washington

Imagine you work at a research institute and discover a practice or a
device that can save tens of thousands of people from a painful and
life-threatening disease with no negative side-effects. You march into
your boss's office and inform him of the finding. He confirms your
data, and how important they are, and then says, "Sorry, no dice,
we're not going to pursue this idea." Why not? Because, he answers, it
may interfere with my career plans. If you had a shred of decency,
wouldn't you quit and seek employment elsewhere? Well, not if you're
Donna Shalala, the secretary for Health and Human Services.

Last week, Shalala was humiliated by President Clinton. She was
prepared to hold a news conference to announce that research confirmed
needle-exchange programs effectively curb AIDS, without encouraging
drug use. Therefore, Shalala was going to add, federal funding could
be applied to needle-exchange programs

It was a bold but sensible move. Drug-related cases account for about
one-third of the 600,000 AIDS cases in this country. Based on the
research, a needle-exchange program seemed a highly effective method
of stemming a virus that continues to spread unabated (even as the
mortality rate declines). AIDS experts fully expected the announcement
to be made.

Then the call came for the White House.

The president had decided it was too risky politically. Despite his
record high poll numbers, he apparently did not have the stomach to
confront the wrath of self-proclaimed virtue czar (and ex-drug czar)
Bill Bennett. So he hid behind the mouthings of his own drug czar,
Barry McCaffrey, who insisted that such a move would send a "bad
message" to the nation's youth. And Shalala all-too-dutifully went
along. With her visibly uncomfortable advisors standing by, she held
an absurd press conference in which she trumpeted the research
findings about the success of needle-exchange programs but left in
place the federal ban on funding for them.

With more AIDS victims condemned to die as a result of such a cowardly
decision, why doesn't Shalala quit in protest? If, as the supreme
political overseer of the nation's health, she can't get a program
that benefits the health of many people, then what is her raison
d'être? And what is the point of her collecting that government
paycheck? Surely, she could find another job -- and probably one that
paid better.

One could ask the same question of other Cabinet members who have had
to gag over other Clinton policies, like welfare. One quick answer is
that the United States lacks the tradition of honorable resignation
found in other democracies, where senior politicians and statesmen
will quit in order to express their opposition to a policy they think
is dangerously wrong. Here, Cabinet secretaries are more likely to
suck it up rather than walk away, even when grave matters of state are
involved.

There have been exceptions. Secretary of State Cyrus Vance resigned
over President Carter's decision to mount the disastrous rescue
operation for U.S. hostages held in Iran. Attorney General Elliot
Richardson resigned rather than accept President Nixon's order to fire
Watergate special prosecutor Archibald Cox. In more recent years, a
few mid-level State Department officials left out of disgust with the
policy on Bosnia. This is a slight record.

Certainly, not every disagreement is grounds for a dramatic exit. But
needle-exchange -- according to Shalala's own data -- is a
life-and-death matter. How can she silently accede?

This is not the first time Shalala has been in this spot. She was a
fierce critic of the welfare law that Congress passed and the
president signed in 1996. But she elected to oversee its
implementation rather than turn in the keys to her office. Yet two
senior Health and Human Services officials -- Peter Edelman and Mary
Jo Bane -- did resign in protest. Edelman and his wife, children's
advocate Marion Wright Edelman, were once close friends of the
Clintons. Still, he told colleagues, in a two-sentence statement, that
he had spent 30 years working to reduce poverty and could not in good
conscience be part of the team implementing a policy that would hurt
poor people.

Edelman and Bane left without much noise, but their honorable act did
earn front-page headlines. Maybe it ought to be taught in high school
civics courses. Maybe Shalala herself could draw some lessons from it.
It's not that she should be a drama queen and storm out of Washington
screaming, "It's my way or the highway." But there is a role in the
political system for a timely exit. The practice would enhance citizen
confidence in the government. People would be reassured to learn that
there is more to Washington than spin, careerism and
self-promotion.

For Shalala, such an act might restore some of her own credibility.
Her office denies that politics played a role in the decision to
continue the ban of federal funding for needle-exchanges. No one
believes that. It's a lie. One more far-too obvious instance of a
politician spinning to serve his or her own agenda (and to protect a
cowardly president) rather than to maintain some integrity. To stay in
her post, Shalala has to be publicly dishonest. That may serve the
president. It may serve her career ambitions. What it does not serve
are the people whose very lives are at stake.