Gore and His Reinventions

by Alexander Cockburn And Jeffrey St. Clair

Gore reinvents himself on an almost daily basis. Nothing has been more comical than his “populist” posturings about the Republicans being the ticket of Big Oil and himself and Lieberman being the champions of the little people.

This is the man whose education and Tennessee homestead came to him in part via the patronage of Armand Hammer, one of the great oil bandits of the twentieth century, in whose Occidental oil company the Gore family still has investments valued between $500,000 and $1 million.

At the LA convention the headquarters of the Democratic National Committee was on the 42nd floor of the Arco building, and the symbolism was apt. In 1992 Arco (recently merged with BP Amoco) loaned the Clinton/Gore inaugural committee $100,000. In that same year it gave the DNC $268,000. In the 1993?94 election cycle it gave the DNC $274,000. In the 1995?96 cycle it ponied up $496,000 and has kept up the same tempo ever since.

Was there a quid for the quo? You bet there was. Early in Clinton-time, the President overturned the longstanding ban on the export of Alaskan crude oil. Why that ban? When Congress OK’d the building of the Trans-Alaska Pipeline in the seventies, the legislation triumphed by a single vote only after solemn pledges were made that the North Slope oil would always be reserved for domestic markets, available to hold prices down. Congress had on its mind precisely such emergencies as this year’s hike in prices and consequent suffering of poor people, soon to be trembling with cold for lack of cheap home-heating oil.

With the help of Commerce Secretary Ron Brown and Energy Secretary Hazel

O’Leary, Arco was also, at the start of the Clinton era, in the process of building refineries in China. Hence Clinton’s overturn of the export ban was an immense boon to the company, whose CEO at the time, Lodwrick Cook, was given a White House birthday party in 1994. The birthday presents to the

favorite oil company of the Clinton/Gore era have continued ever since. While the Democrats and mainstream Greens fulminate about Bush and Cheney’s threat to open up the Arctic National Wildlife Refuge, nary a word has been mentioned about one of the biggest giveaways in the nation’s history, the opening of the 23-million-acre National Petroleum Reserve?Alaska. Back at the start of the nineties Arco’s Prudhoe Bay reserves on Alaska’s North Slope were dwindling. Now Arco will be foremost among the oil companies exploiting a potential $36 billion worth of crude oil.

Gore’s “populism” is comical, yet one more facet of a larger mendacity. What suppressed psychic tumult drives him to those stretchers that litter his

career, the lies large and small about his life and achievements? You’d think that a man exposed to as much public derision as was Gore after claiming he and Tipper were the model for the couple in Love Story, or after saying he’d invented the Internet, would by now be more prudent in his vauntings. But no. Just as a klepto’s fingers inevitably stray toward the cash register, so too does Gore persist in his fabrications.

Recently he’s claimed to have been at the center of the action when the strategic petroleum reserve, in Texas and Louisiana, was established. In fact, the reserve’s salt caverns were filling in 1977, when Gore was barely in Congress, a very junior member of the relevant energy committee. The legislation creating the reserve had been passed in 1975. At around the same time as this pretense, the VP claimed to have heard his mother crooning “Look for the union label” over his cradle. It rapidly emerged that this jingle was made up by an ad man in the seventies, when Al was in his late 20s.

As a clue to why Al misremembers and exaggerates, the lullaby story has its relevance as a sad little essay in wish fulfillment. Gore’s mother, Pauline, was a tough character, far more interested in advancing Albert Sr.’s career than in warbling over Gore’s cot. Both parents were demanding. Gore is brittle, often the mark of the overly well-behaved, perfect child. Who can forget the panicked performance when his image of moral rectitude shattered at the impact of the fundraising scandals associated with the Buddhist temple in Los Angeles?

“He was an easy child; he always wanted to please us,” Pauline once said of him. The child’s desire to please, to get the attention of often-absent parents, is probably what sparked Gore’s penchant for tall tales about himself. Gore’s official CV is sprinkled with “epiphanies” and claims to having achieved a higher level of moral awareness. In interviews, in his book Earth in the Balance and, famously, in his acceptance speech at the 1992 Democratic convention, Gore has shamelessly milked the accident in which his 6-year-old son was badly hurt after being struck by a car. Gore described how, amid his anguish beside the boy’s hospital bed, he peered into his own soul and reproached himself for being an absentee dad. He narrated his entry into family therapy. But Tipper and the children didn’t see more of him as a consequence. Despite that dark night of the soul beside Al III’s bed, Gore plunged even deeper into Senate business and spent his hours of leisure away from the family, writing Earth in the Balance while holed up in his parents’ old penthouse in the Fairfax Hotel. Soon after, he accepted Clinton’s invitation to run for Vice President.

Gore’s a fibber through and through, just like Bill. A sad experience in the closing weeks of the campaign is to encounter liberals desperately trying delude themselves that there is some political decency or promise in the

Democratic ticket. There isn’t. Why talk about the lesser of two evils, when Gore is easily as bad as Bush and in many ways worse? The “lesser of two evils” is by definition a matter of restricted choice, like a man on a raft facing the decision of whether to drink seawater or his own urine. But in this election there are other choices, starting with Nader and the Greens. It isn’t just a matter of facing seawater or piss.

Alexander Cockburn’s Guillotined! and A Colossal Wreck are available from CounterPunch. Jeffrey St. Clair is editor of CounterPunch. His new book is Killing Trayvons: an Anthology of American Violence (with JoAnn Wypijewski and Kevin Alexander Gray). He can be reached at: sitka@comcast.net.

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