Moving Down a Middle Road

In an earnest speech, Carter sketches modest goals for a tranquil time

It was the formal start of his second year in office, and as he stood before the assembled leaders of the three branches of Government in the freshly carpeted chamber of the House of Representatives, flanked by TelePrompTers and with a huge American flag as a backdrop, Jimmy Carter was a President with a heap of problems--and a rare opportunity. After a disappointing first year, his ability to inspire the nation was in doubt, and his popularity was continuing to slide in the polls. The ABC-Harris poll placed his approval at 41%; a CBS-New York Times survey gave him a 51% rating. Yet the annual rush of late-January presidential messages, from the State of the Union speech to his budget and economic reports, presented him with a new chance to lift and lead. By most measures, he got off to a good start, turning his State of the Union message to the joint session of Congress into the most effectively delivered speech that he has made as President.

To be sure, the address contained no Clarion call for dramatic action. The President had long ago scooped his own news by disclosing his major legislative plans for the coming year. Nor were there any eloquent phrases; that is simply not his style. Conservatives could grumble about his revived talk of creating "voluntary" restraints on wages and prices. Liberals could complain that many of his populist campaign calls for aiding the poor and rebuilding the cities had apparently vanished.

Indeed, Carter seemed to be searching for a definable position in the broad ideological middle, sending overtures to both right and left as he philosophized about the limitations of Government and called for "a new spirit, a partnership between those of us who lead and those who elect."

Citing the lack of any "single overwhelming crisis" facing the nation, he presented a modest vision of Government's role in relatively tranquil times that may be more in keeping with what the people want than his increasingly outspoken critics realize. But whether the speech could achieve its main aim of building confidence in his ability to manage the U.S. economy remained open to question.

Recognizing the importance of the speech, the President had prepared for it like a prizefighter before a bout. He had his speechwriters supply six successive drafts, which he circulated to various Cabinet officers and aides for comment.

He heavily rewrote the final version, with advice from Wife Rosalynn. He repeatedly read the speech into a pocket tape recorder, rehearsed it with a TelePrompTer before an audience of close aides, and even took a rare afternoon nap on the day of delivery to avoid any signs of fatigue. As a result, he looked more rested and relaxed than in some weeks, and he was able carefully to moderate his singsong Southern cadence and stop stepping on his punch lines. In rehearsal the speech had taken barely 30 minutes to deliver; before national television it spun on for 47 minutes-- primarily because he was interrupted with applause 43 times.

In its main theme, Carter's address went far beyond his Inauguration-speech views on the limited capability of even a President to instill a new spirit in the nation. He broadened that philosophy this time, declaring: "Government cannot solve our problems. It can't set our goals. It cannot define our vision. Government cannot eliminate poverty or provide a bountiful economy or reduce inflation, or save our cities or cure illiteracy or provide energy . . . We simply cannot be the managers of everything and everybody."

That line drew strong applause. The theme was repeated as Carter added that "the American people are sick and tired of federal paper work and red tape" and reported progress on "turning the gobbledygook of federal regulations into plain English that people can understand." More applause.

But if, as Carter implied, Government must get off the people's backs and no immediate crisis looms, the current role for the nation's leaders is a more subtle one.

Said he: "It becomes the task of leaders to call forth the vast and restless energies of our people to build for the future." That is precisely the area in which the low-key Carter has yet to prove himself.

He tried to do so with his long-stalled energy bill, and he scolded the Congress for failing to pass it: "I know that it is not easy for the Congress to act, but the fact remains that on energy legislation we have failed the American people." Typically, Carter drew applause from Republicans by declaring that the final energy bill must increase production, then from Democrats by demanding that it must also ensure that "we cut down waste."

On the economy, too, Carter made bows to right and left. There were his proposals for a $25 billion cut in income taxes and a "lean and tight" budget, which should have pleased conservatives. Yet there was also an expanded program of public service jobs for unemployed young people, and strong endorsement for "early passage of a greatly improved Humphrey-Hawkins bill." While that pronouncement cheered liberals, it was not as sharply in conflict as it seemed with Carter's view of governmental nonintervention. The "improved" Humphrey-Hawkins bill sets a five-year goal of reducing unemployment to 4% (from the current 6.4%), but no longer includes mandatory action by Government to reach that elusive level.

The President was sketchiest in broad-brushing his goals in foreign policy, but he inspired the biggest ovation with a strong pitch for the embattled Panama Canal treaties. Carter broke from his text to declare with a grin: "I have to say that that's very welcome applause."

There was less response as Carter acknowledged past criticism of his open-mouth style of public diplomacy. Yet he was applauded on the Administration's diplomatic role in the Middle East, which he described as "difficult and sometimes thankless and controversial--but it has been constructive, and it has been necessary, and it will continue."

He was most effective when he turned more personal, toward the end, invoking the nation's flag-lowered mourning for Hubert Humphrey. The Senator's "joy and zest of living" provided an example of the "special American kind of confidence, of hope and enthusiasm," which, Carter suggested, ought to become contagious.

A great speech? No. Carter still did not inspire the degree of confidence, hope and enthusiasm of which he spoke. But for this President, and for this occasion, it was far from bad.

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