In their significant new book “The Dawn of Everything,” authors David Graebner and David Wengrow provide a new perspective on the last 12,000 years of human history. Rather than accepting the traditional view that cities grew only after agriculture overcame the hunter-and-gatherer lifestyle, Graebner and Wengrow argue that archaeological findings show that large settlements already had flourished without agriculture.
In their discussion of the origins (or lack thereof) of “the state,” the authors address the concept of power and how it is used. They provide a rather succinct statement of their position:
To understand the realities of power, whether in modern or ancient societies, is to acknowledge this gap between what elites claim they can do and what they are actually able to do. As the sociologist Philip Abrams pointed out long ago, failure to make this distinction has led social scientists up countless blind alleys, because the state is ‘not the reality which stands behind the reality of political practice. It is itself the mask which prevents our seeing political practice as it is.’
The late Sen. Carl Levin, who represented Michigan in Washington for 36 years, spent much of his time on Capitol Hill trying to take that mask off the government and allowing the populace to see political practice as it was. As described in his recently published memoir “Getting to the Heart of the Matter: My 36 Years in the Senate,” completed shortly before his death in 2021, Levin recounts what he actually was able to do and where he fell short.
That Levin chose a career in public service was practically preordained. He begins the book by listing the members of his family who also were in the public eye: uncle Ted Levin, a federal court judge; cousin Charles Levin, a Michigan Supreme Court justice; cousin Avern Cohn, a federal court judge; and brother Sandy Levin, a U.S. congressman for 36 years. But it was Carl Levin who almost certainly outshone them all.
In his development, the decidedly liberal Democrat Levin comes across as a series of contradictions — basically an elite common man. To help pay for his undergraduate college and law school education, he worked in three different Detroit auto plants. Of course, the schools from which he graduated were Swarthmore College and Harvard Law School.
This idea of the elite common man continued throughout his career. While he continually served in office from 1968 to 2014 and clearly cultivated power, his endearing image was that of a rumpled civil servant questioning a witness while peering through his trademark glasses perched on the end of his nose.
After graduating from law school, Levin had stints in private practice with the Michigan Civil Rights Commission and the Legal Aid and Defender Association. Following the 1967 Detroit riots, he ran for Detroit Common Council in 1968 and was elected.
While on the council, Levin writes of the lessons he learned that would help him as he navigated his way through various legislative branches. These included working with other legislators, compromise, listening to witnesses, and — not surprisingly — patience.
It was during his time on the council that Levin made his initial forays into the issue of governmental oversight, an area that would become his strength in Washington. As council president, it became clear to Levin that the U.S. Department of Housing and Urban Development was doing little to renovate the thousands of houses it owned in Detroit, and those houses were becoming eyesores and drug dens.
With the backing of the council and then - Mayor Coleman Young, Levin ordered the houses to be demolished despite a threat of indictment from the federal government. The houses came down, but no indictment followed.
In 1978, Levin defeated incumbent Sen. Robert Griffin and headed to Washington. He retired undefeated, having never lost an election.
Most of the book deals with Levin’s career in Washington. Rather than a linear trip, the author organized his memoirs by topic. Among the chapter titles: The Armed Service Committee, Protecting the Great Lakes and the Environment, and Ethics and Impeachment. While this gives the reader a complete (and, in some instances, too detailed) immersion into a subject, it is sometimes difficult to place those issues into the context of what else may have been happening in the country and the world at the same time.
One lengthy and fascinating chapter deals with what Levin refers to as the “capstone” on his career: his time on the Permanent Subcommittee on Investigations both as chairman and ranking member. His inside stories on investigations into money laundering, corporate tax dodging, hidden ownership of corporations and offshore accounts, and credit card companies showed his continuing efforts to pull the mask off government.
Two other chapters will resonate with followers of current events in Washington. In The Filibuster, Levin writes that he is steadfastly in favor of it. He fully believed in compromise and felt the filibuster led to better legislation. However, he would make one significant change to how it is used.
In the past, people had to continue speaking to maintain the filibuster. (Think James Stewart in “Mr. Smith Goes to Washington” for one of the better-known popular examples.) Such a practice is no longer necessary; rather, a senator announces a filibuster and the issue is sidelined. Levin would revert to the previous method, which would significantly reduce its use.
One other chapter of note is Bipartisanship, which seems to be nearly foreign in today’s political landscape. Levin speaks with pride of working with Republican senators — including Orrin Hatch, John McCain, Mark Warner, and Bob Dole — while trying to pass legislation or working on investigations. Levin also is effusive in his praise of his staffers, going so far as to list them in a six-page index at the back of the book.
Levin rarely is negative in discussing colleagues and other Washingtonians. However, there are exceptions, especially regarding the war in Afghanistan. Levin calls President George W. Bush’s decision to go to war with the support of Congress “the most misguided strategic decision by our government that I witnessed in my thirty-six years in the Senate.”
Levin, who voted against the war resolution, is quite critical of Vice President Dick Cheney and the president’s advisors, who he believes wanted war. Interestingly, Levin also has little good to say about Afghanistan President Hamid Karzai, whom Levin met on numerous occasions; he found him “full of himself and contradictions.”
The Senate that Carl Levin joined in January 1979 is almost certainly a different place from the one of today. To the most casual of observers, the concepts of compromise and collegiality seem to be as antiquated as the Rolodex or the landline. Their places have been overtaken by severe partisanship and lack of trust.
To a certain extent, “Getting to the Heart of the Matter” provides a blueprint for moving beyond the problems that plague governments today. It is a model that those in public service — or those considering a career in public service — would be wise to understand.