Life’s Work: An Interview with George Mitchell

Ethan Hill George Mitchell was a working-class boy from Maine who grew up to be the majority leader of the U.S. Senate and, as envoy to Northern Ireland, one of the most respected peace negotiators in the world. Now 81, he explains his ethos in a memoir out this month: “I feel a great obligation to be helpful to a society from which I’ve received so much.” You’ve said that you use the same methods to resolve any dispute. What are they? First, there has to be a certain level of knowledge about the history and nature of the conflict. As an American working in Northern Ireland and the Middle East, I tried to fully inform myself by reading dozens of books about both conflicts. The second thing you need is a recognition that the people involved must own the resolution, because they’re the ones who will live with the consequences. On the first day of formal negotiations in Northern Ireland, I told the assembled delegates, who represented 10 political parties and two governments, that I had not come there with an American plan, or a Clinton plan, or a Mitchell plan. I said, “Any agreement you are able to reach must be your own.” That was very important in gaining their confidence. And nearly two years later, when I drafted the document that became the Good Friday Agreement, I was determined that every word in it be spoken or written by them. Third, you really must have deep reservoirs of patience and perseverance. I spent five years working on the peace process in Northern Ireland, chairing three separate sets of discussions. In the Middle East, I served two tours of duty, totaling about three years. The setbacks are many, and you can’t get discouraged. You can’t take the first or the second or the 10th no for a final answer. You just have to keep at it. Fourth, you have to gain the best possible understanding of the bottom line, or basic objectives, for each party. One of the most striking things about private disputes I mediate is how often people aren’t really clear about that, which makes it very hard to reach a resolution. Finally, you have to be willing to take a risk when it’s warranted. I decided to establish a firm deadline by which we would either succeed or fail in Northern Ireland, and it was a very close call. I was asked, “Why didn’t you do that earlier?” But it wasn’t just a matter of setting a deadline, it was timing, circumstance, the attitudes of the parties. All this, of course, is judgment. Download this podcast With warring factions, how do you start a dialogue? The challenge is not to get them to talk, because everybody will talk, but to get them to listen. This is true of humans everywhere: The receptors in our brain for information consistent with our prior beliefs are large and wide open, but the receptors for information that’s contrary to them are much narrower. So we don’t listen well to people we dislike or with whom we have a disagreement. It requires effort and discipline to get people to consider what the other side has to say. That’s why these things take so long. As an envoy and a senator, when you wanted to move people in a certain direction, how did you get them to listen to you? What authority you have is derived largely from the respect and trust you’re able to generate. I did the best I could by being open and fair. In the Senate you can’t please everyone all the time. You’re going to make decisions that anger some people. But shortly after I was elected majority leader, I met with Bob Dole, who was then the Republican leader. I said, “I know you’ve been around for many years and know much more than I do, but in my relatively short time, I’ve reached the conclusion that managing the Senate is impossible without some level of trust between the two leaders. So I’m here to tell you how I intend to behave toward you and ask you to behave toward me in the same way.” I told him that I would never surprise him. I would give him as much notice as possible of every action I intended to take so that he could consider his response. I would never criticize him personally or try to embarrass him. I would always be available to him if he had a concern, question, or issue he wanted to raise. I would, to the extent humanly possible, always keep my word. And I could tell he was delighted. We shook hands, and never once since has a harsh word passed between us in public or in private. We disagreed on much legislation. We negotiated vigorously. But we succeeded in not making it personal and always trying to understand and accommodate each other. Could you achieve the same bipartisan relationship today? It was difficult even then, because there was an inherent conflict. As majority leader, I was in charge of all the operations of the Senate, and at the same time, I was the leader of the Senate Democratic caucus. So I had an obligation to the full Senate and an obligation to the party. But you have to keep your priorities straight. Your primary obligation is to the country and to the institution. That doesn’t mean you surrender your principles. It means you understand that there are others who don’t share them and who are entitled to express and advocate their views to the fullest extent permitted under the rules. But it is more difficult today for a whole variety of reasons. First, the divisions in Congress are a reflection of the divisions in our society. Many members of the public hold and advocate contradictory views. They say, “We want you to settle this without partisan dispute.” But they also want it done in a manner consistent with their principles and beliefs. The challenge of political leadership is to reconcile those two requests. Second, technology has permitted the redrawing of congressional lines for the House so that the vast majority of seats are now held by one party, not by a particular candidate. So before the 2016 election you’ll know the outcome—Republican or Democrat—even if you don’t know who the person may be. Meanwhile, more representatives are running for and getting elected to the Senate and carrying with them the customs and mores of the House, which doesn’t need as much tolerance and bipartisanship to function. Another factor is money. Our political system is drowning in it, and it’s a truly corrupting influence. I travel all over America speaking, and I routinely ask audiences, “Does anyone believe that their member of Congress is more responsive to his or her constituents than to his or her donors?” In four years only one person has ever raised her hand—a woman in Washington. When, after the event, I asked her why, she said, “My husband is a congressman.” You obviously felt a very strong calling to serve your country in the public sector. Do you worry that the best and brightest are now moving into business, not government? It’s probably true that increasing numbers of young Americans are put off by the political process and not becoming involved to the extent that they once were. I think that’s a loss for them and for our country. As I say in my book, I feel very lucky to be an American. My mother was an immigrant from Lebanon. My father was the orphan son of Irish immigrants. They had no education. My mother couldn’t read or write English. They worked very hard at low-paying jobs all their lives, but they believed in the American dream. They had an exalted view of the value of an education, and I, their son, was lucky enough to get one. I’ve worked in law firms—I still work full time—and it’s very rewarding to get the job done and be paid well. I served on corporate boards for diverse businesses—Disney, Federal Express, Staples—with people who had a passion for the work, which was interesting and enjoyable. But there just isn’t any comparison between private rewards and rewards for public service. When I speak to graduates, I tell them that it’s human nature to strive for status, wealth, possessions, recognition, but the more you succeed, the more you’ll come to realize there’s more to life than that, and nothing matches serving a cause larger than one’s self-interest. Early in your career you were described as mild-mannered and cerebral. How does someone who’s not a natural extrovert become such a successful public figure? When I ran for governor and lost, that was the description of me. I read and heard so much of it that I came to believe it. I thought I’d never again be involved in politics and certainly couldn’t possibly win an election. But you learn from your mistakes and improve your performance. I don’t know how many thousands of speeches I’ve given, but every time, I try to do the best I can and hope it’s better than the one before. In politics, when you make a mistake, it’s on the front page, so you become clearly aware of your faults and work at it more. People also say you are extremely detail-oriented but never lose sight of the big picture. How do you manage that? Both are essential. In Northern Ireland we had to come up with a document about which each leader could say, “This is good for us, for our specific constituency.” At the same time, there had to be a broader vision of a society in which everyone was treated equally, regardless of background or religion—a society of tolerance and prosperity. So when I met with those politicians, I was very specific. I would say, “Look, you wanted ABC, and you’ve gotten it. The other side got DEF, even though you might not have wanted that. But the combination produces a society in which everybody can benefit.” You need to merge intense and in-depth knowledge of the specific facts with that larger vision to get people to act positively. You shocked everyone when you retired from the Senate. Why did you do it? I decided after my first election, when I’d come from way behind in the polls to win, that I did not want to spend my entire life in the Senate. I felt extremely fortunate to be there, but this was not going to be my last act. Although I don’t favor legal term limits, I wanted to limit myself. I was very much impressed by Senator Muskie, my mentor and friend, who left voluntarily to become secretary of state even though he’d been elected four times and probably could have been elected a couple more. When I decided to leave, I was reasonably certain I could have been reelected too. But I’d seen how the Senate consumed people, how serving and being reelected became not only the controlling but really the only factor in their lives. I wanted to serve, but I didn’t want to lock myself into that position. You then turned down a Supreme Court nomination to fight what would be a losing battle for health care reform. Have you ever had any regrets? A couple of times, when I’ve read court decisions I didn’t agree with, I’ve wished I’d been there to argue against them. The Citizens United case is one. I challenge anybody to read that decision and try to comprehend it. It is one of the least persuasive arguments I’ve ever read, based on wishful thinking, not the reality. To be clear, it didn’t create the problem of excessive money in politics. But it was like putting gasoline on a fire. Very, very unfortunate. But the answer is, you do the best you can in life. You make decisions on the basis of information you have at the time. And once you make them, you go forward and don’t spend your time agonizing over the past. The envoy jobs you later took on were seen as missions impossible, but you tried anyway. Why? We all get benefits from being citizens of this country, and with benefits come responsibilities. I anticipated the jobs would be very difficult, but I was asked to do them by the president of the United States. I also believe that there’s no such thing as a conflict that can’t be ended. Conflicts are created, conducted, and sustained by human beings. They can be ended by human beings. It takes a long time in some cases, but if I can get involved and help that happen earlier and save some lives in the process, that’s a good thing. You’ve led several investigations into institutional failures. How can integrity be spread through an organization where mistakes have been made? The larger the organization, the more important it is to have a set of values and messages from the highest levels to people that they—and how they do their jobs—matter. Of course, every human is fallible. I’ve made so many mistakes in my life, it would take several hours of interviews to go over all of them. Our country has made many serious mistakes. But we acknowledge them. We try to correct them. We try to prevent them in the future. It’s critical that people feel they’re part of an entity that values good conduct. Leaders have to convey that success is defined not just by maximizing profit but by doing it in a manner consistent with the law, ethical guidelines, and personal and corporate integrity. What do you consider your greatest accomplishment? I think the answer to that should be left for others, but I take pride in a lot of things. Family is one. I’ve got three lovely children, and my brothers, my sister—we’re all extremely close. I did some good things when I was in the Senate. We were fortunate in Northern Ireland, but really the political leaders there deserve the most credit. We weren’t successful in the Middle East. I guess if you forced me to identify one thing, it would probably be my scholarship fund. I spend about a third of my time on that now. I was 16 when I graduated from high school—insecure, uncertain, had never really been anywhere or done anything, couldn’t possibly have imagined what my life would be like. Meeting youngsters who reminded me of myself at that age sparked in me a desire to make it possible for every single child in Maine to have the same chance to go to college that I had.

Life’s Work: An Interview with George Mitchell

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