Is Alberto Gonzales Stupid?

Is Alberto Gonzales stupid? That was the question posed at dinner last night. My uncle felt that there was no question that he is. I disagreed. I think that - within limited parameters - he's brilliant. And the proof is a moment from one of his performances in a hearing that I excerpted in my new film, Taxi to the Dark Side, about the Bush Administration's torture policy. (The film premieres at the Tribeca Film Festival on April 28.)

Gonzales "brilliant career" has a limited focus: serving his patron, advancing his position and surviving. He's been called "Fredo," recalling Michael Corleone's brother in The Godfather. But that's wrong: Fredo betrayed his brother, never rose to a position at the seat of power and ended his career at the bottom of a lake. Gonzales is more like Tom Hagen. But that's not quite right either. In some ways, he resembles Levrenti Beria, the man who ran Stalin's NKGB in a sycophantic way meant to confirm Stalin's conspiracy theories. But perhaps the most compelling analogy is Gollum: a creature pulled hopelessly and inexorably by the lure of power.

Gonzales is the consummate bureaucrat. With the moral direction of a cockroach, he skitters around in the footnotes of the law, avoiding fundamental principles, in an effort to survive. Let's remember: this is the man who told Arlen Specter that there was no affirmative right to habeas corpus in the Constitution, only a prohibition against its suspension. Let's admit: that's technically correct and meaningless. His brilliance comes in his extraordinary ability to remain determined, unflappable, and dilatory in the face of withering criticism. There's no smoking gun with Alberto; in fact, by intention, there's no there there. And that's how he eludes being stampeded out of the government.

This is the lawyer, formerly employed by Enron, who hid Bush's DUI conviction and prepared 57 death-penalty memoranda - all urging death and many ignoring clear evidence for clemency - for Bush's virtual assembly line of executions. (As noted in the Atlantic, "During Bush's six years as governor 150 men and two women were executed in Texas - a record unmatched by any other governor in modern American history.") This is the man who, as counsel to the President, advised his client how to commit a crime against humanity: torture. Yet, even knowing that, he managed to keep his head down in the midst of evasions and obfuscations long enough to be confirmed the leading law enforcement official of the United States. Once installed, he appears to have been far less interested in serving the Constitution - his real job - than his political bosses. In doing so, he has corrupted the rule of law and, through his belief in executive power, traded the principles of the Magna Carta for Machiavelli's The Prince, a handbook for maintaining power and justifying evil actions if they serve a just purpose.

His brilliant moment in Taxi to the Dark Side comes when he is being grilled by Senator Carl Levin and Senator John McCain about the rules of evidence proposed by the administration in its version of the Military Commissions Act. Sen. Levin recites a litany of torture techniques - including waterboarding and forced nudity - and asks Gonzales if testimony obtained through these techniques would be admissible in the military commissions proposed by the Bush Administration. "Well sir, I think most importantly, I can't imagine such testimony would be reliable," says Gonzales. He cleverly sounds like he has answered the question, but he hasn't, and so the proceedings move along.

Then John McCain asks Gonzales if testimony obtained through illegal inhumane treatment would be prohibited. After this question, Gonzales pauses, starts to speak, stops, seems to search for mendacious inspiration - does he hear the words "my precious"? - tries to speak again and then finally, after a chilling pause of 20 seconds he answers, "The concern that I would have about such a prohibition is what does it mean, how you define it?"

Brilliant! Torture: it depends on how you define it. The answer is insipid, immoral and obscene.

But, in a Machiavellian context, it is not wrong.