Harold Koh is an enigma wrapped in a mystery. In case you didn't read this New York Times story yesterday, please do so now. The puzzle to be solved is whether Koh changed his mind about presidential power, and, if so, why. The author of the piece tells us almost nothing that would allow us to solve this puzzle. At first, it seems as though Koh admits to having changed his views (boldface added):
For Mr. Koh, criticism from his old allies is wrenching. In an interview at his State Department office, decorated with memorabilia from his beloved Boston Red Sox, his voice thickened as he talked about colleagues from academia now taking sharp issue with him. “I love these people, many of them,” he said. He understands that his critics feel betrayed, but he feels misunderstood; his friends are failing to appreciate that the “Old Harold,” as they now call him, has a new job. “I am changing roles,” he said. “People’s lives have seasons.”
A few paragraphs later, however, he appears to deny changing his views (boldface added):
A mix of partisan and personal sympathies could be at work. Mr. Koh, a Harvard College and Harvard Law graduate, is a Democrat who owes his Washington rise to the Clintons, with Hillary having selected him for his current post and Bill, as president in the 1990s, having made him assistant secretary for democracy, human rights and labor at the State Department. Pressed on whether he felt pushed by Secretary Clinton and President Obama to take a view counter to his personal beliefs, he insisted that “I am not in a position where I feel I am choosing between my principles and my service.”
So which is it? Has Koh changed his views, or has he not? My theory is this. Koh realized, when he went into governmental service, that his academic life had been a play life, devoid of responsibility. When you have actual power, and not merely the play-power of academia, you are overwhelmed with the real-world implications of what you say and do. Professors, whether in the classroom or in their published writings, have the luxury of not being responsible for events in the world, including life-or-death events. This inclines them to take radical, even preposterous, positions. (Think here of Peter Singer, whose dominant aim seems to be to shock.) Indeed, there is pressure to be more radical than one's peers, as a way of garnering attention for oneself. (Think here of the academics who argue for an absolute prohibition of torture, when they won't even advocate an absolute prohibition of terrorism!)
If this theory is correct, then why doesn't Koh acknowledge it? The reason, I think, is twofold. First, he doesn't want to admit that his scholarly writings were mere play-writings. He wants to maintain the illusion that they were serious and important. Second, he may one day return to academia, and he doesn't want to antagonize his colleagues by saying or implying that their world is detached from the real world. He's trying to have it both ways: He wants to be responsible in his governmental job, but without criticizing (even indirectly) his academic colleagues. The only way to do this is to be coy. No wonder the author couldn't get an answer out of him!
Addendum: Compare the treatment of John Yoo with that of Harold Koh. This is the progressive double standard at work. Support the "misguided" policies of a hated president and you are vilified, hounded, and persecuted; support the "misguided" policies of a beloved president and you are subjected to mild, respectful criticism.
