THE INAUGURATION: Nixon II: A Chance for New Beginnings

AS Richard Nixon began his cherished “four more years,” the stands before the Capitol were filled with the usual spectators-dignitaries, members of the frustrated U.S. Congress and Nixon’s own somewhat besieged bureaucracy. But another varied cast of characters could readily be visualized as symbolic spectators: world leaders; the chief participants in the Viet Nam negotiations; the American P.O.W.s and the American antiwar movement -which, in perhaps its final gesture, was staging demonstrations near by. Though Nixon only briefly spoke of Viet Nam, the consciousness of the war and the prospects of a precarious cease-fire hovered over the proceedings.

Nixon’s Inaugural Address indicated that his quest for “a peace that will endure for generations” remained his primary goal and world affairs still concerned him most. In a restrained, muted speech, he spoke of America’s “bold initiatives” in 1972, and warned against “a time of retreat and isolation.” He also restated the Nixon doctrine enunciated on Guam in 1969: “The time has passed when America will make every other nation’s conflicts our own, or presume to tell the people of other nations how to manage their own affairs.”

Seeking to link foreign and domestic policies, Nixon declared that both abroad and at home the U.S. must turn away from paternalism, from an attitude that “Washington knows best.” He developed his familiar themes-less federal spending, more self-reliance. Said he: “Let us remember that America was built not by government but by people-not by welfare, but by work -not by shirking responsibility, but by seeking responsibility.” As if yearning for the world of his California boyhood, when self-reliance brought just rewards and fewer people were locked into an interdependence that required the helping hand of government, Nixon turned around John Kennedy’s most famous pitch for patriotism: “Let each of us ask, not just what will government do for me, but what I can do for myself.”

As Nixon defended this philosophy, it does not mean that he wants government to ignore its duties. “The shift from old policies to new will not be a retreat from our responsibilities, but a better way to progress,” he promised. But, as interpreted by many Congressmen, worried mayors and various advocates of federal social programs, Nixon was setting the stage for an onslaught against the liberal domestic policies of past Democratic Presidents. His State of the Union message this week, and his budget presentation next week, will pinpoint the programs to be cut. “The President’s budget message,” predicted one of his aides, “will be akin to the firing at Fort Sumter.” At a time when federal funds are running short, such cutbacks neatly fit his essentially conservative social attitude. Nixon watchers are sure that he has moved far away from his first-term notion, inspired by the tutelage of Pat Moynihan, that “Tory men and liberal policies are what have changed the world.”

Bankrupt. Nixon has dispatched managerial experts throughout his Administration to analyze programs, eliminate those that do not work, and seek ways to cut out waste. Instead of specific grants, Nixon intends to disburse federal funds to local governments, first through unrestricted general revenue sharing and then, if Congress approves, through special revenue sharing for broadly categorized aims. Under attack will be federal programs in public housing, rural assistance, education, health, and public employment.

Even liberals have to admit that too much money has been spent for too long on ineffectual schemes, that many of the old programs are bankrupt. In large part these programs were created because state and local governments had failed to meet genuine needs; there is no guarantee that they will do so if the Federal Government now withdraws. Despite the alarms of Nixon’s opponents, and some of his own rhetoric, no one can to tally reverse the trends of several generations; many of the programs are irrevocably locked in the modern American system. Still there is no doubt that Nixon means to cut-and cut deeply. Just how deeply will define the politics of the coming year and perhaps of the entire second term. Says one presidential adviser: “Our adversaries will argue that the President is against education or that he doesn’t care about little children starving to death. We will be accused of greed and being meanspirited. If we can articulate our position better, we might succeed.”

In recent months it has been Nixon’s tactics more than his aims that have made much of Congress and the bureaucracy apprehensive: his decision making in seclusion, his failure to consult Congress or inform the public. Noting that some of the Administration’s friendliest columnists, such as James J. Kilpatrick and William S. White, have turned critical, one presidential aide conceded: “Maybe we have made some mistakes since the election. We should be playing the role of the magnanimous victor. We should be more open.”

Viet Nam will continue to affect the U.S., as the fate of Nixon’s “peace with honor” rests on the shaky base of the Saigon government’s survival. The echoes of the Christmas bombing will linger, and partly account for the odd lack of triumph in Washington as the cease-fire approached; the terms of the settlement will be bitterly debated for years to come. Yet the obsessive preoccupation with Viet Nam is bound to recede, and thus a relieved President may turn more conciliatory as he leads the U.S. into the complex postwar world. Said Nixon in his address: “Let us again learn to debate our differences with civility and decency, and let each of us reach out for that precious quality government cannot provide-a new level of respect for the rights of one another.” Indeed, government cannot provide that. But a President could-by setting a tone and an example.