THE ADMINISTRATION: Shaking Up the Bureaucrats

MOST recent U.S. Presidents have suffered the frustration of issuing orders to the vast federal bureaucracy they supposedly commanded—only to discover that nothing happened. Insulated by layers of officialdom and protected by an almost biological instinct for self-perpetuation, the bureaucratic organism stubbornly resists change. But the votes indicating his huge re-election landslide were barely counted when Richard Nixon took a mighty swipe at this governmental inertia. He demanded that some 2,000 of his politically appointed men in sensitive spots throughout Washington submit their resignations. He would decide who should stay and who should go.

The move was an extraordinary one for a President whose electoral triumph could be interpreted as approval of what he has been doing all along. Nixon's determination to shake up his Administration was, among other things, a hopeful sign that he was not necessarily content with the status quo. He seemed determined to grapple with a basic realignment of Cabinet-level departments as he strives for what he described as a Government that would be "leaner but stronger." The move also stirred new speculation about how he would handle such diverse personalities as his former Treasury Secretary, John Connally, Foreign Policy Adviser Henry Kissinger and others on his own myriad White House staff.

The resignation demands, sent under the name of Nixon's chief of staff, H.R. Haldeman, were blunt: "The President has requested that you forward to him an indication of your personal plans or preferences regarding your possible service in the Nixon Administration. This should be accompanied by your pro forma letter of resignation to become effective at the pleasure of the President." The purpose, declared White House Special Counsel Harry Dent, is "to cut back and sharpen up. There's going to be a lot of change. The President is the quarterback."

However commendable, the new and abrupt presidential pressure embittered some loyal subalterns who felt that they deserved at least thanks for their all-out re-election efforts before being grilled about their futures. The wife of one White House aide, noting that her husband was in no position to complain, called reporters to protest: "All those months of work, work, work, and at the end the President says—'Resign.' " What most worried some able officials who had intended to leave the Government anyway was that now it would look as though they had been pushed out rather than jumped.

Not even Cabinet members who had worked on an almost unprecedented scale for a President's re-election could be certain of just where they stood. One by one they were trooping into the secluded wilderness of Camp David to be asked by the President about their personal plans and their intentions for their departments. All faced a Dec. 15 deadline for presenting written evaluations of how their divisions, including small units rarely studied in searching detail before, were performing, and what each hoped to accomplish during the next four years.