Back to the future? Toward revitalizing the study of the administrative presidency.

When the term "administrative presidency" was first coined by Richard Nathan (1983), it was focused largely on presidents selecting political appointees who shared their policy aims and wished to alter organizational structures, personnel systems, budgets, and decision rules in their agencies to accord with those aims. Nathan argued that it was a low-visibility strategy offering what recent scholarship calls significant first-mover advantages to presidents (see also Howell 2003; Kagan 2001; Moe 1989, 1993; Moe and Howell 1999). A Congress challenged by collective-action problems could not react to most administrative initiatives because of their sheer number, arcane nature, information asymmetries favoring presidents, and the opaqueness of bureaucratic operations.

Since then, empirical research relevant to the administrative presidency has offered mixed support for this perspective. Employing qualitative, statistically sophisticated, formal modeling, or choice theoretic analyses, some scholars have argued that agency outputs tend to respond to changes in presidential administrations, the comings and goings of political appointees, and other presidential shocks to the American political system (e.g., Wood 1988; Wood and Waterman 1994). In contrast, others have found agencies more responsive, alternatively, to congressional direction (e.g., Chubb 1985; McCubbins 1985; Scholz and Wei 1986; Weingast 1984); to multiple principals rather than just to presidents (e.g., Scholz and Wood 1998; Wood and Waterman 1994); to interest groups, subnational actors, and local contexts (e.g., Epstein and O'Halloran 1994; Scholz, Twombly, and Headrick 1991; Yackee 2006); and to various actors, depending on policy domain (Zegart 1999).

Other researchers have found bureaucratic responsiveness to aspects of the administrative presidency better characterized as a function of contingencies (e.g., Aberbach and Rockman 2000; Durant 1992; Golden 2000; Hammond and Knott 1996; Lupia and McCubbins 1994; Maranto 1993; Michaels 1997; Waterman 1989). These include the extent of change involved for bureaucrats, the extent to which presidential goals are clear, the perceived impact of a delay in complying with presidential missives, the type of agency involved, the culture of the agency, styles of administrative leadership, agency reward systems, and the availability of external employment. Others focusing largely on such unilateral tools of the administrative presidency as executive orders, presidential signing statements, presidential proclamations, and national security directives argue for the potency of these techniques in advancing presidential policy goals (Howell 2003; Mayer 2001; Warber 2006). Many among them worry about inordinate--and even unconstitutional shifts in--power to presidents (Cooper 2002; Fisher 2004; Ginsberg 2007; Pious 2007; Rozell 1994; Rudalevige 2002). Still others see invocation of the unitary executive theory as a relative weakness rather than a strength of presidents (Roberts 2008).

This article argues that despite the significant insights offered by prior research, assessments of the efficacy of the administrative presidency to date are both premature and in need of refocusing to comport with the realities of the American political system. In regard to prematurity, assessments must be withheld until four interrelated limitations of prior research are addressed. First, unlike early qualitative research on the topic, most recent research related to the administrative presidency has used neoclassical economics-based (e.g., principal-agent models) or statistically sophisticated research designs that marginalize the implementation processes accompanying these efforts to advance presidential agendas. Yet, like legislation, administrative initiatives are only the "starting gun" for battle, with interests and stakes for presidents that shift over time (West 1995). Moreover, this reality has not stopped many from praising or decrying the use of, say, executive orders and signing statements, as if issuing them were enough to ensure implementation. Relatedly, scholars have typically examined individual tools of the administrative presidency rather than the interaction of these tools over time as the implementation of presidential goals and priorities shifts to fit changing circumstances. Nor have they adequately built into their designs the reality that policy success requires parts of different national and subnational programs and agencies to work together (sometimes across sectors), making the alignment of various tools essential lest they undercut each other (Durant and Warber 2001; Hjern and Porter 1981).

Second, assessments of the administrative presidency typically are made in ways that suggest four implicit and unrealistic assumptions: (1) presidents and their political appointees think strategically about how best to coordinate the various tools of the administrative presidency across programs and agencies to successfully advance an incumbent's policy agenda; (2) various presidential policy aims pursued administratively are themselves internally coherent and do not work against each other when wielded by appointees; (3) bureaucratic principals and agents do not have policy aims of their own and do not try to turn presidential administrative strategies into tools for advancing their own agendas in targeted or related policy arenas; and (4) bureaucrats affected by administrative initiatives will not quickly alert elected officials and interest groups opposed to presidential goals to these administrative strategies, thus reducing, if not eliminating, the information asymmetry purportedly allowing presidents to frame the policy landscape in their favor.

Third, typical criteria for assessing the administrative presidency fail to incorporate the realities of presidential decision making. Contrary to the rational-choice-driven picture implied and modeled in recent research employing principal-agent theory, presidents' preferences often are not complete, fixed over time, or transitive. Presidents often know less about what they want to do than about what they do not want to do as they take real or symbolic action (e.g., to not run afoul of an important constituency or be embarrassed). Nor do their appointees as they issue unclear policy guidance to bureaucratic subordinates (Aberbach and Rockman 2000). Moreover, even when their preferences are fixed, presidents have multiple preferences that conflict during implementation and must be balanced or traded off. In the process, they often "learn what to prefer" during implementation over time as circumstances shift. In addition, even if adroitly crafted, political, budgetary, and personnel cycles in government mean that resources sufficient to realize presidential goals pursued administratively may be absent. Thus, presidents may initially acquire first-mover advantages, but these may not be compatible, well thought-out, or enduring.

Finally, most recent research fails to employ methodologies that are capable of incorporating these realities or evaluative criteria incorporating them. The common practice of assessing administrative strategies cross-sectionally, one administrative tool and policy goal at a time, and without focusing on implementation processes related to the interaction of tools and multiple presidential goals, violates the realities of presidential leadership in our Madisonian system. Therein, presidential aspirations must be recalibrated to cope with the separation of powers, checks and balances, increasingly overlapping policy domains, and limits on coherent strategic presidential initiatives within and across agencies. Thus, sophisticated statistical analyses may be sufficient to assess bureaucratic responsiveness (but see Meier and O'Toole 2006), but they are insufficient for assessing effectiveness. Nor do they explain the causal mechanisms involved, how much more effective administrative strategies might have been if used more deftly, and how much better any administration could have done under the circumstances.

Most suitable for informing such assessments, this paper argues, are longitudinal case analyses of the subsequent implementation of the tools of the administrative presidency, of their interaction amid shifting and multiple presidential priorities, and of the strategic and tactical savvy used by presidents as they learn what to prefer in shifting contexts. As H. Peyton Young writes, "neoclassical economics describes the way the world looks once the dust has settled; we are interested in how it goes about settling" (1998, 4). So, too, do cross-sectional statistical analyses, no matter how creative, sophisticated, and otherwise informative they might be. As such, research on the administrative presidency needs to return to its early implementation roots at this point to complement the insights made by researchers using more statistically based and economics-grounded principal-agent research designs that have dominated scholarship more recently.

To illustrate why future research needs to retake this path for our understanding of the administrative presidency to improve appreciably in the future, the paper takes as its analytical focus an epic struggle since the late 1940s--and most especially during the Bill Clinton administration--to use the administrative presidency to get the U.S. military to incorporate environmental and natural resources (ENR) values into its day-to-day operations. Chronicled is how and why various tools of the administrative presidency-reorganization, political appointments, decision rules, budgets, personnel structures, unitary tools, and government-wide administrative reforms--interacted over time with national security goals and changing presidential priorities to sorely compromise the president's greening goals for the military.

The paper begins by reviewing, first, how presidents tried to use various tools of the administrative presidency--most especially unilateral tools--to green the U.S. military during the Cold War with little success, and then how President Clinton aggressively used a variety of administrative tools to advance his greening agenda with substantially more progress. Sins of commission and omission, however, sorely diminished the impact of administrative strategies used to do so. Next, and informed by three representative cases culled from a larger study and illustrating the varying dynamics of greening the military during the Clinton years, the paper demonstrates how unrealistic are the implicit assumptions against which the administrative presidency is typically evaluated. Specifically, (1) elements of Clinton's administrative presidency worked at cross-purposes; (2) little effort was made to ensure a coherent approach to policy implementation; (3) elements of various administrative strategies were "weaponized" to oppose greening; (4) his administration's goals and priorities shifted over time with changing circumstances and as the White House learned what to prefer; and (5) bureaucrats and their interest group allies who opposed initiatives quickly overcame any information asymmetry favoring the White House. The paper concludes by reviewing the implications of the findings for future research.

The data informing the analysis are culled from a larger longitudinal study of the greening of the U.S. military (Durant 2007). They include extensive archival research of documents afforded by the agencies and interest groups involved; congressional hearings; testimony and reports from the Government Accountability Office (previously the General Accounting Office) and Congressional Budget Office; studies by the National Academy of Sciences and the National Research Council; and books, studies, and monographs by academic and military writers. The study also relies heavily on a systematic review of all articles appearing between 1993 and 2005 in the leading industry newsletter, Defense Environment Alert (DEA). Also informing the study are articles appearing in the Washington Post, New York Times, local newspapers near military facilities where issues have arisen, a variety of law and military journals, and the Federal Facilities Environmental Journal. Also conducted were repeated interviews from 1990 to 2007 with more than 100 individuals in the public and private sectors either working in, or authorities on, the greening of the U.S. military. Interviewees included top-, mid-, and field-level officials in the Pentagon, in the military services, in regulatory agencies at the federal and state levels of government, in national and grassroots environmental organizations, and in academia.

Greening, the Administrative Presidency, and the ENR Regulatory Dilemma in the Cold War Era

Presidents have long understood that "there are a lot of tools in the tool box for any president" to use besides legislation for attaining policy goals (Rutenberg and Myers 2007). However, the use of these tools of the administrative presidency for advancing the greening of the U.S. military during the Cold War typically was vague and ambiguous, and repeatedly suffered from minimal implementation on anything but the military's terms as it related to the scope, pace, and timing of greening over the decades. Only one day after triumphantly waving the famous "Dewey Defeats Truman" headline over his head, President Harry S. Truman issued an executive order requiring federal agencies to take all "practicable" actions to "cooperate" with states and localities to enforce air pollution regulations. Subsequent guidance from the military on what constituted practicable actions was watered down and underfunded, while cooperation was minimal.

Building on Truman's initiative, in 1958, President Dwight D. Eisenhower moved to extend his executive order to cover water pollution at federal facilities. Despite these orders, however, the decade of the 1950s witnessed only scant and tentative state enforcement of water quality laws given their power asymmetry with the military, and minimal military compliance ensued. This situation prompted President Lyndon B. Johnson in 1968 to urge Congress to "take steps this year" to address the "growing urgency" of noncompliance at federal facilities. Johnson's missive, however, went unheeded, with the next serious escalation of the compliance stakes left up to President Richard M. Nixon.

In the waning days of his administration, Nixon issued an executive order calling on federal facilities to eliminate air and water pollution and to comply with substantive pollution standards, just like any other person under the law. Left unscathed by Nixon's order, however, was the immunity of federal facilities from the procedural requirements of state and local laws and regulations. These included requirements to obtain permits, undergo inspections, and provide emission monitoring reports. No trivial matter, state regulators and environmental activists noted that giving federal facilities exemptions from ENR procedural requirements left them immune from regulation. Also, without Congress explicitly waiving sovereign immunity privileges for federal polluters, states had no legal recourse and lacked the resources to fight lawsuits.

Still, in 1978, President Jimmy Carter issued Executive Order no. 12088, instructing federal facilities to meet both the substantive and the procedural ENR regulations facing them. Yet, left unrebutted through the Carter years were the claims of federal facilities that the sovereign immunity doctrine made them immune from fines and administrative orders issued by either federal or state regulators. Indeed, Ronald Reagan's Department of Justice enunciated a "unitary executive theory" that remained dispositive throughout the Clinton and George W. Bush years: Federal interagency disputes over enforcement of ENR laws are disputes within the executive branch for the president (rather than the courts) to resolve.

More precisely, because federal agencies such as the Department of Defense (DOD) are "subparts of a unitary executive branch, [they] cannot sue each other because 'the executive cannot sue himself'" (Dycus 1996, 42). Such a suit would violate Article III of the U.S. Constitution because a "justiciable controversy" requires two parties in conflict, whereas the executive branch constitutes only one party. Ostensibly to circumvent these problems, the Reagan administration created a formal process whereby the Justice Department and the Office of Management and Budget (OMB) were formally charged with resolving agency disagreements. The Justice Department resolved legal disputes, while the OMB resolved management and policy disagreements.

Thus, by the time the Soviet empire dissolved in 1991, a series of presidents over the prior four decades had tried, to varying degrees and with little success, to create a commitment to greening in the Pentagon. But federal facility regulation was generally minimal, leaving the pace, scope, and substance of military greening up to the services. The regional federal facilities offices of the Environmental Protection Agency (EPA), for example, were persistently understaffed, underfunded, and almost exclusively left as appendages of program offices. Bequeathed to the post-Cold War era as a consequence was a regulatory regime that allowed the military needs of the Cold War to take precedence over ENR protection. It also was a system designed to preclude transparency and shield federal agencies as much as possible from state regulatory authority. Finally, it was a system that centralized power in the hands of any president's appointees at the OMB or the Department of Justice, so as to ensure that the costs of meeting ENR requirements were left as much as possible to federal officials rather than to the states, the courts, or citizen activists. The results were predictable: Taxpayers will have to pay anywhere from $340 billion to $440 billion to clean up contaminated sites on military and Energy Department sites, depending on the stringency of the cleanup standards applied (see more later). The DOD's share of that price tag was $27 billion and growing, placing it third behind federal debt service and employee and veteran pension benefits in terms of federal government liabilities.

Greening, the Administrative Presidency, and the Regulatory Dilemma in the Post-Cold War Era

Faced with these developments, the scope, pace, and intensity of trying to green the U.S. military administratively soared with the end of the Cold War. At least rhetorically, both the George H. W. Bush and Clinton administrations committed to go "beyond compliance" to make the federal government in general, and the U.S. military in particular, world leaders in cleanup, compliance, and pollution prevention. In 1990, for example, the Bush administration led passage of the Federal Facilities Compliance Act. Still, the Clinton White House launched the most sustained, persistent, and aggressive presidential effort ever mounted to green the U.S. military.

In the broadest sense, the Clinton administration pushed aggressively on the administrative decision rule front to make environmental security a key component of all national security policy making. Stating the case in 1993, for example, Clinton's appointee as deputy undersecretary of defense for environmental security, Sherri Wasserman Goodman, averred that ENR scarcities in poorer developing nations can interact with political, social, and cultural factors and policies to produce instability and terrorism. Similarly, Central Intelligence Agency director George Tenet stated that "our attention is increasingly focused on, and our resources committed to ... disruptions in the supply of food and clean water which threaten deaths from starvation and disease, refugee flows impacting on neighboring states, murderous ethnic and civil conflict, and even state disintegration" (1997, 22). Propelled by such thinking, environmental security was formally incorporated into the U.S. National Security Strategy as a component of the nation's strategic doctrine.

At the DOD and at the military service levels, the most notable initiative related to the unilateral tools of the administrative presidency was Clinton's 1999 Executive Order no. 13148, "Greening the Government through Leadership in Environmental Management." This executive order renewed and made more stringent the pollution control goals and timetables of a series of executive order issued by Clinton during the 1990s. Beginning in 1993, these included toxic releases (Executive Order no. 12856), pollution prevention (no. 12843), and ozone-depleting chemicals (ODCs) (no. 12969). Yet again, these were usually ambitious but vaguely worded and unsupported by additional funding for implementation.

Clinton also hit the ground running administratively during his first term with a series of structural, personnel, and decision rule changes designed to green the Pentagon and the military services. His first secretary of defense, Les Aspin, created the Office of the Deputy Undersecretary of Defense to raise, symbolically and practically, the Pentagonwide profile, significance, and rewards of incorporating ENR values. Faced with the previously noted organizationally disadvantageous situation, Goodman and her team hit the ground running. She announced to Congress an ambitious agenda for "ensuring responsible environmental performance in defense operations and assisting to deter or mitigate impacts of adverse environmental actions [on] international security" (1993, 2). To these ends, Goodman offered her "[C.sup.3][p.sup.2] plus technology" strategy. This acronym stood for aggressively accelerating "compliance, cleanup, conservation, pollution prevention, and environmental technology development" in "common sense" ways that would balance ENR considerations against military readiness needs.

Goodman next tried to use the reorganization tools of the administrative presidency to move into her office environmental policy making and budgeting responsibilities from the services, as well as to create a cadre of civilian ENR professionals with career tracks untethered to the military services. She also tried to create DOD regional offices paralleling the EPA's regions, in which all military ENR activities would be filtered, reviewed, and coordinated. In addition, she tried to create within her office a mechanism for consolidating all environmental research and development initiatives, thus reducing the services' influence over the substance, scope, and pace of greening.

Finally, President Clinton had another broader administrative agenda in mind that had major implications for greening and involved yet another unilateral tool of the administrative presidency: government-wide administrative reform. Specifically, he hoped to redefine his party's image and electoral viability, as well as institute a new relationship between citizens and their government by "reinventing" it. Clinton's National Performance Review (NPR) looked to bring "best business practices" into government to realize these ends. These included reducing overhead and streamlining infrastructure at all levels of public agencies, devolving authority, focusing on core competencies, deregulating administrative processes, building cross-agency and cross-sectoral partnerships, and outsourcing or privatizing support activities whenever alternative service suppliers existed. In addition to NPR-related efforts at the Pentagon during his first term, Clinton's third appointee as defense secretary, former senator William Cohen, launched what he called the Defense Reform Initiative (DRI) in 1997. Predicated on applying the best business practices just noted, the DRI was an NPR-intensified effort to reduce personnel in the Office of the Secretary of Defense (OSD) by one-third by eliminating some functions and by transferring noncore OSD functions to the military services or other defense agencies.

In the end, progress was made in greening the military during the Clinton era. By the end of fiscal year 2001, for example, the rate of new environmental violations issued against the services was 75% below the rate cited in fiscal year 1992, while hazardous waste generation was cut by more than 60%. Similarly, between 1985 and 1995, the DOD cut its overall fuel usage by 20% and its average facility usage by 13.9%, and the EPA awarded the DOD an environmental excellence award in 1998 for reducing pesticide use by 50% (IWP 1997b). Significant progress also was made on the pollution prevention front (IWP 2000a).

Still, progress on any of the dimensions mentioned here can be overstated. For one thing, "the downsizing of the military is an obvious factor" driving large portions of any pollution reductions claimed (IWP 2000d, 6). Moreover, not only are inconsistencies in the trend data provided by the DOD too pronounced to permit confident trend analyses, but also compliance rates ranged considerably across the statutes. In addition, any progress that was made came only after (if not in spite of) a sustained effort by the military and its allies to alter to its advantage the way the services could be held accountable to the nation's ENR laws (Durant 2007). For instance, Goodman's efforts to consolidate environmental research and development resulted in a complex and convoluted parallel structure into which the EPA was eventually invited. Likewise, civilian control over ENR personnel was fragmented by the splitting of responsibilities among civilian and military offices. As one inside military observer wrote at the end of the Clinton presidency, the "U.S. military [still] has little comprehensive or sustained environmental focus" (Henk 2006, 102).

Importantly, the military's resistance stemmed mostly from two other policy goals of the Clinton administration. First, Clinton appointees in the Pentagon's leading warfighting programs were bent on creating a "faster, more mobile, and more lethal" military in the post-Cold War era. But such weaponry requires decidedly more land and air space to train personnel, is harder on the environment, and puts military training operations cheek by jowl with citizens in the midst of suburban expansion near military bases. So serious did this base-suburban expansion become during the Clinton years that the Pentagon alleged, but never compellingly demonstrated to Congress's satisfaction, that ENR regulations had negative effects on training.

Second, the Clinton administration persistently increased the operations tempo of the U.S. military, straining it to a maximum. With repeated commitments of U.S. troops to troubled spots around the world during the 1990s--including the Persian Gulf, Somalia, Haiti, Bosnia, Kosovo, and no-fly zones in Iraq--Pentagon planners grew wary of any expenditures they perceived as threatening those commitments. As such, Goodman's counterparts in the OSD, Clinton appointees as service chiefs, and career military in the Pentagon consistently tried to frame greening as a threat to military readiness and weapons acquisition.

Into the Implementation Bog

Does a longitudinal analysis of the Cold War and Clinton administration experiences in trying to advance a greening agenda using the tools of the administrative presidency reveal generic flaws in the implicit assumptions that undergird assessments of the efficacy of the administrative presidency? To conclude that it does requires evidence that the five assumptions noted earlier are invalid. Turning to those assumptions, analysis of the Clinton administration's use of the administrative presidency reveals that this was the case:

1. Little evidence exists that the various tools were used collectively in a strategic sense to advance that goal, and no one foresaw or tried to anticipate how they would interact.

2. The use of various tools by political appointees to pursue multiple and interrelated presidential goals in different program areas within and across agencies interacted in uncoordinated ways to complicate and compromise Clinton's greening goals.

3. The priority of different White House goals shifted over time as political and organizational contexts changed, making the priority of various tools of the administrative presidency wax and wane over time.

4. Rather than comply with any of these administrative initiatives, appointees and bureaucrats (a) evaluated potential impacts on their policy goals before supporting or opposing them; (b) used them as weapons for advancing those goals; (c) parried over their implementation, with outcomes dependent on the relative power and influence within the OSD of program units and actors; and (d) produced consequences that complicated the White House's administrative reform, warfighting, and greening agendas.

5. The policy goals pursued administratively did not go unchallenged by Congress, the states, and interest groups, but were contested, thwarted, or diluted during implementation.

To see why, we turn next to three representative cases among more than two dozen reported in seven narrative histories in a recent study of the greening of the U.S. military (Durant 2007). The three cases involved efforts to green the Pentagon's acquisition processes, to make management systems more environmentally friendly, and to set "worst first" cleanup priorities for contaminated sites on military bases. Review of these cases makes clear that a research focus on individual tools rather than on their interaction over time during implementation and across policy goals limits understanding of the administrative presidency.

Greening the Acquisition Process by Changing Decision Rules

A prime example of how President Clinton's use of the administrative presidency was marred by a lack of strategic direction and integration is the administration's effort to green the Pentagon's acquisition process. The Clinton White House failed or was unable to coordinate the appointee, funding, and decision rulemaking components of the administration to advance the president's greening agenda. At the heart of this misalignment were competing goals of the Clinton administration--each being pursued administratively but with scant coordination among the initiatives and with priorities shifting over time. To these were added unclear guidance, funding shortfalls from Congress, reprogramming of funds by Clinton appointees, enduring Cold War enforcement-driven priorities, and even turf consciousness by fellow appointees in the administration.

The most immediate and visible impetus for greening the acquisition process began in 1987 when the United States signed the Montreal Protocol on Substances That Deplete the Ozone Layer. Under the original terms of the protocol, chemical manufacturers were to reduce their emissions of five chlorofluorocarbon (CFC) chemicals by 50% (1995) and 85% (1997) of their 1986 levels, respectively. By 2000, they were to eliminate CFC, halon, and carbon tetrachloride production, and then to stop producing methylchloroform by 2005. The protocol was amended later to end all CFC production and "all but essential" halon production by 2000.

The challenge for the Pentagon was that the U.S. military was among the world's largest consumers of ODCs. Thus, after the United States signed the Montreal Protocol, the Reagan Pentagon joined the EPA and industry representatives in an ad hoc working group to identify alternative cleaning agents for CFC solvents used by the military. After the inauguration of President George H. W. Bush, Defense Secretary Richard Cheney directed the services to reduce their long-term dependence on CFCs and halons and to identify mission-critical uses of ODCs. Once identified, substitutes were to be found or exceptions granted until replacements were available. Importantly, the Bush administration left it to each service to determine the definition of "mission critical," issuing no clear definitional guidelines administratively. Ultimately, the services categorized approximately 35% of their 1989 ODC purchases as mission critical and thus eligible for continued use, with definitional inconsistencies rife in these determinations.

Upon taking office, Clinton issued an executive order pushing all federal agencies to amend their procurement procedures and policies to reduce the use of ODCs "to the maximum extent practicable." For the services, this meant identifying any military specifications (milspecs) and standards requiring the use of hazardous substances and toxic chemicals and revising them accordingly. Also consonant with his NPR initiative, Clinton issued Executive Order no. 12856, stipulating that the DOD was to reduce toxic chemical emissions by 50% from 1993 levels by 1999.

Prompted by these presidential initiatives and the spiraling costs to the Pentagon of tedious milspec review processes, Clinton's secretary of defense, William Perry, launched the DOD's Acquisition Pollution Prevention Initiative in 1994 under the general rubric of the president's NPR initiative to apply best business practices to Pentagon operations. Under this program, the Pentagon was to "dismantle [the milspecs] empire" (IWP 1994d, 26). Implementing Perry's charge, Clinton's appointee as Pentagon acquisition chief, John Deutch, authorized the military to replace milspecs with various national and international standards (e.g., the American National Standards Institute/American Society for Quality Control, ISO 9000, and ISO 14000) when issuing contracts for new weapons systems.

Internecine bureaucratic warfare over inconsistent White House messages quickly ensued among Clinton appointees within the OSD, with Goodman charging that the administration's NPR-related efforts to deregulate the acquisition process at the Pentagon were giving short shrift to environmental considerations. The rub, of course, was that the White House's administratively driven offensive regarding the acquisition program was animated by three contradictory principles. Two, called for re-regulating the acquisition process, while the third (NPR) pushed for deregulating it. The three principles were (1) rewriting acquisition standards for ODCs and other pollutants to discourage the use of environmentally destructive products, (2) ceasing to write prescriptive and procedurally based acquisition standards under the NPR initiative, and (3) moving toward more process-oriented international standards such as ISO 14001 and the National Aerospace Standard 411.

Led by another Clinton appointee--Colleen Preston, deputy undersecretary of defense for acquisitions--the NPR-related process action team pursuing deregulation was not even asking industry to provide information on ENR issues. Distressed, and importuned by Goodman, Congressman Mike Synar (D-OK) commissioned a General Accounting Office (GAO) study of Preston's initiative. Synar also made sure that an ally of Goodman's became the lead DOD person on the probe (IWP 1993). Capitulating, Preston announced that reducing toxic pollutants in weapons systems in the research and development process was to be a top priority in the Pentagon. The team then offered an integrated strategy for revising milspecs and standards to accomplish this end, and it recommended creating a high-level toxic pollutant panel headed by Goodman.

The process action team also warned that incorporating pollution prevention into the acquisition process "may require extraordinary resources" totaling nearly $68 million through fiscal year 1998. But the 1994 rout of the Democrats in the congressional midterm elections put Goodman on the defensive. Her ally Synar was defeated in the Democratic primary that year. Spawned in the aftermath of the Republican donnybrook were persistent budget cuts in DOD funding for pollution prevention projects. Nor did it help that the ODC review processes specified in Clinton's executive order "were unplanned and unbudgeted" in the services' five-year Program Objective Memorandum, yet another instance of misalignment caused by competing goals (IWP 1994a, 3). Also unhelpful was the de facto "procurement holiday" regarding weapons to help finance contingency operations in Bosnia, Kosovo, and the no-fly zones in Iraq. In proscribing the purchase of new weapons, the military had to extend the life of many ODC-dependent weapons beyond the Montreal Protocol's production deadlines (IWP 2000b).

All this meant that funding for ODC reduction had to come out of installation operations and maintenance budgets. But faced with an estimated $400 million in costs for developing and implementing ODC elimination plans at bases, along with the low-priority funding of ODC plans because they were not compliance driven (i.e., formally mandated in cleanup agreements), base commanders offered only a "'spattering' of funding" for ODC acquisition reform. The army, for example, slashed funding for pollution prevention in its fiscal year 2000-2005 Program Objective Memorandum in order to fund training pay, an increase in contingency operations (for operations in Bosnia), and a Defense Working Capital Fund bill (IWP 1998b). Most symbolically striking among these proposed cuts was the zeroing -out of funding for the M1 Abrams tank, the heralded "flagship" of the army's ODC retrofitting program.

The failure or inability of the White House or political appointees in the Pentagon to align resources with these greening goals was predictable. By 1997, the Army Acquisition Pollution Prevention Support Office reported that 90% of army facilities still were dependent on CFC refrigerants, and 800,000 pounds of halon remained in fire-suppression systems. Indeed, while the army for years had defined "ODC elimination as a readiness issue, and not an environmental issue[,] ... no central funding [from Clinton appointees in the Department of the Army was] available" (IWP 1997a, 5). Likewise, by the final year of the Clinton administration, the Naval Audit Service labeled the service's ODC elimination program a "material deficiency" area. Despite progress, auditors noted that Class I ODC conversion was persistently a victim of the navy shifting its operations and maintenance funds to more pressing needs (IWP 2000c). Buttressing these assessments, auditors concluded in mid-2000 "that program managers have not been following existing [ODC] policies" (IWP 2000b, 19).

Thus, by the end of the Clinton presidency, most installations were not producing ODC elimination plans in a timely fashion. Moreover, when Goodman's office launched an offensive to create a high-level task force within the DOD to bring a corporate focus to phasing them out, turf-conscious military services objected so strenuously that the proposal died aborning. Opponents (including Clinton appointees in legacy programs) felt that Goodman was trying to seize the services' control over the substance, scope, and pace of greening.

Greening and the Weaponizing of Management Reform

To be effective, an ENR compliance ethic also required a fundamental reform of a variety of management systems in the Pentagon. Accurate information on lifecycle costs of weaponry, for example, is central to pollution prevention. As the post-Cold War era dawned, the good news for greening proponents was that correcting these management system problems became increasingly attractive to Pentagon reformers. The bad news was that management system reform was led by Clinton appointees who focused on aligning them with warfighting missions rather than with the greening goals touted by other Clinton appointees. Again, one finds a lack of strategic thinking, unclear guidance about what greening meant, the weaponizing of reform by opponents on anything but the military's terms, the marshalling of national and subnational opposition, and the defunding and deinstitutionalizing of ENR functions in the military.

Perhaps most crippling was a major reorganization launched by Goodman's superior and fellow Clinton appointee, John Deutch, in the early 1990s. The predicate for his action was mounting pressure within Congress during Clinton's first two years as president to expedite the transfer of Base Realignment and Closure Commission properties to local communities for economic development. This became crucial in recession-afflicted, electoral-vote-rich states such as California that Clinton needed for reelection. In response, and partially to stymie a gutting of ENR statutes by Republicans, the White House administratively made greening a lower priority by creating a fast-track program to expedite base transfers. This involved creating new decision rules related to cleanup: Rather than cleaning up all bases to meet the most stringent health and safety standards, they would move toward cleaning them up to less stringent levels depending on future use. Critics, such as Texas attorney general Dan Morales, argued that future land use as a criterion was a thinly veiled "attempt to subsidize economic redevelopment of bases by allowing the cleanup standards to be loosened ... [and are] short-term solutions [that are] more budget-based than health and safety-based" (IWP 1995, 11-12).

To symbolize the administration's concern with expediting base transfers, Deutch also created an Office of Economic Security within the OSD, a move that stripped Goodman's office of some installations-based activities critical for advancing greening. Rationalized on best business practice grounds as "integrating the base closure and cleanup process with reuse and investment activities," many of the functions transferred to the Office of Economic Security were functions previously listed as priorities for Goodman's office (IWP 1994b, 10). Included among these were installation management, construction management, and investment activities. In effect, Deutch's reorganization transferred key ENR responsibilities to a new unit far more concerned with expediting base transfers and economic development than with ENR protection.

Further reducing the leverage of Goodman's office, Deutch administratively devolved responsibility for the Pentagon's Defense-State Memorandum of Agreement program from the OSD to the services. Again justified in NPR terms, this transfer meant that the individual military services would control supplemental funding that states depended on for overseeing cleanups. The services also got a concession from the states in exchange for them partially funding state oversight: a "vastly 'more amicable' oversight protocol [i.e., less stringent state testing and soil sampling] than the alternative--enforcement of state hazardous waste laws against" a facility. As one Louisiana ENR official put it, everyone knew that the "[s]tates [dependent on Defense-State Memorandum of Agreement funds] tend to be more reasonable" than EPA (IWP 1998c, 14).

Deutch's initiatives had additional ripple effects detrimental to greening. First, realizing there were "activities that involve both Economic and Environmental Security which require a high degree of cooperation, coordination, and partnership," Deutch called for "partnership plans" worked out between Goodman's office and the new Office of Economic Security (IWP 1994b, 11). Given power disparities between the two offices, however, a series of agreements left ambiguous organizational structures with high transaction costs.

Deutch's NPR-justified initiatives also prompted a reorganization of Goodman's office, one that immediately drew the ire of environmentalists. Created was a new office led by an assistant deputy undersecretary of defense for environmental quality and responsible for integrating cleanup, compliance, and pollution prevention. In the process, functions that the Clinton administration had elevated earlier with fanfare to the deputy undersecretary level were now demoted to the assistant deputy level as the president's priorities shifted toward accelerating base transfers. Environmental professionals in the military who appreciated Goodman's initiatives argued unsuccessfully against the move as it downgraded the pollution prevention emphasis she had earlier touted as the centerpiece of her [C.sup.3][P.sup.2] plus technology agenda.

These misbegotten efforts for greening notwithstanding, yet another major effort to address the Pentagon's management system shortcomings in ways affecting greening came in 1997 with Secretary Cohen's aforementioned DRI. And once more, reform initiatives were seized on as weapons by appointees and bureaucrats in the Pentagon in ways further diminishing the potency of arguments for greening. Goodman's office immediately found itself squarely within the crosshairs of Cohen's initiatives, as his DRI included proposals to move environmental functions from Goodman's office to the army, navy, and air force and to privatize various environmental functions carried out or overseen by civilian ENR workers in the services. Included among these were positions related to environmental restoration, conservation management, environmental research and development and technology, and developing more environmentally benign alternatives to weapons demilitarization (IWP 1998a).

Likewise, the military weaponized the DRI's focus on downsizing and transferring "noncore functions" to the services by justifying the devolution of the chemical demilitarization destruction program from the OSD to the army. Environmentalists bridled that "the fox had been put in charge of the chicken coop"; the army had long fought against ending open-air burning with its release of potentially toxic materials (e.g., dioxin). Incensed, environmentalists argued that greening opponents were using the DRI's focus on "rationalizing administration" to enhance the autonomy of a service (the army) that consistently ignored local citizens' opposition to burning demilitarized chemical weapons (IWP 1997c).

Relative Risk Ranking of Cleanups

A third illustration of the folly of important implicit assumptions underlying the administrative presidency involves the Clinton administration's efforts to have the military set priorities for base cleanups that were risk based (i.e., cleaning the most contaminated and dangerous sites first), did not compromise environmental quality, and broadened early citizen participation in cleanup decisions. At the heart of the problem was another instance of strategic incoherence, unclear guidance, lack of coordination, shifting presidential goals and priorities, and the patchworked administrative structures, procedures, and funding shortfalls produced by the pursuit of three competing White House goals pursued administratively: speeding up cleanups while simultaneously setting up analytically objective priorities and increasing citizen participation. What ensued was an eight-year-long battle among Clinton appointees representing disparate organizational and program interests, a battle that still defied resolution when George W. Bush took the oath of office. Their efforts, in turn, persistently provoked local and state demands for greater input into cleanup decisions, yet another goal of the administration.

The Pentagon had worked since 1986 to prioritize cleanups on a "worst first" basis. The military, however, wanted its own risk-ranking models to drive cleanup priorities, leaving the Pentagon rather than regulators to control the process. So confident was the military when it finished its first Defense Priority Model in the late 1980s that the Pentagon expected a panel of the National Academy of Sciences to accept its model without changes (Shulman 1992, 43). To the Pentagon's chagrin, the panelists disparaged the complex, quantitatively driven, and 75-variable-informed model as "a process of getting numbers to derive more numbers to go to a table to get a further number, all in an effort to rationalize a comparison of apples and oranges" (Shulman 1992, 49).

Thus, by the time the Clinton administration took office, debate still raged over whether priority setting was wise and, if so, what the appropriate method was for ranking sites. For starters, Clinton's appointee as EPA administrator, Carol Browner, joined EPA careerists in welcoming the conflict over risk ranking, seeing it as an opportunity to diminish long-standing Pentagon control over cleanup priorities. Her hope was that calls for priority setting from Congress and the president would produce a risk-ranking system based on the EPA's National Priorities List ranking system rather than the DOD's system. Meanwhile, many governors, mayors, and environmentalists wanted a "litigation first" (also known as "enforcement first" or "loudest first") approach to priority setting. They preferred to take their chances with lawsuits rather than risk having their sites ranked low by anyone's--the EPA's or the DOD's--technocratic model.

With the pressure on it to simultaneously expedite cleanups in response to local demands while setting priorities that might override these demands, the Clinton administration convened a national dialogue group. It comprised representatives from 37 stakeholder groups, the EPA, state regulators, and the Pentagon, but not the services. Known formally as the Federal Facilities Environmental Restoration Dialogue Committee, the group's 1993 recommendations involved a three-tiered, priority-setting scheme that was enforcement led rather than relative risk prioritized and stated that all facilities had to share equally in any funding cuts Congress made, regardless of the severity of risk at a site.

Adopting and implementing this recommendation administratively soon ran into hard feelings, controversy, rising federal budget deficits, and funding cuts for ENR activities at the DOD by the 104th through 106th Congresses that the administration could not compensate for by reallocating funding. These problems were compounded by the White House. President Clinton also had convened a Federal Facilities Policy Group led by the deputy OMB director, Alice Rivlin, that called for a national priority-setting scheme based on worst first decision rules endorsed by the Speaker of the House, Newt Gingrich (R-GA). Critics--including state regulators and environmental groups--lambasted the recommendations, claiming they were "not [about] improving cleanups ... [they were] ... about saving money.... [They didn't] address how public health would be affected" (IWP 1994c, 25). Against this leitmotif, legacy program political appointees at the Pentagon once again set about devising a new risk-ranking model, only this time with Goodman buoyed in internal battles by outside support marshaled by state regulators and environmental groups. Announced in 1994 after consultation with the EPA, the Relative Risk Site Evaluation Framework (RRSEF) sorted contaminated sites into one of three categories based on relative risk to public health, safety, and the environment: high, medium, or low.

A close reading of the DOD's Relative Risk Site Evaluation Primer indicates how far the Pentagon went to accommodate critics' ENR concerns. Consonant with the Federal Facilities Environmental Restoration Dialogue Committee's prescriptions, for instance, the RRSEF did not produce a single absolute numerical risk value for any site, and it afforded a dialogue with stakeholders concerning site conditions. But core mission-driven agencies and appointees within the Pentagon also outmuscled the EPA and Goodman's office by using the tools of the administrative presidency to design implementation structures, processes, and procedures that maintained the military's control over ranking decisions. The DOD, for example, was responsible for training EPA and state regulators on the intricacies of applying the framework at military sites. The OSD issued vague guidance documents authorizing each service to implement the RRSEF framework on its own terms. Each service then re-delegated lead responsibility for conducting risk-ranking assessments to largely unsympathetic base commanders, with equally vague guidance documents. Moreover, combined with tight time constraints for having the framework inform fiscal year 1996 funding requests, scant opportunity was afforded state regulatory agencies and the public to become involved.

In signing off on the RRSEF, a politically outgunned Browner nonetheless noted that the EPA would not rely exclusively on the DOD's risk-based comparisons when developing the agency's own cleanup priorities. In ensuing years, however, critics argued that a big gap existed between how other Clinton appointees at the Pentagon sold the relative risk model and its actual implementation. Stakeholders were not playing the significant role in the RRSEF process that the military had promised, and significant variations existed in implementation across EPA regions because of funding deficiencies. Moreover, the services were ranking sites without the EPA reviewing the original data informing decisions because of funding and personnel shortfalls. Equally distressing, interim (i.e., temporary) cleanup remedies such as "containment," rather than the permanent remedies required by the 1986 Superfund Amendments and Reauthorization Act, were selected significantly more often for military cleanups than for private Superfund sites.

Even under the best of circumstances, any hope of implementing the RRSEF with fidelity to green values also had to redress existing strategy-structure misalignments that the Clinton administration never pursued. Each of the services had instituted environmental training programs for base commanders and their personnel. But often the services provided only informal training on an "as-needed" basis (Turkeltaub and Rowe 1996, 54). Moreover, the GAO found significant shortages of DOD environmental personnel, high rates of turnover, and minimal expertise to carry out effective RRSEFs (GAO 1994). Guidance from the EPA to the military also was commonly absent or inconsistent, requests for risk-ranking data varied over time and across EPA regions, and data gaps requiring funding investments that were never adequately made persisted (GAO 1996). In fact, the GAO reported in 1997 that incomplete data existed at 1,040 of the 2,070 facilities listed on the EPA's Federal Facilities Docket (GAO 1996, 10). Still lacking, as well, until late in the Clinton administration, was EPA guidance to its regional officials about which federal facilities to evaluate first among those backlogged. Nor were many states better prepared for oversight, an area in which the Clinton administration might have pushed harder for grant funding.

Plagued by inadequate expertise, funding, and state oversight, the results were not surprising. The military services claimed in 1997 that relative risk evaluations using the RRSEF were completed for approximately 75% of their sites. But when state regulators tried to validate the corps's interim range rule risk methodology in 1999, replication problems arose. When Colorado regulators plugged actual data from some of their state's most seriously contaminated sites into the model, they were unable to get a ranking of "very high risk" (IWP 1999). Moreover, the RRSEF did not rank sites within categories. This, of course, left priority setting more to military base commanders than to either the Pentagon's civilian leadership in the OSD or to the EPA, state regulators, and citizens groups.

Conclusions

This analysis has examined efforts to employ a variety of tools of the administrative presidency to green the U.S. military over the past half century. The purpose has been to provide a policy window through which the implicit assumptions of scholars touting the efficacy of this strategy for advancing presidential policy agendas can be assessed. After reviewing the disappointing fate of these largely executive order-based initiatives during the Cold War era, three examples of efforts by the Clinton administration in the post-Cold War era were assessed and found to produce significant but halting, halfway, and patchworked progress in greening the U.S. military. This investigation illustrates why future research needs to return to a longitudinal focus on implementation processes in order to assess more fully the efficacy of, responsiveness to, and presidential aggrandizement rendered by the administrative presidency as a strategy for advancing White House policy goals. The Clinton effort to green the military reveals how and why assumptions implicit in the administrative presidency can be of questionable validity and cause us to ask the wrong questions in assessing the efficacy of the administrative presidency strategy. It is more profitable to complement economically grounded and statistically based cross-sectional studies of individual tools of the administrative presidency that focus on inputs and their relationships to outcomes with studies that assess how well or badly integrated are the administrative strategies used to pursue presidential goals as they are implemented over time Moreover, we need to discover what the consequences of these strategies are and why they have been undertaken. Conflicting goals may be built into the policy process through legal procedures. They may even derive from various goods sought by the same actor (the president or the president's agents).

This is not to suggest that, first, Cold War presidents and, later, the Clinton administration were uniquely ham-handed in their application of the tools of the administrative presidency--although errors of commission and omission were apparent. It is to argue, however, that all presidents pursue multiple goals administratively that have implications, often unanticipatable, for other policy goals. Moreover, (1) presidential goals and priorities pursued administratively tend to shift over time, negating rational choice approaches that assume fixed and transitive presidential policy preferences; (2) presidential appointees tend to become just as stove-piped, jurisdictional, and imperialistic in their thinking and actions as the departments, agencies, and programs they lead; and (3) the timing of resource adequacy is likely to be problematic, given the inability of presidents to do more than shift resources from other program areas and the inevitable lags in agency budgeting and personnel cycles. At the same time, program officials filtering their perceptions of administrative strategies through the lenses of their program's interests marginalize, ignore, or weaponize them for their own ends, not just for presidential policy aims. Also, national and subnational actors will quickly be informed of and react to any administrative initiative significantly affecting their interests. Moreover, because implementation of any administrative reform agenda requires compromises that leave results halting, halfway, and patchworked, simplistic "success-failure" evaluative criteria at any one point in time can distort our appreciation for the efficacy of the administrative presidency.

These realities, in turn, render premature and unwise any conclusion that the mere use of, for example, unilateral tools such as presidential signing statements or executive orders means success or threatens to enhance presidential power unduly. The proof lies in the implementation of these tools over time, in combination with shifting presidential priorities, and assessment of their cumulative effects longitudinally. Not unlike the enactment of statutes, adopting administrative strategies is merely a "starting gun" for a prolonged battle, the dynamics of which and ultimate victor can only be discerned by longitudinal studies of how various tools, goals, and priorities of the administrative presidency interact over time. In sum, criteria for assessments of the efficacy of, bureaucratic responsiveness to, and presidential advantage rendered by administrative strategies need to be grounded in these realities.

In the process, the really important questions for the next generation of research on the administrative presidency are identifying how well, why, and under what conditions presidents are able to adapt strategic and tactical integration of the tools of the administrative presidency to advance their multiple and shifting policy preferences and priorities over time (for a more robust topical research agenda, see Durant and Resh, forthcoming). And a focus on causal mechanisms identified by historical institutionalists such as path dependency, critical junctures, timing and sequencing of tools, and layering of initiatives rather than the mere correlation of independent and dependent variables would seem the most profitable way to proceed in answering these questions (Pierson 2004). In so doing, many independent variables identified in prior research (e.g., extent of behavioral change, the skill mix in agencies, leadership styles) should themselves become dependent variables for explanation. Relatedly, possible explanatory factors for those new dependent variables may lie in the way that past policies and administrative initiatives themselves have helped stack the deck for or against advancing subsequent presidential agendas administratively.

Pursuing these kinds of research designs will be an uphill battle. As historical institutionalists such as Pierson (2004) argue more generally, failure of most recent research to focus on implementation process questions has multiple, formidable, and interrelated sources. These include the dominance of economic perspectives in political science, the failure to "take time seriously" in research designs, the quest for theoretical parsimony, and the move toward sophisticated statistical analyses that focus almost exclusively on the cross-sectional relationship between inputs, outputs, and outcomes. Deductive research marginalizes the study of process, and while sophisticated statistical modeling does not preclude longitudinal designs, data unavailability or inconsistency of measures often results in insufficient data points for doing so. In addition, research that focuses longitudinally on implementation processes is time- and resource-consuming.

Yet without this focus in future research, a complete understanding of the efficacy of, bureaucratic responsiveness to, and implications for presidential power of the administrative presidency will remain beyond our grasp. To paraphrase Young, future scholarship needs to return to a focus on how the "dust" of the administrative presidency "settles," fully understanding that it "never does really settle--it keeps moving about, buffeted by random currents of air" (1998, 4). Consequently, going "back to the future" in terms of implementation process-centered research designs capable of assessing these dynamics is important, overdue, and central to advancing our understanding of the promise versus the performance of the administrative presidency.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: A previous version oft his paper was presented at the 2007 annual meeting of the Midwest Political Science Association, Chicago.

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ROBERT DURANT

American University

Robert F. Durant is professor of public administration and policy in the School of Public Affairs at American University. His previous books include The Administrative Presidency Revisited: Public Lands, The BLM, and the Reagan Revolution and Environmental Governance Reconsidered: Challenges, Choices, and Opportunities. His latest book is The Greening of the U.S. Military: Environmental Policy, National Security, and Organizational Change.