Cabinet Meeting Quotes

I have left orders to be awakened at any time during national emergency, even if I'm in a cabinet meeting.

Thorne was flying, so it was a constant stream of near-death experiences. How’s emperor life?” “Oh, you know. Press conferences. Cabinet meetings. Adoring fans everywhere I go.” “So also a constant stream of near-death experiences?” “Pretty much.

How was the flight?" Kai whispered, standing so close she imagined she could feel the vibrations of his heart in the air between them. "Oh, you know," Cinder murmured back. "Thorne was flying, so it was a constant stream of near-death experiences. How's emperor life?" "Oh, you know. Press conferences. Cabinet meetings. Adoring fans everywhere I go." "So also a constant stream of near-death experiences?" "Pretty much.

Big Cabinet meeting on our program through Justice dept. to wipe out legal discriminations against women. We've changed 27 laws, have 60 more in process & today approved some more.

Even President Reagan couldn’t understand him. During an early briefing Casey delivered to the national security cabinet, Reagan slipped Vice President Bush a note: “Did you understand a word he said?” Reagan later told William F. Buckley, “My problem with Bill was that I didn’t understand him at meetings. Now, you can ask a person to repeat himself once. You can ask him twice. But you can’t ask him a third time. You start to sound rude. So I’d just nod my head, but I didn’t know what he was actually saying.” Such was the dialogue for six years between the president and his intelligence chief in a nuclear-armed nation running secret wars on four continents.

Among those dazzled by the Administration team was Vice-President Lyndon Johnson. After attending his first Cabinet meeting he went back to his mentor Sam Rayburn and told him with great enthusiasm how extraordinary they were, each brighter than the next, and that the smartest of them all was that fellow with the Stacomb on his hair from the Ford Motor Company, McNamara. “Well, Lyndon,” Mister Sam answered, “you may be right and they may be every bit as intelligent as you say, but I’d feel a whole lot better about them if just one of them had run for sheriff once.” It is my favorite story in the book, for it underlines the weakness of the Kennedy team, the difference between intelligence and wisdom, between the abstract quickness and verbal fluency which the team exuded, and the true wisdom, which is the product of hard-won, often bitter experience. Wisdom for a few of them came after Vietnam.

Eisenhower, in contrast, turned spirituality into spectacle. At a transition meeting with his cabinet nominees, he announced that they and their families were invited to a special religious service at National Presbyterian Church the morning of the inauguration.

Trump convened his first full cabinet meeting, a now infamous session in which U.S. government officials took turns pledging fealty to their master.

In 2015 one of the most powerful jobs in the bureaucracy, that of cabinet secretary, went to a public relations executive, Matthew Stafford, who thus had access to cabinet meetings.

When I had lived in this world for twenty years, I understood that it was a world worth living in. At twenty-five I realized that light and dark are sides of the same coin; that wherever the sun shines, shadows too must fall. Now, at thirty, here is what I think: where joy grows deep, sorrow must deepen; the greater one's pleasures, the greater the pain. If you try to sever the two, life falls apart. Try to control them, and you will meet with failure. Money is essential, but with the increase of what is essential to you, anxieties will invade you even in sleep. Love is a happy thing, but as this happy love swells and grows heavy, you will yearn instead for the happy days before love came into your life. Splendid though he is, a cabinet minister must bear a million people on his shoulders; the weight of the whole nation rests heavy upon his back. If something is delicious, it goes hard not to eat it, yet if you eat a little you only desire more, and if you gorge yourself on it, it leaves you unpleasantly bloated.

Trump’s pick for secretary of state? Rex Tillerson, a figure known and trusted in Moscow, and recipient of the Order of Friendship. National security adviser? Michael Flynn, Putin’s dinner companion and a beneficiary of undeclared Russian fees. Campaign manager? Paul Manafort, longtime confidant to ex-Soviet oligarchs. Foreign policy adviser? Carter Page, an alleged Moscow asset who gave documents to Putin’s spies. Commerce secretary? Wilbur Ross, an entrepreneur with Russia-connected investments. Personal lawyer? Michael Cohen, who sent emails to Putin’s press secretary. Business partner? Felix Sater, son of a Russian American mafia boss. And other personalities, too. It was almost as if Putin had played a role in naming Trump’s cabinet. The U.S. president, of course, had done the choosing. But the constellation of individuals, and their immaculate alignment with Russian interests, formed a discernible pattern, like stars against a clear night sky. A pattern of collusion.

I can remember meeting of a Sunday night Charles Whibley, Kenneth Grahame, author of 'The Golden Age,' Barry Pain, now a well known novelist, R. A. M. Stevenson, art critic and a famous talker, George Wyndham, later on a cabinet minister and Irish chief secretary, and Oscar Wilde, who was some eight years or ten older than the rest.

careful reconstruction of the British war-cabinet meetings between Friday, 24 May and Tuesday, 28 May, five days that could have changed the world. Lukac’s conclusion is inescapable: never was Hitler as close to total control over Western Europe as he was during that last week of May 1940. Britain almost presented him with a peace agreement which he would probably have accepted, and only one man was finally able to stand in the way: Churchill. Besides Churchill, the British war cabinet in those days had four other members, at least two of whom could be counted among the ‘appeasers’: Neville Chamberlain and Lord Halifax. The other two, Clement Atlee and Arthur Greenwood (representing Labour), had no experience in government at that time. On

Jefferson grasped the import of the moment, issuing a proclamation banning armed British ships from U.S. waters.9 At a cabinet meeting he decided to call on the governors of the states to have their quotas of one hundred thousand militiamen ready, and he ordered the purchase of arms, ammunition, and supplies.10,11 The president gave the order unilaterally, without congressional approval. He

His unpunctuality was to be a lifelong trait; even as prime minister he would arrive late or with only minutes to spare for meetings with Cabinets and monarchs and for debates in Parliament. As his exasperated wife was to say, ‘Winston always likes to give the train a sporting chance to get away.

His unpunctuality was to be a lifelong trait; even as prime minister he would arrive late or with only minutes to spare for meetings with Cabinets and monarchs and for debates in Parliament. As his exasperated wife was to say, ‘Winston always likes to give the train a sporting chance to get away.’47

Abraham Lincoln, who was about to meet some visiting clergy to accept a petition, was shining his shoes when a cabinet minister came into his office for a quick answer to a question. The cabinet secretary asked in surprise, “Mr. President, are you shining your own shoes?” “Whose shoes would I shine?” replied Lincoln dryly.

I can remember meeting of a Sunday night Charles Whibley, Kenneth Grahame, author of The Golden Age, Barry Pain, now a well-known novelist, R. A. M. Stevenson, art critic and a famous talker, George Wyndham, later on a cabinet minister and Irish chief secretary, and now or later Oscar Wilde, who was some ten years older than the rest of us.

The population of his feelings Could not be governed By the authorities He had reasons why Reason disobeyed him And voted him out of office Anxiety His constant companion Made it difficult to rest Unruly party of one Forget about truces or compromises The barricades will be stormed Every day was an emergency Every day called for another emergency Meeting of the cabinet In his country There were scenes Of spectacular carnage Hurricanes welcomed him He adored typhoons and tornadoes Furies unleashed Houses lifted up And carried to the sea Uncontained uncontainable Unbolt the doors Fling open the gates Here he comes Chaotic wind of the gods He was trouble But he was our trouble

Meanwhile, British Agent Number Seven was fulfilling more than his job as Great Britain’s man on the spot. He warned Beck-with that the pro-French Jefferson could make trouble “from some opinions he has given respecting your government,” but, luckily, “Washington was perfectly dispassionate.” Then Hamilton appears to divide his loyalties: “I shall certainly know the progress of negotiations from day to day. . . . In case any such difficulties should occur, I should wish to know them in order that I may be sure they are clearly understood and candidly examined.” A double agent appears to have been born. By December 1791 Jefferson realized that Hamilton was leaking the content of cabinet meetings to the British. By 1792 the rivals were so at odds that Washington came down from his Olympus and asked each what this great division in his cabinet—now being reflected in the nation—was all about.

The squadron of men-of-war and transports was collected, the commodore’s flag hoisted, and the expedition sailed with most secret orders, which, as usual, were as well known to the enemy, and everybody in England, as they were to those by whom they were given. It is the characteristic of our nation, that we scorn to take any unfair advantage, or reap any benefit, by keeping our intentions a secret. We imitate the conduct of that English tar, who, having entered a fort, and meeting a Spanish officer without his sword, being providentially supplied with two cut-lasses himself, immediately offered him one, that they might engage on fair terms. The idea is generous, but not wise. But I rather imagine that this want of secrecy arises from all matters of importance being arranged by cabinet councils. In the multitude of counsellors there may be wisdom, but there certainly is not secrecy. Twenty men have probably twenty wives, and it is therefore twenty to one but the secret transpires through that channel. Further, twenty men have twenty tongues; and much as we complain of women not keeping secrets, I suspect that men deserve the odium of the charge quite as much, if not more, than women do. On the whole, it is forty to one against secrecy, which, it must be acknowledged, are long odds. On the arrival of the squadron at the point of attack, a few more days were thrown away,—probably upon the same generous principle of allowing the enemy sufficient time for preparation.

In England the cabinet became the most exclusive and private of all chambers—the innermost sanctum where the most private meetings could take place. Then it made one of those bizarre leaps that words sometimes make and came to describe (by 1605) not just where the king met with his ministers, but the collective term for the ministers themselves. This explains why this one word now describes both the most intimate and exalted group of advisers in government and the shelved recess in the bathroom where we keep Ex-Lax and the like.

Rosalynn toured seven nations for meetings with presidents and other top officials. After careful briefings from the State Department and the CIA, she carried personal messages from me urging President Ernesto Geisel of Brazil to abandon his plans to reprocess nuclear fuel for weapons and the leaders of Peru and Chile to reduce their purchases of armaments, and to inform the president of Colombia that one of his cabinet officers was accepting bribes from drug cartels. Rosalynn was, if anything, more frank and forceful in her presentations than Secretary of State Cyrus Vance or I would have been.

Wrote the veteran Congressman DP Mishra: “…Soon after, I heard Nehru’s voice on All India Radio at Nagpur, committing the Government of India to the holding of plebiscite in Kashmir. As from my talk with Patel, I had received the impression that the signature of the Maharaja had finally settled the Kashmir issue. I was surprised by Nehru’s announcement. When I visited Delhi next, I pointedly asked Patel whether the decision to hold a plebiscite in Kashmir was taken at a meeting of the Cabinet. He sighed and shook his head. It was evident that Nehru had acted on Mountbatten’s advice, and had ignored his colleagues.” It seems

I wonder where they’ll go,” Jake continued, frowning a little. “There’s wolves out there, and all sorts of beasts.” “No self-respecting wolf would dare to confront that duenna of hers, not with that umbrella she wields,” Ian snapped, but he felt a little uneasy. “Oho!” said Jake with a hearty laugh. “So that’s what she was? I thought they’d come to court you together. Personally, I’d be afraid to close my eyes with that gray-haired hag in bed next to me.” Ian was not listening. Idly he unfolded the note, knowing that Elizabeth Cameron probably wasn’t foolish enough to have written it in her own girlish, illegible scrawl. His first thought as he scanned the neat, scratchy script was that she’d gotten someone else to write it for her…but then he recognized the words, which were strangely familiar, because he’d spoken them himself: Your suggestion has merit. I’m leaving for Scotland on the first of next month and cannot delay the trip again. Would prefer the meeting take place there, in any case. A map is enclosed for direction to the cottage. Cordially-Ian. “God help that silly bastard if he ever crosses my path!” Ian said savagely. “Who d’you mean?” “Peters!” “Peters?” Jake said, gaping. “Your secretary? The one you sacked for mixin’ up all your letters?” “I should have strangled him! This is the note I meant for Dickinson Verley. He sent it to Cameron instead.” In furious disgust Ian raked his hand through his hair. As much as he wanted Elizabeth Cameron out of his sight and out of his life, he could not cause two women to spend the night in their carriage or whatever vehicle they’d brought, when it was his fault they’d come here. He nodded curtly to Jake. “Go and get them.” “Me? Why me?” “Because,” Ian said bitterly, walking over to the cabinet and putting away the gun, “it’s starting to rain, for one thing. For another, if you don’t bring them back, you’ll be doing the cooking.” “If I have to go after that woman, I want a stout glass of something fortifying first. They’re carrying a trunk, so they won’t get much ahead of me.” “On foot?” Ian asked in surprise. “How did you think they got up here?” “I was too angry to think.

He hammered along, arms swinging by his sides. He was known, well known, along the highways in hiding that are traveled by the poor and the mad, by the professional revolutionaries and by those who have been taught to hate so well that their hate shows on their faces like harelips and they are unwanted except by others like them, who welcome them to cheap rooms with slogans and posters on the walls, to basements where lengths of sawed-off pipe are held in padded vises while they are stuffed with high explosives, to back rooms where lunatic plans are laid: to kill a Cabinet member, to kidnap the child of a visiting dignitary, or to break into a boardroom meeting of Standard Oil with grenades and machine guns and murder in the name of the people. He was known there, and even the maddest of them could only

A home is the only space that aspires to be a constant. But a home is also a space that always represents everything we can be, and because of this, the perfect home is an insatiable thirst. Buoyed by a façade of stability, you start accumulating things. The strategically placed bookshelf in your study behind you during online meetings as a nod to your intellect. The scented candles and artwork on the wall that guests compliment you on at dinner parties. A portrait of a smiling family casually sitting on top of the piano, to flaunt domestic bliss. The instruments and amps scattered across a carpeted floor, a cabinet full of jazz records. You want to leave your past behind, a decade of putting roses in a beer can in lieu of a vase. You want an ever-expanding place that deserves these things. But what if you live in a city where there was never any space for this to begin with, where permanence can never be promised?

investigations and reported the completion of significant investigations without charges. Anytime a special prosecutor is named to look into the activities of a presidential administration it is big news, and, predictably, my decision was not popular at the Bush White House. A week after the announcement, I substituted for the attorney general at a cabinet meeting with the president. By tradition, the secretaries of state and defense sit flanking the president at the Cabinet Room table in the West Wing of the White House. The secretary of the treasury and the attorney general sit across the table, flanking the vice president. That meant that, as the substitute for the attorney general, I was at Vice President Dick Cheney’s left shoulder. Me, the man who had just appointed a special prosecutor to investigate his friend and most senior and trusted adviser, Scooter Libby. As we waited for the president, I figured I should be polite. I turned to Cheney and said, “Mr. Vice President, I’m Jim Comey from Justice.” Without turning to face me, he said, “I know. I’ve seen you on TV.” Cheney then locked his gaze ahead, as if I weren’t there. We waited in silence for the president. My view of the Brooklyn Bridge felt very far away. I had assured Fitzgerald at the outset that this was likely a five- or six-month assignment. There was some work to do, but it would be a piece of cake. He reminded me of that many times over the next four years, as he was savagely attacked by the Republicans and right-leaning media as some kind of maniacal Captain Ahab, pursuing a case that was a loser from the beginning. Fitzgerald had done exactly as I expected once he took over. He investigated to understand just who in government had spoken with the press about the CIA employee and what they were thinking when they did so. After careful examination, he ended in a place that didn’t surprise me on Armitage and Rove. But the Libby part—admittedly, a major loose end when I gave him the case—

Everyone jumps to their stations and I meet Richard and Amanda at ours. We're in charge of assembling spoonfuls of sweet-potato casserole but with a Spanish twist. That was my idea, a Southern holiday meal meets a twist of southern Spain. Most of the hors d'oeuvres were prepared beforehand so we just need to get them in the oven and put on the finishing garnishes. I begin scooping sweet-potato casserole onto ceramic serving spoons while Richard garnishes them with sugared walnuts and Spanish sausage. Three months ago, most of us had never even tried Spanish cuisine, and today we're hosting a semi-Spanish-themed banquet. We work like machines. I spoon and pass the bite to my left. Richard adds walnuts and sausage, and passes the plate. Amanda adds parsley and cleans the plate. Chili aioli would make this bomb. A sweet and savory bite. I almost walk to the spice cabinet, then stop myself. That's not the recipe. We make trays and trays of food; some are set forward for the students who will begin serving. These are the skewers of winter veggies and single-serve portions of herbed stuffing with jamón ibérico- the less hearty bites. While the first course is being distributed the rest of us begin wiping down our stations. Our mini bites of sweet potato and mac and cheese will be going out next.

arrived in Cambridge, and made an appointment to meet the formidable Krister Stendahl, a Swedish scholar of fierce intelligence, now to be my first adviser. We met in his office. I was nervous, but also amused that this tall and severe man, wearing a black shirt and clerical collar, looked to me like an Ingmar Bergman version of God. After preliminary formalities, he abruptly swiveled in his chair and turned sternly to ask, “So really, why did you come here?” I stumbled over the question, then mumbled something about wanting to find the essence of Christianity. Stendahl stared down at me, silent, then asked, “How do you know it has an essence?” In that instant, I thought, That’s exactly why I came here: to be asked a question like that—challenged to rethink everything. Now I knew I had come to the right place. I’d chosen Harvard because it was a secular university, where I wouldn’t be bombarded with church dogma. Yet I still imagined that if we went back to first-century sources, we might hear what Jesus was saying to his followers when they walked by the Sea of Galilee—we might find the “real Christianity,” when the movement was in its golden age. But Harvard quenched these notions; there would be no simple path to what Krister Stendahl ironically called “play Bible land” simply by digging through history. Yet I also saw that this hope of finding “the real Christianity” had driven countless people—including our Harvard professors—to seek its origins. Naive as our questions were, they were driven by a spiritual quest. We discovered that even the earliest surviving texts had been written decades after Jesus’s death, and that none of them are neutral. They reveal explosive controversy between his followers, who loved him, and outsiders like the Roman senator Tacitus and the Roman court historian Suetonius, who likely despised him. Taken together, what the range of sources does show, contrary to those who imagine that Jesus didn’t exist, is that he did: fictional people don’t have real enemies. What came next was a huge surprise: our professors at Harvard had file cabinets filled with facsimiles of secret gospels I had never heard of—the Gospel of Thomas, the Gospel of Philip, the Gospel of Mary Magdalene, the Gospel of Truth—and dozens of other writings, transcribed by hand from the original Greek into Coptic, and mimeographed in blue letters on pages stamped TOP SECRET. Discovered in 1945, these texts only recently had become available to scholars. This wasn’t what I’d expected to find in graduate school, or even what I wanted—at least, not so long as I still hoped to find answers instead of more questions

McMaster said he had been completely in the dark about this. The secretary of state had not consulted or even informed him in advance. He had learned from press reports! In a news conference in Qatar, Tillerson had said the agreement “represents weeks of intensive discussions” between the two governments so it had been in the works for a while. Porter said Tillerson had not gone through the policy process at the White House and had not involved the president either. Clearly Tillerson was going off on his own. “It is more loyal to the president,” McMaster said, “to try to persuade rather the circumvent.” He said he carried out direct orders when the president was clear, and felt duty bound to do so as an Army officer. Tillerson in particular did not. “He’s such a prick,” McMaster said. “He thinks he’s smarter than anyone. So he thinks he can do his own thing.” In his long quest to bring order to the chaos, Priebus arranged for each of the key cabinet members to regularly check in. Tillerson came to his office at 5:15 p.m. on Tuesday, July 18. McMaster had not been invited but joined the meeting anyway. He took a seat at the conference table. The national security adviser’s silent presence was ominous and electric. Tell me, Priebus asked Tillerson, how are things going? Are you on track to achieve your primary objectives? How is the relationship between the State Department and the White House? Between you and the president? “You guys in the White House don’t have your act together,” Tillerson said, and the floodgates gushed open. “The president can’t make a decision. He doesn’t know how to make a decision. He won’t make a decision. He makes a decision and then changes his mind a couple of days later.” McMaster broke his silence and raged at the secretary of state. “You don’t work with the White House,” McMaster said. “You never consult me or anybody on the NSC staff. You blow us off constantly.” He cited examples when he tried to set up calls or meetings or breakfasts with Tillerson. “You are off doing your own thing” and communicate directly with the president, Mattis, Priebus or Porter. “But it’s never with the National Security Council,” and “that’s what we’re here to do.” Then he issued his most dramatic charge. “You’re affirmatively seeking to undermine the national security process.” “That’s not true,” Tillerson replied. “I’m available anytime. I talk to you all the time. We just had a conference call yesterday. We do these morning calls three times a week. What are you talking about, H.R.? I’ve worked with you. I’ll work with anybody.” Tillerson continued, “I’ve also got to be secretary of state. Sometimes I’m traveling. Sometimes I’m in a different time zone. I can’t always take your calls.” McMaster said he consulted with the relevant assistant secretaries of state if the positions were filled. “I don’t have assistant secretaries,” Tillerson said, coldly, “because I haven’t picked them, or the ones that I have, I don’t like and I don’t trust and I don’t work with. So you can check with whoever you want. That has no bearing on me.” The rest of the State Department didn’t matter; if you didn’t go through him, it didn’t count.

I do not know the substance of the considerations and recommendations which Dr. Szilárd proposes to submit to you,” Einstein wrote. “The terms of secrecy under which Dr. Szilárd is working at present do not permit him to give me information about his work; however, I understand that he now is greatly concerned about the lack of adequate contact between scientists who are doing this work and those members of your Cabinet who are responsible for formulating policy.”34 Roosevelt never read the letter. It was found in his office after he died on April 12 and was passed on to Harry Truman, who in turn gave it to his designated secretary of state, James Byrnes. The result was a meeting between Szilárd and Byrnes in South Carolina, but Byrnes was neither moved nor impressed. The atom bomb was dropped, with little high-level debate, on August 6, 1945, on the city of Hiroshima. Einstein was at the cottage he rented that summer on Saranac Lake in the Adirondacks, taking an afternoon nap. Helen Dukas informed him when he came down for tea. “Oh, my God,” is all he said.35 Three days later, the bomb was used again, this time on Nagasaki. The following day, officials in Washington released a long history, compiled by Princeton physics professor Henry DeWolf Smyth, of the secret endeavor to build the weapon. The Smyth report, much to Einstein’s lasting discomfort, assigned great historic weight for the launch of the project to the 1939 letter he had written to Roosevelt. Between the influence imputed to that letter and the underlying relationship between energy and mass that he had formulated forty years earlier, Einstein became associated in the popular imagination with the making of the atom bomb, even though his involvement was marginal. Time put him on its cover, with a portrait showing a mushroom cloud erupting behind him with E=mc2 emblazoned on it. In a story that was overseen by an editor named Whittaker Chambers, the magazine noted with its typical prose flair from the period: Through the incomparable blast and flame that will follow, there will be dimly discernible, to those who are interested in cause & effect in history, the features of a shy, almost saintly, childlike little man with the soft brown eyes, the drooping facial lines of a world-weary hound, and hair like an aurora borealis… Albert Einstein did not work directly on the atom bomb. But Einstein was the father of the bomb in two important ways: 1) it was his initiative which started U.S. bomb research; 2) it was his equation (E = mc2) which made the atomic bomb theoretically possible.36 It was a perception that plagued him. When Newsweek did a cover on him, with the headline “The Man Who Started It All,” Einstein offered a memorable lament. “Had I known that the Germans would not succeed in producing an atomic bomb,” he said, “I never would have lifted a finger.”37 Of course, neither he nor Szilárd nor any of their friends involved with the bomb-building effort, many of them refugees from Hitler’s horrors, could know that the brilliant scientists they had left behind in Berlin, such as Heisenberg, would fail to unlock the secrets. “Perhaps I can be forgiven,” Einstein said a few months before his death in a conversation with Linus Pauling, “because we all felt that there was a high probability that the Germans were working on this problem and they might succeed and use the atomic bomb and become the master race.”38

Jews, notably, were defined as a ‘people’, while others, not even identified, were referred to only as ‘communities’. It was an extraordinary phrase that echoes down the decades and explains why Balfour is remembered a century later by Arabs as the architect of perfidy and disaster.16 Zionists, for opposite reasons, revere his memory; Balfour Street in Jerusalem is still the site of the official residence of the Israeli prime minister. The reservation had been inserted in the text to meet the strong objections raised by Lord Curzon, the former British viceroy of India and, as lord president of the council, an influential member of the war cabinet. Curzon – reflecting contemporary perceptions about the map and identity of the region – had referred to the ‘Syrian Arabs’ who had ‘occupied [Palestine] for the best part of 1,500 years’, and asked what would become of them. ‘They will not be content either to be expropriated for Jewish immigrants or to act merely as hewers of wood and drawers of water to the latter’, he predicted with the help of another then familiar biblical reference.17 The declaration’s second reservation – about the rights of Jews in other countries – was a response to the opposition of Edwin Montagu, the secretary of state for India, even though he was not in the war cabinet. Montagu was a Jewish grandee who feared that an official expression of sympathy for Zionism in fact masked anti-Semitic prejudice and would undermine the hard-won position of British Jews and their co-religionists elsewhere in the world. However, it did not weaken his vehement opposition, any more than the words about ‘non-Jewish communities’ assuaged Arab fears. Over time, Jewish attitudes to Zionism would change significantly; Arab attitudes, by and large, did not.

Chaired by the king, the Council of Ministers meets weekly. It makes most routine decisions by majority vote, with the king and crown prince not always being in the majority. The king usually acts in his capacity as President of the Council of Ministers, and issues new policies as Council of Ministers Decrees. He can, and sometimes does, bypass the Council, issuing Royal Orders in his own name. The most common example of this is his appointment and dismissal of ministers, who have no more independent political authority than American cabinet secretaries.

dozen cabinet subcommittees that rarely met have been replaced by two that meet weekly, the Council for Economic and Development Affairs (CEDA) and the Council for Political and Security Affairs (CPSA). Now, all large projects must be approved by CEDA or CPSA, and will be approved only if they directly support Vision 2030.

By early 2014 there were sufficient indications that the High Court action would prove extraordinary by Irish legal standards. It had emerged that a telephone system that handled emergency calls, which had been installed in garda stations across Ireland in the 1980s, had a recording function. Such a recording function posed fundamental problems at a garda station–not least for some conversations between gardaí, which should have been treated as confidential. This system with a recording function was discontinued in November 2013. The garda commissioner at the time, Martin Callinan, had alerted the Department of Justice in March 2014 to the fact that the recording system had been in place. So seriously was the matter taken that it was immediately brought to the attention of Taoiseach Enda Kenny and discussed at a full Cabinet meeting on 25 March. By that time, the retirement of Commissioner Callinan had been confirmed in the wake of the controversy over the treatment of the so-called garda ‘whistle-blower’ Maurice McCabe. Bandon Garda Station, the centre of the du Plantier murder investigation, had such a telephone recording system and it had been in operation between 1997 and 2003–critical periods for the du Plantier investigation.

Two hours into the third session of our fourth cabinet meeting on the border dispute with the co-operative kingdom of Dahomey, my colleagues finally agree that we need to seek the dream-counsel of our electric mother.

Adams derived bitter satisfaction from the new administration’s peccadilloes. He sent letters to Charles and to Abby describing the White House fracas over Peggy Eaton, a tavernkeeper’s daughter whom Jackson’s secretary of war and close confidante, John Eaton, had married and whom the wives of other cabinet members and of Vice President Calhoun refused to meet. Secretary

I am on the cabinet's edge. I am beside myself, beyond myself. The words 'darling' and 'not creative' are burning me. Chef Sakamoto has betrayed us all, betrayed me! And giving a set of keys to an outsider? What would Mr Kalidass think of this? And what is she even doing here? Why can't they meet outside like normal couples do? If I could pick up the phone to ring Mr Kalidass, I would. If I could pick up a kitchen knife, I would.

In the afternoon there was a meeting of Cobra – and the prime minister was nowhere to be seen. ‘I turn up and Michael Gove is chairing it. Not Johnson. It was odd,’ one of those present recalls. ‘To miss such a critical Cobra meeting, I just don’t understand why. It’s inexplicable because this is the Cobra where we decided to bring in nationwide measures and he delegates to Michael Gove. It’s just odd. It’s literally a five-minute walk from Cabinet Office through the corridor to No. 10 to the press conference.

But, in reality, Raab would run the country by committee as part of a so-called quad of senior ministers that also included Hancock, Sunak and Gove. Each day they would hold daily meetings at 9.15 a.m., either on Zoom or in person. They had competing agendas and egos, and none had the true authority of a prime minister. At one point Sir Mark Sedwill, the cabinet secretary, is understood to have read them the riot act, insisting that they pull together for the good of the country.

The President promised me to reflect upon this proposition, and to confer with his Cabinet upon the propriety of adopting it. All Cabinet consultations are secret; which is equivalent to saying that I never knew what occurred in that meeting to which my proposition was submitted. The result was not communicated to me, but the events which followed proved that the suggestion was not accepted.

General Groves had communicated to the War Department on this day, saying the next bomb would be ready for delivery after August 17 or 18. But now, in the cabinet meeting, Truman said that he was ordering an end to the atomic bombing. He could not stomach the idea of wiping out another 100,000 people, of killing “all those kids,” he said to his cabinet.

Grateful she had locked it, she crept to the door and peered out the peephole, then smiled as she unlocked the deadbolt and opened the door. “Kyle. I didn’t expect to see you tonight.” “I couldn’t leave you all by yourself. And I’ll bet you haven’t had dinner. Am I right?” “Yes, but only because I fell asleep.” “My point exactly. You need someone to take care of you.” Jessica laughed and allowed him to enter. “I’m perfectly capable of taking care of myself.” “I know you are. But I think you deserve a little pampering, don’t you?” “I won’t argue with that.” Though she knew having him here would just make it harder to say good-bye later, she was willing to put it off for a little while longer. “What did you have in mind?” He held up a bag. “I brought Chinese.” He winked at her. “Your favorite.” Surprised by his apparent need to take care of her, if she didn’t know he was engaged to Melanie she’d think he was flirting with her. But he was engaged to Melanie, so she could only take his actions to mean that he was taking care of an old friend. He walked into the kitchen and set the bag on the table. “Where are the plates?” When she started walking toward the cabinets, he gently held on to her arms and steered her toward the table. “I can find them myself. You need to sit.” She smiled, loving the attention and soaking it up while it lasted. He found the plates as well as utensils and glasses, and set the table before sitting across from her. “I know you like the orange chicken and the fried rice, so I got plenty of both.” He scooped out a generous helping onto her plate, then filled his own. Jessica dug in, surprised by how hungry she was. “This is delicious. Thanks for bringing it over.” “My pleasure,” he said, grinning. He took a few more bites, then set his fork down. “I have to admit, it bothers me that your fiancé didn’t make the effort to be here with you after all you’ve been through.” Jessica froze, her fork midway to her mouth. She set it down and straightened the napkin in her lap before meeting Kyle’s eyes. “The truth is, I didn’t

At one point during a meeting in Truman’s office, Silver had hammered on Truman’s desk and shouted at him. “Terror and Silver are the causes of some, if not all, of our troubles,” Truman later said, and at one Cabinet meeting he reportedly grew so furious over the subject of the Jews that he snapped, “Jesus Christ couldn’t please them when he was on earth, so how could anyone expect that I would have any luck.” To

Poverty was one of those concerns. In the last days of November 1963, Robert Kennedy found a sheet of paper on which his brother had repeatedly scrawled and circled the word “poverty” during the final cabinet meeting of his life. Bobby framed the paper and hung it in his office at the Justice Department. Poverty was on both Kennedys’ minds that fall; earlier in 1963 they had begun to consider an antipoverty program—not a war but an “offensive” of uncertain magnitude. At the time of the assassination, Walter Heller, chairman of the President’s Council of Economic Advisers, was preparing a comprehensive picture of the poverty problem. By the time Heller placed the memo on President Johnson’s desk the morning of November 23, the fight against poverty had attained the solemnity of a dead man’s last wish.

Bush said, “Let’s start. Next time they’ll know not to be late.” Not long after that, Bush strode like clockwork into the Roosevelt Room to conduct a meeting with his newly confirmed cabinet. He noticed that one chair – that belonging to Secretary of State Colin Powell - was empty. “Lock the door,” he instructed. A few minutes later, the sound of a hand testing the doorknob could plainly be heard. The Cabinet Room erupted with laughter. Bush gave the signal, and the lock was turned for the secretary of state. Amid the levity, the president had made his point – although there were really two points, the one being: Colin Powell, whose popularity far exceeded George W. Bush’s, whom the incoming President needed far more than the other way around… was nonetheless not the big dog any longer. A contest of sorts had just taken place. And Bush had won.

I’ve got to get Brittany alone if I’m gonna have any chance of saving face and saving my Honda. Does her freakout session mean she really doesn’t hate me? I’ve never seen that girl do anything not scripted or 100 percent intentional. She’s a robot. Or so I thought. She’s always looked and acted like a princess on camera every time I’ve seen her. Who knew it’d be my bloody arm that would crack her. I look over at Brittany. She’s focused on my arm and Miss Koto’s ministrations. I wish we were back in the library. I could swear back there she was thinking about getting it on with me. I’m sporting la tengo dura right here in front of Miss Koto just thinking about it. Gracias a Dios the nurse walks over to the medicine cabinet. Where’s a large chem book when you need one? “Let’s hang Thursday after school. You know, to work on the outline,” I tell Brittany for two reasons. First, I need to stop thinking about getting naked with her in front of Miss Koto. Second, I want Brittany to myself. “I’m busy Thursday,” she says. Probably with Burro Face. Obviously she’d rather be with that pendejo than me. “Friday then,” I say, testing her although I probably shouldn’t. Testing a girl like Brittany could put a serious damper on my ego. Although I caught her at a time when she’s vulnerable and still shaking from seeing my blood. I admit I’m a manipulative asshole. She bites her bottom lip that she thinks is glossed with the wrong color. “I can’t Friday, either.” My hard-on is officially deflated. “What about Saturday morning?” she says. “We can meet at the Fairfield Library.” “You sure you can pencil me into your busy schedule?” “Shut up. I’ll meet you there at ten.” “It’s a date,” I say while Miss Koto, obviously eavesdropping, finishes wrapping my arm with dorky gauze. Brittany gathers her books. “It’s not a date, Alex,” she says over her shoulder. I grab my book and hurry into the hallway after her. She’s walking alone. The loudspeaker music isn’t playing so class is still on. “It might not be a date, but you still owe me a kiss. I always collect debts.” My chem partner’s eyes go from dull to shining mad and full of fire. Mmm, dangerous. I wink at her. “And don’t sweat about what lip gloss to wear on Saturday. You’ll just have to reapply it after we make out.

Kane, how are you so fucking tight…" Avery pistoned his hips, driving Kane into the edge of the vanity with each snap of his hips. The moment was perfect, too perfect. Kane reared back, arching his body, and met Avery thrust for thrust. "You've been…ah…bottoming the last few times," Kane groaned. Avery closed his eyes and gritted his teeth. His husband always did that when he concentrated on holding his load. Kane kept his eyes open, looking at their reflection in the mirror. He loved watching Avery make love to him. "Keep going." Kane lifted his dress shirt up and over his head. He tossed it across the top of the toilet and began stroking himself. He was close, very close, and Avery never stopped pounding away at his ass. He tightened his grip, desperately wanting to come, but trying hard to keep it at bay. "Feel good?" Avery's voice was deep, breathy. "Yeah," was the only thing he could manage at the moment. "So good. Fuck, Kane, I could do this all night." "Avery…yes." Kane strained to hold back his orgasm. He rolled his hips then pushed back, grinding against Avery, taking him deep inside. Avery responded just like Kane imagined he would—his lover's eyes opened, and shot straight to their reflection in the mirror, meeting his. Avery's heated gaze pierced Kane to the core. "Come for me," Kane whispered. "You're so beautiful. You're mine. You're always mine." Avery's eyes stayed locked on his. Avery gripped Kane's hips tightly and bucked harder, nailing his spot over and over. Fire surged through Kane's veins. "Come with me!" "Now!" Kane loosened his tight grip on the sink to stroke himself faster, dropping his head down on to the counter as his body tensed and his ass contracted hard around Avery. His release jetted from his body, painting the cabinet and floor with ribbons of white, taking his breath, and buckling his knees with pleasure. He was barely conscious of missing the slacks pooled around his shoes. He closed his eyes as loud moans escaped his lips. He savored every second of Avery's pulsing cock filling him with liquid heat from the inside out.

While the first ships were arriving in Dunkirk, Churchill and the war cabinet were meeting for the third time that day, and his own struggle with his Foreign Secretary was now joined: they disagreed about whether Hitler’s terms, offered through the Italians, would be outrageous or not. Churchill said they would be worthless. He didn’t feel strong enough to oppose him outright, and tried to delay a decision until they knew what was happening in Dunkirk.

It's not very much fun having to wear underwear, when you want to shart a big spray of diarrhea, during a President's Cabinet meeting, every day!

I’ve laid down the law, though, to everyone from now on about anything that happens: no matter what time it is, wake me, even if it’s in the middle of a Cabinet meeting.

Hitler had shouted at Wilson in their face-to-face meeting that as far as he was concerned, the British cabinet and the Czechoslovak government had only two choices: to accept his terms or to reject them. If they chose the latter, Hitler thundered, then repeated several times, “I will smash the Czechs.” He gave the governments until two P.M. the following day to accept his terms.50

At any rate, since the rise of mass democracy no political leader has seriously proposed to use the ‘ignorance’ of the voters – any more than their level of education or the lack of taxable property – as excuses to restrict the right to vote at national or local elections. From the viewpoint of democratic theory, therefore, the arguments of integrationist leaders and their academic supporters against ratification by referendum, are flawed. In refusing to meet the requirements of modern mass democracy, pro-integration leaders are conditioned by a political culture in many respects similar to that prevailing before the great reforms of the franchise in the nineteenth century, when policy was considered a virtual monopoly of cabinets, diplomats, and top bureaucrats. In this as in other respects the political culture of old-regime Europe still influences the supposedly post-modern system of governance of the EU (Majone 2005: 46–51).

Come in,” said his father. Tad found the president writing busily. “Hello, Tadpole.” “There sure are lots of folks waiting to see you, Pa.” “That’s because this war has gone on far too long,” his father muttered. “So many killed and wounded.” Tad nodded sadly. The president removed his spectacles and rubbed his eyes. “Well, at least tomorrow will be a bright spot,” he said, motioning for Tad to come closer. “Now, what’s this I hear about a toll?” “It’s for wounded soldiers, Pa!” Mr. Lincoln put a hand on Tad’s shoulder. “First you tried to sell our good clothes on the White House lawn. Then you blasted the Cabinet Room door with your toy cannon. And now this toll.” “But, Pa…” His father interrupted. “I think it’s fine that you want to raise money to help the soldiers. But charging people to meet with me is not the way. I must be available to the people during these hard times. Do you understand?” “Yes, Pa,” Tad said, looking down. The president stroked his whiskers. “Why don’t you go back to running your fruit stand? That was a good idea, and our visitors appreciated it.” “All right, Pa.” His father winked. “But no more tolls. Now off you go.

The mandarins were less than overjoyed to see the government get off the hook so easily. At their weekly meetings in the Cabinet Office the permanent secretaries indulged in a fit of collective pique. “You should have heard them crowing,” said Sir Richard Hildrew, the Cabinet Secretary. “Actually stood up and applauded him there and then. Have you ever known government ministers who behave as though they are at a football match?” He shook his head wearily. What was the country coming to?

[Former Australian Prime Minister John Howard] would not schedule any Cabinet meetings in the evening because he'd previously observed as a minister that any meeting after dinner and a couple of glasses of wine was an 'inefficient use of time'. ... Predictable? Most of the time, yes. But in Howard's view, a regular timetable was also a courtesy, as much for other people's benefit as his own. For his security detail, younger men and women who often had children. For his staff, who regularly had to be reminded to take a lunchbreak. And also for his ministers, obliged to attend endless public functions.

Former secretary of defense James Mattis told colleagues he would often get late-night calls from Trump, in which the president fulminated about an issue, often threatening to carry out wildly irresponsible actions. These included, according to a source close to Mattis, the belief that we should immediately attack North Korea (during the early days of his intemperate Twitter campaign against that country). In each of these instances, the cerebral, seasoned Mattis would adopt what became an approach emulated by many in Trump’s cabinet. He would hear out the president’s late-night rant and then, to defuse the issue, promise to think about it and ask to meet the next day to discuss it. Often by then Trump’s “temperature had gone down a few degrees,” said one very senior Trump Pentagon official. “Or at least you could invite other people into the room—the calls late at night were often one on one—and ideally some of them were more rational and would help talk the president off the ledge.

The weekly meeting of permanent secretaries takes place in the boardroom of the Cabinet Office overlooking Horse-guards’ Parade. As the senior civil servants in charge of each of the main Whitehall departments, they meet, in theory, to co-ordinate government policy. In practice they also sometimes co-ordinate resistance to government policy.

Clark had no intention of asking the secretary of state why he had called this meeting. The senator knew why. His spies in the White House and over at Foggy Bottom had told him there had been an incident between the president and his top Cabinet member. An incident involving the German ambassador and one that had been extremely embarrassing to Secretary Midleton

VPs of Administration and Finance represent the interests of that business vertical. They are also strongly partial to the systems used by that business vertical. For example, within a medical university, they cannot be expected to also represent marketing; advancement; communications; business development; client relations; disease control; provost; faculty; student life; or other departments. Think about your enterprise: How can the person overseeing finance be impartial or well-informed across all your departments? Under many organizations' reporting structures, the CIO is expected to develop relationships with these other business verticals, but since they report to the CFO they are excluded from the very cabinet meetings where leaders congregate. Even when CIOs are invited, they are not considered of equal rank -- because they are not. Everyone views the CFO as the final authority for IT decisions, leading to some serious problems. In these organizations, finance drives strategy instead of strategy driving finance. IT is seen as a cost center and there is a perennial pressure to cut costs and reduce expenditures -- often at the detriment of strategy. Cybersecurity may be non-existent in these organizations. Setting appropriate salaries for CIOs and people reporting to the CIOs becomes impossible.

Behind its spectacular topographical façade and under its polished, semi-fashionable surface, Stockholm had become an asphalt jungle, where drug addiction and sexual perversion ran more rampant than ever. Unscrupulous profiteers could make enormous profits quite legally on pornography of the smuttiest kind. Professional criminals became not only more numerous but also better organized. An impoverished proletariat was also being created, especially among the elderly. Inflation had given rise to one of the highest costs of living in the world, and the latest surveys showed that many pensioners had to live on dog and cat food in order to make ends meet. The fact that juvenile delinquency and alcoholism (which had always been a problem) continued to increase surprised no one but those with responsible positions in the Civil Service and at the Cabinet level. Stockholm.

What I’m trying to say, Ruben, is that meeting this horrible man and his horrible wife, it made me realize something. It made me realize I don’t believe in anything anymore and not just that, but I don’t care. I have no beliefs and I’m OK with it; I’m more than OK, I’m glad . . . I’m glad I’m getting older without convictions . . .” “What’s Judy always saying, and her friends? ‘It’s copacetic’?” “It’s copacetic.” She retook my arm and we walked on, a pair of sweethearts in the snow. Our block was totally socked in. Hedgerows of snow. The pearly humps of cars. We shuffled up the steps to our door, where the snow was soft and powdery and, even at the topmost step, under the overhang, calf-high. I think of it as a blessing: may you never lock your door . . . may you never have to lock your door . . . I opened the door and—resisting the impulse to sweep her up like a bride—held it open for Edith. She stepped inside. She crunched onto the mat and bent down to untie her laces but stopped and turned and clung to me. I looked over her shoulder, through the lens fog, and saw our new television cabinet tipped over face-first, its screen shattered, and the youngest Netanyahu boy curled fetal atop a mound of gingerbread house scraps and glass.

he may have crossed the borderline into insanity.” Henderson wasn’t in Hitler’s thrall. But did he think Hitler had dishonorable intentions toward Czechoslovakia? No. Hitler, he believed, “hates war as much as anyone.” Henderson, too, read Hitler all wrong.2 The blindness of Chamberlain and Halifax and Henderson is not at all like Puzzle Number One, from the previous chapter. That was about the inability of otherwise intelligent and dedicated people to understand when they are being deceived. This is a situation where some people were deceived by Hitler and others were not. And the puzzle is that the group who were deceived are the ones you’d expect not to be, while those who saw the truth are the ones you’d think would be deceived. Winston Churchill, for example, never believed for a moment that Hitler was anything more than a duplicitous thug. Churchill called Chamberlain’s visit “the stupidest thing that has ever been done.” But Hitler was someone he’d only ever read about. Duff Cooper, one of Chamberlain’s cabinet ministers, was equally clear-eyed. He listened with horror to Chamberlain’s account of his meeting with Hitler. Later, he would resign from Chamberlain’s government in protest. Did Cooper know Hitler? No. Only one person in the upper reaches of the British diplomatic service—Anthony Eden, who preceded Halifax as foreign secretary—had both met Hitler and saw the truth of him. But for everyone else? The people who were right about Hitler were those who knew

After the ribbon-cutting ceremony, at precisely eleven-thirty, the lights suddenly went on throughout the entire building, and Smith used an occasional silver key to open the doors. The magic act with the lights did not yet qualify as a tradition but at least had a precedent. In 1913, Frank W. Woolworth had inveigled President Woodrow Wilson into pressing a button from the White House that would turn on the Woolworth Building’s lights, and Smith had President Herbert Hoover do the same. On the stroke of the half hour, Hoover took a break from a cabinet meeting to flick the switch in Washington.

Because of his declining health and preference for desert camping over cabinet meetings, Khalid allowed Crown Prince Fahd to act as day-to-day ruler. A Royal Decree issued in May 1975 granted Fahd full responsibility for the routine management of the kingdom.

Silent departure of its members is an important property of government. To speak out even after leaving is to go into the wilderness; by exhibiting disloyalty to bar return within the circle. The same reasons account for reluctance to resign. The official can always convince himself that he can exercise more restraining influence inside, and he then remains acquiescent lest his connection with power be terminated. The effect of the American Presidency with its power of appointment in the Executive branch is overbearing. Advisers find it hard to say no to the President or to dispute policy because they know that their status, their invitation to the next White House meeting, depends on staying in line. If they are Cabinet officers, they have in the American system no parliamentary seat to return to from which they may retain a voice in government.

At 5:21 p.m. Trump tweeted: “General Jim Mattis will be retiring, with distinction, at the end of February… General Mattis was a great help to me in getting allies and other countries to pay their share of military obligations… I greatly thank Jim for his service!” But three days later, Trump said that Mattis would be leaving early, on January 1. At a cabinet meeting the next day, Trump said, “What’s he done for me? How has he done in Afghanistan? Not so good. I’m not happy with what he’s done in Afghanistan and I shouldn’t be happy.” Trump continued, “As you know, President Obama fired him, and essentially so did I.” Later he called Mattis “the world’s most overrated general.” When I asked Trump about Mattis a year later, the president said Mattis was “just a PR guy.” Mattis summarized, “When I was basically directed to do something that I thought went beyond stupid to felony stupid, strategically jeopardizing our place in the world and everything else, that’s when I quit.

I have chosen to believe that a desire to be creative was encoded into my DNA for reasons I will never know, and that creativity will not go away from me unless I forcibly kick it away, or poison it dead. Every molecule of my being has always pointed me toward this line of work—toward language, storytelling, research, narrative. If destiny didn’t want me to be a writer, I figure, then it shouldn’t have made me one. But it did make me one, and I’ve decided to meet that destiny with as much good cheer and as little drama as I can—because how I choose to handle myself as a writer is entirely my own choice. I can make my creativity into a killing field, or I can make it into a really interesting cabinet of curiosities. I can even make it into an act of prayer.

For one thing, possibly this war has more profoundly shaken the Chinese clan-family system than any previous catastrophe. Of course, the system is not unique to China but characteristic of many feudal and semi-feudal societies surviving in Asia. It is still vigorous in India and is probably stronger in Japan, with peculiar differences, than in China. Total war imposed on the individual Chinese heavy and complicated problems which the limited resources of familism were no longer able to meet alone. The mass need for security in the face of unprecedented catastrophe results in new forms of social combination and interdependence, and a greater readiness to submit to broad group authority. Millions of people have been separated from their relatives and even their parents, some by army conscription, some in the confusion of escape from death, but thousands by voluntary desertion of family for country. If a Chinese Gallup could circulate a questionnaire among China's youth today, to ask, "What is your first duty?" the finding might be considered revolutionary. Quite a percentage would answer, "To China" instead of "To my family." Confucius said wu wei meant simply that the highest duty of man is to serve one's parents while they are alive, to bury them with propriety when dead, and to worship them with propriety when buried. "All you need to take with you to govern China," Akira Kazami advised the Japanese Cabinet of which he is chief secretary, "is the Confucian Analects." But in many ways the 2,500 years of Confucian domination of the Chinese intellect is being overthrown. Filial piety is no longer the glorified thing it was once.

Has anyone considered that this might be the act of a local Cambodian commander who has just taken it into his own hands to halt any ship that comes by?” Heads swiveled to look. Who on earth was talking? It was David Hume Kennerly, the twenty-eight-year-old White House photographer. White House photographers, who attend nearly every presidential meeting, are supposed to be flies on the wall. They snap and don’t speak—but not this time. What was the photographer doing injecting his views into a top secret NSC meeting? The people in the Cabinet Room were among the most powerful in the world. No outsider would dare interrupt them, particularly as they debated U.S. military action. The absolute chutzpah of this young man was stunning. And then he went on. “Has anyone stopped to think that he might not have gotten his orders from Phnom Penh?” Kennerly asked. “If that’s what has happened, you know, you can blow the whole place away and it’s not gonna make any difference. Everyone here has been talking about Cambodia as if it were a traditional government, like France. We have trouble with France, we just pick up the telephone and call. We know who to talk to. But I was in Cambodia just two weeks ago, and it’s not that kind of government at all. We don’t even know who the leadership is. Has anyone considered that?

Tony sometimes talks as if he is the only just man. ... He’s a very persuasive speaker. You think he believes every word of it and I think he does, actually. That’s why he comes across. There’s no fake in it. But my impression is that his family—two or three of them—don’t agree with him. They don’t say it because they don’t want to hurt him. In the first cabinet where I was—who you sit next to is quite important—you see how the other chap operates. Of course, Tony had been in many cabinets ... Tony was on one side and Tony Crosland on the other. I got more fun out of it that way, I must say. Tony [Benn] was keeping his diary ... Crosland was an interesting chap. Quite a lot of arguments with Tony Crosland ... I had an argument with him on one occasion about Hazlitt because despite the fact I was in the bloody cabinet, I saw that it was Hazlitt’s two hundredth anniversary. They [the Times] asked me to do an article and I did it—this was before Murdoch had taken over. The next week [during a cabinet meeting] Tony Crosland says, “Fancy a chap who has time to write articles when he’s in the cabinet. We’re not like that. We have to get on with the bloody work.” I said, “Well, it so happens I’ve been waiting a long time to write that article. That’s my excuse.” But I got back on him because he produced a book called Socialism Now. Three or four weeks later [in cabinet] I said, “Socialism Now—that’s a wonderful title. We are trying to work on a decent incomes policy and here I read a book by you called Socialism Now. I’ve looked through it ten times. There’s no chapter on incomes policy.

said Yitzhak Rabin, addressing the first full meeting of the Israeli Cabinet since the crisis had begun on Sunday, ‘I want to say that any information that leaks out today can end up costing lives. So I ask you not to behave normally regarding this issue.’ In other words, speak to no one. An hour and a half earlier he had met with Yitzhak Navon, the chairman of the Knesset Foreign Affairs

Hitler wanted new environs, new men and new methods. He began appointing special plenipotentiaries to perform certain tasks parallel to the fossilizing government agencies – it was less exhausting than trying to revive the latter. The Ribbentrop bureau was one example. Cabinet meetings as such virtually ceased late in 1937. Instead Hitler dealt directly – through Lammers – with affairs of state, while he transmitted his will directly to the ministers and generals without discussion.

de Valera summoned a Cabinet meeting of the members available in Dublin and announced that he was calling for the resignations of the three absent members, Collins, Barton and Griffith. Cosgrave stood up to him, saying he ought to wait to see what the three had to say first.

Among us friends, let’s be honest,” a prominent presidential advisor once remarked, after the pro-chaos crowd left a White House meeting. The slimmed-down group was comprised of White House officials and cabinet secretaries. “About a third of the things the president wants us to do are flat-out stupid. Another third would be impossible to implement and wouldn’t even solve the problem. And a third of them would be flat-out illegal.” Heads nodded. That

Some time ago N went over to Paris disguised as an opera singer, and he looked the part so well that the agent whom he was to meet thought he really was an opera singer and never went near him for a week. In fact, it turned out a little awkwardly, because one evening this agent saw a member of the French Cabinet dining at the Ritz and he looked so much like somebody disguised as an opera singer that this dam' fool of an agent went up and spoke to him. He was at once arrested by the French secret police, and there was nearly a most unpleasant scandal.

Japan’s institutions proved just as fragile as its supposedly unshakeable buildings. In Tokyo, it took politicians several hours to work out what was going on. A cabinet meeting in the morning had been told erroneously that a quake had hit Kyoto, fifty miles from the actual site of the disaster. Communications had collapsed, meaning little information was getting in or out. Authorities dithered about whether they should send in the Self Defence Forces, Japan’s army-equivalent, which was still mistrusted by the public half a century after the war. The rescue response was so haphazard that yakuza gang members … were reported to be firs ton the scene with food and blankets. Into the institutional vacuum poured hundreds of thousands of volunteers whose actions began to see the idea that people, not governments, or bureaucrats, were the ones who could get things done. It was an unsettling turn of events for a population that had, by and large, trusted the authorities for four decades to do the right thing.

Recently he would have encountered this outlandish tweet from Elizabeth Warren: “Thank you @BlackWomxnFor! Black trans and cis women, gender-nonconforming, and nonbinary people are the backbone of our democracy.” Warren has also pledged that, if elected in 2020, she will fill half her cabinet with “women and non-binary people.”2 FDR would probably have no idea what she was talking about. Who are these people and how could they be the “backbone of our democracy”? They certainly seem to be the backbone of the socialist left. At a recent meeting of the Democratic Socialists, FDR would have encountered a strange menagerie of activists calling themselves ecosocialists, Afro-socialists, Islamo-socialists, Chicano socialists, sanctuary socialists, #MeToo socialists, disability socialists, queer socialists and transgender socialists.

While Mussolini toiled long hours at his desk, Hitler continued to indulge in the lazy bohemian dilettantism of his art-student days. When aides sought his attention for urgent matters, Hitler was often inaccessible. He spent much time at his Bavarian retreat; even in Berlin he often neglected pressing business. He subjected his dinner guests to midnight monologues, rose at midday, and devoted his afternoons to personal passions such as plans by his young protege Albert Speer to reconstruct his hometown of Linz and the center of Berlin in a monumental style benefiting the Thousand-Year Reich. After February 1938 the cabinet ceased to meet; some cabinet ministers never managed to see the Fuhrer at all. Hans Mommsen went so far as to call him a 'weak dictator.' Mommsen never meant to deny the unlimited nature of Hitler's vaguely defined and haphazardly exercised power, but he observed that the Nazi regime was not organized on rational principles of bureaucratic efficiency, and that its astonishing burst of murderous energy was not produced by Hitler's diligence. Neither an extreme intentionalist view of the all-powerful leader ruling alone nor an extreme structuralist view that initiatives from below are the main motor of fascist dynamism is tenable. In the 1990s, the most convincing work established two-way explanations in which competition among midlevel officials to anticipate the leader's intimate wishes and 'work toward' them are given due place, while the leader's role in establishing goals and removing limits and rewarding zealous associates plays its indispensable role.

The failure of the United States to move ahead with the meeting with Prince Konoe inevitably conveyed to him and his associates the unfortunate impression that our Government was merely playing for time and had no real intention to come to an agreement with Japan. It was this impression which finally brought about the fall of Prince Konoye’s cabinet.

Washington prepared, if only in his mind, the agenda of the meetings, and was so opposed to deviations that his ministers could only initiate a subject if they could somehow hook it onto some matter the President had decided to discuss. He was convivial with his cabinet ministers, but at social occasions he engaged only in light talk. No government official and no adviser, not even Jefferson or Hamilton, was encouraged to request an interview on his own. At any interview the President did grant, he discouraged personal revelation. No one was allowed to weep on his shoulder.

On July 2nd, Cleveland convened a Cabinet meeting to discuss the railroad strike. Prior to the meeting, the President had met with General Nelson Miles, Commander of the Army’s Western Department. In Miles’ opinion, it was not yet necessary to send in troops to quell the labor uprising, with Secretary of War Lamont in concurrence. When Attorney General Olney arrived at the Cabinet meeting and presented the telegram from the U.S. Marshall, which had also been endorsed by a Judge, P.S. Grosscup, and Thomas E. Milchrist, the U.S. Attorney for Chicago, Lamont changed his mind.

remember one meeting that typified the resistance Trump faced in Washington from both Republicans and Democrats. A veteran of the George W. Bush administration came to see me to discuss US-China trade policy. While he fully agreed with our aims on China, he thought that using tariffs was a grave mistake. When I asked him what he would recommend instead, he suggested more rounds of talks. I said the first thing that came to mind: “So you want us to accomplish something you couldn’t by doing it the same way you did it?” For the Washington establishment, the answer to that question was a resounding yes. Many Beltway insiders are experts at pointing out problems, but they’re even better at shutting down solutions. When confronted with the potential risks of change, they play it safe for fear that any disruption to the current system will jeopardize their political careers. This explains why even some of Trump’s own cabinet members clashed with him and those of us who believed that it was time to take calibrated risks and deliver more opportunities for the American people. Instead of spending endless energy diagnosing the problem, I focused on clearly defining the optimal solution and then worked backwards to reach the best possible outcome.

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Shamir made the claim in a meeting with an American diplomat on September 17,49 even though the United States government knew for certain that this was not the case—Sharon himself told the Israeli cabinet a day earlier that