Bark Over Bite?

Insight on the News, July 24, 2000 by Sean Paige

The original mission of federal inspectors general was to take a bite out of government waste and abuse. But critics worry that they are being muzzled in the name of reform.

Raise your hands if you've heard the story about the U.S. government's $640 toilet seat. How about its $400 hammer, or that $500,000 outhouse Uncle Sam built in Pennsylvania, complete with a gabled slate roof and homey front porch? Or the recent news that it takes two federal agencies -- two! -- to oversee the making of frozen pizzas: one with responsibility for plain, the other with authority over pepperoni.

Now raise your hands if you know from where these and other legends of wasteful government spending came. One you read in a newspaper or magazine, another you heard on some talk show. But where do they originate? Surprisingly, in most cases they come from sources deep inside the government itself and are brought to light by a little-known, hardly appreciated and rarely lauded group of good-government gadflies called inspectors general, or IGs. They, too, fall under the oft-tarnished rubric of "government bureaucrats" -- only their mission, when they live up to it, is keeping watch over all the other government bureaucrats, with a cold eye on the bottom line, or hunting down the con artists, thieves and cheats who buzz like flies over the bloated carcass of the U.S. government.

It is through IG audits, inspections or investigations that most examples of wanton waste and mismanagement surface -- a fact that might make them heroes to taxpayers (if most taxpayers knew who they were) but pariahs to Washington's political, bureaucratic and lobbying elite, whose primary interest is spending other people's money rather than accounting for it.

"They aren't the most popular people in Washington, let's put it that way," says one longtime observer of the watchdogs.

Much of the work of IGs is behind-the-scenes, down in the boiler room of the federal bureaucracy: tightening a bolt here, adjusting a steam valve there, making boring repairs that receive little attention. But once most taxpayers realize that they're the closest thing to an ally they have in Washington, some begin to take an interest.

"Congress placed IGs inside agencies, as opposed to outside agencies, so they'd have good inside knowledge of what's going on there, but gave them a lot of authority and protection to ensure sufficient independence," says one IG staff person by way of explaining their unique status. "They can identify problems and recommend solutions but, because they have no enforcement authority, they can't actually make the fix themselves."

Like their canine namesakes, the government's internal watchdogs aren't of one breed and temperament: Some will bite (often even the hand that feeds them) while others won't bark; some are alert and vigilant, others are lapdogs for their agency bosses. "If you've met one IG... then you've met one IG," is how insiders often describe the lack of uniformity.

David Williams, the former Secret Service agent who heads the government's newest IG office, the Treasury Inspector General for Tax Administration, or TIGTA, often is cited as being among the best in the business -- "an IG's IG," according to some.

The new agency was created by Congress in response to evidence that its predecessor -- it answered to the head of the IRS -- wasn't independent enough. And Williams seems intent on religiously following his congressional mandate. He has received attention for his aggressive, innovative approach to the job. While with the Social Security Administration, he established a special Strategic Enforcement Division to combat aggressively sophisticated and organized-crime groups running scams against that agency.

He's brought that same proactive approach to TIGTA by setting up a similar troubleshooting unit there. "I think that many times IG investigations tend to be reactive," says Williams. "The strategic-enforcement concept allows you to look at the entire agency and take a strategic approach to problems that might not come to your attention otherwise."

When asked how his approach might differ from some of his IG peers, Williams says: "I would say that typically I've been on the more aggressive end of the spectrum." He sees the value of playing a constructive role in assisting agency heads in making good management choices in the formative stages of decision-making, but he knows when not to pull his punches. "It's a very difficult challenge to develop a constructive relationship with someone when you're both aware of the fact that as an IG, you might be called upon to investigate them or their department for criminal activities," says Williams.

But not every IG has shown Williams' initiative and independence. Because IG offices frequently mirror the personality traits of the individual at the helm, some are more aggressive and outspoken than others, exposing not only a broad difference in leadership style among IGs but what appears to be a growing schism in professional philosophies. And that schism has been widened, and the fine line IGs walk has been made even finer, say some observers, by Vice President Al Gore's National Performance Review, or NPR, that has set IGs on a course which some critics say could compromise their effectiveness and necessary independence.