- Hardcover: 384 pages ; Dimensions (in inches): 1.31 x 9.24 x 7.02
- Publisher: Random House; ; (January 7, 2003)
- ISBN: 0375509038
- Average Customer Review:
Based on 3 reviews. Write a review.
- Amazon.com Sales Rank: 13
Posted on 01/08/2003 10:24:48 AM PST by Jean S
EXCLUSIVE EXCERPT
The only excerpt anywhere of The Right Man, the controversial new White House insider’s assessment of America’s 43rd president, by former speechwriter David Frum.
“He felt not merely angry, but surprised— and betrayed”
From September until January 2001, the nation’s business was debated in hushed, decorous tones. Some of us were naïve enough to expect that the change might even be permanent, or at any rate lasting.
President Bush hoped that could be so. He scheduled breakfasts with the four top congressional leaders in the Family Dining Room. He courted the Democrats with special assiduity and thanked them loud and often for their cooperation. “It is oftentimes said,” he observed while taking questions at the Cabinet table on Oct. 21, “that when it comes to foreign policy, partisanship stops, and that’s exactly what has happened ... because whether you’re Republican or Democrat, we all want to win this war.” And he offered them concession after concession.
The Democratic leaders wanted airport security screeners to join the federal workforce. Bush assented. They wanted federal unemployment and healthcare benefits for workers displaced by the terror attacks. They got them. They asked that New York’s emergency aid pay not just to rebuild lower Manhattan, but to improve it. So it was done. They urged Bush to focus his post attack economic stimulus on low-wage workers. He did that, too.
What did Bush get in return? On Jan. 4, 2002, Daschle accused Bush of responsibility for the “most dramatic fiscal deterioration in our nation’s history.”
Daschle’s speech was an extremely strange one: Hundreds of thousands of people were losing their jobs every month; the U.S. airline industry was plunging toward bankruptcy; the stock market was twitching; the dollar was slumping — and Daschle was worried about the disappearance of that great pile of money he had mentally earmarked for his postwar spending spree.
The push and shove of normal politics had returned, and they became personal, as they always do.
Early in January, The New York Times reported that some Daschle aides were complaining that Bush seemed “disengaged” and “uninformed” at the breakfasts with congressional leaders. Soon afterward, I attended a meeting at which Bush issued stern orders: Nobody in the White House was to reply to this story. There must be no criticism of Daschle, not a single word. It was a magnanimous order, but it was delivered in a more embittered tone than I had ever heard from him. He sounded as if he felt not merely angry, but surprised — and betrayed.
Bush believed that Sept. 11 was an event as historically profound as the beginning of the Cold War. And on the Cold War model, Bush had hoped that Daschle would grow into the Arthur Vandenberg of his administration, Vandenberg being the formerly isolationist Republican senator from Michigan who put aside his differences with President Truman on domestic policy to help pass the Marshall Plan and military aid to Greece and Turkey in 1947. Instead, Daschle was proving himself Bush’s Robert Taft, another senator (and would-be president) who could not let go of the partisan animosities of the past — or curb a sharp and spiteful tongue.
I don’t know whether Daschle ever offered any personal apology for the secondhand insult. The purpose of the breakfast meetings was to draw the leaders of Congress closer to Bush. Did Daschle fear being pulled too close? Was he looking for some way to break Bush’s embrace? Did he hope by offending Bush to be disinvited from the breakfasts — and thus (in his own mind, at least) be relieved from any duty to support the president in time of war? A friend of mine put this last question to Daschle directly — and the only reply the majority leader made was an enigmatic smile. Whether Daschle intended it or not, relations between the men never recovered. The leadership breakfasts dwindled away.
Bush had hoped for too much. He had expected the war to trump politics.
But New York Times columnist Paul Krugman pungently summed up the emerging point of view of the Democratic Party, or at least its liberal wing. “I predict,” he wrote in a Jan. 29, 2002, column, “that in the years ahead Enron, not Sept. 11, will come to be seen as the greater turning point in U.S. society.” Daschle never denied the significance of the war quite so boldly. But from the Jan. 5 speech onward, he and the Senate Democrats certainly acted as if they agreed with Krugman that the war was really a distraction from more important domestic issues. There would be no more sinking of old differences for the common cause.
Between Sept. 11 and the end of the year, close to one million Americans lost their jobs. At the beginning of October, Bush outlined a set of proposals for cushioning the economy’s plunge. Despite his amazing popularity, the proposals represented his best assessment of the halfway point between the Democrats’ wish list and his own. If there was ever a moment at which a president might get carried away with his own power, the first week in October was it. But Bush restrained himself and suggested proposals that would have administered a good old-fashioned Keynesian jolt to the slumping U.S. economy.
The House quickly approved a plan resembling Bush’s. The Senate spurned him. So Bush tried again. In late October, Republican and some conservative Democratic senators negotiated a less-generous stimulus plan. Treasury Secretary Paul O’Neill gave it the nod on Bush’s behalf — and again Daschle rejected it.
Budget Director Mitch Daniels wrote a memo in December pointing out that when Franklin Roosevelt mobilized the nation to fight World War II, he ordered that all expenditures be “held at the present level and below, if possible, and all new work projects trimmed out.” Between 1939 and 1942, federal social spending was cut by 22 percent.
Daniels was not suggesting — not seriously, anyway — that we attempt to emulate FDR’s draconian fiscal discipline. But he did try to remind Congress that the year in which the federal government had to rebuild New York, save the airline industry, help modernize the nation’s emergency forces, and fight a war on the other side of the planet against all the governments implicated in terrorism was not the ideal time to raise domestic spending. The senators blew right past him. As they saw it, a year when all these commitments had to be paid for was a perfect time to spend more on their pet projects — with everybody so distracted, people were unlikely to notice the pilfering of a few hundred million dollars here and the misdirection of a billion over there.
The new leadership of the Senate hardly bothered to tabulate this spending. Daschle listed three causes for the country’s move from projected budget surpluses to projected budget deficits: the war, the recession and the Bush tax cut. He did not even mention spending. And of course Daschle attributed “most” of the deterioration — 54 percent — to the tax cut.
This was misleading, and I think it was meant to be misleading.
In the fiscal year that ended on Sept. 30, 2001, the U.S. government had posted a budget surplus of $127 billion. At the time of Daschle’s speech, January 2002, the Congressional Budget Office was projecting a deficit of $21 billion for fiscal 2002. It would ultimately weigh in at more than $106 billion. Almost all of this hard, hold-it-in-your-hand swing from surplus to deficit can be attributed to war and recession: The tax cut accounted for only about 15 percent of it.
What Daschle was lamenting on Jan. 5 was the drastic shrinkage in the surpluses projected for the decade from 2002 to 2011. In January 2001, these were estimated to total $5.6 trillion. By January 2002, they had shrunk to $1.6 trillion. Daschle was right that the Bush tax cut was the single most important cause of this shrinkage. Over the next 10 years, the federal government would have $4 trillion less to play with than Daschle hoped, and of this $4 trillion close to one third had been sent home by the Bush tax cut. No surprise there: Returning the surplus to the taxpayers before Congress could spend it had been one of the tax cut’s principal objectives. But what had happened to the other two—thirds of the surplus?
The short answer is that, by Daschle’s own accounting, it was the slowdown in economic growth after Sept. 11 that ate most deeply into this spendable $4.3 trillion.
Congress’ endless demands for more money for domestic programs, war or no war, did not help, either.
Daschle saw the “who lost the surplus” argument as a devastating weapon against Bush. But Bush was delighted to play Roosevelt to Daschle’s Hoover.
So, at the beginning of December, Bush fired up Air Force One to campaign for his second round of anti-recession tax cuts. His first stop was Orlando, Fla., a city hit hard by the collapse in the travel business. Bush would visit a job training center and then lead a Town Hall meeting.
The Town Hall was not one of Bush’s favorite formats, but today, these people were happy just to see their president’s face and hear his voice. They had pulled their children out of school. And when Bush stepped onto the stage — in front of a giant banner that read “Fighting for American Workers” — they cheered and waved and cheered some more. These were not the dedicated partisans of the Republican National Convention. They were a cross section of central Florida — white, black and Hispanic; young, middle—aged and old; Christian, Jewish and Muslim — and they were cheering so loud that I worried they would hurt themselves. So this, I thought, is what a 90 percent presidency looks like.
Back on the plane, Bush passed through the rear, still flushed with exhilaration.
“Well, who do I blame for that fiasco?”
So how could this revered national figure fail to pass an acceleration of his tax plan through a Senate that had passed the original plan in record time only six months before? One theory blamed his Treasury secretary, Paul O’Neill. O’Neill had supposedly failed to impress the New York financial community, and that, in turn, had supposedly undercut his clout with Congress.
No question, O’Neill could sometimes be ham-handed. But whatever O’Neill’s sins and vagaries, the failure to sell the stimulus package cannot be laid at his door. Treasury secretaries do not sell economic programs. Presidents do.
Or presidents don’t. And Bush didn’t. When Daschle assumed full control of the Senate on June 7, Karl Rove’s ground game ceased to work so well. Bush claimed in mid-December that he had the votes to pass the stimulus package if it came to a vote. I’m sure that was true. But it’s the Senate majority leader who decides what comes to a vote and what does not. And the only way to change the mind of an unwilling majority leader is by bringing immense public pressure to bear on him. And such a game would require Bush to play rougher than he had ever willingly played before.
Daschle was too cool a customer to be frightened by the mere fact of Bush’s popularity. He knew that a 90 percent approval rating is like the million—dollar banknote in the Mark Twain story: too big to be easily cashed.
To have forced his tax cut past Daschle, Bush would have had to threaten him with a direct leader-to-leader clash on fiscal issues. He would have had to stop being president of all the people and resume his former identity as a Republican president with a Republican agenda. Bush would probably have won that clash, but Daschle would have achieved his larger aim: shattering the mood of national unity and returning the country to politics-as-usual —or rather, politics-uglier-than-ever.
For in the first week of December 2001, American financial markets were rocked by appalling news: The Enron Corporation, the world’s largest energy trader, confessed that it had been guilty of the biggest fraud in American financial history and was about to go bankrupt.
The tone of much of the reporting on Enron insinuated that the Bush team was somehow complicit in the Enron debacle or, at any rate, had benefited from Enron’s fraud. Enron was often described as Bush’s “biggest supporter.” This was crazy. If you total every dollar that Enron, its affiliates, and its executives and their families gave to Bush’s two gubernatorial campaigns, his run for president, the recount fight, the Republican convention in 2000, and the Bush inaugural in 2001, you would arrive at a figure of at most $1 million. That’s a figure that would impress Bush’s favorite movie villain, Dr. Evil. But considering that Bush raised $190 million for his presidential run alone, Enron’s financial contribution to Bush’s political career amounted to little more than a rounding error.
The shock to the Bush staff from the Enron collapse, and especially to the more junior staffers who had not been forced to sell their shares to meet government ethics rules, was direct and painful. Their retirement plans and personal portfolios tumbled in value, a painful loss for people in government, who often supplement their salaries by drawing on their savings. The Enron bust depressed real estate values in Austin and Houston, another painful loss for those Bush staffers who had not yet sold their former homes. Even the president’s mother-in-law lost money on Enron.
The Bushies’ loss was the Democrats’ opportunity. You almost have to admire the audacity of the Democrats’ maneuver. In one breath, they took credit for the booming stock market of the 1990s; in the next, they blamed Bush for the fraud and corruption of the individual companies that made up the stock market. Had the situation been reversed — had a Democratic administration come to power just as eight years of corporate excess and wrongdoing under a Republican president came to light — nobody would think to blame the new administration for the crimes committed during the old administration’s tenure. And just to make sure of that, the new guys would have hauled the old guys’ Treasury secretary and Securities and Exchange Commission chief in front of a Senate investigating committee and tortured them for days on national television.
“And what were you doing, Mr. Secretary, while these tycoons were robbing their shareholders?”
Dick Morris was right: Republicans are not so nimble.
Early in January, the president summoned his writers into the Oval Office for a preview of the coming year. His message boiled down to this: We’re finished on the home front until November, boys. We’re finished on taxes, except maybe for capital gains — if we win the war, we’ll get our recovery. We’re finished on education, too — we have three years to see how the new reforms work. He spent a quarter of an hour angrily denouncing the Enron executives who had sold their stock while their workers’ accounts were frozen. He said over and over: “How could they do it? I don’t understand it.”
One idea after another for a major domestic or economic speech was thrown at him: Healthcare? Trade? He shot them all down.
It took us a while to get the message, but get it we eventually did. There was no more domestic agenda. The domestic agenda was the same as the foreign agenda: Win the war, then we’ll see.
This phrase once indicated a stoic ability to endure hardship and stay morally upright, a lá Job. Now it indicates a bland, dogmatically banal affability, a lack of intellectual ability, a disguised hostility to reason, and an enthusiastic surrender of one's right to make critical life affecting decisions to congregational group-think and group hypnosis. This was not always so.
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"One problem, and a failure, of religion has been that it has been founded exclusively on what is called faith. When that faith is challenged by differing assertions, adherents become defenseless and frightened in their absence of developed, reality-based intellect. In other cases, religious conversion and participation are based upon moving emotional experience. When something else subsequently moves people emotionally, or when the emotional glow wears thin, they are left abandoned and vulnerable. Even within their religion, they are left vulnerable. When their religious institutions become corrupt, they are too dependent or emotionally bound to resist that corruption. Too many among the religious are left desperately seizing on religion in terror to avoid their intellectual helplessness. That is not a healthy hold on a congregation. It is not an appealing condition to convert into. The clergy need to function as rational psychologists as well as guardians of faith. Any minister who does not devote as much time sermonizing the rational basis and need for morality, for ethics, for personal psychological honesty as he does sermonizing the Bible is guilty of betraying his congregation. There needs to be as much reality-thumping as Bible-thumping." From: My Quarrel With Religion in America
I know. Let 'em. More people will read the book as a result. Bush/(Rove's) masterful political jujitsu has convinced me, after years of bitterness, that liberal media bias has been a good thing for Republicans.
Because the media aggressively questions conservative policies, and because liberal ideas are not so stringently or relentlessly challenged, our ideas are more carefully honed and more effective than those of the libs (where they may charitably be said to have ideas). For the same reason conservatives have developed more articulate and direct explanations for why their policies are better. Libs get by on good intentions, or by impuging bad intentions to conservatives.
Because the media chronicles and trumpets each misstep by conservatives, they have become more sure footed. Because the media won't let us ignore them, real problems are dealt with. On the liberal side such problems are allowed to persist and fester.
As an example, contrast Senators Lott and Murray. Lott was forced to pay a price for his verbal gaff. He was seen to be punished, he was seen to agonize over the assumptions he held that led to the statement, and he was compelled to revise early and inadequate non-apology apologies. None of this is true in Murray's case, and the issue of her comments will have much more "bite" when inevitably revisisted by a challenger. Now Trent may lose and Patty may win, but if so this will be due to factors of demographics and the like within their respective states. I would still hold that the media double standard led Lott to do more mitigation (however bumbling) than he would otherwise have done, and has led Murray to do almost none. In the long run this will hurt Dims.
As an even better example, contrast Nixon and Clinton. There is no way in hell, even adjusting for all relevant differences in the historical contexts, that Republicans would have, or would have been allowed to, treat former President Nixon as Dims have treated Clinton. Sure Nixon hurt Republicans bad enough as it was, but can you imagine how much greater in magnitude and duration the effects would have been if Nixon had been hailed by rank and file Republicans as a beloved and important leader after he left office? What if Nixon had been allowed to hand pick the RNC chairman? What if he had been allowed to run the Party apparatus in a major state and edge out a primary contender in the gubenatorial race. What if he had been allowed to dictate the national distribution of Party campaign funds?
The effect would have been that Republican would have been branded with the stigma of Nixon for at least a decade. That could even have meant no Reagan. Imagine that, no Reagan. If the Dims have anything like a Reagan out there (sorry for the disgusting comparison) he or she has much less chance to emerge in a corrupt party that has willingly embraced its clintonization. And that's a good thing!
Based on 3 reviews. Write a review. I don't think so. I think he is on the offensive in domestic affairs, with his own blend of conservatism, which some don't, but I don't care about labels. He is not afraid to push in the domestic arena what he cares about, whether it is tax policy or education, or whatever. He is a moderate conservative overall (but not that moderate on certain issues), and of course disappoints those who are more to the right, but Bush never suggested he was otherwise. Bush may have flaws, but false advertising is not one of them.
I think that Frum knows how to market a White House book to get media attention. Why do I think he released excerpts early so that it would appear to be a book of discontent, but in the larger context paints Bush sympathetically.
And humble, don't forget humble.
Attention security! Another patient is impersonating the staff. Attention!
I'd add one more thing: since the liberal bias in the media is so pervasive and uniform, they are easy to predict. Hence, they can be played like a fiddle by a deft enough musician, such as Rove.
Before I shuffle off this mortal coil, I want some books from the major players of this time in our history...Cheney, Rumsfeld, Rice, Roce, and Laura and George Bush.
Frum is probably the closest we will get for a long time, so I am going to buy the book and read it. It HAS to be better than Woodward's, who has the writing skills of a high-school junior.
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