Window of Opportunity
He's hands-on, detail-oriented and hates 'yes' men. The George Bush you don't know has big dreams—and is racing the clock to realize them.
Jan. 24 issue - It was time to clean out his cabinet. The top jobs in his administration, President Bush decided last fall, had left people burned out and too beholden to the perks of high office. Besides, he was planning a big new agenda for his second term and wanted fresh legs to power it through. When asked how many cabinet officials he would fire, Bush told one close friend: "Basically everybody." The official story was that many of the cabinet officials were ready to move on; members would volunteer their own resignations. But as the election neared, several began to waver; it became clear they'd need to be shown the door. Other presidents might leave the tough stuff to subordinates, but Bush wanted to do the job himself. When it came time to say farewell, the exchanges in the Oval Office were surprisingly emotional. "They were shocked and really hurt, and that hurt him," says one confidant.
Health and Human Services Secretary Tommy Thompson was one of the walking wounded. A former governor like Bush, he'd toiled on the president's first White House campaign and considered himself a friend. Thompson talked openly of moving to the private sector after 40 years in public life. Yet behind the scenes he also floated the idea of staying around as head of Homeland Security. Early in the new year, three weeks after Bernard Kerik's nomination had fallen apart, Thompson traveled to the Oval Office for one final chat as a cabinet member. Thompson grew tearful, saying he'd always be there for Bush, and hinted one more time that he would jump at the chance to stay on. But Bush stuck to his plan, and said goodbye. "There are strong emotions from the president and strong emotions from the people who are leaving," says White House chief of staff Andrew Card. "But he's looking for a new term and changes. Agents of change frequently are new people."
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Another popular misperception: that Bush doesn't read. Aides describe numerous debates inside the Oval Office, where the president digs deep into his briefing books. "I've seen it time and time again," says Rove. "We all get the briefing papers the night before, we've all read them, and he'll inevitably have thought about three steps ahead of anyone in the room." And he's not just poring over white papers. Friends and aides speak of his passion for novels, including Mark Mills's "Amagansett" (a murder mystery set in postwar Long Island), and Tom Wolfe's racy college tale "I Am Charlotte Simmons." Bush has also adopted Natan Sharansky's "The Case for Democracy" as his own manifesto in the Middle East—a tome he recommends to all comers in the Oval Office.
Aha!
Judging from the press coverage of his new cabinet, you'd think Bush's guiding principle was to put yes men in positions of power. But Bush draws a sharp line between people who can get things done, and those who simply agree with anything he says. His style in policy briefings is to narrow the debate with a series of questions, crystallizing the competing opinions and exploring the disagreements between his staff. Those debates also require a rare quality in Washington—the self-discipline of his staff to keep their disputes behind closed doors. With the notable exception of his foreign-policy team, Bush has succeeded in staunching the leaks that plagued his predecessors—leaving the impression that there are no arguments within the White House walls. "People seem to be fascinated by this administration in that people don't walk out the door after losing an argument and complain about it," says Nick Calio, Bush's former congressional liaison. "Just because nobody complains publicly about losing an argument doesn't mean they haven't disagreed with him." (That discipline will be harder to maintain as Bush steams toward lame-duck status.)
To hear his friends tell it, Bush hates toadies, and loves to mock sycophantic remarks with his trademark reply: "My, Mr. President, that's a nice-looking tie you're wearing today." "If anyone is too much of a suck-up, the president is the first one to call them on it," says Card. "That's not a label you want to have in a meeting, because then he discounts everything you're saying." Flying back to Washington after his second TV debate against John Kerry, Bush asked his strategist Matt Dowd for an honest assessment of the first showdown. "It wasn't your finest hour," said Dowd. "What do you mean?" Bush shot back. "You got your a-- kicked," Dowd explained. Bush frog-marched his aide through Air Force One, repeating Dowd's assessment. "He said I got my a-- kicked," Bush told his staff. "And you all said I won."
Don't tell them you have a brain! They're supposed to misunderestimate you!
There's more, including hints that Rumsfeld may be asked to resign in the future. |
Possibly the dumbest Republican to hold a cabinet position in contemporary times is running for President.