Decision Point

Any political memoir tends to be defined by two salient qualities – self-justification, and self-exculpation. And in the case of George Bush there would appear to be a particularly pressing need for both. Bush left office two years ago with the dubious distinction of being second only to the disgraced Richard Nixon as the most unpopular American president of modern times. On the day after he left office, he writes, he started this book. With reference to his title, Bush explains that he has followed the example of an earlier president, Ulysses Grant, not to write an exhaustive account of his life, but to concentrate instead on his period in the White House, and what he – rightly – describes as the most important part of the president’s job: decision making. But tellingly, he begins the book somewhat earlier, with what he clearly considers to be the most important decision of his life: at the age of 40, following a life characterised by much chugging of bourbon and beer, and a conviction for driving under the influence, he decided to give up alcohol. Related Articles George W Bush memoir: 9/11, Cheney, Blair and Buckingham Palace12 Nov 2010 George W Bush ordered Pentagon to plan Iran attack12 Nov 2010 George W Bush breaks silence with memoir media blitz12 Nov 2010 Vladimir Putin 'bragged to George Bush about his dog'12 Nov 2010 It's July Fourth and Americans are in the mood to celebrate12 Nov 2010 When will Barack Obama stop fudging it?12 Nov 2010 Quitting drinking was one of the toughest decisions I have ever made. Without it, none of the others that follow in this book would have been possible. Bush is no intellectual. Nor is he much given to bouts of self-reflection. The impression he strives to give of his presidency is of a resolute hand on the tiller of the good ship Manifest Destiny, driven by an unwavering belief in what he calls “the freedom agenda” that he says determined his presidency, a deep religious faith, and a soupçon of Texan good ’ole boy machismo. “My blood was boiling,” he writes, describing his reaction to the attacks on the World Trade Centre in 2001. “We were going to find out who did this and kick their ass.” In other words, he did it his way. Mistakes – and he’s made a few – are acknowledged almost in passing. On his handling of Hurricane Katrina, he admits that “I should have recognised the deficiencies sooner and intervened faster”. Writing of the chaos that enveloped Iraq following the invasion, he expresses regret that “we did not respond more quickly or aggressively when the security situation started to deteriorate after Saddam’s regime fell”. Bush is no great literary stylist. The writing seldom rises above the workmanlike. Some of the language is distinctly odd. At one point he describes al-Qaeda as an organisation with “a penchant for high-profile attacks” – in the same way, perhaps, as Ted Bundy had “a penchant” for serial killing. And his pen portraits of key figures in his administration and on the world stage are stultifyingly bland and obstinately unrevealing. Colin Powell is “good-natured and friendly”. “Don” Rumsfeld (the diminutive is strangely disconcerting) is “knowledgeable, articulate and confident”. The Dalai Lama – who’d have guessed it? – is “a charming, peaceful man”; the Queen “a gracious, charming woman with a keen sense of humour”. While her corgis are, apparently, “friendly and polite”. Bush has a particular liking – one might say a penchant – for dog stories. He recalls an occasion when Vladimir Putin visited Camp David, and Bush introduced him to his Scottish terrier, Barney: “He wasn’t very impressed.” On Bush’s next visit to Russia, Putin reciprocated by introducing Bush to his black labrador. “With a twinkle in his eye, Vladimir said, ‘Bigger, stronger and faster than Barney.’ I later told the story to my friend, Prime Minister Stephen Harper of Canada,” Bush goes on. “‘You’re lucky he only showed you his dog,’ he replied.” The most gripping moments in this book deal with the events of 9/11. Bush recalls the moment when, reading to a classroom of schoolchildren in Florida, an aide whispered in his ear that the second plane had hit the World Trade Centre. “My first reaction was outrage,” he writes. And yet he continued to read for another six minutes. Bush characterises this as a moment of resolve. “I looked at the faces of the children in front of me. I thought about the contrast between the brutality of the attackers and the innocence of the children. If I stormed out hastily, it would scare the children and send ripples of panic throughout the country.” Really? More telling perhaps is the admission that he was taking his cue from his press secretary Ari Fleischer holding up a sign that read, “Don’t say anything yet.” Such moments of self-revelation – inadvertent or otherwise – are rare, but fascinating. He writes that one of the questions he always liked to ask fellow world leaders was: “What keeps you up at night?” He confided to the Chinese premier Hu Jintao that he stayed awake worrying about another terrorist attack on America. Hu Jintao “quickly replied that his biggest concern was creating 25 million jobs a year”. At the funeral in Rome of Pope John Paul II (“one of the great figures in modern history”) he is surprised to find himself praying for Peter Jennings, the ABC news anchor, who was dying of cancer. It is at moments like this that Bush becomes something one would never have suspected of him – likeable. The insults, the opprobrium, the questions about his intelligence, and the mockery over his malapropisms and phrase-mangling (“I’m telling you there’s an enemy that would like to attack America, Americans, again,” he famously remarked in 2009. “There just is. That’s the reality of the world. And I wish him all the very best”) – all were clearly deeply wounding to him. Being accused of being “racist” in the aftermath of Hurricane Katrina was, he writes “the worst moment of my presidency” – a symptom, he suggests, of “the death spiral of decency” which has fostered a “toxic atmosphere” in American politics. What he fails to acknowledge is that that “toxic atmosphere” actually took root in his administration. Indeed, what is conspicuously absent from this book is any acknowledgement, or even honest appraisal, of the larger failings of his presidency; the fact that on the morning after 9/11 America had the support, sympathy and goodwill of most of the world, which in a matter of a year or two he had thoroughly squandered; the disastrous economic policies that led to America’s escalating debt and the worst financial crisis since the Great Depression. Pondering his legacy, Bush writes of his hope that he will come to be viewed as a president who recognised “the central challenge of our time”, and kept his vow to keep America safe, and who used his nation’s influence “to advance freedom”. But whatever the ultimate verdict on his presidency, he adds: “I’m comfortable with the fact that I won’t be around to hear it.” An acknowledgement, perhaps, of the fact that in the short-term, the verdict will not be kind. He ends this book on a moment of sheer bathos; retired from office, and walking the faithful Barney, he finds himself obliged to clean up Barney’s business from a neighbour’s lawn with a plastic bag, “picking up that which I had been dodging for the past eight years”. The work of a matter of seconds, one assumes. It will take somewhat longer to clean up the mess that George Bush left behind. Decision Points by George Bush 

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