Perspective

Bush, scholars and philosophers

By PETER BAKER Washington Post
Published July 8, 2007

At the nadir of his presidency, George W. Bush is looking for answers. One at a time or in small groups, he summons leading authors, historians, philosophers and theologians to the White House to join him in the search. Over sodas and sparkling water, he asks his questions: What is the nature of good and evil in the post-Sept. 11 world? What lessons does history have for a president facing the turmoil I'm facing? How will history judge what we've done? Why does the rest of the world seem to hate America? Or is it just me they hate? These are the questions of a president who has endured the most drastic political collapse in a generation. Not generally known for being intellectually curious, Bush is seeking out those who are, embarking on an exploration of the currents of history that have swept up his administration. For all the setbacks, he remains unflinching, rarely expressing doubt in his direction yet trying to understand how he got off course.

These sessions, usually held in elegant living areas of the executive mansion, are never listed on the president's public schedule and remain unknown even to many on his staff. To some of those invited to talk, Bush seems alone, isolated by events beyond his control, with trusted advisers leaving and friends turning on him.

"You think about prime ministers and presidents being surrounded by Cabinet officials and aides and so forth, " said Alistair Horne, a British historian who met with Bush recently. "But at the end of the day, they're alone. They're lonely. And that's what occurred to me as I was at the White House. It must be quite difficult for him to get out and about."

Friends worry about that as well. Burdened by an unrelenting war, challenged by an opposition Congress, defeated just late last month on immigration, his last major domestic priority, Bush remains largely locked inside the fortress of 1600 Pennsylvania Ave. in the seventh year of a presidency turned sour.

"I don't know how he copes with it, " said Donald Burnham Ensenat, a friend for 43 years who just stepped down as State Department protocol officer. Rep. K. Michael Conaway, a Texas Republican who's another longtime friend who once worked for Bush, said he looks worn down. "It's a marked difference in his physical appearance, " Conaway said. "It's an incredibly heavy load. When you ask men and women to take risks, to send them into war knowing they might not come home, that's got to be an incredible burden to have on your shoulders."

Bush is fixated on Iraq, according to friends and advisers. One former aide went to see him recently to discuss various matters, only to find Bush turning the conversation back to Iraq again and again. He recognizes that his presidency hinges on whether Iraq can be turned around in 18 months.

And yet Bush does not come across like a man lamenting his plight. In public and in private, according to intimates, he exhibits an inexorable upbeat energy that defies the political storms. Even when he convenes philosophical discussions with scholars, he avoids second-guessing his actions. He still acts as if he were master of the universe, even if the rest of Washington no longer sees him that way.

"You don't get any feeling of somebody crouching down in the bunker, " said Irwin Stelzer, a fellow at the Hudson Institute who was part of one group of scholars who met with Bush. "This is either extraordinary self-confidence or out of touch with reality. I can't tell you which."

Parade of setbacks

The reality has been daunting. No modern president has experienced such a sustained rejection by the American public. Bush's approval rating slipped below 50 percent in Washington Post-ABC News polls in January 2005 and has not topped that level in the 30 months since. The last president mired under 50 percent so long was Harry Truman. Even Richard Nixon did not fall below 50 percent until April 1973, 16 months before he resigned.

The polls reflect the events of Bush's second term, an unyielding sequence of bad news. Social Security. Hurricane Katrina. Harriet Miers. Dubai Ports World. Vice President Dick Cheney's hunting accident. Jack Abramoff, Tom DeLay and Mark Foley. The midterm elections. I. Lewis "Scooter" Libby, whose sentence Bush commuted last week. Alberto Gonzales and Paul Wolfowitz. Immigration. And overshadowing it all, the Iraq war, now longer than the U.S. fight in World War II.

Since winning re-election 2 1/2 years ago, Bush has had few days of good news, and what few he has had rarely lasted. Other presidents have been crushed by the pressure. Lyndon Johnson was tormented by Vietnam War protesters outside his window shouting, "Hey, hey, LBJ, how many kids did you kill today?" Nixon swam in self-pity during Watergate, talking to paintings and once asking Henry Kissinger to pray with him. Bill Clinton fumed against enemies and nursed many grievances during his impeachment battle.

But if Bush vents like that, no one is talking. He has virtually given up on winning converts while in office and instead is counting on vindication after he is dead. "He almost has ... a sense of fatalism, " said Rep. Peter King, a New York Republican who recently spent a day traveling with Bush. "All he can do is do his best, and 100 years from now people will decide if he was right or wrong. It doesn't seem to be a false, macho pride or living in your own world. I find him to be amazingly calm."

Reproached by his own

The fabled loyalty of the Bush team, though, has frayed far more than might be apparent to him. The fight over whether Gonzales should remain attorney general has exposed a fault line. Bush remains convinced that his old friend did nothing wrong ethically in firing U.S. attorneys. Yet beyond the inner circle, it is hard to find a current or former administration official who thinks Gonzales should stay.

Beyond Gonzales, the grievance against the Bush presidency is broader and deeper among Republican lawmakers, some seething with anger. "Our members just wish this thing would be over, " said a senior House Republican who met with Bush recently. "People are tired of him."

A group of moderate House Republicans bluntly told Bush during a recent White House meeting that he had become a drag on the party. And when the president invited conservative radio host Laura Ingraham for a bike ride last month, she upbraided him for his position on immigration.

Seeking history's lessons

Amid the tumult, the president has sought refuge in history. He read three books last year on George Washington, read about the Algerian war of independence and the slave trade in Congo, and lately has been digging into Troublesome Young Men, Lynne Olson's account of Conservative backbenchers who thrust Winston Churchill to power. Bush idolizes Churchill and keeps a bust of him in the Oval Office.

After reading Andrew Roberts' A History of the English-Speaking Peoples Since 1900, Bush brought in the author and a dozen scholars to talk about the lessons. "What can I learn from history?" Bush asked Roberts, according to Stelzer, the Hudson Institute scholar, who participated.

Stelzer said Bush seemed smarter than he expected. The conversation ranged from history to religion and touched on sensitive topics for a president wrestling with his legacy. "He asked me, 'Do you think our unpopularity abroad is a result of my personality?' And he laughed, " Stelzer recalled. "I said, 'In part.' And he laughed again."

Much of the discussion focused on the nature of good and evil, a perennial theme for Bush, who casts the struggle against Islamic extremists in black-and-white terms. Michael Novak, a theologian who participated, said it was clear Bush weathers his difficulties because he sees himself as doing the Lord's work.

"His faith is very strong, " said Novak, a scholar at the American Enterprise Institute. "Faith is not enough by itself because there are a lot of people who have faith but weak hearts. But his faith is very strong. He seeks guidance, like every other president does, in prayer. And that means trying to be sure he's doing the right thing. And if you've got that set, all the criticism, it doesn't faze you very much. You're answering to God."

Horne, the British historian, found himself with Bush on another occasion after Kissinger gave the president A Savage War of Peace, Horne's book on the French defeat in Algeria in the mid 20th century. Bush invited Horne to visit. They talked about parallels and differences between Algeria and Iraq as Bush sought insight he could apply to his own situation.

Loyalists lost

As Bush heads toward the twilight of his presidency, the White House feels increasingly empty. One after another, aides who have stuck with him are heading out the door. Andrew Card, chief of staff for five years, stepped down last year. And now counselor Dan Bartlett, an aide for 14 years, is leaving. Card and Bartlett were the aides who spent the most time at Bush's side.

Bush can seem disengaged. When he visited a Harlem school and promoted his education program, he brought along New York congressmen on Air Force One, including Democrat Charles Rangel, chairman of the Ways and Means Committee. The White House was in tough negotiations with Rangel over trade pacts. But Bush did not try to cut a deal, chatting instead about baseball. "He talked a lot about the Rangers, " Rangel said. "I didn't know what the hell he was talking about."

On that trip King, the GOP congressman, introduced him backstage to a soldier injured in one eye. Bush teared up and asked the young man to take off dark glasses to see the wound, King recalled. "Human instinct is when someone has a serious injury to look the other way, " King said. "He actually asked him to take them off. He actually touched the eye a little. It was almost as if he felt he had to confront it."

As they headed back to Washington a few hours later, with the televisions aboard Air Force One tuned to the New York Mets game, King mused that Bush must be feeling the weight of his office.

"My wife loves you, but she doesn't know how you don't wake up every morning and say, 'I've had it. I'm out of here, ' " King told him.

"She thinks that?" Bush replied. "Get her on the phone."

King dialed but got voice mail. Bush left a message: "I'm doing okay. Don't worry about me."

[Last modified July 7, 2007, 21:33:30]