W.,
the Man and the Office
by
Anthony Gregory
by Anthony Gregory
DIGG THIS
It is notoriously
easy for Americans to approach presidential politics as a question
of personality. The obsession with the man rather than the office
itself or even the man’s particular policies is ubiquitous. Many
of Bush’s detractors hated him from the beginning. Same with Clinton
and most that came before. The trend will continue under the next
president.
Oliver Stone
has been accused of presenting distorted and agenda-driven portrayals
of his political subjects, obsessing over personal idiosyncrasies,
over-dramatizing the politics in his films to the point of obscuring
the real issues.
Many assumed
Stone’s newest film, W., about the current lame duck, would
be a biased anti-Bush treatment. In fact, the movie humanizes the
man while nevertheless passing judgment on his actions. And it raises
many important questions about the presidential office itself.
For most of
his presidency, Bush’s personality convinced millions of conservatives
to embrace him and not to question his agenda, especially in foreign
affairs. Criticisms of the administration were seen as knee-jerk
anti-Bush bias, even when those criticisms were valid and important.
The right had a hard time believing that Bush the man could be capable
of the evils of which he was accused by the left and by libertarians.
If the war he waged was "murderous," did that not make
him a murderer? He did not seem to be so villainous and deceitful
to millions of red-blooded, red-state Americans.
On the other
hand, millions of liberals saw the problem in Bush the man but not
in his general support of an unrestrained state and calamitous war.
They did not want to believe their beloved democracy, their beloved
government, was the root of the problem. The man occupying it was
a particularly wicked or incompetent person. He must be the worst
man ever to work in the Oval Office. Only that could explain political
reality.
Similarly,
in the 1990s, liberals had trouble grasping why conservatives despised
the Bill Clinton they came to love. Conservatives, in turn, became
so obsessed with him that they forgot what it was about Clinton
that was actually worth objecting to. When Bush came in and expanded
and abused his power on an even grander scale, they defended him,
despite the inconsistency in doing so.
It is valid
to look at the personalities involved in politics. Powerful politicians
are not entirely normal people, and the worst do tend to rise to
the top. They should not be assumed to be angels, or even close.
When they do something especially egregious, they should be held
accountable as any individual would in the private sector. Most
important, the fact that they are human, with all the imperfections
that plague humans and supposedly justify government in the first
place, should not be forgotten.
In W. we
see the personality of Bush on screen in a way that shows his humanity,
his susceptibility to extreme error and to the temptations and corruptions
of power, but also the good intentions that motivate him to inflict
such destruction upon the world.
There are doubtless
exaggerations, omissions and other flaws in Stone’s narrative. But
there is also charitableness toward Bush in this film that is hard
to find even in the red states these days. Far from coming off as
especially malicious, diabolical, unstable or inhuman, Bush is simply
some sap – perhaps a sap in unusual circumstances – who struggles
in the shadow of his father by pursuing, and achieving, a position
of power that he, of all people, should never possess.
In W.
we see Bush fall in love. We see his complex affections and tensions
within the family. We see him struggle with and overcome alcoholism.
We see him portrayed as a man who would just as soon be a baseball
star, but settles for trying to be remembered for a positive and
historic presidential legacy, not just for his own benefit, but
for family pride and the security and honor of his country.
The culmination
of the Bush presidency, the political climax of this film, is the
Iraq war, followed rapidly by the chaos and scandal in the year
that followed. He did not expect it to go badly. His advisers really
thought they could build democracy in Iraq and the Middle East with
far fewer dead and billions spent. The war planners, and the war,
are shown for their evil, but also for their humanity.
But even with
just about as charitable a treatment as one could give with any
plausibility, the horror of what Bush and his team unleash, and
the evil of which they are capable with their power, are shockingly
apparent in the film.
The talent
in W. is wonderful. Some actors are doing character impressions;
others are acting less histrionically; all are dramatically interesting.
Josh Brolin does the title role very well, Elizabeth Banks’s First
Lady is solid, and James Cromwell is surprisingly compelling as
Bush the Elder. The great Richard Dreyfuss does a realistic yet
almost likeable Cheney. Toby Jones’s Karl Rove character is terrific.
But Thandie Newton’s Condoleezza Rice is reason enough to see the
flick.
The narrative
weaves together lots of dialogue from public record, putting it
in places it sometimes doesn’t belong, but not to the point of distracting
the viewer much. Of course, holes are filled in with a degree of
Hollywood license. But there is a realism that becomes much more
discomforting by the end of the film than a more blatantly unforgiving
treatment would be. An uneasiness surrounds the hard reality being
imitated, precisely because Bush and his team have been humanized.
This motley
crew of bizarre characters would be funny with much less power.
As top business executives or in local government they could only
do so much damage. Long segments of the movie would be comedy if
not for the war.
In one of the
most memorable scenes, Bush’s team, suited up for the boardroom,
is following him around Camp David, discussing the impending war
with Iraq. In the middle of the field, they get lost. It’s a great
image of Bush leading his foreign policy Brain Trust astray. And
this would be hilarious, if not for the knowledge that these clowns
and tricksters are about to inflict one of the world’s greatest
modern humanitarian disasters upon the Iraqi people.
Stone makes
clear that the ruling class is people. Not just personalities, but
individuals — humans. And these people are neither the embodiment
of evil, nor particularly virtuous or incorruptible. The office
brings out the worst in the man and his minions, and makes millions
pay for it.
This is the
most important type of humanization, as it regards politicians,
for the public to comprehend. And this is a perfect time for people
to watch W. and recognize that the evil of Bush the man can
only account for so much. Otherwise, the 75% who now dislike the
man will let their guard down as the next guy takes office.
For the last
month or so, the least intelligent and most counterproductive attacks
on the Republicans have involved the type of people McCain and especially
Palin supposedly are. Certain personal attacks on Obama have been
even more ugly and ineffective.
This last week
of the campaigning, it is all about personality, and yet both candidates
promise to pursue a similar set of bad foreign and domestic policies.
Conservatives fear Obama with the power they trusted Bush to exercise
without limit. There is no excuse for this, however. No one should
ever champion the president’s use of a power that he would distrust
being captured by the other side.
I hope at least
some people see from this film that the problem is the office of
the presidency. Yes, Bush and company are an especially bad crop.
But really, there is no way to ensure a gaggle of creeps and megalomaniacs
will not rise to executive power in America. In fact, it almost
always is such a gaggle. And no matter how bad these guys are, it
would not matter if not for the power of the office.
I hope the
left-liberals who enjoyed W. see this and remember what Bush’s
gang managed to do through the presidency. They are bad guys in
so many ways, but perhaps not quite as intrinsically and irredeemably
bad as assumed. The great lesson of the tragic Bush years, as Stone
shows somewhat subtly, is that Bush being a rotten person is not
sufficient explanation for the disaster of his presidency.
The anti-Bush
partisans cannot stop reprobates and damaged souls from obtaining
power. All they can do to protect themselves from such people is
to work to limit what the presidency can do, no matter who holds
it. The next few years could be their chance, but it doesn’t look
like they’ve learned the lesson.
October
27, 2008
Anthony
Gregory [send him mail]
is a writer and musician who lives in Berkeley, California. He is
a research analyst at the Independent
Institute. See
his webpage for more
articles and personal information.
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© 2008 LewRockwell.com
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