Rule By the Ridiculous
by
Jeffrey A. Tucker
David
Frum did not intend to write a send-up of the state. His goal was
not to demystify the White House. But that is the effect of his
chatty little book, The
Right Man: The Surprise Presidency of George W. Bush (NY:
Random House, 2002).
It
has very little substance, and no content of grave historical import.
It mainly consists of goofy stories concerning what words Bush ought
to use and how, what headlines are consuming the White House staff
on a particular day, what issues were discussed before a certain
press conference, etc. Petty stuff, mostly. To turn all this into
a book underscores just how resourceful Frum is as a writer, and
just how ridiculous the presidency (the patina on the state apparatus)
really is.
You
get the sense of what I mean from Frum's description of his new
office.
The
first time I sat on the sofa, I detonated a mushroom cloud of
dust and insect fragments that hovered about my head for a quarter
of a minute. The rest of the place as not much more hygienic:
The phones were greasy to the touch, the carpet was spotted with
dried chewing gum, and the surface of my desk was sticky with
ancient coffee and soda spills. My wife was so horrified by her
first visit to the place that she arrived the following weekend
with disinfectant, vacuum cleaner, and scouring pads.
Frum
blames Clinton for the mess (wait, the spills are "ancient"!). In
fact, the filth is predictable. Take any public building (un-owned
and un-saleable) and assign new management every four years and
see what happens. It will be a mess, just as every older government
building in Washington is a dump.
Now
imagine putting the people who can't be bothered to wipe up a coffee
spill – and have no reason to do so or care either way, only the
incentive to use up what they can before their time is over – in
charge of the whole country. What Frum doesn't realize is that it
is not just his office or this building that is overutilized, unkempt,
and vandalized. This is a metaphor for how the government treats
the entire country.
What
can we say about these interlopers, these temporary rulers of the
world empire? What clowns these people are, funny but also gravely
menacing because they take themselves and their role in history
seriously.
They
are not serious enough to put much thought into the effects of their
actions on the country, on liberty, on the world, or much of anything
else. Not a word in this book indicates that the White House has
any sense of the moral and practical responsibilities associated
with heading the world's biggest state. But they are serious enough
to believe that they have somehow been blessed by the god democracy
to make big, important decisions. Paul O'Neil, who was just fired
as Treasury secretary, is right that it is all about "deluding the
people" into believing something that is not true.
In
his first meeting with Bush, soon after the inauguration, Frum reports
that the president had only one firm policy item backed by real
conviction: "his determination to dig Saddam Hussein out of power
in Iraq." This was six months before 9-11, and two years before
weapons inspections. Why should anyone take seriously the idea that
Bush is waiting for Iraq to comply with anything? Though Iraq was
not discussed much during the campaign, the secret plan for vengeance
was always there.
Frum
was hired as an economic speech writer, and out by the time it became
clear that no one in the White House thinks that economics matters
much. Of course, we've all noted the return of Keynesianism under
Bush (did it ever go away?), as when he told an audience in Billings,
Montana: "We want you to have more cash flow so you can expand your
business when this economy is slowing down."
Well,
Frum does not believe in demand-side theory; he just sees this as
part of the necessary rhetorical apparatus. "As the nominal author
of remarks like these, I would receive anguished telephone calls
afterward from free-market theorists. 'He's spouting gibberish!'
they would complain. 'You have to make him stop.' 'I have a better
idea,' I'd reply. 'You make him stop.'"
Can
you imagine? Centuries of writings on economic science! Hundreds
of journals currently in publication! Thousands and thousands of
students and professors studying economics in graduate school! And
in the end, when it comes to actually making economic policy, it's
all reduced to a flimflam man trying to create words that a guy
like Bush can repeat with conviction. If you raise an objection,
prepare to be dismissed.
There
is more insight here concerning Bush's economics. We find out that
Bush is against saving consumers money on gasoline, and, indirectly,
that he has no plan to use the Iraqi oil fields to lower gas prices:
I
once made the mistake of suggesting to Bush that he use the phrase
cheap energy to describe the aims of his energy policy. He gave
me a sharp, squinting look, as if he were trying to decide whether
I was the very stupidest person he had heard from all day or only
one of the top five. Cheap energy, he answered, was how we got
into this mess. Every year from the 1970s until the mid-1990s,
American cars burned less and less per mile traveled. Then in
about 1995 that progress stopped. Why? He answered his own question:
Because of the gas-guzzling SUV. And what had made the SUV craze
possible? This time I answered. "Umm, cheap energy?" He nodded
at me. Dismissed.

There
is a nugget of information that may prove to be the fatal decision
of the Bush administration. "Early in January [2002], the president
summoned his writers into the Oval Office for a preview of the coming
year. His message boiled downed to this: We're finished on the home
front until November, boys…. The domestic agenda was the same as
the foreign agenda: Win the war – then we'll see." A year later,
the recession is still on, Osama is still loose, and Bush's ratings
are falling.
Remember
the famous "Axis of Evil" phrase? It was originally "Axis of Hatred,"
and it was written by Frum. Why? Frum writes: "Bush decided that
the United States was no longer a status-quo power in the Middle
East. He wanted to see plans for overthrowing Saddam, and he wanted
a speech that explained to the world why Iraq's dictator must go.
And from that presidential decision, bump, bump, bump down the hierarchy….to
me."
Again,
what can this mean? Bush knew he wanted to get rid of Saddam but
didn't know why? He hires people like Frum to drum up some, any,
rationale? Talk about pulling back the curtain!
There's
an interesting account of 9-11, how all White House staffers, there
to protect the nation from its enemies, were running for their lives,
clamoring for news, desperate to find a television set with CNN
on, so they could find out what was happening.
The
really chilling aspect of this book concerns the extent to which
rhetoric as devised by speechwriters ends up determining policy.
"We will make no distinction between the terrorists who committed
these acts and those who harbor them." Nice phrase, a product of
the speechwriters' office. Once uttered, it becomes the great excuse
for the Garrison State.
In
Frum's account, Bush has no core, no real understanding; he seems
to wake up with a hankering for something and then order everyone
to fall into line. Bush's nescience is matched only by his edgy
arrogance, constantly on display. Page after page reports this kind
of thing: an insular White House run by an "impatient," "dogmatic,"
"uncurious," and "ill-informed" president who believes he has been
appointed by divine providence; a staff fixated mainly on what the
mainstream media is saying day to day; advisers who specialize in
election hokum and the art of propaganda; a widespread lack of clarity
concerning what the administration believes on any issue; and a
complete lack of concern about much of anything or anyone outside
their immediate orbit.
Not
that it really matters in the end. The state continues to burn through
$2 trillion in private wealth every year, doing untold amounts of
damage, and it will do so regardless of what the Bush administration
believes or does.
Frum
seems unaware of what a damning picture he is painting. You half
expect him to report that Bush looked out the window one day and
said, what are all those buildings and things out there? Are they
part of the executive branch or the legislative branch? Can I tell
the people in them what you do? Yes? Well, then, tell them to help
with the War!!
How
does the book contribute to understanding the state? As I read,
I developed a picture in my mind of the state as a huge locomotive
that forges ahead on auto-drive. At some point, Bush and his staff
have the chance to sit in the front car of the train and pretend
to be the drivers and affect various poses and rationales for why
the train is moving and where it is going. They are given a pot
of cash to toss out the window as they see fit, and some guns to
shoot people from the windows. They are also given a press corps
to write up their every move. They are generally happier to be perceived
as driving the thing rather than actually driving it, and they are
glad to use whatever is at their disposal to make their turn in
the cabin really meaningful, even historic.
Frum
didn't set out to make the government look ridiculous. But by giving
us a peek into the workings of the inner sanctum, that is what he
has done. Meanwhile, the next inhabitant of his former office will
find a bigger mess than the one he found, and leave it, and the
country, even more of a dump.
January
17, 2003
Jeffrey
Tucker [send him mail]
is vice president of the Mises Institute.
Copyright
© 2003 LewRockwell.com
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