An Uncertain Reputation

If you watched the service at the National Cathedral for the late Senator John McCain you no doubt saw former President George W. Bush sneaking candy to Michele Obama under the bemused glance of Laura Bush. It was a touching moment and typical of the relationship that seems to have developed between the former president and former first lady. Barack Obama, Mr. Cool, remained aloof, uninvolved in that moment.

A columnist (whose extreme pseudonym I can’t remember) recently wrote that we are in danger of making George W. a treasured national figure, a sort of charming grandfather possibly in the way that Jimmy Carter is considered. We must never, the writer warned, dismiss the atrocities of Bush’s presidency. Of the Michelle/George W. relationship, he wrote that the Obamas were forced into encounters with the Bushes and are skilled at putting the best spin on things. Hogwash! The Obamas are definitely skilled at polite but distant encounters and that is not one—there is genuine affection between those two.

That affection is one of the things that gives me pause. I too have noted the growing public affection for Mr. Bush and tried to put it in perspective. I was a strong critic of the Bush presidency, and I struggle to reconcile today’s man with the one responsible for the hasty invasion of the wrong country after 9/11, the false claims of weapons of mass destruction, the sanction of torture, the terrible loss of life on both sides of the Iraq War, the disaster of Katrina—wasn’t there a tax cut for the wealthy in there too? How can such a man become a national treasure? (There looms in my mind the unanswered question of how much he originated and how much Dick Cheney was responsible for—wish someone would write that book if they haven’t already.)

For starters, there’s George’s relationship with Michelle, which has done much to humanize him. Then, he’s done what former presidents probably should do—stayed under the radar, content with his paining and, presumably, his granddaughters. When he does emerge into the spotlight, he does so as a wise elder statesman, speaking the words of wisdom and patriotism we all long to hear these days.

Is that enough? For me, his transformation, if that is what it is, poses the old question of how much influence the media has on us. When Bush was president, he represented power, he was at the top of his game, he was a fair target and the media delighted in exposing his worse moments (“Good job, Brownie”); now that he’s settled into a senior statesman role, there’s not so much to write about or criticize

Frankly during his presidency, I wouldn’t have given you a fig for the reputation of any of the Bushes. Papa George was sort of ineffectual, wasn’t he? And he used to make those glaring gaffs in speeches—I remember laughing hysterically at an after-dinner speaker who carved a whole talk out of “Bushisms.” And Barbara—she wasn’t really the sweet grandmother she seemed, was she? In reality, she was harsh and demanding, wasn’t she?.

But by the time of Barbara Bush’s funeral, the entire family had become a national treasure. I wonder now if, out of power, the family quietly went about doing their thing. Maybe we’re the ones who changed, whose attitudes changed. And did the media lead us by the nose? The Bushes in tragedy—the death of Barbara—were once again good copy.

As you can tell, I haven’t sorted out my thoughts on this. I met George W. once, for two seconds, when he was governor of Texas. There was a reception for authors at the Governor’s Mansion, in connection with the annual Book Festival. Laura, crisply efficient in a pantsuit, greeted arrivals. She and I were chatting about a book I was doing on extraordinary women of Texas when her husband walked up. She introduced him, and he shook hands and ducked his head like a shy schoolboy. He looked as though he’d just pulled a wrinkled shirt out of the dryer.

I liked that George W. Bush, and I like the one I see with Michelle today. I’m not sure I can forget—and I know I can never forgive—the George W. who was president. It’s a conundrum.