Great Expectations
The challenge ahead for George W. Bush.

By Dennis Coyle, associate professor of politics, the Catholic University of America.
September 27, 2001 2:15 p.m.

olly Ivins encapsulated much popular unease with George W. Bush in the humorously demeaning title of her book, Shrub. Even to many supporters, George W. seemed small, not just in size but in character and intellect as well. Opponents parodied his less-than-perfect articulation of the English language; even many supporters were lukewarm, seeing Bush as acceptable — and surely preferable to the Democrats — but utterly unremarkable. After eight years of the glib and egregiously self-promoting Bill Clinton, Washington was settling in for a rather dull time over the next four years: sensible shoes, and moderation in all things. When terror stabbed at the heart of New York and Washington, many waited with apprehension to see how the president would react. The drama of the moment seemed made for the eloquence and forcefulness of a Franklin Roosevelt or a Ronald Reagan, not the comfortable mediocrity of a George W. Bush.

Our country has been fortunate in having eloquence and character at the helm when it was essential. The classic examples are almost cliches: Washington in the Revolution and at the beginning of the new government, Lincoln during the Civil War. FDR may have been a less-than-perfect role model, and arguably misguided in many of his policies, but he knew how to lead when it mattered: We can never truly know how much our nation's perseverance and ultimate victory in World War II may be attributed to his persistence and eloquence in the early days of our involvement — and in the months before, when he worked to keep Britain afloat. Reagan inherited more a malaise than a full-blown crisis, but rose beyond the occasion, helping to reinvigorate the nation domestically and accelerate the collapse of the Iron Curtain and eventually the Soviet Union. Critics may dispute his policies or point out his detachment from the workings of government, but like FDR before him, Reagan understood that leadership is as much theater as substance — but theater undergirded by character.

We may have been fortunate that Bill Clinton was never seriously tested. He was an able thespian of the presidential pulpit, but character was his Achilles heel, and we'll never know whether a baptism by fire would have tempered or consumed him. He could have personalized the conflict and exaggerated his capabilities, but on the other hand, a true crisis might have been a sobering and maturing experience.

Any leader from the baby-boom generation must harbor self-doubts. Ours is a generation that lives uneasily in the shadows of its parents. It may be affluent by historical standards, creative in its transformation of social and cultural life, and untiring in its self-celebration — but it had no defining moment that forged its moral character. Our experience has been the ambivalent quagmire of Vietnam and stagflation, not the emphatic darkness and light of the Great Depression and World War II. The response to the terrorism of September 11 will test a generation, not just a leader.

But what of that leader? A child of privilege who might charitably be described as a "late bloomer," Bush appears to be becoming presidential of necessity. One Bush quality evident in recent days is that he can adapt and learn. Bush may be unexceptional in intellect, knowledge, and language, but he knows it. Unlike Clinton, whose considerable skills were outmatched by his ego — leading to a sense of invincibility and errors of judgment — Bush is one "shrub" who seems to have no illusions about the size of his shadow. Rather than deny his unexceptional attributes, he compensates for them by simplifying his mission, delegating well, and being willing to listen to and learn from others. The latter quality served him well as governor and may help make him an effective coalition leader today.

Bush's growth is most evident in his rhetorical presence. Many Americans may be relieved to have him at the helm given his record as a competent manager of business and of state government. But extraordinary times call for something more. Bush may be steady, but would he be inspiring? It may be unfair to have expected more of anyone, given the shock and horror of the attacks, but Bush's initial reactions on September 11 and immediately following seemed tentative, faltering, and insufficient, doing little to fill the yawning chasm in America's psyche. His message was unexceptional and his delivery pedestrian, monotonic, at times mangled, and overrun with short, repetitive sentences. Of course, there is virtue in that — he avoided hysteria or inflammatory remarks; there was no sense of panic in his voice. But over the past two weeks, we have seen a remarkable and welcome transformation. His speech has grown more confident and lyrical, his actions more public and sure. On an important and highly visible occasion, the prayer service at National Cathedral, Bush's remarks were moving and appropriate, and he held his own amid the eloquence of Billy Graham and so many other speakers. And then there was his appearance at the Islamic mosque, sending an important message of tolerance and respect. But what may be the defining moment of his presidency, and of this crisis, was his speech to the nation on September 20.

I can think of no moment at which reassuring words from the president were more highly awaited since FDR addressed the Congress and the nation after Pearl Harbor. Bush rose to this most critical of occasions with a virtuoso performance that was stirring and forceful, striking a delicate balance between emotion and reason, compassion and defiance. Of course, he has skilled staff and advisers to lean on, and the credit for his performance is not his alone. But it was he alone who had to stand under the heat of the lights, the glare of the media and the public, and pull it off. Not one word was mangled, and the expression in his eyes and his voice conveyed sincerity and determination. In one critical act he erased many doubts about his leadership and about American resolve. This was the polar opposite of Carter's malaise speech; but it was not just feel-good jingoism, it was sober and thoughtful.

If, in hindsight, Bush is ever viewed as a great leader, it will be because he was made such, not born. He is rising to the occasion more than many skeptics would have expected. Of course, greatness is not always natural or evident from the beginning. Even Washington was less than stellar in the French and Indian War, but he learned and matured.

There is one aspect of Bush's ascendancy that is troubling. In his growing firmness and vision he is conveying a fortitude that is essential in critical times — but the path must be well chosen. Think of Lincoln in the Civil War, asserting the inviolability of the Union and in time the necessity of emancipation, and in Grant finding a means to express his unrelenting determination on the battlefield. In a way Lincoln could be blamed for the extraordinary human toll of the Civil War and the devastation of the South, and he lost his life to the bitterness. But most historians and lay people see Lincoln as great because the cause was large, great, and ultimately successful.

But what is our large and great cause today? The elimination of terrorism?

This too may be attainable, and in victory we may look back with scorn on the doubting Thomases of today. But I worry that, in seeking a way to express the mission that is simple, unifying, and inspiring, Bush may be committing our government and our people to an impossible dream — which could never be satisfied by the small successes of limited engagements and covert activity — and feeding an excessive sense of crisis in the economy. It will be in the months and years ahead, when the black-and-white of good and evil, and of victory and defeat, becomes a gray fog, that his leadership will most be tested. If his performance of the past two weeks is any indication, he may surprise us once again. This shrub is hardy stock.