Much has been made of Bush’s pronouncement of a “new world order” in those early days. It was not a sudden inspiration. Long before the invasion of Kuwait, national-security adviser Brent Scowcroft coined the term while talking to his boss about future foreign-policy crises. Bush and Scowcroft anticipated that even after the cold war, the United States would have to swat down Third World bullies. They understood as well that anything short of a rout would diminish America’s superpower status. “In cases where the U.S. confronts much weaker enemies, our challenge will be not simply to defeat them, but to defeat them decisively and rapidly,” Scowcroft wrote to a receptive Bush.
Standing up to the bully. It was a simple idea rooted in Bush’s past. As a child the president had been taught to play far, to protect the weak against the strong. He chose to postpone a college degree because he believed that fighting against Hitler and the Japanese empire would enable him to stand up for good against evil. Like many of his World War II generation, he mourned the national malaise left by Vietnam, and he longed for a chance to exorcise it. Two weeks after Iraqi forces invaded Kuwait, the commander in chief presented the challenge to the United States in black and white terms. He intended, he said, “to stand up for what’s right and condemn what’s wrong.”
Bush had another motivation to stand fast: he saw the chance to drive a stake through the “wimp factor,” the perception that he wasn’t strong enough or tough enough for the Oval Office. To that end, he took care to avoid the mistakes of his predecessors. Unlike LBJ, Bush left the day-to-day war planning to his generals. After he set the broad ground rules for the war–no nuclear or chemical weapons, casualties to be held to a minimum–he accepted virtually all of the recommendations of his military men. He had a vivid memory of Jimmy Carter’s paralysis during the Iranian hostage crisis and refused to be tied to either the White House or the war. Insisting that “life goes on,” he continued his peripatetic travel schedule for much of the crisis. Mindful of Ronald Reagan’s fall from grace in the Iran-contra scandal, Bush refused to allow any secret negotiations to end the crisis. Any deal would be cut in public. He would not give Saddam a face-saving way out.
Bush did make one mistake in the early going: He bungled the propaganda war. Fearful the public would not understand the gauzy notions like “collective security,” he often gave pat, simplistic answers to the constant questions about why he had decided to send young soldiers to a desert so far away. He personalized the crisis and threatened to “kick ass” if Saddam didn’t withdraw. Inwardly secure in his mission, Bush was clearly uncomfortable in the bully pulpit. He had never been an effective orator, and he had grown wary of the camera.
He was finally braced by necessity. Increased carping from Congress, weakening public support and a few not-so-subtle hints from his friends convinced Bush that he had to do better. At the critical moment, as the decision to fight loomed, he seemed to settle and steady, and to sound again like the Bush of August: committed, clear, unwavering. In the final days of the war, when Saddam all but begged to be allowed to withdraw, Bush refused to let up. Peace would come, but only on his terms.
It would be misleading, of course, to say Bush never knew doubt or fear. His moods swung from resoluteness to testiness to calm again. It took him months to come to grips with the idea that he would have to send young American men and women into combat. At one particularly tense moment last summer, when it appeared that war might erupt before the United States was ready, Bush phoned former British prime minister Margaret Thatcher for advice. Bush told her that he was inclined to let an Iraqi tanker slip through the naval blockade, in order to avoid a premature confrontation. Britain’s Iron Lady provided just the boost Bush needed. “Remember, George,” she cautioned, “this is no time to go wobbly.”
It took some time for Bush to convince the rest of the world of that. But as the crisis dragged on and deepened, the American people sensed that the president had thought through the risks of war. When the time came for the president to lead the nation into battle, the people were ready to follow.
It is doubtful that Bush will not translate his immense popularity into a crusade to cure America’s domestic ills. The problems are not susceptible to a Norman Schwarzkopf flanking maneuver. Bush is neither an ideologue nor a visionary. But his stand in the Persian Gulf shows that he is no lap dog either.
