The question was vintage George Bush. Since childhood, when his mother admonished him that self-promotion was unacceptable, Bush has been torn between his desire for recognition and his fear of appearing boastful. The plans he initially insisted on for his library and museum, to be dedicated this week at Texas A&M, were so drab that his aides secretly told the architects to make the buildings more dramatic. Bush eagerly accepted the new design.
Unlike presidents past–and present–Bush is deeply ambivalent about trying to shape his own legacy. He feels the early reviews have been harsh, yet he refuses to write his memoirs. Even his friends have criticized the decision, but for Bush, who hates introspection, all politics is personal. To discuss his own failures would require that he describe the shortcomings of those who served him. To him that would be an unforgivable betrayal.
Bush still sometimes wonders aloud to friends about why he lost, but the worst of the pain seems gone. He tries not to criticize Bill Clinton, even in private. But he can’t resist an occasional dig: he noted to NEWSWEEK that the economic turnaround began before he left office. ““Some in the journalistic community thought I was out of touch, that we were still in a recession,’’ Bush said. ““But that’s spilt milk.''
Not surprisingly, Bush is happy to help historians review his foreign policy. In a book to be published next year, he and former national-security adviser Brent Scowcroft offer their view of how they led the world through the end of the cold war. It will detail Bush’s brand of personal diplomacy, the careful cultivation of heads of state that paid off when Bush needed something in return–particularly support during the gulf crisis. Getting Bush to focus on the book was not easy. He once invited aides to Kennebunkport to brainstorm. When they arrived they found 23 guests, including two Roman Catholic cardinals, an Episcopal bishop and The Oak Ridge Boys.
At 73, Bush is as peripatetic as ever. He makes millions off scores of speeches and appears at GOP fund-raisers. The only politics he cares passionately about, however, are those of his sons, George W., the governor of Texas and a likely candidate for president in 2000, and Jeb, who will run for governor of Florida next year. The father gives advice when asked–and that’s not often. ““I keep him informed of what I am doing,’’ says Jeb. Barbara Bush is more direct, offering political counsel when she sees fit.
Five years after leaving Washington, Bush easily jokes about the low moments of his presidency. He has invited former Japanese prime minister Kiichi Miyazawa, ““the one I threw up on,’’ to Texas. ““I told him, this time dinner is on me.’’ The serious reviews are still to come. Pledging to make all of his papers available soon, Bush leaves the rest to historians. His work is done.
