We want readers to understand that what we have written here is neither an indictment nor an endorsement of Rove’s skills. This is simply a story of a man who understands the American political process, quite possibly, better than anyone our culture has ever produced. He has used that knowledge to gain effective control in elections for his candidates. Frankly, we do not believe anyone has ever done it better. If one of the many very competent national political consultants had been in charge of the Bush campaign in 2000, rather than Rove, the current president would have ended up little more than an historical footnote, son of a former president who ran a failed race for the White House. Instead, he won, not just because of his own capabilities, but also through the genius of Karl Rove. Just like a young artist with the gift of great prescience, a Hemingway or Fitzgerald, Rove knew from the beginning what he wanted to do and devoted all of his energy and intellectual development to this goal.
His master remarked to him more than once: There is nothing small about you, my boy. You are going to be a great man one way or the other, either for good or evil.
One of the penalties for refusing to participate in politics is that you end up being governed by your inferiors.
There was a decided longing in Bush’s downbeat response, a lament over the loss of something he had not acknowledged until that particular moment, crossing the dark American sky en route to a destination chose, not by himself, but by family, friends, money, corporations, and destiny.
Long before he was afraid of losing the race for the presidency, Bush was scared to death of winning. Gone from his life would be the solitary runs around the shaded trails of Austin’s Town Lake, impromptu visits to his favorite Mexican food restaurants, the chance to slip off with wife Laura to a movie, going to visit old friends in Austin without a motorcade and security. The regular things that gave George W. Bush his appeal to regular people had to be sacrificed. As confident as his family and supporters were of the choice, the candidate remained tentative.
The Texan was a reluctant political warrior. The White House was not truly a dream of Bush’s, just an assumed role foisted on him by circumstances such as his family and the expectations of his political party. The most likely motive was political restoration; to put the Bush name back into what the family viewed as its historical correct place after George H. W. Bush was displaced by Bill Clinton. The family wanted to avenge the father’s defeat, and with considerable effort and the enormous political machinery of a national race, they did.
One of his friends from his youth remains amazed to this day that Bush ended up in the White House. “Of all the kids who lived in all the houses on our street, he’s the last one I would have thought might become a president.”
Bush had some of the personal traits necessary to achieve national political prominence, but he was not capable of rising on his own. His attributes as a candidate — familial connections, money, personal affability, and a goal, regardless of whether it was his or someone else’s — were still not enough. History requires a confluence of domestic and international currents and an expertise in the political arts.
For the journalists, friends, opponents, and clients who have known Rove, the answer seemed less an overstatement than the affirmation of his obvious lifelong goal. Anyone who has spent any time around Karl Rove knows he is obsessed with politics.
“It’s a 24-hour a day conversation. Part of it is just sheer brainpower. The guy’s got an extra chromosome. It’s just sort of jaw dropping to spend any amount of time around him and realize how much he can do and do it well. I think most mortals would be able to do about a tenth of what he does.”
Karl Rove is the Bobby Fischer of politics. He not only sees the board. He sees 20 moves ahead.
The idea that President Bush simply does the bidding of his consultant is an obvious simplification. But it is just as foolish to ignore the manifest ways in which Rove has redefined the role of political advisor. The president my arrive at his own conclusion about politics and policy. But virtually all of the data, and its interpretation, are coming from Karl Rove. And the material, undoubtedly, points the president where his expert wants him to go on matters of both politics and policy.
Self-confidence is the first requisite to great undertakings.
The extreme reaction did not make sense. Rove was fairly practiced at anger management and was more likely to slice up reporters with an intellectually condescending rebuke.
People, drawn by simple curiosity as well as political inclination, had turned out in large, enthusiastic numbers to see the Texas governor. But not much of it was spontaneous. Rove was at the controls and nothing, therefore, happened without his advice and consent.
His gift, perhaps more than any political advisor in history, was the ability both to visualize the broad design of a successful presidential campaign and to manage its every detail.
In 1973, Mr. Rove organized conferences that instructed young Republicans on campaign dirty tricks, such as going through a rival’s garbage to obtain inside memos and contributor lists.
Rove understood that journalists were not so much opposition as referees. Dealing with them asked little of his great intellect. True political opponent, however, were a different kind of game, and Rove brought them down with the fervor of a natural predator.
The great majority of mankind is satisfied with appearances, as though they were realities.
The “afterthought,” though, led to some forward thinking. Rove’s instinct was to turn every circumstance into a political advantage. Before federal agents were out his door, he must have been developing plans to leverage news that his office had been bugged. Strictly from a commercial standpoint, the incident had the potential to be good for Rove’s business. Any consultant good enough for somebody to bug his office was surely a consultant to be sought after for his wise counsel.
Inevitably, the story distracted from advance coverage of the debate and any reporting on issues confronting the state. Editors will pick a mystery over a policy discussion every time.
“Well, I was surprised. I was disappointed. I was shocked. I think that properly describes my reaction. I don’t really have any comment about it at this time because I don’t know anything about it.”
Clement’s carefully considered words allowed viewers of the late newscast that night to infer that he was “shocked” and “disappointed” in his opponent.
What came across to me, whether it was that he did it and wanted us to know he did it, or that it happened and he wanted to take credit for it in some way, it came across the same: “Wasn’t I a clever boy?”
All successful people are susceptible to moments of rambunctious ego. Political operatives are conflicted by the nature of their profession. If their ideas and implementation work, they do not get to take credit. The candidate wins. Not the consultant.
Politics is supposed to be the second oldest profession. I have come to realize that it bears a very close resemblance to the first.