John Lewis Gaddis: How history might regard Bush
... Presidential revisionism tends to begin with small surprises. How, for instance, could a Missouri politician like Truman who never went to college get along so well with a Yale-educated dandy like Acheson? How could Eisenhower, who spoke so poorly, write so well? How could Reagan, the prototypical hawk, want to abolish nuclear weapons? Answering such questions caused historians to challenge conventional wisdom about these Presidents, revealing the extent to which stereotypes had misled their contemporaries.
So what might shift contemporary impressions of President Bush? I can only speak for myself here, but something I did not expect was the discovery that he reads more history and talks with more historians than any of his predecessors since at least John F. Kennedy. The President has surprised me more than once with comments on my own books soon after they’ve appeared, and I’m hardly the only historian who has had this experience. I’ve found myself improvising excuses to him, in Oval Office seminars, as to why I hadn’t read the latest book on Lincoln, or on—as Bush refers to him—the “first George W.” I’ve even assigned books to Yale students on his recommendation, with excellent results.
“Well, so Bush reads history”, one might reasonably observe at this point. “Isn’t it more important to find out how he uses it?” It is indeed, and I doubt that anybody will be in a position to answer that question definitively until the oral histories get recorded, the memoirs get written, and the archives open. But I can say this on the basis of direct observation: President Bush is interested—as no other occupant of the White House has been for quite a long time—in how the past can provide guidance for the future.
Presidents who’ve sought to shape the future have generally done so by proclaiming doctrines, mostly unsuccessfully. A few, like those of Monroe and Truman, have indeed influenced succeeding Administrations for decades to come—in Monroe’s case, for well over a century, in Truman’s for almost half a century until the Cold War came to an end. Most doctrines, however, faded from view as soon as the Presidents who announced them left office, sometimes even before they did. Who today, apart from historians, remembers the doctrines of Hoover, Eisenhower, Nixon, Carter, Reagan or Clinton?
Three things, I think, made the Monroe and Truman Doctrines transfer across time and space: They drew on a long history, they related that history to a current crisis, and in doing so they set a course the nation could feasibly navigate into the future.
The Monroe Doctrine reflected a long American tradition—extending well back into the 18th century—of associating liberty, prosperity and security with continental expansion. Its principal author, Secretary of State John Quincy Adams, related that history to the crisis caused by the apparent intention of European monarchs—Great Britain’s excepted—to re establish their colonies in the Western Hemisphere after Napoleon’s defeat. The course Adams set was that “the American continents, by the free and independent condition which they have assumed and maintained, are henceforth not to be considered as subjects for future colonization by any European powers.” Its feasibility lay in the fact that the British tacitly agreed with that policy and were willing to use their navy to enforce it. The Monroe Doctrine was unilateral, as presidential doctrines must be. But it was based upon a realistic calculation of power within the international system, as all doctrines should be.
The Truman Doctrine drew upon an equally long American tradition—reinforced by involvement in two 20th-century world wars—of opposing the domination of Europe by a single hostile power. Its principal author, then-Under Secretary of State Acheson, related that history to the crisis caused by the outcome of World War II, which left the Soviet Union in control of half of Europe. The course he set was that “it must be the policy of the United States to support free peoples who are resisting attempted subjugation by armed minorities or by outside pressures.” Its feasibility lay in George F. Kennan’s great insight that the Stalinist system and the international communist movement carried within themselves the seeds of their own destruction, so that the passage of time would favor the West if it could hold the line. The Truman Doctrine, like the Monroe Doctrine, was unilateral; but it, too, was based upon a realistic calculation of power within the international system.
Neither of these doctrines promised immediate results. Both looked beyond the crises that gave rise to them—beyond even the administrations that proclaimed them—to say, in effect: “Here’s where we’ve been as a nation, and in the light of that, here’s where we need to go.” Both functioned as beacons, providing the guidance necessary for the course corrections ships of state must from time to time make. And both did so within a single memorable sentence.
So is there a Bush Doctrine, and if so will it meet this test of transferability?...
Read entire article at American Interest
So what might shift contemporary impressions of President Bush? I can only speak for myself here, but something I did not expect was the discovery that he reads more history and talks with more historians than any of his predecessors since at least John F. Kennedy. The President has surprised me more than once with comments on my own books soon after they’ve appeared, and I’m hardly the only historian who has had this experience. I’ve found myself improvising excuses to him, in Oval Office seminars, as to why I hadn’t read the latest book on Lincoln, or on—as Bush refers to him—the “first George W.” I’ve even assigned books to Yale students on his recommendation, with excellent results.
“Well, so Bush reads history”, one might reasonably observe at this point. “Isn’t it more important to find out how he uses it?” It is indeed, and I doubt that anybody will be in a position to answer that question definitively until the oral histories get recorded, the memoirs get written, and the archives open. But I can say this on the basis of direct observation: President Bush is interested—as no other occupant of the White House has been for quite a long time—in how the past can provide guidance for the future.
Presidents who’ve sought to shape the future have generally done so by proclaiming doctrines, mostly unsuccessfully. A few, like those of Monroe and Truman, have indeed influenced succeeding Administrations for decades to come—in Monroe’s case, for well over a century, in Truman’s for almost half a century until the Cold War came to an end. Most doctrines, however, faded from view as soon as the Presidents who announced them left office, sometimes even before they did. Who today, apart from historians, remembers the doctrines of Hoover, Eisenhower, Nixon, Carter, Reagan or Clinton?
Three things, I think, made the Monroe and Truman Doctrines transfer across time and space: They drew on a long history, they related that history to a current crisis, and in doing so they set a course the nation could feasibly navigate into the future.
The Monroe Doctrine reflected a long American tradition—extending well back into the 18th century—of associating liberty, prosperity and security with continental expansion. Its principal author, Secretary of State John Quincy Adams, related that history to the crisis caused by the apparent intention of European monarchs—Great Britain’s excepted—to re establish their colonies in the Western Hemisphere after Napoleon’s defeat. The course Adams set was that “the American continents, by the free and independent condition which they have assumed and maintained, are henceforth not to be considered as subjects for future colonization by any European powers.” Its feasibility lay in the fact that the British tacitly agreed with that policy and were willing to use their navy to enforce it. The Monroe Doctrine was unilateral, as presidential doctrines must be. But it was based upon a realistic calculation of power within the international system, as all doctrines should be.
The Truman Doctrine drew upon an equally long American tradition—reinforced by involvement in two 20th-century world wars—of opposing the domination of Europe by a single hostile power. Its principal author, then-Under Secretary of State Acheson, related that history to the crisis caused by the outcome of World War II, which left the Soviet Union in control of half of Europe. The course he set was that “it must be the policy of the United States to support free peoples who are resisting attempted subjugation by armed minorities or by outside pressures.” Its feasibility lay in George F. Kennan’s great insight that the Stalinist system and the international communist movement carried within themselves the seeds of their own destruction, so that the passage of time would favor the West if it could hold the line. The Truman Doctrine, like the Monroe Doctrine, was unilateral; but it, too, was based upon a realistic calculation of power within the international system.
Neither of these doctrines promised immediate results. Both looked beyond the crises that gave rise to them—beyond even the administrations that proclaimed them—to say, in effect: “Here’s where we’ve been as a nation, and in the light of that, here’s where we need to go.” Both functioned as beacons, providing the guidance necessary for the course corrections ships of state must from time to time make. And both did so within a single memorable sentence.
So is there a Bush Doctrine, and if so will it meet this test of transferability?...