It's probably a good measure of how much has changed in American politics in recent months that George W. Bush was about 30 minutes into his first State of the Union address before he said something I didn't agree with. With serviceable rhetoric and commendable resolve on the war against terrorism, Bush presented much to admire last night, even for Democrats. Like much of his presidency so far, his first State of the Union address was steeped in the lessons of where his Republican predecessors, particularly his father, succeeded -- and where they did not.
In his past major addresses, Bush has drawn heavily upon the vivid imagery associated with Reagan's speechmaking, and, to a lesser degree, his father's. At the 2000 Republican convention, Bush ended his speech by invoking the sunrise imagery that was a Reagan staple. And last year, he concluded his inaugural address by borrowing Thomas Jefferson's description of an angel riding in the "whirlwind" of American history -- subtly recalling his own father's inaugural speech, which was structured around the theme of a "new breeze blowing."
There was less poetry last night, but Bush's trademark plain-spoken rhetoric -- evoking broad terms, such as good, evil, and freedom -- was very much in evidence. "Bush's speeches parse well, but he's reading a polished piece of prose that a gifted writer wrote for him," explains Michael Waldman, a former Clinton speechwriter. Of course, Clinton's own gift as a speaker -- and as a thinker who was deeply engaged in the minutiae of policy -- was sometimes also a weakness. His speeches tended to devolve into laundry lists of proposals; Bush's, by contrast, seem more elegant, if sometimes lacking in specifics.
But if Bush continues to call upon the imagery of his Republican predecessors, last night's speech underscored his determination not to repeat their mistakes, particularly those of his father.
The elder Bush's 1991 State of the Union -- delivered on the eve of American triumph in the Persian Gulf -- divided neatly into thirds, with a meager dose of domestic policy sandwiched between an opening and closing concerned primarily with foreign affairs. It did little to translate military triumphs into domestic momentum.
On the surface, the younger Bush's speech appeared to mimic the structure of his father's wartime address. Like Bush I, he spent approximately the first third of the speech on the war; the second third of the speech on domestic issues; and the final third attempting to expand the narrow confines of a particular conflict into a broad vision for America's role in the world.
But because of a single proposal in the final section of his speech, Bush may well have succeeded where his father failed. His pledge to fight for universal voluntary service -- and his announcement of a new Freedom Corps to make it happen -- represented his most successful attempt to link the war on terrorism to his domestic agenda.
National service is, as Bush implicitly acknowledged by citing the Peace Corps and AmeriCorps, an idea whose roots lie very much in the Democratic Party of Kennedy and Clinton. But it's also one with broad support across the political spectrum. By featuring it so prominently -- and by specifically mentioning his hope that Americans would spend two years or 4,000 hours of their lives in service to their country -- he may have given the idea of universal service teeth that it previously lacked. More importantly, he drew a credible link between his administration's success on the battlefield abroad and its plan for improving American life at home. That's something his father was never quite able to do.
So what does it mean that I -- and likely most Democrats -- found ourselves agreeing with much of what Bush said last night? First, it means that he left quite a bit unsaid. Bush may have gracefully slipped past the dicey question of Enron with his call for the "highest standards of conduct" in American business; but he shied away from campaign finance reform, the most pressing issue raised by the emerging scandal. He avoided talk of military courts, an issue where many pro-war Democrats and libertarian conservatives diverge in their support of his anti-terrorism efforts. Neither did he delve into stem cell research, a topic where level-headed supporters of science and research find his slavish submission to religious zealots alarming.
Bush also succeeded in either sandwiching his most conservative proposals -- Alaska drilling, faith-based initiatives, social security privatization, and abortion -- between more unifying concerns about foreign policy or couching them in soft rhetoric of little explanation. He spoke of increasing "energy production at home," not drilling in Alaska; and he made the obligatory Republican reference to the "dignity of every life," rather than speaking directly of abortion.
It is perhaps easier for Democrats to forget about such issues when they're spoken of quickly or obliquely, and easiest when they are not spoken of at all. Since these are the areas where Democrats should be fighting the president, it's important that they not go unsaid -- or said quietly -- for too long.
But none of this changes the fact that I did far more head-nodding than head-shaking last night. This is, perhaps, how it should be in wartime. But if Bush has truly learned from his father's mistakes, then he'll also figure out a way to do something domestically with the momentum his foreign triumphs have generated. He could start by talking less about tax cuts, and more about national service.
