The Power Of Not Being There

I used to think that the toughest question I could ask a would-be US presidential candidate is, "Who are you to put yourself forward as presidential material?" I mean, it takes a significiant amount of confidence, even conceit, to raise one's hand and step forward: "I am your next great world leader!" It is the acme, the zenith, the high point of pride; and it seems it is the very nadir of humility. "Who do you think you are to seek my vote?" is probably not the most politic question, but it gets close to the heart of a candidate's sense of self.

But I am rethinking whether such a challenge is really the best starting point. I think a better starting point might be this: "Assuming you serve as President of the United States for two terms, what do you see yourself doing AFTER you are President?"

We surely know what someone like Jimmy Carter will do after serving just one term: he will serve the public well on many fronts, and do so very publicly. But we also know that he will criticize and even undermine a sitting Administration, using his former (and rather ignominious) stature as a weapon for political sniping. And we know that Bill Clinton will do the same sort of thing, though with a bit more sniping. I mean, what we don't see in either of these men is any invisibility. They are still striving for ascendancy: Books and book tours, lectures, campaigns, talk shows, political consulting, serving as international ambassadors. In short, what we don't see is any reluctance to be seen as servants.

Allow me for a moment to speak about retiring ministers. Many churches will not permit a retired minister to remain in the congregation. Many pastors and priests accept this, for they understand the political pitfalls of hanging around. Some denominations have very strict guidelines, in fact, all designed to protect the church from division. That churches nonetheless often split after a beloved pastor moves on or retires is proof that the process of becoming a "former leader" is fraught with peril. Near where I sit, the local Unitarian Church (one can hardly find a more progressive place), is bitterly split by the very vocal and political presence of its former longtime pastor who not only refuses to leave or be silent, he's even defied recommendations from national oversight boards that he should recede. Unity is a good thing, is it not? Perhaps no act can be more uniting than for a former leader -- one who has allegedly moved on -- to retreat nobly.

I am not suggesting, however, that any former President of the United States must retreat. What interests me is the current President, George W. Bush. What will George W. Bush do with his time after the presidency? I think the answer to that question is pretty clear: He's going to disappear (assuming, of course, that he is not assassinated first, as he, I believe, is the most endangered President in US history).

I wonder if the reader has either read the book, Being There, or seen the movie of the same title. The tale is of an utterly naïve and protected gardener who is ousted from his service to his master when the master suddenly dies and the estate where he works and lives is bequeathed to others. The gardener -- whose name is Chance Gardiner -- through a series of rather humorous events, is elevated to the highest levels of American society, even though he is utterly void of intellectual depth, conceit, or ambition. He is just there, and "being there" is, at least for some, the most important thing of all.

In some ways George W. Bush reminds me of Chance Gardiner, though Chance is a dolt and Bush is not. What George W. Bush has always broadcast to me is a pervasive wish to be somewhere else; he seems to be a reluctant leader. I don't see ambition in the man; he does not seek the spotlight. There are countless leaders on the world stage who seek to wow and woo, and George Bush is certainly not one of the them. In fact, when he walks onto the stage he always looks like he wishes he could be anywhere else. In that he is a lot like Chance Gardiner, who, while "being there", was never really "there." His goal was ultimately about being somewhere else, too.

In a way, this is what makes Bush effective in the American heartland. He sends a message that he would rather be on his farm, working, playing, hanging out with his dogs and his wife, than upstaging his rivals at a cocktail party with badinage or revelling in the sycophancy hidden in a handshake over brie. He conveys that he recognizes that his very dream of the simple rural life is jeopardized by external threats which require a powerful response -- someone needs to respond and it might as well be him (but really, anyone could do it, or so he intimates in his common speech). It is precisely this humility that appeals to voters: Bush is serving this country because he can and is supposed to (a family like the Bushes looks to "give back"), not because he has ambitions or conceit. That message wins elections.

What should we expect from the current President once he retires? We should expect exactly what we already know: he will disappear quietly, like his father has, and the only other living Republican president, Gerald Ford. He will retire to his farm, enjoy his grandchildren; sit on his couch. Hopefully he and his family will live in peace, though I am afraid no family in America will live so protected a life, marked, as they are, by their haters and detractors.

What do you think Al Gore, Hillary Clinton, Howard Dean, or Joe Biden will be doing after they have served as President? How about Mitt Romney, John McCain?

I'd love to know.

Peace and mirth.

©Bill Gnade 2006/Contratimes - All Rights Reserved.