THE LOVE AFFAIR between conservatives and President Bush was epitomized by the appearance of Karl Rove, Bush’s chief political strategist, at the Conservative Political Action Conference in Washington. Rove was as eager to be there as the group was to have him. Often attacked by conservatives during his years as a Texas consultant, Rove received two standing ovations. He had offered to speak after attorney general John Ashcroft turned down an invitation. To accommodate CPAC’s schedule, Rove cancelled plans to return to Texas to help move his family to Washington. “I got my wife’s permission,” Rove says. When he arrived, Rove told his hosts he would “sneak out” after his speech. Instead, he stayed to hear other speakers and then lingered for 20 minutes to chat with CPAC attendees.
The Rove episode shows how attentive the Bush White House is to conservatives, especially “movement” conservatives. “You don’t neglect your base,” Rove explains. “This is a natural extension of what we did during the campaign.” Nope, it’s more than that. Guided by Rove, Bush doesn’t treat conservatives as “just another interest group . . . like Native Americans or Samoans,” says David Keene, president of the American Conservative Union. “They’re a junior partner.” And this consideration for conservatives marks “a change from his father’s rule, which was pretty much to ignore conservatives,” says Chuck Cunningham of the National Rifle Association.
Just how attentive is the White House? Very. A Bush aide, either the White House political director or the head of the office of public liaison, attends Washington’s two weekly meetings for conservative activists — run by Grover Norquist and Paul Wey-rich respectively. Last week, Bush economic coordinator Larry Lindsey spoke at Norquist’s gathering. Rove himself stays in almost hourly contact with conservatives. When a conservative lobbyist e-mailed him one evening about missile defense, Rove answered early the next morning, though the lobbyist wasn’t a major player on defense issues. On inauguration weekend, the NRA fretted over a rumor that former Arizona senator Dennis DeConcini would be named drug czar. So an NRA official e-mailed Rove, who responded immediately with the sarcastic suggestion the White House would name Sarah Brady, a leading gun controller, to head the Bureau of Alcohol, Tobacco and Firearms. DeConcini, a Democrat, didn’t get the job.
Then there are the frequent conference calls with social conservatives, economic conservatives, hi-tech conservatives, and Catholic conservatives. Rove usually joins these calls. It was a conference call with social conservatives during the transition that paved the way for Ashcroft to be picked as Bush’s attorney general. Also, the White House is reviving the practice, from Bush’s time as Texas governor, of inviting conservative scholars and intellectuals to meet with Bush or his staff. On tap are sessions with, among others, a group of presidential scholars (including some conservatives) and Frank Fukuyama, professor of public policy at George Mason University.
Bush has been wooing conservatives — and not just those in Texas — as far back as his first term as governor. Even before announcing for president, he’d locked up the support of top officials of the NRA, National Right to Life Committee, and Americans for Tax Reform (Norquist’s group). His well-publicized embrace of born-again Christianity gained him backing inside the Religious Right. Of course, his main talking points — his agenda — are also conservative: tax cuts, Social Security reform, a stronger military, faith-based programs, and so on. And Bush has stuck to these goals almost robotically, citing them when he announced his candidacy in 1999, in his acceptance speech at the GOP convention last summer, when the Florida recount collapsed in December, and in his inaugural address. He never “trimmed his sails,” says CPAC organizer Craig Shirley, even when John McCain attacked him from the left in the Republican primaries.
When Bush became president, the media expected conservatives to become his biggest problem, demanding more than Bush would be willing to deliver. Instead, Republican moderates, notably McCain, have caused more trouble. Conservatives have swooned. For each sector of the conservative coalition, says Norquist, Bush “got their hot button item and he got it right.” Pro-lifers were rewarded by reinstatement of the Mexico City policy, barring aid to international pro-abortion groups. The NRA was thrilled with Ashcroft’s promise to turn Project Exile, under which criminals who use guns are prosecuted swiftly in federal court, into a national program. NRA officials are also working with Housing and Urban Development secretary Mel Martinez to eliminate gun control efforts run by HUD. Religious conservatives, with a few exceptions such as Pat Robertson, like Bush’s plan to fund faith-based social programs.
The romance between Bush and conservatives is bound to get rocky. Should Bush compromise with Democrats on taxes or spending or missile defense, it would cause a rift. But after the first month of the Bush presidency, there is nothing but mutual affection between Bush and conservatives. At CPAC, Rove played to his audience, likening Bush not to his father, the former president, but to Ronald Reagan. He spelled out Bush’s five-part agenda and said the “sixth goal is to pass the first five.” His message to conservatives, Rove said later, was to “get their armies ginned up” to enact the agenda. The night before, Vice President Dick Cheney was the CPAC speaker. He asked why Ashcroft hadn’t come and was told Ashcroft had used the excuse that it would be unethical for the attorney general to speak at a political event. “Unethical?” Cheney asked. “Then why am I here?” For the same reason Rove was there: to stir the faithful.
Fred Barnes is executive editor of THE WEEKLY STANDARD.
