One of the implicit conclusions of the Sept. 11, 2001 commission’s report over a decade ago was that the American people were indirectly to blame for the attacks. They were to blame because they chose the worst possible combination of presidents, Bill Clinton, followed by George W. Bush. The reason was that Clinton liked to think and talk, but had little capacity to act; whereas Bush was the opposite.
The report showed in great detail how the Clinton administration contemplated, anticipated and debated precisely the kind of threat that al Qaeda presented, but failed to mobilize the bureaucracy to meet it. When Clinton spoke, his own government often did not listen. He presided but he did not command.
Bush, by contrast, helped by Dick Cheney, had considerable command over the bureaucracy. When he issued an order, it was usually obeyed. But his inner circle did not contemplate this particular threat, or repeatedly rejected suggestions that it do so. Its attention and thinking, to the extent it valued creative thinking at all, were elsewhere.
This cumulative verdict is an appealing one, especially for counterfactual minds. If only Clinton had been more respected and more effective, they say, or if only Bush had been more curious and creative, these terrible events almost certainly would have been prevented, and the American people would have been spared a nearly two-decade long “war on terror.”
Now another deadly combination is gaining popularity among prognosticators. One of the reasons for the passion of Donald Trump’s and Bernie Sanders’ followers, say some people, is the desperate need of the country for a leader who leads in the traditional way, that is, loudly from the front. Some — notably Bobby Jindal — have gone so far as to place much of the blame upon President Obama himself.
It will take some time for historians to rank Obama’s accomplishments in relation to those of other presidents, not to mention learning what went on behind closed doors. But now there is little doubt that he has given a very different impression from the one on offer. Rightly or wrongly, he has appeared as a spectator at his own presidency.
There is some truth to the charge, but it evokes the wrong contrast. It is not between active or passive leaders, but rather between indecisive and ambivalent ones.
George W. Bush called himself “the decider.” He was anything but. His “decisions” rather were choices, nearly all made hastily and in reaction to events, for the purpose of appearing strong, tough, stalwart, serious.
Obama, on the other hand, has been a slow, cautious, deliberate decision-maker. But he has rarely used the extra time to build consensus around a particular policy; to persuade others to back it; or to persuade them (or himself) to compromise on a middle position. In fact, Obama has loved taking middle positions, but he has issued them in Solomonic fashion, not from the front or from behind so much as from above.
This method has seen both allies and adversaries take even more extreme, and self-defeating, positions in response. It has happened so often — with healthcare, the Iran nuclear deal, trade, Syria, etc. — that it looks almost intentional. Has Obama brought a silent majority along with him to the middle? Or divided it even more against itself? That remains to be seen.
Intentional or not, he has not convinced the country that his particular vision for its future, whatever it may be, is the best one. Rather he has convinced a slight majority of Americans — going by the most recent approval ratings — that he’s doing an alright job, in marked contrast to his predecessor and, if present trends continue, to any of his likely successors.
There is an old phrase to describe such a politician: one who emerges from the water dry. On balance it’s a rather conservative approach: a policy of limited liability, notably to oneself.
Obama’s difficulty is that he promised, and has appeared to want, much more than this. His failures to persuade have been matched only, at least at the outset of his presidency, by his gift to inspire. For all that he has wanted to play it safe and to conserve his political capital, he has also not renounced his claim to be a “transformational” president, and has hinted now and then of more inspiration still to come. He has, in other words, sought to have it both ways.
This is the definition of ambivalence. Indecisive people can’t make up their minds and sometimes put on an act of will to mask the problem. Ambivalent people can decide, but they don’t want to choose. They want to have it all.
Nowhere is this more apparent than in Obama’s approach to foreign policy. He has sought, by his own admission, to do away with the “Washington playbook,” by which he means to readjust his country’s relationship to the rest of the world by making it less dependent upon American power. At the same time, he has asserted that a particular set of liberal, international values — still understood by many people around the world as Western — are the only ones to follow.
America, he continues to insist, is still exceptional, so maybe it can enjoy power, even virtual power, with less responsibility. Maybe it can still be globally preeminent. Maybe it can subtract from and limit its liabilities around the world without adding to its burdens. Maybe it can win over adversaries without sacrificing allies.
And maybe, if we’re lucky, the transformational Obama administration will end the cycle of unimaginative presidents succeeding ineffective ones, and launch the country on a new path of progress. But his successor will surely have something to say about that.
Kenneth Weisbrode is a writer and historian. His latest book is The Year of Indecision, 1946. Thinking of submitting an op-ed to the Washington Examiner? Be sure to read our guidelines on submissions.
