The Buck Stops . . . Somewhere Else -- Anywhere ElseJosh Marshall points out that what George Bush is calling Kerry’s “wild claims” are actually the conclusions of his own intelligence officials based on “decisive evidence”. A valid criticism, but this is hardly out of character. Bush is not one to put much stock in what his intelligence people tell him.
But the quote Marshall uses is poignant to me for a different reason. Because it shows that Bush could have learned an important lesson from my father.
Here’s the quote from Bush’s speech in Colorado:
Now my opponent is throwing out the wild claim that he knows where bin Laden was in the fall of 2001, and that our military passed up the chance to get him in Tora Bora. This is an unjustified criticism of our military commanders in the field.
What’s interesting to me about this is the subtle abdication of responsibility hidden within the retort. Bush and his team are some of the most sophisticated campaigners (that is to say, liars) around. Even as it becomes harder and harder to deny the clear failures in the war in Iraq, I don’t think we will see Bush admitting any mistakes. What I think we will see more of, however, is this sort of deflection of blame couched in a denial of wrongdoing. You can see its reflection in the blogosphere, as Bushbloggers who used to say Bush was doing a great job in Iraq now are beginning to admit certain failures, but adding, “you can’t blame Bush for that.”
Bush wants us to believe that there is some inherent quality that Bush has—and that Kerry lacks—that is essential to fighting terrorists. Kerry never would have had the . . . conviction? steadfastness? determination? I’m not sure what the word de jure is . . . balls to go after Osama, but Bush did. Nevermind that Bush hasn’t caught Osama—that was the responsibility of “military commanders in the field”.
Bush supporters like to mock Kerry for not being as “manly” as Bush. Well, I learned what I know about being a man from my father, the son of a West Virginia coal miner, and I can tell you it has nothing to do with riding horses or mountain bikes, what costumes you wear, or how you talk. A real man takes responsibility for his actions, and for the safety and well-being of those who depend on him. A real man doesn’t run from conflict, and will defend what is his with his life—but doesn’t go picking fights. A real man knows the difference between brave and stupid, and that the line that separates them is sometimes razor-thin. A real man makes the hard decisions—the ones others are too weak to face—and takes the consequences head-on. A real man owns his mistakes, learns from them, is proud of them, like he’s proud of a scar earned in hard work or hard fighting.
When I was a kid, my dad took me out to teach me how to fire a gun. I remember him unwrapping the silver six-shooter, and me being eager to touch it, to feel its weight in my hand, and to fire it. I’m sure my dad saw this eagerness, and before he let me touch the gun, he told me—in that almost angry tone he gets when he’s talking about something deadly serious—that I needed to understand what this was. Not a toy, no, not even a tool. This is a weapon, he told me, and its only purpose is to kill. He told me the that I should never, ever point a loaded gun at any living thing I did not intend to kill. And that even when I was aiming for a non-living target, as we were about to, I should keep in mind that the slightest mistake could result in the taking of a life. I remember asking him about shooting someone in the arm or leg, to stop them without killing them. He shook his head. When you shoot, he said, you shoot to kill. I was not allowed to touch the gun until my father was satisfied that I understood the seriousness of what he was about to teach me, and the importance of paying attention—closer attention than I had ever paid to anything else in my life—because if I didn’t learn exactly how to safely handle the gun, if I wasn’t 100% aware and in control every second that gun was in my hands—someone could die.
What my father taught me then was basically a variation of the NRA catchphrase, “guns don’t kill people, people kill people”. When you take up a gun, you take on a mantle of extraordinary power—literally, the power over life and death. And with great power comes great responsibility. George W. Bush never learned that lesson, and that makes him too dangerous to be allowed near a gun—much less the greatest army the world has ever known.
George W. Bush is a big man with a big gun. But he is not a real man because he is not willing to take responsibility—only credit.
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