General Maloney, members of the Army-Navy Club, Ed Meese, Ken Adelman, Tony Dolan, guests and friends--Good evening.
First, I want to thank the Army-Navy Club for sponsoring this event.
We can name airports and buildings after Ronald Reagan, but unless people take the time to understand his enormous contribution to where this country is today, we will not have given him the credit he deserves.
He certainly didn’t get that credit during his lifetime, or when he was capable of appreciating it, and he still has not been taken as seriously as he should by scholars, but events like this will ultimately make it happen.
As I will say in these remarks, Reagan wouldn’t have cared whether he got the credit he deserves, but that does not mean that those of us who are his beneficiaries should not award it.
This tribute comes only a few days after what would have been Ronald Reagan’s 94th birthday, and only a few weeks after the second inauguration of George W. Bush.
Perhaps many of you, like me--in listening to President Bush’s Inaugural Address--thought of Ronald Reagan. The support for democracy and human freedom in that declaration recalled Reagan’s famous speech to the British Parliament in 1982, his reference to the Soviet Union as an “evil empire,” and his call at the Brandenburg Gate in 1987 “Mr. Gorbachev, tear down this wall!”
Indeed, it would not be too much to say that if it weren’t for Ronald Reagan--his articulation of a powerful and consistent conservative philosophy and the fact that with this philosophy he set the United States on a new course during his presidency--George W. Bush might not have been the one taking the oath of office a few weeks ago.
Although we followed him closely during his presidency, and delighted in his success, Ronald Reagan was a bit of a mystery--and he remains so today. When he took office, pundits were saying that the job was just too big for one man, that perhaps we needed a corporate “office of the presidency.” Indeed, his predecessors had seemed to grow old before our eyes with the pressures of the job.
But Reagan made it look easy. He followed such a relaxed schedule that he developed a reputation for being lazy. Finally, a reporter asked him why he didn’t work harder, and Reagan said, with that familiar bob of the head, “Well, they say that hard work never hurt anyone, but I say: Why take a chance?”
He seldom seemed to take an active part in the development of many of the policies and programs of his administration, or to negotiate necessary legislation for these programs with congressional leaders; at press conferences, he did not appear to know the details of many of his administration’s actions; and he did not bother to keep tabs on what the members of his cabinet were doing or saying. It might reasonably be said that he reigned during his presidency, rather than ruled.
Yet, during his 8 years in office he completely changed the direction of the country, reinvigorating the economy and restoring the spirit and confidence of the American people. In foreign policy, he produced the first arms reduction treaty with the Soviet Union, and many objective observers credit him with bringing about the collapse of the Soviet Empire and the Soviet Union itself, ending the Cold War without firing a shot.
How did he do it?
My explanation begins with an event that opens my book, because it was one of the most intriguing episodes of my time in the White House--and, as I tried to make sense of it, became a key to understanding Ronald Reagan and his success as president.
The event in question was a lunch with the Supreme Court, which I had arranged in order to continue a longstanding tradition. The date was November 25, 1986. Almost all the members of the Court attended, and in my mind’s eye I still see a jovial Reagan in the center of a semi-circle of Justices that included Thurgood Marshall, William Brennan, Nino Scalia, Byron White, and the Chief Justice, William Rehnquist.
Reagan is holding a glass of white wine and his head is thrown back as he laughed at something someone had said. Later, at lunch, Reagan and Thurgood Marshall--both wonderful raconteurs--traded funny stories on everything from their childhoods through contemporary baseball, and these, in Shakespeare’s phrase, “kept the table on a roar.” And no one was having a better time than Ronald Reagan.
What was so strange about this scene was that, only a few hours before, Reagan had told a shocked group of congressional leaders, assembled in the cabinet room, that funds from the Iranian arms sales may have been diverted to the Contras in Nicaragua.
And only 100 yards away, at that very moment, Ed Meese was trying to deal with a White House press that was virtually bouncing off the walls. For the first time since the Iran-Contra affair had begun weeks earlier, the term “impeachment” was being thrown around in serious quarters. It was clearly the lowest point in Reagan’s presidency. Yet here he was, seemingly without a care in the world.
The Reagan-haters (yes, there were Reagan-haters just like there are Bush-haters today) would view this as another example of Reagan’s “disengagement”--proof that he was not really participating in his own administration, or perhaps even unable to comprehend the gravity of what was happening around him.
Indeed, how could anyone accept with such equanimity an event that could irrevocably damage his presidency and his place in history?
It took me a while to understand this myself, but eventually I realized that Ronald Reagan was wholly different from any other modern president, that he had a unique and well thought out view of how he would conduct his administration, and that this view was implemented through a subtle strategy that required him to make his ideas and principles--and not himself--the central focus of his presidency.
Perhaps those of you who visited or spent time in the Oval Office recall that Reagan had a sign on his desk that said: “There is no limit to what a man can do or where he can go if he doesn’t mind who gets the credit.”
If we take this aphorism seriously, and we should, it has significant implications. On its face, of course, it suggests only that there is a trade-off between the reputation of a person--even a president--and the achievement of his goals. But in a broader sense, it means that ideas--which are not unique to or the property of any individual--are ultimately more important than the person who promotes them.
We know that Ronald Reagan was a believer in the power and importance of ideas and principles; what has not been so clear is that this focus shaped his presidency and accounted for his success.
We tend to think of presidents as concerned about how they will be written up in history. Of course they are. Most people who become president have sacrificed a lot to get there. It would not be too much to say that they were driven--driven to distinguish themselves from others and--perhaps even a bit ruthlessly--to reach the pinnacle of power. The point is that, for this reason, presidents inevitably make themselves the central focus of their administrations.
But Ronald Reagan showed very little interest in how he personally was viewed as president or how he would be treated by history. He was far more interested--indeed, he seemed solely interested--in the success of his ideas.
He had first come to public attention in 1964, with a famous speech in support of Barry Goldwater. But The Speech, as it was known, was not about Goldwater. It was about the growth of government and its potential for stifling freedom and economic growth. “The truth is,” he said in The Speech, “that outside of its legitimate function, government does nothing as well or as economically as the private sector of the economy.” Sixteen years later, in his first Inaugural Address, referring to the country’s economic conditions at the time, he said “In this present crisis, government is not the solution to our problem; government is the problem.”
There are many stories about Reagan’s wit and courage after he was shot in early 1981 (gazing up at the doctors hovering over him, for example, he said “I hope you’re all Republicans”) but one of my favorites points to Reagan’s rather skeptical view of government. It may be apocryphal, but when Reagan was recuperating an aide is reputed to have said, “You’ll be happy to know that the government is running normally while you’re in the hospital.” To which Reagan replied: “What makes you think I’d be happy about that?”
Clearly, Ronald Reagan had sought the presidency to implement his view that the growth of government should be checked, and its role in the economy reduced. He wanted to implement this general approach through tax cuts, reductions in regulation, and other measures that would free the American people to take more responsibility for themselves. And by late 1986--when the Iran-Contra affair first came to light--he had achieved three out of the four objectives that he seems to have selected as the key policy goals of his presidency.
He had revived the power of the American economy by cutting taxes and regulation.
He had made American companies tougher and more competitive by freeing trade and declining to interfere with the corporate takeover movement that was forcing changes in weak managements.
And third, he had helped the American people to get over the traumas of Vietnam and Watergate, and recover their old spirit and confidence, by his own jaunty demeanor, by his unshakable confidence in the resourcefulness of the American people, and--in firing the Air Traffic Controllers when they went on strike--by demonstrating that there was a right and wrong, and that a determined leader could control events.
The only one of his four goals he had not yet attained was a reduction in the threat of nuclear attack. But his strategy for this was well in place, beginning with a massive military buildup and unwavering support for strengthening our armed forces. The Strategic Defense Initiative was underway, but its success, if any, was well in the future. He had begun discussions with Mikhail Gorbachev, but these were not to bear fruit until 1988, when he and Gorbachev signed the INF treaty, reducing nuclear weapons in central Europe.
In any event, it was indeed “Morning in America.” And this was more than a gauzy slogan; it reflected the sense of the American people that the country was back on track—that we were Americans, we could achieve anything, and we were once more on the move.
While the Iran-Contra scandal threatened Reagan’s reputation, it did not threaten his accomplishments. There was nothing about it that would undo any of the things he had already put in place. Despite his disappointment that the American people did not believe that he hadn’t traded arms for hostages, Reagan was able to see that it would not adversely affect his policy goals. His successes were already in the bank, and his personal reputation was not something he worried about. That’s why, I believe, at the lowest point of his presidency, Reagan was still able to enjoy a humorous lunch with the Supreme Court.
But Reagan’s focus on the success of his ideas--rather than his personal success--had a more far-reaching purpose than simply enabling him to put the Iran-Contra matter in perspective. He also realized that if he could persuade the American people to accept his view of government’s limited role, he could bring about changes that would extend well beyond his term of office.
His speeches thus became, from the time he took office, the principal element and substance of his presidency. He led through his speeches, constantly making the case that there was no limit to what the American people could achieve if government would just get out of the way.
Here’s a typical passage from a radio address in August 1984:
“Setting goals, meeting challenges, striving for excellence are keys to the endless possibilities the future holds in store for America. It’s not for the Federal Government to set those goals, but we can help challenge Americans to challenge themselves in all areas of their lives; and, like our Olympic athletes, to reach for greatness.”
But this approach required an unusual strategy--a radical pruning of the issues with which he could be involved. It would be impossible to persuade the American people to follow him on the broadest questions of public policy--on limiting the government’s role in society--if he became identified with controversial positions that inevitably divide the country.
If you’ve read Reagan in His Own Hand, by Kiron Skinner and Annelise and Martin Anderson, you know that between 1975 and 1979 Reagan researched and wrote almost 1000 radio addresses on subjects as diverse as drug policy and SALT II--literally every issue he would face as president. In these addresses, he had, as always, posed problems and proposed solutions.
Yet as president he almost never pressed his cabinet or staff to adopt particular policies or programs that were not linked directly to his major objectives. To be sure, policy issues came up to him through the cabinet council process, but he did little to alter them if they accorded generally with his philosophy, and he had little to do with pushing them through Congress if legislation was required.
This strategic reticence earned him a media image as disengaged; not up to the job; an actor playing president; a bumbler protected by a superior staff (this idea was widely promoted by some members of the White House staff); and as a spokesman for ideas developed by others. And this media image shaped the opinion of the intellectual class--already predisposed against Reagan’s ideology--that he was an “amiable dunce,” in Clark Clifford’s famous formulation.
Reagan ignored this--in fact, he gloried in it. He was once asked to sign a publicity photo for one of his old films, Bedtime for Bonzo, in which his costar was a chimpanzee. On the photo of the two of them, Reagan wrote “I’m the one with the watch.”
Now, it is clear to everyone who has read his radio addresses that the characterizations of Reagan as a dunce were wildly off the mark. He had strong and well-formulated opinions on a wide range of policy issues, which--unknown to his critics and even his staff--he had already researched and expressed years before he became president.
On the evidence of the radio addresses alone, he probably knew more about the issues he would face as president than any of his predecessors, and certainly more than the critics who belittled him. And, as his speechwriters have since pointed out, he carefully edited every speech they wrote--which in any event were frequently cribbed from ideas he himself had formulated and written down before becoming president.
Reagan’s quick wit, his extraordinary ability to distill complicated issues into clear and insightful prose, and his ability to integrate facts and principles into a powerful ideology, showed that he had a fine and capacious mind. But again, he had no interest in correcting the way he was portrayed in the press, believing I think that this was the price of keeping his focus on the large and transformative ideas he hoped would shape the outlook of the American people well beyond his term of office.
Yet every once in a while we were privileged to see what he really knew. In one particularly memorable event when I was at the Treasury Department, we were advised by the White House that the President would finally say something in his Saturday radio address about replenishing the capital of the International Monetary Fund--a matter we in Treasury had been working on unsuccessfully with Congress for several months.
The White House notified us late in the week that the President was going to write the statement himself, and thus that we should only correct factual errors. We did not know what to expect, but doubted that we would see anything particularly helpful, since we knew that no one had briefed him on the issue.
On Friday, the statement came over. It was written in Reagan’s own inimitable hand, and consisted of three paragraphs of lucid prose, factually accurate, aptly describing the issue and explaining why it would be in the interests of all Americans to favor IMF replenishment. There were one or two places where a word had been corrected, but essentially it flowed beautifully as an argument from premise to conclusion.
Needless to say, we had no significant corrections, but it also showed us that Ronald Reagan knew a good deal more than he was given credit for.
Reagan’s governing style--speaking broadly about limiting the role of government, while holding himself aloof from the policy process of his own administration--was mystifying to observers, even sophisticated ones. Writing in 1987, after Reagan had completely changed the direction of American politics, revived the economy, and restored the American spirit, George Reedy, the author of The Twilight of the Presidency and an acclaimed observer of the institution of the presidency, could still refer to Reagan as “someone who could create the illusion of action when not very much is actually going on.” He saw Reagan as nothing more than a caretaker. Someone who just made speeches.
No one seemed to notice that his speeches, which were addressed to the public, also signaled to his administration what the President expected of them. At Treasury, we interpreted the President’s direction broadly: “Don’t just stand there,” we said, “undo something!”
Reagan’s speeches were thus the very instruments with which he governed, at once persuading the public and giving direction to his administration. Yet, so different was this style from what anyone had seen before that a George Reedy, after watching Reagan for seven years, could only see a caretaker.
It was much as Reagan noted at a White House correspondents dinner: “It’s my job to solve the country’s problems and your job to make sure no one finds out about it.”
In person, Reagan the man was just what you’d expect from someone who saw himself as less important than the ideas he espoused. He was graceful, self-deprecating, and respectful of everyone; never arrogant, mean, or dismissive. I never heard him raise his voice to a member of his staff. And, remarkably, he never considered himself particularly special.
One sign of this was his extraordinary concern about keeping people waiting. If a meeting was running over its scheduled time, and there was someone with an appointment waiting in his outer office, you could see him getting anxious; his eyes developed that faraway look that indicated he was searching his memory files for the joke with which he always ended meetings.
Although most people would wait all day if necessary to meet with the President of the United States, Reagan did not see it this way. To him, everyone’s time was important, and he was not so special that he should keep anyone waiting.
It takes a very unusual person to be president for eight years--to have Hail to the Chief played every time you enter a room, to have people stand up in a show of respect and to hang on your every word--and yet never to think of yourself as special.
Despite his refusal to treat his personal success as a valid goal, Reagan’s legacy has been greater than even he might have imagined. By articulating a consistent philosophy about government with which most Americans came to agree, he created the intellectual foundation of today’s ascendant Republican Party.
George W. Bush can talk about the privatization of Social Security, and creating an ownership society, because Ronald Reagan persuaded the American people that economic growth and prosperity was more likely to come from getting the government out of the way than through any government action.
Because his speeches were so effective, he was often referred to as the Great Communicator. But, characteristically, he resisted this formulation. As he said in his farewell speech to the American people: “I was not a great communicator. I just communicated great things.”
We, who live now in a world reconstructed by his ideas, his ideals and his principles, cannot quarrel with this thought; but we can recognize that part of his greatness was simply his refusal to concede it.
As Ronald Reagan would say: Thanks for listening.
Peter J. Wallison is a resident fellow at AEI.
