The nature of history is that we know the consequences only of the action we took. But inaction would have had consequences, too. Imagine what the world would look like today with Saddam Hussein still ruling Iraq. He would still be threatening his neighbors, sponsoring terror, and piling bodies into mass graves. The rising price of oil—which jumped from just over $30 a barrel in 2003 to almost $140 five years later—would have left Saddam awash in wealth. The sanctions, already falling apart, almost certainly would have crumbled. Saddam still had the infrastructure and know-how to make WMD. And as the final weapons inspections report by Charles Duelfer concluded, “Saddam wanted to re-create Iraq’s WMD capability … after sanctions were removed and Iraq’s economy stabilized.”
Had Saddam followed through on that intention, the world would likely have witnessed a nuclear arms race between Iraq and Iran. Saddam could have turned to Sunni terrorist groups like al Qaeda—a marriage of convenience, not ideology—as surrogates in an attempt to match Iran’s use of Shia terrorist groups like Hezbollah. The chance of biological, chemical, or nuclear weapons falling into the hands of terrorists would have increased. The pressure on our friends in the region—especially Israel, Kuwait, Saudi Arabia, and the United Arab Emirates—would have been intense. And the American people would be much less secure today.
Instead, as a result of our actions in Iraq, one of America’s most committed and dangerous enemies stopped threatening us forever. The most volatile region in the world lost one of its greatest sources of violence and mayhem. Hostile nations around the world saw the cost of supporting terror and pursuing WMD. And in the space of nine months, twenty-five million Iraqis went from living under a dictatorship of fear to seeing the prospect of a peaceful, functioning democracy. In December 2003, the Iraqis were still a long way from that dream. But they had a chance, and that was a lot more than they’d had before.
The hardest days of the war were still ahead. In January 2004, our troops intercepted a letter from Zarqawi to senior al Qaeda leaders. He wrote about the growing pressure he was feeling and laid out his plan for survival. “We need to bring the Shia into the battle,” he wrote, “because it is the only way to prolong the duration of the fight between the infidels and us.” He set a new goal for the jihadists in Iraq—igniting “a sectarian war.”
*The Shia, a Muslim sect, make up about 60 percent of Iraq’s population. Kurds, who are mostly Muslim but identify primarily by their ethnic group, comprise about 20 percent. Sunni Arabs, the Muslim sect that enjoyed privileged status under Saddam, account for 15 percent. Christians, Yezidis, Mandaeans, Jews, and others make up the rest.
**At the same ceremony, I presented the Medal of Freedom to Prime Minister John Howard of Australia, who I called a “man of steel,” and to President Alvaro Uribe, the courageous leader of Colombia.
***Tragically, Lieutenant Commander Zellem died in a training accident in 2004.
onight in this hall, we resolve to be the party not of repose but of reform. We will write not footnotes but chapters in the American story. We will add the work of our hands to the inheritance of our fathers and mothers and leave this nation greater than we found it. … If you give me your trust, I will honor it. Grant me a mandate, I will use it. Give me the opportunity to lead this nation, and I will lead.”
I meant the words I spoke at the Republican National Convention in 2000. When I entered politics, I made a decision: I would confront problems, not pass them on to future generations. I admired presidents who used their time in office to enact transformative change. I had studied Theodore Roosevelt, who served in the White House almost exactly a century before me. He had taken on the financial trusts, built a powerful Navy, and launched the conservation movement. I also learned from Ronald Reagan, who combined an optimistic demeanor with the moral clarity and conviction to cut taxes, strengthen the military, and face down the Soviet Union despite withering criticism throughout his presidency.
One of the lessons I took from Roosevelt and Reagan was to lead the public, not chase the opinion polls. I decided to push for sweeping reforms, not tinker with the status quo. As I told my advisers, “I didn’t take this job to play small ball.”
Two weeks after we moved into the White House, Laura and I held our first movie night in the Family Theater. Situated on the ground floor of the White House, the theater features forty-six comfortable chairs and a ninety-three-square-foot projection screen. The Motion Picture Association of America, led for years by a fascinating Texan, Jack Valenti, generously made movies available to the first family. We never had to sit through coming attractions.
For our first screening, Laura and I chose Thirteen Days, about President Kennedy’s handling of the Cuban Missile Crisis. The movie was a fitting choice for our guest of honor, Senator Ted Kennedy of Massachusetts.
On the surface, Ted and I didn’t have a whole lot in common. He was liberal; I was conservative. He grew up on Cape Cod; I was raised in West Texas. He had spent almost forty years on Capitol Hill; I was relatively new to town.
With Senator Ted Kennedy in early 2001. White House/Eric Draper
Ted and I did share what Laura called the family business. My grandfather Prescott Bush had represented Connecticut in the Senate at the same time John F. Kennedy had represented Massachusetts. Laura and I enjoyed meeting Ted’s wife, Vicki; son Patrick, a congressman from Rhode Island; and niece Kathleen Kennedy Townsend, the lieutenant governor of Maryland, along with her daughter Kate.
Ted was friendly, gracious, and full of life. He had the trademark Kennedy accent and a great Irish glow. His smile came easily and often gave way to a big, warm laugh. I felt a connection to history as we watched a movie about how his brothers had defused a crisis from the West Wing.
The movie hadn’t been my only purpose for inviting Ted. He was the ranking Democrat on the Senate committee that drafted education legislation. He had sent signals that he was interested in my school reform proposal, No Child Left Behind.
Ted and I were both appalled by the results coming from our public schools. In the competitive global economy, good jobs demanded knowledge and skills. But American students routinely trailed their peers in key subjects. On an international math test comparing twenty-one countries, America’s high school seniors placed ahead of only Cyprus and South Africa.
Part of the problem was that millions of children were shuffled from one grade to the next without anybody asking what they had learned. Many came from poor and minority backgrounds. In 2000, nearly 70 percent of fourth-graders from high-poverty backgrounds couldn’t read at grade level. Some 40 percent of minority students failed to finish high school in four years. How could a society that promised equal opportunity for all quit on its neediest citizens? Starting in the 2000 campaign I had called the problem “the soft bigotry of low expectations.” I had promised to take on the big issues. This was sure one of them.
In recent years, the national education debate had bogged down in modest proposals like school uniforms and unrealistic calls to abolish the Department of Education. Success was often defined by dollars spent, not results achieved. I had come from a world where accountability was a daily reality. In baseball, any interested party can open the newspaper, analyze your performance in a box score, and demand change. “More pitching, Bush!” was a familiar refrain. Education was a lot more important than baseball, yet most people had no idea how their schools were performing.