It doesn’t happen often, but once in a while, the president doesn’t realize he’s in front of a live microphone — and he says a few interesting things.
In September 2000, for example, then-Gov. Bush didn’t know he speaking in front of a live microphone when he told Dick Cheney, “There’s Adam Clymer, major league asshole from the New York Times.” (Cheney’s famous response, “Big time.”)
Several months later, shortly after he was inaugurated, the president met with a group of Roman Catholic bishops in the White House to tout his support for the “the Mexico City” policy, which bans federal aid to family planning groups that offer abortion counseling. (It got its name because Ronald Reagan launched the ban in Mexico City in 1984.) Bush, anxious to show his support for issues of direct concern to the church, didn’t know that a live microphone was piping his remarks directly into the White House press room.
The president had just signed an executive order on the policy, literally just days prior to speaking to the bishops, but he struggled to explain his position. Bush ended up bragging about “the money from Mexico, you know, that thing, the executive order I signed about Mexico City.” The nonsensical comments were a subtle hint, early on his presidency, about Bush’s not-quite-towering intellect.
Yesterday, the open-mike problem happened to Bush again, though the consequences weren’t nearly as entertaining.
Before beginning a question-and-answer session with House Republicans at their retreat in Cambridge, Md., President Bush wanted to ensure that reporters did not get wind of any of the discussion — even if he had his doubts.
“First of all, I expect this conversation we’re about to have to stay in the room,” he told the House Republican Caucus, gathered at a resort on the Eastern Shore. “I know that it’s impossible in Washington.”
Little did the president know that his comments were being broadcast to reporters in a nearby room via a microphone that was inadvertently left open. Before beginning his 100-minute session with lawmakers, Bush had delivered six minutes of remarks before playfully inviting reporters to leave. “I support the free press — let’s just get them out of the room,” Bush joked as reporters were ushered out.
The open mike, which was soon discovered, provided no scoops: Bush defended his warrantless eavesdropping program exactly as he has in numerous public appearances, calling it an essential method of protecting the nation against potential terrorists.
There weren’t any startling revelations, but I think this might be more interesting than it seems.
There’s a classic Saturday Night Live skit from the 1980s featuring Ronald Reagan as a simple, quiet man in public, masking an adept technocrat with a vast policy expertise and an eye for remarkable detail. The “amiable dunce” facade was just an act.
Similarly, political observers sometimes wonder if Bush is sharper and more adroit than he seems in public. The president manages expectations by playing simple, the theory goes, but behind closed doors, a skillful and adept leader emerges.
Incidents like this one suggest this is clearly not the case. Bush has struggled to explain why he has the authority to circumvent the law and conduct domestic warrantless searches, so when reporters were ushered out of the room, only to discover that they could hear Bush give Republican lawmakers his personal take on the controversy, reporters’ hearts probably skipped a beat. Finally, they thought, an unvarnished, no-spin take on what the president says behind closed doors when he thinks he’s just among like-minded friends.
But guess what — that Bush is the same Bush we see all the time. He has his talking points, which he’ll repeat no matter who’s in the audience, and precious little else to say.
The amiable-dunce act, unfortunately, is genuine.