by Dana Perino
Once I thought that through, I realized he was right. I got up the courage to tell my new bosses I wasn’t going to stay. They were disappointed but they didn’t hold a grudge; in fact, Burson became my first client and I worked as a consultant instead of an employee. That certainly wasn’t the worst outcome.
Risk-taking isn’t supposed to feel comfortable, but trying to protect myself from that discomfort closed my mind to new opportunities. No risk, no reward. If the worst that can happen is that you have to try something else, then there’s really no excuse for not taking a chance.
WHAT DO YOU DO FOR FUN?
Here’s a question you want to be ready to answer: What do you do for fun?
I was asked that in an interview right before we moved up to New York when I was busy building a career after the White House. I said that I exercised with a trainer and that I went to a lot of events for Minute Mentoring. The reporter didn’t think that was good enough. He pressed me—but what do you do for fun? I said, well, I walk my dog. He said that’s not for fun, that’s a responsibility. Do you do anything for fun?
I realized I didn’t have an answer that would satisfy him. I didn’t really do anything just for fun or that didn’t have something to do with work. That was a wake-up call for me, and I vowed to have a better answer the next time I was asked. Now I can say I ride my cruiser bike around my favorite spot in South Carolina, put together dinner parties that aren’t work-related, and watch new TV series without working on my laptop at the same time.
Make sure you have an answer to that question—what do you do for fun?
LOVE IS NOT A CAREER-LIMITING DECISION
In 1997 when I met Peter, we knew within six weeks that we wanted to be together. He proposed to me at the National Cathedral in October 1997, but I stopped him before he could finish. I was only twenty-five years old and not ready to walk away from my dream job in D.C. and move to England, where I couldn’t work.
However, what really held me back was my worry about what my family, friends, and peers would think about my decision. It did seem a little rash—I’d only just met Peter. He was eighteen years older than me and had been married twice. I had a great job and an enviable career track. Everything I’d been told up to then was to keep on the job track so that I kept moving up.
Aside from my career prospects, I worried about getting married too quickly because the relationship might not work out. (I later learned this is not an age-related question, but getting over the fear of a commitment.) Besides, whirlwind romances seemed like something that happened in novels, not in real life. My head and my heart battled it out.
I went home to Colorado and saw a good family friend, Kim Wilkerson. Kim taught the most difficult levels of high school math, coached cheerleading, and organized the prom. She also was the adoptive mom of my biological niece, Jessica. My sister had a baby as a teen, and my family arranged an open adoption with Kim and her husband. It was a very good arrangement, and we stayed close and got together often.
Kim wasn’t shy about her opinions, and her advice was about as subtle as a flying axe head. She asked me what I was waiting for. She thought it was an easy decision and she dismissed my concerns about what other people would think; in fact, she told me that most people are so wrapped up in themselves that they don’t have time to think about me at all (this is true—keep it in mind).
“If you do anything in life, don’t give up on a chance to be loved—he may be the only man who will ever truly love you. Don’t miss it.”
Kim’s advice tipped me into the yes column (sadly she died in an accident a year later in 1999). I made the decision and immediately felt better. When I finally got up the courage to tell everyone I was moving to England to live with Peter, they were thrilled—no one mentioned a single one of my worries. My family and friends had fallen in love with him, too.
Choosing to be loved was the best decision of my life, but I almost talked myself out of it. And it turned out to be the only argument I didn’t mind losing.
CHAPTER 6
Civility, Lost and Found
Five Presidents Walk into the Oval…
This I wasn’t going to miss: five Presidents in the Oval Office together for the first—and perhaps the last—time.
In a few days, President Bush would hand over power to President-elect Obama. The transition had been smooth and was hailed as the most professional in memory. President Bush demanded a much better reception for the Obama Administration than he’d had in 2001 (so out of decency, we left all the O’s on the keyboards).
As part of the welcome, President Bush invited the most exclusive club in the world to have lunch in the private dining room off the Oval Office. Former Presidents Jimmy Carter, Bill Clinton, and George H. W. Bush were there with President Bush and President-elect Obama. President Bush told me that during the lunch, they mostly answered President Obama’s questions about how best to raise his girls in the public eye. He couldn’t have gotten better advice—they all were fathers before they were Presidents.
While the leaders ate, I showed Robert Gibbs, the incoming press secretary, the secret ceremonial flak jacket in the office closet that’s only supposed to be seen by the small fraternity of press secretaries. In the pocket he’d find all the notes written by his predecessors and tied with a red ribbon. I also gave him a couple of my secrets for keeping the workload manageable, like the night note I’d started sending to reporters to ease my mornings. I cautioned him about leaving documents on his desk—there was an open door policy for reporters to just waltz on in anytime they wanted. It was fun to show him around the West Wing, and I was genuinely excited for him and his team—they were about to have the best jobs of their lives.
When the press pool was called in, I grabbed Robert’s arm and dragged him with me into the Oval Office. We tucked in behind the reporters and stood together next to the grandfather clock. To our right was the portrait of Lincoln, filling the space where Presidents traditionally hung the portrait of who they considered the most influential President. Eight years before, President Bush had been torn; his dad had been President, after all. But he told his dad that he hung his portrait in his heart, and Lincoln on the wall. He had a way of solving problems.
I felt nostalgic and patriotic as I looked around. Both President Bushes together in the Oval Office was something special to see. It was unlikely we’d see another father and son both serve as Presidents in our lifetime.
But the main attraction, the historical moment I’ll never forget, was seeing the first black American elected President there with the others. We all felt proud and hopeful. The Presidents smiled for the cameras and seemed at ease with one another, though Carter had placed himself a bit apart from the group, as if he wanted a smidgen of distance or felt a bit uncomfortable.
The five men stood in front of the Resolute desk, which all of the Presidents had used. The desk was made from the planks of an abandoned British Arctic exploratory ship, the HMS Resolute, which had been found by an American naval captain. The ship was restored and returned to Britain in a show of friendship. When it was decommissioned, Queen Victoria had the desk made from its timbers and gave it to America. It is sturdy and solid, just like the relationship between the two countries and the five Presidents, and it is a fixture of the Oval Office.
During media interviews leading up to the transition, I’d convinced 41 and 43 to sit together for a couple of interviews. In the pre-briefs, they’d told me that it had been harder to be the father and the son of a President than it was to be the President (because insults and criticisms of your loved ones were harder to take than what was said about you). I learned over the years that they dealt with those slights by forgiving and separating politics from the personal. The toughest thing they’d been through was 41’s loss to Clinton in 1992 (in fact, President Bush started running after that to deal with the stress—he ran the Houston Marathon two months later in January 1993).
I imagined all the things that 41 had said abo
ut Clinton in that campaign, and the things Clinton had said about 41, and how mad that made 43. Then I thought about the things Obama had said about Bush during Obama’s quick rise from Senator to President (and continued to say even after the election), and then the things that Jimmy Carter had said about all of them… and yet, there they were, standing together for this historic moment, bonded by something untarnished by politics.
The American tradition of Presidential honor, respect, and civility reminds us that there’s a reason our country is known as the greatest nation in history. But Presidents can only do so much, and it’s up to us not to let those traditions die.
The Heart of the Problem
For a country so blessed, America sure can argue a lot. We’ve gone from being the confident leader of the free world to bickering about every living thing under the sun. Record numbers of Americans have no trust in the government at all, and the two political parties are so dug in that we can barely agree on a Mother’s Day Resolution. In many ways, despite great strides of unity, we are now more divided than ever. A decline of civility is at the heart of the problem.
Why is this happening? As the government gets bigger and less effective, people feel as if they don’t have any power, and that breeds frustration. Washington has been dining out on taxpayer money and clinging to special interests, and the government is frequently less responsive to taxpayers. The stakes keep getting higher, and no one meets the public’s expectations. Contempt for each other further erodes our ability to solve any problems. And then, a devolving blame game begins and we lose more civility. For many people, the country feels all but lost.
The fights between Republicans and Democrats are somewhat expected, though the rhetoric is depressingly caustic. It’s the intra-party fights that are even more debilitating, especially for Republicans. I’ve always liked the Republican Big Tent approach, and I think it has served us well as a party—we could have big debates within the tent, but we all knew that it was safe under there. I was taught that we don’t shoot inside the tent, but not everyone shares that philosophy (with friends like these…). The more time Republicans spend fighting other Republicans, the more damage we do to the Republican brand. If we believe that the conservative approach to governing is superior, then we ought to act like it. I appreciate that conservatives often march to a different drummer (while the Left walks in lockstep), but we’re off by half a beat. It’s time to get back on the right foot.
An entire book could be written about who’s to blame for the loss of civility (the President, the Congress, cable news and talk radio, labor unions, academia, Hollywood… need I go on?), and we could argue about that until the cows come home. The only thing we might be able to agree on is the need to restore civility to public debates. Without some basic manners, we’re doomed. There’s no hope of reaching agreement if we can’t even talk to each other.
Before I go any further, I am aware that some people may say that I’m part of the problem—or if not me specifically, then cable news and talk radio. I think that’s a fair criticism, and it’s something I’ve thought about a lot. I recognize there are a few over-the-line communicators (from both ends of the ideological spectrum), and while that’s not my style, there’s a reason a lot of shows are successful—they’re not boring and they keep people coming back. Quiet and cable don’t necessarily mix—no one wants to watch paint dry. Cable news revolutionized the industry and gave an outlet to millions of viewers with interest in news and politics that they weren’t getting elsewhere. Instead of being monolithic, the number of choices is staggering. It’s a competitive business.
While I like the reputation I’ve gained for being a “voice of reason,” some of my critics don’t like it. I take a fair amount of heat about civility—but it comes from my right, not from liberals. Believe it or not, conservatives are harsher on one another than they are on their opponents. That’s okay—it makes us smarter and better at what we do. The beef that some people have with me is that they think I’m too nice, reserved, and vanilla. They want more spice, spunk, outrage, and bite—they want me to go for the jugular. They point out that being nice and seeking bipartisanship have gotten us nowhere and that we just need to tell it like it is. Fair points, and I don’t confuse civility with timidity or passivity.
What I try to point out is that as a Republican, I see our biggest threat as wishful thinking; the second as other Republicans; and the third as Democrats. In fact, I rather like a passionate argument that is well-made. And I get more satisfaction out of winning based on persuasion than name-calling. And to me it’s the name-calling that’s at the heart of the incivility that is bringing down political discourse (from the right and the left).
Just as civility doesn’t mean shrinking from an argument, it also doesn’t have to mean “you must agree with me.” To the contrary, being civil means that we can argue vehemently and then either find some compromise, call it a tie, or move on to something else. For a long time both sides have felt berated into agreeing with the other side—whether it be the Iraq War or Obamacare. If you disagreed, you were demonized. That’s unfair and misses the benefits of having a variety of opinions. As Pete Wehner, a former colleague who is now with the Ethics and Public Policy Center, wrote in an essay about civility in 2010, “Civility does not preclude spirited debate or confrontation. Clashing arguments are often clarifying arguments.” We should want more, not less, of this approach to debates.
I think that the best way to be respectful of someone else’s point of view is to keep in mind your opponent’s intentions—often the end goal is the same (better education, safer streets, more jobs), it’s just the method to get there that’s in question. So if you don’t start off by thinking the opposition is evil, but that they want to get to the same place you do, then you’re already on your way to having a more civil and productive conversation.
It’s incumbent upon all of us to learn how someone with a different view would think—it’s not only polite, but it also can help you win an argument. Use their words to help them come to your way of thinking—I do it to Beckel all the time! And believe it or not, he’s come around on some issues.
The scathing language used by many of our elected leaders, candidate hopefuls, and political pundits is beneath them. When did public service turn into a bad episode of Real Housewives?
Americans understand that Congress is meant for debate and argumentation. But what bothers them is that it seems that elected leaders can’t get along at all. Hateful comments have become normal in Washington, and that’s made for some of our greatest disappointments. In their personal lives and businesses, average Americans have to work with people they don’t necessarily agree with all the time—but they can set that aside, be constructive, and get results. So, they ask, why can’t Members of Congress do the same?
Something has changed in Washington, D.C. Political leaders who used to be held in high regard are now so desperate for attention in a crowded media world that they continually let themselves and their country down by making uncivil and outrageous comments about one another. This has degraded the entire institution. The more hateful the personal attacks get, the more difficult it is to work together. I know that members of Congress used to solve political disputes with pistols on the streets; in the modern world we don’t use guns to solve debates, we shoot off different weapons—our mouths.
During the second term of the Bush Administration, the nature of the attacks on President Bush shocked us in the White House—especially when they came from Democratic Congressional leadership. They said things about a President that had not been said before and rarely said in polite company, like “liar” and “loser.” And whereas political put-downs used to be thinly veiled insults, these new attacks were crass and undignified.
One could admire the skill and humor certain politicians displayed in criticizing their opponents; today the rhetoric has sunk to the level of schoolyard name-calling. A fine example was when Governor Ann Richards at the Democrati
c Convention of 1988 tried to frame Vice President George H. W. Bush as an elitist: “Poor George. He was born with a silver foot in his mouth.” She made her point and she made people laugh. Even the Vice President chuckled. I miss the days of witty political insults. By the time I was press secretary, the language had coarsened, and I balked at responding to the baser comments, and too often I was saying, “I won’t dignify that comment with a response.” But at some point, if your opponent is doing all of the attacking and you’re constantly ducking, you end up with a bruised and battered boss.
It could be just my perspective, but it seems that a tactless comment from a conservative is sure to draw more outrage than something a liberal says. Conservatives spend an inordinate amount of time trying to defend or distance themselves from what another conservative has said or done. Liberals don’t seem to feel that they own every other liberal’s comments. I almost admire that—they just move on as if nothing was ever said and flip the attack back onto Republicans. It’s masterful and maddening.
Let’s take my favorite example of the worst offender: Senate Minority Leader Harry Reid. It is astounding the things that he has said—mostly about, but not only to, his political opponents. He regularly calls people liars, losers, anarchists, and radicals. He makes up stories like the one about Mitt Romney not paying his taxes, rails on others for their political views and wealth (the Koch brothers), and says they are “un-American.” He called Republicans his enemies and cowards, questions their integrity, and labeled Sen. John McCain an “old snake-oil salesman.” He even told President Bush that his dog Barney was fat!
And these are things said in public, in front of the press, often at a microphone. He doesn’t limit his insults to Republicans, however. He called a reporter a sleazeball (I almost let him off on that one) and said that D.C. tourists stink. The list goes on and on. But this was as the Majority Leader of the United States Senate. This should be unacceptable. America deserves better, and our policy debates are way too important to allow him to demonize everyone. I’m surprised (okay, not really) that no one in his party raises a hand to say, “Stop!” There are many reasons that citizens have such a low opinion of the Congress, and I’d wager that Harry Reid is a major cause of that. His comments are inexcusable and should be condemned.