What They Wore to the War

By G. Pascal Zachary, In These Times. Posted January 14, 2003.

In page after dreadful page of his latest book, "Bush at War," Bob Woodward demonstrates an old adage about journalism in wartime: The first casualty is truth. Purporting to get inside the minds of President George W. Bush and his closest associates--and to tell us the ultimate truths about the "war on terrorism"--Woodward instead creates a clever fiction that obscures truth and elevates myth to the status of revelation.

Woodward's betrayal of his journalistic duty--so common these days among his colleagues--would be ordinary and unworthy of comment were it not for his status as the dean of American investigative reporters. Woodward is an icon, and he remains influential, admired across the political spectrum, for his tenacity and stubborn empiricism. The touchstone of his greatness is clear: As a cub reporter in the '70s, Woodward helped bring down President Nixon by exposing in the Washington Post the web of deceit and intrigue that lay behind a bungled burglary of a Democratic Party office in Washington's Watergate hotel.

The media establishment repeatedly dismissed Watergate as irrelevant. But Woodward, along with his co-reporter Carl Bernstein and legendary Post editor Ben Bradlee, resisted pressure to abandon their investigation, overcoming skepticism even from within their own newsroom.

Watergate made Woodward a star; Robert Redford even played him in a hit movie. While he remained at the Post as a reporter and editor, Woodward gradually acceded to the pressure of his own reputation. To bolster his journalistic "brand" as a scoopmeister, he gradually turned from hard-hitting exposure to titillating gossip. Woodward married his reportage to a crass form of literary journalism, revealing powerful figures by getting inside their heads. At first mildly critical, these stream-of-consciousness accounts (for example, "Veil: The Secret Wars of the CIA: 1981-1987" or "The Commanders," about the invasion of Panama) turned increasingly fawning.

By the time Woodward published an account in 2000 of Federal Reserve Chairman Alan Greenspan, his apotheosis from muckraker to cheerleader was complete. "Maestro: Greenspan's Fed and the American Boom" appeared almost simultaneously with the collapse of the Internet bubble and the outbreak of global economic crisis. Both developments threaten to ruin Greenspan's reputation for economic wisdom--and highlight the reinvention of Woodward as publicist.

In "Bush at War," Woodward again shows his flair for public relations. Woodward makes much of his sources, boasting of an "inside account, largely the story as the insiders saw it, heard it and lived it." This "inside" account relies chiefly on self-serving recollections of the chief participants (Bush, Vice President Dick Cheney, Defense Secretary Donald Rumsfeld, Secretary of State Colin Powell and National Security Adviser Condoleeza Rice) and sanitized transcripts of meetings in which the main players sound like they're playing to a televised audience rather than speaking to each other.

"I'm doing a press conference tonight," Bush declares at the start of one meeting, according to Woodward. After descriptions of dozens of similar set pieces, Woodward comments that Bush in his private meetings does seem to be speaking in media-bites rather than to his comrades, which suggests that he should have titled his book "Bush at Meetings." Woodward is more likely to tell us what the president is wearing, or who is present (or absent) at meetings, than tackle the big questions that remain unanswered about September 11 and the official U.S. reaction.

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