Decision Points Part 18

Ultimately, Medicare modernization was a tradeoff. We created a needed new benefit but spent more money than I wanted. We introduced market-based compet.i.tion among private drug plans, but we were unable to use the new benefit as leverage to move more seniors from government-run Medicare to private Medicare Advantage plans. We created health savings accounts, but we could not convince Congress to require government-run Medicare to compete on a level playing field with private plans.

By the time I left office, more than 90 percent of Medicare beneficiaries had coverage for prescription drugs. Ten million were enrolled in private-sector health-care plans through Medicare Advantage. Almost seven million Americans owned health savings accounts, more than a third of whom had not previously owned health insurance.

Thanks to compet.i.tion between private-sector plans, the average monthly premium for prescription drug coverage dropped from an initial estimate of $35 to $23 the first year. By 2008, the initial estimate of $634 billion had dropped below $400 billion. The Medicare prescription drug benefit became one of the few government programs ever to come in well under budget. Market forces had worked. And we had moved America's health care system in the right direction: away from government control and toward the choices and compet.i.tion of a private market system, which is the best way to control costs in the long run.

"I'm optimistic," I told Dad as we hunted quail in South Texas on New Year's Day, 2004. "This election is going to come down to who knows how to lead, who will take on the big issues, and who can keep America safe."

Dad was concerned. For months, he had watched the Democratic presidential candidates take swings at me every day. The poundings were having an impact. My approval ratings had topped 90 percent after 9/11 and 75 percent after the liberation of Iraq. By the end of 2003, I had dropped to the fifties in some polls. Dad had seen the pattern before. His approval rating had skyrocketed in 1991, then crashed before the 1992 election.

I a.s.sured him that our mutual friend Karl Rove had developed a solid campaign strategy. "If we do this right, it will come out just fine," I said. "Especially if they nominate Howard Dean Howard Dean."

I knew the Democratic front-runner, the former governor of Vermont, from events we had attended in the 1990s. Dean was loud, shrill, and undisciplined. I was pulling hard for him to get the nomination.

Unfortunately, Dean's lead evaporated before he won a single delegate. Senator John Kerry of Ma.s.sachusetts claimed an upset victory in Iowa, won the New Hampshire primary, and cruised to the nomination. A Vietnam veteran and four-term senator, Kerry was a hard worker, a polished debater, and a tough campaigner. I considered him a formidable opponent.

Kerry also had weaknesses. He had the process-oriented mindset of a longtime legislator and a voting record that qualified as the most liberal in the Senate. In the fall of 2003, he had voted against an $87 billion bill to fund troops in Iraq and Afghanistan. Shortly after he clinched the nomination, my campaign ran an ad highlighting his position. Kerry responded, "I actually did vote for the $87 billion before I voted against it."

I spoke to Karl the moment I heard the sound bite. "There's our opening," I said. "The American people expect their president to take a clear stand and defend it, especially when it comes to supporting troops in combat." We grabbed the "flip-flop" theme and ran with it for the rest of the campaign.

On March 10, 2004, I received a letter from Jenna, who was in her senior year at the University of Texas. In 2000, neither Jenna nor Barbara had attended a single campaign event. They had made it clear they wanted nothing to do with politics. So it was quite a surprise to read Jenna's words: Dear Dad,I had a vivid dream last night, a dream so vivid I woke in tears. Although I am not yet as spiritual as you, I have taken this dream as a sign. You have worked your entire life to give Barbara and me everything we have ever wanted or needed. You have given us love, support; and I know you have included us in every decision you have ever made.You and Mom have taught us the meaning of unconditional love. I watched as Mom selflessly, gently gave herself to Pa as he suffered. And I watched you give a year of your life to Gampy; I watched your shared pain on election night. At age twenty-two, I finally have learned what that selfless pain must have felt like.I hate hearing lies about you. I hate when people criticize you. I hate that everybody can't see the person I love and respect, the person that I hope I someday will be like.It is because of all of these reasons that I have decided that if you want me to I would love to work full-time for you in the fall. Please think about it, talk to Mom about it, and get back to me. For now I have stopped applying for jobs in New York. I know I may be a little rough around the edges, but with the proper training I could get people to see the Dad I love.This may seem like a rushed, impulsive decision, but I have been thinking about it constantly. I want to try to give you something for the twenty-two years you have given me.In my dream, I didn't help you. And I watched somebody win who isn't supposed to. And I cried, I cried for you, for our country, and for my guilt. I don't want my dream to become reality, so if I can help in any way please let me. We can talk more about it during Easter.I love you and am so proud of you,Love,Jenna I still choke up when I read her sweet words, which also reflected Barbara's sentiments. I was thrilled they wanted to join the campaign. My last campaign would be their first.

The first event Barbara and I attended together was a rally in front of eleven thousand people in Marquette, Michigan, an Upper Peninsula town that hadn't seen a visit from a sitting president since William Howard Taft. Just before I gave my speech, Barbara took her seat in the front row behind the podium.

The announcer introduced me, and the audience roared. As I stepped up to the microphone, I turned to look at Barbara. She had tears streaming down her face. After four years on a college campus, she was surprised and touched to see such enthusiastic support for her dad. It reminded me of the feeling I had when I first heard a crowd cheer for my father. The circle was complete.

Heading out on the campaign trail with Barbara. White House/Tina Hager White House/Tina Hager

In some ways, the 2004 campaign was easier than 2000. I benefited from the trappings of the presidency, especially Air Force One and Marine One. In another way, 2004 was tougher. I was both candidate and president. I had to strike a balance between the two.

I drew energy from the people around me, especially Laura and the girls. I loved our bus tours through the Midwest, where thousands of citizens lined the main streets of small towns. One day in Wisconsin we rolled through the hometown of d.i.c.k Tubb d.i.c.k Tubb, the mult.i.talented Air Force doctor who traveled everywhere with me. I saw a handpainted sign that read "Welcome Home, Dr. Tubb!" Underneath, in smaller print, the person had added, "You Too, George W."

On the road, July 2004. White House/Eric Draper White House/Eric Draper Nothing buoyed my spirits like our supporters on the campaign trail. I was energized by their intensity, and their dedication inspired me to work harder so that I would not let them down. In the 16,500-person town of Poplar Bluff, Missouri, 23,000 people turned out for a speech. In the township of West Chester, Ohio, 41,000 people packed Voice of America Park. As I outlined John Kerry's shifting positions, a sea of arms swayed left and right amid a chant of "Flip-Flop, Flip-Flop." Some people came dressed as human-size flip-flops. I encountered new groups, including Barristers for Bush, Buckeyes for Bush, and Barbara and Jenna's favorite, Twins for Bush.

Speaking here in Troy, Ohio. White House/Paul Morse White House/Paul Morse I was especially encouraged by signs that read "G.o.d Bless You." As I shook hands and posed for photos on the rope line, I was amazed by the number who said the same four words: "I pray for you." I told them their prayers were a wonderful gift. They gave me strength. Seeing those voters also gave me hope that some Bush supporters who stayed home after the DUI revelation in 2000 would come back to the polls in 2004.

John Kerry had intense supporters of his own. Hollywood filmmaker Michael Moore Michael Moore came out with a so-called doc.u.mentary that was nothing more than campaign propaganda. In return, Kerry said that Hollywood entertainers conveyed "the heart and soul of our country." Wealthy donors like investment mogul came out with a so-called doc.u.mentary that was nothing more than campaign propaganda. In return, Kerry said that Hollywood entertainers conveyed "the heart and soul of our country." Wealthy donors like investment mogul George Soros George Soros gave Kerry huge amounts of money through 527s, fundraising organizations that circ.u.mvented the campaign finance laws so many Democrats had championed. gave Kerry huge amounts of money through 527s, fundraising organizations that circ.u.mvented the campaign finance laws so many Democrats had championed.**** Renegade staffers at the CIA leaked information intended to embarra.s.s the administration. The a.s.sault culminated in Renegade staffers at the CIA leaked information intended to embarra.s.s the administration. The a.s.sault culminated in Dan Rather Dan Rather's false report, based on forged doc.u.ments, that I had not fulfilled my duties in the Texas Air National Guard.

While the media was eager to scrutinize my military service, their appet.i.te was noticeably less ravenous when Kerry's came into question. In February 2004, I sat down for an hour-long, one-on-one interview with Tim Russert Tim Russert. After grilling me mainly on Iraq, he pushed me on whether I would make all my military records available to the public. I promised I would. Soon after, I instructed the Defense Department to release every doc.u.ment related to my Guard service.

"You did yourself some good today, Mr. President," Tim said after the cameras went dark.

"Thanks, Tim," I said. "By the way, I sure hope you will be as tough on John Kerry about his military records as you were on me."

"Oh, believe me," he said, "we will."

Tim interviewed John Kerry two months later, and he did ask about the military records. Kerry promised to release them to the public during the campaign, but he never did.

At the Democratic National Convention in Boston, Kerry invited former shipmates and accepted the nomination with a salute. "I'm John Kerry, and I'm reporting for duty," he declared in his opening line. His speech called for "telling the truth to the American people" and promised he would "be a commander in chief who will never mislead us into war."

Kerry's argument that I had misled the country on Iraq didn't pa.s.s the commonsense test. As a member of the Senate in 2002, he had access to the same intelligence I did and decided to cast his vote in support of the war resolution.

Kerry had trapped himself in a contradiction. "My opponent hasn't answered the question of whether, knowing what we know now, he would have supported going into Iraq," I said at a campaign stop in New Hampshire. A few days later, standing on the rim of the Grand Canyon, Kerry took the bait. "Yes," he said, "I would have voted for the authority."

It was a stunning admission. After using the grand stage of his convention to charge that I had misled America into war-one of the most serious allegations anyone can level at a commander in chief-John Kerry said he would vote to authorize the war again if he had the chance.

Making the case against Kerry was important, but it was even more important to show voters that I would continue to lead on the big issues. I had seen inc.u.mbents like Ann Richards run backward-looking campaigns, and I vowed not to repeat their mistake. "The only reason to look back in a campaign is to determine who best to lead us forward," I said. "Even though we've done a lot, I'm here to tell you there's more to do."

At the Republican National Convention Republican National Convention in New York, and in speeches across the country, I laid out an ambitious second-term agenda. I pledged to modernize Social Security, reform the immigration system, and overhaul the tax code, while continuing No Child Left Behind and the faith-based initiative, implementing Medicare reform, and above all, fighting the war on terror. in New York, and in speeches across the country, I laid out an ambitious second-term agenda. I pledged to modernize Social Security, reform the immigration system, and overhaul the tax code, while continuing No Child Left Behind and the faith-based initiative, implementing Medicare reform, and above all, fighting the war on terror.

Taking the stage with Laura at the 2004 Republican National Convention. White House/Joyce Naltchayan White House/Joyce Naltchayan I crisscrossed the country throughout the fall, with interruptions for each of the three debates debates. The first was held at the University of Miami. Debating was a strong suit for John Kerry. Like a prizefighter, he charged out of his corner and punched furiously after every question. It was an effective technique. I spent too much time trying to sort through which of his many attacks to answer.

I did land one roundhouse. When Kerry suggested that American military action should be subject to a "global test," I countered, "I'm not exactly sure what you mean, 'pa.s.ses the global test'...My att.i.tude is you take preemptive action in order to protect the American people."

On the car ride to the post-debate rally, I received a phone call from Karen Hughes Karen Hughes. She told me the networks had broadcast split-screen images showing my facial expressions while Kerry was speaking. Apparently I hadn't done a very good job of disguising my opinion of his answers. Just as Al Gore Al Gore's sighs dominated the coverage of the first debate in 2000, my scowls became the story in 2004. I thought it was unfair both times.

An even stranger story unfolded a few days later, when a photograph from the debate surfaced. It showed a wrinkle down the back of my suit. Somebody came up with the idea that the crease was actually a hidden radio connected to Karl Rove. The rumor flew around the Internet and became a sensation among conspiracy theorists. It was an early taste of a twenty-first-century phenomenon: the political bloggers. In retrospect, it's too bad I didn't have a radio, so Karl could have told me to quit grimacing.

The second and third debates went better. My face was calm, my suit was pressed, and I was better prepared to counter Kerry's jabs. But as is usually the case in presidential debates, the most damaging blow was self-inflicted. At our final debate in Tempe, moderator Bob Schieffer Bob Schieffer raised the topic of same-s.e.x marriage and asked, "Do you believe h.o.m.os.e.xuality is a choice?" raised the topic of same-s.e.x marriage and asked, "Do you believe h.o.m.os.e.xuality is a choice?"

"I just don't know," I said. "I do know that we have a choice to make in America, and that is to treat people with tolerance and respect and dignity." I then expressed my conviction that marriage is between a man and a woman, and said the law should reflect that time-honored truth.

Kerry, who also opposed same-s.e.x marriage, began his answer, "We're all G.o.d's children, Bob, and I think if you were to talk to d.i.c.k Cheney's daughter, who is a lesbian, she would tell you that she's being who she was, she's being who she was born as."

I glanced at Laura, Barbara, and Jenna in the front row. I could see the shock on their faces. Karen Hughes later told me she heard audible gasps. There is an unwritten rule in American politics that a candidate's children are off-limits. For John Kerry to raise my running mate's daughter's s.e.xuality in a nationally televised debate was appalling.

It was not unprecedented. In the vice presidential debate a week earlier, Kerry's running mate, North Carolina Senator John Edwards John Edwards, also found a way to bring up the issue. One reference might have been an accident. Two was a plot. Kerry and Edwards were hoping to peel off conservative voters who objected to d.i.c.k's daughter's orientation. Instead, they came across looking cynical and mean. Lynne Cheney Lynne Cheney spoke for a lot of us when she called it a "cheap and tawdry political trick." spoke for a lot of us when she called it a "cheap and tawdry political trick."

In 2000, our October Surprise had come in the form of the DUI revelation. In 2004, it came from Osama bin Laden Osama bin Laden. On October 29, the alQaeda leader released a videotape threatening Americans with "another Manhattan" and mocking my response to 9/11 in the Florida cla.s.sroom. It sounded like he was plagiarizing Michael Moore Michael Moore. "Americans will not be intimidated or influenced by an enemy of our country," I said. John Kerry made a similar statement of resolve.

The final election day election day of my political career, November 2, 2004, began aboard Marine One, on a midnight flight from Dallas to the ranch. We had just finished an emotional rally with eight thousand supporters at Southern Methodist University, Laura's alma mater-my seventh stop on a daylong, 2,500-mile blitz across the country. of my political career, November 2, 2004, began aboard Marine One, on a midnight flight from Dallas to the ranch. We had just finished an emotional rally with eight thousand supporters at Southern Methodist University, Laura's alma mater-my seventh stop on a daylong, 2,500-mile blitz across the country.

Laura, Barbara, Jenna, and I were up at dawn the next day. We eagerly cast our ballots at the Crawford firehouse, four solid votes in the Bush-Cheney column. "I trust the judgment of the American people," I told the a.s.sembled reporters. "My hope, of course, is that this election ends tonight."

I checked in with brother Jeb. "Florida is looking good, George," the governor said.

Then I spoke to Karl. He was a little worried about Ohio, so off we went for my twentieth campaign stop in the Buckeye State. After thanking the volunteers and working a phone bank in Columbus, we loaded up for the flight to D.C.

As the plane descended toward Andrews Air Force Base, Karl came to the front cabin. The first round of exit polls had arrived.

"They're dreadful," he said.

I felt like he had just punched me in the stomach. I was down more than twenty points in the battleground state of Pennsylvania. Rock-solid Republican states like Mississippi and South Carolina were too close to call. If the numbers were right, I would suffer a landslide defeat.

I walked from the airplane to Marine One in a daze. The ten-minute flight to the White House felt like hours. Finally the wheels of the chopper hit the South Lawn. The press corps swarmed to get a good shot for the evening news. Karen Hughes Karen Hughes had good advice: "Everybody smile!" had good advice: "Everybody smile!"

Exiting Marine One on Election Day 2004. We'd just received exit polls showing I would lose badly. White House/Paul Morse White House/Paul Morse I went upstairs to the residence and moped around the Treaty Room. I just couldn't believe it. After all the hard work of the past four years, and all the grueling months on the campaign trail, I was going to be voted out of office decisively. I knew life would go on, as it had for Dad. But the rejection was going to sting.

Before long, Karl called. He had been crunching the numbers and was convinced that the methodology was flawed. I felt relieved and angry at the same time. I worried that the bogus numbers would demoralize our supporters and depress turnout in time zones where the polling places were still open. We were thinking the same thing: Here we go again. Here we go again.

For the second time in four years, Karl Rove disproved the exit polls. My close friends Don Evans and Brad Freeman look on and Andy works the phones in the State Dining Room. White House/Eric Draper White House/Eric Draper At 8:00 p.m., the polls in Florida closed. As Jeb predicted that morning, the early returns looked promising. The exit poll results in South Carolina and Mississippi were quickly contradicted by solid victories in both states. The rest of the East Coast came in as expected. The outcome would turn on four states: Iowa, New Mexico, Nevada, and Ohio. Ken Mehlman Ken Mehlman, my brilliant campaign manager who had organized a historic effort to turn out the vote, was confident we had won all four states. Each had been called in our favor by at least one news network. But after the fiasco of 2000, no network wanted to be the first to put me over the top.

The focus was Ohio, with its 20 electoral votes. I held a solid lead of more than 120,000 votes. The clock struck midnight, one o'clock, two o'clock. At around 2:45, I took a phone call from Tony Blair Tony Blair. He told me he had gone to bed in London thinking I had lost and was prepared to deal with President Kerry. "Not only did you win, George," he said, "you got more votes than any president in history."

"If only the Kerry campaign would recognize that," I replied. "I haven't been up this late since college!"

At around four o'clock, we started hearing rumors that Kerry and Edwards planned to file a lawsuit contesting the vote in Ohio. In another replay of 2000, several advisers urged me to declare victory even though the networks hadn't called the race and my opponent had not conceded. Four years earlier, it was Jeb who wisely advised me against giving my speech in Austin. This time it was Laura. "George, you can't go out there," she said. "Wait until you've been declared the winner."

In the White House residence on Election Night, 2004, waiting for the decision. White House/Eric Draper White House/Eric Draper At around the same time, Dan Bartlett Dan Bartlett picked up a useful piece of intelligence. picked up a useful piece of intelligence. Nicolle Wallace Nicolle Wallace, my campaign's communications director, had connected Dan with Kerry aide Mike McCurry Mike McCurry. McCurry told him the senator would make the right decision if we gave him time. "Don't press the guy," Dan advised.

Once again, a disappointed crowd waited for a candidate who never arrived. I so wanted to give my supporters the victory party we had been denied in 2000. But it wasn't to be. Just after 5:00 a.m., I sent Andy Card Andy Card in my place. "President Bush decided to give Senator Kerry the respect of more time to reflect on the results of this election," he said. "We are convinced that President Bush has won reelection with at least 286 electoral votes." in my place. "President Bush decided to give Senator Kerry the respect of more time to reflect on the results of this election," he said. "We are convinced that President Bush has won reelection with at least 286 electoral votes."

At 11:02 the next morning, my personal a.s.sistant, Ashley Kavanaugh Ashley Kavanaugh, opened the door to the Oval Office. "Mr. President," she said, "I have Senator Kerry on the line."

John was gracious. I told him he was a worthy opponent who had run a spirited campaign. I called Laura and hugged the small group of senior aides gathered in the Oval Office. I walked down the hallway to d.i.c.k's office, where I gave him a hearty handshake. d.i.c.k isn't really the hugging type.

Eventually I reached Mother and Dad on the phone. After staying up most of the night, they had slipped out of the White House early that morning and flown back to Houston without knowing the results. "Congratulations, son," Dad said. He said it more with relief than joy. We hadn't talked about it, but 2000 was not the only election that had been on our minds. We both remembered the pain of 1992. I could tell he was very happy I would not have to go through what he had.

After its bleak start, election night 2004 had turned into a big victory. I became the first president to win a majority of the popular vote since Dad in 1988. As in 2002, Republicans gained ground in both the House and Senate.

The day after Kerry conceded, I held a morning press conference. One of the reporters asked if I felt "more free."

I thought about the ambitious agenda I had outlined over the past year. "Let me put it to you this way," I said. "I earned capital in the campaign, political capital, and now I intend to spend it."

For as long as I can remember, Social Security has been the third rail of American politics. Grab ahold of it, and you're toast.

In 2005, I did more than touch the third rail. I hugged it. I did so for one reason: It is unfair to make a generation of young people pay into a system that is going broke.

Created by Franklin Roosevelt Franklin Roosevelt in 1935, Social Security is a pay-as-you-go system. The checks collected by retirees are financed by payroll taxes paid by today's workers. The system worked fine when there were forty workers for every beneficiary, as there were in 1935. But over time, demographics changed. Life expectancy rose. The birthrate fell. As a result, by 2005 there were only three workers paying into the Social Security system for every beneficiary taking money out. By the time a young person starting work in the first decade of the twenty-first century retires, the ratio will be two to one. in 1935, Social Security is a pay-as-you-go system. The checks collected by retirees are financed by payroll taxes paid by today's workers. The system worked fine when there were forty workers for every beneficiary, as there were in 1935. But over time, demographics changed. Life expectancy rose. The birthrate fell. As a result, by 2005 there were only three workers paying into the Social Security system for every beneficiary taking money out. By the time a young person starting work in the first decade of the twenty-first century retires, the ratio will be two to one.

To compound the problem, Congress had set Social Security benefits to rise faster than inflation. Starting in 2018, Social Security was projected to take in less money than it paid out. The shortfall would increase every year, until the system hit bankruptcy in 2042. The year 2042 sounded a long way off, until I did the math. That was when my daughters, born in 1981, would be approaching retirement.

For someone looking to take on big issues, it didn't get much bigger than reforming Social Security. I decided there was no better time to launch the effort than when I was fresh off reelection.

I started by setting three principles for reform. First, nothing would change for seniors or people near retirement. Second, I would seek to make Social Security solvent without raising payroll taxes, which had already expanded from about 2 percent to 12 percent. Third, younger workers should have the option of earning a better return by investing part of their Social Security taxes in a personal retirement account.

Personal retirement accounts would be new to Social Security, but most Americans were familiar with the concept. Like 401(k) accounts, they could be invested in a safe mix of stock and bond funds, which would grow over time and benefit from the power of compound interest. The accounts would be managed by reputable financial inst.i.tutions charging low fees, and there would be prohibitions against withdrawing the money before retirement. Even at a conservative rate of return of 3 percent, an account holder's money would double every twenty-four years. By contrast, Social Security's return of 1.2 percent would take sixty years to double. Unlike Social Security benefits, personal retirement accounts would be an a.s.set owned by individual workers, not the government, and could be pa.s.sed from one generation to the next.

In early 2005, I sat down with Republican congressional leaders to talk through our legislative strategy. I told them modernizing Social Security would be my first priority. The reaction was lukewarm, at best.

"Mr. President," one leader said, "this is not a popular issue. Taking on Social Security will cost us seats."

"No," I shot back, "failing to tackle this issue will cost us seats."

It was clear they were thinking about the two-year election cycle of Capitol Hill. I was thinking about the responsibility of a president to lead on issues affecting the long-term prospects of the country. I reminded them that I had campaigned on this issue twice, and the problem was only going to get worse. By solving it, we would do the country a great service. And ultimately, good policy makes for good politics.

"If you lead, we'll be behind you," one House leader said, "but we'll be way behind you."

The meeting with congressional Republicans showed what an uphill climb I had on Social Security. I decided to press ahead anyway. When I looked back on my presidency, I didn't want to say I had dodged a big issue.

"Social Security was a great moral success of the twentieth century, and we must honor its great purposes in this new century," I said in my 2005 State of the Union address. "The system, however, on its current path, is headed toward bankruptcy. And so we must join together to strengthen and save Social Security."

With Mother campaigning for Social Secuirty reform. White House/Paul Morse White House/Paul Morse The next day, I embarked on a series of trips to raise awareness about Social Security's problems and rally the American people to insist on change. I gave speeches, convened town halls, and even held an event with my favorite Social Security beneficiary, Mother. "I'm here because I'm worried about our seventeen grandchildren, and so is my husband," she said. "They will get no Social Security."

One of my most memorable trips was to a Nissan auto-manufacturing plant in Canton, Mississippi. Many in the audience were African American workers. I asked how many had money invested in a 401(k). Almost every hand in the room shot up. I loved the idea of people who had not traditionally owned a.s.sets having a nest egg they could call their own. I also thought about how much more was possible. Social Security was especially unfair to African Americans. Because their life expectancy was shorter, black workers who spent a lifetime paying into Social Security received an average of $21,000 less in benefits than whites of comparable income levels. Personal accounts, which could be pa.s.sed along to the next generation, would go a long way toward reducing that disparity.

On April 28, I called a primetime press conference to lay out a specific proposal. The plan I embraced was the brainchild of a Democrat, Robert Pozen Robert Pozen. His proposal, known as progressive indexing, set benefits to grow fastest for the poorest Americans and slowest for the wealthiest. There would be a sliding scale for everyone in between. By changing the benefit growth formula, the plan would wipe out the vast majority of the Social Security shortfall. In addition, all Americans would have the opportunity to earn higher returns through personal retirement accounts.

I hoped both sides would embrace the proposal. Republicans would be pleased that we could vastly improve the budget outlook without raising taxes. Democrats should have been pleased by a reform that saved Social Security, the crown jewel of the New Deal, by offering the greatest benefits to the poor, minorities, and the working cla.s.s-the const.i.tuents they claimed to represent.

My legislative team***** pushed the plan hard, but it received virtually no support. Democratic leaders in the House and Senate alleged I wanted to "privatize" Social Security. That was obviously poll-tested language designed to scare people. It wasn't true. My plan saved Social Security, modernized Social Security, and gave Americans the opportunity to own a piece of their Social Security. It did not privatize Social Security. I sensed there was something broader behind the Democrats' opposition. National Economic Council Director Al Hubbard told me about a meeting he'd had on Capitol Hill. "I'd like to be helpful on this," one senior Democratic senator told him, "but our leaders have made clear we're not supposed to cooperate." pushed the plan hard, but it received virtually no support. Democratic leaders in the House and Senate alleged I wanted to "privatize" Social Security. That was obviously poll-tested language designed to scare people. It wasn't true. My plan saved Social Security, modernized Social Security, and gave Americans the opportunity to own a piece of their Social Security. It did not privatize Social Security. I sensed there was something broader behind the Democrats' opposition. National Economic Council Director Al Hubbard told me about a meeting he'd had on Capitol Hill. "I'd like to be helpful on this," one senior Democratic senator told him, "but our leaders have made clear we're not supposed to cooperate."

The rigid Democratic opposition on Social Security came in stark contrast to the bipartisanship I had been able to forge on No Child Left Behind and during my years in Texas. I was disappointed by the change, and I've often thought about why it occurred. I think there were some on the other side of the aisle who never got over the 2000 election and were determined not to cooperate with me. Others resented that I had campaigned against Democratic inc.u.mbents in 2002 and 2004, helping Republican candidates unseat Democratic icons like Senator Max Cleland Max Cleland of Georgia and Senate Majority Leader of Georgia and Senate Majority Leader Tom Daschle Tom Daschle.

No doubt I bear some of the responsibility as well. I don't regret campaigning for fellow Republicans. I had always made clear that I intended to increase our party's strength in Washington. While I was willing to fine-tune legislation in response to Democratic concerns, I would not compromise my principles, which was what some seemed to expect in return for cooperation. On Social Security, I may have misread the electoral mandate by pushing for an issue on which there had been little bipartisan agreement in the first place. Whatever the cause, the breakdown in bipartisanship was bad for my administration and bad for the country, too.