Decision Points

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 pass 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 incumbents 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 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
    I crisscrossed the country throughout the fall, with interruptions for each of the three 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, ‘passes the global test’ … My attitude 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 . 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 ’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 ofa 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 raised the topic of same-sex marriage and asked, “Do you believe homosexuality 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-sex marriage, began his answer,