Uniform Standard: The First Amendment and Bush
by Peter Beinart
On July 4, Jeff and Nicole Rank went to hear George W. Bush speak in Charleston, West Virginia. Tickets in hand, they found seats ten or 15 rows from the stage. There they sat, quietly, wearing t-shirts that read love america, hate bush and regime change starts at home. Forty-five minutes before the president took the podium, event staffers approached the couple and said, "You need to either take those shirts off or leave." According to The San Antonio Express-News, Jeff Rank replied, "People around us have Bush-Cheney t-shirts, pro-Bush t-shirts. Why can't we express our views?" The staffers left, but a few minutes later, two police officers arrived and told the couple to "cover up, take them [the t-shirts] off or leave completely." The Ranks refused, at which point they were handcuffed, expelled from the event, and briefly thrown in prison. With the Ranks safely off the premises, Bush addressed the crowd, declaring that "on the Fourth of July, we confirm our love of freedom, the freedom for people to speak their minds, the freedom for people to worship as they so choose. Free thought and free expression, that's what we believe." Two days later, the Federal Emergency Management Agency, Nicole Rank's employer, told her that, as a result of the incident, she was being dismissed from her assignment in West Virginia.
Welcome to Bush's reelection bid. In his speeches, the president often talks about spreading democracy throughout the world. He just doesn't want too much of it in his campaign. On August 4, Glen Wooldridge took his daughters to a Bush rally in Davenport, Iowa. He picked up his tickets, but, as he waited in line to enter the event, a security guard saw that he was wearing a small John Kerry 2004 pin. As Wooldridge later detailed in a letter to The Des Moines Register, the guard pushed him out of line, ripped up his tickets, and told him, "We don't like your pin, so get out of here."
On August 5, Barbara Miller tried to enter a Bush rally in Saginaw, Michigan, carrying a pro-choice t-shirt. The t-shirt was confiscated. Then, an hour later, two campaign workers and a security guard ejected Miller, her husband, and their daughter from the stadium. As Miller told The Saginaw News, the guard ripped up her tickets, saying, "They're no good anymore."
Notice a pattern? According to an excellent report by NPR's Nina Totenberg, on August 16, Kathy Mead tried to wear a Kerry sticker into a Bush rally in Traverse City, Michigan. Security staff tore up her ticket and the sticker and ordered her to leave. On August 4, Tim Watts took a friend's sons to a Bush rally in Mankato, Minnesota. A security screener spotted a Kerry sticker on a wallet one of the boys was carrying, then ejected the group from the event. On July 14, Jason Nelson, a county supervisor from Appleton, Wisconsin, showed up at a Bush rally, to which he had been invited as a special guest. Earlier that day, he had attended a Kerry rally, and was still wearing a Kerry t-shirt. A Secret Service agent told him to leave. On September 7, students in Lee's Summit, Missouri, were instructed to attend a Bush rally at their school but were prohibited from wearing Kerry buttons or t-shirts. At a July 31 Dick Cheney rally in Albuquerque, New Mexico, according to The Albuquerque Journal, ticket-seekers were required to sign a pledge that they "endorse[d] George W. Bush for reelection of [sic] the United States."
Doesn't every campaign do this? Actually, no. As Totenberg notes, Bush's father was trailed from event to event by a man in a chicken suit, who mocked him for dodging debates with Bill Clinton. On April 6 of this year, according to The Columbus Dispatch, several dozen demonstrators clapped flip-flops together at a Kerry rally in Cincinnati. On June 15 in Columbus, protesters almost drowned Kerry out with the theme song from the old TV show "Flipper." When Totenberg asked the Bush campaign for examples of Bush supporters being denied entry to Kerry rallies, they provided only one name, and the person didn't return calls. On July 31, math professor John Prather did his own test. When he tried to enter a Bush rally in Cambridge, Ohio, wearing a Kerry-Edwards t-shirt, he was kicked out. But, when he wore a Bush t-shirt to a Kerry rally in nearby Wheeling, West Virginia, later that day, no one so much as uttered a word.
The Bush campaign claims it is weeding out potential hecklers. But most of the people mentioned above say they had no intention of heckling. And, even if they did, as lone individuals or families, they could hardly have disrupted rallies filled with thousands of people. In other words, the Bush campaign isn't trying to protect the president's right to be heard; it's trying to guarantee that TV cameras film enthusiastic crowds and thus project an image of overwhelming support wherever President Bush happens to visit. Free expression is denied so the president can appear popular.
In and of themselves, these restrictions hardly threaten American democracy. But they illustrate this administration's broader ethos. Since the advent of the televised press conference, no president has held as few as George W. Bush--none is even close. Bush initially refused to let national security adviser Condoleezza Rice testify before the 9/11 Commission. He also initially refused himself, then tried to limit his testimony to one hour, then tried to block commissioners other than the co-chairmen from attending, then barred a transcriber. He has boasted about not reading the newspaper. When General Eric Shinseki contradicted the Bush administration's line on how many troops it would take to occupy Iraq, he was rebuked. When Lawrence Lindsey contradicted the administration's line that Iraq could pay for its own reconstruction, he was fired. When criticized by John Kerry in the first debate, the president could hardly contain his anger.
The policy at Bush campaign rallies, in other words, reveals a deep truth about this president. He hates being challenged. He uses his office to insulate himself from questions and criticism. His handlers sweep meddlesome realities aside so he can appear certain, confident, and in command. Pundits may be puzzled that this White House brushed off internal objections about Saddam Hussein's weapons programs before the Iraq war. But I suspect Nicole Rank isn't surprised at all.
Peter Beinart is the editor of The New Republic |
