Rumsfeld Rules: The defense secretary is a blast from the past who is the man of the hour - popularity of Donald Rumsfeld

National Review, Dec 31, 2001 by Jay Nordlinger

Who's the "star" of this war so far? That's a vulgar consideration, given the awful work that has to be done. But there is, undeniably, an answer: Don Rumsfeld. Yes, Rumsfeld: defense secretary, TV personality, sex symbol (no kidding-more on that in a second), role model, inspiration. As one Washington arbiter puts it, "Rummy" is the man now. The man to whom the nation turns, the man to whom it listens. Nearly everyone-Republican or Democrat-sees him as the right guy at the right time in the right job.

One longtime Rumsfeld friend explains its nicely-and in decidedly Rummyesque fashion: "We're not playing pitty-patty anymore. We have a foe that's proven deadly. People look for a different kind of person to run Washington-as far away from the Clinton type as you can get."

Evidence of Rumsfeld mania is everywhere, and it's mounting. Consider a few facts:

Reports have it that people gather round to watch Rumsfeld press conferences the way they do Oprah.

-One Hollywood grande dame, hostess of a prized post-Oscar party, says to another Hollywood grande dame, "I'll call you in the morning." The second dame replies, "Okay, but be careful: Rumsfeld's on at 9:45."

-Women confide that they have . . . well, un-defense-policy-like thoughts about the secretary of defense. Not just older women, either, and not just stiff-haired Republicans: young ones, liberal ones, whatever. Larry King is moved to ask Rumsfeld about his new status as sex symbol. Says Rumsfeld, "Oh, come on. For the AARP, perhaps. I'm pushing seventy years old." Yeah, so?

-A journalist who's a perfect parody of a liberal-reflexively so-duly thinks that John Ashcroft is the devil incarnate. But she confesses: "I love Rumsfeld."

-Saturday Night Live-ever a barometer of cool-makes Rumsfeld something of a cult figure, or rather, acknowledges his status as such. Its parody of a Rumsfeld press conference is wildly successful. "Rumsfeld" makes the reporters look ridiculous, responding bluntly and tartly to not-so-bright questions. It's not every day that this show makes a Republican military official look with-it, the press corps not.

And so on. Rumsfeld is definitely the man of the hour, a classic American type returned to do a hard duty. He is direct, decent, and clear. It doesn't hurt him, either, that he is, indeed, a "handsome Joe," as my grandmother would say. Rumsfeld is this war's pin-up, its Betty Grable.

Which drives certain Rumsfeld staffers slightly nuts, of course, because the SecDef-SexDef?-is a terribly serious guy, overseeing a terribly serious operation, and all this "star" talk is just style, image: but the style and image aren't necessarily disconnected from the exigencies and obligations of the current situation. What Rumsfeld is, is a throwback. That's the word that keeps coming up in reference to him: "throwback." He's a reminder of the Greatest Generation-though he's about a half-generation younger than that-at a time when Greatest Generation grit and clarity of purpose are called for. He's not fighting on the battlefield, risking life and limb; but he is representing-reflecting-those who do, as civilian leaders often must.

You can get too sociological about this, but Rumsfeld is the anti-Alda. In a feminized society-whose idea of a male sex symbol has been the Brad Pitt-style pretty boy-he is a relief, or a rediscovery. He has walked out of Father Knows Best, or some WWII flick. And just as he's the anti-Alda, he is-as everyone says-the anti-Clinton. The ultimate anti-Clinton. Whereas Clinton was a pain-feeler, Rumsfeld is more a pain-inflicter, at least where the country's enemies are concerned. And he must be the most uneuphemistic person alive. He is totally immune, and allergic, to "spin." Says an old Rumsfeld hand, "He doesn't like to be spun. He sees it in a second, and you're dead if you try to do it. And he doesn't spin other people."

talk about a 'no-spin zone'

Ask most serious reporters and other keen types what they like about Rumsfeld-or even think of him-and they're liable to answer, "He tells the truth." Simple as that. Says one veteran newsman, "I've spent the better part of my life covering public officials, and on matters of policy-irrespective of party-most of them, when they're giving a briefing, cover their a**. That's why briefings are opaque, why they have all the spontaneity of a kabuki dance. But Rummy never dodges, never shucks. He doesn't say, 'I'll have to take that under advisement.' He just comes at you straight."

Rumsfeld himself seems to be obsessed with the truth. Early in the war, he wrote in an op-ed piece, "Some believe the first casualty of any war is the truth. But in this war, the first victory must be to tell the truth." He loves to admit what he doesn't know, and loves to tell you what he does know. He'll usually do so in "throwback" language. Featured in his lexicon are "golly," "holy mackerel," and "dadburn." Speaking of U.N. and American inspectors in Iraq, looking for the worst, he said, "We couldn't find beans, and it's there, and we know it's there." He spoke of "getting al-Qaeda and the Taliban the dickens out of Kabul and the rest of the country." "Beans"; "dickens"-it goes with the Vitalis-friendly hair. (Remember Vitalis?)