The quiet conservative

National Review, Dec 31, 1997 by Matthew Scully

WASHINGTON, D.C.

The nearest thing to a profile in courage the last congressional session saw came during the debate in May over ratification of the Chemical Weapons Convention. Senate Majority Leader Trent Lott (R., Miss.) had come round to supporting the treaty, bringing crucial votes with him, and so the cause was lost. Yet there on the Senate floor was an impassioned Jon Kyl (R., Ariz.), saying, "This treaty . . . makes people feel good to say they have done something about a class of weapons we all abhor. But signing [it] is not going to solve the problem. Hard problems can't be wished away with naive hopes and tough talk."

Halfway into his first Senate term, Kyl ought by all rights to be viewed as an "obstructionist," one of those narrow conservative ideologues always in the way of responsible governance. It is not surprising that a former aide, Dan Coakley, describes him as "a fighter -- a man of principle and absolute integrity." Just about every Republican close to Kyl says this.

Curiously, however, Democrats say basically the same thing. In the chemical-weapons debate, Joseph Biden (D., Del.), who favored the bill, could hardly praise Kyl effusively enough. Somehow Kyl seems to have built up an exemplary conservative record without making enemies or even getting much attention outside Arizona.

One reason for the lack of notice is that he is preoccupied with the forgotten issue: national security. Kyl has argued for sanctions against Russia unless it stops helping Iran's nuclear-weapons program; challenged the Administration to list the IRA and PLO as terrorist organizations; and pushed hard for anti-missile defenses. Unlike other Republicans, Kyl refuses to put budget concerns above defense needs. He warns anyone who will listen that the U.S. is living off the Reagan military buildup, "downsizing" defense at the expense of national security. He wowed Margaret Thatcher at a conference of the New Atlantic Initiative in Prague last year (filling in for Henry Kissinger and, not coincidentally, bringing the NAI's next international gathering to his home town, Phoenix).

How has a man who just 11 years ago was a land- and water-rights lawyer in Phoenix become the leading Republican voice in foreign policy? "First off," Kyl replies, "I am not the leading Republican voice in foreign policy." He cites others, including Arizona colleague John McCain. Mention his widely noted Prague speech and he heaps praise on the speechwriter -- following Reagan's advice that you can achieve almost anything in politics provided you let other people take the credit.

This modesty also ensures that he is underrated. "With his issues," says a conservative activist, "he could have a national name by now. Except on technology, he's perfect. He just needs to work on exposure. He could be President someday."

Kyl seems proud of his obscurity, calling himself "an internal leader" in the tradition of his legislative model, former Sen. Sam Nunn (D., Ga.). He comes across as a formidable guy who may indeed, as an aide boasts, lay claim to "the best voice in the Senate." But he is not one for idle talk or idle gestures. Even Kyl's office in the Senate Hart Building has a spruce and spare quality: Just a few pictures of his wife of 33 years and their two children, a shot of his cabin in northern Arizona, a standard-issue desert landscape, and a clock. Either he has no time for redecorating, or he doesn't plan to stay there forever.

The son of a five-term congressman from Iowa, Kyl came to Arizona as a student in college and then law school, and disappeared for the next twenty years into corporate law. He was approached as early as 1974 about running for Congress, but, says Kelly Johnston, his first chief of staff in the House, "he decided to have a life first. He wanted to wait until he'd built up his career and seen his daughters off to college." In 1983, Kyl founded the Arizona Crime Victim Foundation. Three years later, he was elected to the House, with a conservative base in east Phoenix and Scottsdale.

In the House he fell in with Newt Gingrich (R., Ga.), John Kasich (R., Ohio), current Senate colleague Connie Mack (R., Fla.), and others in the informal group known as the Conservative Opportunity Society. He established a quiet but solid reputation. A security advisor to President Bush describes Kyl as "one of the most principled politicians I have ever dealt with. I think that's what makes him so effective. With Kyl, you always knew you were dealing with a serious man, someone who was capable of seeing beyond the next election." When a Senate seat opened up in 1994, Kyl ran and won by a 14-point margin.

He has amassed a conservative record since then -- and not just on defense. Although he voted for the budget agreement after criticizing its new spending and new programs, the National Taxpayers Union named him the "Most Frugal Spender" for 1997. "The problem isn't deficits," he says, "the problem is spending." He seeks a constitutional amendment to limit federal spending to 19 per cent of Gross Domestic Product and to require a two-thirds majority for tax increases. He is also working to undo the budget deal's statist restrictions (worthy of Hillary-Care) on Medicare patients' ability to make private contracts with doctors.