Plain Squeaking

By DAN GOODGAME WASHINGTON

During the final throes of an otherwise forgettable midterm campaign, Americans last week witnessed a strange spectacle: George Bush, the celebrated conciliator and undistinguished orator, tried -- at least for a couple of days -- to emulate Harry ("Give 'Em Hell") Truman.

Rallying Republicans in Oklahoma City, Bush blamed the Democrat-controlled Congress for dragging the economy to the edge of recession. He snarled that Congress had "turned its back on our police officers." Later he boasted that Republicans had "held the line against reckless cuts of our armed forces" sought by Democrats, adding that "we owe that much to our men and women in the Persian Gulf."

It was a risky gambit for the normally cautious Bush, but, as one White House official put it, "When you're this far behind, you have to take some chances." Bush desperately needed to regain the initiative following his flounder flops on taxes during the budget talks, which drove his poll ratings down more than 20 points and moved many G.O.P. candidates to split with him publicly. Worst of all, Bush's credibility was slipping. In an unpublished portion of a recent NBC News/Wall Street Journal poll, voters were asked "Is George Bush honest, a person you can trust?" Only 52% said yes, down from 63% a year ago.

Spurred by John Sununu, his combative chief of staff, Bush sought to recover by appealing to voters over the heads of a "do-nothing Congress," just as the Democrat Truman had done more than four decades earlier. Jim Pinkerton, 32, the White House policy-planning chief, had urged this strategy for months after poring over accounts of Truman's 1948 campaign, in which he pressed his social program, bashed Republican lawmakers for obstructing it and convinced voters to replace them with Democrats. This time, however, neither the actor nor the stage seemed to fit the script. Voters, while disgusted by federal fecklessness, blame Republicans at least as much as Democrats. Also, as a senior Republican strategist conceded, "this give-'em-hell stuff really isn't George Bush, and it's not credible coming from him. It's too strident."

By midweek Bush himself was chafing at the Truman approach. So he sought help from outside advisers, including two key figures from his 1988 campaign: political adman Roger Ailes and pollster Robert Teeter. Both men told Bush that his attempts to hang the budget mess on the Democrats looked defensive and that he would do better to change the subject. "Let's remind people that we've got some good things accomplished," a third adviser recommended. "Talk about the Clean Air Act. Talk about the gulf, which is more presidential. Above all, be yourself."

Thus, after vowing to "crisscross the country" savaging Democrats, Bush ended the week saying he wanted to "finish on a positive note." He began to talk extensively -- and belligerently -- about the Persian Gulf. But that shift hardly mollified the Democrats; citing the campaign-trail venues for the President's tough talk on the gulf, they accused him of using the crisis for Republican advantage. Bush indignantly denied the charge. Yet two polls released late last week suggested the new approach might be paying off: Bush's approval ratings appear to be leveling off in the mid-50s.

Bush belatedly concluded that after more than five months of bipartisan budget talks with Congress, he could not credibly lurch into reverse gear and blame everything on his negotiating partners. "The Truman approach could be a good one," said one Republican strategist, "but you have to be consistent about it."

Consistency has been scarce around the White House lately, in part because of Bush's tendency to separate "governing" and "politics." When he works on the gulf crisis or the budget, he is "governing": he concentrates on cutting private deals and sees little need to persuade the public to back him. Once the deals are made, however, Bush can switch to his "politics" mode, in which he feels free to play fast and loose with the facts. Bush tells his political audiences, for example, that he needs more Republicans in Congress so that taxes and spending can be reduced. Yet in the recent budget battle, House Republicans were unable to come within $90 billion of Bush's deficit- cutting targets.

President Truman understood that governing requires the constant and effective practice of politics, which he reduced to one word: persuasion. Truman always worked to persuade the public, in frank and often funny language. Yet he never feared to offend voters who might disagree, and he seldom shrank from admitting the costs and implications of his policies.

George Bush, in contrast, tries to please everyone all the time. He takes the popular position that taxes need not rise, even on the wealthy, if only federal spending is cut -- yet he insists that Congress make the tough choices on whose spending is cut. His attitude is that the buck stops there. Bush sought closed-door budget talks with the leaders of Congress precisely because all sides wished to avoid public debate over such unpopular measures as the $70 billion cut in Medicare that Bush secretly proposed. As Senate majority leader George Mitchell observed, "President Bush is unwilling to advocate publicly the policies he was pursuing privately."

When Americans think of Harry Truman, many recall the crowds in 1948 who urged him to "Give 'em hell." Fewer remember Truman's response: "I just tell the truth on the opposition -- and they think it's hell." Until George Bush does the same, he will be no Harry Truman.

With reporting by Michael Duffy/Washington