Lunch with the FT: John Bolton

By Edward Luce

Published: October 19 2007 17:01

I am no believer in providence. But having booked lunch with John Bolton – perhaps the most hardline (now former) member of the Bush administration – I arrive to find Donald Rumsfeld seated at the next table, and have the fleeting thought that I might possess my own newspaper-reading guardian angel.

Since I have arrived first I now have the advantage of watching Bolton, whose shock-white handlebar moustache gives him an unmistakeable Asterix-like appearance, cross the floor towards me. I wait to see what happens when he chances upon the former Secretary of Defense.

A brief moment of camaraderie ensues in which the former US ambassador to the United Nations takes out the cover of his forthcoming book about his time there – Surrender Is Not an Option – and shows it to Mr Rumsfeld. The latter clearly approves and they both laugh heartily. Then Bolton moves on to my table.

We are meeting at the lobby restaurant of the Mayflower Hotel – one of Washington’s most upholstered establishments. It is just a block away from Bolton’s office at the American Enterprise Institute, the conservative think-tank he joined last January. He had been left with little choice but to resign from his job at the UN, Congress having refused to confirm his appointment. Bolton says that he eats here often.

“In fact I introduced Rumsfeld to this place,” he says. “We had lunch here shortly after we both left the government [Rumsfeld was ejected in November]. We were sitting right here at this very table. Maybe it’s my libertarian philosophy: but being in government is hard. So we were both feeling liberated.”

We order immediately – Bolton goes for the club sandwich with freedom – oops – French fries and a glass of iced tea. I order a salade Nicoise and a cranberry juice. Clearly this isn’t going to be one of those fancy meals. Bolton makes a point of telling me that he prefers plain food – although the Mayflower has plenty of continental dishes on its menu. “I like this place because if you want something simple, then you have that option,” he says.

Ordering over, it’s my turn to scrutinise Bolton’s book cover. I ask where the title came from. He tells me it was prompted by his memories of being a 15-year-old volunteer for Barry Goldwater’s 1964 presidential bid. The hardline Republican was trounced by Lyndon Johnson.

Goldwater’s reputation has been rehabilitated in recent years, and he is now portrayed by conservatives as a kind of John the Baptist to Ronald Reagan’s Jesus. At the time he was criticised harshly by moderate Republicans. But to John Bolton, who came from a blue-collar background (his father was a fireman in Baltimore), Goldwater’s uncompromising conservatism made him an instant and lifelong hero: “It was just outrageous that a man like Goldwater could be trashed the way that he was,” he says. “One thing was clear – surrender was not an option, and the book editors said that would be a great title.”

Feeling mildly intimidated, not least by Bolton’s warlike moustache, I venture an ill-timed joke: “Well of course, everyone will instantly think of that phrase ‘Cheese-eating surrender monkeys’,” I say, referring to the memorable line coined for the French after they had voted against the Iraq war at the UN. Bolton looks at me suspiciously. An awkward moment of silence follows.

I break it with a question, asking him to explain what made him a “Goldwater conservative” – Bolton’s preferred tag – as opposed to a neoconservative, such as Paul Wolfowitz, Rumsfeld’s former deputy who nowadays sits along the corridor from Bolton at the AEI. Bolton warms instantly to the theme. One of the key differences, he says, is that most neoconservatives used to be left-wing. As a Goldwater teen, Bolton had clearly avoided that provenance (interestingly, Hillary Clinton started off as a “Goldwater girl” in 1964). Bolton is also keen to point out that he is a follower of Edmund Burke, the late 18th-century Anglo-Irish politician and philosopher, whose empirical conservatism would rule out most of the neocons’ utopian agenda.

“We used to joke that neoconservatives were liberals who’d been mugged by reality,” Bolton replied. “I have always been a conservative. The idea of big-government conservatism has more neocon adherents than from unmodified conservatives.”

Our food arrives and Bolton periodically drenches his fries in tomato ketchup as he eats. I try to counteract the lingering sense that I have shown myself up as too European for Bolton’s taste by tackling my salad with aggressive jabs. We carry on with the neocon versus Goldwater conservative discussion as we eat. I suggest that on Iraq, or indeed the nuclear ambitions of Iran, the views of both groups happily coincide.

Through a mouthful of fries, Bolton only half-agrees. He concedes that their views coincided on the need to remove Saddam Hussein – Bolton felt it was in America’s interest to eliminate a potential threat. But he parted ways with the neoconservatives on the objectives of the subsequent occupation. “I am all in favour of democracy in Iraq,” he says. “I don’t know what else I would say. But our national interest today is to stop any part of Iraq from becoming a base for terrorism and if that is accomplished with a less than Jeffersonian type of democracy, then that’s OK with me.”

Mistakes were made, he concedes – only not the ones most people would identify. “In terms of Iraq’s governance I would have put the Iraqis in charge as soon as possible,” he says. “I’ll exaggerate for effect but what we should have done is said to the Iraqis: ‘You’re on your own. Here’s a copy of the Federalist papers. Good luck.’”

And what of the Bush administration’s idea of spreading democracy, I ask. Is that now discredited? “You can’t discredit something that was wrong from the start,” he replies with evident feeling. “Their [the neocons’] ultimate conclusion is that if all the world were filled with democracies, there would be no war. But that is contrary to the entire human spirit.

“I’m not sure history has ended. Russia has passed through democracy and come out the other side. You could make the same case about the European institutions, which don’t seem to be accountable to anybody except their foreign ministries.”

The waiter asks what we would like next. Bolton asks for a coffee – “just a coffee” – while I request a double espresso with separate hot milk. Bolton gives me another of his flinty looks. Feeling the need to explain, I say: “Ordinarily I’d order a large macchiato, but sometimes they don’t know what that is.” I realise at once that I am only digging myself deeper. “I wouldn’t know,” says Bolton after a pause. “I just get coffee.”

The pause continues. To get things going again, I raise what is perhaps Bolton’s favourite topic – the State Department, his home through several Republican administrations but which he continues openly to disdain. Much like the British description of diplomats having “gone native”, American diplomats are often accused of succumbing to “clientilism”. Is that still his view? Bolton springs back to life.

“Yes,” he says, “but even the word ‘clientilism’ shows how little the State Department understands the problem: surely your client is the US? In fact what they mean by clientilism is that if you’re the French desk officer, then you become too pro-France.” Bolton is more than happy to continue in this vein. Meanwhile I try to slurp my double espresso as noisily as possible.

As I do so Bolton relates a story, “possibly apocryphal”, about George Shultz, Ronald Reagan’s secretary of state, who would point to a large globe and ask newly appointed American ambassadors to find their country. Invariably they would point to where they were going. “No,” said Shultz, spinning it back to America, “that is your country.”

Bolton continues: “The foreign service ought to be advocates for American interests, not apologists. This problem is not unique to the US but neither is it necessarily the rule everywhere else.” So which foreign services do serve their national interests? I ask. “The Russians,” he says. Then he pauses for a while before adding, “And the French.” Formidable, I think. “And the Indians and especially the Pakistanis.”

I ask whether nakedly pursuing one’s national interest might be counter-productive, particularly in the post-9/11 world. Surely alienating people around the world might also undermine America’s interest? Bolton dislikes the premise of my question. “Every country has an aspect to it that rubs up people the wrong way,” he says. “I quote in my book a great rhyme from world war two: ‘In Washington Lord Halifax whispered to Lord Keynes, it’s true they have the moneybags but we have all the brains.’”

Look what happened to the British, I reply. Such hubris didn’t serve them very well. “Name a country that hasn’t had hubris at one point or another,” Bolton responds. “Sweden had an empire as did Lithuania…” But sometimes, I interrupt, foreigners detect a providential quality to American motives that it might be better to downplay – that God has a hand in the US’s destiny.

“Well,” he replies and pauses before continuing. “There are Americans who believe that. My favourite story is of Thomas Jefferson and John Adams who were bitter enemies during their presidencies, but who become friends at the end. They both died on the 50th anniversary of the declaration of independence – 4th July, 1826. Now try to put that in its historical context.”

It was a revealing example – and also interesting and provocative, as is Bolton’s wont. By this stage I sense that his suspicion of me has mildly dissipated. As we wait for the bill, we finally get round to the subject of Iran. Bolton finishes with a flourish, confidently predicting that George W. Bush will launch a military strike on Iran’s nuclear facilities before leaving office.

He can’t resist one last European dig. “Four years of European diplomacy have given the Iranians the one asset they could not have purchased – and that was time,” he says, wagging his finger. “And now, irony of ironies, after fiddling around with all this futile diplomacy, we finally have a French president who sounds just like we do on Iran.” C’est la guerre, I think. A sobering conclusion to a sober Anglo-Saxon meal.

Edward Luce is the FT’s Washington bureau chief

Mayflower Hotel, Washington DC
1 x club sandwich
1 x French fries
1 x salade Nicoise
1 x iced tea
1 x cranberry juice
1 x regular coffee
1 x double expresso
Total: $57.54