Odd Man Out

• Share

(2 of 6)

Missile defense may or may not be worth pursuing. Powell, initially halfhearted, now says he thinks it is. But it involves seismic change--ripping up the 1972 Anti-ballistic Missile Treaty, which has been the cornerstone of arms control for nearly 30 years. Such a plan antagonizes other nuclear powers, like Russia and China, and it raises concerns among European allies that the mighty U.S., so generous with its power since 1945, wants to look after its own interests and let the rest of the world go hang. Star Wars skeptics look to Powell to apply the brakes, to make the true believers see reason before they blithely abandon the treaty and disturb global nuclear stability. Or if missile defense is to go ahead, it needs someone to make its case with reason, firmness and tact, backed by unimpeachable authority--someone, in other words, like the Secretary of State his friends thought Powell would be. But so far, he seems to be going along for the ride.

On the Bush team, Powell finds himself operating across a fault line. In shorthand, it is attitude. The differences within the team are not about goals so much as about the manner of accomplishing them. Powell is a multilateralist; other Bush advisers are unilateralists. He's internationalist; they're America first. If you wanted to put a label on Powell's foreign outlook, you could call it "compassionate conservatism"; the others share the second notion but not the first. He is often seen as the Administration's force of moderation, charged with checking its more extreme enthusiasms. Even when winning, he seems to prevail against the tide. Though a star of global magnitude, he is the one doing the saluting.

It has to be frustrating. Naturally his aides say, "Powell doesn't give a damn about that. He doesn't care if Powell gets his way. That is not what he is about." When TIME asked him point-blank last week, he gazed back and said, "I'm not frustrated. There are problems to be solved. And my job is to help the President find the right answer to the problems he faces. It's not for me to be frustrated; that's not an option."

But friends say different. A Republican Senator who knows him well says flatly, "He's frustrated. I know he's not happy." A close associate at State says, "Sure, there's frustration--especially when you didn't have to do this and you're working your buns off at it." It has got bad enough for his intimate aides to wonder aloud whether Powell will serve out his full term. "You gotta wonder," says one, "whether you're still having fun or not."

All this has left a vast audience of admirers at home and abroad wondering what all that Powell charisma and celebrity and promise are being used for. What has happened to make the Bush Administration's ace look like its odd man out? Is it Powell, or the circumstances he's in? Is it something in the Powell makeup, or some combination of rivalry and situation, that holds him back?

It was probably impossible for Powell to live up to expectations. "He ascended to his position with almost a godlike reputation," says Senator Chuck Hagel, a senior Republican member of the Foreign Relations Committee. The hero of the Gulf War flirted with running for President in 1995, and both parties wanted him. When he agreed to grace Bush's Cabinet, it was widely assumed that he would run both foreign and defense policy.

So far, Powell seems vicar of neither. That could change in time. You hear his friends say he is just sitting back while he marshals his forces for a takeover. In the Washington cosmos, the stars are always in motion--falling, rising, colliding--and it can take the political telescope eons to determine which.

But nothing in Powell's situation makes it easy. He works for a man who doesn't tolerate being upstaged. The Administration Powell agreed to join has turned out to be full of rivals for predominance who are more hellbent on victory than he is. And the corridors of his own department, as much as the Pentagon and the White House, are salted with people who are not and never have been fans of his act.

To understand the dynamics, it helps to back up a few paces. The last time Powell worked with a Bush, the foreign policy team was built on centrism. The President had long experience; his best friend, Jim Baker, was at State; his foreign policy mentor, Brent Scowcroft, was at the National Security Council. The tough guy at the Pentagon, Dick Cheney, was reined in by the consensus among the others. The team worked seamlessly, pretty much agreeing on things, sharing an outlook that was steady, center-right, practical. Powell loved it and felt an integral part of it.