Dick Cheney. The name alone conjures images of shadowy backrooms, hawkish foreign policy, and an almost unnerving level of influence wielded from the Vice President's office. But beyond the political caricatures, what did the data really say about his impact? The common narrative paints him as the most powerful VP in modern history, transforming the role into something akin to a co-presidency. Let's dissect that claim.
The article correctly points out that Cheney wasn't chosen to balance the ticket in the traditional sense. Wyoming offered a pittance in electoral votes, and his persona was the antithesis of Bush's "fresh face" appeal. Instead, he brought something far more valuable: decades of experience in the Washington machine. Four years as head of the Pentagon under Bush Sr. cemented his position within the Bush family's fiercely loyal inner circle.
Consider his resume: Congressman, cabinet member, White House Chief of Staff. This wasn't a politician angling for the next rung on the ladder; this was a seasoned operator who understood the levers of power. Bush tapped him to lead the VP search, then, in a move that reeked of calculated strategy, chose Cheney himself. The rationale? Gravitas, experience, and foreign policy chops that Bush lacked. It's easy to see why Bush felt inadequate.
The claim that Cheney's influence was "unrivalled by any 20th-century predecessor" is bold, but hard to quantify directly. We can, however, look at the types of influence he exerted. The article notes his central role in shaping policy across government, particularly after 9/11. While Bush was in Florida, Cheney was in the White House bunker, effectively running the show. This cemented his image as the steady hand during a crisis. Dick Cheney: The most influential vice president in modern American history. This belief fueled his support for aggressive foreign policy, his unwavering faith in the Iraq War, and his dismissal of intelligence that contradicted his views. The invasion of Iraq, arguably the defining foreign policy decision of the Bush era, had Cheney's fingerprints all over it.
Cheney's obsession with secrecy (operating from a "secret, undisclosed location") became a running joke, but it also reflected his core belief: American power must be projected, and the President must have the authority to do so, unencumbered.
But Cheney's vision of American power came at a cost. The Abu Ghraib scandal, his staunch defense of CIA torture, and his support for warrantless wiretapping all tarnished his legacy. He saw the world through a Hobbesian lens – a dark jungle where only the strongest survive. This worldview justified, in his mind, actions that many considered morally reprehensible.
Halliburton, where Cheney served as CEO from 1995 to 2000, became a symbol of corporate cronyism during the Iraq War. The company received massive no-bid contracts for reconstruction, raising serious questions about conflicts of interest. (Halliburton’s stock price increased substantially during this period, by the way). Was this a coincidence, or a direct result of Cheney's influence? The data, while suggestive, doesn't offer a definitive answer.
It's easy to forget, amidst the controversies, that Cheney was a product of the establishment. He rose through the ranks, mastering the art of bureaucratic maneuvering. As the article notes, even his political opponents acknowledged his skill, despite his staunchly conservative voting record. He had a knack for masking hard-line views with an affable manner, a skill that served him well throughout his career.
And this is the part of the story that I find genuinely puzzling: How did a man who once possessed the "priceless knack of making few enemies" become such a polarizing figure? Was it the weight of 9/11, the pressures of the War on Terror, or something else entirely?
The article ends with a quote from Brent Scowcroft, a colleague from the elder Bush administration: "Dick Cheney, I don't know any more." That sentiment, more than any statistic, captures the complexity of Cheney's legacy.
