Decision Points Page 15

  I told Leon I had been wrestling with the decision. Embryonic stem cell research seemed to offer so much hope. Yet it raised troubling moral concerns. I wondered if it was possible to find a principled policy that advanced science while respecting the dignity of life.

  Leon’s logical mind went to work. He argued that embryos—even those long frozen—had the potential for life and thus deserved some form of respect. “One goes with a heavy heart if we use these things,” he said. “We at least owe them the respect not to manipulate them for our own purposes. We are dealing with the seeds of the next generation.”

  I shared an idea: What if I authorized federal funding for embryonic stem cell research—but solely for existing stem cell lines? The embryos used to create those lines had been destroyed. There was no way to get them back. It seemed logical to let scientists use them to pursue treatments that might save other lives. But that raised another question: If I allowed federal funding for research that relied on destroyed embryos, would I be tacitly encouraging further destruction?

  Leon said he believed that funding research on already destroyed embryos would be ethical, with two conditions. I must reaffirm the moral principle that had been violated—in this case, the dignity of human life. And I must make clear that federal funds would not be used in the further destruction of embryos. So long as I did both, he said, the policy would pass the ethical test. “If you fund research on lines that have already been developed,” he said, “you are not complicit in their destruction.”

  The conversation with Leon crystallized my thinking. I decided that the government would fund research on stem cell lines derived from embryos that had already been destroyed. At the same time, I would ask Congress to increase federal funding for alternative sources of stem cells that brought no ethical controversy. And I would draw a firm moral line: Federal tax dollars would not be used to support the destruction of life for medical gain. I also created a new presidential bioethics council, composed of experts from all backgrounds and chaired by Leon Kass.

  The next step was to announce the decision to the American people. Karen suggested a rare primetime speech to the nation. When the president addresses the nation in primetime, he usually speaks as commander in chief. In this case, I would be speaking as educator in chief. I liked the idea. Stem cell research was a serious issue for the nation, but an obscure one for most citizens—as it had been for me in January. Explaining my decision would be almost as important as making it.

  On August 9, 2001, I addressed a nationwide network TV audience from Crawford, Texas—definitely a first in presidential history. The night before the speech, Laura and I had dinner with Jay, Karen and her son Robert, and a family friend, Fort Worth interior designer Ken Blasingame. I asked Jay to say a prayer before we began the meal. He delivered some thoughtful words. As he finished, we all kept our heads bowed, waiting for the amen. After a few seconds of hanging, Jay told us that Jewish prayers don’t always end with amen. It was a fitting conclusion to a process filled with learning.

  “Good evening,” I began my address, “I appreciate you giving me a few minutes of your time tonight so I can discuss with you a complex and difficult issue, an issue that is one of the most profound of our time.” I outlined the dilemma: “While we must devote enormous energy to conquering disease,” I said, “it is equally important that we pay attention to the moral concerns raised by the new frontier of human embryo stem cell research. Even the most noble ends do not justify any means.”

  Near the end, I pivoted to my decision:

  Embryonic stem cell research offers both great promise and great peril. So I have decided we must proceed with great care. … I have concluded that we should allow federal funds to be used for research on these [existing] stem cell lines, where the life-and-death decision has already been made. Leading scientists tell me research on these sixty lines has great promise that could lead to breakthrough therapies and cures. This allows us to explore the promise and potential of stem cell research without crossing a fundamental moral line, by providing taxpayer funding that would sanction or encourage further destruction of human embryos that have at least the potential for life. … I have made this decision with great care, and I pray it is the right one.

  For weeks before the speech, I had felt a sense of anxiety. I had constantly questioned my assumptions and weighed the options again and again. With the decision made, I felt a sense of calm. I didn’t know what the reaction would be. We hadn’t commissioned a focus group or taken a poll. Just as we had waited for the amen at the end of Jay’s prayer, we settled in to await the response.

  Reaction to my stem cell decision poured in quickly. Many politicians and activists on both sides praised the policy as reasonable and balanced. While some scientists and advocacy groups responded with disappointment, many welcomed the unprecedented federal funding as a vote of confidence in their work. The head of the Juvenile Diabetes Research Foundation issued a statement saying, “We applaud the president for supporting embryonic stem cell research.” My friend Kent Waldrep, the paralyzed TCU football player on whose advocacy board I used to sit, told a reporter, “It does everything the scientific community needs and I think a little bit more.”

  To the degree that I faced criticism, it came from the right. One conservative activist compared my decision to Nazi conduct during the Holocaust. Another said, “I am ashamed of our president, who compromises and gives my generation the … mentality that human life can be picked apart, abused, and destroyed.” The spokesman for the U.S. Conference of Catholic Bishops said, “I seem to be the only man in America who is against the president’s policy.”

  His loneliness did not last long. The tone of the debate quickly became heated and harsh. Looking back, it is clear that a toxic pair of factors had converged: money and politics.

  Many of the first to turn against the policy were scientists. By providing some federal funding, I had whetted their appetite for more. In the spring of 2002, I addressed a major complaint by allowing privately funded embryonic stem cell research to be conducted at facilities that received federal dollars. It was an important step, but it did not satisfy the scientists, who constantly demanded more.

  Advocacy groups quickly followed. Their high hopes for new cures had led them to make unrealistic promises. They seemed to feel that limiting the number of stem cells available for research would delay breakthroughs. They recruited well-meaning Hollywood stars to tug at heartstrings. They also discovered that the issue could help them raise large amounts of money. Some who had initially supported my decision transformed into vocal critics.

  Politicians recognized that they, too, could capitalize on the issue. By 2004, Democrats had concluded that stem cell research was a political winner. It allowed them to open a new front in the abortion debate while also claiming the mantle of compassion. Candidates across the country ran TV ads that highlighted the benefits of embryonic stem cell research without mentioning that the science was unproven, the morality was in doubt, and ethical alternatives existed.

  The Democratic presidential nominee, Senator John Kerry, campaigned hard on the issue. Kerry frequently criticized what he called a “ban” on embryonic stem cell research. I pointed out that there was no such ban. To the contrary, I was the first president in history to fund embryonic stem cell research. Plus, there were no restrictions on funding from the private sector.

  Nonetheless, Kerry’s campaign used stem cell research as the foundation for a broader attack, labeling my positions “anti-science.” The charge was false. I had supported science by funding alternative stem cell research, promoting clean energy development, increasing federal spending on technology research, and launching a global AIDS initiative. Yet the demagoguery continued all the way up to the election. The low point came in October, when Kerry’s running mate, Senator John Edwards, told a political rally in Iowa that if Kerry became president, “people like Christopher Reeve* will get up out of that wheelchair and walk again.”


  The stem cell debate was an introduction to a phenomenon I witnessed throughout my presidency: highly personal criticism. Partisan opponents and commentators questioned my legitimacy, my intelligence, and my sincerity. They mocked my appearance, my accent, and my religious beliefs. I was labeled a Nazi, a war criminal, and Satan himself. That last one came from a foreign leader, Venezuelan President Hugo Chavez. One lawmaker called me both a loser and a liar. He became majority leader of the U.S. Senate.

  In some ways, I wasn’t surprised. I had endured plenty of rough politics in Texas. I had seen Dad and Bill Clinton derided by their opponents and the media. Abraham Lincoln was compared to a baboon. Even George Washington became so unpopular that political cartoons showed the hero of the American Revolution being marched to a guillotine.

  Yet the death spiral of decency during my time in office, exacerbated by the advent of twenty-four-hour cable news and hyper-partisan political blogs, was deeply disappointing. The toxic atmosphere in American politics discourages good people from running for office.

  Over time, the petty insults and name-calling hardened into conventional wisdom. Some have said I should have pushed back harder against the caricatures. But I felt it would debase the presidency to stoop to the critics’ level. I had run on a promise to change the tone in Washington. I took that vow seriously and tried to do my part, but I rarely succeeded.

  The shrill debate never affected my decisions. I read a lot of history, and I was struck by how many presidents had endured harsh criticism. The measure of their character, and often their success, was how they responded. Those who based decisions on principle, not some snapshot of public opinion, were often vindicated over time.

  George Washington once wrote that leading by conviction gave him “a consolation within that no earthly efforts can deprive me of.” He continued: “The arrows of malevolence, however barbed and well pointed, never can reach the most vulnerable part of me.”

  I read those words in Presidential Courage, written by historian Michael Beschloss in 2007. As I told Laura, if they’re still assessing George Washington’s legacy more than two centuries after he left office, this George W. doesn’t have to worry about today’s headlines.

  Far from the yelling on the TV sets and the campaign trail, my stem cell policy quietly moved forward in the labs. For the first time in history, scientists received federal grants to support embryonic stem cell research.

  Scientists also used new federal funding for alternative stem cell research to explore the potential of adult bone marrow, placentas, amniotic fluid, and other non-embryonic sources. Their research yielded new treatments for patients suffering from dozens of diseases—free of moral drawbacks. For example, doctors discovered a way to collect stem cells harmlessly from the blood of umbilical cords to treat patients suffering from leukemia and sickle-cell anemia.

  Much of this research was overseen by Dr. Elias Zerhouni, the talented Algerian American I appointed to lead the NIH. I had put Elias in a tough position. He felt trapped between a president he had agreed to serve and the scientific community of which he was part. He did not agree with my embryonic stem cell policy. Yet he was more interested in new cures than in politics. He funded the alternative stem cell sources aggressively, and a good deal of credit for the breakthroughs in the field belongs to Dr. Zerhouni and his team of professionals at the NIH.

  Unfortunately, most members of Congress paid more attention to politics than to the scientific discoveries. As the 2006 elections approached, Democrats made clear they would again use the issue as a political weapon. A U.S. Senate candidate in Missouri persuaded Michael J. Fox, who suffers from Parkinson’s, to attack her opponent in statewide TV ads. Some Republicans who had initially supported the policy feared for their seats and changed their minds. In July 2006, the House and Senate considered a bill that would overturn my stem cell policy by permitting federal funding for research that destroyed human life.

  Five and a half years into the presidency, I had yet to veto a piece of legislation. I had worked closely with our congressional majorities to pass bills I could accept. But as the stem cell bill was working its way through Congress, I had made clear I would veto it. When it reached my desk, I did.

  I was hit with all sorts of labels, “stubborn” being one of the most polite. But I would not change my position. If I abandoned my principles on an issue like stem cell research, how could I maintain my credibility on anything else?

  I thought a lot about how to send the right signal about the veto. I wanted a vivid way to show that my position was grounded in my reverence for life, not any aversion to science. When Karl Zinsmeister, my domestic policy adviser, suggested inviting a group of snowflake babies to the White House, I thought the idea was perfect. Each had come from a frozen embryo that, rather than being destroyed for research, was implanted in an adoptive mother.

  I gave my veto speech in the East Room with twenty-four excited children and their parents onstage. One of the little wigglers was fourteen-month-old Trey Jones. He started life as an embryo fertilized by Dave and Heather Wright of Macomb, Michigan. The couple had undergone IVF treatment, which helped them bring three beautiful children into the world. They gave permission for their remaining frozen embryos to be adopted, instead of being destroyed for research.

  Holding Trey Jones. White House/Kimberlee Hewitt

  In Cypress, Texas, J. J. and Tracy Jones were praying for a child. Through Nightlight Christian Adoptions, they were paired with the Wright family embryos. The result was the smiling, blond-haired boy named Trey whom I held in my arms at the White House. Thanks to the miracle of science and the compassion of two families, Trey had a loving home and a hopeful life ahead of him.

  A few weeks after the event, I received a touching letter from J. J. Jones. He described the “pain of infertility” and how blessed he and Tracy felt to have their “precious Trey who some describe as a leftover destined to be either destroyed or used for research.” He also informed me that Trey would soon have a sibling, the product of another frozen embryo he and Tracy had adopted.

  Congress’s response to my veto was not so warm. The Democratic sponsor of the bill erupted with a statement claiming that my veto was based on “cynical political gain.” It was hard to see how, since most polls showed my stem cell stance was not popular. As punishment for my veto, Democrats refused to pass legislation supporting research into alternative sources of stem cells. The message was that if they couldn’t fund stem cell research that destroyed embryos, they would prefer to fund none at all. So much for their passionate desire to see new cures.

  When Democrats won control of the House and Senate, they decided to make another run at overturning my policy. Speaker Nancy Pelosi announced that it was one of her top priorities. They sent me another bill in June 2007; I sent it back again with my veto. Thanks to the courage of many Republicans on Capitol Hill, the veto held.

  Five months later, Americans awoke to an unexpected headline on the front page of the New York Times: “Scientists Bypass Need for Embryo to Get Stem Cells.” The article described how two teams of researchers, one in Wisconsin and one in Japan, had reprogrammed an adult skin cell to behave like an embryonic stem cell. By adding just four genes to the adult cell, scientists were able to replicate the medical promise of embryonic stem cells without moral controversy.

  The discovery reverberated throughout the scientific community. Fervent advocates of embryonic stem cell research hailed the breakthrough as “a spectacular advance” and “ethically uncomplicated.” Ian Wilmut, the Scottish scientist who cloned Dolly the sheep, announced that he would no longer pursue the cloning of human embryos, but would instead use this new technique.

  I was thrilled by the news. This was the scientific breakthrough that I had hoped for when I made my announcement in 2001. Charles Krauthammer, one of the most insightful columnists in America and a respectful critic of my stem cell decision in 2001, wrote, “The verdict is clear: Rarely has a president—so vilifi
ed for a moral stance—been so thoroughly vindicated.”

  In the years to come, our nation will face more dilemmas about bioethics, from cloning to genetic engineering. History will judge the character of our country in large part by the way we answer these challenges to human dignity. I have faith, as I did when I announced my stem cell decision in 2001, that science and ethics can coexist. With thoughtful policy, we can usher in the new cures that Nancy Reagan hoped for, without moving toward the world foreseen by Aldous Huxley.

  After my address to the nation on stem cell research in August 2001, several commentators called it the most important decision of my presidency. That was true at the time, but not for long.

  *The famous actor who played Superman, Reeve was confined to a wheelchair after a horse-riding accident. Sadly, he died in October 2004, one day before Edwards’s statement.

  n Tuesday, September 11, 2001, I awoke before dawn in my suite at the Colony Beach and Tennis Resort near Sarasota, Florida. I started the morning by reading the Bible and then went downstairs for a run. It was pitch-black as I began my jog around the golf course. The Secret Service agents had grown accustomed to my exercise routine; the locals must have found this run in the dark a little bizarre.

  Back at the hotel, I took a quick shower, ate a light breakfast, and skimmed the morning papers. The biggest story was that Michael Jordan was coming out of retirement to rejoin the NBA. Other headlines focused on the New York mayoral primary and a suspected case of mad cow disease in Japan.

  Around 8:00 a.m., I received the Presidential Daily Briefing. The PDB, which combined highly classified intelligence with in-depth analysis of geopolitics, was one of the most fascinating parts of my day. The September 11 briefing, delivered by a bright CIA analyst named Mike Morell, covered Russia, China, and the Palestinian uprising in the West Bank and Gaza Strip.