Doug Wead was presumably aware of the commonly held view that it isn't very nice to secretly tape-record conversations with your friends and then release those tapes to the New York Times.
Wead also could no doubt have surmised that when he did so, the friend in question, George W. Bush, would not react with gratitude. (Especially because one tape revealed Bush essentially admitting to past marijuana use.)
Yet somehow Bush, or his allies, managed to make these issues far more compelling to Wead after the fact than they ever had been before. Earlier this week, Wead was proclaiming that he made his tapes of Bush public for the sake of "history." Perhaps the large pile of money he stood to gain from his forthcoming book also factored into his decision. But within a couple days he was desperately backpedaling. On Wednesday, he announced that "I have come to realize that personal relationships are more important than history." He pledged to direct all book profits to charity and to hand the tapes over to Bush.
Most presidents have to face betrayal sooner or later. (See John Dean revealing Nixon's cover-up, or David Stockman revealing the underside of Reagan's fiscal policies.) What's uncanny about the Bush administration is that its dissidents invariably recant, usually in zombie-like fashion.
Enough apostate Bush loyalists have retracted their heretical views that certain recognizable tropes have emerged. First, the heretic's repudiation of his own deeds should obviously contradict his own principles. Take the first known example of the type, Rep. Charlie Norwood (R-Ga.). A former dentist, Norwood had grown infuriated at the callousness of health maintenance organizations and made a patient's bill of rights his crusade.
Bush sought to kill Norwood's bill by promoting a toothless, industry-friendly alternative. In the spring of 2001, Norwood blasted Bush's sham bill as worse than the status quo and vowed to "personally exhaust every effort to defeat" Bush's plan. Then Norwood was summoned to the White House. As one newspaper reported, he "emerged from the hourlong meeting looking haggard" and instantly announced his support for Bush's bill.
Norwood's only explanation for renouncing his life's work was that "what I'm against is not having a change in the law." (To the surprise of no sentient observer, no patient's bill of rights was ever enacted.)
