It is bad form in the column-writing business to refer to your own past columns. But let me temporarily ignore that sensible injunction to recall a column written in June 1993–less than six months into Clinton’s presidency–that asserted: “he lies.” This reluctant conclusion had nothing to do with Clinton’s sex life. It concerned only policy and politics. I argued that Clinton’s regular lies courted trouble. They could undermine his presidency and deepen public cynicism toward national leaders. So it now seems.
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However the Lewinsky episode ends–whether or not the charges prove true–someone so often accused of lying is not likely to be wholly innocent. By now, this is conventional wisdom among Washington’s political elite. Still, they avoid the inflammatory “L word” by substituting euphemisms. Clinton gives the “non-denial denial” or is a “master of spin.” All these catch phrases recognize Clinton’s central conceit: that he can make the truth what he wishes through his command of language and his personal charm.
It is a mistake to think that the “bad” private Clinton is ruining the “good” public Clinton. There is a constancy of character between private and public, past and present. Clinton is the same man now who as governor caused Paul Greenberg, the editorial page editor of the Arkansas Democrat-Gazette, to call him “slick Willie.” His deceptions are not just a way to hide personal embarrassments but also to project his policies and political persona.
What I call a lie is the conscious effort to make something seem what it is not. This can mean outright untruths or calculated distortions, omissions and qualifications. The intent remains the same: To deceive. A small incident recounted in my 1993 column convinced me that Clinton is a compulsive liar. During one campaign debate, he was asked whether he supported higher auto fuel-efficiency requirements: a policy opposed by many autoworkers and one that could hurt him in Michigan.
No, he said. He favored “the goal” of better fuel efficiency, and “I defy you to find” evidence that he endorsed tougher regulation. Well, the evidence was on page 98 of “Putting People First,” the campaign’s manifesto. I pointed out the discrepancy to a high press aide, who denied a discrepancy existed. From this, I concluded that Clinton had a casual attitude toward truth that contaminated those about him.
All politicians (it will be said) bend the truth. This may be, but Clinton’s deceptions are routine and unending. What’s convenient is exaggerated. What’s not is denied or altered. In 1995, he told wealthy campaign contributors that he raised their taxes too much. Clinton probably felt that the throwaway line, which disavowed part of his budget plan, wouldn’t be noticed. When it was, he retracted it. “My mother once said I should never give a talk after 7 o’clock at night, especially if I’m tired,” he told reporters. They laughed; the incident was defused. Did his mother actually say this? Probably not.
Clinton’s deceptions have extended to weightier matters. In the 1992 campaign, he implied that he would enable most college students to pay for their tuition with two years of “national service”: an impossibly expensive plan. His national health proposal in 1993 was a bundle of contradictions whose existence he simply denied. In 1995, he denounced Republican Medicare plans by saying–untruthfully–that they would “destroy” the program.
Unlike many who find Clinton dishonest, I don’t think he’s evil. He’s a solid centrist, which is good. People rightly judge him sympathetic to their everyday concerns. Some of his policies (mainly on trade and global economics) I like; others I don’t. But Clinton is totally self-absorbed. What inhibits most people from routine lies is a sense of shame. Clinton seems to lack this.
Lies have consequences. Among politicians, Clinton inspires little trust. Because his word is not his bond, even his allies don’t bond with him. As a result, Clinton has few major legislative achievements. One accomplishment–narrowing the budget deficit–stems mainly from a strong economy and the end of the Cold War. Clinton’s style has also stifled debate on vital issues. For example, he has urged that the country prepare for the retirement of the baby boom. Good idea. The trouble is that Clinton has prevented a debate by attacking those who tried to start it. Stigmatizing the GOP Medicare proposals was but one example.
Even if Clinton recovers, he’s perpetuated inquisitional politics. Perhaps this is the worst consequence. People may distrust him, but they’re also rightly appalled by the process that’s wounded him. Investigations have lost proportion. The press badgers officials. Lines between public and private lives have blurred.
Something is askew. Partisans and the press need to exercise more self-restraint. The independent counsel law needs to be narrowed. But change requires a favoring climate: a president whose conduct does not invite and reward open-ended dredging for muck. Clinton has not been that president.