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BILL CLINTON
Beyond the Monica MessPresident Bill
Clinton's "inappropriate" relation with a young White House intern has
implications that cut across boundaries. Beyond the salacious details lie fundamental
questions about an impaired American presidency in a unipolar world. An on-the-spot
report.
By Swapan Dasgupta in Washington DC
Among the few post-retirement benefits a president of
the United States enjoys is the establishment of an archive dedicated to his White House
years. When William Jefferson Clinton takes his last bow from the White House -- either in
2001 or, like Richard Nixon, prematurely -- he will be forced to confront history. Should
he highlight his record as the leader who presided over America's most prosperous era this
century? Should he emphasise his achievement as the visionary who rescued American
liberalism from the stranglehold of the loony fringe and mounted a spirited assault on the
New Right? Alternately, should he bury individual achievement and celebrate his presidency
as a monument to the '60s generation? The generation that successfully coupled high
thinking with low living.
If the prevailing mood "inside the beltway" --
Washington's euphemism for the most chattering of the chattering classes -- is anything to
go by, Bill Clinton shouldn't even try. If the morally indignant had their way, he should
fade away into the Little Rock sunset with the unfortunate Hillary Clinton -- or whoever
else in a blue Gap dress that catches his fancy -- in tow. Alternately, he should utilise
his talents documenting the epidemic of bad jokes that followed the publication of the
best-selling Starr report, a document that the New York Times (NYT) believed "exposed
the completeness of President Clinton's mendacity" and "tawdriness of his
tastes". The explosion of black humour flows from grim reality. When the
over-sanctimonious independent counsel kenneth Starr -- his 96-year-old mother claimed to
have "started him from babyhood to know right from wrong" -- documented the
president's phenomenal ability to combine pleasure with work, Clinton promptly discovered
religion. "I have sinned," he announced publicly and quoted Psalm 51, the
greatest Biblical expression of contrition.
RENUKA CHOWDHURY
Former health minister
No one has the
right to mix bedroom behaviour with politics. |
It was an expedient diversion. Unfortunately for
Clinton, sin is not at the heart of the furious controversy that has unsettled the world
and given America the shivers. Of the 11 counts listed by Starr as possible grounds for
impeachment of the president, the violation of one of the 10 Commandments is missing.
Clinton is anxious to present his dalliance with the 25-year-old White House intern Monica
Lewinsky as a Mills and Boon-type office fling that was daring, torrid, ended in tears and
was bad enough for his career. he is even willing to admit to "moral failure".
But he remains defiant in his unwillingness to utter the two words that Americans want to
hear from their president: "I lied."
Clinton is being far too clever for his own good. With one
eye constantly on the opinion polls, that continue to show a staggering 58 per cent
approval rating (for governance, not morals) -- the support is mainly from blacks, women
and the lower middle class -- he is counting on a popular backlash against
over-intrusiveness into the personal lives of public figures. he is playing for time,
combining a sham repentance with delicious public hair-splitting over the exact meaning of
sex. No wonder Maureen Dowd, the high priestess of political snobbery in the NYT, is so
thoroughly outraged. "Clinton's greatest sin is not sex or dissembling about sex ...
His greatest sin is swindling and perverting the American language. He is like the cursed
girl in the fairy tale: every time he opens his mouth a toad jumps out."
GIRISH KARNAD
Playwright
Leave the poor fellow alone. If
he has committed perjury the system will deal with it. |
The disgust is universal, not least among those who
call themselves the DDD -- Deeply Distressed democrats. "It's disgusting," says
the Washington Post's Stephen S. Rosenfeld. "I'm embarrassed for America,"
admits Governor George W. Bush of Texas, the man most likely to lead the Republican charge
against Vice-President Al Gore in 2000. The world's most powerful country has reason to
squirm. "De-facto, if not de jure, the president of the US is now a criminal and a
felon," writes British journalist Ambrose Evans-Pritchard who has been doggedly
pursuing Clinton's sleaze trail from Arkansas. "American Caligula" echoes the
venerable Wall Street Journal.
With the world's media taking up every available hotel room
in Washington DC in anticipation of more "bimbo eruptions" and alarmed parents
demanding professional guidance to explain phone sex to pesky kids, it is not merely the
president's moral authority that has been compromised. America has been humiliated and,
worse, cheapened. The ignominy was in full evidence last Thursday when a sullen Clinton
fielded pointed questions on Monica in the presence of Czech President Vaclav Havel.
"There are some things which I don't understand," said a suitably diplomatic
Havel.
Nor can the rest of the world come to terms with an America
in moral turmoil, particularly when it involves tv documentaries -- complete with a
resident shrink -- on Hillary's post-Starr body language. Equally baffling are the
labyrinthine ways of the American Constitution. Impeachment for subverting justice and
perjury may be what the independent prosecutor -- a Yankee Lokpal that was created by
vengeful Democrats in 1978 in the aftermath of Watergate -- ordered. But Starr's
recommendation has to be processed by the House of Representatives judiciary committee. To
make up its mind, the committee doesn't merely look at the facts, it tracks every opinion
poll with slavish dedication. Every American has become a juror. Which is why if Clinton's
ratings register a dip, the issue will be sent to the full House. The House, in turn, has
the option of recommending impeachment proceedings to the Senate -- the ultimate arbiter.
But any final decision will be guided by the ubiquitous opinion poll. "If the
American public," wrote a Philadelphia man to the washington Post, "could stop
acting like lab rats for just one minute, maybe our political leaders would be compelled
to do something they are plainly terrified of doing: speak their minds."
Terrified or not, until the popular message is more
categorical, the political action will resemble a halal killing -- a steady flow of blood
culminating in a slow, excruciatingly painful death and wonderful gastronomy. "It is
possible that washington may not think of anything else for the next 26 months," says
David Shibman, bureau chief of The Boston Globe. "India was the seventh country to go
nuclear. This is only the third time Americans are experiencing a possible impeachment.
It's twice as novel."
RAHUL BAJAJ
Industrialist
Clinton cannot
lecture others. But that does not mean he cannot govern. |
The novelty also stems from a desire to explore a
rarely visited clause of the US Constitution that centres on the definition of "high
crimes and misdemeanours". The offence has no real parallel in ordinary criminal law.
Hardly surprising because the "words of art" were directly borrowed from 14th
century England when the King's Chancellor, the Earl of Suffolk, was impeached for the
misappropriation of public funds. Some 400 years later, the conservative thinker and
parliamentarian Edmund Burke attempted a definition during the trial of India's first
governor-general Warren Hastings. Burke maintained that the abuses of power should be
determined "not upon the niceties of narrow jurisprudence but upon the larger
principles of morality". "The purpose of impeachment," writes conservative
columnist George F. Will in the washington Post, "is not punishment. It is civic
hygiene, the health of the Republic." Agrees Rosenfeld: "To assert equality
before the law, we have to pay a price."
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