MR CLINTON THE CHEERLEADER
Mr Clinton the CHEERLEADER
So just how will history view him?
BESIEGED by scandal, Bill Clinton broods on his place in history. For now, despite admittedly "misleading" (read: "lying to") the public about his sexual infidelity, most Americans still approve of Clinton's job performance.
It is in the service of this performance that he stops in Omagh today. Paying respects to a grieving, bomb-ravaged town is "presidential" - an adjective whose repeated application to Clinton betokens America's modern obsession with the cosmetic. In yesteryear, describing a president as presidential would have sounded self-evident, even witless.
Yet the mystery of Clinton's job-approval ratings is not the fast-forward sophistication of the American people, suddenly willing to overlook private indiscretion and public dishonesty in a politically effective president. The mystery is that a man fortunate enough to take the helm during fair weather is adulated as a brilliant navigator.
Clinton's foreign policy has been rudderless. By applauding it, Americans betray that they simply don't give a toss about foreign policy.
His record on Bosnia was dilatory, and even after the Dayton Accord, the region remains unstable. The signing of the Middle East's Oslo Accord was a great moment, but Clinton's administration has proved unequal to the fractious follow-up.
Earlier this year diplomatic credit for defusing the crisis over UN arms inspection teams in Iraq went rightly to UN Secretary-General Kofi Annan. In the face of reprise belligerence from Saddam Hussein this summer, the US has been indecisive, inattentive, even pliant.
Glad-handing visits to Africa and China drew frenzied media coverage. But aside from patting the heads of wide-eyed black children, Clinton has neglected Africa. The most enduring achievement of his China trip was an offended Taiwan.
The Good Friday Agreement is paramount in Northern Ireland. But Ulster is tangential to US interests, and the GFA will constitute a mere footnote to Clinton's presidency. Besides, the real team captains were Blair and Ahern, the crucial players local politicians. Clinton was a cheerleader.
On the home front, Clinton's accomplishments are meagre. Promised revamping of health care and campaign financing are dead in the water.
Surprising successful welfare reforms were primarily the handiwork of his Republican adversaries.
In an area where firm liberal leadership would have been welcome -gays in the military -Clinton's craven compromise of look-the-other-way was designed to please everyone, and so pleased no one.
To date the biggest feather in Clinton's cap is America's vigorous economy. But this vitality may not be to his credit, any more than this last week's Wall Street meltdown, triggered by Asian and Russian recessions, was Clinton's fault. The US economy is too complex and international to be lain solely at a president's door.
At best, Clinton hasn't blown it, like an heir who can't be admired for earning his fortune, but can at least be commended for not frittering his legacy on sports cars.
In Clinton's defence, he's been hobbled by a hostile Congress and dogged by the Special Prosecutor. But in this era of America's supremacy and domestic prosperity, he might have exploited a few corresponding opportunities for extraordinary statesmanship.
Instead, Clinton has specialised at show -pomp and smooth talk, glib exhortations to honour that in his personal life he feels no need to heed. He looks and sounds presidential, in contrast to the likes of Jimmy Carter, to whom Americans objected less for his policies or character than for his dress sense.
Sold on politicians by their packaging, Americans no longer seem to care what's inside. If it walks like a president and talks like a president, it's a president.
Clinton's visit to Omagh is decent and warranted. His visit may prove moving, since this is just the sort of ceremony at which he excels.
Yet to whatever fractional degree he is distracting the media from the Lewinsky debacle, or basking in the unqualified admiration that he can only find abroad, Clinton is doing a disservice to the town. To whatever degree he consoles victims and their families, the gesture well merits one day in his hectic schedule.
Clinton can't lose in Omagh, and so puts little on the line besides his time. Clinton himself urged Northern Ireland to take "risks for peace", but the only risks he's taken in office so far have been with a 21-year-old intern.
Behind his high job-approval rating may lie not sophistication but venality - horror of rocking the boat, a crass concern for perpetuating lucrative returns on mutual-fund investments.
But history demands better than a balanced cheque book. Unless he pulls a rabbit out of a hat in the next two years, Bill Clinton is destined to be remembered not for helping to solve the Irish question, nor for staying the course in an era of economic clear sailing, but for dragging his country's public discourse into the gutter.
Lionel Shriver divides her time between Belfast and New York.
So just how will history view him?
BESIEGED by scandal, Bill Clinton broods on his place in history. For now, despite admittedly "misleading" (read: "lying to") the public about his sexual infidelity, most Americans still approve of Clinton's job performance.
It is in the service of this performance that he stops in Omagh today. Paying respects to a grieving, bomb-ravaged town is "presidential" - an adjective whose repeated application to Clinton betokens America's modern obsession with the cosmetic. In yesteryear, describing a president as presidential would have sounded self-evident, even witless.
Yet the mystery of Clinton's job-approval ratings is not the fast-forward sophistication of the American people, suddenly willing to overlook private indiscretion and public dishonesty in a politically effective president. The mystery is that a man fortunate enough to take the helm during fair weather is adulated as a brilliant navigator.
Clinton's foreign policy has been rudderless. By applauding it, Americans betray that they simply don't give a toss about foreign policy.
His record on Bosnia was dilatory, and even after the Dayton Accord, the region remains unstable. The signing of the Middle East's Oslo Accord was a great moment, but Clinton's administration has proved unequal to the fractious follow-up.
Earlier this year diplomatic credit for defusing the crisis over UN arms inspection teams in Iraq went rightly to UN Secretary-General Kofi Annan. In the face of reprise belligerence from Saddam Hussein this summer, the US has been indecisive, inattentive, even pliant.
Glad-handing visits to Africa and China drew frenzied media coverage. But aside from patting the heads of wide-eyed black children, Clinton has neglected Africa. The most enduring achievement of his China trip was an offended Taiwan.
The Good Friday Agreement is paramount in Northern Ireland. But Ulster is tangential to US interests, and the GFA will constitute a mere footnote to Clinton's presidency. Besides, the real team captains were Blair and Ahern, the crucial players local politicians. Clinton was a cheerleader.
On the home front, Clinton's accomplishments are meagre. Promised revamping of health care and campaign financing are dead in the water.
Surprising successful welfare reforms were primarily the handiwork of his Republican adversaries.
In an area where firm liberal leadership would have been welcome -gays in the military -Clinton's craven compromise of look-the-other-way was designed to please everyone, and so pleased no one.
To date the biggest feather in Clinton's cap is America's vigorous economy. But this vitality may not be to his credit, any more than this last week's Wall Street meltdown, triggered by Asian and Russian recessions, was Clinton's fault. The US economy is too complex and international to be lain solely at a president's door.
At best, Clinton hasn't blown it, like an heir who can't be admired for earning his fortune, but can at least be commended for not frittering his legacy on sports cars.
In Clinton's defence, he's been hobbled by a hostile Congress and dogged by the Special Prosecutor. But in this era of America's supremacy and domestic prosperity, he might have exploited a few corresponding opportunities for extraordinary statesmanship.
Instead, Clinton has specialised at show -pomp and smooth talk, glib exhortations to honour that in his personal life he feels no need to heed. He looks and sounds presidential, in contrast to the likes of Jimmy Carter, to whom Americans objected less for his policies or character than for his dress sense.
Sold on politicians by their packaging, Americans no longer seem to care what's inside. If it walks like a president and talks like a president, it's a president.
Clinton's visit to Omagh is decent and warranted. His visit may prove moving, since this is just the sort of ceremony at which he excels.
Yet to whatever fractional degree he is distracting the media from the Lewinsky debacle, or basking in the unqualified admiration that he can only find abroad, Clinton is doing a disservice to the town. To whatever degree he consoles victims and their families, the gesture well merits one day in his hectic schedule.
Clinton can't lose in Omagh, and so puts little on the line besides his time. Clinton himself urged Northern Ireland to take "risks for peace", but the only risks he's taken in office so far have been with a 21-year-old intern.
Behind his high job-approval rating may lie not sophistication but venality - horror of rocking the boat, a crass concern for perpetuating lucrative returns on mutual-fund investments.
But history demands better than a balanced cheque book. Unless he pulls a rabbit out of a hat in the next two years, Bill Clinton is destined to be remembered not for helping to solve the Irish question, nor for staying the course in an era of economic clear sailing, but for dragging his country's public discourse into the gutter.
Lionel Shriver divides her time between Belfast and New York.
Further Information
Publisher: BELFAST TELEGRAPH
Ref: BT/0372
Published Date: 03-Sep-98
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