Clinton's Last Scene
According to Howard Fineman, Newsweek's resident Clinton apologist and synchophant, Bill Clinton is now "beloved" by America. Somehow, in just over four years, Fineman honestly believes this impeached, disgraced, and utterly classless hill-billy has been transformed into America's Pope John Paul.
But puppy love is blinding, and Fineman has never really been able to see the truth about the former president. Discussing Clinton on Chris Matthews' "Hardball", Fineman acted once again like a smitten school girl, just back from the supermarket with the latest copy of Tiger Beat, and predictably, Matthews was not much better. The only things missing were the pink heart pillows and nail polish.
They, of course, are not alone in the media world. Katie Couric, for starters, has never even tried to disguise the hero-worship, as well as an evident but thoroughly unfathomable sexual attraction to Clinton. During interviews, Couric would lean in so close to Clinton, she might as well have been sitting on his lap, her perky little face frozen in an expression of longing and awe like the gawky freshman dancing with the senior Homecoming king.
Fineman, like all romantics, sees what he wishes to see. During Clinton's disastrous eight years, Fineman never saw failed domestic policies, dangerous international appeasement, or rank administration corruption. He certainly could never bring himself to confront Clinton's dark and creepy personal behavior, or the fact that the Presidency itself was horribly sullied by this Ozark narcissist. Like the brow-beaten victim in an abusive relationship, Fineman was always there to defend Clinton at every opportunity, and deflect the blame to others, usually right-leaning Republicans who just never could see what a great guy Billy really was, or how smart he was, or how he just wanted the best for everybody, after all.
Now, with the passage of a few short years, he believes Clinton has become a "beloved" figure, whose enemies no longer can muster the passion to hate him. "The sense exists, perhaps grows more vivid" writes Fineman, "that Bill Clinton somehow embodies us all". But once again, Fineman's own passion for his amour eternel leads to false conclusions.
To appreciate why Fineman has always missed the point, it is necessary to understand that Clinton's national political life has always been a grand off-Broadway production, heavy on the special effects and light on the character development. His dramatic opening scene, when he emerged young and vibrant from a hick state as a long shot underdog, was met with audience titters of intrigue. Later when he ran an unexpectedly strong middle-ground campaign, most in the audience were not impressed, but those who were gave him a standing ovation and the presidency. As the curtain rose on his first term, with a slowly emerging boom-economy as a result of the last leading man, the audience felt comfortable, but carefully hesitant. As this scene progressed, audience members began to realize that a deeply flawed and pathetic character stood before them. After the intermission, with scandal after scandal playing out on the stage, many in the audience felt disgust, but many felt pangs of sympathy for the antagonist with the pouty lips and ready tear. As the play's climax approached, and the actor's complete moral and ethical corruption was dramatically exposed, most in the audience felt sick and repelled. As the crescendo of impeachment faded away, the audience began to filter out of the grand hall, leaving a shamed and often reviled player standing nearly alone in the spotlight. As his final scene nears, the actor desperately searches the empty seats for anyone who remembers his days of glory and world acclaim, but the audience has abandoned the Arkansan for a Texan. Today, at this stage in Clinton's performance piece, what Fineman sees is not a warm embracing love, but simply the final audience emotions in Clinton's uninterrupted one-man performance: pity for an actor once energetic and now ragged, once strong and now frail, once powerful and now deathly ill. Clinton, in spite of all the grandiose claims of talent and intellect and charisma, is simply the dying fox caught in the winter trap, bleeding his life inexorably away in near complete isolation.
Fineman is right about one thing. There is really nothing left of Clinton to hate anymore.
But puppy love is blinding, and Fineman has never really been able to see the truth about the former president. Discussing Clinton on Chris Matthews' "Hardball", Fineman acted once again like a smitten school girl, just back from the supermarket with the latest copy of Tiger Beat, and predictably, Matthews was not much better. The only things missing were the pink heart pillows and nail polish.
They, of course, are not alone in the media world. Katie Couric, for starters, has never even tried to disguise the hero-worship, as well as an evident but thoroughly unfathomable sexual attraction to Clinton. During interviews, Couric would lean in so close to Clinton, she might as well have been sitting on his lap, her perky little face frozen in an expression of longing and awe like the gawky freshman dancing with the senior Homecoming king.
Fineman, like all romantics, sees what he wishes to see. During Clinton's disastrous eight years, Fineman never saw failed domestic policies, dangerous international appeasement, or rank administration corruption. He certainly could never bring himself to confront Clinton's dark and creepy personal behavior, or the fact that the Presidency itself was horribly sullied by this Ozark narcissist. Like the brow-beaten victim in an abusive relationship, Fineman was always there to defend Clinton at every opportunity, and deflect the blame to others, usually right-leaning Republicans who just never could see what a great guy Billy really was, or how smart he was, or how he just wanted the best for everybody, after all.
Now, with the passage of a few short years, he believes Clinton has become a "beloved" figure, whose enemies no longer can muster the passion to hate him. "The sense exists, perhaps grows more vivid" writes Fineman, "that Bill Clinton somehow embodies us all". But once again, Fineman's own passion for his amour eternel leads to false conclusions.
To appreciate why Fineman has always missed the point, it is necessary to understand that Clinton's national political life has always been a grand off-Broadway production, heavy on the special effects and light on the character development. His dramatic opening scene, when he emerged young and vibrant from a hick state as a long shot underdog, was met with audience titters of intrigue. Later when he ran an unexpectedly strong middle-ground campaign, most in the audience were not impressed, but those who were gave him a standing ovation and the presidency. As the curtain rose on his first term, with a slowly emerging boom-economy as a result of the last leading man, the audience felt comfortable, but carefully hesitant. As this scene progressed, audience members began to realize that a deeply flawed and pathetic character stood before them. After the intermission, with scandal after scandal playing out on the stage, many in the audience felt disgust, but many felt pangs of sympathy for the antagonist with the pouty lips and ready tear. As the play's climax approached, and the actor's complete moral and ethical corruption was dramatically exposed, most in the audience felt sick and repelled. As the crescendo of impeachment faded away, the audience began to filter out of the grand hall, leaving a shamed and often reviled player standing nearly alone in the spotlight. As his final scene nears, the actor desperately searches the empty seats for anyone who remembers his days of glory and world acclaim, but the audience has abandoned the Arkansan for a Texan. Today, at this stage in Clinton's performance piece, what Fineman sees is not a warm embracing love, but simply the final audience emotions in Clinton's uninterrupted one-man performance: pity for an actor once energetic and now ragged, once strong and now frail, once powerful and now deathly ill. Clinton, in spite of all the grandiose claims of talent and intellect and charisma, is simply the dying fox caught in the winter trap, bleeding his life inexorably away in near complete isolation.
Fineman is right about one thing. There is really nothing left of Clinton to hate anymore.
posted by Mark Outland at 3:24 PM
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