May 11, 2007
Gary Hart IV Posted by John Steele Gordon at 11:10 AM EST Count me in along with Fredric Smoler and Alexander Burns when it comes to wishing that the media would butt out of the private business of public men and women unless that private business is illegal or evidence of gross hypocrisy or other disqualification for office. But I think that the zone of privacy should extend not only to their sex lives, but to such things as their income taxes. I see no reason whatever why candidates and officeholders should make their private financial affairs public unless there is credible evidence of something nefarious going on. Unfortunately I doubt that that genie is going back in the bottle, although Mr. Smoler’s idea of a trust fund to out overly nosey journalists who themselves have feet of clay is an intriguing one. It would certainly be refreshing, however, if a candidate, asked an unnecessarily intrusive question, would simply say, “That’s none of your or anyone else’s damn business, and if you don’t like it I suggest you tell your readers to vote for my opponent.” I bet it would gain him votes. Members of the media, after all, are even less esteemed than politicians, if that’s possible. I am interested, however, that neither Mr. Burns nor Mr. Smoler mentioned the 800-pound gorilla of American sex scandals, the Monica Lewinsky uproar. People have argued that since both she and the President were of lawful age—and certainly Bill Clinton never campaigned on the strength of his moral rectitude—it was a private matter. Among those so arguing were prominent members of the feminist movement, showing no little hypocrisy themselves, or at least political selectivity. But then I’ve long argued that the National Organization for Women might a good deal more accurately be called the National Organization for Upper-Middle-Class Liberal Women. So should the press in a perfect world have ignored the evidence of the Lewinsky affair when it came to light? (We do not, of course, live in a perfect world, and I doubt if even some latter-day combination of William Allen White, Edward R. Murrow, and Walter Lippmann could have brought himself to suppress a story of such obviously gigantic news value.) My take is that the story was legitimate news. Bill Clinton was President of the United States, entrusted by the people with the country’s highest office, and as such had a profound obligation to behave himself in a manner that did credit to the country. Having a tawdry affair with a White House intern less than half his age in the White House itself was an outrageous violation of that duty and very much a matter of public concern. He disgraced himself and therefore, ex officio, disgraced the country. Since Presidents are judged in the court of history, I have no doubt that Clinton will pay a fearsome historical price for his dalliance. A hundred years from now, the average man in the street will know little more about him than the average man today knows about William McKinley. Except, of course, for one thing. Late-night comedians, circa 2107, will still be making jokes about it.
|
