Foul play

National Review, Sept 14, 1998 by William F. Buckley, Jr.

NEW YORK, AUGUST 18

The evidence is that David Kendall and William Clinton think together in absolute pitch. In speaking of Mr. Kendall I pause parenthetically to say he is a personal friend and I am one of his clients. But when he left the White House on Monday one knew instantly that the polemical dog would rule the roost that evening. Did we, in a one-minute speech, really need to be reminded, for the one-millionth time, that the investigation had cost forty million dollars? For one thing, forty million dollars as a federal expense is not all that big a deal, about the price of one torpedo. But more pointedly, what would the cost of the investigation have been if Mr. Kendall's client had cooperated and told the truth about matters under investigation? A hundred dollars? That the exploration began with an oddball financial deal in Little Rock is as irrelevant as that the big oil strike in East Texas began as an exploration for drinking water. One thing led to another. If an investigation of a case of double parking leads you to a serial murderer, should we regret that the curiosity was sparked?

aaWe could tell, from Mr. Kendall's truculent mini-statement, that Mr. Clinton would do no more than another version of it. "Directions to Speechwriters: Compose something that leaves the impression that, yes, man is born to sin, but what's special about this business is that the so-called investigators are interested in my private life, and that life belongs to me and Hillary and Chelsea, and we must get on with the great promises of America" blah blah. A few minutes before the speech began, Jeff Greenfield, presiding over CNN's coverage, opined that after the speech was over, the President's ratings would rise.

"Why?" he was asked.

Because they always rise, after a presidential speech. Mr. Greenfield could think of no exception.

It requires effort to resist demagogic appeal, but the effort is worth it, and it hinges on the argument that we are intruding on Mr. Clinton's private life.

Anything that is private is rendered semi-public or public if it catches a public hook. How much money you have is your business, unless you want to build a house and take out a mortgage. Then it is also the business of the lending organization. If you patronize a speakeasy and a bust is ordered and your name is taken, your private right to consume liquor becomes the stuff of a public datum. If you lie about it you step through the window of privacy into the public street. If you insinuate to the arresting officer that better days are in store for him if he just forgets about it, you are obstructing justice and suborning perjury and all that stuff. There is no way, if reflection is given to the question, to shrug it off with: All he wanted was just a little drink.

What is absolutely private and should always remain so is the way in which Mr. Clinton handled his problem when speaking to his wife and child. On that subject we should all be silent. But if the aggressor turns to us and holds us responsible for difficulties he has in communicating with wife and child, we are entitled to say to him, You are a coward and a disreputable human being.

At which point you stop and ask: Is this an aberrant position? With some relief one finds the morning column from Andy Rooney. "One of the things I know about myself," he begins, "is that I am quite average and normal. My reaction to things is usually the same reaction everyone else has. If I want to know what people think, I think about what I'm thinking."

And he concludes the column, "It's difficult to look at him without thinking about [what he did]. And it's something I don't want to think about. If my brain was my hands, I'd go run it under a faucet." What we need now is a faucet big enough to relieve the entire population, even if it costs another forty million dollars.