Zippergate

Strangely, the scandal has developed an instructive edge

The lastest Clinton scandal has provided the president's enemies with new ammunition to use against him, caused consternation among his supporters, and supplied wits of all political stripes with material for countless jokes. It's also given the nation an inadvertent but important civics lesson.

The public has emerged as a voice of reason. Polls show that Americans are not bothered by the sexual allegations against the president nearly as much as they are by the allegations that he lied -- or asked others to lie for him. The Phoenix has long held that the government has no place in the sex lives of consenting adults. Americans seem to agree. Why should there be any exception here?

What has been odious is Clinton's unwillingness to believe in the public's maturity. Forthrightness early on would have prevented a lot of distraction later. So far, though, Clinton has behaved like a teen who does not understand that parents find nothing so disappointing as a lie.

Now the story is taking on deeper meaning. Last week, independent counsel Ken Starr issued a grand jury subpoena to White House staffer (and former Phoenix writer) Sidney Blumenthal to demand that he detail any attempts he made to give the press information critical of the Starr team. As many commentators have pointed out, this attempt at intimidation was a stab at a core purpose of the First Amendment: to protect criticism of government officials. Here, then, was a concrete example of the general principle: without freedom of speech, the government's power would be virtually unchecked. The state would be free to determine the official "truth" -- and to punish those who dissent.

We do not think the point has gone unnoticed. Even former Nixon speechwriter and conservative New York Times columnist William Safire has urged Starr to ignore Clinton's attacks, proceed with his investigation, and let history judge the result.

Indeed, this has been the most valuable consequence of the Starr investigation: a very public reminder of the importance of civil liberties. As Phoenix legal writer Harvey Silverglate has argued in these pages ("Starr Chamber," February 6, 1998), Starr is not so much an overzealous independent prosecutor as he is a typical federal prosecutor. With the entire nation watching, he has revealed the techniques federal prosecutors can -- and do -- bring to bear: bullying vulnerable citizens, often without their lawyers present, in an effort to turn them into witnesses; making regular invasions of privacy, secretly recording the most intimate words between friends; compelling a parent to testify against her own child; and even dangling offers of immunity if the witness will testify to the "facts" the prosecutor is looking for. (As Alan Dershowitz has said, these prosecutors teach witnesses not only to sing, but to compose.) This is not America.

The Phoenix hopes that the revulsion Americans now feel toward Starr will fuel a reform of what he represents. When should the government be able to record personal conversations? When does the power to grant immunity become the power to manufacture testimony? Should parent-child communications be legally protected, as are attorney-client discussions? How, in a system based on checks and balances, can we guarantee that even society's most powerless citizens cannot be abused by their own government? These are all critical questions in a democracy.

Of course, there is more to the Lewinsky affair than a civics lesson. It is the great disappointment of the Clinton presidency that a man of such unquestioned intelligence -- and unparalleled political skills -- has not been able to handle his office with the grace that has marked this country's finest leaders.

But Clinton's alleged sexual liaison, and the alleged cover-up of it, do not amount to a plot to subvert the democracy. Zippergate is no Watergate.

What do you think? Send an e-mail to letters[a]phx.com.