A matter of proportion

The case against impeachment

Since the day Bill Clinton entered the White House, conservative Republicans -- especially the antigovernment, anti-abortion, anti-gay forces from the Bible and Sun Belts -- have had it in for the president. That the nation's reactionaries would want to neuter a formidable political moderate is understandable. Today's GOP is animated by the spirit of Barry Goldwater: it believes that extremism in the defense of its God-given ideals is no vice.

Clinton engenders as potent a sense of revulsion among right-wingers as Richard Nixon did among liberals and the left. That may seem strange to those who see Clinton not as an ideologue but as a synthesizer and improviser (at best) or an opportunist (at worst). But hated he is and, in some quarters, hated he shall remain. What the voters denied the Republicans at the polls this November, the Republicans now seek to capture by parliamentary maneuver.

Up until this year, Clinton has been fortunate in his choice of enemies: bullyboy Newt Gingrich, pinched Trent Lott, sanctimonious Orrin Hatch, reptilian Jesse Helms. Clinton may not have accomplished as much as the electorate had hoped, but at least he succeeded in largely foiling these men and their designs. That is, no doubt, why they hound him with such punishing vigor, and why the House Judiciary Committee is weighing impeachment. But it turns out that his own worst enemy has been himself.

When the nation elected and then reelected Clinton, it chose a known philanderer. History shows that this wasn't the first time, and human nature suggests that it won't be the last. What is noteworthy is that despite the genuinely conservative and increasingly puritanical temper of the times, a majority of the nation chose a man it knew to be less than perfect.

Clinton's supporters thought -- or hoped -- that the aphrodisiac of presidential power would act as a check to balance his libido. It was not to be. Clinton's friends and foes alike now face the consequences of that miscalculation.

Nevertheless, we believe that independent counsel Ken Starr's multiple investigations have been malicious and may be criminally irresponsible. Despite a handful of convictions, Whitewater was essentially a washout. Filegate was a bust. Despite the obvious ham-handedness of Travelgate, no criminal behavior has been uncovered. And as for the sad suicide of White House lawyer Vince Foster, the loose talk of a conspiracy by assassins unknown is only a paranoid afterthought.

There are remaining allegations of campaign-finance irregularities, which if properly investigated might supply evidence of questionable practices or outright wrongdoing. But our suspicion is that for all the Republicans' bluster, they are just as happy to flog Clinton and Al Gore with allegations and hope the matter drops. There is more than enough taint of dirty money to tar both political parties.

That brings us to Monica Lewinsky. Future students of deviant presidential behavior will no doubt revel in the irony that it was Clinton's mostly uncompleted forays into oral sex with this young woman that may bring his administration to its knees.

Clinton was a fool. It's bad enough that he did what he did, but he compounded his recklessness by lying to his staff and cabinet, the political establishment, and the public. Is that a violation of a priceless trust? Yes. Is it an abuse of power? Absolutely not.

The question is, did Clinton lie under oath? As we go to press, both sides are combing through a thicket of legalities to get at an answer.

The answer, however, should be irrelevant to the impeachment proceedings. Clinton's lies to the nation -- reprehensible though they may be -- do not rise to the level of an impeachable offense. And even if it is established that he lied under oath to the grand juries investigating the Paula Jones or Lewinsky affairs, neither offense would hit the mark. Impeachment is for high crimes against the state, not base crimes of personal misconduct.

If Clinton is indeed held to be guilty of perjury, the relevant court can deal with the matter once he leaves office. (Although Bill Weld, a former Justice Department official who opposes impeachment, has said that such a prosecution would be out of the ordinary.) But at the moment, the stakes are too high. If the Judiciary Committee recommends impeachment and the House accepts that recommendation, the trial in the Senate -- which would be presided over by the Chief Justice of the Supreme Court -- would bring the Senate, the High Court, and, indeed, the nation to a virtual standstill. Those who seek such action are as reckless in their public behavior as Clinton has been in his private life.

The umbrella of scandals known as Watergate set the standard for what is and isn't impeachable. And while Clinton, like Nixon, has proven to be a liar, the context of his lies is very different. Nixon sought to enlist the CIA, the FBI, and the IRS to persecute his political opponents -- and, when that wasn't enough, formed a White House-based goon squad to carry out the dirty work. When caught, he lied and covered up. But there is a world of difference between trying to cover up constitutional crimes and lying about extramarital affairs. Anyone familiar with Richard Nixon should realize that Bill Clinton is no Nixon. He may deserve censure, but he doesn't deserve to be driven from office.

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