And a good thing, too, if true: it would test the elasticity of the American political system for a president to get much lower than Clinton had lurched so early in his term. Last week the president appeared buoyant, confident once more during a run of public appearances-so comfortable, and, for the most part, convincing that one wondered where this guy, the Bill Clinton America thought it had elected president, had been hiding the last few months. Was David Gergen that good? Or was Clinton simply due for a break in the weather? “It doesn’t matter,” said one White House aide. “Making judgments on the basis of any week, or even [any] hundred days, is like pulling a plant up by its roots to see if it’s growing. Let’s look at the balance sheet next January. Meanwhile, there is a sense around here of having turned a corner.”
Or, at least, of having settled-finally-into an internal administrative scheme that made some sense. Gergen, Mack MeLarty and George Stephanopoulos had emerged as the three lead players in the Clinton White House. Chief of staff McLarty is gatekeeper and traffic cop, focusing on process rather than policy, strategy or message. Gergen is Mr. Outside, presenting the new, improved, deft, decisive (notice how often that word, as well as the concept of “linedrawing,” has insinuated itself into the presidential rhetoric) and suitably polished Bill Clinton to the world. George Stephanopoulos-liberated from the press room and happy at last-is Mr. Inside, reprising the role he played through much of the campaign, fighting fires, working on policy and legislative strategy, making sure that every haircut is an unobtrusive one. “We’re getting better,” says a topaide. “We’re sensing problems, and taking care of them, before they erupt.”
There may even have been some, well, art in the high-risk, hands-off strategy, conceived by the formerly clueless congressional liaison Howard Paster, that enabled a bill (vaguely) resembling Clinton’s budget plan to emerge from the Senate Finance Committee last week (chart). This was a significant gamble: there was a good chance that the senators-an especially headstrong and infantile lot–would run off in different directions, unable to reach agreement. But agreement was reached, nurtured by committee chair Daniel Patrick Moynihan of New York (“We have known the academic Moynihan,” said one colleague. “We are now reminded that Moynihan grew up in Hell’s Kitchen.”) and Senate Majority Leader George Mitchell.
There were some breaks along the way: the relentlessly gassy David Boren of Oklahoma was too busy shepherding his campaign-reform bill-another Clinton victory-through the Senate to cause much trouble on the budget. Montana’s Max Baucus, who’d gotten lucky early in the process when he’d rolled the president on Western mining and grazing fees (one of Clinton’s worst moments), was made to understand that he was overreaching and quietly stowed his objections to a fuels tax, which emerged from committee at a measly 4.3 cents per gallon.
Closing loopholes: New Jersey’s Bill Bradley found the crucial piece of the puzzle, locating $12.3 billion to help pay for a decreased energy tax by eliminating some of the business tax incentives favored by the president (although the senator did manage to preserve a tax break for Puerto Rico favored by some of the more prominent corporations in his state). None of this was likely to impress Republicans, who have a curious way of calculating the spendingcuts-to-tax-increase ratio: they consider loophole closing-like Clinton’s proposal to reduce the deductibility of business meals from 80 to 50 percent-a tax increase; thus, Bob Dole can say that the Clinton plan is 3-to-I taxes to cuts.
So the budget bill lives, and it-or something like it-is likely to receive 51 votes in the Senate before Independence Day. And then the real game begins: the attempt to reconcile the House and Senate versions, which will take place in the dead of summer and should be completed by Labor Day. The president, who has not endorsed the Senate’s changes, will re-emerge then, “big time,” said one adviser, with three priorities: to put more money into tax credits for the working poor (Clinton will look to restore half the $10.4 billion slashed by the Senate); to include the House’s “empowerment zone” legislation (ignored by the Senate for technical reasons), and to fight for a broader, deeper energy tax to pay for those changes. Clinton’s performance at that point will be his next big-and, perhaps, last-chance to reverse the squishy reputation he has gained in Congress.
Low interest: It is important to keep this battle in perspective, though. Bill Bradley and most others in the Beltway penumbra see the deficit reduction promised in Clinton’s budget plan as a crucial economic issue: “I am told by knowledgeable people in the financial community that if we pass this package and the [spending] cuts that will come in September, interest rates will decrease by another [half a percent],” the senator says. “The longer we can keep interest rates at these low levels, the more efficient our economy will become.”
But then interest rates already are at 20-year lows-and the president’s approval rating is matching them. The truth is, a Clinton victory in what promises to be a very dramatic fight won’t have much immediate impact at all on the daily lives of most Americans, with the exception of two groups-the working poor, who will be much better off (because of the earned-income tax credit, which will raise the income of every working family above the poverty line); and the wealthy, who will bleed. “It’ll also have an impact on the folks who feel they always get screwed and the rich people get off easy,” said one hopeful Clinton adviser, “This time it’s clear the wealthy are taking a hit.”
The trouble is, “the folks” were looking for more than vengeance. They voted for Clinton because he promised an “economic”-not just a “deficit reduction”-plan. They were hoping for greater educational and employment opportunities, a deeper sense of personal security; they bought his rhetoric about “investment” in their future-the trade-off they were willing to make was higher taxes for greater security. This plan doesn’t do much about that: given the profound uncertainties inherent in the new global economy, no plausible plan could. But Clinton had raised those hopes during the campaign, inviting higher expectations-and greater disappointment when immediate, palpable changes weren’t forthcoming.
In truth, Clinton’s big week was little more than a big Beltway week; it probably didn’t do much for him out in America. His impressive press-conference performances weren’t seen by many people, especially since CBS and ABC chose not to carry his prime-time show. The budget battle remained an abstraction. The campaign-finance-reform law that passed the Senate promised to put important new limits on the powers of incumbents and special interests, but it will face rough sledding in the House, and even if it is passed Ross Perot will still have foreign lobbyists and political-action committees (PACs) to pick at when he emerges from his Gergen-induced hibernation. Indeed, the Clinton victory that will probably have the most immediate and spectacular impact was the one least talked about-the national-service legislation that would make college loans available to every qualified student, a major relief to strapped middle-class parents.
Alley fight: Such victories help but, one senses, Bill Clinton’s current problems with the American people won’t be solved legislatively-they lie on a simpler, more primordial level. He hasn’t seemed strong. The late historian Catherine Drinker Bowen once cited an English visitor’s description of George Washington: “All his features…were indicative of the strongest passions, and had he been born in the forest…he would have been the fiercest man among the savage tribes.” There is a need, even now, to see something of this in a leader: to be reassured that he (or she, for Margaret Thatcher surely has it) would be a good person to have on your side in an alley fight. Bill Clinton has seemed the sort who’d make a major effort to talk his way out of the alley, or find a side door. He hasn’t seemed solid, or faithful, or wise. He has left a devastating first impression, one that can only be rectified slowly, if at all-by plain speaking, clear thinking, straight shooting.
He took a step on that road last week. In fact, his most impressive moment came during his prime-time press conference when he was asked a flagrantly obscure question about American relations with New Zealand. In the past, confronted with such questions, he had come across as the world’s greatest graduate student, versed to the point of prolixity on every imaginable topic. It was the sort of encyclopedic facility that could only be flaunted by someone with no serious responsibilities. But last week he simply replied: “I’ve given absolutely no thought to that question.” For once, a truly presidential response.
