With the 15th anniversary of the Oklahoma City bombing this week,
former President Bill Clinton has been back in the news with timely
reminders of the costs of extreme anti-government rhetoric and his
perspective on the partisan wars in Washington.
After a speech
at the Center for American Progress on Friday, an ABC News "This Week"
interview on Sunday and an op-ed in The New York Times on Monday,
Clinton's resurgence amounts to a reassessment of his presidency -- and
Bubba is looking pretty good in the rearview mirror of history, even to
his one-time critics.
In some ways, the parallels to today's
political debates are striking: A Democratic president from a new
generation, representing a mandate for change during a recession, brings
his party into unified control of Washington for the first time in more
than a decade.
Amid a fight over health care reform, the new
president was accused of governing far more liberally than he
campaigned. In a relitigation of the 1960s culture wars, Newt
Gingrich -- who earlier this month accused Barack Obama of being
"the most radical president in American history" -- called the Clintons
"counterculture McGovernicks." Bumper stickers sold near the White House
featured Clinton's name with a Soviet-style hammer and sickle.
Conservative
talk radio proliferated in opposition, turning hatred of the president
into a cottage industry, providing a profitable boost in ratings.
Separately, the militia movement grew, fueled by fears of a tyrannical
federal government, new gun restrictions and a foreign policy that was
said to sacrifice sovereignty in favor of globalization.
The
same narratives endure today, the reflexive reflection of old scripts
that still retain their power.
But echoes of 1994 run through
this year's midterm elections as well. In their enthusiasm, some
Democrats misread the previous presidential election as a liberal
ideological mandate. Surging numbers of independent voters turned toward
Republicans in their desire for deficit reduction and the checks and
balances of divided government. It was a reminder that America remained
an essentially center-right nation.
Clinton
pivoted back toward the center in the second half of his first term. He
worked with Republicans to pass welfare reform with bipartisan margins,
over the objections of his liberal base. He was committed to a
free-trade agenda and continued to pursue policies that turned a deficit
into a surplus, while actually shrinking the size of the federal work
force. While recognizing that "the era of big government is over," he
was able to make the case for a more limited but still activist
government. He reclaimed the allegiance of moderates and the middle
class and was re-elected.
Of course, any discussion of Clinton's
legacy cannot ignore his self-inflicted scandals. I was a Clinton kid --
a freshman in college in the fall of 1992, a White House intern the
same summer as Monica Lewinsky, and a worker at his 1996 convention. I
remember the sense of personal betrayal I felt when the man who had so
evenly said, "I have less and less control over my reputation, but I
still have full control over my character" proved less than candid.
The fact that he was the second president impeached outweighs the
fact that he was the first Democratic president re-elected since FDR.
Nonetheless, after all the drama and disappointment, he left office with
a sky-high 62 percent approval rating. It was a clear endorsement of
Clinton's policies, if not his personal life, from the American people.
Given the fury of the partisan fights between conservatives and
Clinton, it seems odd that the mid-1990s would now look like a golden
age of bipartisan cooperation. But that divided government proved the
most fiscally responsible of the modern era.
Through the eyes of
history, it seems Clinton was essentially what he said he was: a
centrist Southern president who was focused on economic growth. He
understood the necessity of forming a durable political coalition and
governing from the center -- and in the process, he started a third-way
philosophy of governing that proved its ultimate success with Tony
Blair across the Atlantic.
The ultimate compliments may
come from his one-time bitter adversaries, like Christopher Ruddy -- a
conservative journalist who investigated the Vince Foster suicide and
who is now editor-in-chief of Newsmax. Ruddy told the The New York Times
Magazine last year that he now considers Clinton a friend -- and vice
versa. "And to think of all the wars we went through in the '90s, it
seems almost surreal. ... I guess we thought, 'This is just politics.'
But looking back at my role, I was probably over the top. And if I knew
then what I know today, I wouldn't have pursued some of that stuff as
aggressively as I did."
This belated revelation should be a
cautionary tale for those who find themselves obsessively invested in Obama
hatred today. It is a reminder of how hyper-partisanship fundamentally
distorts our political debates and often makes them intellectually
dishonest.
The resurgence of some of Clinton's old critics,
wielding similar lines of attack at Obama, should give cause for pause.
At the same time, Obama can learn from some of the lessons of Clinton to
recenter his presidency. And we all should take to heart the 42nd
president's recent warning that "there is a big difference between
criticizing a policy or a politician and demonizing the government that
guarantees our freedoms and the public servants who enforce our laws."
To see politics, we must view it with the broadest sense of
perspective -- remembering that patriotism is ultimately more important
than partisanship.
The opinions expressed
in this commentary are solely those of John Avlon.