Tag Archives: Bill Clinton

Blogging, D.B. Jackson, David B. Coe

Monday Musings: Our Best Former President

Carter-Mondale 1976 Campaign pamphletIn 1976, I was thirteen years old. I couldn’t vote, obviously, but I could work for candidates I liked, passing out pamphlets and such. That’s what I did in my little (at the time) moderately conservative (at the time) hometown in suburban New York. I stood on street corners in the commercial district of our village and I handed out leaflets for the Carter-Mondale ticket. “Leaders For A Change,” they read. A message that resonated after Watergate and the hapless administration of Gerald Ford.

Four years later, as a more rebellious seventeen-year-old, I made phone calls for the insurgent primary campaign of Teddy Kennedy. My father didn’t approve.

I would be the first to admit that Jimmy Carter’s presidency was not a successful one. I won’t go so far as to say he was a bad President, because he did some very good things while in office, including trying to move the country toward energy independence and setting aside huge swaths of wilderness for preservation. He brokered the Camp David Accords with Anwar Sadat and Menachem Begin, ending the state of war between Egypt and Israel. And he created the Department of Education, which, despite right-wing complaints, has done much in the four decades since to improve education in the United States.

But Carter could be prickly with the press and with other politicians. He refused to play the sort of games Washington likes to impose on new Presidents. Unlike Ronald Reagan, who defeated him, and Bill Clinton, who would win back the White House for the Democrats in 1992, Carter could be pedantic, taciturn, moralizing. Rather than being a happy warrior, he was more a grim crusader, deeply convinced of his own righteousness and uncompromising in his principles. In a way, he was too honorable a person, too unwilling to mince words, and also too nuanced in his thinking to be an effective leader. He came to office in the midst of an economic crisis that he was unable to ease, and he could do nothing to prevent the seizure of the American embassy in Teheran, Iran. The subsequent hostage crisis really wasn’t his fault, but it made him appear weak and ineffectual. It’s not surprising that he lost the 1980 election in a landslide, nor is it surprising that he’s remembered as a failed President.

Carter only began to flourish as a national leader after he left office. First, it should be noted that he never disputed his electoral loss or attempted to subvert in any way the transition to the Reagan Administration. A few years ago, that wouldn’t have been noteworthy. Now . . . .

More to the point, freed by his defeat from the constraints of electoral politics, he was able to focus on what he did best: advocating for social justice and casting himself as the moral conscience of an increasingly divided nation. The Carter Center, a non-profit founded after he left office, has worked across the globe to alleviate poverty, advance health care in under-developed economies, and advocate for human rights. Carter and his wife, Rosalynn, have been steadfast supporters of Habitat for Humanity, working tirelessly to build homes for those in need. And he has helped several of his successors in the White House by serving as a roving diplomat.

While many (but not all) of our ex-Presidents have spent their post-Presidential years playing golf or painting or burnishing their legacies or even trying to redeem themselves and repair their reputations after repeated failures, ignominious electoral defeats, and illegal and immoral assaults on our republic, Carter has devoted himself to the humane causes in which he believes. He is a crusader for social and economic equity. He speaks his mind, calling out those in power who fail to live up to their oaths of office. He carries himself with dignity, humility, and grace. And he has set an example every day, showing us all what it means to be a public servant.

I believe a case can be made that regardless of who the best President in our nation’s history might be, Jimmy Carter has been the best former-President we’ve ever had.

Last week, the Carter Center announced that Carter, now 98 years old, was going into Hospice Care rather than continue to pursue medical treatments for his various ailments. He has lived a full and incredible life, realizing lofty ambitions, traveling around the world, and touching literally millions and millions of lives. In the time he has left, I have no doubt he will continue to speak on behalf of those whose voices don’t reach the ears of the wealthy and powerful.

And when he is gone, when we no longer hear his gentle Georgia drawl speaking truth to the better angels in each of us, he will leave a void in America’s ongoing political and social dialogue.

Wishing you all peace, the comfort of loved ones, and a good week ahead.

Blogging, D.B. Jackson, David B. Coe, Not at all Writing Related

Monday Musings: Politics, Likability, and Beer

The other night in a Senate debate held in Milwaukee, Wisconsin’s Republican Senator, Ron Johnson, faced off against his challenger, Lieutenant Governor Mandela Barnes. At the end of the debate, which was, by all accounts, a brutally hostile affair, one of the moderators asked the candidates what, if anything, they found admirable about their opponent. Barnes answered by saying that Johnson was a devoted family man and he respected that. When Johnson had his turn he said that Barnes was raised well by his parents. “What puzzles me,” he went on, “is why did he turn against America?”

To their credit, the audience in the theater booed lustily.

Autumn has arrived in Tennessee, bringing azure skies, cool breezes, and crystal clear nights, and coaxing yellows and reds and oranges from our foliage. This time of year, my thoughts turn to bird migration, to baseball’s postseason, and, yes, to politics. I am reluctant to go there in a post, and yet I also feel I can hardly avoid it. We are living in such a fraught, dangerous time. In our current climate, I honestly believe the fate of our republic, not to mention our planet, is on the line each time Americans go to the polls.

I am old enough to remember when, during the 1980s, pundits speculated that part of Ronald Reagan’s incredible popularity was attributable to his down-to-earth demeanor. He was a candidate, analysts said, who people, regardless of ideology or party affiliation, would like to have a beer with. (One can only assume the poor grammar in this analysis was meant to reinforce the idea that people drinking beer with friendly politicians pay no attention to syntax.)

In contrast to the dispassionate, moralizing Jimmy Carter and the slightly dweeb-ish Walter Mondale, Reagan was cool, charming, charismatic, and other things that start with “c.” (Although, surprisingly, not “competent” or “coherent” or “compassionate.” But that’s a subject for some other post.) People liked Reagan, even if they didn’t always agree with his policies.

This likability, the “let’s have a beer with him” explanation for political success, came up again in 1988, not because anyone really liked George H.W. Bush, but because no one could imagine Democratic nominee Mike Dukakis even drinking a beer. And also, to be fair, because of the picture of Dukakis riding in a tank, wearing a helmet that made him look like Rick Moranis from that scene in Ghostbusters where he’s wearing a colander on his head.

Bill Clinton was seen as more likable than his Republican opponents: the elder Bush, and then, in 1996, the irascible Bob Dole. But nearly everyone in the country agreed that the candidate they really wanted to have a beer with was Ross Perot, the third-party gadfly who mounted insurgency campaigns in both ’92 and ’96. To be clear, it wasn’t that people really liked Perot, but given the crazy shit he said when sober, folks were eager to see what they could get him to say if they plied him with a few brews.

George W. Bush’s 2000 and 2004 campaigns fully revived the “who would you like to drink with?” conversation, in part because old George was a party boy in his younger days and likely would have known the best bars, and in part because his two Democratic opponents, Al Gore and John Kerry, were blue-blood scions of privilege and wealth, who came across as self-righteous, all-knowing prigs. (Understand, please, that I supported and voted for both of them. I say this from a place of love. Really.)

Barack Obama, with his effortless cool and star power, was the obvious choice in both 2008 and 2012. John McCain, his first opponent was a war hero, but he had nearly as little charm as Bob Dole. And Mitt Romney was and is Mormon, meaning he doesn’t drink at all, rendering moot the question of who was likely to be the better bar mate.

Finally, we come to the election of 2016. Trump against Hillary. Both candidates were deeply unpopular. Neither candidate engendered much enthusiasm in the “who would you like to have a beer with?” measure. And in 2020, the idea that anyone not ideologically aligned with one of the candidates might deign to have a beer with him . . . well, that was pretty much unthinkable. Which kind of brings me to the end of my joking and to my actually-rather-serious point.

Politics have long divided Americans from one another. A glance at popular vote margins through our history show a nation that is more often than not split fairly evenly between (or among) Presidential candidates. Yet today’s America feels particularly tribal. It’s hard to imagine any MAGA Republican setting aside partisanship to say, “Yeah, I’d love to have a beer with Joe Biden.” And no Democrat I know would willingly sit at a bar with Donald Trump.

I will admit that I have always thought the so-called “have a beer” test a foolish way to choose a President (or a Senator, Governor, or Representative). I vote on the issues, and I look for candidates who have gravitas, who are thoughtful, erudite, and analytical. I really couldn’t care less if they seem like a fun drinking companion. Sure, it might be a bonus, but that’s all.

But given the state of our body politic, I’m wondering if I have been too quick to dismiss the value of this other approach. Not because it’s a great way to choose our leaders, but rather because just being able to think in such terms suggests a healthier state of politics than the one we’re in now. Maybe if all of us could once again imagine clinking glasses with a politician from “the other side,” our country might be better off.

Sadly, I don’t see that happening soon.

And so, I would very much like to sit down and have a beer with Ron Johnson. Not because I think he’d be a fun drinking buddy, but because when he’s not looking, I’d very much like to spit in his glass.

Have a great week.

Blogging, D.B. Jackson, David B. Coe, Not at all Writing Related

Monday Musings: Through the Looking Glass

[Let me begin by saying this: I know the President is ill. I hope he recovers; I understand it’s possible that he’ll take a turn for the worse. I hope the First Lady and the growing number of public officials who have tested positive for coronavirus recover as well. None of what follows is meant to be insensitive to the President’s condition. But neither will I give him more consideration than he has given to the millions of Americans who have fallen ill, or to the more than two hundred thousand who have died from Covid-19.]

We are, at this point, through the looking glass.

2020 has become so ridiculous, so laden with crisis, so fraught with fear and anger and confusion, that it risks turning into a caricature of itself. The Presidential campaign alone has morphed into a farce — a farce with far-reaching implications for economic stability; for racial, social, and sexual justice; for the health and safety of all Americans; and for the very survival of the planet. But a farce, nevertheless.

In my recent posts and my minimal appearances on other platforms, I have hinted at the emotional struggles in my life. My family has been touched by Covid, which has been scary, but, so far, not nearly as bad as it might have been. I have struggled to write and grappled with industry-wide issues. Again, I’ve been luckier than some, and less fortunate than others. And I have been obsessed to the point of panic and despair with the campaign and with the constant bloviation of our infant-in-chief.

It is this last that has had me in retreat from social media and news over the past couple of weeks. Yet, this is also what I am musing on this morning. Because in stepping back from the febrile headlines that assault us day after day, I find myself lamenting a much deeper issue.

Donald Trump is a menace. We know this. He is a White supremacist. He represents an existential threat to the norms and customs of our republic. He is boorish and crude, unintelligent and incurious, corrupt and dishonest and utterly unconcerned for the well-being of the public he is supposed to serve. But perhaps most damaging is the simple fact that he is a spectacle. Each day we are subjected to some new outrage. This campaign, for better or worse, is about him, about his failures and his failings. The good news is that a hard focus on Trump may well be enough to end this shit-storm of a Presidency.

Unfortunately, such a campaign does a disservice to our country. We face serious problems. We should be searching for solutions to climate change, engaging in a meaningful discussion of systemic racism, cementing gains in the fight for LGBTQ rights, working toward pay equity and an end to systemic sexism, building a fairer, stronger economy, and tackling a host of other issues that will shape not only our lives, but those of our children and generations to follow.

Do I want the world to see Trump’s tax returns and the dark secrets contained within them? Sure. Do I see some Karmic justice in his positive test for Covid-19? Yes, I do, even as I hope that he and his wife recover. Am I disgusted by his nod and wink toward the White nationalist Proud Boys? Damn right.

Mostly, though, I’m pissed that these things are “issues.”

Politics is always messy, and Presidential campaigns always entertain their share of nonsense controversies and titillating distractions. The problem is, with this President those things are all we have. Because that’s what he wants. Sure, he complains of being mistreated by the press and demonized by his political opponents, but really all he cares about is attention. Positive attention, negative attention — he doesn’t differentiate. As long as he is the center of the conversation, he’s happy. He doesn’t want to discuss real issues. That would demand work, preparation, concentration. And then the conversation wouldn’t be about him. It would be about us, about our lives, our families, our futures — things that don’t interest him.

Maybe it was inevitable that we would elect a man like this. In an age of reality television and ubiquitous social media, it’s not surprising that we should have a reality-star President who is utterly self-involved. More, Americans often look for qualities in a new President that were absent in his (and someday, please, her) predecessor. Policy-wonk Bill Clinton was followed by George W. Bush, who was not a detail guy, and who was, in turn, followed by the wonkish, erudite Barack Obama. Trump is the anti-Obama: a white racist, devoid of charm, integrity, compassion, and erudition.

That might be too easy an explanation. Honestly, I am too exhausted to care anymore. This President has worn me down. I would love to be passionate about the prospect of a Joe Biden Administration. I wish I had been more excited about all the candidates who sought the Democratic nomination, but Trump ruined even that for so many of us. Yes, we had our preferences, and Bernie Sanders’ supporters were nearly as fervent this time around as they were in 2016. In the end, though, we cared only about finding someone who could beat Trump. Overcoming this blight on our nation was more important than the aspirations and enthusiasm that ought to animate an election season. Sad.

So, here we are, having been confronted with this clown-show, day after day, month after month, for four long years. And, if we’re smart and lucky, no longer than that.