December 16, 1996
The wags are asking, "Which is greater, the number of Clinton cabinet officers staying for the second term, or the number of Dallas Cowboys without a rap sheet?" They might well ask which is greater, the number of felons who have left the Clinton administration or the number of felons remaining.
Charlatanism of some degree is indispensable to effective leadership.
... Eric Hoffer
We know how tremendous the strength of sexual passion is; yet we allow ourselves and our children to be exploited wholesale, by those who make money out of appealing and artificially stimulating it. It is now proposed, as a remedy for the evil, that we should give our children detailed instruction upon the facts of sex; as though information would in itself give them power of control! I am far from denying that to give children good and decently presented instruction about the facts of life, at the proper age, is of great assistance to them, and is much better than allowing them to learn a distortion of those facts from dirty sources; but the idea that, in and of itself, instruction will keep them pure and clean, has no foundation in fact; and we are tackling the problem very largely at the wrong end...
We have forgotten that evil is infectious, as infectious as small-pox; and we do not perceive that if we allow whole departments of our life to become purely secular, and to create and maintain moral or immoral standards on their own, in time the whole of life is bound to become corrupt.
... G. A. Studdert-Kennedy, The Wicket Gate
Since the 21st century is rushing toward us, Republican and Democrat, rich and poor, sage and fool, alike, at 60 minutes per hour, we do not need a bridge (whatever that means) to reach it. We have but to wait around and it will occur, like the noon whistle or the trumpeting of the next Liberal cause, and with as much meaning. And the 21st century will turn out to be very much like all the other centuries, in that the principal events that mark it will be the results of the manifold stupidities, greeds, arrogances, villainies, and idiocies of mankind.
But the "bridge to the 21st century", a puffy bit of rhetoric, empty of any real meaning, is nevertheless a very evocative metaphor. One wonders if the average listener, or even the President, knows its origin. The patriarch (pope) of the Roman Catholic Church is called Pontifex Maximus, as were his predecessors in the old Roman religion, often rendered as "chief priest". But the word "pontifex" means, literally, bridge-maker. It is this ancient connection that the President has invoked.
Now, does the President mean that he is going to intercede for us with the gods, or erect a bridge and collect the tolls? Or does he simply mean that he has the vaulting ambition to power of the pontifex maximus of old? After all, during the Empire, the Roman pontifex maximus was the emperor. Personally, when it comes to Pontifex Clintonius, I suspect he prefers the dental analogy, where the bridge has a crown at each end.
Buttrust Buttrust-Ghali is upset that he is not permitted to loot the United States in another consecutive term as Sec-Gen of the U. N. Once upon a time it was said that farming the world was the white man's job or burden or something; now it appears that farming the American taxpayer has become the third world's job. Sacrificing a few more American GI's to his brutal vision of world government is about the last thing I want to do. It is small comfort to think that none of this would ever have happened if Warren Christopher were alive.
All of this bickering must be viewed, of course, as a minor doctrinal dispute amongst the adherents and true believers of the world socialism religion, to which its excommunicants should pay scant attention and absolutely no respect.
I spent an interesting evening a few nights ago listening to Hugh Sprunt talk about his analysis of the Vincent Foster "suicide" investigation. The novice is impressed by all the inconsistencies he has found in the evidence that the investigation produced and, in particular, the conclusions that the responsible parties drew from that evidence. I wonder what a practiced investigator would think.
That there are gaps in the evidence is without doubt, and the conclusion that the Fiske report draws, that all the evidence supports the theory of suicide and that there is "no evidence to the contrary", is clearly baloney. Why the Fiske report makes this judgement is unclear. But it is clear that if the irreconcilable parts of the evidence point to a death scene that was rigged, then the case changes from a routine suicide to a very remarkable event. Does bungling explain it all? Maybe, but not likely.
But the leap of faith required to suppose that Foster was murdered, that the death took place elsewhere, and that the scene in Ft. Marcy Park was arranged for the benefit of the murderers, all at the behest of someone in the White House, takes a lot of supposition. This deadlier proposition requires the assistance, on the spot, of at least one member of the park police, a couple of White House guys, and considerable luck, both bad and good.
Without going into the details (which is, of course, where all the true knowledge is), I don't believe it. This does not mean that I cannot imagine being wrong about it; I might very well be. But I do not believe in large conspiracies, coincidences, and infallibility. I do believe in faulty memories, faulty judgement, malice, and stupidity.
This does not mean that Mr. Sprunt is a raving right-winger who should be locked up before he hurts someone. In fact, he is a most remarkable individual: he is not a wild-eyed lunatic, he is not "after" the President, and he is not a fabricator; he is calm, careful, deliberate, intelligent, and convincing. He has based his critique largely, and very effectively, on the government's own documentation. His analysis amounts, in my opinion, to an absolute evisceration of the government's inquiry, and it should be attended to.
But not by me. The official wheels have ground around on this issue for over three years, but the official verdict still stands. Numerous people, big-wigs and small, have screamed about this, but neither the park police (who carried out the investigation), Robert Fiske, Kenneth Starr, nor the Congressional committees that have looked into it, have seen fit to challenge that ruling. Why not? Only one possible reason: the evidence, taken as a whole, is not sufficiently compelling. (For the record, I am not yet ready to believe in a conspiracy theory that requires the complicity in specific instances of the park police, the coroner, two special counsels, and two committees of Congress; I may yet come to such a place, but not now.)
In the long run, of course, why do we care? So one highly- placed hoodlum may have bumped off another. Are there dishonest people in the Clinton White House? I never doubted it for a moment. Are they capable of murder? I challenge you to look at what happened in Waco, and tell me you don't think so; I certainly do. (If the gang holed up in Mount Carmel had been middle-class Episcopalians on a retreat, they would never have been attacked; their murderers saw a chance and ordered it to be taken, because they hate liberty, and they hate those who exercise their liberty in unorthodox ways.) But I already subscribe to these assessments of the character of the Clinton gang. Whether Vincent Foster died by his own hand under somewhat strange circumstances, or he was rubbed out by his long-time buddies and colleagues because he was about to spill the beans, is to me immaterial. I already want to be rid of them and would happily endorse any lawful plan to put the whole bunch in jail.
In fact, that is really the only aspect of the whole affair I care about. If Foster was murdered by his colleagues, it says something about the company he kept. While that does not exactly justify his death, it certainly dries up my well of sympathy. If the Foster death could be turned into a vehicle for hanging the Clinton bunch, it would indeed be an occasion for rejoicing and energetic pursuit. But, in the mean time, Hugh Sprunt notwithstanding, find me a horse that will run.
BUT, the notion that the independent counsel's inquiries somehow "poison the atmosphere" for those who would serve our country in high offices of state is malarkey. The current campaign to stain the independent counsel with partisan political motives is despicable. I do not think that the inquiries have gone far enough, I do not think that the Clinton re-election was a Not Guilty vote by the American people, and I can see absolutely no reason not to pursue malfeasance in office with utter determination.
Whatever they have done, whatever they are hiding, there is no excuse. I do not steal, I do not commit perjury, I do not misappropriate funds or skip my taxes; why should they? If they don't know how to avoid these temptations, if the temptations seem too great, let them follow me around for one day so that they can see how it's done. Or you. Or millions of other Americans.
No, there is something special that attracts to high government office those who cannot resist dipping in for themselves: it is the special privileges, the unlimited power, the access to so much wealth and influence. We have the capability, the right, and the obligation to chase every one of those people out of office and into jail, if warranted. I cannot imagine what legitimate reason could be offered for not doing so.
Is Dvorak's New World Symphony the most hackneyed work in the romantic orchestral literature? If so, it is not because it is not a good piece. The real reason is, I suppose, that it has been directed so badly, by so many, so often, that the badness overwhelms one's sense of the potential of the work. Not last week, though. Paavo Jarvi, youthful chief conductor of the Malmo Symphony and principal guest conductor of the Royal Stockholm Philharmonic, conducted the Dallas Symphony Orchestra in a beautiful, sensitive, imaginative, and vital rendition of the Dvorak warhorse, the best I have heard in decades. The phrases came to life, the luster of Dvorak's symphonic sound shone, and with just a little push here and a little pull there, one remembered what there is to love about this powerful and unique symphony. Thank goodness Dvorak determined to write it, and thank goodness for this Swede (hardly a new-worlder) who has the musical gift and insight to remind us of what it means.
All contents © Copyright 1995, 1996 by Redmon Barbry ¶ 1:00 PM
