Impeachment and Beyond
Originally published in the February 1999 issue of CLASnotes.
As I prepared to commence my academic career at the University of Florida last summer, never could I have imagined that my first semester as a presidency scholar would include the extraordinary events of only the second impeachment trial in the history of the nation. When the Senate trial of President Clinton finally concludes, we will be confronted by a series of challenges. We will need to reflect carefully on the implications for the institution of the presidency, the precedents set by the impeachment, and the historical legacy of first Democratic president since FDR to win election twice in this closing century.
Central to the future of our chief executives is the independent council statute which Congress will be tasked with revising or scrapping this year, particularly if the situation of divided partisan control of the presidency and Congress persists in an environment of heightened partisan conflict in our nation's capital. Kenneth Starr's investigation of President Clinton was, of course, launched under the aegis of this law. The intent of the statute was to address the very genuine question of whether the Justice Department can objectively and impartially investigate alleged misconduct of the president. Moreover, President Nixon's firing of Archibald Cox as the Watergate tragedy unfolded underscored the potential abuse of executive authority in the absence of an independent investigatory mechanism.
Many scholars have now come to view the independent council statute as seriously flawed. Critics point to Starr's four year long quest into the president's affairs, shifting as it did from subject to subject, as the culmination of a potential for "politics by other means." The president's detractors, however, are quick to point out that the investigation might have ended much sooner had Clinton not chosen to deceive his staff and the public for over seven months.
Whatever the case, in a democratic polity process is as important as outcome. Congress must not lose sight of this axiom as legislators look back upon the intent of the statute, reflect upon its utilization during Clinton's two terms, and debate what changes should be made to the law. How we arrived at the point of impeaching a president is every bit as critical as how allegations of high crimes and misdemeanors are ultimately adjudicated in a Senate trial. Whether future occupants of the White House are Democrats or Republicans, open-ended investigations of our chief executive risk paralyzing presidential leadership and damaging the legitimacy of the institution. Moreover, a real danger that may emerge from the impeachment quagmire is the delegitimization of future investigations, before they even begin, into wrongdoing that can threaten the very nature of our constitutional system. The allegations of illegal campaign contributions to candidates on both sides of the aisle in 1996 is but a single example.
Scholars must similarly wrestle with the factors that have guided the impeachment proceedings. In crafting our republican structure of government, the Founders sought to insulate our institutions from public opinion. But public opinion has played an incontrovertibly important role in the process. It may be argued that the Republicans' pursuit of the case against Clinton reflects a disregard for public sentiment. Yet the strong partisan response by House and Senate Democrats seems largely driven by Clinton's public approval ratings, which are indubitably tied to the strength of the economy. The question naturally arises as to whether a president accused of the same misconduct would face a different fate than probable acquittal in light of low public approval and a faltering economy. And while the Founders certainly anticipated that the affair of impeachment would constitute a process more political than truly juridical, would they approve of an outgoing Congress levying charges against a sitting president and leaving the trial to a new set of legislators? The Federalist Papers do not provide adequate insight.
For the moment, the impeachment morass seems to have solidified the rampant apathy of the American electorate, at least if voter turnout in 1998—lower than any other mid-term election since 1942—was any indication. But what of Clinton's legacy? Presidential scholar Michael Nelson argues that Americans have regarded the presidency as "savior" in Roosevelt, "Satan" in Nixon after Watergate, and "Sampson" in the weak leadership legacies of Ford and Carter. Talking to friends, relatives, and colleagues, I find elements of each of these models in evaluations of Clinton's two terms. What is striking is the degree to which opinions of Clinton are often so polarized. For some, Clinton is a brilliant politician who fudged the truth and exercised poor personal judgment but who positioned the Democratic party to take advantage of the new realities of the global economy. For others he represents a habitual philanderer and a duplicitous politician who lacks a moral compass, seeking to preempt the Republican agenda out of pure opportunism.
Such polarity may reflect the crossroads that America has reached in terms of expectations for our chief executive: Do we desire policy leadership, symbolic and enlightened moral leadership, or some combination thereof? The answer to this question may tell us much about the nature of presidential politics in the next century. Perhaps the most critical element in Clinton's legacy is whether that metaphorical bridge to the next millennium sets our national discourse on a path of civility and consideration or vacuous, partisan acrimony. As with the seemingly intractable Senate trial at the time of this writing in late January 1999, the jury is still out on that question.
Credits
Writer
Richard S. Conley, Department of Political Science
