While Bill Clinton is no FDR, their wives have a surprising amount in common. After learning that FDR died in the company of his onetime mistress, Eleanor never spoke of the matter again. Barbara Walters or Katie Couric will do no better with Hillary, who has never heard a cigar joke (she watches little TV) and is highly unlikely to ever publicly explore her own feelings about her husband’s infidelities. Hillary’s new popularity is often ascribed to resurgent traditionalism; isn’t it ironic, we’re told, that this feminist was elevated by classic sympathy for a victim. But that’s too pat. Like Eleanor, Hillary has gracefully reconciled public service with private humiliation. The dignity is timeless, and harnessed to purpose. Contrary to her reputation, Hillary is a supreme pragmatist and lacks Eleanor’s passionate commitment to liberal principles. But their mutual sense of mission is unmistakable.
The question Hillary is asking herself is how to channel that old-fashioned notion of service. The Senate is appealing because ““it’s a forum not just to talk but to actually do’’ something constructive, says one close aide. Eleanor Roosevelt felt the same way about the United Nations, and what she did 50 years ago–championing the U.N. Universal Declaration of Human Rights–helped bring more freedom around the world than any document since the Declaration of Independence. Hillary’s problem is twofold: first, the Senate is a lot more talk than action; second, this whole talk-versus-action issue is precisely what might prevent her from getting elected in the first place.
Who wouldn’t love to see her toe-to-toe with Rudy Giuliani? Columnist Jack Newfield calls it ““Viagra for the press.’’ But I’d argue that most of the handicappers predicting an especially ugly campaign have it wrong. Sure, the New York Post would carp about billing records and cattle futures. So what? Hillary can handle that. Her public support for a Palestinian state is fair game, but if Giuliani hits her with old scandal stuff, it will backfire. Giuliani is too mean to go negative; you have to seem nice to get rough in politics.
The real problem for Hillary is her record. She doesn’t have one. With health care a failure, she has nothing solid to show for her years as First Lady. And she lacks the political instincts to make it seem as if she does. All talk, no action. Impressive talk, around the world, but not connected to concrete achievement. An upbeat Giuliani campaign could simply pit his record against hers–delivering a better New York versus delivering some nice speeches. And if he knocks her off, giant-killer Giuliani would soon be Rudy-for-president. That might be the best reason to hope Hillary doesn’t run.
A reason to hope. Accepting the nomination in 1992, Bill Clinton introduced himself as ““The Man From Hope.’’ Hillary, too, saw her mission as helping rekindle a faith in elective politics as a form of service. Then, in the flash of a thong, her husband cheesed the presidency and set back the cause of politics as a noble calling. By running, Hillary has a chance to repair some of the damage caused by Bill. Young people, especially women, who are turned off to politics might find themselves energized by her campaign, as their parents were by Bobby Kennedy’s bid for the Senate in 1964. The upside to running is that it gives Hillary one last chance to redeem her faith–not in her husband, but in the political life they built together.
The downside is not just the risk of losing (yet more humiliation) but the risk of winning–of numbing committee hearings and a schedule where Trent Lott gets to tell you when you can go home at night. And what does it say about her commitment to her husband’s agenda that she would prefer to spend the next two years campaigning in Oswego to lobbying on Capitol Hill? As First Lady, she has more power than any senator to frame and dramatize issues. Running for the Senate may be good in the long term, but until Clinton leaves office on Jan. 20, 2001, it would be a huge step down.
There are alternatives, even within the Senate option. Like Eleanor, who kept an apartment in Greenwich Village during her husband’s presidency, Hillary loves New York. But she might be better off running in her native Illinois in 2004. That would leave two years to finish the administration, two years to lecture, write and pay big bills and two years to plan what would be a much easier campaign against freshman GOP Sen. Peter Fitzgerald, a fluke candidate who is too conservative for Illinois.
But in politics, as in everything else, hesitation can be fatal. By 2004 Hillary may be about as viable a Senate candidate as Betty Ford. Even by 2000 the landscape could be different. As the president himself noted last week, it’s impossible to ““keep the pot boiling’’ all the way until the next election. Until then, both Clintons should, as Eleanor said of JFK, ““show a little less profile and a little more courage.’’ They’ve got the political capital; now is the moment to spend it.
