 |
| Scarlet
Letters |
| The
Wrong Lesson |
|
|
Just
because someone prints something you don't want to read doesn't mean they're
biased.
--
Jayne Matthews, journalist, 2001 |
|
The working title of this column was, "Why I Don't Feel Sorry For Gary
Condit," but it seemed a little long.
The fact is, many people do feel sorry for Condit. To go from California's
golden-boy, a moderate Democrat with respect on both sides of the aisle
and a pristine family man willing to get tough on issues his conservative
California district cared about, to the subject of tabloid headlines and
allegations ranging from Clinton-like sexual peccadillos to outright murder
- it's a bit much to take.
Condit just lost his first election in decades, failing even to win a primary
for the seat he has held since 1989. His children had quit their jobs in
the governor's office after the governor refused to support Condit, derailing
their own careers in government service to pitch into their father's reelection
bid. I feel sorry for them, and for his wife, who has been publicly humiliated
from The National Equirer to "Law and Order," but I don't feel sorry for
him.
Let's set aside the issue of whether Condit had anything to do with Chandra
Levy's disappearance. I don't believe there are nearly enough facts to
know whether that's the case. Let's state what we do know:
Condit had an affair with Levy.
Levy disappeared.
When questioned by police, by the press and by Levy's family, Condit denied
the affair for quite some time.
Condit later admitted he had an affair with her.
Levy is still missing.
Condit has refused to cooperate with the private investigator hired by
the Levy family.
None of this, by itself, would be enough to eliminate sympathy for him.
After all, I felt sorry for Bill Clinton. When I was a younger woman, I
even felt sorry for Clarence Thomas. I got over that.
Condit and all the other Congressional Clowns learned the wrong lesson
from Bill Clinton. They thought Clinton was good at avoiding trouble, that
a fake apology would cover a multitude of sins, and wrote the back-room
guidebook on Keeping Mistresses Quiet. But the lesson they should have
learned was in the eyes of the public.
There have been beloved presidents who committed a plethora of personal
sins. From FDR to JFK and many letters in between, presidents have been
caught on the wrong side of the sheets. A mistress (as long as she's alive)
doesn't necessarily kill a campaign. Lies hardly ever kill a campaign -
the American public is used to politicians lying to them. It's come to
be expected.
The American public wants to feel that the sinner repented of his sins.
They need to know that he will take responsibility for his actions. They
need to know that he'll at least consider the consequences before committing
the sin again.
It wasn't Clinton's relationship with Lewinsky that bothered the public
- it was the lies, the coverup, and the attempts to dodge responsibility.
Once Clinton 'fessed up in the famous Oops Speech, the public was ready
to forgive him. Congress, on the other hand, went rabid (with the assistance
of Ken Starr) and as they impeached him, they lost huge ground with their
home public as Clinton's approval ratings soared into the 90s.
Condit, on the other hand, never took responsibility for his actions. In
his interviews, he steadfastly refused to accept that there might be any
consequences for sleeping with a 24-year-old intern. In a recent New York
Times article, he blamed the press for his problems.
It wasn't the press that made Condit sleep with Levy. It wasn't the press
that forced him to lie to the police investigating her disappearance. It
wasn't the press who withheld vital information about Levy's state of mind
and personal life that might have assisted in finding her in the early
days after her disappearance. It wasn't the press who told Condit's constituents,
over and over, that he had no inappropriate contact with Levy.
There are innocent people who are destroyed by press feeding frenzies.
However, Condit isn't one of them. Even to this day, he maintains that
he has done nothing wrong, he's just an innocent victim of the evil press.
And to some people - even some people in my own newsroom - that works,
because no one is more hated than the press.
But we didn't say anything that wasn't true. We didn't create Condit's
affair out of thin air. He just didn't want anyone to know about it. That's
not our fault.
As the months go on and Levy remains missing in action, speculation about
her disappearance becomes much more ominous. The Levys remain hopeful that
Condit will cooperate with their investigators, but since Condit's wife
is more concerned with "Law and Order"'s portrayal of her in their "ripped-from-the-headlines"
version of the story, I doubt assisting with the ongoing search is high
on the Condits' priority list.
And that's the real problem, isn't it? Condit and his family, his supporters,
the people sitting around feeling sorry for him - where is the concern
for Chandra Levy? When has Condit ever thought of her? Dead or alive, has
he even once put the search for Levy ahead of himself? Not that I've seen.
That's what the public won't forgive. Lies, adultery, "spinning" - we're
used to that. Sheer self-interest, above the life of a missing young woman
- that's unforgivable. And California told him so at the ballot box. They
don't feel sorry for him anymore. |
|
Column Credo:
I'd be sitting in a restaurant and someone
would come up and say, "I don't like your column on this or that." I'd
hand him 35 cents. That was what the paper cost then. The refund on the
product. He'd get upset. Well, that's one attitude I have. Today,
it's half a buck. What can you buy for half a buck? Do I owe them something
that will be worth reading a hundred years from now? I don't think so.
Do I owe them something of the quality of Mark Twain? Naaa. Not for 50
cents.
I guess what I owe them is that when I
write something, it's what I think. No editor told me to write it. I'm
not doing it because the Tribune editorial page will like it, or not. So
they can be quite sure that they're getting what I think at the moment.
-- Mike Royko
|
|
|
|
|
