It’s hard to hold Richard Nixon up as a paragon of moral behavior. But pretty much everything in history is: “compared to what?” and we now have Nixon bracketed among the 46 people ever elected to be the chief magistrate of the country. His champions must be relieved that he is no longer the limiting case of bad actors among Presidents.
Presidents are, in the end, only people and have committed a multitude of sins both in and out of office. Few—beyond Jimmy Carter—have been willing to acknowledge their shortcomings. Large egos and a keen eye on their legacies have minimized their time in the confessional. There has been denial and dissimulation. Nixon famously proclaimed in the midst of the Watergate scandal that “I am not a crook.” But he was. Clinton famously asserted that he “did not have sex with that woman” [Monica Lewinsky]. But he did. Pretty much everyone has cut corners on policy matters. Promises made during campaigns were too dear to keep once they were in office and all manner of disingenuity resulted. Some were pretty scurrilous on a number of grounds (LBJ comes to mind, as do several in between J.Q. Adams and Lincoln).
Indeed, it is one of the shortcomings of the American electorate that we construct myths of perfection around our political leaders and then we declare (as Captain Renault said in Casablanca:) “I'm shocked, shocked to find that gambling is going on in here!” But popular sanctimony is not the central issue here. So, I am not arguing for the necessity of sainthood in politics.
On the other hand, there is a thing called “conscience” or, as Jefferson wrote in the Declaration, “a decent respect for the opinions of mankind.” There is some considerable evidence that many Presidents had one and wrestled with intense moral conflicts. It is notable that perhaps even our most admired Presidents felt the weight of their decisions. Washington and Lincoln come most immediately to mind (perhaps it is because of this that they are held in particularly high regard).
As we know from just looking around at our fellows—family members, co-workers, business connections, “friends,”—not everyone has a conscience; or at least many don’t take theirs out for daily exercise. Self-indulgence, rationalization, and the full range of the seven deadly sins are all powerful ammunition. Acting with integrity—all the time—is tough. Power and pride are a particularly dangerous combination; especially at the Presidential level. So, we have plenty of reason to be wary in general.
Nixon’s proclamation of innocence kept him afloat for nine months. Then, he had enough political clarity and enough integrity to realize that the gig was up. The fiftieth anniversary of his resignation is coming up this summer. In fact, he was a “crook,” even if denied and pardoned. But, he had enough character to leave the stage. I’m not saying it was a lot; but he had something.
We are now faced with another Presidential crook. Duly tried and convicted. He may appeal. He may never see the inside of a jail cell. So far, however, there’s no indication of conscience. No sense of easing himself off the stage. We may, as a result, see a felon in the White House; which says more—much more—about the state of the nation than about the character of He Who Shall Not Be Named. Suddenly, Tricky Dick doesn’t look so bad.
Presidents are, in the end, only people and have committed a multitude of sins both in and out of office. Few—beyond Jimmy Carter—have been willing to acknowledge their shortcomings. Large egos and a keen eye on their legacies have minimized their time in the confessional. There has been denial and dissimulation. Nixon famously proclaimed in the midst of the Watergate scandal that “I am not a crook.” But he was. Clinton famously asserted that he “did not have sex with that woman” [Monica Lewinsky]. But he did. Pretty much everyone has cut corners on policy matters. Promises made during campaigns were too dear to keep once they were in office and all manner of disingenuity resulted. Some were pretty scurrilous on a number of grounds (LBJ comes to mind, as do several in between J.Q. Adams and Lincoln).
Indeed, it is one of the shortcomings of the American electorate that we construct myths of perfection around our political leaders and then we declare (as Captain Renault said in Casablanca:) “I'm shocked, shocked to find that gambling is going on in here!” But popular sanctimony is not the central issue here. So, I am not arguing for the necessity of sainthood in politics.
On the other hand, there is a thing called “conscience” or, as Jefferson wrote in the Declaration, “a decent respect for the opinions of mankind.” There is some considerable evidence that many Presidents had one and wrestled with intense moral conflicts. It is notable that perhaps even our most admired Presidents felt the weight of their decisions. Washington and Lincoln come most immediately to mind (perhaps it is because of this that they are held in particularly high regard).
As we know from just looking around at our fellows—family members, co-workers, business connections, “friends,”—not everyone has a conscience; or at least many don’t take theirs out for daily exercise. Self-indulgence, rationalization, and the full range of the seven deadly sins are all powerful ammunition. Acting with integrity—all the time—is tough. Power and pride are a particularly dangerous combination; especially at the Presidential level. So, we have plenty of reason to be wary in general.
Nixon’s proclamation of innocence kept him afloat for nine months. Then, he had enough political clarity and enough integrity to realize that the gig was up. The fiftieth anniversary of his resignation is coming up this summer. In fact, he was a “crook,” even if denied and pardoned. But, he had enough character to leave the stage. I’m not saying it was a lot; but he had something.
We are now faced with another Presidential crook. Duly tried and convicted. He may appeal. He may never see the inside of a jail cell. So far, however, there’s no indication of conscience. No sense of easing himself off the stage. We may, as a result, see a felon in the White House; which says more—much more—about the state of the nation than about the character of He Who Shall Not Be Named. Suddenly, Tricky Dick doesn’t look so bad.
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