You Gotta Admit, It’s a Heckuva Show

Last Saturday night, Atlanta Falcons safety Eugene Robinson was arrested for soliciting a prostitute. The following afternoon, he started for the Falcons in the Super Bowl.

Earlier in the week, Mick Jagger of the Rolling Stones and Latrell Sprewell of the New York Knicks opened their respective seasons on opposite sides of the continent. Jagger, whose wife is suing him for divorce because of his relationships with other women, and Sprewell, who last year was suspended after attempting to choke his coach, both performed well and were rewarded with repeated ovations.

And Bill Clinton, the president who has admitted to a relationship with a young staffer that almost certainly would be grounds for dismissal of an executive at any business or on college campus in America, is cruising along with overwhelmingly positive job approval ratings.

The common thread here is the apparent growing capacity of Americans to separate public activity from private behavior. As long as Robinson can make tackles, as long as Jagger can sing and Sprewell can shoot, they are forgiven for conduct that we find unacceptable under most other circumstances. And as long as the economy continues to hum and Clinton continues to churn out popular policy initiatives on education, job training and Social Security, voters overlook his penchant for fondling the hired help.

Clinton’s critics marvel at his ability concentrate on matters of public policy while he barely escapes the consequences of private scandal. But the true talent for compartmentalization lies with the American people, who have been trained to ignore the moral and ethical lapses of our public figures so long as those public figures continue to perform with some effectiveness.

The membership of the Screen Actors Guild has collectively amassed enough felony arrests and convictions to fill a minimum security prison. The men of the National Basketball Assn., among them, have fathered enough children out of wedlock to occupy Disneyland. Yet we flock to their movies and their games with no thought as to whether we are sanctioning their behavior by rewarding their performance. They are entertainers; their off-stage activities are of no concern.

Similarly, Clinton’s primary function in office has devolved to that of entertainer. His proposals rarely become law. His public pronouncements, on scandal or otherwise, evoke little serious response. And the legacy that he has so publicly craved becomes less and less likely. Last week’s Time-CNN poll shows that, by a margin of 72%-18%, Americans believe that he will be remembered more for the controversies surrounding his personal life than his substantive accomplishments.

So by deconstructing the presidential bully pulpit into a vaudeville stage, Clinton has lowered the standard for unacceptable conduct in the Oval Office from what we expect of a statesman to what we tolerate from a performer. Because we have come to require so much less from him in the public arena than we asked of our previous presidents, we are that much more willing to dismiss his private excesses as well.

Republicans who agonize at the lack of public outrage over Clinton’s lack of morality can therefore take heart. Americans have not abandoned their long-held standards for virtue and character. They have just ceased to see Clinton as relevant to those standards, certainly no more relevant than the athletes and rock stars who have become more like cartoon abstractions to us than real-world role models. And without the seriousness of public policy, without the respect of the citizenry, without the stature to change either, Clinton’s role is primarily that of a performer whose chief talent is that he effectively delivers a speech that elicits positive emotional response from his audience.

Some years ago, basketball player Charles Barkley filmed an advertisement in which he told the nation’s parents that he did not see himself as a role model. “My job is to cause havoc on a basketball court,” he said, “not to raise your kids.”

Someday, when Clinton has left office and is allowed to pursue such endeavors, perhaps he can persuade Barkley’s shoe company that the commercial deserves a sequel. His job was to cause havoc in the Oval Office, Clinton could say. Not to raise our kids.