In retrospect, this was about the only advance warning Bill Clinton gave that he was ready, finally, to grab hold of his presidency: he was loose. Even so, the first 10 minutes of his State of the Union speech was, essentially, business as usual. It wasn’t until he hit health care that the weird stuff began-“the oratorical equivalent of bungee-jumping,” an aide later said. “All of our efforts to strengthen the economy will fail,” the president read, then–suddenly–launched himself into hyperspace: “Let me say this again; I feel so strongly about this. All of our efforts … will fail unless we also take this year-not next year, not five years from now, but this year-bold steps to reform our health-care system.” From there, Clinton was flying by the seat of his pants–cracking wise, adding lines, adding whole paragraphs. He seemed-for the first time in months-really comfortable, totally on his ‘game, riffing the State of the Union.
We haven’t seen anything quite like this before. Ronald Reagan never met a Tele-PrompTer he didn’t love. Most other television-age presidents–except Kennedy–didn’t have the skill to do much more than read. By contrast, it’s becoming clear that for Bill Clinton a prepared text is an admission of failure. When he really knows his stuff, he feeds off his audience, customizing his message, sensing their needs and anxieties. He is our first postmodern president. He does best when interactive (unlike Reagan, Clinton can’t work an empty room-his maiden Oval Office effort last Monday was blah). On Wednesday, he had two audiences-Congress and the American people-and he was smart enough to use the Congress as a foil, especially the hapless Republicans (though the Democrats didn’t get off easily either). After a tepid bipartisan reaction to his call for political reform, he taunted: “Believe me, they were cheering that last section back home.”
It was a virtuoso performance, and not a moment too soon: his presidency was in jeopardy, especially in the corridors of power. “There is no fear here,” a Senate staffer had said a week earlier. There may be some now: Clinton showed that he can make them seem timid, foolish, craven. He can go around them, to the American people, and make a case that sells.
Certainly, the serious nature of the plan itself won’t earn the president much respect from his peers. Clinton has risked his place in history on two abstractions: deficit reduction and the idea that long-term investment" in education and infrastructure can lead to greater prosperity. Both are worthy, but a bit too theoretical; most pols thrive on less airy fare-they understand slogans (“no new taxes”) and spending programs that pay off now. Indeed, most of official Washington lacked the interest or vocabulary to challenge Clinton on his most vulnerable turf: his “investments.” Was he proposing anything as worthy as the GI Bill or the interstate highway system? Instead, the “debate” has proved a classic Washington Hypocrithon: Republicans calling for spending cuts they can’t name and don’t really want, while Democrats wait in the bushes, looking for an opportunity to gut the modest limitations Clinton has proposed. The GOP bleating actually may work to the president’s advantage, keeping the spotlight on the cuts so the Dems can’t make off with them. The silliness of the debate diverted attention from the real import of the week: Bill Clinton, who may have been elected because he wasn’t the other guy, has now emerged as a formidable American political presence. He has announced the table stakes and they will be high. No president has ever gone to the Congress with such an ambitious, and painful, and politically risky proposal so early in his administration. “There is a tradition of asking for cuts in spending-Reagan, Coolidge, even Jefferson did that,” says Alan Brinkley, the Columbia University historian. “But I don’t think there is a precedent for anything like this.” More important, the new president has shown the source of his power: he can connect with the people. They seem to trust him, despite ample evidence that he might not always be trustworthy-even to the point of being willing to give him their hard-earned money. Like Reagan, he’s a charmer. He’ll prove resilient. This is not Jimmy Carter II. This is Elvis I.
