TIME: Almanac 1995

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<text id=93TT0950> <link 93TO0132> <title> Jan. 25, 1993: Ready Or Not </title> <history> TIME--The Weekly Newsmagazine--1993 Jan. 25, 1993 Stand and Deliver: Bill Clinton </history> <article> <source>Time Magazine</source> <hdr> COVER STORIES, Page 26 Ready or Not </hdr> <body> As Clinton takes office, a slow start and a string of broken promises signal a rough ride ahead By MICHAEL DUFFY/WASHINGTON Since his election, Bill Clinton has more than demonstrated his brains, energy and rapid grasp of complex issues. He named his Cabinet by Christmas and kept his vow to bring diversity to top government posts. For two days in December, he conducted a tour de force over the economic landscape, dazzling TV viewers as he pitched and fielded questions on subjects ranging from capital formation to auto-emission controls. He even talked policy as he frolicked on the beach, giving some Americans an impression that they had elected a new-age Renaissance man who could juggle all sorts of modern challenges. In a TIME/CNN poll, 69% of those surveyed viewed Clinton as trustworthy enough to be President, up sharply from 49% in late October. It was inevitable that reality would catch up with his political promises, but in Clinton's case the reckoning crept up faster than he expected. As he came under fire for a remarkable string of discarded pledges last week, some weaknesses began to show. Democratic Party officials conceded that the transition had exposed traits that may hamper Clinton in the Oval Office. Although he is determined to master the details of policy, they said, he is often reluctant to confront politically difficult problems. His commitment to diversity is so complete that it frequently grinds his decision making to a halt. His greatest strength as a politician--his inclusiveness of people and ideas--hampers his ability to say no. "He's fairly slow, he's fairly indecisive, and he's easily sidetracked," said an adviser who nonetheless admires Clinton. "And the will to please is so prevalent that it is interfering with his effectiveness." Clinton's desire to give no offense led him to make many of the campaign promises that now lie bent and broken on the floor. Some of the latest reversals were unavoidable: Clinton's campaign mathematics were untenable long before the Bush Administration revised its projections of future deficits. Budget Director Richard Dar man's estimate of deficits in excess of $300 billion through 1997 simply hastened the need for Clinton to curtail his plans and start spinning down expectations. In early January, aides began to back away from his improbable plans to provide tax relief to middle-class Americans, spend $20 billion on infrastructure this year, oppose a gasoline tax and still cut the deficit in half by 1996. Explained a top economic adviser: "You gotta let people know we're gonna do some tough things." The deficit dodge might have been acceptable by itself. But it was accompanied by a number of other retreats and conversions, which revived the lingering impression of Clinton as a "pander bear" who would say anything to get elected. His aides backed away from a promise to trim the White House staff 25%; plans to present an economic blueprint on Jan. 21 were postponed six weeks. After condemning as "callous" the Bush policy of turning back boatloads of Haitians, including those with valid asylum claims, Clinton had to reverse himself when he found out that as many as 10,000 Haitians were preparing to brave dangerous seas once he was sworn in. Last week he embraced the Bush policy, at least for the time being, and urged the would-be immigrants to stay home. The Coast Guard dispatched a special armada of 17 cutters and patrol boats to turn back anyone who ignored Clinton's plea. Asked last week if there were any campaign promises that he wouldn't break, a visibly annoyed Clinton snapped, "The American people would think I was foolish if I didn't respond to changing circumstances." Privately, Clinton's advisers cringed at the wreckage left behind by all the U-turns. "Our pants aren't even off yet," said a top adviser, "and the honeymoon is already over." Part of Clinton's problem may simply be that he talks too much, explains too much and makes too many excuses. He doesn't fully realize that, as President, his every word will receive microscopic attention--and will be compared with everything he said before. At a press conference last week, an angry Clinton twice denied to reporters that he had been asked in an interview with the New York Times a day earlier about normalizing relations with Iraq's Saddam Hussein. In fact, Clinton had been asked three times. Transition spokesman George Stephanopoulos had to issue a statement saying Clinton "inadvertently forgot that he'd been asked that specific question...He regrets denying that it was asked." The whole incident was silly--except as a reflection of Clinton's reluctance to exercise discipline over what he says. Some aides speak of sometimes having to interrupt Clinton in private meetings to bring what seem like endless discussions to a close. A participant in a recent strategy session noted that some of Clinton's economic advisers "come from a world where if you don't get to the bottom line fast, someone else will do it for you." Clinton recognizes his tendency to be methodical. He described his selection of top staff members as a "pretty tough slog," and admits things haven't gone as fast as he would like. Last week the staffing situation became so critical that Clinton asked Bush partisans for help; after requesting the resignations of all Bush Administration appointees, transition officials reversed their stand and indicated that they would prefer the Bush brigades to stay in place until they can be replaced "on a case-by-case basis." Too late, in many cases: Bush has already told hundreds of officials to leave office on Inauguration Day. The early confusion stems in part from Clinton's apparent belief that he can handle his new job much as he did his old one, as Governor of a small state. It was quite possible in Arkansas for Clinton and his wife to immerse themselves in the half a dozen major issues and stay in personal touch with the 500 or so people who mattered most. In Washington, far more than 500 people are registered to lobby Congress on health-care reform alone. Problems that might be undone in Little Rock with a couple of phone calls can turn into a two-day story in Washington. "It's hard to believe that he and Hillary think they can still do it by themselves, just like in Arkansas," said a Democratic adviser. Clinton has nonetheless organized his White House so that all lines lead to his door. He has maintained a tight hold on all personnel decisions, discussing his choices only with his wife and the tiniest circle of old allies. His choice of the amiable Thomas ("Mack") McLarty as White House chief of staff--and the notable lack of a strong-armed Washington veteran elsewhere in the West Wing--suggests that he intends to continue making most of the decisions himself. Clinton admits his tendency toward micromanagement--"I lean toward getting into the details of it," he acknowledged last week--but added, "As I get more comfortable with it, I'll be able to delegate more and more." Several party veterans predict privately that the President-elect will need to be far more decisive for this Clintocentric system to work, and hint that he'll need to rely heavily on a White House staff to sort out the big decisions from the small ones. But last week many of the same officials questioned whether Clinton had chosen a staff of sufficient depth and heft to meet the challenge. Before Clinton tapped a conspicuously young White House staff, party elders tried in vain to bring in more seasoned Washington hands. "This whole thing has been structured as spokes of a wheel leading into the President," said a party official. "That's O.K. when you have a strong staff, like in the campaign, but this does not look like a strong staff." Clinton generated unusual internal resentment when he kept many of his most loyal aides in the dark about their jobs until late last week. Some longtime aides blamed transition aide Susan Thomases, a New York attorney and friend of Hillary's, for vetoing strong candidates and enacting a strict quota policy that tilted last-minute personnel choices toward women and minorities. But others said Thomases was simply acting as the Clintons' enforcer and was worried that after she returns to her New York law practice, the President-elect would lack "a bad cop" to execute painful decisions. Already, top Clinton team members expect that the role of enforcer may soon be played by Hillary Clinton. Last week the President-elect spoke almost wistfully of being unable to tear down walls in the West Wing so Hillary could have an office nearer to him. Several officials say they expect the First Lady to work out of a corner office on the second floor of the West Wing--about as far as you can get from the Oval Office and still be in the same building. But as an official put it, "Wherever she sits will be the chief of staff's office." White House veterans say Clinton must take steps early to prevent Hillary from being transformed into an unaccountable power center. "If Hillary is going to let herself be a visible yet undefined force in the West Wing," said a Bush Administration veteran, "then she is setting herself up to be Sununu-ized. Everybody who makes an appeal to Hillary and wins will leak it. And everybody who makes an appeal and loses will leak it too. Over time, that will be bad for Bill. They've got to define it so that everyone knows what her authority will be." One reason Clinton has been a successful politician is that he works hard for consensus. Once he makes a decision, aides say, he so thoroughly shops it around for reaction that it almost inevitably is revised in the process. That creates the impression that he is easily swayed. Clinton, for example, backed away from a strong candidate for chairman of the Council of Economic Advisers--World Bank chief economist Larry Summers--after Al Gore and other environmentalists objected to Summers' writings that seemed to favor dumping toxins in Third World countries. Clinton sometimes leaves the impression that no sale is ever final. A week before Clinton named Bruce Babbitt to be Interior Secretary, the Arizona Democrat was told by Clinton aides to prepare to become U.S. Trade Representative. Babbitt spent a week boning up on the subject, and flew to Little Rock on the eve of the announcement thinking he was joining the economic team. Later that night, he was told to switch gears. Cracked a Babbitt admirer: "He's the best-prepared Trade Representative that Interior has ever had." At other times, for all of Clinton's love of process and consensus, he has shown a tendency to depart from it on a whim. Attorney General-designate Zoe Baird told Clinton about her employment of illegal aliens as drivers and nannies last November, but she survived the transition's much vaunted vetting process anyway. Clinton turned to campaign chairman Mickey Kantor to be his Trade Representative even though the Los Angeles lawyer has no experience with the issue and must recuse himself from two upcoming rulings because the law firm in which he retains a financial interest represents NEC, a Japanese semiconductor company, and the automobile firm Suzuki. Clinton has received high marks for naming nearly as many blacks and women as Wasp men to his Cabinet. But centrist Democrats have reason to doubt Clinton's commitment to political reform. Several of the "new Democrats" who helped generate the best ideas for Clinton's campaign, including Democratic Leadership Council luminaries David Osborne and Robert Shapiro, have not found places in the new regime. Said former drug czar and Education Secretary Bill Bennett: "We know now that `a place called Hope' seems to be a room full of lawyers." For all the ethnic and gender diversity of Clinton's Cabinet, 14 of its 18 members are attorneys. Nor does Clinton seem eager to hurl spears at the Democratic special interests that have long held sway over party doctrine. When the Clintons decided to send their 13-year-old daughter Chelsea to a private school, they failed to accompany the announcement with any challenge to public schools or teachers' unions to make themselves more competitive. On the contrary: Clinton's designated Education Secretary vowed that the President-elect opposed a pilot program to extend to lower- and middle-income families the choice of private schools that the Clintons enjoy. "One is left wondering," said a Clinton adviser, "when and where the `change' is coming from." Clinton's slowness in developing an economic plan has led to a confused political strategy. Because Clinton's team is still unsure what policy to pursue, the President-elect has sent out mixed signals to the public. In late November, Clinton played down reports of a resurgent economy on the eve of the holiday shopping season, apparently to preserve dissipating political momentum for a short-term spending program to stimulate the economy. When the deficit estimates mushroomed in early January, Clinton's aides said the stimulus might have to shrink, though the final amount seems very much in flux. "If we haven't figured out which combination of short-term and long-term economic proposals," said a planner, "then maybe we should just shut up." Doug Bailey, the publisher of the Political Hotline, noted last week that some of the momentum of Clinton's election has been lost in the mixed messages of the transition. "The economic summit was part and parcel of their goal to define the mandate of the election," Bailey said. "But if you ask voters now what is the mandate, people could only guess." In the wake of his broken pledges, Clinton made a point last week of repeating his top five priorities: increasing growth and investment, reducing the deficit, reforming health care, instituting national service and reforming campaign finance. "I think you can look forward to seeing major initiatives in those areas early," he said, "and real effort to pass them all." Early in the transition, Clinton often praised Ronald Reagan's take-charge first year, when Congress passed a revolutionary package of tax and spending cuts. With Clinton now enjoying high levels of public confidence, some advisers are urging him to follow Reagan's example and spend his political capital on cutting the deficit and fixing the health-care mess. If he does, notes a top Republican strategist who worked for both Reagan and Bush, his start-up problems won't matter. "What does matter is results," he said. "I believe that Clinton knows what he ought to do with the deficit and the economy. But I don't know if he has the political guts to do it. He will be smart if he does. And if he doesn't, it will eat him. We didn't have guts enough to solve it, and it ate President Bush." Eat or be eaten. Starting this week, that's Bill Clinton's challenge. </body> </article> </text>