Doing What They Do Best

By Rick Horowitz

This feels right.

There's a bounce in the step again, a certain firmness in the stride, as they make their way down those famous corridors. In the West Wing -- and in the East Wing, too -- there's a new energy, a renewed sense of purpose in every hallway conversation and strategy session.

For a while they were shaky, but they're shaky no longer. The reason is simple: They're back to campaigning.

You have to hand it to the Defenders of Bill, inside and outside the White House: They didn't like the cards they were dealt in the Lewinsky mess, so they started a whole new game. An old game, actually -- the campaign game. The game they play as well as anyone.

A scandal is ugly. A criminal investigation is worse. But a campaign? They can do that with their eyes closed. (Under the circumstances, that might be the best way to do it.) Once they got past the mortification, it was just like old times.

Nonstop spin? Private eyes and "oppo" research? Fighting for the edge in every news cycle? No problem -- they're back on familiar turf. They didn't grab the big prize twice by being amateurs at this sort of thing. If they have to run a third campaign to hang on to the fruits of the first two, they're ready. They're willing.

They're lucky.

Anyone can have an opponent. Only the lucky ones can have an enemy. Only the very lucky ones can have Kenneth Starr as the enemy.

"Nonsense." Maybe that's when they realized just how lucky they were, when Ken Starr said "Nonsense" after Hillary Clinton started babbling on about the vast right-wing conspiracy out to get her husband. Ken Starr had only to be calm, professional. Just the facts, ma'am. But he rattled. He fired back.

"That is nonsense," he declared, and the White House knew -- because they know how campaigns work -- they knew they could get to him. Everything since has been more of the same. Now they spread stories about his deputies. Now they call him "fool," and "thug." He doesn't like being called "fool" and "thug."

He doesn't know how campaigns work; he still thinks this is a criminal investigation, still thinks the other guy is the target. So he lashes out. He strikes back with the weapons he has: subpoenas and more subpoenas. With every move he makes, he looks more foolish. More thuggish.

They've got him so far back on his heels, he's diagonal. When they get him horizontal, they'll put a foot on his windpipe and they'll squeeze.

In the meantime, say the voters, "A pox on both their houses!" That's OK with the White House, too. If the prosecutor is every bit as dirty as the suspect, then nobody's dirty.

There was a time once when people wondered about Bill Clinton, wondered what he'd do when he finally had no more campaigns to run. Compared to the rush of the rope line, they understood, governing can be a bore. How would he cope?

By finding another campaign. By doing whatever it takes to hold on.

And his people in the corridors? In the West Wing? In the East Wing? It also works for them. A bare-knuckled fight can be a wonderful distraction, as long as they can shove aside the tiny little secret at the center of it all. They can do this. They're good at this.

When the news first broke all those weeks ago, they thought they'd die of embarrassment. Now, once again, they have a reason to live.

They want to win.

2/27/98