That reference to a picture and its place told of someone from a very high place becoming part of the daily life of those in a lower place. There has been much talk in this election about the “honor and dignity” of the White House; about ancient misdemeanors and current stump exaggerations. About, really, moral leadership. But decades of observation and conversation tell me that “moral leadership” is infinitely more complicated than campaign rhetoric would suggest.
In JFK’s case, leadership, morally enacted, made for a felt intimate con- nection given everyday expression. President Clinton has not had such an intense relationship with large numbers of Americans, even as his personal life prompted episodes of moral consideration (and mockery)–while, also, news of his predecessor’s (President Kennedy’s) personal, sexual life was made known in ways unavailable, even unthinkable, more than 35 years ago. In 1998 and 1999 I heard children snicker at a president; I went back in my mind to JFK, long regarded as a moral leader, known now to be flawed personally. Clinton was similarly flawed (charged and self-described as such), and I began to think about the presidency as it connects with the inner life of children.
In a ninth-grade classroom a youth made this point: “When a person way up there, like President Clinton, falls down, it can be trouble for us, even if it’s [trouble] for him–we get dragged with him, we go that way, too.” I kept thinking of this as I noticed how children accommodate themselves to a president, take note of his failings, regard them through their particular sense of right and wrong.
One afternoon, during an 11th-grade history discussion, a young woman spoke of her grandmother’s response to a columnist who had written that “our children imitate a president who lies.” “I told Granny not to worry,” we in the class were told–and then a big argument, as some students agreed, affirmed that citizens young (and older, as well) might well take their cues, sometimes, from a president’s, a leader’s, example, whereas others disagreed, insisted that “events in Washington,” as one young man put it, “don’t count, not in a big way, not really… Hey, you’re who you are, and if some guy does some hanky-panky down in D.C., you’ll still be who you are. And either you couldn’t care less, or else you think it’s OK to go and do like he does, but that’s because of who you are. That’s how I see it.”
A hand was raised. I nodded. A young man spoke, his bemusement apparent on his face: “You have got to say that the president has got everyone talking about what’s right and what’s wrong. I think you should try to be fair: he’s done a lot of good for the country, a lot more than some of the people who are going after him, and call him bad. You can make a mistake, but if you’re going to judge a guy like the president, or anyone, you should look at the whole record, everything he’s done, my dad says. The other presidents–people didn’t know much about them. But this one’s slipped; he’s fallen on his face, and we all know, so we can all decide whether he’s really disgracing the country or only himself. Me? I’d want to go hide. I’ll bet some of the presidents, they could hide what they did–this poor guy, Clinton, he can’t.”
A young man took a risk, declaring himself without asking permission: “He’s the big boss, and he got himself in a big mess, and now we’re all learning a big lesson.” No further remarks–heads poised in obvious contemplation, even as some eyes came my way. I expressed my agreement, noticed a few youths catching on to the possible irony–that a fallen leader can be an inadvertent moral instructor-at-large.
The bell had rung, telling us to move along. We prepared to oblige–but a young lady raised her voice over the din, asked me directly “whether a president who makes a big mistake, a leader, can end up being good, a good teacher, even if he’s done bad things–I mean, because he has!” I answered guardedly: “Sure, it seems so.” I had in mind the very class we’d just had. There it is, I mused, a president and some schoolchildren amid a nation’s unfolding history: moral leadership paradoxically becoming immediately, intensely discussed, despite its distant, notable, regrettable lapse.
