LATE IN THE EVENING OF SEPTEMBER 5, Rep. Jim Moran, a Virginia Democrat, received a phone call at home from Rahm Emanuel, a senior White House official. Emanuel wanted to discuss what Moran — who had emerged as a vocal critic of President Clinton — was going to say the next morning on Fox News Sunday. In no time at all, Emanuel lobbied Moran not to be too tough on the president, assuring him the White House could “beat” the independent counsel’s rap. Moran told Emanuel he had it all wrong: “The issue isn’t beating the charges; it’s restoring the moral authority of the presidency” — the very message he repeated on Fox 10 hours later.
Of all the House Democrats who have spoken out against the president, Moran has carried the most weight. He’s been a Clinton ally on a range of White House priorities, from the 1993 budget deal to the renewal of fast-track trading authority. Moreover, he’s one of the few congressional Democrats who qualify as Friends of Bill. The first weekend after Monica Lewinsky became a household name, Clinton invited Moran and his wife to the White House for dinner and a screening of The Apostle (whose stars, Robert Duvall and Farrah Fawcett, were also there). Less than a month later, Clinton broke with his practice of not appearing at individual fund-raisers for House candidates when he showed up at a party for Moran in Georgetown. “I like the guy,” said Moran at the time. “I find it easy to support him.”
But Moran has sung a different tune since Clinton’s August 17 speech admitting the Lewinsky liaison. The congressman says he’s “deeply disappointed” in Clinton’s behavior and predicts that if he’s not removed from office, “he will survive as a flawed man and quite possibly a failed president.” In mid-September, Moran made news when he warned that “the president has to come up with a way . . . to put an end to this, and I’m just not creative enough to think of a way other than resignation.” Last week, Moran had contempt for Clinton’s lobbying of House Democrats against the GOP-sponsored impeachment inquiry. “A true leader,” he told me, “says, ‘Put down your swords, don’t fall on them.'” The culmination of Moran’s effort came on October 8, when he published a piece in the Washington Post explaining his support for the inquiry and zinging the White House for trying to tar the exercise as partisan.
Moran is almost as angry with his Democratic colleagues as he is with Clinton. Their judgment, he says, “is clouded by their antipathy toward Ken Starr, Newt Gingrich, and Tom DeLay.” The day before last week’s votes on the inquiry, Moran spoke at a meeting of the House Democratic caucus and explained that an overwhelming Democratic vote against the Republican proposal would make the party look like it wanted to short-circuit the investigation. He added that such a vote also risked turning the November election into a referendum on the president — a referendum he argued “we can’t win.” But Moran didn’t gain many converts: Just 30 of the 206 House Democrats joined him in voting for the Republican inquiry.
Moran’s apostasy is noteworthy because there’s no obvious political motive involved. Unlike many other Democrats who voted for the GOP-proposed inquiry, he’s not retiring, he’s not a conservative, and he’s not in a close race for reelection. Indeed, his suburban Washington district is a Democratic stronghold: 21 percent of its residents are federal employees — the second-highest percentage of any congressional district in the country — and 90 percent of his calls have supported the president (even his own daughter called in to complain about his stance). Moran got a taste of local opinion last week when he ventured to a country Democratic meeting and was berated for crossing Clinton. Yet some of the district’s conservatives are so pleased with his candor they’re planning to vote for him.
That’s small consolation considering the pressure on Moran to pipe down. His fund-raising took a hit last month when the pro-Clinton Irish-American Democratic Caucus withdrew a $ 5,000 contribution. And he’s been lobbied not only by Emanuel but by other senior White House aides, like Paul Begala and Susan Brophy. When their cajoling didn’t move him, Hillary Rodham Clinton herself placed a call in mid-September. During their 30-minute conversation, she assured Moran her husband hadn’t committed any impeachable offenses and that he wasn’t guilty of perjury. She also said that because she and her husband were a partnership, she interpreted any criticism of him as being a criticism of her. Even this extraordinary effort fell flat.
It’s probably too late for Clinton to weigh in, though that might be the one thing that would prevent Moran from taking the logical next step: calling on the president to resign. So far, Moran has said that’s a decision for the president alone to make, though Moran has made clear he doesn’t want him to slither away scotfree. He has floated the idea of stripping Clinton of his post-presidency pension of $ 152,000 a year. But neither Republicans nor Democrats have warmed to the idea.
There’s one sense in which Moran’s criticisms are political: He recognizes that Clinton’s behavior, and subsequent lies about it, undermines his authority to push the party toward policies promoting personal responsibility. As co-chairman of the centrist New Democrat Coalition in the House, he’d like to have more Democratic colleagues who agree with his assertion that “there’s only one person responsible for the mess we’re in. It’s not Ken Starr, it’s not Janet Reno, and it’s not Richard Mellon Scaife. It’s the man who resides in the White House.”
Moran’s greatest concerns are moral. He simply can’t believe Clinton would humiliate his family by having an affair with Lewinsky. “Where’s the sense of right and wrong?” he asks. “Where’s the sense of shame? the sense of honor?”
If other Democrats begin to talk like that, the president will have more trouble than he can handle.
Matthew Rees is a staff writer for THE WEEKLY STANDARD.
