Poor Diagnosis, Bad Prescription
Gloria Borger explains how arrogance and naivete doomed Clinton's helath care plan
Yet the White House considered Moynihan its greatest Democratic thorn. "I have to call Pat Moynihan every day," Clinton groused to Rostenkowski after the voluble chairman announced on television that there was a crisis in welfare, not health care. And Moynihan constantly reminded the Clintons that health care reform needed to be bipartisan. He told it to the president last January 25, the day of Clinton's State of the Union speech, and again on February 6. "I just remind the president that it takes 60 votes to win the Senate, and we cannot do it without Bob Dole," said Moynihan.
Silent deal. In fact, Moynihan and the GOP leader had an unspoken pact: When the time was right, they might cut a deal, as they had on Social Security. But in May, when Dole passed him a note asking if it was time for a deal, Moynihan could do nothing: In Washington, Democrats were critical of his bipartisan urgings. Back home in New York, he had to pay some homage to the Clinton bill or lose important labor support. By the time the White House might have been ready to compromise, it was too late: Dole had become the Darth Vader of health reform, tugged by his party's right wing and his own presidential ambitions.
Capitol Hill grew uncontrollable. Indictments forced Rostenkowski to resign his chair, and without his guidance the Ways and Means Committee endorsed a version of reform that was too liberal to pass the full House. The Senate Finance Committee dithered, then passed a version of Clinton's plan. Dole introduced his own measure, getting most Republicans on board. And the moderates formed a rump bipartisan group that wrote real legislation. As they met with the president, one by one, each grew optimistic. Leader John Chafee, a Rhode Island Republican, believed Clinton had told him in June to "forget employer mandates." Republican John Danforth of Missouri was told he was "on the right track." But when they brought the news to their Democratic colleagues, it was met with a shrug. "It was like they were being dismissive" of their president, says Danforth.
Some White House officials are philosophical about their defeat. "The earnest prospect of health care has already cut costs and started a revolution," says McLarty. And Rubin offers that "when you talk about social change of this magnitude, maybe you have to break through in a big way." There is no way to know whether the administration could have succeeded if it had tried for something short of reordering the entire health care system. That is what allies tell Mrs. Clinton, whom friends describe as "sobered." Says one: "In her whole life, no one has questioned her ability." But next time, her friends say, she should do something that doesn't require counting votes.
The cynical view, even among some administration insiders, is that the Clintons first embraced massive health reform as a tool to win the presidency. As a campaign issue, it worked. As the centerpiece of Clinton's first term, it collapsed. What remains is little more than national exhaustion as the herculean effort deflates. Clinton may be spared the public's wrath because people are more relieved than angry. But that says very little about the prospects for another crusade.
advertisement
