Friday,
September 18, 1998
The Cincinnati Enquirer
You can come out
now. The roadblocks are gone. Bill Clinton, the commander in cheats,
has left town.
After attending
Thursday's pass-the-hat luncheon at Stan Chesley's place in Amberley
Village, the president is back in Washington, D.C., with all the
other dissemblers.
Sorry. Do I sound
angry? I am.
Hope this doesn't
offend anyone's sensibilities or wilt their Wheaties, but just
the thought of Bill Clinton being in town, slapping backs, shaking
hands, and (shudder) maybe even puffing on a cigar, made my stomach
churn. I'm sick to death of the man's lies, his dancing around
the issues, his hair-splitting of such terms as "sexual relations"
and his seemingly allergic reaction to the truth.
Even more, I fear
what comes from lies. Lying is dangerous and habit-forming. And
the effects of just one lie are far-reaching.
Deadly deceit
You can't just
tell one lie. You have to back it up to make it sound believable.
So you lie and lie and lie again.
And once a lie
is out there, everything that is said or done as a result of that
lie rests on a false foundation. Even good deeds or acts of faith,
if based on a lie, can collapse on people's heads.
Lies burrow deep
into personal relationships. Once you catch someone lying, doubts
are cast on every encounter, every conversation. You can never
be sure you are hearing the truth. Even when a person swears something's
true, you find it hard to believe them.
Lies can come between
husbands and wives, parents and children, between a president
and his country.
During the Vietnam
era, lies and misinformation from the White House poisoned the
national debate and left years of deep-seated mistrust of the
government.
On a far more personal
level, I learned the hard way how much lies can hurt. I was 4
years old and told a lie. Discovered, I was banished to the living
room "to think about it." I did, facing a blank wall,
stomach growling, alone as the rest of the family ate dinner without
me in the next room. I had let them down. It hurt me that I had
hurt them, and I never forgot the lesson.
Lying ayes
Lies destroy trust.
And without trust, love and respect don't have a chance. In their
place you find mistrust, hatred, disrespect -- and anger.
Bill Clinton's
lies make me very angry.
And apparently
I'm not alone. The Cincinnati Enquirer received 1,464 responses
from readers wanting to give Bill Clinton a piece of their mind
during Thursday's visit. A good chunk of the responses were along
the lines of "You're a liar. I'm mad."
One source of all
this anger, I'm told, is that we recognize a bit of the liar in
ourselves.
"We are suffering
from collective anger brought on by collective guilt," said
Joel Milgram, professor of education and human development at
the University of Cincinnati.
He told me the
president's lies "have reminded us that everybody lies. They
have shown us what lies can lead to. They can open you to ridicule.
They can get you in trouble."
In an age where
almost every flawed character is forgiven -- even Marv Albert
is back in the broadcast booth -- we still shun liars as if they
were lepers.
"Liars represent
trickery," the professor added. "They mislead you. And
give you misinformation. Base decisions on their misinformation,
and you can really get messed up."
Before the Lewinsky
affair hit the fan, Bill Clinton was thinking about his place
in history. It was widely reported that he polled his advisers
for their opinions of his administration's legacy. Most responses
revolved around the economy and world peace.
If that poll were
conducted today, I would bet many of the president's advisers
-- people burned by their boss' lies -- would have little trouble
telling the truth.
Lies can be a legacy,
too.
Columnist
Cliff Radel
Copyright
2000 The Cincinnati Enquirer
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