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Who is Bill Clinton?

A man whose presidency was disgraced by impeachment - yet who remains one of the most popular presidents of our time.

A man whose autobiography, My Life, was panned by critics as a self-indulgent daily diary -but rode the bestseller lists for months.

A man whose policies changed America at the close of the twentieth century - yet whose weakness left us vulnerable to terror at the dawn of the twenty-first.

No one better understands the inner Bill Clinton, that creature of endless and vexing contradiction, than Dick Morris. From the Arkansas governor's races through the planning of the triumphant 1996 reelection, Morris was Clinton's most valued political adviser. Now, in the wake of Clinton's million-selling memoir My Life, Morris and his wife, Eileen McGann, set the record straight with Because He Could, a frank and perceptive deconstruction of the story Clinton tells - and the many more revealing stories he leaves untold.

With the same keen insight they brought to Hillary Clinton's life in their recent bestseller Rewriting History, Morris and McGann uncover the hidden sides of the complicated and sometimes dysfunctional former president. Whereas Hillary is anxious to mask who she really is, they show, Bill Clinton inadvertently reveals himself at every turn-as both brilliant and undisciplined, charming yet often filled with rage, willing to take wild risks in his personal life but deeply reluctant to use the military to protect our national security. The Bill Clinton who emerges is familiar-reflexively blaming every problem on right-wing persecutors or naïve advisers-but also surprising: passive, reactive, working desperately to solve a laundry list of social problems yet never truly grasping the real thrust of his own presidency. And while he courted danger in his personal life, the authors argue that Clinton's downfall has far less to do with his private demons than with his fear of the one person who controlled his future: his own first lady.

Sharp and stylishly written, full of revealing insider anecdotes, Because He Could is a fresh and probing portrait of one of the most fascinating, and polarizing, figures of our time.

Chapter One:

Cracking the Clinton Code

"A riddle wrapped in a mystery inside an enigma": Sir Winston Churchill's famous phrase has become familiar shorthand for almost anything we cannot easily understand. And in modern politics no figure embodies this phenomenon better than our forty-second president, William Jefferson Clinton. So much about him is still a puzzle. Even after eight years of watching his extraordinarily visible presidency and twelve years of listening to the endless scrutiny of his personality by pundits from every segment of the political spectrum, we still can't really say that we truly understand this complex, contradictory man.

Bill Clinton is a study in opposites. Consider the facts: He was one of the most popular and successful presidents in modern history. At the same time, he was disgraced by his transgressions in office, becoming only the second president to be impeached by the House of Representatives since the creation of our republic. As the first postmodern president, he was revered as a cultural icon by his supporters, while at the same time loathed and reviled by his opponents as "illegitimate." His charisma, intellect, and charm are the core of his attractiveness, and captivate even the most skeptical observers. But his dark side -- his moodiness, temper, self-absorption, and lack of discipline -- are unappealing and make him an easy target for his critics. Even reaction to the story of his life, as he has now told it in book form, has been widely split. When he appears on television to hype its publication, the ratings go through the roof. And yet, when reviewed in print, the book has been panned, even ridiculed. This polarity itself -- in his personality and in his image -- only adds to his mystery and his celebrity. Whether they love him or hate him, the public wants to know all they can about him.

So curious are Americans about who Bill Clinton really is that his memoir, My Life, sold more than a million copies in its first weeks. In fact, among politicians, Clinton's only serious rival in the nonfiction best-seller lists has been his equally opaque wife, Hillary Rodham Clinton, and her autobiography, Living History.

But the two memoirs are as different as Bill and Hillary themselves. In Living History, a thoroughly self-disciplined woman carefully masks who she really is. In My Life, a very complicated and sometimes dysfunctional man inadvertently and unwittingly reveals his actual character -- at least to readers diligent enough to find him in its almost one thousand pages.

My Life is a metaphor for Bill Clinton himself. Like him, it is sometimes interesting, sometimes refreshingly open, sometimes fascinating. Just as often, however, it is incomplete, misleading, chaotic, overly detailed, superficial, and inconsistent. Still, hidden among the disorder is the remarkable story of who Bill Clinton is. And that story is very different from the one he tries to tell, and to sell. Despite the 957 pages he has exhaustively written about himself, the Bill Clinton in My Life, remains impenetrable, lurking somewhere behind the mind-numbing litany of trips, meetings, campaign stops, meals, and scandals. At first glance, his book seems to reveal little about his thinking, his motivations, or his emotions. He even manages to avoid telling us about the obvious pain and humiliation he must have suffered when he was impeached; instead he merely expresses contempt and rage.

Yet, once we begin judging the text of My Life against the available evidence -- by piecing together what he says, what he doesn't say, what others have said, and what the public record shows actually happened -- a clearer, more accurate picture of the man emerges. In fact, in order to find the real Bill Clinton within the pages of My Life, it's important to understand what I think of as the Clinton Code-correlating what Clinton says (or doesn't say) with other data and experience, and reconciling the obvious differences. Without that Code, we cannot grasp all of the former president's assets and failings, his unique abilities, and his countervailing limitations, as they are exposed in the book.

As a twenty-year veteran of Bill Clinton's campaigns and administrations, I have long and rich experience with his politics, his thinking, and his personality. For years I observed him at close range; I watched him think and act, make decisions, delay decisions, and avoid decisions. Eventually I grew confident that I understood his mind and motivations. And yet, despite all my experience with Clinton, not until I read My Life did I fully crack the Clinton Code. There, like a patient who has spent too long talking on his psychiatrist 's couch, Clinton provided the missing pieces that permitted me-for the first time since we met in 1977-to understand this man fully.

Once decoded, despite its obvious omissions and limitations, My Life offers a guided tour through the labyrinths of the brilliant but cluttered, disorganized, and often raging mind of Bill Clinton. As a historical guide to the Clinton presidency, My Life is disappointing. There are no surprises, no nuances, and no compelling lessons. Page after page provide a diary-style summary of notable events, without any organized or logical theme. State dinners, foreign trips, and meetings with cabinet members are given the same weight as golf outings, appearances before the grand jury, and letters from children of friends. We learn what he ate for lunch every day in college, but not why he pardoned the drug dealer client of Hillary's brother. He describes in detail the floor plan of the small apartment he and Hillary shared in New Haven, but is silent about their solicitation of expensive Spode china, silver, and other gifts from donors while still in the White House. Did he really think readers would care that the bedroom in New Haven was between the dining room and the kitchen? Did he think we wouldn't notice his decision to ignore the gift fiasco?

              For centuries, Egyptian hieroglyphics remained mere inscrutable markings to scholars and archaeologists-until finally a soldier in Napoleon’s army happened upon the Rosetta stone, where the same text was written in hieroglyphics, Egyptian, and Greek. Comparing the three texts allowed scholars to decode the hieroglyphics and make them comprehensible for all to read. Deciphering My Life is a similar exercise in cryptography. Just as the translation of the Rosetta stone led to an understanding of the history and culture of the ancient Egyptians, the unraveling we’ll undertake here offers a new way of looking at and comprehending the convoluted world of Bill Clinton. By comparing Clinton’s version of reality with what actually happened, we’ll be able to understand not only the gaps and errors in his account-but the broader reasons behind the disparity.

              But this book has a larger mission. My Life, after all, is no ordinary volume, but the memoirs of a controversial and highly image-conscious president. Because He Could offers a needed corrective: an attempt to correct, explain, elaborate upon, contextualize, and rebut the spin in the former president’s memoirs. This mission is compelling, even urgent, lest Clinton’s sometimes distorted and always self-indulgent version of events harden into accepted historical “fact.” The telling of stories has always been important to both Hillary and Bill Clinton. Together, they have cleverly used such tales as a tool to establish their brand, convey their message, and shape their public image. Only days after the first Clinton inauguration, Hillary told the president’s top aides that one of the reasons for her husband’s failure in his first term as governor of Arkansas was that they did not have a “clear story line.” Both Clintons were determined that would never happen again. From then on, the stories were always complete. Not always true, but always clear. Bill Clinton’s memoirs are just another installment in their continuing efforts to mold their images and rewrite their histories.

            In its bid to persuade posterity to view his administration through the same lens as its author, My Life has its heroes: Hillary, Boris Yeltsin, Al Gore, the Democratic Party, and, mainly, Clinton himself. It also, of course, has its villains: Newt Gingrich, Kenneth Starr, and the right wing. And it has its missing persons-those who played key roles (even if they were cameos) in his life or administration, yet who simply go unmentioned, like the inconvenient figures airbrushed out of a Stalinist propaganda photo. These ghosts may not exist in Bill Clinton’s world anymore, yet their stories remain on the historical record, and they give us important clues about Clinton himself. Why did he choose to obliterate certain people? Why make them disappear?

              Because he could.

            Not surprisingly, throughout the book Bill Clinton bends and twists the facts to suit his uniquely personal version of events. On nearly every page, we can almost see him straining to create the illusions he wants us to share, to accept his justifications and rationalizations. My Life represents Clinton’s last stab at making things come out right.

            To aid his reelection in 1996, Clinton-with great assistance from his speechwriter Don Baer-wrote a book he entitled Between Hope and History. In Because He Could, we probe the gap between Clinton’s hopes of how history will remember his presidency . . . and what its history actually was.

            Why should we bother? Why is it important to revisit the tortured paths of Clinton’s story, to parse out the slender threads of reality from the wishful worldview expressed in My Life? Is it really worth the effort, merely to correct the former president’s latest batch of tall tales?

             The demands of history, on their own, make this journey necessary. However, the spectacle of My Life also provides an intrinsically fascinating window into how one man has accessed, altered, and articulated his own reality. Like a latter-day Alice, we enter into the Clintonian world on the other side of the looking glass, always comparing and contrasting it with what really happened.

             What do we see through that looking glass? For one thing, we see a president who was buffeted constantly by other people-who was seemingly paralyzed by contradictory advice, yet hypnotized by consensus. Time and again, Clinton contends that the actions he took in a given situation were against his better judgment, as though he had no choice in the matter. Yet, of course, he had options. He could have led. He needn’t have taken the path of least resistance.

             Those who know Clinton and worked for him find an eerie echo of his real character in the pages of My Life. While historians traditionally see activist presidents as initiators-men who grab history by the horns and wrestle it to the ground, twisting it to their own purposes-Bill Clinton was, above all else, responsive and passive, guided and goaded by the stimuli around him. Rapid response, Clinton’s enduring contribution to the lexicon of political tactics, emerges from the pages of his memoir as a metaphor for his entire incumbency.

             This was not always a liability. When motivated by the pain he saw in the world around him, Clinton was at his empathetic best, grasping the emotions of others and internalizing them, making them his own. His universe is populated by the stories of other people, anecdotes that impel him to act-in his words, to “give people a chance to have better stories.” Over and over again, the book describes how one needy person or another motivated Bill Clinton to try to change government programs to protect the disadvantaged.

             When he was vexed by political opposition, however, Clinton would lash out in self-protective rages and slashing attempts to apportion blame to others-revealing, in the process, his own essential weakness and curious passivity. In My Life, Bill Clinton depicts himself as the victimized president, pushed and pulled by events he cannot control, advised by inept aides, and swept along by the frothing white water of partisan scandal.

             Despite its Herculean efforts at self-justification, My Life actually provides a wealth of evidence to explain both how he achieved his successes, and how his failures came to bedevil us.

His words are revealing. Through his persistent emphases in My Life, we come to see how Clinton’s highly tuned antenna amplified all risk to a screeching volume, making the political dangers of each course of action glaringly apparent. So he never ordered the raids that might have killed Osama bin Laden and stopped 9/11. So he never made the critical disclosures that might have nipped many of his most debilitating scandals in the bud. So he never negotiated the political compromises that might have left America with a good health care system or a secure Social Security.

             The hero of My Life, in fact, often appears frozen in place, torn by his warring desires to please everybody, to minimize conflict, to appease Hillary, to respond to the tales of woe in hundreds of pained stories. The man who held the most powerful post on the planet spends page after page lamenting his inability to take action. The word “can’t” looms around every corner; obstacles seem to leave him helpless to carve out his own direction or even policy. Yet most of these inhibitions were fictions, invented to cover Clinton’s real motivations or pumped up into major obstacles to protect his inactivity from criticism.

             Throughout the second half of the book, which covers the White House years, we see a man in a perpetual eight-year bad mood, brooding over insults, impotently protesting his innocence as his hard-hearted adversaries roast him over a slow fire. But somehow he manages to see himself as a sunny optimist, rattled only occasionally by the evil forces scheming to transform innocent actions by him and Hillary into undeserved scandals.

             The scandals march through the pages of My Life-each blamed on the fevered imaginations of his partisan pursuers and prosecutors. According to his memoirs, the one common denominator that marked all his scandals-his draft evasion, the Gennifer Flowers affair, the Travel Office firings, Vince Foster’s suicide, the missing billing records, Whitewater, the “consulting fees” to Webb Hubbell after the Rose Law Firm scandal, the FBI file scandal, Hillary’s commodities market trading, the Paula Jones lawsuit, the groping of Kathleen Willey, the crisis that led from Monica Lewinsky to impeachment, the campaign finance scandal, the export of satellite technology to China, the pardons for the FALN terrorists, and, in the final hours of his presidency, the pardons for the clients of Hillary’s brothers and fugitive Marc Rich, the theft of White House gifts, and Hillary’s gift registry-was his own innocence.

             We are told that each scandal stems from some misunderstanding exploited and exacerbated by Republicans and right-wing prosecutors. Bill and Hillary Clinton’s own missteps are portrayed as almost inconsequential, when they’re addressed at all. But the reality is quite different. The real common denominator of the Clinton scandals was the Clintons’ propensity to treat the truth as an inconvenience, and to grasp at anything that purports to prove their alleged innocence. By unraveling the threads of deception with which Clinton treats each scandal in My Life, we can come to grasp the former president’s pathology in a way that was not possible when he was in office. There, protected by spin-doctors, defense lawyers, speechwriters, image-makers, and detectives, we could only dimly grasp the man-and the woman-these scandals revealed. But now, denuded of protection, the angry, raw, ravings of an embattled former president and his uncensored, unedited, and uncorrected self-justifications reveal the truth about the couple that caused all these scandals.

             On the other side of the looking glass, of course, stands Saint Hillary alongside her man, as free as he of selfishness and mendacity, but, unlike him, incapable of error. Given the Clintons’ prickly relationship with the truth, it may not be surprising that the pages of My Life and Living History fail to match up in their accounts of the first lady’s accomplishments, or even her role in her husband’s administration. What is surprising is that in his memoirs Clinton generally mentions Hillary only when paired with Chelsea, accompanying him on one state voyage or another. Where, one wonders, are Mrs. Clinton’s great policy initiatives and proposals, which the New York senator trumpeted so loudly when she ran for office on her own?

             Much of the task of this book is not just to debunk Bill Clinton’s claims, but also to explore them more completely than he has. How did this man balance the budget, reduce the national debt, reform welfare, lower the child poverty rate, preside over a cut in crime, expand foreign trade, avert an era of global protectionism, rescue the Mexican currency, cut unemployment to historic lows, narrow the gap between the rich and the poor, and block the cuts envisioned by the Republican Contract with America? My Life, curiously, offers no clues. We find ourselves marveling that so many achievements could pile up with no human agency behind them. In My Life, legislation magically appears on the president ’s desk, awaiting only his signature. Good economic news comes rolling in without any accounting of how it came to be. Political opponents bite the dust with no explanation of the combat-or skulduggery-that laid them low.

             There is much more to the story. None of Clinton’s achievement was the product of virgin birth. Each emerged from a welter of maneuver, negotiation, compromise-often, indeed, from games of political chicken. As much as we need to hear the truth about Clinton’s failures, it ’s equally important that we understand how his successes really came about.

             Instead, My Life graphically demonstrates Bill Clinton’s characteristic inability to rise above the level of the mundane detail or to perceive the broad patterns of his own presidency. Events flow through its pages in a torrent of minutiae-an executive order here, a policy pronouncement there, and a new program elsewhere, with nary a moment wasted on context or theme. Pearls in search of a necklace, they glitter attractively as unrelated accomplishments, no more connected in the pages of My Life than they are in the folds of Bill Clinton’s mind. In Because He Could, we seek to put these initiatives in context, and show how they connect into paradigms and patterns.

             Clinton is a master at using his photographic memory to assimilate a massive amount of data and information. His formidable verbal skills and ubiquitous charm empower him to communicate with ease and insinuate his ideas into our psyche. But, like an hourglass, the funnel narrows between the massive accumulation of information above and the effortless-and endless-communication below. His capacity for input and voluble output are not matched by an ability to analyze and conceptualize. This narrow funnel between input and output often becomes sclerotic and clogged, by an overload of information awaiting analysis, inviting a paralysis that often gripped his presidency.

             Much of My Life concerns events beyond our shores, as the peripatetic first couple trotted the globe in search of problems to solve and photo opportunities to exploit. On the other side of his treasured looking glass Bill Clinton acts the global statesman, intently and determinedly focusing on international events even as his critics try to distract him with petty scandals. In real life, the president was so easily distracted, aloof, and removed from world events that he was only dragged into action when his back was to the wall.

             In many ways, as others have observed, the Clinton administration often suggested a kind of living embodiment of chaos theory, unleashed within the walls of the White House. Chaos theory postulates that what seem to be random, unconnected, chaotic events actually connect into an organizing principle, impossible to perceive as they unfold, but visible (with effort) in retrospect. Like the postmodern X and Y Generations, the Clinton administration took as its working paradigm that there was no paradigm. Each day was entirely new. There were no absolutes-certainly not when it came to truth-and no constants. In My Life, events, days, actions, appointments, policies, programs, and presidential schedules emerged randomly, rapidly, episodically, without ideology, plan, context, or even philosophy.

             And yet, as in chaos theory, patterns actually emerge from the whirlwind of directionless activity. Only in retrospect-as in reading between the lines of My Life-can we can study inductively what chaos has wrought.

             Clinton’s writing in My Life is certainly disordered. Organized only by chronology, the book jumps from one subject to another and back again with each new page. That itself offers the reader a taste of the inability to prioritize, organize, and systematize that plagued Clinton’s presidency. There are no discrete-subject chapters; nor does the reader have the pleasure of watching Clinton pursue any grand, recurring design-either political or narrative. Instead the president flits from issue to issue, guided only by the vagaries of his daily calendar. Echoing his verbal style, the Clintonian monologue of My Life seems never to end. Chapter after chapter covers a part, and only a part, of his story: his legislative achievements, his fitful attempts to cope with terrorist threats, his trips with Hillary and Chelsea, his parrying with the Whitewater investigation, his fury at Ken Starr, his campaign stops, his promotion of AIDS research, his balanced budget fight, and on and on and on.

             It is maddening. And yet it is vintage Clinton.

             Bill Clinton’s is no ordinary mind. On the positive side, it is an exceptional tool that permits him to think big, to innovate, to jumpstart ideas. But, on the negative side, it is capable of spinning such elaborate and convincing deceptions that it fools not only us but him, too. In My Life, it is painfully apparent that Bill Clinton has genuinely convinced himself of his complete innocence in every scandal that touched him and his administration. It ’s equally apparent that, in the process, he sold himself on his adversaries’ own guilt. In the relationship between those classic adversaries, Bill Clinton and Kenneth Starr, the defendant and the prosecutor have switched sides of the looking glass. In the mind of the former president it is Starr, not Clinton, who will be condemned by history.

             Somehow, of course, all of Clinton’s shortcomings-his failure to contextualize or analyze, his passivity and lack of initiative, his excess of caution, his self-righteous inability to feel guilt-combined to create a man who was one of the most successful modern presidents, a man whose accomplishments should be celebrated by history.

             Unlike Lyndon Johnson, George H. W. Bush, and Jimmy Carter, he was reelected. Unlike Richard Nixon, he survived his scandals. Unlike Harry Truman, Gerald Ford, and the post-Iran-Contra Ronald Reagan, he left office more popular than when he entered it.

             How did Bill Clinton do it? How did he function?

             And more fundamentally, why did he develop these lifelong habits? Why did he evolve these patterns of thinking? Why was he content to be so passive and reactive? Why did he access the world through the stories of strangers he met, the advice of his friends and staff, and the reactions forced upon him by events? Why?

             Because he could.

             In an interview on the eve of the publication of My Life, Dan Rather asked Bill Clinton why he got involved with Monica Lewinsky. “I think that I did something for the worst possible reason,” he said: “Just because I could.” It was an odd response: Clinton had had every reason to anticipate the question-even in Rather’s exceptionally softball interview-and prepare a better answer. It seems unlikely that Clinton was speaking impulsively, even though the line was certainly off-message, not in sync with the generally humble demeanor that Clinton was trying to project.

             And yet the line was classic Clinton: ambiguous, unclear, distracting, masochistic. In a split second, he shifted attention from his achievements to his failures. “Because He Could” became the screaming headline. What did he mean by it? Did it simply mean that an opportunity presented itself and he responded to it? Or was there more? He continued: “I think that ’s about the most morally indefensible reason anybody could have for doing anything. . . . When you do something just because you could.”

             My Life offers at least one clue as to what Clinton may have had in mind. Shortly after the 1996 election, he writes, Newt Gingrich told White House Chief of Staff Erskine Bowles that the House Republicans would proceed with impeachment despite Clinton’s resounding reelection and despite the opposition of moderate Republicans. When Bowles asked why they would do such a thing instead of choosing some less severe option, Gingrich responded: “Because we can.”

             Now, eight years later, the onetime most powerful man in the world was telling us that he got involved with Monica Lewinsky because he was in a position to do whatever he wanted, because no one could stop him. “Because I could”: It was the ultimate statement of unbridled power.

             What liberties can a president take in his personal life? Whom can he bed? Whom can he exploit? From the moment he took office as governor of Arkansas at the age of thirty-one, Bill Clinton lived a life of droit du seigneur-a king’s ancient right to do with his subjects what he will. When he ascended to the White House, he presumed that this fringe benefit would follow him . . . until Ken Starr made him pay the consequences.

             For a normal person, the thought “I could” represents a passing opportunity, a fortuitous circumstance, a moment ’s convenience. For Bill Clinton, “I could” was an entitlement of office, a way of life. That is what is truly morally indefensible about his conduct-and what is so revealing about his choice of words.

             In Because He Could, we’ll witness how-despite his best efforts-the words indeed reveal the man.

            The foregoing is excerpted from Because He Could  by Dick Morris and Eileen McGann. All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced without written permission from HarperCollins Publishers, 10 East 53rd Street, New York, NY 10022