This doesn't quite rise to the immediate level of Wall Street's activities looking like something straight out of "Independence Day," but a lot of very serious people are becoming very seriously worried, as you know, about Bill Clinton's role in the presidential campaign.
The reasons are varied, but taken on the whole, I think it's fair to say they largely represent the clash of long-term concerns and short-term interests; in the broadest terms, the personal versus the public good. There's also the internal matter of the party good -- which for most politicos reigns supreme -- but to date, the disgruntled have been mostly unwilling to fan the discordant flames out of fear they'll only blow things up.
What they have offered, so far, is what Richard Nixon would label as "candyass politics." They're pulling their punches, telegraphing rather than slamming.
Nevertheless the party's discord and disgruntlement have become a booming journalistic enterprise. In recent days, as just two examples, Dan Balz of the Washington Post and Jonathan Alter of Newsweek have funneled into the public arena the outlines of private worries.
"Sen. Edward Kennedy and Rep. Rahm Emanuel, both currently neutral in the Democratic contest," writes Alter, "have told their old friend heatedly on the phone that he needs to change his tone and stop attacking Sen. Barack Obama." Their official reasons: "There's concern that in hatcheting the Illinois senator and losing his temper with the news media ... Clinton is drawing down his political capital and harming his role as a global statesman."
Says Balz: "Bill Clinton's actions have caused consternation inside the party, even among those who are not publicly committed to either candidate. His 'fairy tale' remark about Obama's Iraq war position sparked a sharp reaction [from the African-American community] ... [and] his heated objections to a reporter's questions about the caucus rules in Las Vegas showed a petulant side of him that was highly unflattering."
A far more amusing characterization came from the Nation's Katrina vanden Heuvel last Sunday on "This Week," when she related that her friends are now saying that Bill is looking like an overheated Little League dad, always interfering in the game to protect his helpless charge. The often unstated resentment among feminists? Hillary doesn't need Bill's help. She's a big girl and can take care of herself -- yet she's allowing an altogether different picture to emerge.
Howard Wolfson, Mrs. Clinton's communications director, defends Bill's role matter-of-factly: "The Obama campaign has passionate supporters who make a strong case for his candidacy. We have passionate supporters, first and foremost [Bill Clinton], who makes a strong case for her candidacy," which is true. He then added, "Everything the president has said is factual," which is patently counterfactual.
But even that's as irrelevant as all the off-topic hand-wringing about Bill's increasingly "unflattering" image. I seriously doubt the previously quoted pols give a hoot about his legacy. Not right now, anyway. They just want to get through this presidential campaign victoriously, and that means with the party intact and unified. And so far Bill is doing his best to upset just that.
By inserting himself -- that is, by a former president and head of the party inserting himself -- in the nomination process, Bill Clinton is well on the road to accomplishing what many Democrats regarded as an impossible mission: a loss in 2008.
He has, of course, revved up "Clinton Fatigue" once again, but far more threatening is this: By converting his wife's candidacy into a protection of his legacy and ultimately what's referred to as the "Clinton Restoration Project," he is also converting what could have been an easily achievable, condemnatory referendum on George W. Bush's reign into a referendum on more distant, bygone days. That does not bode well in an election pumped for "change."
And that's precisely why former presidents have traditionally stayed the hell out of primaries. Their immensely influential interference stomps the evolutionary insurgencies that are vital to any party's vitality. Parties require fresh blood, fresh ideas and fresh leadership, otherwise they rot like compost.
In addition, party supporters resent 800-pound insider gorillas hand-picking their successors, which only perpetuates the stale and dynastic and leaves the primary-voting electorate feeling as though the game is rigged. As a former party head, a former president can disproportionately manipulate the party machine's power -- hence the contest is perceived by many among the assorted bases as The Machine vs. The People. And to these many, insurgencies such as Edwards and Obama's are then seen as having been doomed from the start. It turn, the many stay home.
In this week's debate Obama quipped, "I can't tell who I'm running against sometimes." See above, Mr. Obama. It ain't Hillary.
The machine is driving the wedge deeply. And its emotional effect could, in time, answer that quadrennial question so beloved by Democrats: How can we screw up this almost surefire victory?
But it would also seem that that answer is coming into focus for many of the non-aligned pols. Hence their "candyass politics" may soon come to an end. Then the real fireworks, as they say, shall ensue.