Missing the Vision Thing

What an anguished affair. Tuesday's State of the Union address, delivered by a beleaguered President Clinton, was measured, meticulous and utterly painful to experience.

Clinton played his cards close to his chest. "The economy, stupid" dominated the speech, as calls for greater international safety, more and smaller elementary school classrooms, better race relations and the guarantee of a college education for all Americans were tied to economic prosperity and fiscal well-being.

Discussing the need to support stability and combat "abusive child labor" (does that mean non-abusive child labor is OK?), criticizing the IRS for its abuses and talking at length about how to spend the still imaginary federal budget surplus, history-seeking Clinton seemed to echo the forgettable Calvin Coolidge's best known, ironic line, "The business of America is business." Perhaps ours is an era when economic success cannot help but be the barometer of American life.

Clinton's ideas were admirable, if not new; solidly popular, if not revolutionary. Yet, as I sat watching the speech at the Kennedy School's ARCO Forum, joining in the occasional nervous, almost jaded laughter and the rare applause from the crowd, I sensed there was something missing. It was what George Bush so ineloquently but accurately labeled "the vision thing."

The President, who a year ago campaigned on the promise of a bridge to the 21st century, who has spoken of Hope as a place both in Arkansas and in the national consciousness, was constrained by media intrigue and a year of personal and partisan scandal to a personality-less speech needling Congress on to small goals and smaller thinking. Clinton said we need to remember the big picture, but gave a speech that, from NATO to John Glenn, sounded more like a laundry list of minutiae.

Americans are accustomed--almost privileged--to a State of the Union address of catch-phrases and visionary statements, rich in imagery and possibilities. The State of the Union has traditionally provided the metaphoric candles by which the American public and Congress can light the upcoming year.

Tuesday's dry retelling of unmet policy goals marks a low point not only for Clinton but also for the American public, unsure who to trust in the web of contributions, allegations and investigations that entraps both Democrats and Republicans.

Those who listened and watched President Clinton at the ARCO Forum, remained, like many across the country, uninspired as they left to take up the mundane once again, asking each other about intersession, picking classes and buying textbooks. Their hope had flickered and, if for just a moment, died out.