7. Heroes and Villains of the Globalization Era: Scandal, Investigation, and the Impeachment of Bill Clinton

My Name is Kenneth Starr: From the Courtroom to the Investigation of a President

Much of my life was devoted to a proposition that sounds simple but is demanding in practice: the law must govern those who exercise power as surely as it governs everyone else.

From Texas to the Law

I was born in 1946 in Vernon, Texas, and grew up in a religious household that placed great importance on faith, education, and personal responsibility. I attended George Washington University, earned a master's degree at Brown University, and received my law degree from Duke University. My path soon brought me into the federal courts. I clerked for federal appellate judge David Dyer and later for Chief Justice Warren Burger of the United States Supreme Court. Those experiences impressed upon me the enormous responsibility carried by judges and lawyers. A courtroom was not supposed to be a place where political popularity determined the answer. Evidence, law, precedent, and constitutional principles were supposed to do that.

Serving the Government

My career eventually took me into the Department of Justice, where I served as counselor to Attorney General William French Smith. President Ronald Reagan appointed me to the United States Court of Appeals for the District of Columbia Circuit, and in 1989 I became Solicitor General of the United States under President George H. W. Bush. As Solicitor General, I represented the United States before the Supreme Court and argued twenty-five cases there. I had spent years thinking about constitutional limits, federal power, and the responsibilities of public officials. I could not have known how directly those questions would later enter my own life.

An Independent Counsel

In August 1994, a special three-judge panel appointed me Independent Counsel, succeeding Robert Fiske in an investigation involving President Bill Clinton and Hillary Clinton's Arkansas business dealings associated with Whitewater. My responsibility was not to determine whether I liked or disliked the president. An investigator's obligation is different: follow the evidence, determine what the law requires, and establish what can actually be proved. The investigation eventually expanded, with legal authorization, into other matters involving the Clinton administration, including the White House Travel Office and the handling of FBI background files.

The Investigation Takes an Unexpected Turn

Then came an issue that would transform the investigation and my public reputation. During Paula Jones's civil lawsuit against President Clinton, questions arose concerning the president's testimony about an inappropriate personal relationship with Monica Lewinsky, a former White House intern. For my office, the central issue was not simply the personal relationship. The legal questions concerned whether false statements had been made under oath and whether evidence or testimony had been improperly influenced. Those were serious allegations because the integrity of the judicial system depends upon truthful testimony and lawful conduct, regardless of a person's office.

The Starr Report

In September 1998, my office delivered a referral to the House of Representatives setting forth information that we believed might constitute grounds for impeachment. The referral identified eleven possible grounds involving allegations that included perjury and obstruction of justice. Congress—not my office—possessed the constitutional authority to decide what should happen next. The House eventually impeached President Clinton, and the Senate later acquitted him. He therefore remained president. Whatever Americans thought of me, President Clinton, or the investigation, those constitutional distinctions mattered. An investigator gathers evidence; the House decides whether to impeach; and the Senate determines whether an impeached president should be convicted and removed.

Criticism and Responsibility

I understood that our work was intensely controversial. Critics argued that the investigation had grown too broad, lasted too long, and intruded too deeply into private matters. Others believed that failing to investigate possible perjury or obstruction simply because the person involved was president would create a dangerous double standard. I believed our office had a responsibility to complete the work assigned to it. Yet the experience also caused me to question the structure of the Independent Counsel law itself. After the impeachment proceedings, I testified before Congress about constitutional and practical problems with that system, including the extraordinary independence given to an outside prosecutor.

Life After Washington

My life did not end with the Clinton investigation. I returned to law, teaching, writing, and university leadership, serving as dean of Pepperdine University's law school and later holding leadership positions at Baylor University. I continued speaking and writing about constitutional government, religious liberty, the Supreme Court, and the rule of law. Yet for millions of Americans, my name would forever remain connected with one of the most contentious investigations of a modern president.

Whitewater: The Investigation That Started It All (1992–1994) — Told by Ken Starr

Before Americans heard the names Monica Lewinsky or Paula Jones connected to a presidential investigation, there was Whitewater. It began with questions about an Arkansas real-estate investment and a failed savings and loan. At first glance, these matters seemed far removed from the White House. But investigations have a way of following evidence into places no one anticipated.

A Land Deal in Arkansas

The story began years before Bill Clinton became president. In 1978, Bill and Hillary Clinton joined James and Susan McDougal in purchasing land along Arkansas's White River. Together they created the Whitewater Development Corporation, hoping to sell vacation properties. The venture was not successful, and the Clintons said they lost money. That alone was no crime. The questions became more serious because James McDougal also controlled Madison Guaranty Savings & Loan, an Arkansas financial institution that later failed at considerable cost to the government.

Questions Surface During the 1992 Campaign

Whitewater entered national politics while Governor Clinton was running for president in 1992. News reporting drew attention to the Clintons' relationship with the McDougals and Madison Guaranty. Federal regulators were already examining suspected wrongdoing associated with Madison, and Resolution Trust Corporation investigators eventually made criminal referrals concerning activities surrounding the failed institution. Some referrals mentioned the Clintons as potential witnesses; that was not the same thing as accusing them of committing crimes. An investigator must understand that distinction. Suspicion begins an inquiry. Evidence determines where it goes.

From Political Controversy to Federal Investigation

By 1993, Whitewater was becoming increasingly difficult for the new administration to dismiss as merely an old Arkansas business matter. Questions arose about Madison Guaranty's finances, the McDougals, and whether money connected to the institution had been improperly used. Congress also became interested. Republicans demanded answers, while Clinton's defenders argued that opponents were turning a failed investment into a political scandal. The question for investigators was narrower: had federal laws been violated, and if so, by whom?

The President Calls for an Independent Investigation

By January 1994, the political pressure had become intense enough that President Clinton himself requested an independent investigation of Whitewater. Attorney General Janet Reno appointed former federal prosecutor Robert Fiske as special counsel. Fiske received jurisdiction over matters connected with Whitewater and Madison Guaranty. Suddenly, an unsuccessful real-estate investment from Arkansas was the subject of a formal federal investigation reaching into the affairs of a sitting president.

Congress Begins Asking Questions

The controversy continued to expand during 1994. Congressional hearings began that July, and lawmakers examined Whitewater, Madison Guaranty, and related questions. The proceedings demonstrated something students should remember when studying political scandals: a congressional investigation and a criminal investigation are not the same thing. Congress may investigate government conduct and expose information to the public. Prosecutors must determine whether evidence establishes violations of criminal law. Political accusations, however loudly repeated, do not become criminal convictions.

I Enter the Investigation

Congress reenacted the Independent Counsel law in June 1994, and Attorney General Reno asked the special federal court responsible for independent counsels to make an appointment under the restored statute. On August 5, 1994, that court selected me to replace Robert Fiske. I understood immediately that I was assuming an investigation surrounded by political suspicion. Some Democrats questioned my Republican background and criticized my appointment. Others believed a truly independent investigation was essential. My answer had to be the same answer any prosecutor should give: examine the documents, question the witnesses, follow the money, and determine what the evidence proves.

A Beginning No One Could Have Predicted

When I assumed responsibility for Whitewater in 1994, no one could have known where the investigation would eventually lead. Whitewater would produce convictions of several people associated with Arkansas financial dealings, although neither Bill nor Hillary Clinton was criminally charged in the Whitewater investigation. Years later, a separate development involving President Clinton's testimony in a civil lawsuit would send my office in an entirely different direction. But in 1994, that future remained invisible. Before impeachment, before the Starr Report, and before one of the greatest constitutional battles of the 1990s, there was a failed Arkansas land development called Whitewater—and a federal investigation charged with finding out what had actually happened.

My Name is Janet Reno: The Attorney General Who Insisted on Following the Facts

I spent my career believing that a prosecutor has one fundamental responsibility: find the facts, apply the law, and make the decision that the evidence requires. Politics, headlines, public pressure, and popularity may surround a case, but they cannot be permitted to decide it.

Growing Up in Florida

I was born in Miami, Florida, in 1938 and grew up near the Everglades in a family that encouraged independence and determination. I attended Cornell University, where I studied chemistry, and then entered Harvard Law School. There were still people who thought the legal profession was no place for a woman. I had little interest in allowing other people's expectations to determine my future. I graduated from Harvard Law School in 1963 and returned to Florida to begin practicing law.

Becoming a Prosecutor

My career eventually led me into public service. I worked with Florida legislative committees and became an assistant state attorney before Governor Reubin Askew appointed me State Attorney for Miami's Eleventh Judicial Circuit in 1978. I was the first woman to hold that position. The people reelected me five times. For approximately fifteen years, I confronted murder, drugs, corruption, juvenile crime, and the difficult question every prosecutor eventually encounters: not simply whether you can prosecute a case, but whether the evidence and the interests of justice say that you should.

America's First Woman Attorney General

In 1993, President Bill Clinton nominated me to become Attorney General of the United States. After Senate confirmation, I became the first woman in American history to lead the Department of Justice. I would serve until January 2001, making me the longest-serving Attorney General of the twentieth century. My responsibilities ranged from terrorism and organized crime to civil rights, antitrust enforcement, crime prevention, and some of the most politically explosive investigations in Washington.

Whitewater and an Independent Investigation

One of those matters involved Whitewater, the Arkansas real-estate controversy connected to President and Mrs. Clinton. In January 1994, I appointed Robert Fiske as a regulatory independent counsel to investigate Whitewater-related matters. Later that year, after Congress reenacted the Independent Counsel law, a special federal court replaced Fiske with Kenneth Starr. Starr's investigation would eventually expand far beyond the original real-estate questions. My responsibility was not to direct his conclusions. Independence meant independence, including when an investigation created enormous political consequences for the administration in which I served.

Campaign Money and Political Pressure

After the 1996 election, the Justice Department also investigated allegations concerning campaign financing, including questionable donations and fundraising activities connected to Democratic organizations and administration officials. Republicans and others repeatedly demanded that I seek another independent counsel. I refused to make that decision simply because Congress, the press, or either political party demanded it. When allegations were specific and credible, we investigated them. When the statutory requirements for an independent counsel were not satisfied, I said so. Our Campaign Financing Task Force ultimately examined more than a million pages of documents and conducted hundreds of interviews. My standard remained straightforward: facts and law, not politics, pressure, or polls.

Standing Between Politics and the Law

That position made few people completely happy. Some Republicans accused me of protecting the Clinton administration by refusing to appoint additional independent counsels. At other times, people inside the administration were unhappy because I did authorize independent investigations. That did not alter the responsibility of the Attorney General. The Justice Department cannot properly become the president's personal law firm, nor should it become an instrument of the president's political opponents. When evidence satisfied the legal requirements, I was prepared to act. When it did not, I was prepared to say no.

The Clinton Crisis

As Kenneth Starr's investigation moved toward the Monica Lewinsky controversy, sworn testimony, and possible obstruction of justice, I faced constant questions about his work. I generally refused to provide running commentary. An independent counsel could not be independent if the Attorney General publicly attempted to influence every development. Starr eventually sent his referral to Congress, the House impeached President Clinton, and the Senate acquitted him. Those decisions belonged to institutions given their own constitutional responsibilities—not to the Attorney General.

Travelgate and Filegate: Investigations Reach the White House — Told by Reno

When I became Attorney General in 1993, I understood that the Department of Justice would sometimes have to investigate matters involving the very administration in which I served. That is never comfortable. But comfort is not the standard. The standard is whether the facts justify investigation and what the law requires us to do.

Seven Employees Are Dismissed

In May 1993, only months after President Clinton entered office, the White House dismissed seven employees of its Travel Office, which arranged travel for the White House press corps. Administration officials said an outside accounting review had uncovered serious management and accounting problems. But almost immediately another question arose: had the employees really been dismissed because of financial concerns, or had political considerations and a desire to bring in Clinton associates influenced the decision? The controversy quickly acquired a Washington nickname—"Travelgate."

When the FBI Becomes Involved

The situation became more troubling when questions arose about contacts between White House officials and the FBI. The White House had asked the FBI to investigate possible financial wrongdoing in the Travel Office, but the FBI is part of the Department of Justice, and political officials must be extraordinarily careful about involving federal law enforcement in personnel or political disputes. A later White House review acknowledged mistakes, including inappropriate actions involving the FBI and conduct that created an appearance that favoritism might have influenced decisions. That did not by itself prove a criminal conspiracy, but it provided ample reason for scrutiny.

Billy Dale Goes to Trial

The former director of the Travel Office, Billy Dale, became the most visible of the dismissed employees. Federal prosecutors charged him with embezzlement and conversion involving Travel Office funds. In November 1995, a jury acquitted him. That distinction matters. An indictment means prosecutors have formally accused someone of a crime; it is not a conviction. Dale went into court accused and came out acquitted. Whatever political arguments surrounded Travelgate, the criminal justice system had rendered its verdict in his case.

Then Came the FBI Files

Just as Washington was still arguing over Travelgate, another controversy erupted in 1996. It became known as "Filegate." The White House had improperly obtained hundreds of FBI background files, many involving people associated with previous Republican administrations. The White House described the episode as the result of an outdated Secret Service list and mistakes in the personnel-security process. Critics suspected something more serious: that sensitive information might have been gathered for political purposes. Once again, suspicion and proof were two different things. Investigators had to determine why the files had been requested, who knew about it, and whether the information had been misused.

I Face a Conflict

Now I confronted a problem as Attorney General. How could my Department independently investigate an incident involving both the White House and the FBI, when the FBI itself was part of my Department? On June 20, 1996, I concluded that this presented a conflict of interest. Kenneth Starr informed me that his existing authority did not cover a full investigation of the FBI-files matter. I therefore asked the special court to expand his jurisdiction so that he could investigate it. Starr agreed to accept that responsibility if the court approved my request.

Investigation Is Not Conviction

Travelgate and Filegate became politically explosive because they involved the White House, federal investigators, confidential records, and accusations of misuse of power. But those words—accusation, investigation, indictment, acquittal, and conviction—cannot be used interchangeably. Investigating an allegation does not establish that the allegation is true. Refusing to investigate credible evidence merely because it is politically inconvenient is equally unacceptable. A prosecutor's task is neither to protect an administration nor to satisfy its opponents. It is to determine what happened and whether the evidence establishes a violation of law.

Money and Access: The 1996 Campaign-Finance Controversies — Told by Janet Reno and Kenneth Starr

By the end of the 1996 presidential election, Washington faced another set of uncomfortable questions. Huge amounts of money had flowed through America's political parties, allegations surfaced involving improper donations and foreign-linked contributors, and critics asked whether wealthy supporters had received special access to the White House. This time, Attorney General Janet Reno and I found ourselves looking at presidential controversy from very different positions.

The Money Begins Raising Questions

Janet Reno: I had been appointed Attorney General by President Clinton in 1993, and I served in his Cabinet. Nobody needed to remind me of that fact. When allegations arose concerning fundraising connected with the 1996 election, critics immediately questioned whether an Attorney General appointed by Clinton could investigate his administration impartially. But appointment by a president does not transform the Attorney General into that president's personal attorney. In late 1996, the Justice Department established a Campaign Financing Task Force to investigate possible criminal violations surrounding the election. By September 1997, I expanded it further, bringing in additional prosecutors and investigators.

Kenneth Starr: And those questions deserved serious examination. The controversy involved far more than ordinary Americans writing checks to candidates. Investigators and congressional committees examined Democratic National Committee fundraising, large “soft money” contributions, questionable donations, and money connected to individuals with foreign ties. Federal law prohibited foreign nationals from making certain election-related contributions. The central question was therefore not whether fundraising was aggressive—that was obvious in both parties—but whether particular transactions crossed the boundary established by law.

The Lincoln Bedroom and the Question of Access

Reno: Then there was the Lincoln Bedroom. President Clinton invited numerous supporters and other guests to stay overnight at the White House, and some were substantial Democratic donors. Republicans charged that the administration had effectively transformed access to the presidency into a fundraising tool. The Clinton White House rejected the claim that nights in the Lincoln Bedroom were literally being sold. That distinction mattered. A politically embarrassing practice is not automatically a criminal offense. Prosecutors needed evidence showing a violation of a specific law.

Starr: But appearances also mattered to the public's confidence in government. When large contributors receive unusual access to political leaders, citizens naturally ask whether they are purchasing influence rather than merely supporting candidates. Investigators must then ask harder questions. Was there an exchange? Was a government action promised? Was a contribution illegal? Those questions cannot be answered merely by pointing to a photograph of a donor standing beside a president.

Foreign-Linked Donations

Reno: Some allegations were considerably more serious. Investigators examined contributions involving figures such as John Huang, Charlie Trie, and others connected to Democratic fundraising, including questions about whether money had originated from impermissible foreign sources, such as China itself, or had been funneled through other donors. My Department could not assume every allegation was true, but neither could we dismiss them because they were politically dangerous. Our investigators followed leads across the United States and overseas. By December 1997, the task force had more than 120 members, had collected more than one million pages of documents, and had conducted hundreds of interviews.

Starr: That distinction is essential. “Foreign-linked” does not necessarily mean “illegal foreign contribution.” A lawful American donor can have foreign business connections. Investigators must establish where the money originated, who controlled it, and whether anyone knowingly violated federal law. Political language tends to collapse those distinctions. Criminal law cannot.

Was Janet Reno Too Loyal to Clinton?

Starr: Here we reached one of the most contentious questions. Janet had been selected by President Clinton and remained his Attorney General. Republicans argued that this created at least an appearance of conflict when her Department investigated Clinton and his political organization. FBI Director Louis Freeh reportedly recommended an independent counsel for aspects of the fundraising investigation. Some congressional Republicans made the same demand. Janet disagreed.

Reno: I did, because loyalty to the president who appointed me could not be the legal test. I had already sought independent counsels in other matters involving administration officials. When I believed the statute required one, I acted. When I did not believe its requirements had been met, I refused—even when Congress demanded otherwise. In December 1997, after preliminary investigations involving President Clinton and Vice President Al Gore, I declined to request independent counsels on those particular fundraising allegations. I said plainly that the decision was mine and was based upon the facts and the law, not political pressure. That decision did not end the broader campaign-finance investigation.

Starr: Janet, I do not question that the decision was legally yours to make, nor would I say that appointment by President Clinton proved that you were protecting him. But that was precisely why the Independent Counsel Act existed: there are circumstances in which the public cannot reasonably be asked simply to trust an administration to investigate itself. Your own FBI Director, Louis Freeh, examined the evidence and reached a different conclusion than you. He believed strongly that an independent counsel should investigate the campaign-finance matter, in part because of the potential conflict created when the Justice Department investigated the president who appointed its Attorney General. You had recognized that principle yourself in other matters—you asked that my jurisdiction be expanded when you concluded that the Department faced a conflict investigating the White House's acquisition of FBI files. So, I would ask a difficult question: if independence was necessary when the White House and FBI were involved in Filegate, why was independence not equally important when investigators were following allegations involving campaign money, White House officials, and potentially the president himself and the accusations of impropriety? The issue was not whether Janet Reno was an honorable prosecutor. The issue was whether any Attorney General should be placed in the position of making the final investigative decision about the president who appointed her.

Two Views of Independence

Starr: Janet and I therefore represented an important tension within American government. An Attorney General is appointed by the president but is expected to enforce federal law impartially. An independent counsel, by contrast, was deliberately placed outside the ordinary Justice Department chain of command when statutory requirements were met. My own investigation demonstrated both the potential strength and the controversy of that independence.

Reno: And independence alone does not guarantee correctness. Neither does appointment by a president prove loyalty has corrupted an investigation. Those propositions must themselves be tested against evidence. By the end of 1997, Americans had watched campaign money, White House access, foreign-linked donations, congressional investigations, FBI inquiries, and demands for another independent counsel collide. The lesson was larger than Bill Clinton or Janet Reno: in a government of laws, an allegation begins a question. Investigation searches for the answer. Only evidence can establish what actually happened.

Paula Jones and the Lawsuit That Changed the Presidency — Told by Ken Starr

While my office investigated Whitewater, another legal battle was moving through the courts—one that initially had nothing to do with me. Paula Jones, a former Arkansas state employee, had brought a civil lawsuit against President Bill Clinton. Few could have predicted that this private lawsuit would eventually help set in motion events leading to the impeachment of a president.

An Allegation from Arkansas

Jones's allegations concerned an encounter she said occurred on May 8, 1991, when Clinton was governor of Arkansas and she worked for the Arkansas Industrial Development Commission. She alleged that while attending a state conference at a Little Rock hotel, she was brought to a room where Governor Clinton made an unwanted sexual advance toward her. She also alleged that she later experienced unfavorable treatment at work. Clinton denied her central allegations. At this stage, these were accusations, not established facts, and that distinction must always be maintained.

Paula Jones Goes to Court

On May 6, 1994, Jones filed a federal lawsuit against President Clinton and former Arkansas state trooper Danny Ferguson. She sought damages under federal and Arkansas law. But Clinton was no longer governor—he was President of the United States. His attorneys therefore raised an extraordinary constitutional question: could a sitting president be required to defend a private civil lawsuit while carrying out the responsibilities of the presidency? Clinton's lawyers argued that litigation should be postponed until after he left office. Jones's lawyers argued that the president should remain accountable to the same legal system as other citizens.

A Case Reaches the Supreme Court

The dispute traveled through the federal courts until it reached the Supreme Court as Clinton v. Jones. The justices heard arguments on January 13, 1997. Clinton did possess broad immunity from civil damages arising from his official presidential acts, but Jones's allegations concerned conduct said to have occurred before he became president and unrelated to presidential duties. The question was whether the Constitution nevertheless required the lawsuit to wait.

A Unanimous Decision

On May 27, 1997, the Supreme Court delivered its answer. In a unanimous judgment, the Court rejected Clinton's argument that the Constitution required postponing the lawsuit until his presidency ended. The Court concluded that allowing litigation over unofficial conduct to proceed did not automatically violate the separation of powers. President Clinton could therefore be required to participate in the ordinary processes of a civil lawsuit while serving as president.

Why That Decision Mattered

For constitutional history, Clinton v. Jones established an important principle: holding the presidency did not automatically place a person beyond civil litigation concerning unofficial conduct that occurred before taking office. But the decision had another consequence that no Supreme Court justice could have fully predicted. Because Jones's lawsuit could proceed, her attorneys could conduct discovery—gathering documents, questioning witnesses, and eventually requiring President Clinton to answer questions under oath.

Two Investigations Moving Toward Each Other

At that moment in 1997, my independent counsel investigation and the Jones lawsuit remained separate legal matters. My office was investigating Whitewater and other authorized subjects. Jones's attorneys were pursuing her civil claims. But civil lawsuits can uncover information far beyond the original accusation because attorneys are permitted to seek relevant evidence concerning witnesses and patterns of conduct. Eventually, Jones's attorneys would ask questions about women associated with Clinton, including a former White House intern named Monica Lewinsky.

The Lawsuit That Changed Everything

The significance of the Jones case ultimately reached far beyond whether Paula Jones could recover damages. The Supreme Court's 1997 ruling allowed discovery to continue, which eventually produced sworn testimony from President Clinton. Questions concerning that testimony would become central to allegations of perjury and obstruction of justice investigated by my office in 1998.

Monica Lewinsky and the Question of Truth Under Oath — Told by Ken Starr

By January 1998, my investigation had already traveled a long road from the Whitewater land deal in Arkansas. Then information reached my office concerning Monica Lewinsky, a former White House intern, President Bill Clinton, and testimony connected to the Paula Jones lawsuit. The personal relationship would capture the nation's attention, but from an investigator's standpoint, a different question mattered most: had people attempted to give false testimony, influence witnesses, conceal evidence, or obstruct the judicial process?

A Former White House Intern

Lewinsky had begun working at the White House as an intern in 1995 and later became a paid employee before moving to the Pentagon. She and President Clinton developed an inappropriate personal relationship. For students studying this history, the intimate details are unnecessary. What matters is that the relationship later became relevant to Paula Jones's civil lawsuit because Jones's attorneys were seeking information about Clinton's relationships with other government employees.

A President and an Intern: The Question of Power

There was another issue Americans could not ignore: the enormous difference in power between President Clinton and Monica Lewinsky. She was a young White House intern when their relationship began, while Clinton was the President of the United States and the most powerful person in her workplace. A relationship between a supervisor and a subordinate is not automatically illegal simply because one person holds greater authority, and Lewinsky later maintained that her relationship with Clinton was consensual. But such relationships raise serious ethical and professional concerns because the more powerful person may influence assignments, advancement, access, recommendations, or a subordinate's future career. Federal law also prohibited workplace sexual harassment: unwanted sexual conduct could become unlawful when submission or rejection affected employment decisions or when sufficiently serious conduct created a hostile working environment. Thus, even apart from the later questions of perjury and obstruction, Clinton's relationship with a much younger subordinate raised an important question about responsibility: people entrusted with greater authority have a greater obligation to avoid using—or appearing to use—that authority in personal relationships.

Information Reaches My Office

On January 12, 1998, my office received information alleging that Lewinsky might provide false information in the Jones lawsuit and might have attempted to influence another potential witness. We were also told about her conversations with Clinton and presidential friend Vernon Jordan concerning her status as a possible witness and efforts to find her another job. Those were allegations, not conclusions. We gathered preliminary evidence and presented the matter to Attorney General Janet Reno. Reno concluded that further investigation was warranted and sought an expansion of my jurisdiction. On January 16, a special federal court authorized us to investigate whether Lewinsky or others had committed perjury, obstructed justice, intimidated witnesses, or otherwise violated federal law in connection with Jones v. Clinton.

The President Testifies Under Oath

The very next day, January 17, President Clinton gave a deposition in the Jones lawsuit. With federal judge Susan Webber Wright presiding, Jones's attorneys questioned him about Lewinsky. Clinton denied having a "sexual affair," "sexual relationship," or "sexual relations" with her under the definition being used in the deposition. He also testified about whether he had been alone with Lewinsky and about gifts exchanged between them. Because this was sworn testimony, the precise wording of both the questions and answers became enormously important.

The Story Explodes Into Public View

Within days, news of the allegations became public. On January 26, Clinton issued his famous categorical denial that he had had sexual relations with Lewinsky and had told anyone to lie. But public statements and sworn testimony are legally different things. A misleading political statement may carry serious political consequences, but perjury requires a knowingly false material statement under oath. My office therefore had to concentrate on evidence rather than the enormous public spectacle developing around us.

What Did Monica Lewinsky Say?

Lewinsky eventually cooperated with investigators under an immunity agreement and testified before the grand jury. Her account contradicted important parts of Clinton's earlier descriptions of their relationship. But her testimony also complicated some accusations against him. For example, she stated that Clinton never explicitly instructed her to lie. Our position was that investigators nevertheless had to examine the entire course of conduct and determine whether there had been an understanding to conceal the relationship or efforts to interfere with evidence. Clinton's defenders strongly disputed that interpretation.

Clinton Changes His Public Account

On August 17, 1998, President Clinton testified before a federal grand jury. That evening, he addressed the nation and acknowledged that he had maintained a relationship with Lewinsky that was "not appropriate." He continued to dispute that his earlier deposition answers constituted perjury, relying in part on the specific definition of "sexual relations" used during the Jones deposition. That distinction became one of the central legal disputes of the entire controversy: prosecutors argued that Clinton had given false sworn testimony, while his attorneys argued that his answers had to be evaluated according to the precise language and definitions presented to him.

The Question Becomes Larger Than the Relationship

By the end of that summer, this was no longer simply a story about inappropriate personal behavior. My investigation was examining allegations of perjury and obstruction of justice, including questions involving testimony, witnesses, gifts, and other evidence. Clinton's defenders argued that my office was transforming a private matter into a constitutional crisis; we believed serious questions about the integrity of the judicial process required investigation.

Starr Report: From Investigation to Possible Impeachment - Told by Kenneth Starr

On September 9, 1998, my office delivered to the House of Representatives the results of an investigation that had placed a president's conduct before Congress. Americans would soon call it the "Starr Report." But it was not an impeachment verdict, and I possessed no authority to remove President Bill Clinton from office. Our task was narrower: determine whether we had obtained substantial and credible information that might constitute grounds for impeachment and, if so, transmit that information to Congress.

From a Private Relationship to Legal Questions

The investigation concerned President Clinton's responses to questions about his inappropriate relationship with Monica Lewinsky. The relationship itself was not the central reason for our referral. Our investigation focused on what happened once that relationship became relevant to Paula Jones's civil lawsuit and later to the federal investigation. Had the president testified falsely under oath? Had evidence been concealed? Had witnesses been influenced? Had the judicial process been obstructed? Clinton and his attorneys strongly disputed our legal conclusions, particularly our interpretation of his testimony.

Eleven Possible Grounds

Our referral identified eleven possible grounds for impeachment. They fell principally into three categories: allegations of lying under oath, obstruction of justice, and abuse of presidential power. We alleged, among other things, that Clinton had given false testimony during the Jones deposition and before the federal grand jury and had participated in efforts to conceal evidence concerning his relationship with Lewinsky. These were our office's allegations and conclusions—not criminal convictions and not yet findings by Congress. That distinction was essential.

The Evidence Behind the Referral

We did not simply send Congress accusations. The referral was accompanied by extensive supporting material gathered during the investigation. It included testimony, documents, records, and other evidence that we believed Congress needed to evaluate our conclusions. Some of the material dealt with extremely personal subjects, and its inclusion became one of the most controversial aspects of the report. Critics believed my office had included unnecessary and humiliating details. We believed Congress required a sufficiently complete factual record to evaluate credibility and determine whether the president's sworn statements were truthful.

The Report Becomes Public

The boxes arrived at the Capitol under extraordinary security. On September 11, the House voted 363–63 to send the referral to the Judiciary Committee and make a substantial portion of it public. Suddenly, Americans could examine much of the evidence themselves. The Internet, still relatively new to millions of households, allowed people to obtain the report almost immediately. What had been investigated behind closed grand-jury doors became one of the most intensely examined political documents of the decade.

Clinton's Defense Pushes Back

President Clinton's attorneys rejected our conclusions. They argued that his conduct toward Lewinsky had been wrong but that the evidence did not establish the criminal offenses we alleged and did not amount to the constitutional standard of "high Crimes and Misdemeanors." They challenged our interpretations of Clinton's words, disputed allegations of obstruction, and argued that impeachment would dangerously expand the constitutional remedy into matters involving private conduct. Congress therefore faced competing arguments—not simply a prosecutor's report that automatically determined the outcome.

What My Office Could Not Decide

This distinction is perhaps the most important part of the story. An independent counsel could investigate and refer information to Congress, but I could not impeach the president. The Constitution gives that authority to the House of Representatives. Nor could the House itself remove him simply by impeaching him; conviction and removal would require a Senate trial and a two-thirds vote of senators present. Our referral therefore represented the beginning of a constitutional decision, not its conclusion.

From Investigation to Impeachment Debate

On October 8, the House authorized the Judiciary Committee to conduct an impeachment inquiry. The country was now entering territory it had visited only rarely in its history. Americans argued over Clinton's behavior, my investigation, the meaning of perjury and obstruction, and whether alleged misconduct connected to a private civil lawsuit could justify removing an elected president. My office had presented its evidence and conclusions. The next question belonged to Congress, and ultimately to the Constitution itself: even if presidential misconduct had occurred, when does that misconduct become an impeachable offense?

My Name is William H. Rehnquist: Chief Justice of the United States

For more than three decades I served on the Supreme Court of the United States, first as an Associate Justice and then as Chief Justice. I believed that judges occupied an important but limited position in our constitutional system. The Constitution divided power among institutions for a reason. A judge's responsibility was not to decide what government ought to do, but to determine what the Constitution and laws permitted it to do.

War, Education, and the Law

I was born in Milwaukee, Wisconsin, in 1924 and grew up in nearby Shorewood. During World War II, I served in the Army Air Corps from 1943 until 1946. After the war, I attended Stanford University, continued my education at Harvard, and then returned to Stanford for law school. I enjoyed history, government, and the careful construction of legal arguments. After graduating in 1952, I received an extraordinary opportunity: I became a law clerk to Supreme Court Justice Robert H. Jackson. I was seeing constitutional law practiced at the highest level in the nation.

From Arizona to Washington

After my clerkship, I moved to Phoenix, Arizona, where I practiced law for sixteen years. In 1969, I went to Washington after President Richard Nixon's administration appointed me Assistant Attorney General for the Office of Legal Counsel. That office confronted difficult questions concerning presidential authority and the Constitution. Then, in 1971, President Nixon nominated me to the Supreme Court. The Senate confirmed me, and on January 7, 1972, I took my oath as an Associate Justice.

A Justice Willing to Stand Alone

I did not believe that disagreement was something a judge should fear. During my early years on the Court, I sometimes found myself alone in dissent. My opinions generally emphasized federalism, the powers reserved to the states, limits on federal authority, and judicial restraint. The Constitution created three branches of the federal government, but it also created a federal system in which states retained substantial authority. Courts, in my judgment, had to respect those boundaries even when doing so produced results that were unpopular.

Becoming Chief Justice

In 1986, President Ronald Reagan nominated me to succeed Warren Burger as Chief Justice of the United States. The Senate confirmed me, and I took the oath on September 26. I now had responsibilities extending beyond deciding cases. The Chief Justice also had important administrative responsibilities for the federal judiciary. Yet inside the courtroom, I remained one member of a nine-member Court. The title "Chief Justice" did not give me nine votes. Persuasion, legal reasoning, and the ability to assemble agreement still mattered.

The Constitution and Impeachment

Long before Bill Clinton's impeachment, I had studied impeachment closely. I wrote about the impeachment trials of Justice Samuel Chase and President Andrew Johnson because they revealed something important about our constitutional structure: impeachment is an extraordinary remedy entrusted primarily to Congress. In a 1993 Supreme Court decision involving impeached federal judge Walter Nixon, I wrote for a unanimous Court that the Constitution placed the power to try impeachments in the Senate. The judiciary could not simply take that constitutional responsibility away from another branch because judges might have handled the proceeding differently.

That principle became remarkably personal in January 1999. President Bill Clinton had been impeached by the House of Representatives on charges of perjury before a grand jury and obstruction of justice. Under the Constitution, when the president is tried by the Senate, the Chief Justice presides. I therefore left the familiar surroundings of the Supreme Court and crossed Capitol Hill to preside over only the second presidential impeachment trial in American history. My responsibility was not to determine Clinton's guilt or innocence. That responsibility belonged to the senators. My task was to preside fairly, rule when necessary, and protect the dignity of the constitutional proceeding.

What Is an Impeachable Offense? The Constitutional Battle — Told by Rehnquist

By the autumn of 1998, Washington was arguing about something much larger than President Bill Clinton's inappropriate relationship with Monica Lewinsky. Kenneth Starr had delivered his referral to Congress, alleging conduct that included perjury and obstruction of justice. Now the country faced a constitutional question the Supreme Court could not simply answer for Congress: what exactly did the Framers mean when they wrote that a president could be impeached for "Treason, Bribery, or other high Crimes and Misdemeanors"?

Four Words with Enormous Consequences

The phrase "high Crimes and Misdemeanors" can be confusing to modern readers. It does not simply mean that every violation of criminal law automatically warrants impeachment. Historically, impeachment concerned serious misconduct by public officials, particularly abuses of public trust and authority. Nor does the Constitution require Congress to find a violation carrying the particular label of a statutory crime before impeachment can occur. The difficult task is determining when misconduct becomes serious enough to threaten the public trust and justify invoking this extraordinary constitutional remedy.

The Framers Feared Two Dangers

The Framers faced dangers on both sides. A president needed sufficient independence to resist Congress; otherwise, legislators could effectively remove presidents whenever political disagreements became intense. But an independent president could also misuse the enormous powers of the office. Impeachment was therefore designed as a safeguard against grave misconduct, while its demanding structure helped prevent Congress from turning the presidency into an office held merely at the legislature's pleasure.

Clinton Presents a Difficult Question

President Clinton's case forced Congress into the uncertain territory between those principles. Starr alleged that Clinton had lied under oath and obstructed justice in matters connected to the Paula Jones lawsuit and the subsequent investigation. Supporters of impeachment argued that perjury and obstruction were serious attacks upon the judicial system and that a president, constitutionally charged with faithfully executing the laws, could not be permitted to place himself above them. Clinton denied committing perjury or obstruction, and his defenders argued that even the conduct alleged by Starr did not meet the Constitution's demanding standard for removing a president.

Private Misconduct or Public Offense?

Here lay one of the great arguments of 1998. Clinton's defenders emphasized that the controversy originated in his effort to conceal an inappropriate personal relationship rather than an attempt to corrupt an election, accept a bribe, betray the nation, or misuse presidential policy-making powers. Supporters of impeachment answered that once a president allegedly gave false sworn testimony or obstructed a legal proceeding, the matter could no longer be dismissed as merely private behavior. Thus, lawmakers could agree that Clinton's personal conduct was wrong while sharply disagreeing over whether the alleged legal misconduct constituted an impeachable offense.

A Crime Is Not Automatically an Impeachable Offense

Students should understand another distinction. Criminal prosecution and impeachment serve different purposes. The criminal courts determine criminal liability and can impose criminal punishment. Impeachment protects the constitutional system by allowing Congress to remove certain federal officers for sufficiently serious misconduct. Consequently, the argument could not end merely by asking, "Did the president commit a crime?" Congress also had to confront the constitutional question: assuming particular misconduct could be established, was it the kind and degree of misconduct for which impeachment was intended?

On October 8, 1998, the House voted 258–176 to authorize the Judiciary Committee to investigate whether sufficient grounds existed to impeach President Clinton. That decision did not mean Clinton had been found guilty or even that he would necessarily be impeached. It opened the formal inquiry. The House would examine Starr's evidence, hear competing constitutional arguments, and determine whether articles of impeachment should advance. The Constitution deliberately placed that responsibility in the legislative branch.

The House Impeaches President Clinton (December 1998) — Told by Rehnquist

On December 19, 1998, the House of Representatives exercised one of the gravest powers entrusted to it by the Constitution. For only the second time in American history, the House impeached a sitting president. Bill Clinton was now formally accused of high crimes and misdemeanors—but he had not been removed from office, convicted of those charges, or forced to surrender the presidency. The constitutional process was only halfway complete.

Four Articles Reach the House

The House Judiciary Committee had recommended four articles of impeachment. The first alleged that Clinton committed perjury while testifying before a federal grand jury about his relationship with Monica Lewinsky and related matters. The second concerned alleged perjury during his deposition in the Paula Jones civil case. The third alleged obstruction of justice, including efforts connected to evidence and testimony in the Jones case. The fourth accused Clinton of abusing presidential power in his responses to Congress. The full House now had to decide separately whether each accusation justified impeachment.

Two Competing Constitutional Arguments

The debate was fierce because representatives disagreed not only about Clinton's conduct, but about the Constitution itself. Supporters of impeachment argued that a president who intentionally lied under oath or obstructed justice attacked the rule of law he had sworn to uphold. Opponents argued that Clinton's behavior deserved condemnation but that impeachment and possible removal were intended for offenses posing a grave threat to constitutional government. Some favored censure rather than impeachment. The disagreement was therefore not simply over whether Clinton had behaved improperly; it was over what constitutional consequence his alleged misconduct deserved.

The House Begins Voting

Then came the votes. Article I, alleging perjury before the federal grand jury, passed 228–206. Article II, alleging perjury in the Paula Jones deposition, failed 205–229. Article III, alleging obstruction of justice, passed 221–212. Article IV, alleging abuse of power, failed 148–285. The House had considered four accusations and approved two. President Clinton was therefore impeached for the conduct alleged in Articles I and III.

What Impeachment Actually Means

This is where constitutional language becomes particularly important. To say that President Clinton was "impeached" does not mean that the House removed him from office. The Constitution gives the House the "sole Power of Impeachment." In effect, impeachment constitutes the bringing of formal constitutional charges. The Senate possesses the separate "sole Power to try all Impeachments." Thus, on December 19, Clinton remained President of the United States with all the powers of his office. His presidency could end through impeachment only if the Senate subsequently convicted him by the constitutionally required two-thirds vote.

A Deeply Divided House

The voting also revealed how politically divided the country and Congress had become. Republicans held the House majority, and the votes were largely divided along party lines, although several members crossed party lines on particular articles. Republicans supporting impeachment argued that permitting alleged perjury and obstruction by a president to go unanswered would establish a dangerous precedent. Democrats and other opponents argued that impeachment itself could establish a dangerous precedent if Congress used it to address misconduct insufficiently connected to abuse of presidential office. Those were competing constitutional judgments, and the House had now made its decision.

The President Responds

Clinton did not resign. After the House votes, he publicly expressed regret for his conduct while declaring that he intended to remain in office and continue his presidential duties. His defenders continued to dispute that the evidence established the offenses alleged or that the conduct justified removal. His opponents answered that the House had fulfilled its constitutional responsibility by formally charging him. Neither side, however, controlled what came next. The Constitution transferred the proceeding to another institution.

The Case Comes to the Senate

The House appointed thirteen representatives, led by Judiciary Committee Chairman Henry Hyde, to serve as impeachment managers and present its case. The Senate would become the court of impeachment, with every senator required to take a special oath for the proceeding. And because the defendant was the President of the United States, the Constitution required one additional participant: "When the President of the United States is tried, the Chief Justice shall preside." That meant me.

The events of December 19 demonstrated the deliberate structure the Framers created. The House could accuse, but it could not convict. The Senate could try the charges, but conviction required a two-thirds vote of the senators present. The Chief Justice could preside, but he could not determine the verdict himself. Bill Clinton had become only the second American president ever impeached by the House, following Andrew Johnson in 1868. Yet he remained president. The next constitutional question was now unavoidable: would the Senate conclude that the House's charges justified the extraordinary act of removing an elected president from office?

My Name is Dale Bumpers: Small-Town Lawyer Who Returned to Defend Clinton

Before I ever stood in the United States Senate defending a president, I was a small-town Arkansas lawyer who learned that a good argument requires more than a loud voice. You have to know the facts, understand the law, and, above all, know exactly what question you are asking the jury to decide.

Growing Up in Arkansas

I was born in Charleston, Arkansas, in 1925, during years when nobody I knew had much money to waste. As a boy, I picked cotton and peas, delivered newspapers, worked in a cannery, and helped with my family's businesses. During World War II, I served in the United States Marine Corps. Afterward, I attended the University of Arkansas and Northwestern University School of Law. Then I returned home with my wife, Betty, determined to build a life in the community that had raised me.

The Best Lawyer in a One-Lawyer Town

Charleston was not Washington, and I was certainly no famous attorney. I practiced law, raised cattle, helped operate a hardware and furniture business, and served as city attorney. I learned law the way many country lawyers did: by sitting across from ordinary people whose problems were anything but ordinary to them. In a courtroom, I learned to strip an argument down to its essentials. What happened? What can you prove? What does the law say? And does the punishment fit what was actually done?

An Unexpected Governor

In 1970, I ran for governor of Arkansas. Most political experts did not expect much from me. I first had to defeat former governor Orval Faubus for the Democratic nomination and then Republican governor Winthrop Rockefeller. The voters surprised the experts and elected me. As governor, I pushed government reorganization, education improvements, expanded social services, and other reforms. Four years later, I challenged one of America's most respected senators, J. William Fulbright. Once again, people told me what a difficult race I had chosen. Once again, Arkansas voters sent me forward.

Twenty-Four Years in the Senate

I entered the United States Senate in 1975 and remained there for twenty-four years. I became known for speeches, sometimes with a little Arkansas humor thrown in because senators, like juries, tend to listen better when they are awake. But there were serious battles beneath the humor. I questioned excessive government spending, challenged expensive weapons programs, supported childhood immunization efforts, defended environmental protections, and occasionally cast votes I knew would anger voters back home. I believed public office was not worth much if keeping it became more important than exercising judgment.

I Thought I Was Finished

I retired from the Senate in January 1999. After twenty-four years, I thought my speeches in that chamber were over. Then President Bill Clinton was standing trial there after the House impeached him for perjury before a grand jury and obstruction of justice. Clinton asked me to join his defense. I was reluctant. I had just left the Senate, Clinton was a fellow Arkansas Democrat, and I knew precisely how that would look. But eventually I agreed to return—not as a senator casting a vote, but as an advocate making an argument.

Defending President Clinton

I did not go before the Senate to tell anyone that Bill Clinton's behavior with Monica Lewinsky was admirable. I said essentially the opposite. I described his conduct as a terrible moral lapse. But a defense attorney must force the jury back to the question the law actually asks. The Constitution did not ask senators whether they approved of Clinton personally. Their duty was to decide whether the charges justified the extraordinary constitutional act of convicting and removing an elected president. I argued that they did not. Impeachment could not simply become a weapon for punishing every serious personal failing of a president.

On January 21, 1999, I stood before men and women with whom I had served only weeks earlier. I reminded them that Clinton would eventually leave office, but the precedent they created could remain long after all of us were gone. The Senate subsequently acquitted Clinton on both articles, and he remained president. That verdict belonged to the senators, not to me. My responsibility had been the same responsibility I had carried into courtrooms years earlier in Charleston: take the evidence, take the law, and make the strongest case I could.

The Senate Trial: Should a President Be Removed? (January–February 1999) — Told by Dale Bumpers

I had barely retired after twenty-four years in the United States Senate when Bill Clinton asked me to come back. This time I would not sit at a senator's desk. I would stand before my former colleagues as one of the president's defenders while they considered whether to convict and remove him from office. I knew Clinton had behaved badly. I was not going there to defend adultery or excuse dishonesty. I was going there to argue a much narrower question: did the charges brought by the House justify removing an elected President of the United States?

The Senate Becomes a Court

The trial formally began in January 1999. Chief Justice William Rehnquist presided, the House impeachment managers served as prosecutors, Clinton's attorneys presented his defense, and the senators took an oath to administer impartial justice. Two articles were before them: one alleging perjury before a federal grand jury and another alleging obstruction of justice. Conviction on either required two-thirds of the senators present. The House had accused the president; now the Senate alone possessed the constitutional authority to determine whether those accusations justified conviction and removal.

The House Managers Make Their Case

The House managers argued that this was fundamentally about the rule of law. They maintained that Clinton had given false testimony under oath concerning Monica Lewinsky and had engaged in conduct intended to obstruct the Paula Jones lawsuit. Their argument was powerful in its simplicity: if ordinary Americans must tell the truth under oath, why should the president be treated differently? They argued that allowing a president to commit perjury or obstruct justice without the constitutional consequence of removal would itself damage respect for law.

I Return to My Old Chamber

Then came the defense. President Clinton's lawyers disputed that the evidence proved the charges and argued that the alleged conduct did not satisfy the constitutional standard for removal. I joined them reluctantly. On January 21, I stood in the Senate chamber and looked into the faces of people with whom I had served only weeks before. I began with a little humor—the sort of thing an Arkansas trial lawyer does before asking a jury to consider something terribly serious. Then I told them why I had returned: the decision they were about to make could establish a precedent long after Bill Clinton was gone. Contemporary accounts recorded that I urged senators to consider the weight of history rather than their personal feelings toward the president.

Wrongdoing and Removal Are Different Questions

I did not ask the senators to admire Clinton's behavior. I called what brought us there a terrible moral lapse. But condemnation and constitutional removal were not necessarily the same thing. The Constitution does not give the Senate the general power to remove presidents whenever senators believe they have behaved disgracefully. My argument was that the conduct charged by the House, even if condemned, did not amount to the kind of offense against constitutional government that justified overturning the result of a presidential election. The House managers strongly disagreed: they argued that alleged perjury and obstruction by the nation's chief executive struck directly at the rule of law.

The Evidence Is Tested

The trial continued beyond the opening arguments. Senators submitted written questions to both sides, and the Senate authorized depositions from Monica Lewinsky, presidential friend Vernon Jordan, and White House aide Sidney Blumenthal. Portions of those videotaped depositions were later presented to the Senate. Senators therefore had before them the House's charges, Starr investigation materials, arguments from both sides, testimony, and their own understanding of the Constitution. This was not supposed to be a popularity contest. Each senator had sworn to render impartial justice.

The Moment of Judgment

On February 12, 1999, the Senate voted. On the first article, alleging grand-jury perjury, 45 senators voted guilty and 55 not guilty. On the second, alleging obstruction of justice, the Senate divided exactly 50–50. Neither came close to the constitutionally required two-thirds majority for conviction. President Clinton was therefore acquitted on both articles and remained in office. The verdict did not declare that every statement he had made was proper or that his personal conduct deserved approval. It answered the specific constitutional question before the Senate: the necessary votes to convict and remove him were not there.

A President Can Still Face the Law

There was another point I wanted Americans to understand. Acquittal in an impeachment trial does not create permanent immunity from ordinary law. Impeachment exists primarily to protect constitutional government; it is not simply another criminal trial. Senators who opposed removal could still believe Clinton deserved censure or that potential criminal liability should be handled through the ordinary legal system after the presidency. Indeed, senators discussing their votes explicitly distinguished constitutional removal from other possible consequences.

After Impeachment: Pardons, the Media, and the Legacy — Told by Dale Bumpers

When the Senate acquitted Bill Clinton in February 1999, the constitutional trial was finished, but the controversy certainly was not. I had argued against removing him from office, not because I approved of everything he had done, but because I believed removal was the wrong constitutional remedy. Clinton still had nearly two years left as president, and those years would remind Americans of something important: acquittal by the Senate does not erase misconduct, silence political criticism, or prevent other legal consequences.

Acquittal Did Not Mean Exoneration

The Senate had answered one specific question: should Clinton be convicted on the House's two articles of impeachment and removed from office? The necessary two-thirds vote was not there. But senators who voted to acquit could still condemn his behavior, and Clinton continued to face consequences outside the impeachment process. In April 1999, federal judge Susan Webber Wright held Clinton in civil contempt for intentionally false testimony in the Paula Jones case. Clinton later agreed to a five-year suspension of his Arkansas law license and paid a $25,000 fine as part of an agreement that ended the independent counsel's investigation without a criminal indictment. The constitutional trial was over, but accountability did not have only one form.

The Media Had Its Own Reckoning

There was another institution Americans were judging: the news media. Cable television, newspapers, magazines, talk shows, and the rapidly expanding Internet had turned the Clinton scandal into nearly continuous national news. Some reporting uncovered important facts. Other coverage moved faster than the evidence. A contemporary study of the first days of the Lewinsky story found that 41 percent of the statements examined were analysis, opinion, speculation, or judgment rather than straightforward factual reporting, while later research found that reporting generally became more factual as evidence accumulated. Americans therefore witnessed both the value and the danger of an aggressive press: journalists could expose information powerful people preferred to keep hidden, but competition to break the next story could also allow speculation to race ahead of established facts.

The Internet Changes Political Scandal

Something else had changed since Watergate. Americans no longer depended entirely upon tomorrow morning's newspaper or the evening television news. The Internet could distribute documents and allegations almost instantly. When the Starr Report became public in 1998, millions could obtain information about it electronically; a Pew survey found that 11 percent of adults surveyed said they had gone online to read or hear at least part of the report. Political scandal had entered the digital age. Future presidents would live in a world where accusations, evidence, rumors, and commentary could circle the country before government officials had finished responding.

One Last Controversy: Presidential Pardons

Then, just as Clinton was preparing to leave office, controversy erupted again. Presidents possess broad constitutional authority to grant pardons for federal offenses, and Clinton exercised that power extensively during his final hours in office on January 20, 2001. The most controversial recipient was financier Marc Rich, who had fled the United States after being indicted in 1983 on federal charges and had never stood trial on those charges. Clinton pardoned him. The pardon immediately generated questions about how Rich's case had reached the president and about political donations made by Rich's former wife, Denise Rich. The existence of those donations raised questions and fueled investigations, but it did not by itself establish that Clinton had sold the pardon. The distinction between suspicion and proof remained as important at the end of his presidency as it had been during impeachment.

A Constitutional Power Can Still Be Controversial

The pardon controversy demonstrated another lesson about presidential power. A president can possess the constitutional authority to do something and still face intense criticism for doing it. The Constitution gives presidents broad pardon authority for federal offenses, but political legitimacy and constitutional legality are not identical questions. Congress could investigate how a pardon was obtained, journalists could examine connections surrounding it, and citizens could decide whether they approved. That is part of accountability in a republic: not every controversial exercise of power is necessarily illegal, and not everything that is legal is therefore beyond criticism.

What Did America Learn?

After years of Whitewater, Travelgate, Filegate, campaign-finance investigations, Paula Jones, Monica Lewinsky, Kenneth Starr, impeachment, a Senate trial, and finally the pardon controversy, Americans had heard enough accusations to fill a courthouse. But history demands more discipline than politics sometimes does. An allegation is not an investigation. An investigation is not an indictment. An indictment is not a conviction. An impeachment is not a criminal conviction, and impeachment itself is not removal from office. Those distinctions may sound technical until someone's reputation, liberty, or presidency depends upon them.