Don't worry, Hillary. Al Gore feels your pain.
Over
the past few weeks, you may have noticed that Clinton has been
portrayed in the press less as a presidential candidate gearing up for
a potentially decisive primary in Pennsylvania and more like, well, Pinocchio. The spurt of prevarication started with "Snipergate,"
Clinton's debunked account of exactly how dangerous her 1996 landing in
war-torn Bosnia really was. Then came a flood of "gotcha" reports on
everything from Clinton's original support of NAFTA to her role in the Northern Ireland peace process; Clinton foe Dick Morris even revived a 2001 controversy over daughter Chelsea's Sept. 11 whereabouts.
Some
of these reality checks raised important questions about Clinton's
claims of foreign-policy expertise. Others (like Morris's rather
baseless Chelsea murmuring) did not. But because all of them
contributed to a suddenly salable Clinton "metanarrative"--the former
First Lady as "serial exaggerator"--they've received a ton of attention
on TV, in the papers and online. As Tom Rosenstiel, director of Project
for Excellence in Journalism, put it in 2001,
"journalists are looking for a story line, a narrative device, that
plays out over weeks and months." So even though Obama has stretched
the truth (as politicians are wont to do) regarding his parents' reasons for marrying and his role in filling out a "liberal" 1996 survey
(among other things), his slips didn't conform to the preferred "new
kind of candidate" metanarrative--and therefore went largely unnoticed.
Meanwhile, Clinton has spent the last month getting made over as the
new Gore, who was pilloried in 2000 for "inventing the Internet."
There's
only one problem: metanarratives tends to bulldoze nuance--and, in
effect, reality. "The problem is if [journalists] let the narrative
overwhelm the facts, then it
becomes a distorting lens," said Rosenstiel. "It can lead journalists
to ignore and
mischaracterize facts as they try to fit them into the story." That's
what happened back in 2000, for example; Gore, of course, never really claimed to have invented the Internet.
And it's what's happening right now with Clinton, whose latest
"gaffe"--the story, oft-repeated on the stump, of a young woman who
lost her baby and later died because she lacked health
insurance and did not have $100 to gain access to a nearby
hospital--isn't a gaffe at all. If, that is, you take the time to
examine it.
A
little background. For weeks, Clinton repeated the anecdote at campaign
appearances without naming the woman or the hospital. But on April 3,
the Washington Post identified the woman, Trina Bachtel, 35, of
Middleport,
Ohio, who died last August; soon, officials at
O'Bleness Memorial Hospital in Athens, Ohio, fearing their facility
would be falsely accused, told the New York Times that while Bachtel's
baby was indeed stillborn there, Bachtel was never refused
treatment and even had medical insurance. "We implore the
Clinton campaign to immediately desist from repeating this story," CEO
Rick
Castrop said. The press pounced--and Clinton's campaign said she would
slash the story from her speeches.
It
turns out that a few alterations would have been sufficient. For
starters, Clinton first heard the story from supporter Bryan Holman,
the Meigs County deputy sheriff, at a campaign stop in Pomeroy, Ohio on
Feb. 28. In a March 26 phone interview with The Associated Press,
"Holman said he had told Clinton the story in essentially the same way
she was retelling it in her speeches"; what's more, Holman never gave
Clinton Bachtel's name or the name of the hospital in question, making
it near-impossible for her staffers to identify either one after the
fact (they tried). This happens daily on the trail, and every
presidential candidate since Ronald Reagan has eagerly recounted such
tales. Secondly, while O'Bleness's account was, in fact, true, so was "Clinton's claim that Bachtel did not get care at another hospital
that wanted a $100 pre-payment before seeing her, according to the
young woman's aunt, Lisa Casto." From the Washington Post:
[Casto] said her niece had previously been in debt to a local hospital that
later sent her a letter informing her that she could only be treated
there in the future if she gave them a $100 deposit. At the time she
went into debt to that hospital, Casto said, Bachtel was uninsured,
though she later obtained health insurance and was insured at the time
of her death... Casto said her niece, who suffered from preeclampsia
during her pregnancy, did not seek care at the first hospital when
she fell ill because she knew she did not have the $100 out-of-pocket
she believed she would need to be seen. Instead, she went to O'Bleness
Memorial Hospital, where her baby was stillborn.
In
other words, Clinton's version was accurate in all but its
setting--which Holman didn't specify in the first place. Without
insurance, Bachtel went into debt to Hospital A, and delayed treatment
there because she didn't have the $100 that she thought she'd have to
fork over; when her condition worsened, Bachtel, now insured, finally
sought treatment at Hospital B. But by then it was too late. As the Associated Press's Charles Babbington puts it, "according to Casto's account, Bachtel's medical tragedy began with
circumstances very close to the essence of Clinton's now-abandoned
account: the lack of insurance created a $100 barrier to needed medical
attention close to home." It's true
that if Clinton staffers had gone to Herculean lengths to verify the
details of Holman's unspecific account, they might've discovered the
shift in setting. But to say that the Bachtel story represents "yet
another" Clinton exaggeration rather than a good-faith effort to relay
a real, illustrative story of health-care difficulties in
America--albeit with some details lost in translation--is in itself a
rather blatant exaggeration. Of course, that's the problem with these
metanarratives.
Just ask the Goracle.
UPDATE AFTER THE JUMP: An instructive exchange between MSNBC's Keith Olbermann and the Washington Post's
Dana Milbank...
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