BENNETT'S GAMBLE ON VICE, VIRTUE

WILLIAM Bennett's "bad bet"-- a.k.a. Clinton's Revenge -- has the
schadenfreuders in near glossolalia while posing an interesting
problem for America's theocrats. Revelations that Bennett, who has
made a career of promoting virtue, has a million-dollar gambling habit
is nectar to the left, especially those who recall Bennett's
relentless condemnation of Bill Clinton's behavior in the White House.
What better expunger of those historically stained times than learning
that one of Clinton's public scolds, who served as Reagan's education
secretary and the elder Bush's drug policy director, was nursing a
near-pathological "vice" of his own.

The religious right, meanwhile, is faced with condemning one of its
most muscular water carriers -- or taking an uncharacteristic position
of nonjudgment. Does Bill Bennett's gambling habit compromise his
moral standing, or is he (unlike others so easily condemned) free to
indulge personal pleasures as he sees fit?

While one could argue that there's a clear difference between
Clinton's and Bennett's respective behaviors -- in addition to the
fact that Bennett smokes his cigars -- there's a broad sense that
Bennett is getting his deserved spin on the "gotcha" wheel.

Objectively, while he may have been enjoying a legal pastime, the
extent of his gambling reported in the millions seems like more than
the harmless release he initially claimed. Likewise, his attempts to
be discreet, gambling between midnight and 6 a.m., suggest that he may
have considered his avocation, if not a problem, at least something of
which he wasn't proud.

Whether gambling per se qualifies as a vice is for more virtuous
Americans to debate. As for the alleged social costs of other people's
vices, I remain skeptical. Whatever costs are incurred by people's
victimless pursuits are probably less than whatever bureaucratic
solutions we might create in trying to control human behavior. The
drug war, which Bennett supports, is a good example. We spend far more
fighting and prohibiting drugs, while criminalizing otherwise law-
abiding citizens, than it would cost to educate and treat the weak and
stupid.

Which is to say, I don't agree with everything Bennett, author of "The
Book of Virtues," supports, but I also don't disagree with much of
what he stands for. It's hard to argue against his position that we've
become morally flabby, personally irresponsible, and that we really
ought to try to do better. The fact that he gambles in his free time
with his own money, reports his winnings to the IRS and donates some
to charity, doesn't alter the truth of those observations.

Nor does his "vice" necessarily make him a hypocrite, as some chum
scavengers have suggested. Besides which, what's wrong with hypocrisy?
Those inclined to pray each day shouldn't fail to include thanks for
hypocrisy, which, let's face it, is the basis of civilization. We're
all hypocrites, thank goodness.

Hypocrisy, which poet and essayist Matthew Arnold defined as "the
tribute vice pays to virtue," is what gets children grown up and keeps
the rest of us relatively well-behaved and kempt. The trick of course
is to use hypocrisy to instruct rather than to self-justify.

In any case, we can ill afford to demand that people who speak
publicly in favor of moral behavior be morally perfect themselves. Not
only would we perish of boredom, but we'd so limit the field of
political candidates that we might as well skip the discussion and
insert our feeding tubes.

The ironic parable of Bennett's gambling, though perhaps embarrassing
to him, may have emerged at a propitious time, proffering a moral
truth all its own: As we have become morally flabby, we also have
become increasingly tyrannical in our pursuit of people's flaws.

Surely we don't want to be a nation of puritanical snoops who drive
good people away from public service. The higher virtue would be to
end this barbarism that "outs" people's private lives for public
vivisection and consumption. As Bennett-the-gambler has noted
correctly, we can and should do better