As writing, Hillary Clinton’s 2003 book, Living History, is not entirely worth the read; as an illustration largely of single-minded ambition and ethical tone-deafness, it is.

Regrettably, although this book was published in 2003, it does not illuminate any of Clinton’s Senate years: the book concludes with her Senate campaign in 2000. Thus it omits Enron, 9/11, the assault on Afghanistan, the administration push to war in Iraq, indefinite detentions, the failed (?) pursuit of Osama bin Laden—he of recent Clinton television ads—the torture memos, and the downgrading of the U.S. economy under war as fiscal and monetary policy. It also omits the crucial war resolution vote and the Iraq war itself.

Living History does include thoughtful mention of all the warm, gracious people of New York who made possible Clinton’s senate run, and grateful recognition of the political mentoring and other assistance Clinton received from significant political figures in New York. It thus reinforces her pledge, on entering the Senate, to “be a workhorse, not a showhorse.” So her independent power base, immense funding, and household name recognition never meant standing front and center on where taking a stand where a stand would make the most difference. (Torture memos. Indefinite detentions without charges. Extraordinary rendition flights. Electronic surveillance. Immunity for the telecomm companies. Election fraud. Vote suppression.)

Quoted in full below is Hillary Clinton’s take on running a divisive campaign, back then. No comment necessary:

             A fatal police shooting in New York City in March [2000] of a black man named Patrick Dorismond underscored the Mayor’s political vulnerabilities. Giuliani’s handling of this tragic case inflamed old hostilities between his office and the city’s minority populations. In this situation, the Mayor exacerbated a crisis when a calm and reassuring tone was needed. Citizens in many neighborhoods, especially minority ones, felt that the police under the Mayor’s leadership could not be trusted. Their wariness was fed by well-known cases like the shooting of Amadou Diallo in the Bronx the year before. Police officers, in turn, were legitimately frustrated that they were being misunderstood while trying to do their jobs effectively because of a city leadership at war with the communities they were trying to protect. When Giuliani released Dorismond’s sealed juvenile records, casting aspersions on a man who was dead, he merely drove the wedge deeper and intensified the distrust.

            The more Giuliani continued with his divisive rhetoric, the more determined I was to offer a different approach. In a speech at Riverside Church in Manhattan, I laid out a plan for improving relations between the police and minorities, including better recruitment, training and compensation for the NYPD. Then I went to Harlem to speak at the Bethel A.M.E. Church.

            Giuliani’s handling of the Dorismond case was wrong, and I intended to call him on it. Instead of easing the tensions and uniting the city, he had poured salt in the wound.

            “New York has a real problem, and we all know it,” I said. “All of us, it seems, except for the Mayor.” The packed sanctuary erupted in cheers and hallelujahs.

            My appearance in Harlem was a turning point in the campaign.