It’s hard to say. But it might not really matter: There doesn’t seem to be much correlation between the strength of a presidential candidate’s résumé and how history judges them after they’ve served in the White House.
In 1857, James Buchanan became president with a résumé just as impressive as Clinton’s (terms in the House and Senate, ambassador to Russia and the United Kingdom, secretary of state). After four years, he was succeeded by a man with remarkably thin qualifications — Abraham Lincoln had only served one term in the US House of Representatives before famously losing a Senate election.
But all that experience meant little. Buchanan went down in history as the man who couldn’t stop the impending Civil War, and Lincoln ended up with the giant memorial on the National Mall for saving the Union.
Similarly, Herbert Hoover, the last member of the Cabinet to become president, had a sterling reputation as an effective crisis manager and humanitarian before he moved into the White House, and as a world traveler who had lived in several countries. He’d managed food relief in Europe during and after World War I, helping save millions of people from starvation; as secretary of commerce, he directed relief after Mississippi River floods left more than 600,000 people homeless.
Then he became president in 1928 and oversaw the beginning of the Great Depression. "A great crisis manager and humanitarian" was not his legacy.
Many of the most effective presidents, on the other hand, had résumés that were perfectly adequate at best. Obama had served four years in the Senate; he ended up passing historic legislation and redefining the Democratic Party. Reagan had been governor of California and an actor. Franklin D. Roosevelt was governor of New York.
Qualifications are a fine thing to have. But history suggests they’re far from the most important thing when it comes to effective presidential leadership.
