In a frank, wide-ranging talk, U2's Bono discusses his visits with the pope and President Clinton, his upcoming album, and his success at making important people support his key cause: Third World debt.

George, April 2000

By Richard Blow

One would not expect to find U2's Bono, dressed simply in black pants, an olive shirt, and a military-style cap, at Cafe des Artistes. The rarefied European-style restaurant, just off Manhattan's tony Central Park West, caters more to affluent retirees than to rock stars, and the conversations are so hushed that the place feels like a library reading room. But Bono, who arrives by foot from a borrowed apartment 10 blocks away, is at home amid the old-world atmosphere. "I love this place," he says, and the restaurant staff discreetly nod and welcome him as a regular with a penchant for privacy. Scanning a menu, Bono orders a beet salad, steak frites, and a bottle of Cote de Beaune. "I have a place in France," he says. "I'm learning about wine."

Talk soon turns to world politics. "I'm not saying I know a lot about these subjects," he insists, though he clearly does. That isn't the rock star in Bono speaking, but the figure he is evolving into: a political leader for the new century.

How did you get involved with your organization for Third World debt relief, Jubilee 2000? It's not exactly a household topic.

It's a hard sell. That's why you need to get pop stars in a photograph with a pontiff before people will pay it any attention. You have to create drama some other way.

For me this goes back to Live Aid and the song "Do They Know It's Christmas." That whole thing affected me on a very profound level, that this little piece of plastic, vinyl, could affect the lives of millions. And raise $200 million for Africa. Later, I found out that Africa spends $200 million a month on its debt repayments.

So you bought a month?

Yeah. But I was really carried away with it, and my wife, Ali, and I went to Africa. We worked there for a month, just following through. Walking in the camps. We swore to each other that we would never forget our experiences there. And in the background we were always thinking that we've got to get beyond just putting your hand in your pocket - it's the structure, the relationship between the West and the economies that, for our own spiritual well-being, we'd better come to deal with.

How much progress has been made?

A lot. In the United States, very few people are aware that the government has canceled the debts of 36 countries. That's an extraordinary step. It has forever changed the relationship between the developing and the developed world. Once the president of the United States said that it is immoral for a man to repay loans rather than feed his starving children, everything changed.

President Clinton has mentioned you in speeches on this subject at least twice. Does that make you at all uncomfortable - the president of the United States citing a rock star about a policy that involves billions of dollars?

Part of the smartness of this administration is their openness to new ideas, no matter how you're dressed. So I walk into the Oval Office in my khakis. They offered me this audience because they're not looking at me, they're listening to the idea. And that's smart.

In Ireland, we have a history of poets and painters involving themselves in politics. Poets and politicians conspired to create a mythology, a vision of Ireland that probably wasn't true. The poets created this kind of mythical Ireland that sheltered us from the sleet and hailstones of colonialism.

When you're meeting with these young White House aides, how do you know they don't just want to be able to say they met Bono?

That might be the start of it. But on this issue, that hasn't been the end of it. And I've been surprised. Not just in Bill Clinton's White House but in Wall Street, in the Treasury department; with some Republicans, there's been an openness I really wasn't expecting. I arrived with lock picks, and they were opening the door.

You didn't expect such good treatment from the establishment.

We love this idea, especially in rock 'n' roll, of good guys and bad guys. We're the good guys; they that wear the suits are the bad guys. But in fact they're just the busy guys. [Laughs] They don't have the time to see the bigger picture. Which is inexcusable, by the way, if you're in the seat of power.

And if you don't make the time, you get [the riots at December's World Trade Organization meetings in] Seattle.

So they were smart to listen.

Yes. We have a constituency.

When you're onstage and you've got 75,000 people hanging on your words, there's a power that's about more than rock music. It's almost fascistic.

Sure.

Did you ever stand onstage and think, What if I told these people to go jump off a bridge?

You know what they would do? Just go home. Look, we have our share of assholes that come to see us. Onstage as well. [Laughs] I'm one of them at times. But our audiences are very smart, and if we abuse that relationship it would simply end. If I told people how to vote, they would tell me, "Go fuck yourself."

What do rock stars and politicians have in common?

They're both performers. Both, if they're any good, have a sense of occasion. But politicians are more like pop stars than rocks stars.

What's the difference?

Their audience has a short memory.

Which are you?

I am both. But U2 is a rock band.

Are you a politician?

Jim Morrison called himself an erotic politician, didn't he? [Laughs] I have a respect for the word politician that is unusual in my world. It comes from having met them, and seeing how hard they work. I have actually sat with people in bands who describe politicians as the anti-Christ and are sure that the Capitol is the domain for all anti-Christs. And I'm saying, You don't understand. These people get home really late. If they went into business, they'd be a lot wealthier. We should pay them more and expect more from them. I have to confess, I've got a respect for them that I really didn't expect.

Do politicians respect you?

I don't care. I really don't. I care for Jubilee 2000, or Amnesty International, or whatever. I want them to get respect. People can get confused and think that because your issue is worthy, therefore you are. To be in a position where people expect a lot from you personally, rather than from your work, is dangerous.

But people do expect that. I don't think U2 could behave badly and not have that behavior undermine your politics.

I thought we did a very good job of trashing our public image. After Zoo TV, people thought, Well, there they go, they've embraced the cliché. And, partly, that's true. But we did it in a smart way, because we just didn't like wearing the righteous shoes. They really slow us down.

Politicians do get [judged by their behavior], but musicians, we don't. And we mustn't. We're judged for the songs, or the work.

It seemed a delicate balancing act to change your old image without rejecting the passionate politics of U2 in the 1980's.

And we never did reject that. Because as a person, as a performer, you're looking for wholeness. On a spiritual level, I think that's God's design for us. Wholeness. And that often amounts to embracing contradictions. So we started to mine our own hypocrisy, rather than throwing stones at the political system, as we did in the '80s. In the '90s, we started to have a go at ourselves. Some people preferred the other way, which was like, rebel throws rock through the glass case of some obvious evil. But it's the same thing in the end. Outside of the songs, we continued on the same path of protest, politically, that we'd always been on.

But the songs did become less explicitly political.

They did. The songs definitely changed.

And that was conscious?

It is now. [Laughs] I mean, I don't write songs about things I could write an essay about.

Did the fact that songs can be misunderstood cause you to write less explicitly political songs? You were obviously uncomfortable with the way some people interpreted "Sunday Bloody Sunday" as a pro-IRA song.

Right. That was a religious outburst, contrasting the idea of Easter Sunday with the Easter Sunday when British paratroopers shot dead 13 protesters. It was naive. A lot of our work in the '80s was very naive. But I like that now. It's ecstatic music. It has a sense of wonder and a joy about it. And joy is the hardest thing. You can create anger. You can achieve drama easily. But joy...

Do you feel the same way about your politics in the '80's?

Pretty much, yeah. I can't remember anything that I regret.

Because you're spending so much time with politicians now, there must be things that you can't say now that you could have said then.

I have a kind of Tourette's syndrome, though, where the very thing I'm not supposed to say just forces its way out of me gob. The foot is destined for the mouth. So in that sense I'm probably not a good politician.

At least you never said U2 is bigger than Jesus.

No. Jesus has made us big.

Isn't there a risk of being co-opted by politicians? By someone who wants to be seen with you, to associate themselves with your fame or moral authority, but they're not necessarily going to come through for you?

I can't worry too much about that. In Guyana people have a life expectancy of 47 years. And they're spending as much on repaying their loans to the West as they are on educating their people. So I don't think I can be too worried about who I'm sitting down with. Conservative Republicans - they want to talk the scriptures, I can talk the scriptures.

How long have you known Clinton?

We met him when he was campaigning in 1992. Politicians and rock stars have a similar touring schedule - they travel at night and then they work through the day. So we would cross paths. And there was an incident in Chicago where we were in the same hotel. At, like, three o'clock in the morning, we were all eating pizza and drinking wine, and somebody said, "Where's Bill Clinton? Ask him if he wants some pizza." We were being cheeky.

It was a reasonable question.

[Laughs] For some reason, we were politely turned away. But the next morning he came up to our room and wanted to talk about Ireland. That's his curiosity for new ideas and new people. But the relationship between politicians and musicians is always going to be amusing. I can walk out of the White House and praise the president for what he's done in Ireland or with debt relief. But the next year I might be chaining myself to the railings.

That seems particularly important with Bill Clinton. There are a lot of people who have felt that they knew where they stood with him and later felt betrayed by him.

I have a different point of view. I'm a European; I see an America that's rehabilitated in a way that was unimaginable to me 10 years ago. Back then the U.S. was the neighborhood bully, inept in foreign policy, beating up on the wrong guy everywhere. With The Joshua Tree, we were writing about Central America and the dark side of the United States. Now America looks smart and, dare I say, sexy again. During [the war in] Bosnia, when this Muslim population was living with genocide and a united Europe couldn't agree on anything, it was the Americans who came to rescue them.

Is it tougher, in a way, to have somebody like Clinton as president, rather than someone who had clear differences with you?

It's a lot different, especially in musical terms. Rebel rock has a certain romance. Arriving with your statistics and bowler hat is never going to ring the same.

Have your own politics changed much over the last 20 years?

I'm what you call a champagne socialist. My father was from the left; I grew up on labor ideas. Simple adages: housing, health, education. I thought having a family would actually take a lot of my energies away from such passions. I'm surprised that it did rather the opposite. My children have made me more aggressive about the world that they're about to inhabit.

Has your political work infused the record you're making?

The record is in no way a political record. It's a very personal record. But it has a certain fire to it that you get when you're all where you're supposed to be. I would go off to America and come back and I'd have songs in my head.

How is the album coming?

We've got all the songs now. An we've just got to put them into arrangements. I mean, we have the songs, and we just haven't quite finished them. Some great songs in there.

Can you characterize the album?

If we had only one record to make, this would be it. That's the way we're looking at it.

Are you a role model for younger musicians?

[Groans] Oh, don't. I think a lot of people out there just think, Oh, yeah, weren't they the band that had all those ideals in the '80s, and then they started dressing up in shiny suits and got all artsy? I don't think people see us as a role model, and I rather like that they don't. We're going after the soul music now. That's where the battle is won and lost for me politically - in the deep waters of the soul.