Just go

“NOTHING in his life became him like the leaving it,” says Malcolm of Cawdor in “Macbeth”. In Bill Clinton's case, nothing in his presidency condemns him like his failure to leave it. He has broken his trust and disgraced his office, but he clings on. Saving his skin at all costs, against the odds, has become the theme of his political career. Each escape is notched up as a victory. But every time he wriggles through—grubbier, slicker, trailing longer festoons of contrition—he does more damage to his country.

In New York this week it was as if nothing had happened. “Business as usual” was the phrase. His wife was smiling at him again. Cabinet members were applauding. The Dow was rallying. At the party fund-raisers the president attended, not a seat was empty. Mr Clinton spoke of the huge financial challenges facing the world, and of America's obligation to lead it “in a way that is consistent with our values”. Words like this are meant to show that he is in charge, and some will hear them that way. But there is nothing behind them. What can “consistent with our values” possibly mean, when the overwhelming majority of Americans think Mr Clinton's values have little to do with theirs?

Power needs principle

It is easy to understand why Mr Clinton is fighting. He has everything to lose and, in his view, no good reason to lose it. The report into his misconduct by the independent counsel, Kenneth Starr, has played into his hands. Its 445 pages fail to deliver a knockout blow. There is strong evidence of perjury before a grand jury, which is a serious crime: but in the public's mind it is just more lies about sex, and that is deemed a forgivable sort of perjury. For the rest—witness-tampering, obstruction of justice, abuse of power—the evidence is less clear-cut. Altogether it is a tale of the tawdry emotional difficulties of two people, Bill and Monica, caught out in something they knew they should stop. Mr Starr has piled on the sexual details, to excess; but the details of anyone's sex life, presented to an outside audience, could look similarly comic and dirty. Above all, whatever happened to Whitewater, Travelgate, Filegate and the rest?

Mr Clinton senses, correctly, that the report has caused a backlash against Mr Starr. The independent counsel has always been unpopular. Now he appears both prurient and unfair. The long-term effect of this extraordinary inquiry may well be that no future Kenneth Starr is let loose against a sitting president (see article) . Meanwhile, according to the opinion polls, most Americans are content—eager would be too strong a word—that Mr Clinton should stay. No impeachment, no resignation; perhaps a simple vote of censure by Congress, a mere slap on the wrist, and swiftly back to work.

But that won't do. Perjury before a grand jury, as exhaustively described by Mr Starr, is worthy of impeachment. And even if it is not deemed impeachable, that does not mean it should be tolerated. Those in authority are rightly held to certain standards. In any other walk of public life, Mr Clinton's flagrant lying (to say nothing of the sexual dalliance) would have him out on his ear. Is the leader of the world's most powerful country to be allowed a lower standard of behaviour, just because he sits in the White House? The reverse should be true; precisely because he sits in the White House, the perceived exemplar and guardian of his country, he should be prepared to leave if he cannot behave.

At the centre of Mr Starr's report are two inescapable facts. Mr Clinton held his office cheap, and held lies dear. There is no reason to think this will change. Since mid-August he has apologised so many times that, if contrition were taxed, he would be bankrupt. But if he is so sorry, why the full-throttle legal defence against Mr Starr's accusations? At the famous prayer-breakfast on September 11th, at which he spoke of his sin and his “broken spirit”, the cameras caught him peeping round in the middle of his prayers, as if to check that everyone was watching. This is a consummate politician who knows exactly what strings, including heartstrings, he must pull to stay in office. That skill is the reason Americans think he should stay. That moral bankruptcy is why he must go.

All Mr Clinton's considerable energies are now turned in only one direction: his political survival. This means fighting, at full stretch, all charges already made and still to come. And there are certainly more to come. Mr Starr may yet have something to report on the other scandals, including Whitewater; he is said to have found nothing impeachable, but plenty that reinforces the pervading aura of sleaze. Meanwhile, other sexual skeletons may continue to tumble out of closets. All will be ridiculed, denied, resisted, rebutted, for as long as it takes.

America and the world at large have already suffered many months of this. They are crying out for the president's concentrated attention. People may not care that he is a philanderer, but they cannot afford his distraction. Mr Clinton's legislative ambitions have long been consigned to the sidelines. His foreign-policy initiatives—attempting to revive the Middle East's hope of peace, fighting newly-resurgent terrorism, coping with collapsing Russia—are in desperate need of new commitment. Even those who still respect this president, a dwindling band, no longer have any expectations of him. He has severed the trust and thrown away the moral suasion that make presidents effective. He may well stay in office for another two years, but consumed with his own image and continuously on the defensive. No country can afford that.

Mr Clinton still has a chance to do the decent thing. He has primed Al Gore, his vice-president, to carry on his New Democrat agenda. Now, since Mr Clinton is no longer a credible standard-bearer himself, he should give Mr Gore his chance. The vice-president is not free of legal questions, but his impeccable private life makes him the man for the moment. Democrats would rally to him, the public would sympathise; he would be able to lead and govern and, at least for a time, turn the country to a fresh page.

Of course, it will not happen. Mr Clinton, the Comeback Kid, has seen enough glints of light to persuade him to stay. This is a man who supposes that even after congressional censure he could bounce back grinning. Perhaps he could. But the spectacle has become too painful, too empty and too wearying to contemplate. Don't bounce. Just go.