The sobering recognition, now finally settling in, is that Bill Clinton was not an accident—a solecism cast up by the electoral system when Mr. Ross Perot managed to split the Republican vote. It becomes more and more apparent that Bill Clinton is a reflection of something in the American character, and the public reaction to Clinton offers a precise reflection, at this moment, of the national soul. According to some recent surveys, about 54 percent of the public do not think that Bill Clinton could be considered “honest and trustworthy.” But the same surveys also report that about 62 percent of the public think that he has honesty and integrity enough to serve as President. Mr. Clinton may have—shall we say?—an infirm sense of truth, but nothing in this vice is thought to disqualify him for his public office. The discrepancy can be explained only if the public has now absorbed, deeply, this kind of distinction: the fact that Clinton has serious moral deficits, or a want of virtue, does not mean that he is wanting in the virtues of a political man, in the exercise of power.

What has taken place is a recasting of “virtue” in its application to politics, or a radical change in the understanding of “morality” in public life. Plato had Socrates say in the Gorgias that before we give an architect a commission to build a public building, we look at his portfolio to see what privatebuildings he has done: before