President Clinton’s address to the American people Monday night was notable only for its brevity: Five minutes of the same old defensive, improbable insincerities that have marked his administration since its beginnings in the 1992 campaign. Instead of reassuring the nation that he is a flawed man whose intentions are honorable, the president presented an unrepentant defendant whose primary goal is to shut down the investigation of special prosecutor Kenneth Starr.

The brief speech Monday was more than an opportunity lost; it was another swing of a pickax against the dignity of the office of the presidency. And no matter that the president is certainly correct — Mr. Starr’s investigation has gone on for too long and into places it had no good reason to go — Mr. Clinton himself has done more to belittle the office than the special prosecutor ever could. Unintentionally, the two have worked together to produce a spectacle that sets a new standard for political embarrassment.

Even this late in his presidency, Mr. Clinton doesn’t understand how transparent his finely reasoned legal finessing appears to the public. In his speech, he said, “I misled people, including even my wife.” But the sad thing is that he didn’t, because almost no one was fooled, despite his best attempts. What the first lady knew of her husband’s affair with Monica Lewinsky is her own private pain, one that she may carry along with the pain brought by the president’s other adulterous adventures. But misled? The president doesn’t lie that well.

The overwhelming public opinion about the investigation seems to be, “When will this circus be over?” The answer, from news reports, is not soon. Congress next month should have Mr. Starr’s report about his investigation, just in time for the next election. Don’t expect Republicans to read it calmly and then move on with the business of governing the country. Outrage will be expressed. Hearings will be scheduled. Impeachment will be discussed. Hoping to add gravitas to the discussion, GOP leaders will say this is not about sex but about the lying afterward.

Punishing the president for engaging in an American pastime — lying about sex — is pointless and, perhaps, dangerous. Sen. Orrin Hatch, R-Utah, has had the good sense and foresight to understand this. The senator, chairman of the Senate Judiciary Committee, knows that a harassed leader at home puts America’s interests abroad at risk. He offered the simple condition that if president told the truth Monday, he would not seek impeachment hearings.

If the Republicans were to gain political points out of this mess, they did it with that mature and emminently fair offer.

No, this isn’t about sex nor the inevitable lies that followed. And it isn’t about impeachable offenses or — goodness knows — Whitewater. Monday night’s speech, for all the president’s directness and willingness to be “solely and completely responsible,” was about sacrificing honor for political expediency.

He admitted only what he was absolutely forced to admit, parsed the definition of sexual affair to absurdity (“…my answers were legally accurate …”), may have lied again (“…at no time did I ask anyone to lie …”), informed viewers that it was none of their business (“Now, this matter is between me, the two people I love most … and our God”) and attacked Mr. Starr’s work. It was a performance that lacked nothing but candor.

Despite the conclusions of web-page conspiracy theorists, Bill Clinton is a likable fellow. The outsized grin and perpetual empathy, late-night bull sessions, fondness for McDonald’s and pizza, his weight problem all make him seem not so very far removed from Main Street. The disappointment comes from his repeated failure as president to show moral leadership or to champion (since his health care failure) major issues in Congress. If he is as truly concerned with what the history books will say about him as he appears, he will use the short time left in his presidency to do something about this.

A final two years of real proposals for Social Security, campaign-finance reform, tough environmental issues and — again — health care would achieve more than a dozen spin doctors to rehabilitate his reputation. They would allow the public to forget about his private, poorly chosen indulgences. They would begin to rebuild the dignity of his office.