Americans might be cynical about their politicians but they revere their institutions, and there is no institution they revere more than the office of the presidency; and the current holder of that particular post - William Jefferson Clinton - they feel has done more than any president in living memory (with the one exception of Nixon) to bring that hallowed institution into disrepute. This is why so many of them feel he must go - sooner rather than later - to save himself, his party and the country from any further embarrassment.
But the chances of Clinton resigning are apparently slim. He might be demoralised and bruised, with bags under his eyes as the cameras revealed only too clearly on his trip to Ireland, but Clinton is not the resigning sort. Moreover, as any constitutional lawyer will tell you, the process of impeachment is a long one and is just as likely to damage the political system as a whole - including Congress - as it is to remove this particular President from office. Clinton's support in the country also remains high (so far) while the Republicans probably have more reason to keep a weak Democrat in the White House than run the risk of Al Gore taking over two years or more before the next presidential election in 2000.
Whatever the outcome in this highly uncertain situation, there is absolutely no doubting the fact that while the rest of the world pitches from one crisis to another, the American public and its lame duck President will be more interested over the coming months in those alleged stains on Ms Lewinsky's dress than they will be with the collapse of share prices around the world, and almost certainly less interested in famine in Africa or social tensions in Indonesia and South Korea, than with foreign policy stunts.
Marx spoke of "bread and circuses" as one way a besieged ruling class might keep the masses docile. Clinton might possibly serve up the occasional bomb-run on Iraq, or tough guy rhetoric against Cuba as his way of diverting attention away from problems on the home front, though at the risk of weakening the credibility of those international institutions upon which the world happens to be built.
What makes the whole situation even more dangerous, of course, is that this paralysis at the very heart of the international system - and in anatomical terms that is precisely where the President of the United States is located - is taking place at a time of enormous trouble.
The economic miracle that once was the Asia Pacific is no more. The world financial system is teetering along on the edge of meltdown. Country after country in Black Africa is imploding with the most appalling human consequences. Relations between Pakistan and India have never been worse, and both are nuclear capable. North Korea hovers on the point of disintegration after a two-year famine. And war continues to threaten in the Balkans and the Middle East. In many ways the world has not been so unstable since the end of the second World War.
To this deadly brew add Russia. It was not long ago that Clinton's predecessor, George Bush, promised us all a "new world order" built on the sure foundations of American power and Russian reform. That was back in those euphoric times immediately following the collapse of the USSR and US military success in the Gulf War.
Now the great crusade for capitalism in Russia has ended in disaster: and the meltdown continues as the country lurches from one political crisis to another while ordinary Russians look on like helpless spectators: too demoralised to revolt but increasingly willing to support those who promise to restore order to and to provide them with the barest essentials. The impact of all this upon the world as a whole can only be guessed at, for we do not know, and indeed cannot know, where we will be this time next week, let alone next year. Yet even at this early stage the consequences of the economic crisis in Russia and the political impasse in Washington have been enormous.
Consider the fall-out from Russia. Having, we were told, won the Cold War, we were informed America would win the peace by building capitalism successfully upon the wreckage left by communism. Clinton spoke enthusiastically, back in 1993, of building a "strategic alliance with Russian reform". He courted Yeltsin and his young arrogant economic reformers with enthusiasm.
Clinton gambled and lost. And the impact of this loss can scarcely be understated. In foreign policy terms, it represents a defeat every bit as significant as Vietnam over 20 years ago.
An exaggeration? Not at all. Vietnam, after all, only eroded American power for a short period. The events in Russia have undermined the case for capitalist reform in the world for at least a generation. As the controversial Malaysian Prime Minister, Mohatir bin Mohamed, declared last week,if the implosion in Asia followed by the chaos in Russia demonstrates anything, it is that "the free market system has failed and failed disastrously".
Little wonder that even the highly respected Washington Post recently called upon Western leaders to "rethink capitalism" rather than celebrate its virtues. Such an editorial would have been unthinkable six months ago.
But this is not all. Clinton's brave vision of world order was, we should recall, premised upon the existence of a co-operative and reforming Russia, as he made clear in speeches both before and after his elections in 1992 and 1996. All that has now gone up in smoke and as a result the US will have to rethink its whole position. It will also have to answer questions to which it has no answers. For instance, how is Washington going to deal with a Russia whose policies - at home as well as abroad - are increasingly going to be shaped by the outlook of Russian Communist, Gennady Zyuganov, rather than that nice man, Yeltsin?
Moreover, how is it going to prevent increasingly desperate and bitter Russians who feel betrayed by the West from forging new alliances with America's many enemies abroad? And how, most critically of all, is it going to cope with the fallout from possible economic disintegration in Russia, an implosion that could easily threaten the very existence of literally millions of Russians and generate the largest movement of refugees since 1945?
Which brings us down to earth - or more precisely back to Zippergate. While Russia burns, metaphorically-speaking, our demoralised American Nero fiddles while flicking through the 500-page report put together by the Special Prosecutor, possibly the most hated man in liberal Washington. But the aggressive advocate from Middle America cares not a jot about his enemies, nor it would seem about the world "out there". This most conservative of Christian Americans has had a mission, and that has been to prove that the clever, fluent and, dare one say, still popular Clinton is not fit to be President. If this leads to impeachment, then so be it. And if it upsets foreigners who stare on in sheer disbelief at this circus, so what? That is not his concern.
Perhaps not, but it is ours. This is not because we necessarily admire the deeply flawed Clinton, but because we (unlike the Special Prosecutor) recognise that what happens to us in the end depends upon decisions taken or not taken in Washington.
Those who doubt the truth of this simple fact of international life need look no further than the peace process in Ireland. Before Clinton, there were merely a few rays of peaceful sunshine reaching the ground in the North. His election and subsequent decisive intervention on the side of the peace process made what once seemed impossible a reality; certainly without him, Good Friday would have been unthinkable.
That surely is the lesson we need to keep in mind over the coming period. American Presidents are bestowed with enormous, almost mythical power. They have the capacity for great evil, as Nixon showed in Vietnam. But they also have the power to do great good, as Clinton has revealed in Ireland.
If Starr has his way - and he might - then the office would be capable of neither; at least not as long as the tortured Clinton remains clinging to the wreckage of a political career which began with such high hopes, but was undermined by one romantic intern and the determined efforts of one rather insignificant lawyer called Kenneth Starr. If it wasn't a farce we might call it a tragedy of global proportions.
Michael Cox is Editor of Irish Studies in International Affairs, which is published by the Royal Irish Academy, and Professor of Inter- national Politics at the University of Wales in Aberystwyth.