Thinking about assumptions

Here is a slightly longer passage of reasoning taken from an article in a newspaper, discussing
whether Bill Clinton, who was the President of the United States from 1992 until
2000, should be criticised for his alleged sexual involvements with women other than his
wife. The article was written some years before Clinton’s liaison with Monica Lewinsky –
an affair to which he eventually admitted, after having lied on oath about it. The following
points may make it easier to understand the passage:
• The author uses the word ‘syllogism’ in the second sentence, but it is used inaccurately.
A syllogism is a particular form of argument. What the author describes as a syllogism
is simply a hypothetical statement.
• In the first paragraph the author refers to Richard Nixon, a former President of the
United States, and says that ‘the American people could not be sure where he was
during the day’. This is a reference to the widespread perception of Nixon as being an
untrustworthy politician. His nickname was ‘Tricky Dickie’.
Now read the passage, say what you think is its main conclusion, and write down a list of
assumptions which you think it makes.
Two justifications are generally given for the examination of a politician’s sex life.
The first is the prissy syllogism that ‘if a man would cheat on his wife, he would
cheat on his country’. But Gerry Ford and Jimmy Carter were, by most accounts,
strong husbands but weak Presidents. I would guess that Pat Nixon knew where
Dick was every night. The problem was that the American people could not be sure
where he was during the day. Conversely, it is a sad but obvious fact that, to many of
those men to whom he gave unusual political nous, God handed out too much
testosterone as well.
The second excuse for prurience towards rulers is that leaders, tacitly or explicitly,
set examples to the nation and thus their own slips from grace are hypocritical. But
Bill Clinton, unlike many senior US politicians, has never publicly claimed that he
has led an entirely decent life.
And if the US does wish to impose strict standards of sexual morality on its leaders,
then it must properly address the Kennedy paradox. A month ago in Dallas, I
watched people weep and cross themselves at the minute of the 30th anniversary of
JFK’s assassination. If only he had lived, they said then, and millions of middle-aged
Americans say it daily. They construct a cult of stolen greatness. But if JFK had
lived, he would have been trashed weekly by bimbo anecdotes in the supermarket
magazines. If he had run for President in the Eighties, he wouldn’t have got beyond
New Hampshire before the first high-heel fell on television.