The secularists are giddy that three potential Republican presidential nominees have questionable pasts: John McCain (affair, divorce), Newt Gingrich (affair, divorce, affair, divorce), and Rudy Giuliani (divorce, affair, divorce). One writer refers to them as “the most maritally challenged crop of presidential hopeful in American political history.”
The same writer thinks it’s a good thing. He says it means voters are growing up:
Of course, you could argue that we’d all benefit if reporters didn’t write about any of this. But you could also argue that the support voters gave Bill Clinton suggests that they can handle the truth and are capable of distinguishing between public and private behavior. Perhaps the very fact that Gingrich, Giuliani and McCain are even considering presidential runs reflects a growing maturity in American politics.
Ah, yes, the need to distinguish between public and private. It’s a familiar observation, but I’m not sure I understand it.
Nearly every examination of a historical figure ends up looking intensely at his home life and seeing how it influenced his public actions, whether it’s Pontius Pilate and his wife or Warren Harding’s scandalous presidency. Historians know: There is no great divide between private and public. The same person walks in both.
If a person doesn’t have control of his greed in private life, isn’t he more likely to take a bribe in public life? If a person has a terrible temper in private life, isn’t he more likely to lose it when we need him to be a good diplomat? If a person is a drunk in private life, isn’t he more likely to attend meetings under the influence? If a person isn’t faithful to his betrothed, what makes us think he’ll be faithful to 300 million strangers?
The thing is, passion inflames. It distorts the reasoning process. In classical philosophy, it’s known as the “doctrine of connaturality”: the apprehension of truth can take place only after the clamoring of the passions has calmed down.
If a person has surrendered himself to passion — and does so repeatedly, to the point it becomes habitual or erupts in serious misconduct, like adultery — the effects stay with the person. It’s kind of like a hangover. The most noticeable effects of a passion — the inebriation, the beating heart, the yelling — might be gone, but the effects are still there. Take a look at your worst passion. Do you find yourself more inclined to engage in it later, if you indulged it earlier? I do, and so does everyone else. If you don’t, you’re a spiritual freak.
Of course, a person’s misconduct in personal life does not mean he will definitely perform poorly in office. Far from it. The whole concept of republican government assumes there is a “public thing” (res publica) that is held in trust by the governing individuals and the public thing is distinguished from the private thing. In public, the official holds his powers in trust for the benefit of everyone. In private, he doesn’t. It makes sense that he would play the two different roles with different standards. Reagan, after all, had a checkered moral past, and most people would agree that he did an excellent job.
Still, the politician is always the same person, and the same temptations lurk in both parts of his life. In fact, the temptations in public life are greater, especially in these days of bloated government, where money is ample and loose, and people fall all over themselves and clamber over others — or fling themselves at others — to profit from it.
A politician’s private conduct is a “risk factor.” Educators identify risk factors all the time, asking, “Does a child have certain features outside of school that indicate he might have trouble learning or adapting socially? Does he, for instance, come from a broken home?” The educators aren’t saying that a child from a fatherless home is going to fail. But studies show that such a child is more likely to fail, and therefore needs to be watched a little more carefully.
And that’s what I’m saying with the philandering politicians. They’re not necessarily going to fail. But they merit closer watching after we elect them, and we ought to be nervous when voting for them in the first place.
© Copyright 2006 Catholic Exchange
Eric Scheske is an attorney, the Editor of The Daily Eudemon, a Contributing Editor of Godspy, and the former editor of Gilbert Magazine.
