Anyone who watched George W. and Karl Rove while the former was

The words of Molly Ivins, “Anyone who watched George W. and Karl Rove while the former was governor of Texas will recognize a familiar pattern. Like much of Bush's social policy — from faith-based social services to railing against gay marriage — women's issues are one of the bones they've decided they can throw to the Christian right,” carry the fiery clarity of one who refused to be deceived by power’s disguise. In her sharp and fearless voice, Ivins exposes the machinery of politics — the way noble causes are too often treated not as moral imperatives, but as tokens to secure loyalty. Her tone is not merely critical; it is prophetic, lamenting how matters of justice and equality, particularly those concerning women, are reduced to bargaining chips in the games of men who seek dominion through the manipulation of faith and fear.

To understand the force of her words, one must first understand Molly Ivins herself — a daughter of Texas, a journalist whose wit was as sharp as her moral compass. She lived through the rise of George W. Bush and his strategist Karl Rove, men who mastered the art of courting the conservative religious base that held immense influence in American politics. Ivins saw that the issues most sacred to this base — from marriage laws to reproductive rights — were not always approached from conviction, but from calculation. To “throw a bone,” as she said, was to offer symbolic victories — small gestures of allegiance to satisfy the faithful while greater injustices remained unaddressed. In this way, women’s rights and social issues were not uplifted, but weaponized.

The ancients would have recognized this pattern well. In every age, those who seek power have found ways to harness the fervor of the people — turning devotion into obedience, and faith into currency. The Roman emperors claimed divine favor to justify their rule, while in medieval courts, kings invoked God’s will to suppress dissent. Ivins’ warning is not only about one administration, but about a universal truth: when religion and politics entwine without conscience, justice becomes theater, and those most in need of protection are the first to be sacrificed.

To use women’s issues as tools for political advantage, as Ivins observed, is to betray both faith and democracy. For true faith calls for compassion, and true democracy demands equality. When leaders exploit these values to maintain their grip on power, they corrupt the very institutions they claim to serve. The “Christian right,” as she called it, became not a movement of spiritual renewal, but a voting bloc to be appeased — offered symbolic gestures like opposition to gay marriage or restrictions on women’s autonomy, while the deeper rot of inequality remained untouched. The manipulation of moral issues for political gain, she implies, is one of the oldest and most dangerous sins of governance.

History offers a mirror to her words. Consider the reign of Constantine, the first Christian emperor of Rome, who adopted Christianity not purely from conviction, but as a means to unite his empire. His conversion changed the course of history — yet it also set the stage for centuries in which faith and power would walk hand in hand, often at the cost of truth. Like the rulers Ivins described, Constantine understood that the language of morality could move masses more effectively than the sword. The lesson is eternal: when justice becomes a means to rule, rather than a measure of righteousness, the soul of a nation begins to wither.

Ivins’ words, though political, are also deeply moral. Her lament is not only for the women whose rights were bartered away, but for the integrity of democracy itself. A government that treats people’s beliefs as tools cannot long sustain the trust of its citizens. And a society that allows this to continue grows numb to hypocrisy. The ancients taught that the corruption of the powerful begins not in greed but in cynicism — the belief that ideals are merely instruments, not truths. Ivins, with the clarity of a modern oracle, sought to pierce that cynicism with the light of honesty.

Let this, then, be the lesson for future generations: never allow moral causes to become political currency. When leaders speak of justice, demand that they live it. When they invoke faith, watch whether they act in love or in manipulation. The fight for women’s equality, for human dignity, and for social progress must never be reduced to a gesture — it must remain a sacred duty, carried out with courage and sincerity. For justice, as the ancients said, is not the gift of rulers, but the foundation of the world.

Thus, Molly Ivins speaks across time like one of the old truth-tellers — mocking the arrogance of power with wit, and reminding humanity that freedom demands vigilance. Her words warn us that when the powerful “throw bones” to appease, it is because they believe the people will settle for scraps. But the wise will not. They will demand the whole meal — justice, equality, and integrity — and they will not rest until they are fed.