As far as the men who are running for president are concerned

When Nora Ephron declared, “As far as the men who are running for president are concerned, they aren’t even people I would date,” she did more than deliver a witty remark — she issued a challenge to power itself. With her trademark blend of humor and clarity, Ephron cut through the grandeur of politics and exposed a truth as old as humanity: that character, not status, determines worth. Her words, light on the surface, carry the weight of discernment. They remind us that greatness without goodness is emptiness, and that leadership, like love, must begin in the soul.

To understand her wisdom, one must first know the heart of satire from which it was born. Ephron, both writer and observer of human folly, lived in a time when politics often masked pretense as virtue and performance as sincerity. Her quote, though modern in form, belongs to an ancient tradition — the moral jest — where laughter unveils truth. Like the Greek playwright Aristophanes, who mocked the vanity of Athens to awaken its conscience, Ephron used irony to reveal the hollowness of certain men who sought power. To say they were unworthy of “dating” was not merely jest; it was judgment — a declaration that those who cannot inspire respect on a personal level are unfit to command it on a national one.

For what is a leader, if not first a human being? What is authority, if not an extension of the heart’s integrity? Ephron’s quote reminds us that political greatness without emotional wisdom, without empathy or authenticity, is a barren thing. The leaders she dismissed were men who, to her, lacked warmth, curiosity, and sincerity — the very qualities that make human connection possible. In her sharp and humorous way, she equated the moral qualities of love and leadership, suggesting that the traits which make one lovable — kindness, humility, humor, compassion — are the same that make one trustworthy to lead.

History offers countless examples of this truth. Consider Marcus Aurelius, the philosopher-emperor of Rome. Though he ruled an empire, he governed himself first. He did not seek power for adoration, nor for vanity, but as a duty to others. His Meditations reveal a soul concerned not with conquest, but with virtue — a man who could be both leader and companion, ruler and friend. Such a man, Ephron might have said, one could “date.” But the tyrants of her age — and of ours — those who chase power for dominance or fame, she dismissed with a flick of irony. Through her laughter, she defended the ancient truth: that power without character is corruption, and prestige without humility is poison.

Ephron’s remark also carries a quieter wisdom about discernment — the ability to see beyond appearance. Many are dazzled by position, by titles, by the illusion of grandeur. But Ephron, like the philosophers of old, looked beyond the veil. She weighed men not by their speeches, but by their humanity. In doing so, she reminded all, especially women, to trust the instinct that measures truth not in words, but in presence. Just as one chooses a companion not by his promise but by his heart, so must we choose our leaders not by their polish, but by their substance.

Her humor, though cutting, is ultimately hopeful. It calls us to hold our standards high — not only in politics, but in all relationships. Ephron’s dismissal of unworthy leaders is a form of self-respect, a refusal to settle for mediocrity wrapped in power. It is the same lesson the ancients taught in different words: Do not bow before the golden statue; it is hollow inside. In a time when many mistake loudness for strength and ambition for purpose, her words stand as a quiet act of rebellion — a reminder that the heart must never be deceived by the crown.

So let this be the teaching passed down: judge not by status, but by spirit. The world will offer you leaders, lovers, and idols — many adorned with glory, but few adorned with grace. Learn, as Ephron did, to look beyond the surface. Ask not what a person possesses, but what they embody. Would you trust them in intimacy, in silence, in truth? If not, they are unfit to lead your heart — or your nation. For in the end, the measure of a leader, like that of a lover, is not found in what he claims, but in how he makes others feel seen, respected, and safe.

Thus, Nora Ephron’s wit becomes a beacon of ancient wisdom disguised in modern laughter. Her jest is a mirror — one that reveals who is truly worthy of admiration and who merely wears its costume. May we, too, learn to laugh with clarity, to see with depth, and to demand from our leaders — and ourselves — the grace that makes humanity worth following.