I have three favorite politicians: Reagan, Truman, and Bobby

In the cadence of reflection and reverence, Joe Scarborough once declared: “I have three favorite politicians: Reagan, Truman, and Bobby Kennedy — Bobby for showing remarkable political courage despite being loathed by many on both sides.” These words are not merely an expression of admiration, but a meditation on courage, the rarest virtue in the realm of power. Through them, Scarborough honors a truth that transcends ideology — that greatness in leadership is not born of popularity, but of principle; not of applause, but of conviction.

To understand these words, we must look to their origin — to a time when Robert F. Kennedy, brother of a slain president, stepped forth into the turbulent 1960s, a decade torn by war, division, and despair. The nation he sought to lead was fractured — by race, by poverty, by the violence that had consumed his brother and so many others. Yet Kennedy, rather than retreating into silence or bitterness, chose to walk among those who suffered. He went to the fields of California to speak with migrant workers. He stood before angry crowds in Indianapolis the night Martin Luther King Jr. was assassinated, speaking not with power, but with compassion. He dared to call for peace when the country demanded vengeance, and for unity when hatred was easier. Such acts were not calculated — they were courageous.

Scarborough’s reflection reminds us that political courage is not the courage of the battlefield, but of the soul. It is the strength to stand alone, to be despised by both allies and adversaries alike, and still to hold fast to truth. In calling Bobby Kennedy “loathed by many on both sides,” he reveals a deep paradox — that those who challenge the boundaries of their time are rarely embraced within it. Kennedy’s message of empathy defied partisanship; he called both rich and poor, black and white, liberal and conservative, to remember their shared humanity. It was a message too radical for the fearful, too gentle for the cynical — and so he was both praised and reviled.

In naming Reagan, Truman, and Kennedy, Scarborough unites a trinity of leaders defined not by ideology but by character. Ronald Reagan brought to his nation a spirit of optimism — the conviction that belief in America could heal its divisions. Harry Truman, though humble and unpretentious, bore the burden of decisions that changed history — to end a world war, to face the dawn of the atomic age, to rebuild through the Marshall Plan. Both men, like Kennedy, possessed what Scarborough most revered: a willingness to act according to conscience rather than convenience. Each faced moments when the path of honor led through solitude, yet they did not waver.

Courage, in its truest form, is a flame that burns not for glory, but for truth. It is what carried Bobby Kennedy into the heart of danger — not for ambition, but for compassion. In the ghettos, the schools, the prisons, and the migrant camps, he saw not statistics but souls. His courage was not loud, but luminous. It was the kind that listens, that forgives, that believes in redemption even when the world mocks such belief. To be “loathed by many on both sides,” as Scarborough notes, is often the price paid by those who refuse to belong to one tribe alone — who speak for the common good when all others clamor for faction and power.

Let us, then, take this as a teaching for our own age, when courage has become rare and conviction easily traded for comfort. Let us remember that true leadership is not measured by applause or polls, but by the willingness to do what is right even when it invites rejection. In our own lives — in our homes, our work, our communities — we too are called to choose between approval and integrity. The lesson of Scarborough’s words is clear: be as Bobby Kennedy was — gentle yet unyielding, hopeful yet unafraid, steadfast even in solitude.

So, O seekers of virtue, let your measure of greatness not be how many agree with you, but how deeply you stand for what is just. Honor those who, like Kennedy, bear the burden of being misunderstood for the sake of truth. For in every generation, the world belongs not to the comfortable, but to the courageous — those who are willing to be “loathed by many” and yet still love humanity all the more.