I revere the history of my party, most particularly the value it

“I revere the history of my party, most particularly the value it has always placed on the worth and dignity of the individual, and I will continue to work across the country for Republican candidates.” Thus spoke Susan Collins, a woman of moderation and principle, whose voice has often risen amid the clamor of division in American politics. Her words reach beyond the mere walls of party and power; they summon an ancient ideal—the enduring reverence for the dignity of the individual and the duty of loyalty to one’s tradition, even when that tradition trembles under the weight of the age.

In these words, Collins does not speak only of partisanship. She speaks as one who remembers the founding spirit of her political lineage, as the ancients would recall their tribes’ sacred oaths. The Republican Party, in its origins, stood as the defender of liberty and the abolisher of bondage. It was the party of Lincoln, who declared that a nation conceived in liberty must treat every man as equal in worth. Collins, when she says she “reveres” that history, reaches back to that moral beginning—to the belief that human dignity transcends all factions, that even amid the noise of ideology, there remains the quiet law of conscience.

And yet, her words are also a lament. To revere is not simply to praise—it is to honor something that is in danger of being forgotten. By invoking the “worth and dignity of the individual,” Collins reminds us that political movements, like all human institutions, are prone to losing their soul when they chase power without purpose. The ancients knew this truth well. Empires rise on virtue and fall into corruption when they forget the sacred balance between the collective and the individual. In her own time, Collins has walked this narrow path, often standing apart from her peers, guided not by anger or ambition but by the still voice of principle.

Consider the example of Marcus Aurelius, the philosopher-emperor of Rome. Surrounded by intrigue and war, he often found himself questioning the meaning of loyalty—whether to the empire or to truth itself. In his meditations, he concluded that fidelity to the greater good, not blind obedience, is the truest form of service. Susan Collins, too, echoes that ancient wisdom. To remain loyal to one’s party while upholding the dignity of the individual is not weakness; it is the highest form of discipline. It demands courage to stand firm when one’s own house trembles, to labor not for applause but for the restoration of what is just and humane.

Her pledge to “continue to work across the country for Republican candidates” is not merely political—it is an act of faith in the possibility of renewal. Like the reformers of every age, Collins believes that within even the most fractured institution lies the seed of redemption. For history is filled with such rebirths. When the early church strayed into corruption, the reformers rose not to destroy it, but to call it back to its founding light. When democracies falter, their salvation does not come from abandonment but from remembrance—from those who dare to recall the first principles that gave them life.

Thus, her words carry a quiet heroism. To remain within a divided house, to seek not its destruction but its purification, is the work of those who understand that true reform comes from within. The cynic abandons what is broken; the wise repair it. The loyal servant does not worship the institution blindly but honors the ideals upon which it was built—in this case, liberty, dignity, and the sanctity of individual worth.

Let this be the lesson passed down: reverence must be matched by responsibility. To honor the past is not to dwell in it but to guard its best principles against decay. Whatever your allegiance—be it to a party, a cause, or a people—remember that the worth of all human endeavor lies in its service to the dignity of each soul. Seek always to preserve what is noble in your tradition, and when that tradition strays, be not silent. For the truest loyalty is not to power, but to principle.

In the end, as Susan Collins reminds us, every generation must rediscover the heart of its creed. Civilization itself survives only through such acts of remembrance. The banners may change, the leaders may rise and fall, but the dignity of the individual—that eternal spark—remains the foundation upon which every just society is built. Guard it well, for in guarding it, you guard the very soul of your nation.