If a politician murders his mother, the first response of the
If a politician murders his mother, the first response of the press or of his opponents will likely be not that it was a terrible thing to do, but rather that in a statement made six years before he had gone on record as being opposed to matricide.
In the words of Meg Greenfield, “If a politician murders his mother, the first response of the press or of his opponents will likely be not that it was a terrible thing to do, but rather that in a statement made six years before he had gone on record as being opposed to matricide.” we hear the lament of a keen observer of the political stage. Greenfield, a Pulitzer Prize-winning journalist and longtime editorial director of The Washington Post, knew well the absurd theater into which political life often descends. Her words are not about murder itself, but about the distorted priorities of politics and media: that in the game of power, consistency and contradiction often matter more than morality itself.
The origin of this thought lies in Greenfield’s decades of watching Washington. She saw how scandals were handled, how speeches were dissected, and how outrage was distributed. Instead of focusing on the enormity of a crime or the cruelty of an act, opponents and the press alike seemed more eager to point out hypocrisy. “Here is a man who once declared himself virtuous, and look now, he has betrayed his own words.” In such a system, the act itself—the destruction, the suffering—is secondary. The greatest sin in politics is not the deed, but the contradiction.
History gives us clear examples of this strange truth. When Richard Nixon fell in the Watergate scandal, much of the public outrage centered not only on the crime of abuse of power, but on the fact that he had publicly sworn loyalty to the law. It was his hypocrisy—his mask of virtue torn away—that inflamed the press and his rivals. Or consider Senator Gary Hart, whose presidential hopes collapsed in 1987. His affair might have been forgivable to some, but it was his denial, his self-righteous challenge to the press to “follow me around,” that made his hypocrisy more damning than the act itself. Here we see Greenfield’s truth: politics punishes contradiction even more than corruption.
The deeper meaning of Greenfield’s words is that political discourse often values performance over essence. A politician may commit terrible acts, but if they appear consistent with his image or rhetoric, they may not destroy him. Yet the moment he contradicts himself, the moment the mask slips, his enemies descend with fury. Why? Because politics is theater, and the greatest crime in theater is to break the illusion. To contradict oneself is to shatter the script the audience has been following, and once shattered, they may never forgive.
Yet this truth is not a defense of politicians, nor a condemnation of the press alone—it is a warning to the people. For when a society values consistency above morality, it risks becoming blind to true evil. If a man is consistently cruel, consistently unjust, consistently corrupt, but never contradicts himself, he may be tolerated, even admired as “honest” or “authentic.” But if a man falters once against his own words, he is cast out as a hypocrite. Greenfield unmasks this distortion, showing how it distracts us from the real question: not whether a politician has contradicted himself, but whether he has acted with justice.
The lesson for us, O listener, is clear and urgent: do not let yourself be seduced by the obsession with hypocrisy alone. Yes, hypocrisy reveals something about character, but it is not the essence of morality. Judge leaders not by whether they are consistent, but by whether they are good. Ask not whether they live up to their old words, but whether their deeds serve truth, compassion, and justice. A world that prizes consistency above virtue is a world that will excuse evil, so long as it wears the same mask every day.
As for practical action: when you listen to the words of politicians, do not measure them only against their past statements, but weigh them against eternal principles of justice and humanity. When the press or rivals shout “contradiction,” pause and ask instead: what is the true harm of the deed? What suffering has it caused? And in your own life, remember that while consistency is desirable, it is not the highest virtue. Growth often requires contradiction, and wisdom demands change. Strive not merely to be consistent, but to be just.
Thus, Meg Greenfield’s words endure as both satire and warning. “If a politician murders his mother…” she begins, not to describe murder, but to reveal how far politics strays from morality. Her voice reminds us that the true measure of leadership is not in the alignment of past and present words, but in the righteousness of present deeds. Let us not be blinded by hypocrisy alone, but let us keep our eyes fixed always on justice—for justice is the measure that endures.
NGNguyen Giang
Greenfield’s statement highlights an uncomfortable truth about the priorities of both the media and political opponents. When a politician does something egregious, the focus often shifts to how it relates to their past statements rather than the act itself. How much does this behavior contribute to a political environment where morality and personal responsibility are overlooked? What does this say about the nature of public accountability in today’s political system?
PTLe Phuong Thuy
This quote from Meg Greenfield brings to light a sharp criticism of how politicians are analyzed by the media. It’s as if the importance of their actions is secondary to their ability to maintain a coherent political narrative. Why does the media focus so much on past contradictions instead of the morality of the actions themselves? Are we more interested in political consistency than in holding leaders accountable for their behavior?
NTNgoc Tran
Greenfield’s quote exposes the absurdity of how political discourse often prioritizes past statements over real-world actions. The suggestion that a politician’s position on matricide might be scrutinized more than the act itself highlights how disconnected politics can be from ethical standards. Could this obsession with past records and political tactics be why public trust in politicians is so low? How do we refocus the conversation on real accountability and responsibility?
VVVanAnh Vu
Meg Greenfield’s quote illustrates a troubling reality about the way politicians and public figures are scrutinized. Rather than focusing on the gravity of their actions, the media and opponents often turn to the minutiae of past statements or inconsistencies. Does this mean that the press is more interested in the politics of a situation than the morality? How can we shift our focus to the ethical implications of actions rather than political strategy?