It will be about which candidate, which of the two candidates

In the words of Erskine Bowles, spoken in the heat of contest, we hear a cry older than the strife of that single election: "It will be about which candidate, which of the two candidates remaining, is best suited to make a positive difference in the lives of North Carolina families, and I submit to each of you tonight that I am that candidate and Elizabeth Dole is not." In this declaration, there lies the eternal struggle between service and ambition, between the guardian of the people and the one who would rule for glory’s sake. It is not merely about candidates, but about the soul of leadership itself.

The ancients too knew this battle. In the days of Rome, when Cincinnatus was called from his plow to defend the city, he did not boast of lineage, nor cloak himself in wealth. He said, in deed if not in word: judge me by the good I may bring to you, and not by the honors that may fall upon me. Likewise, Bowles places the measure not in the gleam of titles, but in the difference a ruler makes in the daily bread, the hearth, and the hope of the people.

This quote reminds us that politics, though draped in banners and speeches, is not about empty triumphs, but about families—the foundation of every polis, every republic, every nation. As a father shields his child, as a mother labors for her household, so too must a true leader take upon his shoulders the burdens of the people. Bowles proclaims: I am that man. In saying so, he invites judgment not on words alone, but on the fruits of his service.

Think of Abraham Lincoln, who entered debates and elections not with the pride of noble heritage, but with the scars of toil and the clarity of one who had walked among farmers and laborers. His question was the same as Bowles’s: Which of us will best serve the humble and the struggling? His answer was proven not by rhetoric but by emancipation, by preservation, by sacrifice.

Thus, the origin of the quote lies not only in the campaign against Elizabeth Dole in North Carolina, but in a river that flows through history: the river of public trust. To declare “I am the one” is to shoulder the burden of proof, to claim the path of the servant-warrior. To declare “my rival is not” is to warn of the dangers of misplaced faith. These words ring not as vanity, but as a covenant, a pledge before the people.

Let the future generations remember: in every election, in every choice of leaders, the true question is always the same. Who among us will bring forth life, justice, and hope for the families that form the beating heart of the land? Those who hear these words must not look at the name or the banner, but at the promise fulfilled in action. This is the teaching of Erskine Bowles’s cry, echoing with the voices of the ancients.