Liberalism is a religion. Its tenets cannot be proved, its

The words of David Mamet—“Liberalism is a religion. Its tenets cannot be proved, its capacity for waste and destruction demonstrated. But it affords a feeling of spiritual rectitude at little or no cost.”—are sharp, provocative, and born from the fire of disillusionment. They do not speak of liberalism merely as a political philosophy, but as a creed, a belief system that, in his view, functions with the zeal of faith but without the grounding of proof. In this statement, Mamet warns against the danger of ideology that promises virtue without sacrifice, righteousness without responsibility, and certainty without evidence.

The origin of this reflection is found in Mamet’s own personal journey. Once known for progressive sympathies, he later shifted his perspective, becoming critical of what he saw as the flaws of modern liberal thought. His description of liberalism as a religion suggests that, to him, it had ceased to be a rational framework for governance and had become instead a matter of blind faith, unquestioned by its adherents. By calling it a faith “at little or no cost,” he pointed to the ease with which some may claim moral superiority without bearing the burdens that true conviction requires.

History offers many parallels. Consider the downfall of the French Revolution, which began with cries for liberty, equality, and fraternity. What started as a movement grounded in noble ideals became, for many, a kind of secular religion. Its symbols, slogans, and rituals were treated with the fervor of faith. Yet in its zeal, it descended into the Reign of Terror, destroying lives in the name of purity. Mamet’s warning echoes here: that when ideology hardens into dogma, it can unleash both waste and destruction, even as it cloaks itself in the garments of virtue.

The statement also illuminates a deeper truth about the human soul: we crave the feeling of spiritual rectitude. We long to believe we are on the side of good, that our actions and affiliations give us moral worth. But when this longing is satisfied too cheaply—when virtue is claimed by words, slogans, or shallow gestures rather than by sacrifice and responsibility—it becomes hollow. True righteousness is costly; it demands endurance, courage, and often suffering. Any ideology that offers the sensation of moral greatness without these costs is, in Mamet’s view, a dangerous counterfeit.

Yet let us not misunderstand: Mamet’s words are not merely an attack on one political philosophy. They are a warning against any ideology—left, right, or otherwise—that becomes a surrogate religion, unchallenged and untested. For when people embrace political identity as their ultimate creed, they risk losing the humility to question, the wisdom to adapt, and the responsibility to bear the true weight of their convictions. Such unexamined faith is not a foundation but a mirage.

The lesson for us is powerful: beware of the temptation to embrace easy virtue. Whether in politics, religion, or daily life, do not mistake the feeling of righteousness for the reality of it. Test your beliefs, measure them by their fruits, and ask what they truly cost you. Do they demand courage, generosity, sacrifice? Or do they offer only the warm glow of superiority without the burden of responsibility? True principles are proven not by how loudly we proclaim them, but by how steadfastly we live them.

Practically, this means cultivating self-examination. Before condemning others or celebrating our own “rightness,” let us ask: am I truly serving justice, or merely seeking the comfort of appearing just? Am I bearing the cost of my convictions, or am I claiming the rewards without the labor? In such reflection lies wisdom, humility, and the possibility of genuine growth.

Thus, Mamet’s words endure as a fierce and unsettling reminder: ideology without cost is counterfeit virtue. The world is not changed by slogans or by borrowed righteousness, but by those willing to pay the price of truth. Let us then resist the seduction of easy rectitude and instead walk the harder path of tested conviction—where belief is not a mask, but a fire that refines both soul and society.