The beauty of a strong, lasting commitment is often best

The words of Murray Kempton resound with paradox and irony: “The beauty of a strong, lasting commitment is often best understood by men incapable of it.” Here, he touches upon a profound truth of human nature—that often, those who cannot achieve or sustain a virtue are the ones who most vividly recognize its power. The man who flees from commitment, who cannot anchor his heart or honor his word, may nonetheless look upon the loyalty of others with awe, as though beholding a treasure forever out of reach.

The origin of this quote lies in Kempton’s gift as a journalist and social commentator. He was a man who studied society with sharp eyes, often exposing contradictions in human behavior. In this case, he speaks to the tension between desire and ability, between recognizing the nobility of commitment yet lacking the discipline or courage to embody it. It is the same irony as the thirsty man who praises the sweetness of water yet never takes a drink.

The ancients also knew this truth. In the tales of Homer, we see men who praise fidelity yet fall prey to temptation. Consider Paris of Troy: he admired the steadfast bond of Hector and Andromache, yet he himself betrayed trust by stealing away Helen, bringing ruin upon his people. He was incapable of commitment, yet perhaps in his heart he knew more clearly than most the beauty of the loyalty he lacked. For it is often in our failures that we perceive, most sharply, the greatness of what we cannot hold.

History, too, gives us striking examples. Lord Byron, the Romantic poet, lived a life of passions and fleeting loves. He wrote with intensity about loyalty, honor, and eternal devotion, yet in his own life, he could not bind himself to one love or one cause for long. Still, his verses about devotion remain some of the most powerful ever penned. This is the essence of Kempton’s observation: those who are incapable of lasting commitment may still be its most eloquent admirers, precisely because they see it as something shining beyond their grasp.

This truth carries a note of tragedy, for it shows how human beings often live divided lives. We praise what we cannot embody; we admire what we cannot hold; we speak most beautifully of virtues we fail to master. And yet, there is also something noble in this recognition. For to admire commitment, even when incapable of it, is to acknowledge that it is higher, more beautiful, more enduring than our weaker impulses. It is to honor, if not to live, the truth.

The lesson for us is clear: let us not be content merely to admire the strength of others from afar. If we see the beauty of commitment, let us strive to live it. If we find ourselves incapable, let us not remain so, but discipline our hearts and wills to grow stronger. For commitment is not born only of natural disposition; it is forged by patience, sacrifice, and the daily decision to remain steadfast.

Practical action lies within reach: cultivate small acts of commitment in daily life. Be faithful to promises, however small. Stand by your friends when it is inconvenient. Keep to the path you have chosen, even when it is difficult. These practices shape the soul so that, when greater commitments are demanded—marriage, parenthood, service, or devotion to a cause—you will not only admire them from afar, but embody them fully.

So let us carry Kempton’s wisdom: the beauty of commitment shines brightest to those who lack it—but greater still is the life of the one who lives it. Let us not stop at admiration but rise into action, so that our words and our deeds are united, and so that we may pass on to future generations not only praise for fidelity, but the living example of it.