There is no man more dangerous, in a position of power, than he

The words of Ida Tarbell—“There is no man more dangerous, in a position of power, than he who refuses to accept as a working truth the idea that all a man does should make for rightness and soundness, that even the fixing of a tariff rate must be moral.”—ring like a warning bell to all who would lead. In them, she declares that power without morality is not merely flawed, but deadly. For authority divorced from rightness is authority untethered, capable of reshaping laws, policies, and destinies in ways that corrode the very soul of a nation. Even in matters that seem mundane—such as tariffs, trade, or taxation—the moral compass must guide. Without it, injustice creeps in quietly, like a serpent in tall grass.

The origin of these words lies in Tarbell’s own life as a pioneering journalist of the Progressive Era, who unmasked the corruption of great monopolies. She witnessed firsthand how industrial giants, intoxicated with power, manipulated markets, bent laws, and influenced politics with no concern for fairness or justice. Their decisions, cloaked as mere business, affected millions—workers crushed in poverty, small businesses ruined, communities destabilized. She saw clearly that decisions dressed in technical language were never neutral; they were either moral or immoral. Thus, she proclaimed: even in economics, morality must reign.

History furnishes us with examples of the peril she describes. Consider the downfall of the Roman Republic. Senators and rulers, once sworn to uphold the res publica—the common good—began to wield power for personal gain. Laws were twisted, taxes levied unjustly, and the wealth of the empire concentrated in the hands of a few. The refusal to treat governance as a moral act hollowed the Republic from within, until Caesar’s rise made monarchy inevitable. The Romans learned too late that immorality in administration is no less dangerous than corruption on the battlefield.

On the other hand, when leaders have treated governance as a moral responsibility, the fruits have been lasting. Abraham Lincoln, faced with the complexities of tariffs, war finance, and reconstruction, weighed each policy against the measure of rightness. He knew that even decisions wrapped in technical jargon must ultimately answer the question: does this serve justice, or does it deepen injustice? His moral compass did not simplify his burdens, but it gave them integrity. Thus, even in division and war, he became a symbol of soundness.

The danger Tarbell warns against is subtle. A ruler or official may cloak himself in respectability, boasting of efficiency, of progress, of technical skill. But if he has rejected the idea that his decisions must also be moral, he becomes more dangerous than an open tyrant. For he may appear as a reformer, yet act as a corrupter. He may pass laws that seem neutral, yet hollow out the lives of the vulnerable. His danger lies not in ignorance, but in the deliberate refusal to measure his power against truth.

The lesson is plain: power must always be yoked to morality. No decision is too small to escape the demand for rightness. Even the fixing of a tariff, the signing of a bill, the drafting of a policy—these must be done with justice in mind, for they shape the lives of men and women who cannot sit at the table of power. Leadership is not merely administration; it is stewardship, accountable not only to people, but to conscience, to history, and to God.

Therefore, take these actions: if you lead, weigh every decision against the measure of justice. If you follow, demand of your leaders not only competence but morality. Train your own heart to remember that your choices, great and small, affect the lives of others. Ask yourself: does what I do make for rightness and soundness, or does it feed corruption? For as Tarbell teaches, the most dangerous man is the one who casts aside morality in the exercise of power. Guard against him, and more importantly, guard against becoming him.