We would all like to vote for the best man but he is never a

The words of Kin Hubbard, humorist and philosopher of plain speech, strike with wry sadness: “We would all like to vote for the best man but he is never a candidate.” Beneath the jest lies a grim truth about politics—that the noblest, wisest, and most just often shrink from its brutal arena, leaving the stage to the ambitious, the cunning, or the vain. What the people desire most—a leader of integrity—too often remains absent, for such men and women are rarely drawn to the clamor of power.

The ancients lamented the same fate. Plato, in his Republic, declared that the best rulers are those least desirous of ruling, for their virtue lies not in hunger for power but in love of justice. Yet these very souls, unwilling to endure intrigue, deception, and flattery, seldom step forward as candidates. Thus the polis is left to choose among those who crave authority rather than those most fit to wield it. Hubbard’s humor conceals this ancient sorrow: that democracy longs for its best, yet seldom receives them.

Consider the tale of Cincinnatus, the Roman farmer who was called from his plow to save the Republic. He led with brilliance, defeated Rome’s enemies, and then returned to his fields rather than cling to office. He was the “best man”—but he was no candidate, for his greatness lay in his refusal to grasp power. History reveres him because he did what the ambitious never do: relinquish authority for the sake of the common good.

Hubbard’s words also expose the tragedy of public expectation. The people yearn for honesty, for courage, for wisdom; yet the machinery of elections rewards the art of persuasion, wealth, and compromise. The true sage, who speaks plainly and seeks no favor, is drowned out by the louder voices of opportunists. Thus, the citizens dream of voting for the best, while knowing deep within that he or she will not appear upon the ballot.

Let the generations remember: the fault lies not only in the candidates, but in the system itself. Politics often repels the virtuous, while drawing the ambitious like moths to flame. Kin Hubbard’s jest is therefore a warning—that if society truly desires the best leaders, it must create conditions where the good can serve without losing themselves, where the wise are protected from corruption, and where service, not ambition, is the highest prize. For until then, the best man may live among us—but he will never be a candidate.