"If it is committed in the name of God or country, there is no crime so heinous that the public will not forgive it"
About this Quote
Robbins is taking a scalpel to the two most reliable alibis in public life: God and country. The line isn’t just anti-piety or anti-patriotism; it’s an indictment of how quickly moral judgment gets outsourced to a sacred label. Once an act is framed as service to a higher cause, the usual ethics get demoted to procedural quibbles. The “heinous” isn’t hyperbole so much as a stress test: if even the worst can be laundered by sanctified rhetoric, then the problem isn’t a few bad actors. It’s a cultural permission structure.
The subtext is about storytelling. “Committed in the name of” points to the way violence and corruption are sold, not merely done. Naming becomes a kind of moral disinfectant, converting cruelty into duty, conquest into defense, suppression into purity. Robbins’ real target is the public’s appetite for that conversion: the relieved feeling of belonging to something larger, the narcotic comfort of certainty, the pleasure of having enemies pre-selected.
Context matters: Robbins comes out of a late-20th-century American moment steeped in Vietnam-era disillusionment, culture-war moralizing, and a media ecosystem that can turn atrocity into spectacle or “necessary sacrifice” with a few well-placed flags and prayers. The wit is in the absolutism: “no crime so heinous.” It’s a dare to the reader’s civic self-image. If you think you’d never forgive the unforgivable, he’s asking: under what banner have you already done it?
The subtext is about storytelling. “Committed in the name of” points to the way violence and corruption are sold, not merely done. Naming becomes a kind of moral disinfectant, converting cruelty into duty, conquest into defense, suppression into purity. Robbins’ real target is the public’s appetite for that conversion: the relieved feeling of belonging to something larger, the narcotic comfort of certainty, the pleasure of having enemies pre-selected.
Context matters: Robbins comes out of a late-20th-century American moment steeped in Vietnam-era disillusionment, culture-war moralizing, and a media ecosystem that can turn atrocity into spectacle or “necessary sacrifice” with a few well-placed flags and prayers. The wit is in the absolutism: “no crime so heinous.” It’s a dare to the reader’s civic self-image. If you think you’d never forgive the unforgivable, he’s asking: under what banner have you already done it?
Quote Details
| Topic | Ethics & Morality |
|---|---|
| Source | Help us find the source |
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