"Politics, it seems to me, for years, or all too long, has been concerned with right or left instead of right or wrong"
About this Quote
Richard Armour, a midcentury American humorist, twists the word right to point at a deeper failure in public life: partisan direction has eclipsed moral direction. Right and left are coordinates on a political map, useful shorthand born from the seating chart of the French Revolution. Right and wrong are measures of conscience, prudence, and justice. Armour mourns the substitution, suggesting that loyalty to a side has become more urgent than loyalty to the truth.
The cadence of his line matters. For years, or all too long, mimics a sigh, a comic hesitation that softens the rebuke but does not blunt it. As a writer of light verse, he smuggles a serious ethical claim inside wordplay: when political identity hardens into team colors, the incentives shift from solving problems to scoring points. Policies are judged not by whom they help or harm, but by whether they advance the tribe. Debate becomes performance; evidence becomes a prop.
Armour’s quip also challenges the false comfort of the left-right spectrum. Many questions do not map neatly onto a single axis. Prudence can live with compassion; fiscal caution can pair with social solidarity. To insist that every issue be sorted immediately into left or right is to preempt thinking. By restoring right and wrong as the primary test, he urges a return to first principles: honesty about costs and tradeoffs, care for the vulnerable, accountability for power, and a willingness to change one’s mind when facts or ethics demand it.
The line endures because it names a permanent temptation in democratic life. Partisanship can be a tool for organizing and governing, but when it becomes an identity, it colonizes judgment. Armour’s humor offers a corrective: laugh at the habit of reflexive alignment, then do the harder work of asking whether a position is not just politically convenient, but genuinely just.
The cadence of his line matters. For years, or all too long, mimics a sigh, a comic hesitation that softens the rebuke but does not blunt it. As a writer of light verse, he smuggles a serious ethical claim inside wordplay: when political identity hardens into team colors, the incentives shift from solving problems to scoring points. Policies are judged not by whom they help or harm, but by whether they advance the tribe. Debate becomes performance; evidence becomes a prop.
Armour’s quip also challenges the false comfort of the left-right spectrum. Many questions do not map neatly onto a single axis. Prudence can live with compassion; fiscal caution can pair with social solidarity. To insist that every issue be sorted immediately into left or right is to preempt thinking. By restoring right and wrong as the primary test, he urges a return to first principles: honesty about costs and tradeoffs, care for the vulnerable, accountability for power, and a willingness to change one’s mind when facts or ethics demand it.
The line endures because it names a permanent temptation in democratic life. Partisanship can be a tool for organizing and governing, but when it becomes an identity, it colonizes judgment. Armour’s humor offers a corrective: laugh at the habit of reflexive alignment, then do the harder work of asking whether a position is not just politically convenient, but genuinely just.
Quote Details
| Topic | Ethics & Morality |
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