"They paid the ultimate price and we can never forget their sacrifice"
About this Quote
"They paid the ultimate price and we can never forget their sacrifice" is politics in its most practiced register: reverent, airtight, and almost impossible to argue with. The line does two things at once. It elevates the dead into a moral high ground ("ultimate price") and drafts the living into an ongoing obligation ("we can never forget"). That shift from "they" to "we" is the mechanism. It turns private loss into public duty, and it quietly asks for unity on terms the speaker gets to define.
The phrase "ultimate price" is deliberately vague, a euphemism polished by repetition. It spares the audience the mess of bodies, blood, and policy, replacing specifics with a clean ledger of cost and payment. "Sacrifice" completes the sanctification: whatever happened is framed as chosen, meaningful, and therefore less available for critique. The subtext is subtle but sturdy: if you question the war, the mission, the budget, or the leaders who sent people into danger, you risk sounding like you're discounting the sacrifice itself. Memory becomes a political shield.
Context matters. Coming from a contemporary politician, this language is most at home at memorial services, Veterans Day podiums, or moments when a government needs to reaffirm legitimacy after loss. It's not that the sentiment is fake; it's that the rhetoric is functional. It offers grief a script, offers the nation a story, and leaves the hardest questions - why the price was demanded, and who decided it was worth paying - carefully unasked.
The phrase "ultimate price" is deliberately vague, a euphemism polished by repetition. It spares the audience the mess of bodies, blood, and policy, replacing specifics with a clean ledger of cost and payment. "Sacrifice" completes the sanctification: whatever happened is framed as chosen, meaningful, and therefore less available for critique. The subtext is subtle but sturdy: if you question the war, the mission, the budget, or the leaders who sent people into danger, you risk sounding like you're discounting the sacrifice itself. Memory becomes a political shield.
Context matters. Coming from a contemporary politician, this language is most at home at memorial services, Veterans Day podiums, or moments when a government needs to reaffirm legitimacy after loss. It's not that the sentiment is fake; it's that the rhetoric is functional. It offers grief a script, offers the nation a story, and leaves the hardest questions - why the price was demanded, and who decided it was worth paying - carefully unasked.
Quote Details
| Topic | Legacy & Remembrance |
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