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Last month’s vote on the national emergency resolution gave me pause to think about courage. We admire those who display it and criticize those who don’t. We like to give a pat on the back to those who show courage under fire, whether it be combat or the pressures of the business world.

Show me someone who has been scorned in the news for a moral failure in business or politics, and I’ll show you plenty of people eager to display the thumbs down gesture of a Roman emperor at the gladiator games.

It’s so easy to be critical, especially from a distance.

Columnist Bret Stephens criticized 41 Republican senators who voted no on the national emergency resolution to block President Donald Trump from shifting already-allocated funds to his southern border wall project. They failed, as Stephens puts it, to stand up against presidential action they “know violates the separation of powers, tramples on their legislative prerogatives, makes a mockery of long-held conservative principles, and establishes a political precedent they will come to regret bitterly and soon.”

Stephens really hit hard on Nebraska’s Ben Sasse and North Carolina’s Thom Tillis. Both initially opposed the emergency declaration, but when it became clear their opposition was politically risky, they backed down. In Stephens’ words, “It’s remarkable how quickly principles become liquid when a Senate seat is at stake.”

The flip by Sasse and Tillis should be just the beginning of the conversation for the rest of us. The real question is, how would the rest of us act when our job, our future is on the line? I wonder how I would respond.  

I think back to the story of Randy “Duke” Cunningham, who served eight years in jail for bribery. Here’s somebody who, as my dad would have said, “had life by the ass.” Cunningham was a retired Navy fighter pilot and Vietnam War ace, who downed five MiGs. He was elected to Congress in 1991, where he served until he was convicted in 2005. 

Having a Navy pension, the fame that comes with being a war hero, and the generous salary paid to a congressman weren’t enough. Cunningham thought it was a good idea to take in $2.4 million in bribes.

A friend of mine and I sometimes talk about how we would respond if we had the kind of fame and power that always seems to accompany people who make the news for the wrong reason. I always wonder, “Weren’t some of these people choir boys back in the day? Maybe the sirens of money and power are just too hard to resist for the average human being.”

Would I have the courage to blow the whistle on a good friend if I knew he was engaged in something criminal? Would I be willing to stand on principle and pass up a large payday in exchange for looking the other way?  Would I be willing to suffer criticism and make the unpopular but right decision?

My friend assures me that if you’re grounded at the start, you’ll likely do the right thing later in life, no matter how great the temptations. He assures me I have nothing to worry about.

I hope my friend is right, but I’m too aware of my own frailties to take comfort in what he says.

My takeaway from stories about people like Sasse, Tillis and Cunningham? Rather than be critical of them, I’d rather pray I have the right stuff when the time comes.

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Jack D’Aurora writes for Considerthisbyjd.com

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