A Man for All Seasons

Do we possess the fortitude to weather the seasons, or are we content to simply ride the currents?

Sir Thomas More

I recently took a two-week class on the proper role of federal judges in the American system. My professor—a retired judge himself—began by showing us A Man for All Seasons. I had never watched it before, since I have an instinctive dislike for movies with sad endings. But it made a remarkable impression all the same. It tells the story of Thomas More, Henry VIII’s chancellor, who first refused to condone the king’s divorce from Catherine of Aragon and then refused to swear an oath affirming Henry’s primacy over the English church. More obstructed the king only because his conscience demanded it. In the end, it cost him his life. 

It is hard for us to imagine a political society like Henry VIII’s England (though it has not yet fled the world—a Russian might recognize it!). We might sometimes wonder whether, faced with a choice like More’s, we would stick to our beliefs or instead give in, as almost all More’s contemporaries did. But the hypothetical is a distant one, for political courage in the United States hardly ever produces death. Maybe there are rare exceptions, like Abraham Lincoln’s assassination or Martin Luther King’s. But our political freedoms are so firmly grounded that a choice of obedience or death seems hardly more than idle speculation. 

And so, for the most part, it seemed to me—until recently, as I watched excerpts of Donald Trump’s post-New Hampshire victory speech. Trump shared the stage with two of his former primary challengers: Vivek Ramaswamy and Tim Scott. (Doug Burgum campaigned with him a few days earlier.) Trump agreed to let Ramaswamy speak if he promised “to do it in a minute or less.” Later, he turned to Scott, who had endorsed Trump over Nikki Haley. “You’re the senator of her state,” he said. “You must really hate her.” Scott, who spent much of the speech standing directly behind Trump, ducking from side to side to get a little camera time, gave a big smile: “I just love you!” It was a humiliating moment. The groveling continued on social media, where Marco Rubio, Ted Cruz, and other GOP bigwigs dutifully fell in line with hyper-enthusiastic endorsements. Never mind that Rubio once condemned Trump as a “con man,” “embarrassment,” and a cousin of “third-world strongmen.” 

Some of these GOP mainstays reminded me of the Duke of Norfolk, More’s longtime friend, who eventually joined the King. Norfolk doesn’t like Henry very much but can’t comprehend More’s obstinacy. All the nobles, the proud ones, have given in, Norfolk tells More. Can’t More do the same—“for fellowship”? “We’ve all given in! Why must you stand out?” The king may be temperamental, silly, and cruel, but in the end, he’s the king, and it’s not worth defying him. England needs unity, and a man needs to live. The truth is a nice thing as far as it goes, but it goes only so far. 

Much of the GOP leadership doesn’t like Trump, especially the old guard. But there’s a government to be run, an election to be won, and senators like Cruz and Rubio suppose they can use a second Trump term to notch a few conservative policy wins—even at the price of a little groveling and lying. Norfolk thought he could help England, too, by going along with Henry, but the King knew his secret leanings, forcing him to preside at More’s trial and condemn his friend to death in a test of loyalty. Norfolk himself later escaped the headsman only because Henry died before the day of execution. Senators who think they can use Trump at the cost of a little humiliation have it backwards: Trump will use them. 

Other Trump cheerleaders remind me not of Norfolk, but Richard Rich, an ambitious young office-seeker. More recognizes his flawed character and refuses to help him secure a spot at court. Instead, he suggests Rich should become a teacher. “You’d be a fine teacher. Perhaps a great one.” That sounds far too obscure, Rich thinks: “If I was, who would know it?” So instead, Rich becomes a hanger-on of Thomas Cromwell, an influential, unscrupulous advisor to the king. Cromwell rewards loyalty. He offers Rich a handsome reward—if only the young man will perjure himself to secure More’s conviction. When Rich has finished testifying, More sees he is wearing a chain of office emblazoned with the red dragon of Wales. “What’s this?” he asks Cromwell. “Sir Richard is appointed Attorney-General for Wales,” Cromwell answers. More looks Rich in the eyes: “For Wales? Why, Richard, it profits a man nothing to give his soul for the whole world. . . But for Wales!”

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Ramaswamy, Scott, Burgum (and so many others, like J.D. Vance) are not idiots. They know that Trump is a petty, evil man who cares not a whit for our nation, our Constitution, or our allies. But they’re ambitious. They want cabinet posts. They want to be vice president. So they will say and do anything they must say and do, even to the point of transparently debasing and humiliating themselves, for the sake of advancement. They will sell their souls for a little power. 

But Rich’s temptation is not confined to the high and mighty. It is most acute for ambitious young conservatives—perhaps especially for young, conservative law students, like me. Probably, I could have a job in a second Trump administration if I wanted it (though not after publishing this article), and so could many of my peers. All it takes is a habit of genuflection. A small price for success, isn’t it? 

The price is not so small as it seems. Here’s what most confuses me about Scott, and his many young emulators: ordinarily, politicians seek honor, glory, greatness. Like Rich, they fear obscurity, and I sympathize with that fear. A desire for greatness is not always a bad thing—ambition, though a dangerous master, may prove an excellent servant and may be channeled to good deeds. But no one ever gains honor or glory by cowardice or groveling! Rich ended up as solicitor-general of England and died in his bed. But has anyone heard of Richard Rich? Does anyone hold him up as a hero? It is the man he killed who is today honored far and wide in the legal world (he is even the Catholic patron saint of lawyers), while Rich, at best, counts as a sniveling coward. Why ruin your legacy for a little temporary power? 

That’s the utilitarian reason to avoid soul-selling—the reason it’s silly to accept Wales in exchange for honor. But it profits a man or woman nothing to accept even the whole world: Rich would be wrong even if he could purchase glory and renown. Cowardice is bad because it is cowardly. Lying is bad because it deceives. Sniveling displays of subservience are dishonorable and contemptible on their own terms. Great Americans are those who will not bend the knee to power, who maintain their freedom, their allegiance to the Constitution, and their belief in American honor against all pressure and temptation. It is only because of their courage that our nation has never fallen to the tyranny of another Henry, and does not yet punish bravery by death. Be brave while courage is cheap.

Jonathan Meilaender is a JD candidate at Harvard Law and is concurrently engaged in a Master’s program in German and European studies at Georgetown University. He received his BA in Politics from Saint Vincent College where he was also Editor-in-Chief of the Saint Vincent College Review. @JMeilaender