Political pundits and the press are an unforgiving lot. Every scandal is greeted by absolute moral judgments and righteous calls for the political equivalent of the death penalty. It turns out, however, that voters are more nuanced and more forgiving, after a little time passes. We're testing that proposition right now, in South Carolina and in New York City.
Other than fashionable slenderness, Anthony Weiner and Mark Sanford have little in common. Sanford is a hard-right Republican from South Carolina; Weiner is a brash left Democrat from Brooklyn. Both self-deported from successful political careers for what we will call, in a family newspaper, personal excesses. You know what I mean.
Both have also launched comeback bids, Sanford as the winner of the Republican line in a congressional special election, and Weiner as a potential late entry in the New York City mayoral race. Both seem to be prospering.
These are rich sources of giggling and winking to be sure. But once that phase is passed, there is an interesting human and political dynamic at stake. What importance do Americans place on forgiveness and mercy in public life?
The answer is that American voters are quite willing to forgive and forget — with caveats.
It's harder to make a comeback if you're a thief, easier if you are a philanderer. That may be because voters think of themselves as the victims of theft, while the philanderers' family suffers from personal peccadilloes.
Or it may be that fewer people steal than engage in, you know what. In any event, voters seem more ready to listen to certain kind of wrongdoers than others.
You can't be forgiven unless you ask for forgiveness. This makes perfect sense and we all have experienced this in our daily lives. No one is entitled to a second chance. It's got to be asked for and earned.
Public sinners, though, are required to make declarations of their failures, to look apologetic, and to disappear for a time. The support of the wronged spouse does not seem necessary. Mrs. Weiner stood by her man, Mrs. Sanford not so much.
Keep reminding people about what they used to like about you. Sanford became popular on the backs of the traditional right-wing Republican ponies, tax and spending cuts and social conservatism. He will have an easier time on the fiscal stuff, but given the South Carolina electorate he has a record he can talk about.
Weiner doesn't have Sandford's moral hypocrisy problem, and is remembered for his infinite repetitions of the phrase middle class before Obama made it a national mantra. Both men have carefully restated these themes, and people are listening.
The deeper significance of all this rests in the genuinely forgiving nature of the American people. We are quick and severe in initial reaction. From the recent Rutgers basketball scandal, to Bill Clinton's impeachment, to Nixon and Watergate, to Eliot Spitzer, we saw howls for banishment and punishment.
In due course, a sense of proportionality emerges and we show a willingness to balance the good against the bad. This may just be a pragmatic assessment of what a candidate can do for me. More likely, it's a willingness to accept human error as inevitable and forgivable.
That's as it should be. Great leaders, religious and secular, keep reminding us of the power of forgiveness and mercy. If Nelson Mandela can accept his jailers, and Jesus can forgive his murderers, than maybe there's a place in government for Sanford or Weiner.
Richard Brodsky, a former state assemblyman from Westchester County, is a fellow at the Demos think tank in New York City and at the Wagner School at New York University.
