Many people ask me how it is possible that people seem unfazed by the grotesque criminal scandals surrounding their political leaders—and even continue to vote for them. In the most recent Czech elections, senior figures from one governing party were implicated in money laundering tied to the drug trade, child pornography, and possibly even contract killings. The leader of another ruling party was part of a mafia that stole billions of crowns and left at least five witnesses dead. Yet these two parties together received over forty percent of the vote.
How can this be? As is so often the case, the question itself rests on a misunderstanding of the broader situation.
If voters were like members of a selection committee, observing political parties as if they were contestants parading down a runway, then scandals would surely matter. A politician would have to display exceptional genius or leadership skill to make us forgive such offenses.
But our reality is entirely different. We live in an age of cold civil war. Politicians are no longer administrators or visionaries—they are commanders in a struggle between hostile tribes. And what happens when you learn that your commander is a corrupt criminal? You are angry, because he has damaged your cause. You might even wish to replace him, if that were possible. But you do not stop fighting. And you certainly do not cross over to the enemy camp.
The consequence is paradoxical but clear: politicians have learned that they can get away with almost anything, because moral scandal no longer carries political cost.
We should be careful not to confuse this with another, older form of indulgence toward corruption—one granted to charismatic leaders whose personal magnetism inspires near-religious devotion. Their followers will forgive anything but failure. Yet such figures no longer exist in our time. Today’s leaders survive not because they inspire love or loyalty, but because they belong to a side that fears annihilation if it ever shows weakness.