Political leadership is a continuum with some praiseworthy high performers; a whole lot of rather average, good-enough folks; and then the inevitable gallery of loathsome bottom-feeders who tarnish the whole breed.

As we seek more politicos with the character and capability to rise above, it can be instructive to look at the other end of the spectrum and study those who came on the scene with the capacity to do good, but succumbed to deep-seeded internal flaws and their own worst instincts.

With that in mind, I present from recent headlines a rogue’s quartet of political lowlife — one governor and three senators who represent the depths of bad judgment and bad behavior.

Batting leadoff is New York Gov. Andrew Cuomo, heir to the throne once occupied by his father. When he led the Empire State three decades ago, Mario Cuomo spoke with moral clarity and virtuous uplift. The son, conversely, governs as a bully with a heavy dose of entitlement. As if an exclamation point was needed as to the ethical edge on which Cuomo the younger operates, he is now the subject of multiple, credible charges of sexual harassment. 

Notoriously thin-skinned, Andrew Cuomo reacts to even mild criticism as if it were a four-alarm fire. If Donald Trump, back in the day, was famous for middle-of-the-night Twitter storms, Cuomo and his staff are known for early morning threatening phone calls to reporters and editors who dare criticize his majesty.

Early during the COVID pandemic, Cuomo mesmerized some with his take-charge, Power-Point-heavy, an-answer-for-everything daily briefings. Hollywood elites were so enamored that they awarded Cuomo an Emmy – the Founder’s Award given annually to an individual or group that, “Crosses cultural boundaries to touch our common humanity.” How very beautiful; I am all verklempt.

Of course, months later, we know that this performance art masked the skyrocketing death toll inside New York’s nursing homes. Predictably enough, Cuomo’s response to the revelations has included an abundance of bluster and intimidation. Democratic Assemblyman Ron Kim, who had asked tough questions, reported receiving a patented Cuomo phone call in which the governor talked of his wrath and ability to destroy. “No man has ever spoken to me like that in my entire life,” Kim recounted.

Above all, Cuomo has proven the point as to the danger of third terms. Talent departs; agendas grow stale; arrogance escalates; bad habits become ever more pronounced.

Moving from the statehouse to the U.S. Senate, next up is Missouri’s Josh Hawley. No one doubts his brainpower or his consuming ambition.

But for Hawley, true north is found with a game show spinning wheel. His moral compass, to the extent it exists, always points in the direction of the loudest voices in his party’s base.

His is a golden pedigree — a degree from Stanford, a law degree from Yale; clerkships with esteemed constitutional conservatives Michael McConnell of the Tenth Circuit Court of Appeals and then Chief Justice John Roberts.

When stupid people do stupid things, it is predictable. When smart people engage in dumb exercises, it is contemptible. That will be Hawley’s sad political epitaph, that he knew better. It applies to his leading the challenge to the certification of the electoral college vote; to the raised power fist he flashed to the crowd assembling on Jan. 6, and to his insolent retreat to the Senate balcony where he disdainfully carried out his role as an impeachment juror with feet up.

Then you have the sad and curious case of South Carolina’s Lindsey Graham.

Never has someone in high office seemed so constantly desperate for affirmation and approval. Graham certainly has traveled some distance. Not just the miles he accumulated as John McCain’s ever-loyal sidekick and wingman, but then in transferring that affection following McCain’s death to none other than the guy, President Trump, who had mercilessly mocked his former best pal.

Maybe Graham has listened too many times to the song from the Hamilton soundtrack, The Room Where It Happens. He badly wants to be inside. But one gets the sense that his lot is to stand along the wall, staring and fawning.

Or perhaps the Graham enigma has far more to do with psychology than politics. His story can be found under the heading of “Daddy issues.” Graham is regularly seeking approval from any father figure who will bestow it.

In the cleanup position, to no one’s surprise, is Texas’s own Ted Cruz, no matter if that loyalty was unreturned in the state’s hour of need.

Credit here to the Washington Post’s Ashley Parker for the best lead sentence of a political article in quite some time. Writing of Cruz’s ill-considered jaunt south of the border, Parker began, “Usually, it takes at least one full day in Cancun to do something embarrassing you’ll never live down.”

Like his buddy-cum-competitor Hawley, Cruz, too, suffers no shortage of brain cells. But intellect and calculation are not everything; they may not even be the most important things. Cruz operates from a deficit position when it comes to moral bearings and boundaries as well as any kind of common touch. He is a man largely without friends either across the Senate aisle or even among his fellow Republicans.

Former U.S. Sen. Al Franken had perhaps the most telling line. In Franken’s customary tongue-in-cheek form, he wrote, “I like Ted Cruz more than most of my other colleagues like Ted Cruz. And I hate Ted Cruz.”

Smarts are a political asset. Far better to have more than less. But they are not a substitute for backbone and decency. All of which are Cruz’s terminal political shortcomings.

Cruz’s shocking misjudgment and misadventure in Cancun were so devastating because the whole thing was so consistent with his me-first character. And because he had no reservoir of goodwill to fall back upon and few allies to rally to his defense. As is often said in jest, it couldn’t happen to a nicer guy.

There you go — four contemporary figures to define the political bottom. May their dreadful deficiencies illuminate the path to a far higher standard of leadership.