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I’ve spent the last 24 hours watching people argue over the “right” way to respond to the death of Senator Lindsey Graham. Some believe we should only speak well of the dead. Others believe we should celebrate his passing because of the harm they believe he caused. Neither response feels complete to me.
I recently came across a quote that I haven’t been able to stop thinking about: “Death deserves dignity. Legacy requires scrutiny.”
Those two ideas are not in conflict.
Lindsey Graham was part of South Carolina’s political landscape for nearly my entire life. Whether you supported him or opposed him, he helped define an era of politics in our state. When I served on Columbia City Council, I experienced another side of his legacy. His office worked with ours to help secure federal resources for our community — from infrastructure projects to support for our first responders. Even many of his critics acknowledged that his constituent service was exceptional.
And yet, I also understand why so many people are angry.
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I understand why many believe his national legacy will be defined by the causes he opposed, the positions he took on immigration and foreign policy, and his loyalty to President Trump during some of the most divisive moments in our country’s history. Those aren’t feelings that disappear because someone dies. And I don’t think they should.
I’ve heard people—many in my own party—ask why we’re expected to praise public figures who spent years fighting against values we care deeply about. Why should death erase the consequences of a public record? I think that’s a fair question.
But, to be clear, I don’t believe honesty requires flattery. And I definitely don’t believe dignity requires revisionist history.
We shouldn’t rewrite someone’s record because they’ve died. If they abused power, history should say so. If they showed courage, history should say so. If they delivered for their constituents, history should say that too.
I’m not interested in eulogizing politicians. I’m interested in telling the truth about them. Because one of the hardest truths about public life is this: you don’t get to write the final version of your own story. History does.
You can spend years managing your image. You can hire the best consultants. You can craft the perfect speeches and try to control the narrative. Eventually, all of that fades. What’s left are your choices.
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The people you helped. The people you hurt. The causes you stood for. The consequences of your decisions.
History doesn’t owe any of us a sanitized version of our lives. It remembers the full record. As someone who has held elected office, I find that both humbling and motivating. Every vote. Every statement. Every compromise. Every moment of courage—or the lack of it, becomes part of a story someone else will eventually tell. None of us gets to edit that story after we’re gone. But there’s another part of this that I’ve been wrestling with.
Over the past hours, I’ve seen people across the political spectrum, elected or not, openly celebrating Lindsey Graham’s death. “Good riddance.” Jokes. Victory laps.
I understand the anger. I do not understand celebrating death. Not because public figures deserve protection from criticism – they don’t. Accountability is part of leadership. But because I worry about what it says about us. The next generation who deserves to be at the table passing the very policies that will affect our families.
If our politics teach us that the death of someone we disagree with is a cause for celebration, what kind of country are we becoming? And if that’s the standard we’re inheriting, what hope do those of us stepping into leadership have of building something better?
For those of us in my generation — including myself — this feels like a turning point.
Not because one generation has willingly stepped aside. Sometimes these moments come through elections. Sometimes through retirement. Sometimes because life makes the decision for us. Whatever the reason, the responsibility eventually becomes ours.
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The question is whether we’ll simply inherit the same political culture — or have the courage to reject it.
Because I don’t think my generation, or the one coming after us, can survive another few decades of politics fueled by contempt, cruelty, and the belief that our opponents are less than human. We don’t have to lower our standards to participate in politics. We don’t have to celebrate someone’s death to prove our convictions. And we don’t have to pretend someone was a hero just because they’ve died.
We can tell the truth.
We can acknowledge service without ignoring harm. We can criticize a legacy without celebrating a death. We can choose honesty over hero worship and humanity over hatred.
Maybe that’s what this moment is asking of us – not to agree on Lindsey Graham’s legacy, but to decide what kind of legacy we want to leave ourselves. Because one day, history will tell our story too.
I hope it can say that we disagreed fiercely, held one another accountable, and still refused to lose our humanity along the way.
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ABOUT THE AUTHOR…
Dr. Aditi Bussells is rooted in South Carolina, she talks on community, public health, and politics through real life. A self-described Peak millennial balancing work, relationships, and motherhood in the South.
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