On the curious habit of measuring ethics by who is trying it on.

Every political scandal brings two pieces of news. The first is about those who manage power. The second is about how the rest of us measure it.

Faced with questionable conduct, many of us believe we hold principles. But if we look more closely, what we carry in our pocket may be something else: a tailor's measuring tape. And not just one. Several.

One for our opponents. Another for our own side. And a third, considerably more flexible, for ourselves.

In moral matters, sometimes we do not judge. We tailor.

The narrow tape

If the person belongs to the opposing side, we use the narrow tape. A lunch becomes evidence. A phone call, a plot. A friendship, a network of favours. A poor explanation, a confession.

And sometimes we are right. There is conduct that does not need much fabric to be indefensible.

The generous tape

The problem begins when the same kind of act enters the fitting room of our own side.

There the narrow tape vanishes with admirable discretion. Where there was a crooked seam, now there is complexity. Where there was a tear, it is best to wait. Where there was a stain, political instrumentalisation appears.

“What about them, though?” is especially useful. It does not mend the tear or clean the stain; it points to other tears and other stains. It does not sew. It compares.

The suit of silence

There is a third suit, perhaps the most comfortable. It is worn at lunches, in groups, in forums, in chats and in corridors where several people can see that the jacket does not close, but no one wants to be the first to say so.

Not all silence is cowardice. Sometimes it is prudence; other times, a lack of information. But there are also silences that are fear, neatly pressed: fear of causing discomfort, of being placed on a side, of having our own side look at us as if we had switched tailors.

The cost appears little by little. What seemed unacceptable yesterday begins to seem “normal” to us.

Why we tailor like this

It would be convenient to reduce it all to hypocrisy. It is probably more human and more complicated.

A cause, a party or an identity can stop being something we hold and become something we feel we are. Then criticism of nearby conduct is experienced as a personal threat. Add to that an ecosystem perfect for selective outrage: networks, media and algorithms able to show us the opponent's tears in high definition and our own from a rather more flattering angle.

We write this and recognise ourselves. We have used the narrow tape with satisfaction and the generous one with relief. We have kept silences that had less of prudence in them than of comfort.

A single tape

We do not need a cruel measuring tape or a morality without context. Context matters. Evidence matters. Proportionality matters. What should not change is the standard simply because the name of the person acting has changed.

A simple exercise can help: flip the label. Before closing a judgement, imagine that exactly the same facts involve someone from the opposite side. If our assessment changes too much, perhaps we are measuring the label more than the conduct.

And there remains the most uncomfortable exercise: starting at home. Applying also to our own side — and to ourselves — the standard we demand when we look across the aisle.

The same conduct, the same tape. Context, evidence and nuance will come afterwards. But the measuring tape should be the same.