If Politics Is Public Service, Why Doesn't Any Child Dream of Becoming a Politician?
If politics is the highest form of public service, why doesn't any child proudly say, "I want to be a politician"? A thought-provoking read on power, accountability, and the questions society avoids asking.
6/1/20262 min read
Think about it for a moment.
When a child is asked, "What do you want to be when you grow up?", the answers are predictable.
A doctor.
An engineer.
A teacher.
A scientist.
An IAS officer.
But how often do you hear a child confidently say,
"I want to become a politician."
Almost never.
And that should concern us.
Because politicians repeatedly tell us that they are the servants of the people. They claim to be building the nation, shaping its future, and leading it toward greatness. They enjoy power, prestige, security, influence, generous salaries, and privileges that most citizens can only dream of.
If politics is truly the noblest form of public service, then why don't parents aspire to see their children enter it?
Why do families proudly say, "My son will become a doctor," or "My daughter will become a civil servant," but rarely, if ever, say, "My child will become a politician"?
The answer may be uncomfortable, but it is impossible to ignore.
Respect cannot be demanded. It must be earned.
And somewhere along the way, politics has developed a reputation that many citizens admire from a distance but hesitate to embrace personally.
The irony is striking.
For many jobs in this country, qualifications are mandatory. To become a teacher, you need training. To become a doctor, you need years of education. To become an engineer, you need technical expertise. Even for many entry-level government positions, specific educational standards are required.
Yet when it comes to those who make laws, shape policies, control budgets, and influence the lives of millions, the public rarely discusses what standards, qualifications, or accountability mechanisms should exist.
Why?
Why is this conversation treated as controversial?
Why do we freely question teachers, officers, journalists, and judges, but become uncomfortable when the discussion turns toward politicians?
Perhaps because power has a way of discouraging scrutiny.
Or perhaps because too many people have convinced themselves that asking difficult questions is somehow an act of disloyalty.
It is not.
In a democracy, asking questions is not rebellion.
It is responsibility.
A nation does not become stronger when citizens remain silent. It becomes stronger when citizens are informed, fearless, and willing to hold every institution—including political leadership—to the same standards of accountability expected from everyone else.
The real issue is not whether politicians deserve respect.
The real issue is why politics has become a profession that so many citizens depend on, yet so few would recommend to their own children.
That is a question worth asking.
And perhaps the day we can ask it openly—without fear, without outrage, and without political tribalism—will be the day our democracy truly matures.
Because freedom is not measured by how loudly leaders speak.
Freedom is measured by how freely citizens can question them.