I grew up in prime Bill Cosby years. When I was quite young, I watched Fat Albert, the cartoon where Cosby gave a voice to a memorable cast of characters. “Hey, Hey, Hey” was a constant catchphrase for me and my friends. Later, I watched The Cosby Show, one of the most beloved and influential sitcoms in history. It was groundbreaking for many reasons, but its positive portrayal of family life (Dad wasn’t a moron, but a doctor, and Mom wasn’t a shrew, but a successful lawyer, and the kids were neither angels nor demons, but complicated in their own way) and its window into the African-American upper-middle class, were chief among them. Bill Cosby, the comedian, was a megastar in our entertainment firmament, a wholesome alternative the entire family could enjoy.

To see him, a symbol of my childhood, carted away in cuffs, stripped of his finery, after being convicted of sexual assault, and sentenced to 3-10 years in prison, was jarring in spite of its predictability. There are obvious lessons to draw, especially how the veneer of respectability can actually mask a demon. But Cosby’s arrest, trial, conviction, and sentencing are also a testament to the rule of law. The system brought one of our most powerful figures to justice. Neither his money, fame, nor power could prevent this. The outcome illustrates the good.*

In order for the rule of law to function well, it must be even sharper and we must apply it robustly in all times and places. There are no crowds cheering for Cosby. He does not represent a vital movement and he does not further a treasured political narrative. Applying the rule of law, in all times and places, even when it cuts against our own interests, reveals a culture that respects the law. In this way, Cosby is not the best test case.

As we watch our culture wrestle with evidence and arguments surrounding #MeToo, we see the fracturing of these ideals. Not every interview is sworn testimony, and public hearings are not necessarily judicial. I understand the distinction. At the same time, our concepts of process and fairness, whenever we consider accusations of misdeeds, are informed by, if not the direct products of, how we see the law. Are there standards that transcend party, gender, and ideology? Or is the law a mere instrument to further a political end?

Watching the swirling monsoon of the past two years, I fear for the rule of law in our society. Republicans will rush to defend Donald Trump and Brett Kavanaugh against allegations,** while they will push for retribution against Al Franken and Keith Ellison. Democrats have still not fully grappled with Bill Clinton’s sordid sexual history, nor Mrs. Clinton’s role in suppressing and discrediting his accusers when it was politically convenient. For Stephen Colbert to even ask Mrs. Clinton about allegations against Kavanaugh reveals either a stunning lack of self-awareness or a bankrupted mind. Democrats have not repudiated the Hollywood system that flooded their war chests while at the same time perpetuating a gross and stunted power dynamic between rich men and vulnerable women.

We need the courage, all of us, to be fair as we assess the rights and wrongs that come before us. When evidence is thin or non-existent, as against Kavanaugh, we should say so. When patterns are easily established and stories are corroborated, as against Roy Moore, we should say so. We are not lawyers and judges, to be sure, but we nonetheless argue and seek to persuade others. We should do so judiciously, regardless of our formal relationship with the law.

In his famed Lyceum Address, Abraham Lincoln challenged his audience to make obedience to the law, and a reverence for the institutions of the law, our “political religion.” He urged citizens to:

Let reverence for the laws, be breathed by every American mother, to the lisping babe, that prattles on her lap–let it be taught in schools, in seminaries, and in colleges; let it be written in Primers, spelling books, and in Almanacs; let it be preached from the pulpit, proclaimed in legislative halls, and enforced in courts of justice.

Lincoln’s vision of the rule of law extends much further than courts and government chambers. It also assumes something of a reciprocal relationship between the law and the people. Instead of doing or saying whatever we wish, and expecting the formal authorities or courts to hash it out, we should understand our impact on our institutions. If obedience to the rule of law, and the standards it demands, is paramount, we will have a culture that does not merely bow to the law, but one that reinforces and strengthens the law by our own actions. The rule of law must be a cultural touchstone outside the courts if we expect it to prevail within our courts for long. There should be little divide, then, between how our politics approaches matters of justice and truth and fairness and how our courts handle them. Yes, standards of evidence may vary and a close political call might be different from a verdict, but fair procedures and respect for credible evidence should endure in all spheres.

We should respect truth. We should examine evidence. We should assume and practice fair procedures. These are the values of a culture, not just a courtroom.

*Granted, Cosby had been brought low already in the court of public opinion as the number of women coming forward overwhelmed any sense of resistance. A better example might be of a currently popular figure being convicted for something not in a pattern.

**I am not suggesting the evidence against Trump and Kavanaugh are equivalent. They are not.