In 1984, Wendy’s ran a television commercial featuring an elderly woman—played to perfection by Clara Peller—staring at an enormous hamburger bun. Inside was a burger patty smaller than the bun’s sesame-seed budget.

She looked at it for a moment and asked, “Where’s the beef?”

More than forty years later, it may be time to ask a similar question about the people we elect to public office: Where’s the character?

Graham Platner seemed to possess the kind of biography political consultants drool over. A native of coastal Maine, he served in the Marines and the Army National Guard, completed combat tours in Iraq and Afghanistan, then returned home to become an oyster farmer and participate in local government.

He was not a polished product of Washington. And that was precisely his appeal

Platner spoke bluntly about endless wars, economic inequality, unaffordable health care and a political system increasingly responsive to wealthy donors rather than working people. To many Maine Democrats, he was more than another candidate. He was their voice: a veteran, a laborer and an outsider willing to express their anger and disillusionment with Washington and their own party’s establishment.

Then trouble showed up.

A former paramour accused him of sexual assault, an allegation he categorically denied. Almost immediately, the conversation turned to political strategy: How could he hurt us? Could Democrats still defeat Senator Susan Collins? What would his departure mean for control of the Senate?

Those are understandable questions. But they also reveal something troubling about the way we choose our leaders. We have become so accustomed to judging candidates by party, and electoral usefulness that character is considered only after everything else, and sometimes not even then.

Before deciding whether a candidate can help our side win, perhaps we should first decide whether that person deserves the public’s trust.

Former Trump White House aide, Max Miller of Ohio built his political identity around loyalty to Donald Trump, and to voters who believed Washington needed fighters rather than mediators.

Miller now faces grave allegations from his former wife, who has accused him of domestic violence and abuse. Miller categorically denies the allegations and has sought an investigation to clear his name. The House Ethics Committee is reviewing allegations while emphasizing that opening a review does not establish wrongdoing.

Some Republicans have called on Miller to resign. Others have treated the matter primarily as an electoral problem: Will his candidacy put a Republican seat at risk? How much damage will the allegations cause the party?

Different candidates. Different parties. Same instinct. Measure a crisis first by what it means for political power and only afterward by what it may reveal about the character of the person entrusted with that power.

Platner and Miller are hardly the first political figures to raise serious questions about character. Many who sat in the nation’s highest offices demonstrated a lack of honesty, judgment, restraint and personal responsibility.

But then, we grew—after Watergate, after Clinton. Or so I thought.

Conduct that once disqualified a candidate is now explained away or minimized, provided they belong to the right political tribe.

We have allowed party loyalty and political identity to excuse conduct we would never tolerate in our neighbors, co-workers, or families. We rationalize that the stakes are too high to question the character of a candidate who promises to vote our way.

But the stakes are precisely why character matters.

Before asking where a candidate stands on taxes, immigration, the war, the economy or any other issue, we should ask whether that person possesses the character and discernment necessary to hold the public confidence.

I’m not asking for Mr. Smith or Atticus Finch. But we need leaders of character—people with the integrity, humility and judgment necessary to serve all of us, and who understand that public office is a public trust.

We should first ask a simple question: Does he or she have the character necessary to deserve our trust?

(August recess. I’ll return after Labor Day.)