By Amanda Szulc, Opinion Contributor
There are moments in politics when the noise threatens to drown out something essential: truth handled with integrity.
For years, I wrote quietly about Illinois politics from the outside – no brand-building, no chasing Access – just trying to make sense of a state growing unrecognizable. I hoped clarity, restraint, and moral seriousness still mattered.
When my work reached others and led to direct involvement, my view shifted. Up close, politics reveals not just disagreement but cruelty, distortion, and bad faith. Rumors spread faster than facts; outrage outpaces verification; restraint is mistaken for weakness.
My admiration for Darren Bailey began in 2021 as a citizen drawn to his steadfast faith and refusal to yield. I never expected that to draw me into his campaign. The opportunity arose organically from honest writing and open conviction.
Illinois faces urgent crises in 2026: record debt, population exodus, scandals like Gov. Pritzker’s Epstein ties, rising costs, unsafe streets, and underfunded mental health services. Families need leaders who prioritize stewardship over self-interest.
Labels like “too conservative” miss what matters: character, endurance, and the ability to govern amid hardship. Bailey’s life reflects hardships that test true mettle. In October 2025, a helicopter crash in Montana claimed the lives of his son Zachary (the pilot), daughter-in-law Kelsey, and two young grandchildren, Vada Rose (12) and Samuel (7). Their surviving grandson, Finn (10), was not aboard; Bailey and his wife Cindy have since helped raise him with extended family support amid unimaginable grief.
The NTSB investigation pointed to a sudden failure, but the deeper story is Bailey’s response.
He paused briefly for mourning and funerals, yet leaned on his evangelical faith, community prayers, and family closeness. Less than three weeks later, after much prayer and reflection, he announced he would continue his gubernatorial campaign – stating Illinois was “worth fighting for” and that the tragedy had deepened his compassion, renewed his passion for life, and sharpened his focus on serving others.
In interviews, he described it as “life-changing” and the “hardest days” of his life, yet it brought renewed empathy: “I miss him… This has helped me to become more compassionate.” Rather than retreat, he channeled pain into purpose, drawing strength from Scripture, church support, and a belief in God’s closeness to the brokenhearted.
Some harden or withdraw in such loss; others emerge with a quiet, unshakeable steadiness that can’t be faked.
This isn’t performative endurance – it’s a lived testimony of perseverance under trial, grounded in the same faith he’s held for years.
Scripture speaks directly to this: “Blessed is the one who perseveres under trial because, having stood the test, that person will receive the crown of life that the Lord has promised to those who love him” (James 1:12).
Illinois desperately needs that kind of steadiness.
I’ve also seen it in Aaron Del Mar – not through spectacle, but quiet action. My involvement began when he read an article I wrote praising his heartfelt response at a Will County event after Bailey’s family tragedy. Del Mar spoke of faith, family, and unity, calling Republicans to support one another in pain.
He didn’t have to notice a small blog post or reach out personally. But he did: “Thank you so much for the kind words, I read your blog post and was touched by your amazing article. I would love to have you on the campaign.”
That act – recognizing sincerity without strings – showed discernment and stewardship in a self-interested world. It turned quiet writing into active contribution, rooted in mutual respect for principle.
Skepticism lingers about the Bailey-Del Mar ticket’s chances. Much stems from geography: Bailey from Southern Illinois, dismissed as out-of-touch with suburbs where elections turn.
Critics like Dan Proft have amplified this, mocking some supporters as intellectually lacking or using “hillbilly” jabs that insult entire regions.
Such rhetoric divides rather than unites Republicans against the Pritzker machine. It fuels defeatism instead of addressing high taxes, crime, and exodus.
As Will County Coordinator, I’ve seen the opposite. Bailey works tirelessly – attending events statewide, debating, listening to everyone without rushing or polling. He engages authentically, grounded in unchanging faith. Del Mar brings Cook County GOP leadership, coalition-building, and suburban bridging.
Together, they unite downstate resilience with suburban strategy.
Winning demands shared values and hard work – not geography or elite approval. I’ve witnessed that ethic firsthand.
I’m grateful to the Bailey-Del Mar campaign for the chance to learn from their resilience, moral clarity, and principle – qualities that transcend any race.
This isn’t about blind loyalty. No side owns integrity; flaws exist everywhere. But Illinois’s challenges belong to all: rising costs, crime, mental health gaps. Voters must question claims, examine records, and reject inflammatory noise. Skepticism should follow facts and fairness.
The core problem isn’t ambition – it’s lacking moral seriousness in power.
Calling someone “too conservative” is easy. Leading with integrity is hard. From outside and inside politics, I see Illinois needs leaders tested by life, anchored in principle, steady amid the din – not perfect or performative, but reliable.
Illinoisans, in 2026, seek that steadiness. Pray for discernment, demand accountability, and back those who lead with faith and fairness. Our state depends on it.
Author’s Note:
I write as a journalist, conservative Christian, and citizen committed to truth, restraint, and accountability. My involvement grew organically from writing, not ambition. Scripture reminds us: “The integrity of the upright guides them” (Proverbs 11:3). Character, tested, reveals more about leadership than any label.
