From a Culture of Courage to a Nation of Fear

Our Past: A Culture of Courage

I did not grow up in a culture of fear.
In fact, I would argue that the America I grew up in was defined by courage.

My parents and grandparents lived through—and helped shape—one of the most consequential centuries in human history. In the 20th century, we endured and overcame the Great Depression. We won two world wars and the Cold War. We built an interstate highway system and public infrastructure that became the envy of the world. We put a man on the moon. We tackled devastating diseases. We pushed through civil rights legislation. We expanded prosperity and reduced poverty. We created systems so people could retire with dignity. We built healthcare safety nets for those who needed them. And we fostered technological innovation—from computing and aerospace to medicine and communications—that transformed the world.

We believed we could do hard things—together.

What strikes me when I look back isn’t just what we accomplished, but how we did it. We invested for the long term. We trusted expertise. We debated, compromised, and then built. Highways, power grids, research labs, universities, and global institutions weren’t created out of fear—they were built out of confidence. Leadership wasn’t about managing emotion; it was about building capacity.

Somewhere along the way, we stopped asking, “What are we building?” and started asking, “What should we be afraid of?”

The Paradox We’re Living In

Here’s the irony.

Today, by almost every objective measure, we live in a safer, more advanced world. Many socioeconomic indicators are dramatically better than they were decades ago. Global poverty has been significantly reduced. While we have not solved race or class challenges—and shouldn’t pretend we have—more people today have access to opportunity and a better life than ever before.

We’ve lived through a long stretch of relative peace and prosperity.

And yet, we are more afraid than ever. Somewhere along the way, we became a fearful nation.

I don’t know if it’s the media, which has learned that fear drives ratings and outrage keeps people watching. I don’t know if it’s political leaders who find it easier to divide than to unite—because governing from the center requires courage and compromise.

All great leaders are, ultimately, unifiers. Yet today, the loudest voices often come from the edges. Instead of campaigning toward the extremes and governing from the middle, we increasingly campaign and govern from the margins—alienating large portions of the country in the process. And, good manners and etiquette have become a relic of the past.

That isn’t leadership. That’s performance.

The Loss of Trust

What troubles me most is what we’ve lost along the way.

We no longer trust the media.

We no longer trust our government.

We no longer trust our institutions of higher learning

We no longer trust time-tested proven allies

We no longer trust one another.

People increasingly live inside intellectual bubbles, consuming information that confirms what they already believe. Opinions form quickly—often with incomplete facts—and are defended fiercely. The loudest voice or biggest platform becomes a substitute for evidence, judgment, and expertise.

We’ve shifted from being taught how to think to being told what to think by whom we want to listen to. Our children spend years learning how to take tests well but far less time learning how to reason, ask good questions, evaluate sources, or hold competing ideas in tension.

That should worry us—not because disagreement is dangerous, but because shallow, defensive thinking is.

A Crisis of Public Leadership

I firmly believe we are facing a crisis of public leadership.

Calmer, more rational voices from both sides of the aisle need to come together—not to win arguments, but to solve problems. The current path of division leads to only one place, and it’s not a good one.

What makes this conversation uncomfortable for some is that I don’t fit neatly into a political box. I consider myself a moderate pro-business Democrat—who can lean left or right depending upon the issue, and supportive of common‑sense legislation. Throughout my life, I’ve voted for people from both parties. I’ve respected and admired leaders on the other side of the aisle because judgment, character, and competence matter more than party labels.

I also believe deeply that one party holding power for too long is unhealthy. Our system of three branches of government exists for a reason—to balance power. We fought a war to escape a king, yet today it feels as though many people are searching for one.

That should concern all of us.

Fear, Power, and the Meaning of Leadership

You know what happens to scared people?

If they can, they become bullies.
If they can’t, they become victims and hide or strike out passive-aggressively.

Either way, fear tends to look outward for someone to blame. Unhappiness and insecurity often manifest in how people treat others.

America was respected in the world because—even with our flaws and misjudgements—we weren’t a bully. For the first time in history, the global order was led by a nation-state that did not seek to conquer territory for its own sake. We worked to secure free and open democracies—and then leave. We built international institutions to negotiate peace and manage conflict. We fought bullies. We did not aspire to become one.

Weak people often misuse or misunderstand power.

True power is the ability to walk away from it—as George Washington did.
True power looked like the Marshall Plan, helping nations we had defeated rebuild rather than humiliating them.
True power fights disease and famine.
True power shares technology and innovation with those desperate for progress.
True power strives for diplomacy before conflict.
True power does not need to threaten. It is understood.

And this is where our Constitution matters most.

The Constitution is not valuable only when it is convenient for those in power; it is most essential precisely when it constrains their tendency to overreach—when it limits self‑interest, tempers fear‑driven decisions, and protects the collective good. Respecting those constraints is not a weakness. It is one of the clearest signs of legitimate strength.

True leadership means choosing to operate from higher ground—morally, intellectually, and strategically. It means understanding that how we lead matters just as much as what we accomplish. It means setting an example worthy of imitation.

Fear Has Become Our Default Setting

When a bad weather forecast sends people into panic mode, something is wrong.
When people live in constant fear of crimes that are statistically at historic lows, something is wrong.
When we stop listening to one another, something is wrong

When we want to censor free speech, something is wrong
When we outsource our thinking to talking heads and ideologues, something is wrong.
When we see our fellow citizens as enemies rather than neighbors, something is profoundly wrong.

We once built national capacity—physical, intellectual, and moral.
Today, far too much energy is spent manufacturing fear instead.

COVID Was a Test

I believe COVID was a test—and I’m not sure we passed.

It isolated us further from one another. It deepened distrust rather than reinforcing shared responsibility. And isolating America from the rest of the world—while allowing dictators to carve up parts of it—is fundamentally un‑American.

We have always been strongest when we engaged, led, and stood for something larger than ourselves.

A Real Call Back to Courage

This isn’t about nostalgia. It’s about responsibility.

If you’re a parent, a leader, an educator, or anyone with influence over others, the question isn’t what you’re afraid of—it’s what you’re modeling.

Fear is contagious. So is courage.

Courage looks like slowing down before forming an opinion.
It looks like reading beyond headlines and soundbites.
It looks like listening to people you disagree with—not to win, but to understand.
It looks like rewarding leaders who show restraint, judgment, and humility rather than outrage and theatrics.
It looks like modeling curiosity, integrity, and critical thinking for our children, teams, and communities.

We don’t need fewer problems to solve. We need more adults willing to solve them—with steadiness, discipline, and moral courage.

We have done this before.
And if we choose to—deliberately, thoughtfully, together—we can do it again.