Now where people are - at least the people I talk to - they are

William P. Leahy, speaking with the solemnity of one who had listened to the cries of a wounded people, declared: “Now where people are—at least the people I talk to—they are focused on issues of trust. Accountability also comes up, to make sure that this doesn’t happen again.” His words are not idle commentary; they are the distilled wisdom of a community that has endured betrayal. For when wrongs are committed, when faith is broken, what people long for most is not comfort or excuses, but the twin pillars of trust and accountability.

The origin of this thought lies in the crises of institutions—whether of church, government, or community—that failed those they were meant to serve. Leahy, a Jesuit and president of Boston College, spoke these words in the wake of the Catholic Church’s abuse scandals. In those dark days, the faithful felt abandoned, deceived, and shamed by the very shepherds entrusted with their care. In such a time, what could heal them? Not denial. Not silence. Only the rebuilding of trust through honest confession, and the forging of accountability, so that the sins of the past would not be repeated.

The ancients, too, knew this truth. When a king betrayed his people, when a general lost a battle through arrogance, the citizens did not demand wealth or conquest as reparation. They demanded justice, transparency, and the assurance that such failure would not return. Consider the Roman Republic after the corruption of its governors in distant provinces. The people cried out for accountability, and new laws were written to restrain the abuse of power. For without accountability, trust dies; and without trust, no city, no temple, no nation can endure.

Think also of Abraham Lincoln, who during the Civil War faced not only the external crisis of disunion but the internal crisis of confidence in leadership. When mistakes were made, Lincoln did not hide them—he bore responsibility, even at great personal cost. By doing so, he nurtured trust among the people, proving that accountability is not a sign of weakness but of strength. His legacy endures because he understood what Leahy reminds us of: that accountability is the only path by which trust, once broken, can be restored.

Leahy’s words also warn us of the danger of ignoring this demand. When leaders dismiss the cries for accountability, when they hide behind power or tradition, the wound festers. Distrust grows like a poison vine, strangling the life of communities. History is filled with such lessons—the fall of monarchies, the collapse of empires, the scattering of once-great institutions—all because trust was squandered, and accountability refused. His statement is therefore both a diagnosis and a command: if we wish to preserve what is sacred, we must face our failures with courage and truth.

The lesson for us is not only for nations or churches, but for every life. Each of us carries relationships—families, friendships, communities—that rely on trust. If we betray that trust, whether by deceit, neglect, or selfishness, we must not hide. We must take responsibility, seek forgiveness, and act so that harm is not repeated. In this way, accountability is not punishment, but the soil in which renewed trust can grow. Without it, all bonds wither. With it, bonds are restored stronger than before.

Practical action flows clearly from this wisdom. Speak honestly when you fail. Do not excuse yourself with half-truths. Ask forgiveness, and then change your ways. Hold others accountable not in cruelty, but in justice, so that they too may grow. And in your leaders—whether of community, workplace, or nation—demand transparency, demand responsibility, and do not be lulled by words without deeds. Only then can cycles of betrayal be broken, and a new foundation of trust established.

So let Leahy’s words ring through the ages: “People are focused on issues of trust. Accountability also comes up, to make sure this doesn’t happen again.” This is not merely a reflection on one moment of crisis—it is a commandment for all time. Guard trust as you would guard fire, for it warms all human fellowship. Enforce accountability as you would enforce law, for it prevents the return of darkness. And remember: when these two walk together, trust and accountability, even the most broken of communities can rise again from the ashes.