There used to be this feeling under Eisenhower and Kennedy and

Hear, O children of history, the solemn words of Robert Caro, the great biographer of power: “There used to be this feeling under Eisenhower and Kennedy and Roosevelt and Truman that government was a solution. Trust in the presidency fell precipitously under Johnson—real lows. And it’s never come back. It’s a trend that, if you’re liberal, is really discouraging.” In these lines he speaks not only of presidents and policies, but of the breaking of a covenant between people and their leaders, a wound that has lingered across generations.

For in the days of Roosevelt and Truman, and even Eisenhower and Kennedy, there was a belief that government could rise as protector, builder, and guide. Roosevelt, with the New Deal, gave bread to the hungry and work to the jobless, and the people saw in him a shield against despair. Truman, though plain and unadorned, became the steady hand in the storm after war. Kennedy, with youthful fire, spoke of sacrifice and new frontiers, and the people believed the republic could ascend to the stars. In those times, trust was strong, for the people still believed their leaders acted with vision and courage.

But then came Johnson, a man of vast ambition and towering skill. He gave the nation the Civil Rights Act and the Great Society, laws that reshaped America with justice and compassion. And yet, his shadow was Vietnam. As the war deepened, as the bodies returned home, as the promises of “light at the end of the tunnel” turned to endless conflict, the people saw deception where once they saw guidance. And so, as Caro teaches, trust in the presidency fell precipitously. It was not merely Johnson’s fall, but the fall of the office itself, for never again would Americans look upon their leaders with the same innocence.

History shows this pattern elsewhere. In ancient Rome, when Augustus ruled, the people believed in the benevolence of empire; but when Nero squandered trust with cruelty and lies, the faith of the people was broken. Even good emperors who followed could never fully restore the sanctity of the purple. So too in America: after Johnson, Nixon’s Watergate deepened the wound, Carter wrestled with disillusion, and even Reagan’s optimism could not fully mend the breach. Once broken, trust does not return easily—it remains fragile, always haunted by betrayal.

Caro’s lament speaks especially to those of liberal faith in government as a force for good. For if the people no longer see government as solution but as problem, how then can grand visions be realized? How can poverty be conquered, education lifted, injustice healed, if the very instruments of change are distrusted? This discouragement is not mere politics, but a grief: the grief of seeing cynicism where once there was hope, suspicion where once there was unity.

Yet from this sorrow arises a lesson. For though trust may be broken, it can be restored, not by speeches alone, but by deeds of integrity. Leaders must remember that every false promise, every hidden truth, erodes the foundation of faith. But honesty, courage, and service, even in dark times, can begin to rebuild what was lost. Just as Lincoln, through the fire of civil war, redefined the presidency as a vessel of unity, so too can future leaders redeem it, if they place truth above ambition.

O children of tomorrow, take this wisdom to heart: do not let cynicism consume you. Hold your leaders accountable, demand truth, and do not surrender the hope that government can be a force for justice. For though Robert Caro warns us of a trust once lost, he also shows us that history is a tide. What has fallen low may yet rise again, if enough hands and hearts labor for it.

Thus, let this teaching endure: the presidency, once a beacon, fell in the days of Johnson, and the people’s trust has never fully returned. Yet the lesson is clear—trust, once broken, is the rarest treasure. Guard it in your own life. Live truthfully, lead honestly, and demand the same from others. For only in truth does trust live, and only in trust can the world be made meaningful again.