James King Jr. endured the worst our nation could throw at him, and he still lived an exemplary life.

Beyond a shadow of doubt, we are a noisy, polarized, chronically dissatisfied people—especially when it comes to our leaders. Complaints are our national pastime, right up there with baseball and blaming Washington.

And yet, this is hardly new. We survived Watergate, the McCarthy witch hunts, Ban-the-Bomb protests, the Vietnam era’s moral combustion, and before that, a Revolution and a Civil War. Contrary to repeated predictions of collapse, our democratic foundations stubbornly refused to crumble. With luck—and efforts from the better angels among us—they still will.

What truly unsettles us is not politics but disappointment. We elect leaders every four years expecting a harmonious, jolly good future, preferably delivered ahead of schedule and without inconvenience. I share the unease, but long life teaches you that expectations are often self-serving fantasies dressed up as moral certainties. We choose leaders because we are who we are. Don’t like the outcome? Make your case and try again next time. That’s the system—warts, noise, and all.

Which brings me to a useful historical antidote to modern hysteria: James King Jr.

James entered the world in 1874 as the innocent center of a national scandal. His unmarried father ran for president—twice—and won. The press howled with delight. Rival politicians swooned at the good fortune. Banner headlines mocked:

“Ma, Ma, where is Pa?”
“He’s gone to the White House—Ha, Ha, Ha!”

The father, rather than ducking or lying, acknowledged the child, supported him financially, arranged a stable home, and went on to win two presidential elections. The child—after enduring America’s full capacity for cruelty—grew up to become a respected children’s physician in Buffalo. Against all predictions, everyone survived, and at least one flourished.

History is full of similar failed prophecies. Jefferson’s personal life was supposed to end the Republic. Clinton’s scandal was meant to torch democracy. Vietnam’s loss would doom Southeast Asia. Aerosol hairspray would fry our brains through the ozone hole. McCarthy’s papers would prove the government was run by communists. None of it quite worked out that way.

Must we confront political opponents to preserve the country? Yes. Would different election outcomes have spared us moral panic and screaming headlines? Maybe. Would we now be basking in peaceful unity and mutual admiration? Absolutely not.

Democracy is irrational, messy, and occasionally humiliating—but it has a surprisingly good survival rate. And every so often, like James King Jr., someone emerges from the wreckage just fine.

That, in itself, is reason for cautious optimism—and perhaps fewer apocalyptic headlines.