With the presidential election approaching, my brother and I were discussing the sad state of affairs in our beloved America: riots, conflict between liberals and conservatives, deteriorating infrastructure coast to coast, and excess national debt.

My brother owns and operates several successful businesses, so he knows what it takes to be a competent leader and an effective project developer. I told him he would make a damn good president. We were both born and raised in New England, influenced by our industrious and hard-working father. Our dad was the incarnation of the Puritan work ethic — able to envision and actualize seemingly impossible goals, no matter what the personal sacrifice and cost. Today, few remnants of that ethos remain.

Our Founding Fathers who conceived and gave birth to the American Dream served without pay from a sense of patriotic duty, at great risk of losing their lives. Where are all the good men who should have gathered by now to rescue our nation? “For the godly are no more, and the faithful have vanished from among us” (Psalm 12:1).

We the People have allowed a far different Congress to evolve, teeming with predator politicians. “They all lie in wait for blood and they hunt each other with a net” (Micah 7:2). Too many candidates are motivated only by pursuit of prestigious perks, generous salaries and travel privileges, and fat-cat pensions with lifelong health benefits. They are removed from the experience of everyday Americans and are out of touch with main street.

My brother and I both know what it would take to “drain the swamp” and “make America great again.” The Paradox of Prosperity during the last hundred years has enfeebled our people and blinded us from choosing worthy candidates for public office. What we see nowadays is a congress of baboons. The thin veneer of civility has been lost to the rancor heard in its marble halls. The noble portraits hung on its walls blink in shame.

I said to my brother, “Would you consider running for public office?”

Now in his mid-seventies, he was eager to retire from dealing with stressful business problems day after day. He wanted to hide from the spotlight of being the big boss and to spend his golden years with his devoted wife, sons, and grandchildren.

He gazed out the window, then said, “No. No, I wouldn’t.” Perhaps he senses the ultimate futility of guiding a people blinded by overindulgence.