Leadership Quote by Calvin Coolidge

Coolidge’s line is austerity dressed up as folksy reassurance: a president of small-government instincts telling anxious citizens (and jittery markets) to stop rehearsing catastrophes. The image does the heavy lifting. Troubles are not abstract “challenges” but a clumsy convoy barreling toward you, and most of them, he insists, can’t even stay on the road. That’s not mere optimism; it’s an argument for restraint. If most crises self-destruct, the wise response isn’t constant intervention but steadiness, patience, and a refusal to be stampeded into action.

The subtext is political as much as psychological. Coolidge governed in the 1920s, an era when the federal government’s role was being renegotiated amid rapid industrial growth, labor unrest, and the aftershocks of war. His public persona - taciturn, controlled, allergic to drama - becomes policy in miniature here: manage your nerves, keep your hands off the wheel, let overhyped threats burn out on their own. It’s leadership as anti-theater.

The rhetoric is also a subtle rebuke to professional worriers: pundits, lobbyists, and panic merchants who profit from making every bump in the distance look like a cliff. By quantifying fear (“ten,” “nine”), he turns dread into bad math, something you can correct. Of course, the line has a built-in blind spot: the tenth trouble might be the one that doesn’t ditch itself - the kind that punishes complacency. Coolidge is betting that calm is usually a better governor than fear, and he’s selling that bet with a homely metaphor that makes prudence feel like common sense.