National Emergency: Young Voters Lose Faith Amid Left’s Failed Leadership

Paul Riverbank, 12/5/2025Young Americans lose faith in leadership—demanding honesty, action, and genuine representation in democracy.

The latest Harvard numbers don’t mince words. Try this on: just 13 percent of 18 to 29-year-olds feel the nation is heading the right way. That’s not a drop, that’s a nosedive. Nearly half say they’re barely getting by, scraping toward the end of each month. Three out of ten think they’ll someday outpace their parents, but let’s be honest, that’s a glass one-third full.

But to say it’s just about dollars would miss the real story. The fog settles over much more than paychecks. Back in November, only one in five Americans—across all ages—called the economy “good” or “excellent.” That’s the lowest since early 2023, and it tracks with what you hear out on the street: a young barista mentioning a roommate has moved out, unable to swing the latest rent hike; a university grad, diploma in hand, scrolling through job sites with a sinking feeling. For 40 percent, this economy is simply “poor.” Financial dread and the tape-looped hum of uncertainty color every conversation.

Trust in those meant to change things? Practically non-existent. Donald Trump’s approval with this age bracket? Stuck at 29 percent, nudging down since spring by a scrap. His handling of the economy, health care, immigration—all of it lost in the low twenties and barely getting a nod. The numbers are no better for Congress. Democrats and Republicans scrape along at each other’s heels, 27 and 26 percent, barely distinguishable in their unpopularity. A “split decision,” some might call it, but that flatters the truth.

Here’s a twist: even among those who stick to the “right” political camp, cynicism is seeping in. Young Democrats were more likely to toss negative words at their own party than their Republican peers. And if pushed to say something nice, only about a third of Democrats could muster a kind word. Among Republicans, that rose to not quite half. It’s not exactly a ringing endorsement for anyone.

Oddly enough, when asked whom they’d rather see running the next Congress in 2026, young voters leaned Democratic—46 percent to 29 percent. Not, pollsters tell us, because anyone is brimming with excitement, but more because Republicans seem even less in step with their worries. It’s like choosing the lesser storm.

Looming above all of this is deep-seated disappointment with the whole American experiment. Capitalism’s stock has slipped among this group—39 percent approve, down by six points in four years. A robust 64 percent think the democracy they’ve inherited is “in trouble” or simply “failed.” The optimists—those ready to call it “healthy”—could fit into a cramped lecture hall, just six percent of the cohort.

Pollsters use the word “frayed” when describing the bonds young Americans feel with democracy, the economy, with each other. It’s a polite summary for a harsher reality. I spoke with a 22-year-old in Milwaukee last week who shrugged when I asked about next year’s election: “Everyone’s talking, but no one’s listening. Feels like noise.” And when trust wobbles like this, the gears of democracy grind awkwardly—if they turn at all.

Underlying these numbers are undercurrents of fear rarely voiced on a debate stage. Half of the young people polled said they skip political talk altogether, afraid of the fallout. There’s something telling, and a little heartbreaking, in that. Jordan Schwartz, who chairs Harvard’s Public Opinion Project, calls it a “five-alarm fire”—a generation tuning out just as the nation most needs engaged citizens. If that’s not a wake-up call to lawmakers, what could be?

For now, young Americans aren’t checking out. They’re angry, loud when they need to be, eager to drag their grievances into the sunlight—especially around bread-and-butter issues: health care, jobs, student debt, climate policy. But the patience for vague promises and party-line platitudes is wearing thin. Polls are always snapshots, of course, but these images bear a certain urgency. When nearly half of a rising generation struggles to say anything positive about either political team, we’re past the point where cosmetic fixes will do.

We may be standing at a rare inflection point—one where the country must decide whether the words “representation” and “responsiveness” mean anything beyond campaign banners. If there’s hope, it lies in the restless energy of young Americans. The signal is clear: practice honesty, address fears head-on, and give people a reason to believe again. Because time—like trust—is running out, and a nation ignoring the unease of its youngest citizens should not be surprised to find the future, when it arrives, less patient or forgiving than the past.

It’s hard to walk into a college town or city coffee shop these days without sensing it. Sit long enough near a table of twenty-somethings and you’ll likely overhear the same pulse of worry, skepticism, or resignation—sometimes all at once. Something has shifted among young Americans, and a sheaf of recent polls lays it bare: the faith that once wired this country together is flickering inside the generation stepping up next.The latest Harvard numbers don’t mince words. Try this on: just 13 percent of 18 to 29-year-olds feel the nation is heading the right way. That’s not a drop, that’s a nosedive. Nearly half say they’re barely getting by, scraping toward the end of each month. Three out of ten think they’ll someday outpace their parents, but let’s be honest, that’s a glass one-third full.But to say it’s just about dollars would miss the real story. The fog settles over much more than paychecks. Back in November, only one in five Americans—across all ages—called the economy “good” or “excellent.” That’s the lowest since early 2023, and it tracks with what you hear out on the street: a young barista mentioning a roommate has moved out, unable to swing the latest rent hike; a university grad, diploma in hand, scrolling through job sites with a sinking feeling. For 40 percent, this economy is simply “poor.” Financial dread and the tape-looped hum of uncertainty color every conversation.Trust in those meant to change things? Practically non-existent. Donald Trump’s approval with this age bracket? Stuck at 29 percent, nudging down since spring by a scrap. His handling of the economy, health care, immigration—all of it lost in the low twenties and barely getting a nod. The numbers are no better for Congress. Democrats and Republicans scrape along at each other’s heels, 27 and 26 percent, barely distinguishable in their unpopularity. A “split decision,” some might call it, but that flatters the truth.Here’s a twist: even among those who stick to the “right” political camp, cynicism is seeping in. Young Democrats were more likely to toss negative words at their own party than their Republican peers. And if pushed to say something nice, only about a third of Democrats could muster a kind word. Among Republicans, that rose to not quite half. It’s not exactly a ringing endorsement for anyone.Oddly enough, when asked whom they’d rather see running the next Congress in 2026, young voters leaned Democratic—46 percent to 29 percent. Not, pollsters tell us, because anyone is brimming with excitement, but more because Republicans seem even less in step with their worries. It’s like choosing the lesser storm.Looming above all of this is deep-seated disappointment with the whole American experiment. Capitalism’s stock has slipped among this group—39 percent approve, down by six points in four years. A robust 64 percent think the democracy they’ve inherited is “in trouble” or simply “failed.” The optimists—those ready to call it “healthy”—could fit into a cramped lecture hall, just six percent of the cohort.Pollsters use the word “frayed” when describing the bonds young Americans feel with democracy, the economy, with each other. It’s a polite summary for a harsher reality. I spoke with a 22-year-old in Milwaukee last week who shrugged when I asked about next year’s election: “Everyone’s talking, but no one’s listening. Feels like noise.” And when trust wobbles like this, the gears of democracy grind awkwardly—if they turn at all.Underlying these numbers are undercurrents of fear rarely voiced on a debate stage. Half of the young people polled said they skip political talk altogether, afraid of the fallout. There’s something telling, and a little heartbreaking, in that. Jordan Schwartz, who chairs Harvard’s Public Opinion Project, calls it a “five-alarm fire”—a generation tuning out just as the nation most needs engaged citizens. If that’s not a wake-up call to lawmakers, what could be?For now, young Americans aren’t checking out. They’re angry, loud when they need to be, eager to drag their grievances into the sunlight—especially around bread-and-butter issues: health care, jobs, student debt, climate policy. But the patience for vague promises and party-line platitudes is wearing thin. Polls are always snapshots, of course, but these images bear a certain urgency. When nearly half of a rising generation struggles to say anything positive about either political team, we’re past the point where cosmetic fixes will do.We may be standing at a rare inflection point—one where the country must decide whether the words “representation” and “responsiveness” mean anything beyond campaign banners. If there’s hope, it lies in the restless energy of young Americans. The signal is clear: practice honesty, address fears head-on, and give people a reason to believe again. Because time—like trust—is running out, and a nation ignoring the unease of its youngest citizens should not be surprised to find the future, when it arrives, less patient or forgiving than the past.