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Today’s far-reaching presidents should look instead to George Washington’s restraint

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by Paul Oestreicher, opinion contributor - 04/30/26 7:30 AM ET

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by Paul Oestreicher, opinion contributor - 04/30/26 7:30 AM ET

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On this day in 1789, George Washington took the oath of office in New York City. In his First Inaugural Address, he defined the presidency not by what it could do, but by what it must refuse to become. This key contrast — between capacity and restraint — is the very distinction we most need to revisit now.

Two passages from that address deserve renewed attention. In the first, Washington said there is “an indissoluble union between virtue and happiness, between duty and advantage, between the genuine maxims of an honest and magnanimous policy, and the solid rewards of public prosperity and felicity.”

In the second passage, he declines any personal profit from the office. He asks that compensation be limited to what is necessary to perform the job — the “actual expenditures as the public good may be thought to require.”

These are not ceremonial lines. They are a framework for governing.

Washington’s first claim is deceptively simple: Ethics and outcomes are inseparable. A nation that tolerates dishonesty, self-dealing or short-term opportunism at the top will not sustain long-term prosperity. Virtue, in his view, is not a moral accessory but a functional requirement. Public trust is not a byproduct of success but a precondition for it.

That idea runs counter to the dominant transactional view of modern politics, in which results are often divorced from the means used to achieve them. In contrast, Washington rejected that separation outright. He insisted that duty and advantage are aligned, warning that a leader who abandons one will eventually forfeit the other.

The second passage operationalizes that philosophy. Washington’s refusal of personal emoluments was not an act of modesty; it was an act of institutional design. The young republic had just broken from a monarchy where power and personal wealth were intertwined. Washington understood that the presidency would be legitimate only if it was visibly and unmistakably a public trust.

He did not merely say that the office should serve the people. He removed himself, as much as possible, from any perception that he might benefit from it.

That example set a standard — one that has been tested repeatedly, and unevenly, over the centuries.

Which brings us, unavoidably, to the present.

In recent years, the presidency has been viewed by some as less of a constrained office and more of an expansive instrument of personal authority. President Trump has at times explicitly articulated that view, framing presidential power in sweeping terms and resisting the notion that restraint is a defining feature of the role. At the same time, his business interests – spanning real estate, branding, media, and emerging ventures like cryptocurrency – have raised persistent questions about where the line between public duty and private gain should be drawn.

Supporters argue Trump’s approach reflects a results-oriented pragmatism, unburdened by what they see as outdated norms. Critics see something else. They see a blurring of boundaries that Washington went out of his way to make unmistakable.

This is not a debate about style or decorum. It is a debate about the structural integrity of the office itself.

Washington’s framework suggests the health of a republic depends less on the strength of its laws than on the discipline of those entrusted to execute them. Laws can constrain behavior, but they cannot substitute for character. If leaders view the office as an extension of themselves — of their will, their interests, their advantage — then the system begins to bend around that idea.

And systems that bend far enough around one person’s will do not simply snap back when that person leaves.

It is tempting to treat Washington’s words as artifacts of a more genteel era. Some may see them as disconnected from the rougher realities of modern politics. That would be a mistake. If anything, the scale, speed, and visibility of today’s political environment make his insights more relevant. The stakes of leadership are higher. The consequences of ethical erosion travel faster and reach further.

The question Washington posed – quietly, but unmistakably – is still the central question of American governance: Is power something to be exercised to its limits, or something to be disciplined by principle?

There is no statute that can fully answer that question. No regulation that can enforce it in every instance. It is answered, ultimately, by the choices of individuals who hold o