Democracy at the Crossroads: The Trump Effect on American Democracy and the Autocratic Tide

Donald Trump’s authoritarian style, personalistic rule, erosion of democratic institutions, and global influence on democratic norms.

Donald Trump’s authoritarian style tested America’s institutions once before – and now, with his return to power in 2025, the most urgent threat to U.S. democracy is unfolding in real time. From the shattering of norms and truth during his first term to an unprecedented second-term assault on the rule of law, American democracy stands at a precipice.

Written early May 2025, updates will be added throughout 2nd Trump term.

On a cold January day in 2021, the unthinkable occurred in Washington, D.C.: a sitting American president refused to accept his electoral defeat, and a mob of his supporters stormed the Capitol building. The world watched in alarm as the foundations of U.S. democracy – a system over two centuries old – trembled under the weight of a fabricated narrative. This was more than a spontaneous riot; it was the culmination of a years-long story told by Donald Trump, a false story about a “stolen” election that drove ordinary citizens to violence at the heart of government. For the first time in modern American history, the peaceful transfer of power was in doubt. The scene was eerily reminiscent of coups and autocratic power grabs in fragile democracies abroad, not an advanced democracy like the United States.

How did the nation reach this precipice? The answer lies in the unprecedented impact of Donald Trump’s presidency on the norms, institutions, and values of American governance – an impact that reverberated around the globe, fueling a rising tide of authoritarianism. Trump’s four years in office (2017–2021) amounted to a stress test of American democracy, revealing both alarming weaknesses and resilient strengths. His 2024 comeback, however, has escalated that test into a full-blown crisis. This essay explores Trump’s legacy and second-term escalation through a narrative journey: examining how a single leader’s rhetoric and actions chipped away at democratic foundations, and how his return to power in 2025 now threatens to transform American democracy beyond recognition.

The story of American democracy in the Trump era is one of conflict between narrative and reality, between raw power and the rule of law, between divisive strongman politics and the checks and balances that restrain them. It is a story whose ending is not yet written. Now, as the United States stands at another crossroads – with the specter of Trump (or a like-minded figure) possibly returning to power – the lessons of his first term carry urgent warnings and hopes for all who care about the future of democracy. What follows is both a chronicle and a call to action, aiming to inspire general readers and inform policy-makers alike about the stakes for our nation’s character, our daily lives, and the global democratic experiment.

The Story That Shattered Reality: Trump’s Big Lie and the Undermining of Truth

It has been said that “the corruption of democracy begins with the corruption of thought — and with the deliberate undermining of reality.” Donald Trump’s political career is a testament to the power of narrative in politics. From the moment he announced his candidacy in 2015, Trump wove a compelling – if deeply misleading – story for his followers. He spoke of a nation in decline, betrayed by elites, infested with “bad hombres,” and rigged against the common people. This narrative of grievance and conspiracy only grew more intense over time. Trump consistently dismissed any information that contradicted his claims as “fake news” and labeled those who challenged him as enemies or traitors. By questioning objective reality and pushing wild conspiracy theories, he cultivated an alternative reality for millions of Americans – a world in which he was always the hero and any setback he faced was due to fraud or treachery.

The most consequential fabrication was the so-called “Big Lie”: the false claim that the 2020 U.S. presidential election was stolen from him. Long before any votes were cast, Trump primed his supporters to distrust the electoral process, insisting that if he lost, it could only be because the vote was “rigged.” This drumbeat of baseless fraud allegations continued even after courts and election officials repeatedly found no evidence of widespread irregularities. When Trump did lose the election, he refused to concede – shattering a democratic norm observed by every U.S. presidential candidate in modern history. Instead, he spent weeks amplifying fantastical theories that voting machines had been hacked or that batches of fake ballots swung decisive states. In one notorious phone call, Trump pressured Georgia’s secretary of state, Brad Raffensperger, to “find” him 11,780 votes – just enough to overturn that state’s result.

As his claims grew more outlandish, they spread like wildfire among supporters through social media echo chambers and sympathetic outlets. Many Americans genuinely came to believe their democracy had been subverted from within. In Arizona, for example, election officials like lifelong Republican Stephen Richer “learned firsthand how easily false stories and conspiracy theories could disorient their colleagues,” making it nearly impossible to do their jobs amidst death threats and public fury. Even Republican lawmakers who knew the fraud allegations were false felt pressured by their base to reject certified results. Former members of Congress described watching colleagues embrace conspiracies they privately knew to be untrue out of fear and partisan loyalty. Trump’s narrative had effectively eclipsed reality for a huge swath of the population.

That alternative reality set the stage for a dramatic confrontation. It came on January 6, 2021. As Congress met to formally count the electoral votes, Trump whipped up a large crowd at a rally by reiterating the fraudulent narrative — that the election was an “absolute theft” and that his followers had to “fight like hell” to save American democracy. The result was an insurrection: thousands of enraged citizens marched to the Capitol, smashed their way inside, and temporarily halted the certification of the election. Gallows were erected outside. Rioters roamed the halls chanting about hanging the Vice President – all fueled by the sincere (but false) belief that they were patriots defending the nation from a stolen election.

It was the first violent assault on the U.S. Capitol since 1814, and it left multiple people dead and scores injured. In the end, reality prevailed – Congress reconvened that night and affirmed Joe Biden’s victory – but the damage was done. The “Big Lie” had corroded public faith in the very mechanism of leadership succession. Polls in the aftermath showed that a majority of Republican voters doubted the legitimacy of the 2020 election, a startling indicator of how deeply Trump’s false story took root. The House of Representatives, in its later investigation, described Trump’s effort to overturn the election as a “multi-part conspiracy to overturn the lawful results,” concluding that he had incited a violent assault on the democratic process.

It’s important to note that Trump’s assault on truth did not begin or end with the 2020 election. Throughout his presidency, fact-checkers documented an unprecedented torrent of false or misleading claims on matters large and small. While all politicians bend the truth at times, Trump’s use of disinformation was qualitatively different. He crafted an entire political identity around rejecting empiricism and authoritative sources. Intelligence agencies, scientists, judges, journalists – any expert who contradicted him – were mocked or accused of bias. This created a “post-truth” environment where policy could be guided by conspiracy theories (as seen when Trump mused about injecting disinfectant to cure COVID-19) and where accountability was undermined by endless obfuscation.

Experts in authoritarianism note that this method of “flooding the zone” with misinformation is a classic tactic: if people are too confused to discern truth, they cannot hold leaders accountable. Indeed, historians and political scientists observed alarming parallels between Trump’s propaganda and strategies used by authoritarians elsewhere. A scholarly analysis in The Annals of the American Academy of Political and Social Science found that Trump “undermined faith in elections, encouraged political violence, vilified the mainstream media, [and] positioned himself as a law-and-order strongman” attacking minority groups and dissent – each of those being a page from the authoritarian playbook.

By weaving a tale of betrayal and insisting that only he told the truth, Trump cultivated a loyal following for whom he became the single source of “real” information. This cult of personality and false narrative proved corrosive to the very fabric of American democracy. A system of government that depends on shared facts and a basic level of trust was straining under a leader who recognized neither. The battle over truth was the first and most fundamental fight, because once truth becomes malleable, power can shape reality to its whims. Trump’s war on objective reality paved the way for him to violate norms and challenge institutions in ways that would have been unthinkable for previous presidents. The story that Trump told – of a system only he could fix, and of opponents who were not just wrong but illegitimate – became a weapon aimed at the heart of constitutional democracy.

Implications & Solutions:

• Democratic Implications: Millions of Americans remain immersed in an alternate reality built on the “Big Lie,” eroding the shared truth that democracy requires. If large segments of the public believe elections are rigged, the risk of political violence and refusal to accept legitimate outcomes persists, putting future peaceful transfers of power in peril.

• Real-World Impact: Election officials and public servants have faced harassment and even death threats for doing their jobs, and ordinary citizens have had relationships torn apart by misinformation-fueled divides. (After 2020, for instance, families and friends split over conspiracy beliefs; about 26% of Americans reported ending a friendship over political differences in recent years.) This breakdown in social trust affects everyday life – from tension at holiday dinners to fear for personal safety during civic events.

• Path to Solutions: Rebuilding a shared sense of reality is an urgent priority. This means supporting robust fact-checking and local journalism, promoting media literacy education to help citizens discern truth from lies, and enacting accountability for public officials who spread egregious falsehoods (for example, professional or legal consequences for those who attempt to subvert certified election results). Tech and media platforms should also be pushed to more actively curb the dissemination of proven falsehoods that poison public discourse. Ultimately, defenders of democracy must tell a better story – one grounded in truth and unity – to compete with the emotionally charged false narratives. Only by restoring trust in factual reality can we ensure that future disagreements are debated on honest terms rather than descending into dangerous delusions.

Breaking the Guardrails: Erosion of Democratic Norms and Values

Democracies depend not only on laws and constitutions, but on unwritten norms – the informal guardrails of behavior, mutual respect, and fair play that keep political competition within civilized bounds. Donald Trump’s tenure represented an unprecedented assault on these democratic norms. Where previous presidents felt bound by traditions of restraint, transparency, and respect for the opposition, Trump gleefully shattered one norm after another. The effect was to weaken the shared understandings that had long undergirded American democratic life, introducing a level of stress and dysfunction not seen in generations.

One of the most sacred norms in a democracy is the willingness of losing candidates to accept defeat and affirm the legitimacy of their opponents. Trump violated this norm repeatedly. Even in 2016 during his first campaign, he shockingly refused to commit to accepting the election results if he lost. (In that case he won, obviating the issue – but his rhetoric planted early seeds of doubt about the electoral process.) Throughout his presidency, he regularly suggested that any election in which his party fared poorly must have been “rigged,” further eroding public confidence in the fairness of elections. After the 2018 midterms, for instance, Trump baselessly alleged fraud in races where his party lost, undermining those results. And of course in 2020 he became the first incumbent president in U.S. history to refuse a peaceful transfer of power.

This was a profound break with the precedent set by George Washington in 1797 and honored by every president since: that the outgoing leader, however disgruntled, recognizes the winner and facilitates a smooth transition. Trump’s refusal not only led to chaos and violence on Jan. 6, but also to a delayed, obstruction-laden transition process that hampered the incoming administration’s preparedness – a dangerously irresponsible act in the midst of a pandemic. It demonstrated a prioritization of personal power over country that astonished observers across the political spectrum.

Trump’s disdain for norms extended far beyond elections. He routinely questioned the legitimacy of his political opponents and critics. Rather than treating opponents as fellow Americans with differences of opinion, he portrayed them as enemies of the state. At rallies, he led chants to “lock up” his 2016 opponent, Hillary Clinton – a norm-shattering embrace of the idea of jailing a political rival without due process. He suggested that Democratic leaders were treasonous or evil, rhetoric that previously was confined to the most extreme fringes. This denial of the opposition’s legitimacy is a hallmark of authoritarian leaders, who reject the idea of a loyal opposition entirely. Scholars of democratic decline point out that a key warning sign is when a politician shows “a weak commitment to democratic rules of the game and a denial of the legitimacy of opponents.” Trump clearly checked those boxes: he implied time and again that only his victory was valid and that his opponents had no rightful claim to power at all.

Another norm that took a beating was the expectation of ethical conduct and separating public service from private gain. Trump turned a blind eye to basic conflict-of-interest standards. Unlike every president in decades, he refused to release his tax returns, breaking a norm of transparency meant to assure the public of a leader’s integrity. He also declined to divest from his vast business holdings, instead using the presidency to promote them – for example, spending roughly a third of his days in office at properties he owned and frequently steering government and foreign business to his own resorts and hotels.

This self-dealing set a tone at the top that ethics were not a priority. The administration became marred by scandals: several Cabinet officials faced investigations for misuse of funds; Trump’s own former attorney Michael Cohen testified that the Trump Organization profited from the presidency; and watchdog groups documented a blurred line between public duties and Trump’s personal and family enrichment. All of this eroded the norm that public office is a public trust. As one editorial put it bluntly, Trump “took nepotism to a new level,” populating the White House with loyalists and family members unqualified for their roles – notably installing his daughter Ivanka Trump and son-in-law Jared Kushner as senior advisors. By giving close relatives and confidants major responsibilities (exploiting loopholes in anti-nepotism laws), he signaled that personal loyalty mattered more than merit or propriety. The result, as the Boston Globe assessed, was “a White House rife with nepotism” and the abandonment of the longstanding expectation that a president rely on independent, qualified advisors rather than family courtiers.

Even the once-unimaginable idea of a president openly flirting with extra-legal rule crept into Trump’s rhetoric. He mused about staying in office beyond constitutional limits, at times retweeting jokes about being “president for life.” In one chilling moment in 2018, after China’s President Xi Jinping abolished term limits, Trump praised the move and quipped, “maybe we’ll give that a shot someday.” Such comments might have been brushed off as ill-advised humor from another politician, but from Trump – who so clearly chafed at any constraints on his power – they rang alarmingly hollow. The soft guardrails of restraint, which rely on a leader’s voluntary respect for democratic norms, were simply absent. As a former Trump national security official observed, Trump seemed to have “autocrat envy,” openly admiring dictators’ unfettered power and “frequently praising autocrats who don’t have to worry about such limits” as constitutions or legislatures.

Unsurprisingly, these behaviors had measurable effects on the quality of U.S. democracy. Independent watchdogs and experts began downgrading America’s democratic standing during Trump’s presidency. In early 2018, Freedom House – a nonpartisan organization that tracks democracy worldwide – warned of an “accelerating decline” in U.S. political norms. Their report noted “further, faster erosion of America’s own democratic standards than at any time in memory,” adding that core institutions “were attacked by an administration that rejects established norms of ethical conduct”. Indeed, Freedom House moved the United States down in its annual Freedom in the World rankings during those years.

Likewise, the Economist Intelligence Unit’s Democracy Index in 2017 reclassified the U.S. from a “full democracy” to a “flawed democracy” for the first time, citing declining trust and the erosion of civil norms. By 2020, multiple democracy indices showed significant declines for the United States. Political scientists who study democratic backsliding observed that the Trump era “accelerated the undermining of democratic norms” in the U.S. All these metrics underscored a sobering reality: the guardrails Americans had long taken for granted were no longer assured. The informal rules – from accepting election outcomes, to avoiding nepotism and corruption, to treating political opponents as legitimate – had been badly weakened on Trump’s watch.

The erosion of democratic norms might not be as immediately dramatic as a constitutional crisis or a violent event, but its effects are pervasive and pernicious. Norms are like the glue that holds the machinery of democracy together. When leaders flout them brazenly, it encourages others to do the same and creates a new, lower standard of behavior. By behaving as though rules did not apply to him, Trump normalized conduct that was once considered beyond the pale. The result is that future leaders may feel freer to push the boundaries even further.

This normalization of deviance poses a grave long-term threat. As one conservative commentator-turned-Trump critic remarked, “We are approaching DEFCON 1 for our democracy… the most dangerous thing is the normalization of it.” Indeed, what was once outrageous becomes expected if it goes unchallenged. Trump’s presidency gave the United States a taste of that danger – the realization that the soft guardrails can break, and when they do, the hard laws and institutions must strain to hold together.

Implications & Solutions:

• Democratic Implications: The shredding of unwritten norms under Trump has lowered the bar for political behavior. Actions once thought unconscionable – refusing to concede an election, profiting from the presidency, demonizing opponents as traitors – are now precedents that future leaders might imitate. This “new normal” makes American democracy more vulnerable to abuse, because if basic civility and ethical self-restraint are gone, formal institutions can be more easily hijacked by a determined autocrat. It also fosters public cynicism: if people see leaders flouting rules without consequence, they lose faith that the system operates fairly or that public servants are truly serving the public.

• Real-World Impact: The erosion of norms trickles down into everyday governance and civic life. For instance, when nepotism and corruption become accepted at the top, it can lead to inefficiency and mistrust in public services that ordinary citizens rely on. When political discourse becomes a no-holds-barred grudge match, average people increasingly view those who disagree not as neighbors with different views but as enemies – fraying community bonds. Ultimately, a society that condones lies, conflicts of interest, and calls to jail opponents will see polarization deepen and talented people shun public service (fearing a toxic environment), which hurts everyone.

• Path to Solutions: While norms by definition can’t all be legislated, key ones can be buttressed by law and by a culture of accountability. Reforms should be pursued to codify certain norms into clear rules – for example, mandating financial transparency (such as requiring presidential candidates to release tax returns by law), tightening ethics and anti-nepotism regulations for the White House, and strengthening conflict-of-interest laws so no future president can personally profit from the office. Bi-partisan action is crucial: both parties should publicly recommit to fundamental democratic courtesy (like accepting election results and refraining from violent rhetoric) and ostracize those who violate these norms. Civic education can also play a role: teaching new generations about the importance of democratic sportsmanship and the idea that “losing is part of the process” in a healthy democracy. Finally, the media and civil society must keep shining a spotlight on norm-busting behavior – normalizing integrity instead. When politicians face social and political backlash (or legal repercussions) for breaching democratic decorum, it raises the cost of doing so. Over time, re-establishing a shared expectation of honorable conduct in politics – and celebrating leaders who uphold those standards – can help mend the torn guardrails.

An Unchecked Executive: Undermining the Rule of Law and Institutions of Governance

If democratic norms are the soft guardrails of the republic, formal institutions are the steel framework. The United States’ system of government is built on a separation of powers – Congress makes laws, an independent judiciary interprets them, and the executive branch enforces them – along with a professional civil service and law enforcement infrastructure meant to operate impartially. Donald Trump’s presidency tested these institutions as never before, as he repeatedly attempted to bend them to his personal will. Time and again, Trump exhibited a view of governance that was transactional and autocratic: officials were expected to be loyal to him above all, investigations that threatened him were “witch hunts” to be quashed, and legal limits were to be challenged or circumvented. While the institutions ultimately survived his term, many were left weakened, scarred, or newly politicized. The rule of law – the principle that no person, not even the president, is above the law – came under direct assault.

Perhaps the most critical arena was the U.S. Justice Department and the judiciary. Traditionally, presidents maintain a careful distance from law enforcement matters to avoid any appearance of politicizing justice. Trump obliterated that norm. He publicly and privately pressured the Justice Department to go after his political enemies and to drop investigations into his allies. Early in his tenure, when the FBI – led by his own appointee, Director James Comey – was investigating Russian interference in the 2016 election and potential links to Trump’s campaign, Trump demanded personal loyalty from Comey. According to Comey’s sworn testimony, the president told him, “I need loyalty, I expect loyalty” – a chilling request that echoed mafia bosses more than democratic leaders.

When Comey did not pledge loyalty and continued the Russia investigation, Trump summarily fired him in May 2017, later admitting on national TV that “this Russia thing” was a factor in the dismissal. That firing triggered the appointment of Special Counsel Robert Mueller to continue the inquiry, but Trump’s interference did not stop there. The Mueller investigation documented numerous instances where Trump tried to impede the inquiry – from ordering Mueller’s firing (an order White House Counsel Don McGahn refused to carry out) to dangling presidential pardons to influence the testimony of witnesses. Though Mueller, in the end, did not charge Trump with a crime (citing Justice Department policy against indicting a sitting president), the pattern was clear: Trump saw law enforcement as a tool to be controlled or bludgeoned if it threatened him.

Under Attorney General William Barr – who often appeared more interested in protecting the president than in upholding impartial justice – the Justice Department took actions that alarmed many inside and outside the agency. In 2020, senior DOJ officials overruled career prosecutors to seek a lighter sentence for Roger Stone, a longtime Trump friend convicted of perjury and obstruction on Trump’s behalf; the interference was so egregious that the entire trial team resigned in protest. Similarly, the DOJ abruptly moved to drop charges against Michael Flynn, Trump’s former National Security Advisor who had pleaded guilty to lying to the FBI – an extraordinary reversal of a completed prosecution, widely seen as politically motivated. Inspectors General, the independent watchdogs of federal agencies, were fired or sidelined when their investigations got too close to Trump’s inner circle.

By one count, Trump removed or pushed out at least 17 Inspectors General across various departments, including the intelligence community IG who had handled the whistleblower complaint that led to Trump’s first impeachment. This purge of watchdogs undermined oversight and sent a clear signal throughout the government: loyalty to Trump was prized over honesty and lawful conduct. A House committee letter in 2020 decried this “late-night purge” of independent inspectors as a serious threat to accountability. In a particularly brazen move, Trump went on to commute Roger Stone’s prison sentence and pardon Michael Flynn, as well as other loyalists convicted of federal crimes, effectively rewarding those who protected him. The Boston Globe noted that Trump’s abuse of the pardon power to reward political allies set “a precedent for a future authoritarian leader to commit crimes without consequence” – showing future presidents that pardons could be used to insulate themselves and their associates from the law.

The independence of the judiciary also came under direct verbal attack. When judges ruled against Trump’s policies – whether blocking executive orders or dismissing lawsuits he favored – he lashed out at them as partisan or illegitimate. He infamously insulted a federal judge overseeing a case related to Trump University, calling him “Mexican” and implying his heritage made him biased (though the judge, Gonzalo Curiel, is an American born in Indiana). In another instance, after a judge appointed by President Obama ruled against one of Trump’s immigration orders, Trump sneered about the “Obama judge.” This drew a rare public rebuke from Chief Justice John Roberts, who responded firmly: “We do not have Obama judges or Trump judges… What we have is an extraordinary group of dedicated judges doing their level best to do equal right to those appearing before them.” Roberts’ unprecedented defense of judicial independence underscored how abnormal the situation was – the Chief Justice felt compelled to assure the public that the courts were still fair and impartial. Yet Trump doubled down, later criticizing Roberts and continuing to label judges by who appointed them, as though their rulings were merely political payback.

In late 2020, when dozens of judges (many of them Republican-appointed) rejected Trump’s frivolous election-fraud lawsuits, he attacked them too – even the Supreme Court justices he himself had appointed became targets when they didn’t do his bidding. By routinely impugning judges and suggesting they lacked independence, Trump undermined public trust in one of the pillars of democracy: the idea that courts are forums for impartial justice. Freedom House noted with concern that in the U.S., “the media and the judiciary – both of which have a long history of independence – face acute pressure from the Trump administration, whose smears threaten to undermine their legitimacy.” In other countries, such sustained executive attacks on the judiciary often presage attempts to pack courts with loyalists or ignore judicial orders. While Trump did aggressively appoint over 200 judges (a president’s right when the Senate concurs), he at times mused about simply defying court rulings he disliked – hinting at autocratic impulses even if he didn’t fully act on them.

Beyond the justice system, Trump showed contempt for the professional civil service and the ideal of an apolitical administration of government. He frequently referred to the government’s permanent bureaucracy as the “Deep State,” implying a shadowy conspiracy of officials out to undermine him. Career experts – from intelligence analysts to scientists at the weather agency – found themselves attacked or muzzled if their work contradicted the president’s preferences or ego. For instance, after Trump mistakenly asserted that a hurricane was likely to hit Alabama, the NOAA weather agency was pressured to back his false claim, and officials who had corrected the record were castigated. Whistleblowers who exposed misconduct (such as the withholding of military aid to Ukraine, which triggered Trump’s first impeachment) were ridiculed, outed, or fired.

Perhaps most telling was Trump’s approach to those in charge of enforcing laws within the executive branch: inspectors general, independent-minded officials, and anyone insisting on truth over loyalty were pushed out or marginalized. By the end of his term, Trump had effectively hollowed out or cowed many of the oversight functions in the executive branch. The number of vacant or “acting” positions in key agencies – allowing him to circumvent Senate confirmation and keep officials beholden only to him – hit historic highs. Seasoned government experts were replaced by sycophants in multiple departments. Even in the midst of a global pandemic, Trump sidelined scientists (like the CDC experts) and elevated advisors with no relevant expertise because they flattered his views. The cumulative effect was a government much more oriented around one man’s whims, rather than evidence or the public interest.

Trump’s critics described these moves as an attempt to “consolidate power” in his own hands – a strategy not unlike that of illiberal leaders elsewhere. Indeed, The Atlantic’s series on “Autocracy in America” noted that placing loyalists in key roles and purging dissenters are textbook autocratic maneuvers – tactics seen in countries where democracy has given way to strongman rule. The comparison to other times and places is instructive: historically, demagogues who come to power in democracies (whether in 1930s Europe or more recently in Turkey or Venezuela) often begin by politicizing law enforcement and eroding checks on their authority. Trump’s behavior in office fit this pattern to an unsettling degree. Ruth Ben-Ghiat, a historian of authoritarianism, points out that strongmen seek to project an image of infallibility and use the machinery of government to shield themselves while targeting opponents – and Trump openly yearned to do exactly that.

Despite all these efforts, it is important to note that the system did not fully capitulate. Many institutions and officials resisted Trump’s pressure, at least to a point. The FBI and intelligence community continued to investigate foreign election interference and domestic extremism, even under presidential duress. Judges repeatedly ruled based on law and evidence, not loyalty – dozens of court decisions went against Trump’s wishes, and those rulings held firm. State and local election officials (many of them Republicans) certified honest results in 2020 despite immense pressure and threats, proving more loyal to the Constitution than to a party or president.

Inspectors General, even when fired, often managed to get the truth out in key instances (as happened with the Ukraine aid scandal). And in the final days of his term, when Trump reportedly entertained outrageous ideas like invoking martial law to re-run the election or using the military to seize voting machines, senior military and civilian officials signaled they would not go along. These acts of institutional resilience were reassuring, but they also relied on the courage of individuals under great pressure. The guardrails bent but did not break entirely – a testament to the remaining strength of the rule of law, yet also a warning of how much depended on a few people doing the right thing. As one analysis in Foreign Affairs noted, the American establishment (across media, courts, and civil society) mounted an “energetic defense of democracy” during Trump’s term. Even so, the close calls revealed how vulnerable the system can be when an authoritarian-minded leader is at the helm.

In summary, Trump’s presidency strained the institutions of American governance in ways not seen in living memory. He tested the notion that the president is constrained by law – disregarding subpoenas and stonewalling Congress, abusing executive orders and emergency powers (for instance, diverting military funds to build a border wall after Congress refused to allocate those funds), and seeking personal control of justice. His philosophy, to the extent it could be called one, seemed to be that the presidency should wield unchecked authority. This mindset was crystallized in an angry outburst where Trump lamented, “Where is my Roy Cohn?” – longing for a personal fixer in the Justice Department who would do his bidding, much as the infamous lawyer Roy Cohn had done for him in private life (and for Senator Joseph McCarthy in the 1950s).

The framers of the U.S. Constitution designed our government explicitly to prevent a king-like figure from ruling by personal fiat. Trump’s tenure was a dramatic experiment in pushing against those constitutional constraints. It forced Americans to ask: Can our institutions withstand a willful president who does not respect them? The experience of 2017–2021 suggests the answer was yes – but only just. In the struggle to maintain the rule of law, officials and citizens alike were awakened to how much brute determination and vigilance is required to keep an autocratic-leaning leader in check. The rule of law survived, but it emerged bruised and in need of repair and reinforcement if it is to withstand similar assaults in the future.

Implications & Solutions:

• Democratic Implications: Trump’s behavior in office showed how a determined leader can politicize and deform institutions meant to be impartial. The Justice Department’s credibility was compromised, the ideal of blind justice was tarnished, and the public’s trust that the law applies equally to the powerful suffered a blow. If such assaults on rule of law recur – or if a future president with fewer scruples and greater effectiveness picks up where Trump left off – the danger is that America’s checks and balances could fail. A politicized DOJ, pliant courts, and a purged civil service would amount to democratic collapse in slow motion, replacing rule-of-law governance with rule-by-loyalists.

• Real-World Impact: For everyday Americans, the integrity of institutions like the courts, law enforcement, and federal agencies is not an abstract matter – it affects their rights and safety. We rely on independent courts to uphold contracts and civil rights, on a professional FBI to catch criminals and spies without political bias, on agencies like FEMA to respond to disasters competently rather than based on loyalty. When those institutions are subverted, services deteriorate and justice becomes uneven. Under Trump, for example, some communities felt the effect of politicized decision-making (witness the chaos in the COVID-19 response as scientific voices were sidelined for political convenience, contributing to higher death tolls). If rule of law erodes, ordinary people can no longer count on fair treatment – whether it’s a court case or the enforcement of environmental protections in their neighborhood.

• Path to Solutions: The United States must fortify the independence and resilience of its institutions before the next crisis. This means enacting reforms to protect the Justice Department from improper political interference (some experts suggest formalizing guidelines that were once just norms – for instance, limiting White House contacts with DOJ about specific investigations). Whistleblower protections and the independence of Inspectors General should be strengthened by law, so they cannot be removed or silenced as easily in retaliation for doing their jobs. The tenure of key watchdogs could be made more secure (for example, requiring cause and congressional notification to fire an Inspector General). Additionally, Congress can play a stronger role in oversight: ensuring that subpoenas can be enforced swiftly so that no president can simply ignore legislative scrutiny. Civil service protections need to be safeguarded against attempts to create “loyalty tests” (as Trump contemplated with a proposed executive order to reclassify thousands of civil servants so he could fire them at will). At the same time, a renewed civic norm must be established that law enforcement is not the tool of any one leader – future presidents, regardless of party, should publicly commit to respecting DOJ’s prosecutorial independence, and Congress should hold them to it. Finally, public awareness is a bulwark: citizens need to understand why it’s dangerous for a president to, say, demand personal loyalty from an FBI director or call for jailing political rivals. Broad public condemnation of such behavior can dissuade officials from complying with illegal or unethical orders. The rule of law is ultimately an ecosystem of laws, norms, and vigilance. Strengthening it will require action on all those fronts – legal reforms, cultural recommitments, and an engaged populace that insists that no leader is above the law.

“Enemy of the People”: The War on the Free Press and the Subversion of Truth

When the Founders enshrined freedom of the press in the First Amendment, they recognized that a free press is essential to democracy – serving as a watchdog over the powerful and a source of reliable information for citizens. Autocrats, by contrast, have long understood that controlling information and muzzling independent media are key to maintaining their power. In this respect, Donald Trump’s attitudes and actions toward the press were strikingly authoritarian. From the start of his political rise, Trump cast the news media as a villain. He called journalists “liars,” “scum,” and – borrowing a phrase from some of history’s darkest regimes – “the enemy of the people.” The effect of this relentless campaign was to delegitimize one of the pillars of a free society and to leave a large segment of Americans distrustful of any news that did not flatter their chosen leader. Trump’s war on the press not only harmed America’s informational ecosystem; it also emboldened foreign strongmen to clamp down on media in their own countries, as they eagerly cited the American president’s example to justify their repression.

Trump’s broadsides against the press became a staple of his public persona. At rallies, he would single out journalists in the back of the venue, gesturing at them and whipping the crowd into jeering at the “fake news.” He tweeted vitriolic insults at reporters, sometimes targeting individual journalists by name, and often did so dozens of times a day. Critical stories were met not with factual rebuttals but with blanket denials and attacks on the outlet’s credibility. Over time, the term “fake news” – which originally referred to forgeries and disinformation – was co-opted by Trump to mean any reporting he didn’t like, regardless of its veracity. This inversion of meaning was telling: in Trump’s view, truth was defined by loyalty to Trump. If a media organization challenged him, it was by definition spreading falsehoods. If a narrative could be concocted to support him, truth became optional. Perhaps most ominously, Trump repeatedly labeled the press as “the enemy of the American people.”

This exact phrasing has historical echoes; notably, “enemy of the people” was used by Joseph Stalin to brand his critics and justify silencing or imprisoning them. Many Americans were chilled that a U.S. president would use a Stalinist slogan to denounce journalists, essentially painting them as traitors to their country. The consequences were immediate and tangible: journalists in the U.S. began receiving more death threats than ever; news organizations had to hire security for reporters at Trump rallies; and open hostility toward the press became a badge of partisan loyalty for many of his supporters. In one telling incident in 2018, a fervent Trump supporter mailed pipe bombs to CNN’s offices and to several Democratic figures. Thankfully no one was hurt, but the suspect’s van was found plastered with pro-Trump slogans and anti-media messages – a literal vehicle of the president’s rhetoric turned into potential violence.

By 2019, the situation for American journalists had deteriorated enough that Reporters Without Borders (RSF), an international press freedom watchdog, downgraded the United States to a “problematic” country for journalists’ safety. The U.S. ranking in RSF’s World Press Freedom Index fell to 48th in the world – the lowest ranking for America in modern history. In explaining this downgrade, the RSF report explicitly pointed to President Trump’s behavior: “Never before have US journalists been subjected to so many death threats,” it noted, adding that Trump “exacerbates” the danger with his constant attacks on the media.

The report cited his repeated declaration that journalists are the “enemy of the people,” his ubiquitous cries of “fake news,” and even his administration’s actions such as trying to revoke TV broadcasters’ licenses or strip reporters of White House credentials when coverage displeased him. All of this, RSF concluded, created an environment in which verbal and physical attacks on journalists were increasingly common. Indeed, under Trump, Americans witnessed scenes they might associate with authoritarian countries: a Guardian reporter was body-slammed by a congressional candidate (who was nonetheless endorsed by Trump and won his election), a BBC cameraman was attacked at a Trump rally, and many reporters covering street protests (such as Black Lives Matter demonstrations) were targeted by both police and vigilantes who seemed to feel licensed by Trump’s anti-media animus.

Beyond rhetoric, the Trump White House took concrete steps that undermined press access and accountability. Trump broke with decades of tradition by effectively ending the daily White House press briefing – once a staple of government transparency – because he disliked tough questioning. His press secretaries, when they did speak, often stonewalled or lied openly to reporters. The administration also attempted to bar specific reporters who pressed too hard; in one notorious case, the White House revoked CNN correspondent Jim Acosta’s press credentials until a court ordered them restored on First Amendment grounds.

Behind the scenes, Trump and his aides leaned on media executives, complaining about negative coverage and even reportedly threatening antitrust actions against media owners. (For example, Trump mused about blocking a merger involving CNN’s parent company, Time Warner, as retribution for CNN’s critical reporting.) While some of these threats weren’t ultimately acted on, the mere fact that a president would brazenly discuss using government power to punish critical coverage marked a sharp departure from accepted democratic norms. It sent a clear signal to other politicians – and to autocrats abroad – that press freedom was no longer sacrosanct in the United States.

The chilling effect on journalism was felt not just in Washington newsrooms but across the country. Local newspapers and TV stations, often owned by larger media groups, found themselves labeled “fake news” or an “enemy” if they crossed Trump. Simultaneously, right-wing media outlets that uncritically toed the Trump line – Fox News’s prime-time shows, One America News Network (OANN), Newsmax, and the like – were elevated and praised by Trump, creating a bifurcated media reality. Tens of millions of Americans increasingly tuned in only to sources that reinforced Trump’s narratives and cast doubt on all others.

In essence, Trump helped construct a parallel media universe aligned with his post-truth politics. This had dangerous implications: when the COVID-19 pandemic struck in 2020, Trump’s promotion of false information (like downplaying the virus or touting unproven “cures”) was echoed in those friendly outlets, leading many to mistrust scientific guidance. In the throes of a public health emergency, the media polarization became literally a matter of life and death, as public health experts struggled to reach an audience that believed the mainstream press was lying about the virus – a belief stoked by the President himself.

Internationally, Trump’s stance toward the press provided cover for repressive regimes. Leaders like Vladimir Putin, China’s Xi Jinping, and others all benefit when the notion of a “free press” loses credibility. Under Trump, U.S. diplomats could no longer consistently champion press freedom abroad without inviting charges of hypocrisy. In fact, foreign autocrats openly echoed Trump’s slogans. The phrase “fake news” was eagerly adopted by rulers in countries such as the Philippines, Turkey, Venezuela, and Syria to dismiss unfavorable reporting on their abuses. Philippine President Rodrigo Duterte, for instance, justified banning critical outlets by citing “fake news” and received nothing but praise from Trump despite Duterte’s well-documented oppressive tactics.

In 2018, when a Saudi Arabian hit squad brutally murdered journalist Jamal Khashoggi (a U.S. resident) for his writings, Trump downplayed U.S. intelligence findings about the Saudi crown prince’s responsibility and instead emphasized Saudi denials and the importance of oil prices. This reluctance to hold an ally accountable for murdering a journalist – even one who lived in America – signaled a stark departure from prior U.S. principles. Autocrats got the message: under Trump, the U.S. government would not stand up for a free press, even in extreme cases.

To be sure, Trump did not single-handedly create America’s media polarization or public distrust in media; those trends were growing due to broader forces like partisan echo chambers and social media silos. But he poured gasoline on the fire. By the end of his term, trust in mainstream press among Republicans had cratered to record lows. The very idea of “objective truth” had been so battered that many Americans simply aligned their sense of reality with whichever media aligned with their political identity. This is a deeply worrying development for democracy: a citizenry that cannot even agree on basic facts is unlikely to find common ground or hold leaders accountable. Journalist Anne Applebaum observed that Trump’s sustained assault on factuality and the media was akin to tactics she had seen in communist Eastern Europe – a “regime of disorientation” where no one knows what to believe, which ultimately benefits whoever has the loudest megaphone or the most power.

And yet, the American press proved to be one of the bulwarks against Trump’s authoritarian tendencies. Despite the harassment and threats, investigative journalists continued to dig into abuses of power, and major stories – from the depths of the Russia investigation, to Trump’s long-hidden tax records, to the Ukraine pressure scandal that led to impeachment – came to light thanks to a dogged free press. In the end, even many citizens who cheered Trump’s media-bashing still relied on local news or mainstream sources for practical information (like weather reports or community news), a tacit acknowledgment that the press, for all its flaws, remained vital.

The press as an institution withstood the attempted onslaught, though not without cost. Trump’s years in office normalized a level of hostility toward journalism that will not be easily undone. Future demagogues have a blueprint for rallying supporters against the media, and journalists know that a significant portion of the public might reflexively disbelieve even the most rigorously factual reporting if it reflects poorly on their preferred leader. In sum, Trump’s war on the press damaged one of the vital organs of democracy – the information bloodstream – and by doing so, threatened to leave the public disoriented and divided. That outcome is advantageous only to authoritarians, who thrive when people are too confused or cynical to discern truth.

Implications & Solutions:

• Democratic Implications: A free press is often called democracy’s immune system – it detects and informs the public of societal “infections” like corruption or abuse. Trump’s war on the press weakened that immune system. If journalists are discredited and intimidated, wrongdoing in government can flourish unchecked and citizens are left in the dark. Widespread loss of trust in media means a large chunk of the population is cut off from shared factual reality, complicating every collective decision from voting to public health. In extreme cases, if a future leader were to take more direct control of media, the foundation for open debate and accountability could crumble entirely.

• Real-World Impact: On a human level, Trump’s rhetoric put reporters in physical danger – something most Americans never expected to see in their own country. Journalists now routinely face harassment, threats, and online stalking. This climate could deter investigative reporting, meaning important stories affecting citizens’ daily lives (exposés on local corruption, health hazards, etc.) might never come to light. Moreover, ordinary Americans are impacted when they cannot agree on basic facts with neighbors – whether it’s about a pandemic or election results – because their news sources are polarized. We saw families divided over which “truth” to trust during COVID, and confusion about critical guidance (like mask efficacy) was amplified in communities that followed conspiracy-tinged media. In short, when the information environment is poisoned, everyone navigates daily life with less certainty and more mistrust.

• Path to Solutions: Rebuilding trust in media and protecting press freedom will require concerted effort on multiple fronts. Politicians and leaders should cease using inflammatory anti-press language – it should become unacceptable across the spectrum to label the press as the “enemy” or encourage roughing up reporters. Such rhetoric needs to be socially stigmatized. Simultaneously, media organizations must continue to uphold high standards and demonstrate fairness, to win back skeptics. Initiatives that bring journalists into communities to listen to public concerns can help bridge the trust gap. On the policy side, strong legal protections for journalists and whistleblowers must remain in place and be enforced; any violence or threats against media should be prosecuted vigorously to signal zero tolerance. Media literacy education is crucial for the next generation: schools should teach students how to evaluate sources, recognize propaganda, and understand the role of a free press, so they are less susceptible to demagogic attacks on credible news. Social media companies, which are a major news vector now, also have a role: they can adjust algorithms to prevent outright false content from spreading like wildfire and to elevate trusted local news sources. Internationally, the U.S. should resume its advocacy for press freedom, starting with the example at home – for instance, holding regular press briefings and engaging with reporters respectfully – so that America can again credibly urge other nations to protect journalists. In short, winning the “battle of truth” requires both defending the messengers (journalists) and educating the receivers (the public) so that facts can regain their power. A democracy cannot function if nearly half the country dismisses everything reported by independent media; healing this rift is essential to restoring a common civic narrative.

Divide and Conquer: Polarization, Grievance, and the Politics of Fear

Democracy depends on a certain degree of social cohesion – a recognition of common bonds and a willingness to tolerate differences in the name of the common good. Donald Trump’s political strategy, however, thrived on polarization and division. He rose to power by exploiting and exacerbating societal rifts: between left and right, urban and rural, “educated elites” and “real working people,” and frequently white Christian Americans versus immigrants or minorities. By stoking grievance and fear, Trump created an “us vs. them” dynamic in which he cast himself as the champion of the aggrieved “us” against various scapegoated “thems.”

This politics of division had profound implications for democratic culture. It eroded the middle ground, encouraged tribal thinking over civic unity, and even flirted with political violence as Trump tacitly (and sometimes overtly) signaled approval of supporters taking aggressive action against perceived enemies. In many ways, his approach mirrored illiberal populists in other countries – a style of leadership that claims to speak for “the people” against purported corrupt elites, while demonizing outsiders and minorities. The result was an America even more deeply split, with rising tolerance for anti-democratic ideas among segments of the populace.

A key aspect of Trump’s divisive politics was leveraging racial and ethnic tensions as rallying tools. His very first campaign speech infamously labeled Mexican immigrants as rapists and criminals, setting the tone for a nativist, hardline stance on immigration. As president, he enacted a ban on travel from several Muslim-majority countries (widely called the “Muslim ban”), a policy he had indeed advertised on the campaign trail as a “total shutdown” of Muslims entering the U.S. Such moves sent an unmistakable message about who “belongs” in Trump’s America and who is viewed with suspicion. He also equivocated about condemning white supremacists. Most notoriously, after a 2017 neo-Nazi rally in Charlottesville, Virginia – where a white supremacist murdered a counter-protester – Trump insisted there were “very fine people on both sides,” refusing to explicitly denounce the torch-bearing extremists.

This reluctance to confront far-right racism emboldened hate groups. Ku Klux Klan-affiliated figures and other white nationalist leaders openly celebrated Trump’s words as validation of their cause. Indeed, the FBI recorded spikes in hate crimes during the 2016 campaign year and again in 2017, suggesting that Trump’s rhetoric emboldened certain individuals to act on their bigotry. The president’s language – whether calling African nations “shithole countries” or telling four congresswomen of color to “go back” to where they came from – shattered norms of inclusivity and civility, and further polarized the country along lines of identity. For Americans in the targeted groups, this was not just abstract rhetoric; it was felt as a daily atmosphere of hostility and fear, a sense that the highest office in the land was encouraging prejudice against them.

Trump also fueled a cultivated resentment against “coastal elites,” experts, and any Americans not firmly in his camp. He portrayed liberal or progressive Americans not just as political rivals, but as existential threats to the country’s values – branding them as socialists, anarchists, or haters of America. Conversely, he and his followers were framed as the true patriots holding the line. This framing served to justify extreme measures: if one is convinced that the other side will literally destroy the nation, one becomes more willing to condone undemocratic actions to prevent that outcome. Trump frequently claimed that if Democrats gained power, they would “destroy your way of life” – language aimed at heightening an almost apocalyptic fear of the opposition. Such rhetoric, unsurprisingly, had an impact on public attitudes.

Studies during the Trump era showed a correlation between intense partisan polarization and an openness to authoritarian ideas among voters. In mid-2017, a survey by political scientists found that about three in ten Americans (and a higher proportion of Trump supporters) said they would favor “a strong leader who doesn’t have to bother with Congress or elections,” or even military rule, in some cases. These startling numbers reflected an erosion of democratic culture – a significant minority so distrustful or fearful of the “other side” that they would countenance an end to democratic governance if it kept their opponents out of power.

Under Trump’s watch, political violence and intimidation crept further from the fringes into mainstream politics. On several occasions, Trump explicitly glorified or winked at violence against opponents. During his 2016 campaign, he encouraged rally attendees to “knock the crap out of” hecklers and even said he’d pay their legal fees. As president, he continued to flirt with vigilantism: he praised a congressman who had assaulted a reporter, and in 2020 during nationwide protests over racial injustice, he cheered on a militia-like armed civilian group in Kenosha, Wisconsin, after one of its teenage members shot and killed two protesters. In a live presidential debate in 2020, when asked to disavow the extremist Proud Boys, Trump instead addressed them with “stand back and stand by,” which the group gleefully interpreted as encouragement and a kind of validation.

Far-right militias and conspiracy-driven groups (like the QAnon movement) felt a kinship with Trump – they saw him as a leader who validated their belief that they might need to take up arms to “save” the country. It is notable that in surveys and court documents involving extremists arrested after the Jan. 6 Capitol attack, many explicitly cited Trump’s words as their inspiration or justification. The increase in violent political rhetoric was evident: armed protests at state capitols became more common, and in one shocking 2020 plot, militia members schemed to kidnap the governor of Michigan after Trump tweeted “LIBERATE MICHIGAN!” in anger over her COVID-19 safety orders.

For a sitting president to traffic in memes about civil war or to refuse to clearly oppose armed paramilitaries was unprecedented in modern American history. This, too, mirrored traits of authoritarians: tolerating or encouraging violence by their supporters to intimidate opponents. While the United States did not descend into widespread violence under Trump, the barriers to political violence certainly fell. The Capitol insurrection was the most dramatic example, but there were other flare-ups and close calls. Experts have warned that the mainstreaming of violent rhetoric could have long-term corrosive effects, potentially leading to more domestic terrorism or intimidation in future elections if not countered.

Trump’s politics of fear and division also targeted civil society and dissent in troubling ways. Peaceful protest is a cornerstone of democratic expression, but under Trump it was often met with contempt or even force if the protesters’ cause wasn’t one he favored. During Black Lives Matter protests in summer 2020 – which were overwhelmingly peaceful, though accompanied by some unrest – Trump characterized demonstrators as dangerous rioters and at one point sought to invoke the Insurrection Act to deploy active-duty military on U.S. soil (a measure not used in over 50 years, widely seen as disproportionate). In Washington D.C., he infamously had federal officers violently clear Lafayette Square of peaceful protesters (using tear gas, batons, and horses) so that he could stage a photo op with a Bible in front of a church. The message from these actions was clear: dissenters would be shown force, not engaged or heard.

In cities like Portland, Oregon, that summer, unidentified federal agents in military gear pulled protestors into unmarked vans – tactics chillingly reminiscent of authoritarian regimes’ secret police. Civil libertarians expressed alarm that Trump was treating American citizens as enemy combatants on domestic soil. Meanwhile, Trump showed sympathy for armed right-wing protests against COVID-19 lockdowns – for example, when armed protesters entered the Michigan statehouse to oppose health measures, Trump called them “very good people” and urged Michigan’s governor to negotiate with them. This stark double standard – peaceful liberal or racial-justice protesters treated as thugs, while aggressive right-wing protesters were indulged – further inflamed divisions.

One side of America saw a president inching toward tyranny by suppressing legitimate dissent; the other side saw a leader who championed their freedoms against what he portrayed as left-wing chaos. The net effect was a collapse of any neutral ground – virtually every issue became a polarized battlefront, from mask-wearing to election procedures to what children are taught in school. By the end of Trump’s term, Americans were (and remain) deeply split not just on policy, but on basic values and even basic facts – a dangerous situation that weakens the shared commitment to resolving conflicts through democratic means.

In comparative perspective, what happened in the U.S. mirrors patterns seen in other democracies that have backslid. In Hungary, Prime Minister Viktor Orbán rose to power using anti-immigrant fear and us-vs-them nationalist messaging; once in office, he systematically dismantled institutional checks and demonized opponents, transforming a once-promising democracy into effectively a soft autocracy by 2020. In Turkey, President Erdoğan similarly rallied a conservative religious base against secular “elites” and minority groups, fostering polarization that accompanied his gradual power grab and crackdown on dissent.

Scholars Robert Kaufman and Stephan Haggard have noted “striking parallels” between the polarization and autocratic rhetoric in Trump-era U.S. and countries like Hungary, Turkey, and Venezuela. In all these cases, leaders played on divisions to justify concentrating power and marginalizing opponents. The social fabric in such polarized societies becomes tattered, making it easier for would-be authoritarians to claim they must take “extraordinary measures” to maintain order or “protect” their segment of “the people” against the demonized Other.

By the end of Trump’s presidency, the American public was not only more divided, but segments of it had become openly hostile to core democratic principles like pluralism, tolerance, and compromise. The taboo against extremist associations in politics weakened: for example, a sitting congressman from Trump’s party (in 2021, after Trump’s term) felt emboldened to speak at an event organized by white nationalists, and others embraced or at least excused the QAnon conspiracy theory. These were things that once would have resulted in swift bipartisan condemnation, but in the Trump era, partisan tribalism often trumped basic democratic values. Even after the Jan. 6 insurrection – a moment one might have expected to unify leaders in defense of the Capitol and Constitution – polling showed many Republicans excusing or even supporting the attack. That was the culmination of months (indeed, years) of Trump’s narrative conditioning and the deep partisan cleavages he fomented.

The cumulative impact of this polarization on democracy is hard to overstate. Democracy is not just a set of institutions; it’s also a culture and a social contract. It requires a minimal level of trust among citizens and a baseline of goodwill between the public and institutions. Trump’s legacy includes a marked decline in that trust. Americans increasingly came to view those in the other party not as fellow citizens who happen to disagree, but as enemies or threats to the country. Surveys found that both Republicans and Democrats were, by the end of Trump’s term, far more likely to describe the opposing party as not just wrong, but dangerous and “destroying America.”

When political identity becomes that existential, the stage is set for a zero-sum mentality where winning justifies any means. As the saying goes, democracy dies when political factions would rather see the system break than let their rivals govern. While Trump did not create all the divisions he exploited – many predated him, such as economic inequality, racial tensions, and cultural conflicts – he poured salt in every wound and thrived politically from the discord. It is a testament to the underlying stability of American institutions that the system held together at all during such strain.

But the scars remain, and healing them is an enormous challenge. The story of Trump’s impact on America is not only about institutions and norms, but about hearts and minds – about how easily fear and anger can be weaponized, and how a democracy can be weakened from within when its people are set against each other. Undoing that damage will require reconstructing some sense of shared national identity and purpose – a project that must continue long after any single politician is gone.

Implications & Solutions:

• Democratic Implications: Extreme polarization is like acid eating away at the foundations of democracy. When large numbers of citizens view their political opponents as mortal enemies or non-members of the national community, the basic willingness to play by democratic rules (like accepting election outcomes or refraining from violence) erodes. The risk is a downward spiral: division begets dysfunction, which begets more anger and willingness to break norms. In such an environment, authoritarian solutions become more tempting to some – they promise to vanquish the hated other side once and for all. The openness to ideas like a “strong leader” without checks, found among a sizable minority of Americans, is a red flag that polarization has already induced some to trade democracy for the promise of victory. If not addressed, this could lead to democratic breakdown – either through electoral means (choosing an openly authoritarian leader) or through extra-legal conflict.

• Real-World Impact: The polarization and grievance politics of the Trump era have hurt Americans’ daily lives in concrete ways. Families and friendships have been torn apart by political animus; a 2020s survey showed over one in four Americans have ended a personal relationship over politics . Communities are experiencing increasing social segregation by political affiliation – neighbors put up opposing yard signs and stop speaking to each other. In workplaces and schools, political tensions have created new strains and sometimes even fear (teachers, for example, face hostility for how they discuss history or current events). On a more deadly level, hate crimes rose, and armed confrontations – from brawls at protests to threats against public health officials and school board members – have become more common, making public service genuinely dangerous in some cases. The “politics of fear” also have public health consequences: politicization of something as basic as vaccines or masks contributed to higher death tolls during COVID in communities where partisan fear-mongering led people to shun lifesaving measures. And internationally, U.S. polarization makes the country appear weak and divided, potentially inviting adversaries to take advantage (for instance, a divided America might struggle to present a united front against foreign threats, affecting national security which ultimately touches all citizens). In short, polarization isn’t just stressful – it can be lethal and debilitating to a society.

• Path to Solutions: Healing a polarized society is an immense task, but not an impossible one. A multi-pronged approach is needed: political leadership, grassroots dialogue, and addressing root causes. First, political leaders and influencers must dial down the zero-sum rhetoric. It may sound naïve in a heated climate, but history shows moments (such as after Watergate, or in post-conflict reconciliations abroad) where leaders deliberately emphasized common ground and national unity to bring people back from the brink. Elected officials of good conscience in both parties should make a point of speaking to all Americans and rejecting demonization – for example, Republican leaders could explicitly reject white supremacists and acknowledge that Democrats are loyal Americans, and Democratic leaders could acknowledge the legitimate economic frustrations of many Trump supporters without caricaturing them. These gestures can set a tone that trickles down. Second, institutions and civil society can create forums for dialogue. Initiatives that bring together ordinary citizens of differing views – in structured town halls, deliberative dialogues, or even online encounters moderated for civility – can humanize the “other side.” There are successful examples (such as “Braver Angels” workshops that pair red and blue Americans to listen to each other) that show when people actually talk one-on-one, they often find empathy even if they don’t agree. Expanding these programs and making them highly visible could chip away at the dehumanization that has set in. Third, the country must address the underlying grievances that fuel polarization. Many Trump supporters were motivated by genuine pain: deindustrialization, job loss, the opioid crisis, feeling ignored by elites. On the other side, many who oppose Trump are motivated by their own grievances: racial injustice, skyrocketing inequality, fear for the planet’s future. Policy matters – a government that works to tangibly improve lives (create jobs, invest in communities, reform criminal justice, tackle corruption) can reduce the anger that demagogues exploit. For example, if rural Americans see better infrastructure and opportunities due to bipartisan legislation, the narrative of “elites don’t care about you” loses some potency. If communities of color see progress on equity and policing, the temptation toward despair or radical solutions eases. Economic and social reforms won’t eliminate disagreement, but they can lower the stakes and temperature of conflicts. Education is also key: civic education that fosters critical thinking, empathy, and understanding of America’s pluralism can prepare the next generation to engage in politics without hatred. Finally, personal responsibility plays a role. Individuals can choose to seek out news that challenges their views, or strike up a respectful conversation with a colleague of a different party, or refrain from that angry Facebook post that demonizes half the country. Millions of small acts of grace can cumulatively help rebuild civic friendship. It’s often said that Americans unite most in times of external crisis – but we shouldn’t wait for a war or disaster to rediscover unity. Deliberate efforts to weave a new narrative of shared American identity (for instance, emphasizing civic rituals, national service, or common values like freedom and fairness) can give people a sense that, despite our differences, we’re all in this project together. None of this will be easy or quick – it might take a generation. But the alternative is unacceptable: a democracy cannot endure as a permanent cold civil war. Bridging the divides is literally a matter of national survival, and it must begin with seeing each other not as enemies, but as fellow Americans.

America Alone: The Retreat from Democratic Leadership on the Global Stage

For much of the post-World War II era, the United States – despite its flaws and inconsistencies – styled itself as the leader of the “Free World.” It championed democracy and human rights internationally, helped build institutions like the United Nations, NATO, and others, and often exerted pressure (sometimes hypocritically, but often meaningfully) on authoritarian regimes. All of that shifted dramatically under President Trump. Guided by an “America First” ethos, Trump repudiated many of the values and alliances that had defined U.S. foreign policy. He showed little interest in promoting democracy abroad; if anything, he expressed open disdain for it, seemingly preferring the company of autocrats. He undermined long-standing alliances with democratic nations and often treated traditional friends more harshly than adversarial strongmen.

This abdication of American global leadership had profound implications. It left a vacuum on the world stage that authoritarian powers like China and Russia eagerly moved to fill. It demoralized pro-democracy forces around the world who had long looked to the U.S. for moral or material support. In short, Trump’s foreign policy represented a break in the idea of a united front of democracies – and the world’s autocrats took note.

One of the clearest manifestations of this retreat was Trump’s treatment of allies and alliances. NATO – the military pact binding North American and European democracies – was described by Trump as “obsolete” even before he took office. Throughout his term, he berated NATO member countries (especially Germany) for not spending enough on defense, doing so in abrasively insulting terms that at times cast doubt on the U.S.’s commitment to NATO’s mutual defense clause. Reports emerged that Trump repeatedly talked about withdrawing the U.S. from NATO altogether – an act that would have been a geopolitical earthquake, one that only the Kremlin would cheer. Although an outright withdrawal didn’t happen, Trump’s ambivalence toward the alliance deeply shook European confidence.

Long-standing allies like the UK, France, and Germany found themselves at odds with Washington on basic values and unsure if the U.S. would still defend them in a crisis. German Chancellor Angela Merkel, after particularly contentious meetings with Trump, remarked in 2017 that Europe might no longer be able to rely on the United States and “must take our fate into our own hands.” Such words from a close ally underscored the estrangement. Trump also unilaterally pulled out of international agreements that had broad support from democratic partners – most notably the Paris Climate Accord aimed at combating global warming, and the Iran Nuclear Deal which was a multilateral effort to prevent nuclear proliferation. He did so over the loud objections of American allies, dealing blows to multilateral diplomacy and leaving allies scrambling to keep those initiatives alive.

In trade and economics, he slapped tariffs even on allied nations (like Canada and those in the EU) under the dubious guise of “national security” threats, souring relations. At one point he even called Canada’s prime minister “dishonest and weak” following a G7 summit. The overall message allies received was that under Trump, the U.S. cared only about zero-sum advantages and saw alliances as burdens or scams. The cooperative, values-based international order that U.S. leadership had helped build after 1945 was severely frayed during those years.

While spurning democratic friends, Trump went out of his way to court autocratic and illiberal leaders. He often spoke more kindly of adversarial strongmen than of America’s democratic partners. This was a jarring shift: previous U.S. presidents, whether Republican or Democrat, at least paid lip service to supporting dissidents and condemning human rights abuses abroad. Trump, by contrast, openly admired authoritarian figures. He repeatedly praised Russian President Vladimir Putin, expressing respect for Putin’s “strong control” over Russia and dismissing U.S. intelligence findings about Russian election interference.

In a surreal summit in Helsinki in 2018, Trump even appeared to side with Putin’s denials over the unanimous conclusions of his own intelligence agencies – a moment many saw as a diplomatic low point for the U.S. He lavished praise on North Korea’s Kim Jong-un, calling him “very talented” and boasting about the “love letters” Kim wrote him – a staggering normalization of one of the world’s most brutal dictators.

Trump welcomed Hungary’s Viktor Orbán to the White House in 2019 (after years in which Orbán had been snubbed by previous administrations for dismantling democracy in Hungary) and complimented him on doing a “tremendous job.” He mused affectionately about other strongmen as well – reportedly joking “He’s my favorite dictator” about Egypt’s President Abdel Fattah el-Sisi. He congratulated Turkey’s President Erdoğan for winning a referendum that expanded Erdoğan’s powers through dubious means. In the Philippines, despite President Duterte’s notorious record of thousands of extrajudicial killings in a so-called drug war, Trump had a friendly meeting and said they had a “great relationship.”

When China’s President Xi Jinping abolished term limits, enabling himself to rule indefinitely, Trump’s reaction was to call it “great” and quip that maybe the U.S. should try that system. These instances, far from one-offs, formed a clear pattern: Trump aligned the U.S. more with the world’s strongmen and disheartened those fighting for democracy and human rights.

This reversal did not go unnoticed. Democracy advocates worldwide expressed alarm that the American president seemed to prefer autocrats. Larry Diamond, a Stanford scholar of democracy, observed that Trump displayed a “strong personal affinity for autocrats” like Orbán, Duterte, Xi, and Kim, while scorning leaders of democratic allies such as the prime minister of Canada or the chancellor of Germany. A senior German official remarked in 2019 that under Trump, the U.S. had “put a torch” to the post-war order of democratic alliances. Meanwhile, oppressive regimes took Trump’s stance as a green light. China intensified its crackdown on Hong Kong’s pro-democracy movement in 2019–2020, calculating (correctly) that the U.S. response would be tepid at best. Russia expanded its interference in conflicts (like in Syria and Libya) and stepped up repression at home, facing little pushback from the U.S. In Saudi Arabia and Egypt, leaders knew they could jail dissidents or even assassinate critics (as with Jamal Khashoggi) without seriously jeopardizing relations with Washington. The moral authority of the United States – already tarnished by some past hypocrisies – hit a new low when Trump largely abandoned the traditional language of democratic values in foreign policy.

The consequences of this American retreat from democratic leadership were quantifiable. Freedom House’s 2018 report highlighted “the accelerating withdrawal of the United States from its historical commitment to promoting and supporting democracy” as one of the most striking global developments. That report noted that authoritarian powers were actively undermining democracy worldwide, and the U.S.’s abdication made the world “all the more dangerous” as a result. By 2020, Freedom House recorded the 14th consecutive year of decline in global freedom, and it emphasized that the absence of U.S. advocacy was making it easier for autocrats to act with impunity. Similarly, a nonpartisan U.S. congressional study of Trump’s foreign policy noted that democracy and human rights had taken a backseat, and that 2019 marked a 14-year low in global democratic health. In short, the Trump years coincided with – and likely contributed to – a dark period for democracy worldwide.

One poignant example came at the United Nations. In past administrations, U.S. presidents often used their U.N. speeches to call out human rights abuses or rally support for democracy. Trump, instead, used the U.N. podium to tout nationalism. In a 2019 address, he explicitly declared, “The future does not belong to globalists. The future belongs to patriots.” It was essentially a message that every country should look out for itself and that international norms or values were secondary to sovereignty. Autocrats couldn’t have agreed more – they prefer a world where each regime can do as it pleases within its borders, free from criticism or external pressure.

To dissidents abroad, Trump’s “America First” sounded like “America Abandoned.” The moral and sometimes material support that democracy movements expected from the U.S. evaporated. For example, when Belarus’s dictator Alexander Lukashenko blatantly rigged an election and violently crushed protests in 2020, the U.S. response under Trump was muted and devoid of leadership – a scenario hard to imagine in earlier times when America might have led a Western outcry (though by late 2020, the Trump administration was itself consumed by election chaos at home).

Trump’s posture also emboldened illiberal trends within established democracies. Far-right populist parties in Europe, which had long resented pressure from the U.S. and EU on liberal norms, felt vindicated. In countries like Poland and Hungary, state-aligned media openly parroted Trump’s talking points about fake news and a conspiratorial “deep state” undermining the will of the people. The nexus of nationalist leaders and movements across the West – from Nigel Farage and certain Brexit proponents in Britain, to Marine Le Pen in France, to Jair Bolsonaro in Brazil – found in Trump a powerful ally who gave their cause visibility and a veneer of legitimacy.

When Trump trashed the European Union and praised Britain’s Brexit vote, it was music to the ears of European populists who wanted to dismantle multilateral institutions. Trump’s former strategist Steve Bannon even traveled Europe meeting nationalist leaders and boasting of forming a global alliance of populist “patriots.” The symbolic power of the U.S. presidency throwing its weight behind nationalism and away from liberal democracy was enormous. It told the world that the American Experiment was perhaps turning inward and that the ideals of liberal democracy were no longer championed by its most influential exemplar.

Nowhere was this more dramatically illustrated than on January 6, 2021. The insurrection at the U.S. Capitol – live-streamed globally – showed American democracy in crisis. U.S. adversaries like China leapt to capitalize on the imagery, with state media in Beijing declaring that the U.S. had no right to lecture anyone about democracy ever again. For allies struggling against authoritarian neighbors, the scene was heartbreaking and terrifying. As one German official said, “We used to look to America as an example. Today, people in the Baltics or Ukraine or Taiwan are asking: if democracy is under siege in Washington, who’s going to help us?” In other words, Trump’s tenure left behind a far more fragmented and uncertain world. Democracies were weaker and more divided; authoritarian regimes were stronger and bolder; and the loss of U.S. leadership created a vacuum in the global struggle for liberal values.

However, it must be noted that in some paradoxical ways, Trump’s presidency also forced democratic allies to step up in new ways. Europe, feeling the U.S. pulling back, began to talk about “strategic autonomy” and in some cases increased defense spending (partly due to Trump’s pressure, though also due to threats like Russia’s aggression). Coalitions of democracies minus the U.S. formed to address issues like climate change – for instance, the “High Ambition Coalition” in climate negotiations persisted despite the U.S. federal government’s pullout, with states and cities in the U.S. joining international partners to uphold the Paris goals.

Perhaps ironically, Trump’s retreat spurred a counter-reaction among other democracies determined not to let the ideals die: countries like France, Germany, Japan, and Canada sought to keep the torch lit in forums like the Alliance for Multilateralism. When President Biden took office in 2021, he immediately declared “America is back” and rejoined global agreements, but by then the world had changed – trust in the U.S. was badly shaken, and autocrats were more entrenched after four years of breathing room. Rebuilding credibility and alliances has been, and remains, an enormous task.

In summation, Trump’s impact on the international stage marked a sharp departure from a roughly seven-decade bipartisan consensus (in rhetoric if not always in practice) that the U.S. should support democracy and human rights globally. By aligning more with authoritarian powers and denigrating democratic allies, he accelerated a worldwide democratic recession. As Freedom House put it succinctly, the most striking development of 2017 was the U.S. “withdrawal from its traditional role as both a champion and an exemplar of democracy.”

Without that leadership, the balance in the global tug-of-war between democracy and autocracy tilted further toward the latter. The full consequences of that shift continue to play out, but already the years of Trump’s presidency are seen as a time when the beacon of American democracy dimmed on the world stage – and in that darkness, authoritarians found new opportunities to advance their agendas.

Implications & Solutions:

• Democratic Implications: The United States stepping back from its pro-democracy role made the entire global democratic ecosystem more precarious. American support (diplomatic, economic, or even just inspirational) has historically been crucial in many countries’ fights against dictatorship – from Eastern European nations during the Cold War to activists in Burma or Ukraine more recently. With the U.S. absent or signaling indifference, authoritarian regimes felt fewer constraints. The erosion of a united democratic front allowed autocrats to act more aggressively, knowing the “leader of the free world” might not object. Furthermore, the U.S. itself loses out when democracy declines globally: more authoritarianism in the world tends to mean more wars, refugee crises, and instability that ultimately cross borders and affect Americans (for instance, conflict and repression can fuel terrorism or economic disruption). If the U.S. continues on an isolationist or authoritarian-friendly path in the future, we could see the post-1945 international order fully unravel, replaced by a might-makes-right sphere of influence system dominated by powers like China and Russia – a far less free and less safe world.

• Real-World Impact: Trump’s foreign policy had real effects on Americans’ everyday security and economic well-being, even if those might be less visible than domestic changes. Undermining alliances worried U.S. soldiers and defense planners – if NATO’s credibility falters, it could embolden aggressors, possibly even triggering conflicts that could draw in American troops or threaten global trade (which impacts jobs and prices at home). The trade wars and tariffs meant as punishment to allies actually hurt American industries (e.g. farmers hit by retaliatory tariffs) and consumers (facing higher costs). Allies’ diminished trust meant less cooperation on intelligence and global policing – potentially making it harder to, say, stop a terrorist plot or extradite a criminal, which has direct safety implications. On a values level, many Americans take pride in their country’s role as a champion of freedom; Trump’s approach demoralized those citizens and immigrants who saw the U.S. as a beacon, affecting national morale and identity. Also, by cozying up to dictators, Trump sent a message to aspiring democratic leaders abroad that America might not have their back – which could indirectly impact Americans who care about global human rights (for example, diaspora communities in the U.S. who worry about relatives back home under oppressive regimes). Finally, on issues like climate change and pandemics, stepping away from international cooperation has tangible effects: without American leadership, progress slowed, and that means more climate-related disasters and health crises that hit Americans at home (as we saw with COVID).

• Path to Solutions: The clear antidote to “America Alone” is for the United States to re-engage as a principled leader on the world stage – but doing so with humility and consistency to rebuild trust. Practically, this means reaffirming commitments to key alliances and international institutions. U.S. leaders should make unequivocally clear that NATO’s Article 5 mutual defense pledge is ironclad, and they should invest in those alliances (through joint military exercises, sharing advanced defensive technology, etc.) to show resolve. Trade disputes with allies should be resolved through negotiation and good-faith compromise, focusing on common interest in countering unfair practices by true adversaries (like China’s state subsidies) rather than fighting each other. The U.S. should also return to championing human rights and democracy in its foreign policy rhetoric and actions – for example, speaking out when allies like Saudi Arabia or Egypt commit abuses, not giving them a pass. While there are always geopolitical trade-offs, a balance can be struck where U.S. security interests are pursued without completely abandoning our values. Rejoining and strengthening multilateral agreements (Paris Accord, World Health Organization, etc.) is vital to tackling global problems that directly impact Americans. The “Summit for Democracy” initiative launched in 2021 is a start: the U.S. convened countries to strategize on defending democracy and fighting corruption. This kind of leadership – convening and coordinating – should continue regularly, and not just as a talking shop but with tangible commitments (e.g. a fund to support independent media in authoritarian countries, a pledge among democracies to jointly sanction egregious human rights violators). At the same time, America must get its own house in order to be a credible exemplar: that means addressing democratic weaknesses at home (as discussed throughout this essay) so that the U.S. can once again stand as a model, not a cautionary tale. If the U.S. can demonstrate a thriving, multiracial democracy that delivers for its people, it will have far more moral authority to lead abroad. Finally, American diplomacy should rebuild relationships person-to-person: sending Peace Corps volunteers, funding educational exchanges, and supporting grassroots pro-democracy NGOs worldwide as was done in the past. These small investments pay huge dividends in goodwill and influence. The world is safer and more prosperous when democracy is on the advance – and American engagement is often the catalyst. “America First” need not mean America alone; the U.S. can protect its interests by uplifting allies and the democratic norms that create a stable international environment. In short, the U.S. should return to the idea that leading the free world is part of its enlightened self-interest – and act accordingly, with concrete policies that back up that leadership.

The Autocratic Tide: Global Authoritarianism and the Trump Effect

The challenges Trump posed to democracy at home were part of a larger global story. In recent years, the world has been experiencing what scholars call a “democratic recession” or a wave of autocratization – a period in which many countries are moving away from liberal democracy toward more authoritarian rule. Trump’s rise was as much a symptom of this worldwide trend as it was a contributor to it. The interplay between the U.S. and global democracy is critical: when the world’s most powerful democracy falters, it reinforces the momentum of the autocratic wave. Conversely, Trump’s particular brand of politics drew inspiration from foreign autocrats and in turn inspired others. In this section, we zoom out to examine how Trump’s presidency fit into global patterns of democratic backsliding, and how his actions echoed or influenced those of other leaders eroding democracy around the world.

Even before Trump took office, metrics showed trouble for democracy globally. The 2010s saw democratic decline in numerous countries – Turkey’s slide into one-man rule under Erdoğan, Hungary’s transformation into a semi-authoritarian state under Orbán, populist governments in Poland and the Philippines undermining checks and balances, and so on. Freedom House noted that by 2019, the world had seen 14 consecutive years of decline in freedom, the longest such slump in decades. Perhaps most strikingly, by the early 2020s, some analyses indicated that for the first time in modern history, there were more closed autocracies than liberal democracies in the world.

This sobering statistic (from the V-Dem Institute’s surveys) highlights how the balance had tipped: countries like China and Russia and numerous smaller authoritarian regimes now outnumbered the fully free democracies, and many hybrid or once-democratizing countries were trending in the wrong direction. Trump’s presidency coincided with this trend, and in some ways symbolized it – the idea that even a long-established democracy could backslide significantly.

Trump’s affinity for strongmen and his disregard for democratic norms provided a kind of validation for authoritarian methods on the world stage. Consider the rhetoric around elections: by casting unfounded doubt on the U.S. election (the foundational exercise of democracy), Trump inadvertently lent a boost to autocrats who routinely dismiss their own electoral losses or violent crackdowns as just and necessary.

After Trump’s defeat in 2020 and his refusal to concede, other leaders indeed followed that playbook. The most glaring example came in Brazil. In late 2022, Brazilian President Jair Bolsonaro – often dubbed the “Trump of the Tropics” – lost his re-election bid. Inspired by Trump’s narrative, Bolsonaro had sown doubts about Brazil’s voting machines for months prior, claiming without evidence that the system was rigged. When he lost, he pointedly refused to explicitly concede, and many of his supporters cried fraud.

On January 8, 2023 – just two years and two days after the U.S. Capitol riot – thousands of Bolsonaro supporters stormed Brazil’s Congress, Supreme Court, and presidential offices in Brasília, in scenes that unmistakably echoed the January 6 attack in Washington. The imagery of citizens ransacking their own democratic institutions, draped in national flags and driven by a “stolen election” myth, was nearly a mirror image of the U.S. experience. As NPR reported, the chaos in Brazil was “reminiscent” of January 6, and the inspiration drawn from Trump’s example was widely acknowledged.

Even former U.S. Vice President Mike Pence said he had “no doubt” Trump’s actions and rhetoric helped inspire the Brazil insurrection. Brazilian rioters literally adopted slogans and strategies from the U.S., claiming to be patriots saving the country from a fraudulent election – just as Trump’s did. Fortunately, Brazilian institutions responded swiftly (security forces cleared the buildings within hours and officials of all major parties condemned the rioters), and the rebellion was quashed in a day. But the very occurrence underscored a frightening new global export: the template for rejecting electoral outcomes and mobilizing violent pressure against democracy is now part of the world’s playbook.

In Europe, far-right populist movements also took heart from Trump’s successes and methods. In Germany, for example, the Alternative für Deutschland (AfD) party – known for extreme nationalism and anti-immigrant rhetoric – echoed Trump’s slogans with their own twists. They pushed a narrative of returning to a mythic past greatness, similar to Trump’s “Make America Great Again,” adjusted to a German context. Elements of the German far-right even embraced QAnon-style conspiracy theories that spread from the U.S. across the internet. In 2020, conspiracy-fueled protests against COVID-19 measures in Berlin saw participants waving Trump banners and QAnon symbols outside the Reichstag, claiming a global cabal was manipulating events – a direct ideological import from the American context.

In Italy and France, politicians on the hard right like Matteo Salvini and Marine Le Pen used language about the press and “globalist elites” strikingly similar to Trump’s, showing how his rhetoric reverberated internationally. It’s a two-way street: European populists influenced Trump (for instance, some of Trump’s early talking points on immigration and Islam were reportedly shaped by European right-wing thinkers), and then Trump as U.S. president gave their ideas a massive boost in legitimacy and visibility by echoing them from the White House.

Authoritarian leaders also used Trump’s America as a propaganda tool for their own agendas. Chinese state media, for instance, argued that American democracy was failing – pointing to the U.S. government’s chaotic COVID-19 response and the Capitol riot as evidence that one-party rule (like China’s) was superior to messy democracy. Russia’s Vladimir Putin, who had long sought to undermine the appeal of Western democracy through disinformation, found an unlikely ally in Trump’s chaos: Russian state TV gleefully replayed Trump’s claims of election fraud in America to justify why Russian elections shouldn’t be criticized. When opposition activists in Russia or Belarus pushed for fair elections, their regimes retorted, “Look at the U.S. – they can’t even run a fair election by their own admission.” This false equivalence was persuasive to some and hurt the morale of pro-democracy forces: if the “shining city on a hill” was tarnished, what hope did smaller nations have? Autocrats essentially said to their citizens: Even America’s democracy is a sham, so don’t bother yearning for it here.

Another global impact was on norms of discourse and values in politics. Trump’s success in bulldozing truth and flouting civility emboldened like-minded politicians everywhere. In the Philippines, Duterte’s crass and violent language against his enemies found a parallel in Trump’s pugilistic style (though Duterte came first, he got validation from seeing an American president use similar tactics). In India, Prime Minister Narendra Modi’s Hindu-nationalist BJP saw an increase in disinformation and polarizing propaganda in political discourse during the Trump era, and Indian social media became rife with Trumpian tropes (adapted to local context).

Some Indian politicians adopted “fake news” rhetoric to dismiss unfavorable facts, directly parroting Trump. In far-right circles in places like Poland, Hungary, and Brazil, Trump’s attacks on institutions (courts, media, electoral systems) were cited gleefully to normalize their own attacks. The cross-pollination of illiberal ideas is facilitated by global social media – a conspiracy theory or demagogic tactic born in one country can quickly jump borders. During his time in office, Trump was a nodal point in this network, both receiving and transmitting illiberal memes and strategies.

Yet, it’s important to acknowledge that the global democratic decline cannot be pinned on Trump alone. Many deeper currents have been at work: the rise of China as an authoritarian superpower offering an alternative model of governance; the failures or corruption of some democratic governments eroding their own people’s faith; economic inequalities and rapid social changes causing backlashes that populists (like Trump) exploit; and the transformative (often destabilizing) effect of the internet and social media on how information and propaganda spread.

Trump rode these waves skillfully but he did not create them. What he did do was accelerate and amplify certain tendencies. Under his watch, the notion that democracy is the universally superior system took a hit – not just because of what he said, but because the American example was faltering. As one Canadian security assessment warned in late 2020, if democratic backsliding continues in the U.S., even Canada might have to rethink its historically close relations, since instability in the U.S. would ripple through the whole region. In other words, an unstable or autocratic-leaning America would be a global security threat in itself, demonstrating how interconnected the fate of democracy in major countries is with broader international stability.

It’s somewhat paradoxical that while Trump’s presidency galvanized authoritarians, it also sparked resistance and a renewed awareness of the value of democracy in many places. In 2019 and 2020, even as Trump undermined norms, we saw massive pro-democracy protests around the world – from Hong Kong to Belarus to Sudan to Thailand. Those movements weren’t because of Trump, but they underscored that the desire for democracy still burned in many hearts, and in some cases the contrast with Trump’s America may have been a motivating lesson (“we don’t want to end up like that”).

Even in the U.S., the 2020 election saw the highest voter turnout in over a century – suggesting that many Americans were awakened to the stakes and determined to have their say, a form of democratic resilience. And Trump’s blatant attacks on democratic norms may have inspired a kind of counter-mobilization: for example, a wide array of Americans across the political spectrum (from activists to judges to election officials) worked to ensure the 2020 election was conducted fairly and its results respected, precisely because they knew those norms were under threat.

One might argue that Trump inadvertently taught a master class in what happens when you take democracy for granted – and thus, he provoked a learning moment. His defeat in 2020, delivered through the ballot box and upheld by the courts despite all his efforts to overturn it, was itself a statement that even a backsliding democracy has the capacity for self-correction.

Nonetheless, the broader autocratic tide has not yet turned as of this writing. Here in mid-2025, democracy advocates still warn of continuing dangers. Many authoritarian-style behaviors have been learned and copied by politicians around the globe: discrediting any election you lose, demonizing minorities to rally your base, flooding social media with lies to confuse the public – these are now common in many democracies. Hyper-partisanship and disinformation remain rampant in numerous societies, eroding the shared basis for democratic debate.

In some countries, opportunistic leaders are imitating aspects of Trump’s playbook to weaken checks and balances. For instance, in El Salvador, President Nayib Bukele (often likened to Trump for his prolific Twitter use and brash populism) has concentrated power, attacked critical media as fake news, and even joked about being “the world’s coolest dictator” as he cracks down on opposition. The legacy of Trump on global autocratization is thus both symbolic and practical. Symbolically, it shattered the myth of American exceptionalism in democracy – proving that even the United States is not immune to the siren song of authoritarianism. Practically, it provided an example – both a positive example for aspiring authoritarians of how far one can go, and a cautionary example for democrats of how a modern, media-savvy leader can undermine a democracy from within without needing a traditional military coup.

For those fighting for democracy worldwide, Trump’s rise and fall offers several lessons. One lesson is the importance of institutional resilience: independent courts, legislatures, and election administrators matter immensely, and when they hold firm, they can withstand even a powerful figure’s onslaught. The U.S. in 2020 had enough institutional strength (and honorable people in key roles) to fend off Trump’s attempt to subvert the vote – a heartening example to embattled democrats elsewhere that checks and balances can work if people uphold them. Another lesson is the necessity of countering misinformation quickly and consistently. Lies told at scale – whether about election results or any other issue – can have world-altering consequences. Democracies need strategies to combat disinformation, such as stronger content moderation, public awareness campaigns, and rapid response teams that debunk falsehoods before they harden into “reality” for millions. The global community of democracies, shaken by the experiences of recent years, has started to coordinate responses. President Biden convened a “Summit for Democracy” in 2021 and 2023 with leaders and civil society from many countries to address shared challenges like safeguarding election integrity, defending a free press, and countering authoritarian influence operations. Initiatives stemming from these summits (such as task forces on cyber threats to elections, or funds to support independent media in autocracies) are a start at democracies learning from one another and standing united.

In the grand sweep of history, the Trump era might be remembered as a peak (or trough) of the democratic recession – a warning flare that democratic institutions and norms, no matter how longstanding, can erode rapidly even in bastions of freedom. It also underscored that the struggle between democracy and authoritarianism is transnational. Autocrats learn from each other and sometimes actively support each other, forming a kind of authoritarian International. Likewise, democracies must learn from and support each other. When Hungarian activists cut through the barbed wire on their border in 1989, it helped bring down the Iron Curtain for others. When Americans defended their Capitol and certified an election in 2021, and later held accountable many of the perpetrators, it sent a message to the world that the rule of law still held – that a democracy could be pushed to the brink but pull back. The interplay continues: Trump’s personal chapter in power ended in 2021, but movements aligned with his ideology persist in the U.S. and abroad. The story of global democracy vs. autocracy is ongoing, and it will be shaped by whether lessons from the Trump years are heeded or ignored.

Implications & Solutions:

• Democratic Implications: The “autocratic tide” around the world means that democracy is in a perilous state internationally. If current trends continue, we could see a world where authoritarian regimes dominate, and norms like free elections, independent courts, and press freedom become the exception rather than the rule. That would usher in a more unstable and unjust international order – more wars of aggression (because dictators are unchecked), more human rights atrocities within countries (because no one’s watching), and a breakdown of the cooperative frameworks needed to tackle global issues. Trump’s tenure showed that even strong democracies are not safe from this tide – it’s a wake-up call that democracy has to be nurtured and defended actively, not assumed as the default. The U.S. swinging toward isolationism or autocracy has ripple effects that embolden all the worst actors worldwide. Conversely, if the U.S. and other democracies reinvigorate themselves, it could inspire a reverse wave of democratization. We are at a crossroads globally: either democracies band together and push back, or they continue to falter one by one, giving authoritarianism a dangerous upper hand.

• Real-World Impact: For the average person, the global struggle between democracy and autocracy might seem distant, but it has tangible effects on everyday life. A world with more autocracies can mean more global pandemics (because secretive regimes hide outbreaks), more economic volatility (because corruption and conflict disrupt supply chains – think of how Russia’s war on Ukraine caused gas and food price spikes everywhere), and moral dilemmas (like tech from authoritarian countries enabling surveillance even in democracies). Conversely, a world where democracy is advancing tends to be safer and more prosperous: trade is more stable, conflicts fewer, and basic rights more respected which fosters innovation and well-being. So Americans and people everywhere have a stake in whether freedom and law or repression and might dictate world affairs. The autocratic surge already has domestic echoes: extremist movements in one country inspire those in another (e.g. U.S. white supremacists building links with European ultra-nationalists online). Thus, fighting authoritarianism abroad and at home are increasingly part of the same effort.

• Path to Solutions: To counter the autocratic tide, international solidarity among democracies is key. This means democracies should coordinate more tightly on defending shared values. Practical steps could include forming an alliance (some call it an “Alliance of Democracies”) where countries commit to joint action against coups or election subversions – for instance, agreeing to collectively sanction any regime that overthrows a democracy or refuses to leave office after losing an election. Economic tools are powerful: a coalition of democracies controlling key markets can impose heavy costs on would-be dictators (similar to how sanctions on Russia were stronger because many democracies acted together). Another strategy is supporting pro-democracy forces within authoritarian or backsliding countries. This can be done by funding NGOs that promote human rights, providing safe harbor to journalists or dissidents in exile, and leveraging technology to beam uncensored information into closed societies (21st-century equivalent of Cold War radio Free Europe). It’s crucial, however, that such support is smart and not easily portrayed as imperial meddling; often it’s best done in partnership with regional democratic organizations or through quiet channels. Democracies also need to get a handle on the technology front: a lot of authoritarian coordination now happens through digital surveillance and propaganda. Democratic nations could set up a consortium to develop counter-surveillance tools for activists and to expose and counter state-sponsored disinformation campaigns (for example, the EU’s East StratCom task force that flags Russian disinformation could be expanded and linked with U.S. efforts). Education and cultural exchange also play a role in the long game: expanding exchange programs (like Fulbright scholarships, youth leadership summits, etc.) can imbue future world leaders with democratic ideals and personal networks across borders. Domestically, every democracy (especially the U.S.) must renew itself – that means fighting corruption, reducing extreme inequality, and making sure democracy delivers results for citizens, so that authoritarian populists have less fertile ground. The Summit for Democracy process should continue regularly, not just as meetings but as a mechanism for commitments – countries could be asked to come back each time having implemented reforms (like anti-corruption measures or election security upgrades) at home, creating a bit of healthy peer pressure. Finally, staying united and principled is vital. Autocrats often try to divide democracies or use one against another (offering trade deals to one while isolating another). Democracies should strive to speak with one voice on core issues – for instance, a clear, unified condemnation (with action) whenever there’s a coup or a political prisoner in any country. All of this sounds ambitious – and it is, but historically democratic nations have risen to such challenges (think of the post-WWII period when institutions like the UN and NATO were created from scratch, or the global solidarity that helped end apartheid in South Africa). It will take political will and public awareness, but given what’s at stake – nothing less than the freedoms and futures of coming generations – it’s an effort that must be made. The world is watching whether the champions of democracy can regain momentum. American leadership, tempered by the lessons of its own near-miss with autocracy, can be a decisive factor in turning the tide.

Conclusion: A Stress Test for Democracy and the Road Ahead

The four years of Donald Trump’s presidency, and the tumultuous months that followed, constituted one of the greatest stress tests American democracy has ever experienced. The norms and institutions painstakingly built over generations were challenged in ways few anticipated just a decade ago. It is no exaggeration to say the United States came closer to sliding into authoritarianism than at any time in its modern history. The story we have traced – of truth under siege, guardrails eroding, institutions bending, press freedoms under attack, society fracturing, and the international democratic order faltering – paints a sobering picture of a democracy in peril. And yet, this story is not one of the inevitable triumph of autocracy. The ending remains unwritten, and there are chapters of resilience and renewal that provide hope alongside the caution.

What have we learned from this grand democratic stress test? First, we learned that democracy is not self-executing; it lives or dies by the choices of leaders and citizens every single day. The U.S. Constitution, often thought to be foolproof, proved to be only as effective as the willingness of people to uphold it. Faced with a president who showed disdain for constitutional limits, it ultimately fell to individuals – judges, state election officials, local administrators, and sometimes members of Trump’s own party – to enforce those limits. Some rose to the occasion heroically: judges ruled according to the law, election officials counted and certified votes honestly despite pressure, members of Congress reconvened on January 6 to finish their duty even while glass and tear gas residue still lingered in the Capitol. Others failed or faltered: many legislators indulged or propagated the lies, and some officials enabled Trump’s excesses. The clear lesson is that the human element in democracy is paramount. Institutions matter, but institutions are made up of people – and the integrity and courage (or lack thereof) of those people can decide the fate of a nation. Going forward, we must ensure that those who operate our democratic machinery are committed to its principles, and we must celebrate and protect those who stand up for the rule of law under duress.

Second, we have seen that narrative and emotion can overwhelm facts and law if left unchecked. Trump’s grim success in convincing millions of Americans of a blatantly false stolen-election narrative underscores the power of storytelling – for ill or good. Going forward, defenders of democracy must reckon with the reality that simply having the facts on one’s side is not enough. They must also win the battle of the narrative and speak to the hearts of citizens. As storytelling expert Lisa Cron would remind us, humans are wired for story; the side that tells a more emotionally compelling story often wins public belief. Trump told a story of grievance, betrayal, and promised restoration (“Make America Great Again”) that resonated emotionally with many, even though it was built on falsehoods. Pro-democracy forces will need to craft their own compelling narrative – one that emphasizes unity, truth, and the tangible benefits of democracy for people’s everyday lives. They must engage with people’s fears and hopes, not dismiss them. This means addressing the legitimate concerns that demagogues exploit (such as economic dislocation, opioid addiction, cultural change) so those don’t become fertile ground for conspiracies and scapegoating. In short, democracy advocates have to fight misinformation not just with debunking, but with better storytelling: reminding Americans (and people everywhere) that our shared values and freedoms are worth the effort, that our nation’s diversity is a strength, and that we can solve problems without turning on each other or on democracy itself.

Third, the importance of accountability has been starkly highlighted. One reason norms eroded so fast is that initially there were few consequences for breaking them. When Trump and his allies violated ethical standards or told outrageous lies, many avoided immediate accountability – some because the system was slow or hesitant to act, others because polarized politics provided cover. Over time, however, accountability began catching up. Trump became the first president to be impeached twice (even though he was not convicted by the Senate, the impeachments themselves were historic rebukes, and in the second trial a majority of Senators – including some Republicans – voted that he had incited insurrection). As of mid-2025, the justice system is pursuing multiple investigations and indictments related to Trump’s efforts to overturn the election and other potential crimes. It remains to be seen how those legal processes will end, but they represent the system attempting to hold even the highest official to the law. Such accountability is essential to deter future would-be authoritarians. If breaking norms and laws results in punishment or political downfall, it sends a message to the next person eyeing autocratic tactics that it might not be worth the risk. Conversely, a lack of accountability would normalize the behavior and be an invitation to the next, possibly more competent, dictator-in-waiting. As one newspaper’s editorial board warned post-Trump, failing to enforce consequences would be “an invitation to the next dictator-in-waiting.” Thus, a crucial lesson is that democracy must defend itself by enforcing its rules. That includes legal accountability (investigations, trials, convictions where warranted), but also political accountability (voters and parties rejecting candidates who betrayed democratic principles, institutions imposing sanctions like censure or disbarment on those who abused power, etc.). The process of accountability can be divisive in the short term, but without it, the wounds fester. The goal is not retribution; it’s to re-establish boundaries of acceptable conduct so that the next leaders think twice before crossing them.

Fourth, this crisis underscored that democracy’s defense is a collective effort, not just top-down. One of the more inspiring aspects in an otherwise dark period was the mass mobilization of voters in 2020, even amid a pandemic. Americans turned out in record numbers, using mail ballots and early voting in unprecedented fashion, to make their voices heard. Civil society groups worked tirelessly to counter misinformation, protect voting rights, and get out the vote. When Trump and allies then tried to nullify votes, it was often ordinary citizens – peacefully protesting, volunteering as poll workers, or simply sharing correct information on social media – who played a part in upholding the process. After January 6, public opinion overall recoiled at the violence; many who might have initially entertained the fraud claims were repulsed by an armed attack on Congress. That broader public reaction helped isolate the radicals and gave political space for accountability (for example, numerous corporations cut off donations to lawmakers who objected to certifying the Electoral College, reflecting public disgust at those actions). All this is to say: the public at large has agency. Democracy really is “We the People,” and its survival depends on citizens caring enough to stand up when it’s threatened. In the U.S., despite all the division, enough people did stand up – whether by voting, by protesting, by blowing the whistle on abuse, or by simply doing their jobs honorably under pressure – to avert the complete breakdown of the system. It was messy and far too close for comfort, but it mattered. Going forward, civic engagement remains key: a democracy is healthiest when its citizens are informed, active, and willing to put country over party or person when it counts.

Finally, Trump’s presidency taught democracies worldwide a form of preventative medicine: the importance of shoring up democratic institutions and norms before a crisis hits. Many reforms are now on the table in the U.S. to safeguard against future abuses. For example, Congress in late 2022 passed an update to the Electoral Count Act of 1887 to make another Jan. 6 scenario much harder – clarifying that a vice president’s role in counting electoral votes is strictly ceremonial and raising the threshold for objecting to a state’s results. There are proposals to protect the independence of inspectors general and prosecutors so they can’t be fired for doing their job. Lawmakers are looking at enacting clearer limits on presidential emergency powers to prevent their abuse, and strengthening anti-corruption and financial disclosure requirements for presidents (so a future president can’t hide financial conflicts or profit secretly). Ideas like requiring presidential candidates to release tax returns, tightening the Hatch Act (which Trump aides flouted by using government roles in campaign modes), and ensuring social media companies take some responsibility to curb the spread of incendiary falsehoods, are all part of this conversation about “democratic fortification.” Similarly, other democracies around the world are reflecting on how to inoculate themselves. For instance, some parliamentary systems are examining how extremist parties might exploit rules to gain outsized power, and considering safeguards. The shared lesson is that once an autocrat is at the helm, it’s much harder to fix things – the key is to reinforce the dam before the flood, not after. Trump was a flood that exposed many cracks; now is the time to mend them. It’s encouraging that this repair work has begun, but it must be seen through, and not undermined by partisanship or complacency.

Looking ahead, the struggle between democratic governance and autocratic temptation continues – in America and beyond. Trump’s impact will linger in U.S. politics for years. His style and theories have spawned imitators at state and local levels. The distrust he injected into the electoral process is now a staple belief of one of America’s major parties – evidenced by many candidates in the 2022 midterms who ran on claims of election denial. (Notably, in many cases, the most extreme election deniers lost key races, especially for positions like secretaries of state who oversee elections, indicating that voters in swing states were reluctant to put avowed saboteurs in charge of the process. That’s a hopeful sign.) Whether Trump himself returns to the presidency or not, the movement he galvanized – often referred to as Trumpism – remains potent. It blends populist resentment, nationalist fervor, conspiracy-minded anti-institutionalism, and a personal loyalty to Trump. How the country navigates the influence of that movement will be crucial. There are signs of both backlash and entrenchment: on one hand, democratic norms like the acceptance of electoral results have been reasserted by many officials and courts; on the other, a significant portion of the electorate remains convinced of false narratives and is ready to support norm-defying leaders. This tension will likely define the coming political era.

Globally, the autocratic tide is at a crossroads too. The blatant aggression of dictators like Putin (for example, his 2022 invasion of Ukraine) has ironically reinvigorated NATO and unity among democracies in some respects. Public opinion in many places swung to appreciate the value of freedom when faced with the specter of naked tyranny – we saw countries like Finland and Sweden abandon long traditions of neutrality to seek NATO protection, and global attitudes harden against Putin’s brutality. Yet threats abound: new technologies like advanced surveillance and AI-driven propaganda give autocrats powerful tools to control people and manipulate truth. Ongoing economic stresses (inflation, inequality, post-pandemic disruptions) fuel radicalism and discontent that savvy authoritarians can exploit. And the simple resilience of the world’s current strongmen – from China’s Xi to North Korea’s Kim to smaller despots – means they will not relinquish power easily; they will adapt and fight to preserve their regimes. The flame of freedom will require tending and defense in the coming years. President Biden often frames our era as a global “battle between democracy and autocracy,” and he has called for a coalition of democracies to work together on everything from securing critical supply chains (so that dictators can’t blackmail free nations by withholding goods) to countering disinformation. This is a heartening direction, acknowledging how far things slipped that such concerted action is needed.

Reflecting on Donald Trump’s impact, it’s clear his presidency sounded an alarm – one that awakened many who perhaps took democracy for granted. That awakening comes with a renewed sense of civic urgency. Citizens, journalists, judges, lawmakers – all are now, one hopes, more alert to the warning signs of democratic decay: the demagogue who rejects the rules, the mob incited on false pretenses, the slow chipping away at checks and balances. The phrase “it can happen here,” once a caution mostly applied to distant lands or hypothetical novels, feels very real after the last few years. The United States was forced to confront its vulnerabilities. It largely survived the test, but not without deep wounds and a clarified understanding that eternal vigilance is indeed the price of liberty.

As we close this analysis, we do so with both a warning and a hope. The warning is that democracy, even in a long-stable country, can erode rapidly – the loss of a shared reality, the erosion of norms, and the rise of a would-be strongman can bring a republic to the brink. The hopeful counterpoint is that citizens and institutions, armed with knowledge and galvanized by a love of liberty, can pull it back. The chapters of the Trump era will be studied by future generations as a case study in how democracies can falter from within. But perhaps it will also be a case study in self-correction: a story of how enough Americans, and enough institutional guardians, remembered their oaths, their duties, and their ideals to steer the country away from the precipice at the last moment.

The continuous arc of this narrative teaches us that democracy is an ongoing project. The work of strengthening it – through reforms, education, dialogue, and the fostering of a political culture that values truth and inclusion – is never done. The Trump presidency, for all the damage it caused thus far and is likely yet to inflict, also peeled back our complacency and forced a reckoning with the fragility of the American experiment. In that sense, it offers a chance to rebuild on firmer foundations. The task now, for Americans and democrats everywhere, is to take those lessons to heart. We must build resilience to lies and authoritarian tactics, bridge societal divides through understanding and justice, and reaffirm our commitment to the rule of law and human dignity. In doing so, we honor the struggles of those who came before us in the long fight for liberty – and we improve the odds that government of the people, by the people, for the people, shall not perish from the earth, nor from within.

Trump 2025: The Second-Term Escalation

Donald Trump’s return to the White House on January 20, 2025 has unleashed a rapid and sweeping transformation of American governance, marked by a far more aggressive and autocratic approach than during his first term. In just a few months, Trump has moved to consolidate personal control over federal institutions, defy judicial limits, punish rivals, revive hardline nationalist policies, and even flirt with expansionist fantasies. Atlantic writer Anne Applebaum has described Trump’s second-term agenda as a kind of internal “regime change”, noting that Trump campaigned on “Liberation Day” rhetoric — pledging to eliminate the “vermin” and “radical left lunatics” he blamed for America’s ills. Indeed, once back in power Trump wasted no time carrying out what Applebaum calls “a new kind of government” in America. The escalation spans domestic and foreign policy, and its urgency has shaken U.S. democracy and the global order alike. Recent foreign trips and public statements reinforce this shift. As the CBC observed in its analysis of Trump’s international engagements, his “America First” doctrine no longer just reorders alliances—it displaces them. Rather than renewing multilateral commitments, Trump foregrounds transactional loyalty and strategic disruption, signaling that institutional relationships are expendable when they conflict with unilateral control.

Implications & Solutions:

• Democratic Implications:
  Trump’s intensified attacks on democratic institutions, such as the judiciary, independent agencies, and election systems, severely degrade democratic norms and guardrails. These institutions historically ensure power is accountable, but undermining them risks transforming American governance into a personalized system centered around loyalty to one individual. Such erosion could lead to autocratic governance patterns, severely weakening checks and balances that safeguard democracy.

• Real-World Impact:
  Citizens experience direct consequences when democratic institutions falter. Increased executive dominance can result in biased enforcement of laws, loss of voting rights protections, and compromised civil liberties. Government agencies manipulated by political motives rather than public interest means citizens lose confidence in fair treatment, deepening divisions and creating instability. Trust in the system declines, resulting in lower civic engagement and greater political polarization.

• Path to Solutions:
  Congress must enact clear statutory limits on executive power, safeguarding independent oversight bodies like inspectors general and election commissions. Bipartisan defense of institutions from political interference is essential—legislative reforms to strengthen protections for civil servants and judges are critical. Civic education emphasizing democratic principles, combined with transparent, accountable governance, can rebuild public trust. Grassroots organizations must continue to hold elected officials accountable, reinforcing democracy’s bottom-up strength through active citizen participation.

Consolidating Power via Project 2025 and Purges

From day one of his second term, Trump moved to concentrate executive power and purge institutions of non-loyalists, largely following the blueprint of Project 2025. This 900-page policy manifesto, devised by Heritage Foundation allies, outlined plans to dramatically reshape the executive branch in a more authoritarian direction. During the 2024 campaign Trump claimed to have “nothing to do with” Project 2025 , but in practice his early policies have closely aligned with its prescriptions . Many authors of the plan now hold key positions in his administration. For example, Trump appointed Russ Vought – who wrote Project 2025’s chapter on consolidating executive power – to lead the Office of Management and Budget, signaling an intent to withhold or redirect Congressionally-approved funds in line with Vought’s theory of executive supremacy  . Similarly, Peter Navarro, the architect of Project 2025’s trade chapter advocating steep tariffs, returned as a White House trade adviser to implement those very ideas . Even Trump’s new press secretary, Karoline Leavitt, was featured in Project 2025 training videos , underscoring the plan’s influence at every level.

A central plank of Project 2025 – and now Trump’s governance – is the purging of the civil service to remove officials deemed insufficiently loyal. In one of his first acts, Trump reinstated his controversial “Schedule F” executive order, creating a new category of federal employment that strips civil servants of job protections . This order effectively allows the administration to fire thousands of career staff at will, based on the claim that many federal employees had “undermined” their leaders and that “good administration” requires full loyalty to the President’s agenda  . The revised Schedule F mandates that even if staff are not political appointees, they “are required to faithfully implement administration policies” – and failure to do so is grounds for termination . Critics warn this change enables a wholesale purge of veteran officials and their replacement with Trump loyalists. By April, Trump went further, signing an order converting tens of thousands of federal jobs into political appointments removable at will . As one conservative ally gloated, liberals are “realizing that Project 2025 was the watered down version of this White House action plan” . In effect, Trump is systematically dismantling the nonpartisan civil service – a move Applebaum observes is “altering the nature and values of the American federal civil service” in favor of personal loyalty over neutral competence.

Parallel to personnel purges, Trump has targeted entire agencies and policies that he sees as obstacles. Project 2025 explicitly urged the elimination of the Department of Education, and Trump has begun that process. In March he signed an executive order directing the Education Secretary to “shut down” major parts of the department and slashed its staff by administrative fiat. (Dismantling a Cabinet department outright still requires an act of Congress, but Trump’s orders aim to hollow it out from within.) He also abruptly abolished the U.S. Agency for International Development (USAID), fulfilling the Project 2025 recommendation to scale back foreign aid programs. Another early executive order ended all federal “Diversity, Equity and Inclusion” (DEI) programs on Trump’s very first day back in office. Trump claimed such diversity initiatives violate civil rights and exclude other Americans, mirroring Project 2025’s call to dismantle the federal “DEI apparatus” entirely. In practice, the administration’s hasty efforts to scrub agency websites and documents of terms like “gender” or “diversity” led to embarrassing missteps and public outcry – some changes were so egregious they had to be reversed. Still, the intent was clear: to erase progressive policies and even vocabulary from government. Climate and environment programs have likewise been gutted. Trump re-withdrew the U.S. from the Paris Climate Agreement and “ended a host of climate programs,” aligning with Project 2025’s directive to eliminate climate initiatives.

All of these moves reflect an unmistakable escalation of executive control. Trump is fortifying the presidency at the expense of independent institutions, just as Project 2025 envisioned “consolidating power in the executive branch”. What he could not fully achieve in his first term due to internal resistance or legal checks, he is now pursuing with a vengeance. Even a new “Department of Government Efficiency (DOGE)” was created within the White House to centralize control over agencies. Applebaum dryly notes that if it were truly about efficiency, it wouldn’t be “firing random people” and “dissolving whole departments”. Instead, its true mission is purging and politicizing the bureaucracy. In Applebaum’s words, Trump and his allies are “carrying out [their] desire” for a wholly obedient government  – a desire long telegraphed by Trump’s own 2024 campaign promise to “eliminate” those he deems enemies of the people. The result is an executive branch being reshaped into an instrument of one man’s will, largely free from the usual checks of expertise, continuity, or dissenting opinion.

Implications & Solutions:

• Democratic Implications:
  Trump’s intensified attacks on democratic institutions, such as the judiciary, independent agencies, and election systems, severely degrade democratic norms and guardrails. These institutions historically ensure power is accountable, but undermining them risks transforming American governance into a personalized system centered around loyalty to one individual. Such erosion could lead to autocratic governance patterns, severely weakening checks and balances that safeguard democracy.

• Real-World Impact:
  Citizens experience direct consequences when democratic institutions falter. Increased executive dominance can result in biased enforcement of laws, loss of voting rights protections, and compromised civil liberties. Government agencies manipulated by political motives rather than public interest means citizens lose confidence in fair treatment, deepening divisions and creating instability. Trust in the system declines, resulting in lower civic engagement and greater political polarization.

• Path to Solutions:
  Congress must enact clear statutory limits on executive power, safeguarding independent oversight bodies like inspectors general and election commissions. Bipartisan defense of institutions from political interference is essential—legislative reforms to strengthen protections for civil servants and judges are critical. Civic education emphasizing democratic principles, combined with transparent, accountable governance, can rebuild public trust. Grassroots organizations must continue to hold elected officials accountable, reinforcing democracy’s bottom-up strength through active citizen participation.

Assault on the Judiciary and the Rule of Law

Trump’s power-consolidation has quickly brought him into direct conflict with the judicial branch. In these first months, his administration has shown an “unprecedented degree of resistance” to adverse court rulings  – openly defying judges in a manner that legal experts say undermines the rule of law and the constitutional balance of powers. The confrontation came to a head in late March, when a federal judge ordered the administration to halt a deportation flight in progress. Rather than comply, Trump’s deportation czar, Thomas Homan, flatly declared on Fox News, “I don’t care what the judges think,” as planes continued to carry asylum seekers out of the country. President Trump himself responded by demanding the judge – U.S. District Judge James Boasberg – be impeached, slandering him as a “radical left lunatic”.

For months now, the White House has signaled that it does not feel bound by court orders. “Judges aren’t allowed to control the executive’s legitimate power,” tweeted Vice President J.D. Vance in February, echoing an aggressive theory of nearly unchecked executive authority . Top Trump adviser Elon Musk has repeatedly called for impeaching judges who rule against the administration and is even funding campaigns to remove those judges . House Republicans quickly fell in line, introducing resolutions to impeach Judge Boasberg and four other federal judges who dared to block Trump’s policies . Such attacks on judicial independence are virtually unheard of in modern U.S. history. Chief Justice John Roberts issued a rare public rebuke, reminding all sides that “impeachment is not an appropriate response to disagreement with a judicial decision” and that the proper remedy is to appeal through the courts . Yet Trump and his allies appear determined to “test the fences” (as one legal scholar put it) of how far they can go in ignoring or neutralizing judges.

This standoff has produced a constitutional crisis, former Judge J. Michael Luttig warned – “The president of the United States has essentially declared war on the rule of law in America,” he said bluntly . Indeed, Trump seems emboldened by the notion that the courts ultimately “have little means to enforce their decisions” if the executive branch simply refuses to cooperate . One factor in his boldness, Luttig noted, was a controversial Supreme Court ruling last summer suggesting presidents have immunity from prosecution for official acts . Trump apparently took that as a green light to push boundaries further. During Trump’s first term, when courts struck down his agency actions, officials usually went “back to the drawing board” to rewrite policies in hopes of passing legal muster . Now, there is far less inclination to moderate – the administration’s stance is more often to barrel ahead until forced to stop, and even then to publicly discredit the judges involved.

Numerous Trump edicts have already been blocked by courts in these first 100+ days. Since January, “more than a dozen judges” have enjoined various executive actions, including Trump’s attempt to mass-fire federal workers, his order to freeze certain federal funds, and his unilateral move to end birthright citizenship by decree. In each case, courts found no legal authority for such steps. (For example, when Trump signed an order purporting to revoke the Constitution’s guarantee of citizenship to anyone born on U.S. soil, a judge swiftly stayed it, and legal scholars almost universally labeled it unconstitutional .) Trump’s renewed ban on transgender military service was similarly halted by multiple federal courts as a likely violation of equal-protection rights. Rather than accept these judgments, the administration has raced to appeal them – even petitioning the Supreme Court to intervene immediately so that it can enforce the transgender troop ban despite lower court injunctions.

In some instances, Trump officials have tried to outmaneuver the judiciary altogether. Notably, Trump issued an executive order targeting the law firm Susman Godfrey – which represents Dominion Voting Systems in defamation suits against Trump’s allies – effectively punishing the firm for taking anti-Trump cases. The order banned any federal agency from contracting with firms that “weaponize” the legal system against election integrity (thinly veiled code for firms suing Trump or his allies). A federal judge blocked this, lambasting it as “immensely oppressive,” noting “the order seeks to control who law firms are allowed to represent” – a “shocking abuse of power” that strikes at the heart of America’s judicial system.

Trump’s Justice Department is appealing that block as well. The sum of these battles is a dramatic erosion of judicial checks: Trump is signaling that court orders and independent lawyers are obstacles to be circumvented or crushed, rather than respected. Such open defiance of court authority by a U.S. president has “no parallel situation in American history,” warns Georgetown law professor Stephen Vladeck . It represents a frontal assault on one of the fundamental pillars of U.S. democracy – the idea that the executive branch must obey the law as interpreted by the courts.

Implications & Solutions:

• Democratic Implications:
  Trump’s unprecedented defiance of judicial rulings and relentless attacks on judges undermine the very foundation of American democracy—the separation of powers. By openly challenging judicial authority and advocating retribution against courts, Trump erodes the rule of law, setting a precedent that presidents can disregard legal constraints. If courts lose their authority, citizens have no recourse against governmental abuses, and democracy itself becomes vulnerable to autocratic rule.

• Real-World Impact:
  This assault on judicial independence directly impacts every citizen. When court orders are ignored or judges threatened, basic rights such as due process, free speech, equal protection under the law, and impartial justice are jeopardized. Individuals could find themselves defenseless against arbitrary governmental actions—from unlawful detentions to violations of property rights. The climate of fear among judges could also lead to self-censorship and biased rulings to avoid political retaliation, ultimately undermining public confidence in the fairness and legitimacy of the judicial system.

• Path to Solutions:
  Restoring judicial independence requires firm institutional and legislative action. Congress must reaffirm and legislatively protect judicial autonomy through robust oversight mechanisms and explicit prohibitions against executive interference. Judicial councils and associations should issue unified statements condemning intimidation attempts and advocating for constitutional norms. Civic groups and bar associations can educate citizens on the importance of judicial independence, strengthening public support for the courts. Transparency around judicial appointments and emphasizing merit-based selections will also help insulate courts from partisan manipulation. Finally, bipartisan alliances among lawmakers should publicly oppose judicial harassment, reinforcing the judiciary as a non-negotiable pillar of democratic governance.

Retaliatory Governance: Enemies Lists and Punitive Actions

Trump’s second term has also been characterized by an atmosphere of official retribution – a systematic effort to punish and intimidate political opponents, critics in the media, and even former officials deemed disloyal. On the campaign trail, Trump openly vowed to “lock up” his rival Joe Biden and other foes. Now in power, he has set about using the machinery of government to target dozens of individuals. An NPR investigation tallied over 100 people Trump has sought to sanction or prosecute in some way, from high-profile Democrats and ex-Republican officials to civil servants, journalists, and business figures.

The list of those singled out by name includes former House Republican Liz Cheney, who led Trump’s first impeachment; Dr. Anthony Fauci, vilified by the right for pandemic measures; Trump’s own one-time National Security Adviser John Bolton, now a vocal critic; and New York Attorney General Letitia James, who oversaw civil fraud cases against Trump’s business. All have found themselves in the crosshairs of federal power in 2025. “Through ICE arrests, criminal investigations, firings and executive orders, the president has launched a sweeping campaign of retribution,” NPR concluded – an agenda one federal judge condemned as “a shocking abuse of power”.

One of Trump’s very first acts in office was to direct the Justice Department to investigate the Biden administration itself. In two executive orders signed on Inauguration Day, he tasked the new Attorney General with conducting wide-ranging probes into alleged wrongdoing over the past four years – essentially ordering up politically-charged “reviews” of his personal grievances against the previous administration.

One order, grandly titled “Ending the Weaponization of the Federal Government,” mandated scrutiny of any actions by DOJ or FBI officials that Trump claims were biased or abusive (a clear nod to long-running conservative accusations about the Russia and Jan.6 investigations). Another order on “government censorship of speech” directed the DOJ to hunt for evidence that Biden-era officials pressured social media companies to stifle conservative views.

While new presidents often reorder DOJ priorities, it is highly unusual to command an inquiry into one’s immediate predecessor. Even more striking, Trump’s order bypassed the Department’s own Inspector General and Office of Professional Responsibility – the typical channels for internal oversight – and instead demanded that the Attorney General report his findings directly to a White House political appointee. In short, Trump has thrown the weight of federal law enforcement behind what amounts to a vendetta against his opponents, using the DOJ as an instrument of personal revenge.

Trump himself has been unabashed in telegraphing this intent. In a fiery speech at the Justice Department in March – delivered in the Department’s iconic Great Hall – Trump openly threatened to imprison a litany of rivals. Standing under the DOJ seal, he railed against “corrupt” officials from the Biden years and even career prosecutors who investigated him in the past. He claimed his reelection gave him a “mandate … for a far-reaching investigation” into the “wrongs and abuses” of his opponents. To an audience of federal attorneys, Trump vowed “full and complete accountability” for those he perceives as having persecuted him. This unprecedented scene confirmed the worst fears of critics who warned Trump would use his power to pursue vendettas. In that speech, he even issued vague threats against journalists in attendance, accusing the media of trying to “illegally sway” judges in the cases against him and warning that he was keeping track of them . Such rhetoric – a president hinting at jailing reporters for unfavorable coverage – underscores the atmosphere of intimidation now pervading Washington.

Beyond rhetoric, Trump has acted. He has ordered the firing of numerous officials across government simply for being associated with investigations of him. At DOJ, he boasted from the podium that he had purged “Marxist” prosecutors from the ranks  – a thinly veiled reference to the teams who worked on Special Counsel Jack Smith’s cases and other Trump-related probes. (By his own admission, Trump acknowledged he “may have fired some loyal people” in the process , as the purge was so broad.) At the Department of Homeland Security, officials who testified to Congress about January 6 or otherwise contradicted Trump have been pushed out. Even mid-level civil servants have been dismissed or reassigned if known to be skeptics of Trump’s agenda. The chilling effect is clear: career officials are being warned that their jobs depend on political loyalty. Unsurprisingly, many have resigned rather than face such a climate – exactly the outcome Trump desires.

Trump’s retributive governance has also extended to media and private entities. In addition to incessant attacks on mainstream news outlets as “fake news” enemies, his administration turned its sights on public broadcasting. The new Trump-appointed chair of the FCC (Brendan Carr, himself a Project 2025 contributor) promptly launched investigations into National Public Radio and PBS – with an eye to revoking their federal funding. Project 2025 had called for stripping public media of government support on the grounds they are “leftist” propaganda, and Trump’s team is now acting on that by threatening NPR/PBS’s very existence. Less formally but equally alarming, Trump uses the bully pulpit to sic mobs of online supporters on individual journalists who run afoul of him, sometimes naming them in tweets or rally rants – a tactic that has led to harassment and death threats.

Perhaps most telling is Trump’s approach to the January 6 insurrectionists versus his other foes. In a stark inversion of justice, Trump’s only extensive use of his pardon power so far has been to mass-pardon the January 6 rioters and other allies. By April he had issued clemency to around 1,500 people convicted or charged in connection with the Capitol attack.

At the same time, he urges harsh prosecution of those who opposed him: for example, pressing to charge former House Speaker Nancy Pelosi with “treason” over the impeachment, or investigating election officials in Georgia who refused to “find” him votes. This double standard – mercy for his supporters, persecution for his critics – cements the message that loyalty to Trump is the only currency of justice. It brings to mind Applebaum’s thesis in Autocracy Inc. that modern strongmen subvert the rule of law by weaponizing it against opponents while exempting their cronies.

What America is witnessing in early 2025 is a president unapologetically wielding federal power to settle scores and silence dissent – a hallmark of authoritarian governance. Even some in Trump’s party have winced at this turn. “Using the presidency to go after political enemies is a very dangerous thing,” one former White House lawyer told ABC News, warning that it corrodes the checks and balances meant to constrain any one leader. But Trump has made “retribution” a centerpiece of his second term, unabashedly fulfilling his promise to “punish” those he blames for undermining him.

Implications & Solutions:

• Democratic Implications:
  Trump’s use of government power for personal vengeance marks a dangerous erosion of democratic accountability. Targeting political opponents, critics, and former officials sets a chilling precedent, where governmental authority is weaponized against dissent. This abuse subverts democracy’s fundamental principle of political pluralism and threatens to silence opposition, turning a democratic government into an instrument of autocratic control.

• Real-World Impact:
  This approach fosters widespread fear, deterring government officials, journalists, and ordinary citizens from speaking out against corruption, abuses, or injustice. Victims of political retaliation may suffer unjust criminal investigations, ruined careers, threats, or financial hardships—creating an environment of intimidation. Public servants and whistleblowers become hesitant to perform duties ethically and transparently, undermining government effectiveness and public trust in institutions.

• Path to Solutions:
  Countering retaliatory governance requires immediate legislative, institutional, and civic actions. Congress should strengthen laws to prevent politically motivated investigations, explicitly safeguarding the independence of agencies like the DOJ and FBI. Whistleblower protections must be reinforced to protect officials who report wrongdoing. Transparent oversight hearings, bipartisan condemnation, and rigorous media coverage can expose abuses, deterring future retaliation. Civic and legal advocacy groups should offer assistance to targeted individuals and highlight retaliatory actions publicly, mobilizing broad societal opposition. Education campaigns emphasizing democratic values and the rule of law can strengthen citizen resilience against

Hardline Immigration Crackdown and Human Rights Concerns

Another pillar of Trump’s second-term escalation is an all-out assault on immigration and asylum policies – to an extent that human rights observers describe as a humanitarian crisis in the making. Trump lost no time in resurrecting and amplifying the hardline nativist agenda of his first term. On Day 1, he issued a sweeping proclamation declaring a mass “invasion” of millions of illegal aliens at the southern border.

This “invasion” order invoked extraordinary national security powers to seal the border and suspend ordinary asylum law. In fact, Trump’s order explicitly nullified the legal right to seek asylum in the U.S. for anyone he deemed part of the “invasion,” claiming that admitting such people – even those fleeing violence or persecution – would “permit their continued presence” and thus threaten the country. Effectively, the U.S. slammed its door shut to asylum seekers in violation of international refugee obligations, a move unprecedented in modern times. At the same time, Trump reactivated his first-term emergency rule under Title 42 (ostensibly for “public health” reasons) to turn away migrants en masse, even though COVID-19 was no longer a serious concern. Construction of a fortified border wall has been resumed and accelerated by Pentagon crews as mandated in the invasion order.

Inside U.S. territory, the administration has massively expanded enforcement and detention. Trump signed an order directing that all migrants apprehended – anywhere in the U.S. – be detained to the “maximum extent” of the law until deported . Within days, ICE began implementing a “no release” policy, gutting alternatives-to-detention programs and driving detainee numbers to record highs. He also vastly broadened “expedited removal” procedures, allowing rapid deportation without a court hearing for undocumented immigrants found anywhere in the country (not just near the border).

Previously, immigrants arrested in the interior often had the right to see an immigration judge; now thousands more are subject to summary removal if they cannot immediately prove at least two years’ continuous U.S. residence. This change, first attempted under Trump in 2019, is now in full effect. Immigrant advocacy groups report that long-settled individuals are being swept up in raids and quickly expelled without due process, sometimes separating families and overlooking valid asylum claims in the rush to deport.

Trump has not hesitated to militarize the issue either. He ordered the deployment of active-duty U.S. troops to the border with a sweeping mandate to “seal the borders” and even participate in arresting migrants. This goes well beyond the support roles the military previously played – now soldiers are directly augmenting Border Patrol operations on U.S. soil, raising posse comitatus concerns. The Navy and Coast Guard have been directed to turn back migrant boats, and in a startling move, the administration has begun using the Guantánamo Bay naval base as a detention site for migrants intercepted at sea or at the border.

Planeloads of asylum seekers are being flown by military transport to Guantánamo, which Trump officials argue is not U.S. soil and thus not subject to normal due process. Human rights monitors have decried this as the creation of an offshore legal black hole for migrants – an echo of past “war on terror” tactics now used on families fleeing poverty and violence.

The White House has also moved to shut down pathways that were designed to provide safe haven. In February, Trump ended Temporary Protected Status (TPS) for hundreds of thousands of migrants from countries in crisis – starting with Haitians and Venezuelans. TPS had allowed those already in the U.S. to live and work legally if their home countries faced disasters or war. Trump’s order declares TPS should be “limited” and short-term , and he attempted to strip status from virtually all current beneficiaries. (Federal courts intervened to temporarily block the immediate deportation of Venezuelan TPS holders, calling Trump’s move likely unlawful, but the message was sent that TPS protections are ending.)

The administration also revoked the parole programs that President Biden had established to allow controlled entry of migrants from Cuba, Haiti, Nicaragua, and Venezuela. Those humanitarian parole initiatives had dramatically reduced unlawful crossings by offering a legal avenue. Trump, however, derided them as backdoors for mass migration and canceled them, despite data showing they “successfully reduced” irregular crossings by over 95% for those nationalities. With these programs gone, border arrivals from those countries have spiked again – a crisis arguably of Trump’s own making, but one he cites to justify even harsher measures.

Most strikingly, Trump has ended America’s role in refugee resettlement. He issued an order proclaiming that admitting refugees from overseas is “detrimental to the interests of the United States,” and indefinitely suspended the U.S. Refugee Admissions Program. The only exception carved out was a token provision to consider refugee applications from white South African farmers (“Afrikaners”), a politically favored group on the far right.

Otherwise, the traditional refugee cap of tens of thousands of vulnerable people welcomed annually – a program that has existed for decades – has been brought to an abrupt halt. Planes of vetted refugees who were already in transit in January were turned around. International aid agencies like HIAS and the IRC have condemned this move, noting the U.S. had been a “leader” in refugee protection and its withdrawal sends a signal globally for other countries to follow suit.

Alongside this, Trump moved to end birthright citizenship for certain children born in the U.S., attempting to deny citizenship to U.S.-born babies of undocumented parents by executive order. Legal scholars overwhelmingly consider this order unconstitutional (as it directly contradicts the 14th Amendment), and it was swiftly enjoined in court. But the very attempt reveals the maximalist nature of Trump’s agenda – targeting even newborn U.S. citizens in his immigration crusade.

The human rights implications of these policies are severe. Human Rights Watch observes that Trump’s new immigration edicts have come at a “dizzying pace,” obliterating programs built over decades that provided escape and safety to people fleeing persecution. Asylum seekers who once had a chance to make their case are now stranded in limbo or sent back to danger without a hearing. Families are being held in detention camps indefinitely, a practice courts had limited in the past.

The administration has floated reviving the most draconian measures of Trump’s first term – such as family separations at the border – and while it officially denies separating children, immigration lawyers on the ground report de facto separations happening as parents are detained and minors sent to ORR shelters. The “Remain in Mexico” program is back as well, forcing asylum seekers to wait in perilous encampments in Mexican border towns for any slim chance at U.S. protection. Trump is also pressuring third countries to host refugees far from U.S. soil (a strategy of “externalizing” the refugee burden) . For example, he’s lauded deals for Honduras and Guatemala to take deported asylum seekers from other nations, effectively creating a pipeline to redirect refugees away from the U.S.

International observers and human rights organizations have sounded the alarm. Amnesty International’s first-100-days briefing accused the Trump administration of fueling a “human rights crisis” at the border, citing reports of mistreatment in detention and the refoulement (forced return) of refugees to life-threatening situations.

The U.N. High Commissioner for Refugees diplomatically urged the U.S. to honor its legal obligations to refugees, to little avail. Domestically, immigrant rights advocates argue that Trump’s approach not only inflicts suffering but also violates U.S. law (the right to seek asylum is encoded in federal statute and international treaty). Yet Trump officials insist the extreme measures are needed to restore “order” and American sovereignty. They frequently invoke a nationalist, even militaristic framing: the Department of Homeland Security now refers to its mission in terms of repelling “invaders” and has even started posting combat-style “mission accomplished” updates when flights full of deportees depart. This martial approach to migration marks a dramatic escalation in tone and tactics.

The broader consequences could be lasting. Human Rights Watch warns that America’s draconian stance is “setting an example” that may encourage other countries to “turn their backs on people fleeing for their lives” . Indeed, hardline politicians in Europe and Australia have already hailed Trump’s actions as justification for their own pushbacks. The United States, once a champion of refugee rights, is now a cautionary tale of how a democracy can turn cruel at its borders, trading its humanitarian ideals for a fortress mentality. In Applebaum’s framework, this reflects the “Autocracy, Inc.” playbook: undermining traditional human-rights commitments and rule-of-law norms in favor of a ruthless, exclusionary vision of state power.

Implications & Solutions:

• Democratic Implications:
  Trump’s extreme immigration measures fundamentally undermine America’s democratic ideals, such as respect for human rights, due process, and international law. By disregarding these principles, the administration normalizes authoritarian governance tactics—detention without legal recourse, deportation without due process, and family separation—setting dangerous precedents that weaken constitutional protections for all citizens.

• Real-World Impact:
  The immediate human consequences are severe: families separated indefinitely, children traumatized, and asylum seekers sent back into life-threatening situations. Communities across the U.S. face destabilization and fear, while international standing deteriorates, damaging America’s ability to advocate for human rights globally. The resulting mistrust and resentment also deepen internal societal divisions, weakening the nation’s social cohesion.

• Path to Solutions:
  Immediate legislative action is crucial: Congress must restore robust due process and explicitly prohibit practices like indefinite detention, family separation, and summary deportation. Judicial oversight should aggressively enforce these laws, checking executive overreach. State and local governments, in partnership with NGOs and community organizations, should provide legal aid, protective sanctuary measures, and humanitarian support to migrants and families affected. Internationally, allies and human rights organizations must firmly condemn abuses and advocate for compliance with global refugee and asylum standards. Public education emphasizing America’s immigrant heritage, alongside media transparency highlighting human rights abuses, can rebuild support for humane immigration policies rooted in democratic values and compassion.

Trade Wars and Global Isolationism

Trump’s inward, hardline turn has not been limited to domestic policy. Internationally, his second term has launched an escalation of global trade conflicts and U.S. isolation unseen in generations. Trump wasted no time in resurrecting his trade war instincts – and taking them much further. Within weeks, he reimposed and dramatically hiked tariffs on imports worldwide, jolting markets and straining alliances. According to one analysis, the average effective U.S. tariff rate skyrocketed from about 2.5% at the start of 2025 to roughly 27% by April – the highest level in over a century.

Trump targeted China most aggressively: he raised tariffs on virtually all Chinese goods to a punitive 145% in stages . In retaliation, China slammed its own tariffs on U.S. exports at 125% and, more ominously, restricted exports of rare earth minerals vital to U.S. industries . This tit-for-tat escalation has essentially reignited and supercharged the U.S.–China trade war, causing severe disruptions in supply chains. U.S. manufacturers reliant on Chinese inputs have seen costs explode, and American farmers facing China’s retaliatory tariffs watch their crucial export markets vanish.

The U.S. stock market took a sharp dive on fears of a prolonged standoff – the S&P 500’s steep decline through the winter and early spring has been directly linked to Trump’s trade moves. A Guardian analysis noted that each new tariff announcement sent markets tumbling, as investors braced for higher consumer prices and lower corporate earnings . By early April, equities were in correction territory, prompting talk of a “Trump tariff crash” on Wall Street.

Nor is China the only target. Trump also turned on America’s closest neighbors and allies with protectionist fury. In February he abruptly slapped a 25% tariff on most imports from Canada and Mexico, igniting a trade dispute within North America. He justified it under the guise of holding those countries accountable for “drug trafficking” and “illegal immigration,” essentially using economic weapons to coerce policy changes. (Notably, he suggested he might lift tariffs on specific Canadian or Mexican goods only if they complied with the rules of the U.S.–Mexico–Canada Agreement (USMCA) – a curious stance since both countries were already abiding by USMCA, which prohibits such tariffs.)

After an outcry from U.S. industries and quiet pressure from American businesses, the administration indefinitely “exempted” certain imports from those tariffs, to avoid complete supply chain chaos. But the damage to goodwill was done. Trump’s actions effectively brought North America “back to the brink” of a trade war, raising questions about the viability of USMCA. Some trade analysts fear Trump may even attempt to terminate USMCA down the line, given his oft-stated belief that it was a bad deal.

Simultaneously, Trump took aim at other trading partners. Citing “national security,” he re-imposed 25% global tariffs on steel and aluminum, and expanded them to cover automobiles and auto parts from all countries. The EU, Japan, and South Korea – all staunch allies – were outraged, and began preparing retaliatory tariffs on U.S. products (from Harley-Davidson motorcycles to Kentucky bourbon, echoing the 2018 trade skirmishes).

Then on April 2, in a dramatic flourish, Trump declared what he called “Liberation Day” for the U.S. economy. In a televised address, he announced an immediate 10% tariff on all imports into the United States – a sweeping tax on every foreign good – with higher “reciprocal” tariffs on 57 specific countries deemed to have unfair trade surpluses with the U.S..

This radical step stunned economists and U.S. trading partners alike. It marked the first time in modern history that the U.S. had imposed an across-the-board import tariff. Markets reacted instantly: the Dow Jones plunged as investors foresaw collapsing international trade. America’s closest allies were aghast; even during the 1930s Smoot-Hawley era, such a blanket tariff was never implemented.

Facing chaos, the administration partially walked back some of these tariffs within a week – announcing that the new country-specific tariffs (ranging from 11% to 50% on various nations) would be delayed for 90 days for most countries. But the 10% baseline tariff remains in effect, along with the hefty sectoral tariffs on metals and autos. The net result is that the U.S. has retreated into protectionism to a degree unseen in generations. The Federal Reserve and OECD have already downgraded U.S. growth forecasts, warning that Trump’s trade restrictions and the retaliation they provoke are raising the risk of a global recession.

Beyond tariffs, Trump has steered the U.S. toward economic isolationism by disengaging from international institutions and agreements. On his first day back in office, he re-withdrew the United States from the World Health Organization (WHO), fulfilling a campaign promise and claiming the WHO was beholden to China. Shortly thereafter, his administration halted U.S. financial contributions to the World Trade Organization (WTO) – effectively freezing U.S. support for the global trading system.

Washington insiders say Trump has flirted with a full withdrawal from the WTO, an institution he has long criticized, though he has not taken that final step yet. Still, by pausing payments (the U.S. is the top WTO funder) Trump has severely undermined the WTO’s operations. This comes after years of U.S. blockage of new WTO appellate judges, a policy dating to Trump’s first term that has already hobbled the WTO’s dispute settlement system. In effect, Trump is ensuring that there is no viable court to adjudicate the trade wars he keeps unleashing. The administration has also signaled skepticism or outright hostility toward other multilateral economic bodies – from the IMF to the OECD – whenever they critique his tariffs or spending cuts. In the diplomatic arena, Trump’s America is increasingly going it alone.

A May 2025 CBC report highlights the diplomatic consequences of this posture: strained relations with NATO partners, skepticism among G7 allies, and an eroded sense of U.S. reliability. Trump’s performance abroad—confrontational with democratic allies, yet consistently deferential to autocrats—illustrates a realignment of U.S. foreign posture toward strongman politics over shared democratic principles.

Crucially, Trump’s isolationism is not just economic but also geopolitical. He has estranged traditional allies while expressing admiration for autocratic leaders. At the Munich Security Conference in February, Vice President Vance and Secretary of State Pete Hegseth shocked European partners by bluntly dismissing NATO’s importancee. told European nations to “increase military spending and decrease reliance on Washington,” pointedly warning that Trump “will not allow anyone to turn Uncle Sam into Uncle Sucker” anymore.

Vance chided Europe about “respecting free speech” (a jab relating to European constraints on far-right parties) as a condition for continued U.S. defense support. Such rhetoric, delivered on a global stage, marked a turning point in the post-WWII alliance. European leaders were left “shocked and worried” at the clear signal that the U.S. security guarantee can no longer be taken for granted.

Indeed, Trump has intimated he may withdraw from or severely downgrade U.S. participation in NATO if allies do not meet his demands (something he nearly did late in his first term, according to former aides). As a result, long-standing alliances are fraying. Countries like France and Germany are scrambling to fortify European defense cooperation in case the U.S. effectively abdicates its NATO role.

Conversely, Trump has cozied up further to authoritarian powers. Famously enamored of “strong” leaders, he has leaned into that tendency. “If you have a smart president, they’re not enemies,” Trump said of Russia, China, and North Korea at a rally, musing that under his leadership “you’ll make them do great”. He has referred to these adversarial states almost as a unit – an “autocratic alliance” he would prefer to partner with.

True to form, since January he has soft-pedaled criticism of Vladimir Putin (even amid Russia’s grinding war in Ukraine) and praised China’s Xi Jinping as “a very smart leader”. In private calls, according to leaked diplomatic cables, Trump has even proposed a three-way summit with Putin and Xi to carve up spheres of influence – alarming U.S. allies in Asia and Eastern Europe. This aligns disturbingly with what Applebaum describes in Autocracy, Inc.: modern dictators and illiberal leaders “opportunistically work together toward their common goal: damaging democracies and democratic values”. Trump’s posture suggests an openness to that kind of transactional great-power politics, rather than the value-based alliances that defined U.S. foreign policy in the past.

In sum, Trump’s second term has seen the United States turn inward and antagonize much of the world – even friends – while embracing regimes that reject liberal democracy. The new tariffs and trade barriers have raised global economic tensions to levels many experts find unsustainable. The Director-General of the WTO warned that the system is at risk of “unraveling” if the largest economy refuses to participate. Major U.S. exporters like Boeing and GM have warned that continued trade conflicts could force layoffs and factory closures at home. Yet the White House remains unapologetic.

Trump insists the U.S. will “win any trade war” and claims tariff revenue will enrich the Treasury (despite economists noting that tariffs are paid by U.S. importers/consumers, not foreign countries  ). He even floated the fanciful idea that tariffs could replace income taxes – saying if the trade deficit is eliminated, tariff money would fund the government (a notion experts dismissed as economic illiteracy ). Such rhetoric, however flawed, plays well with his base, who see his confrontational stance as finally putting America First on the world stage. The danger, of course, is a self-inflicted economic wound and a weakened international order. As the Carnegie Endowment observed, Trump has effectively “declared independence from the global system that America made”, leaving the U.S. isolated and its leadership role in doubt.

Implications & Solutions:

• Democratic Implications:
  Trump’s unilateral trade wars and isolationist policies erode international norms, bypass democratic oversight, and centralize economic decision-making in the executive branch. When tariffs are weaponized for political aims and global alliances are dismissed, Congress is sidelined, institutional checks are weakened, and democratic accountability in foreign and economic policy is diminished. This empowers authoritarian-style governance where major national strategies are shaped by personal grievance rather than public deliberation.

• Real-World Impact:
  Consumers face immediate consequences: rising prices on essential goods, supply chain disruptions, and job losses in export-dependent industries. Farmers and manufacturers reliant on global markets suffer disproportionately. Internationally, long-standing alliances strain, global cooperation on climate and security weakens, and geopolitical instability increases. Economies worldwide are dragged into recessionary trends, and America’s global credibility as a stable economic partner plummets—undermining both prosperity and influence.

• Path to Solutions:
  To restore democratic and economic stability, Congress must reclaim trade authority, limiting the president’s ability to impose sweeping tariffs without legislative approval. Strengthening institutions like the U.S. Trade Representative’s office and mandating public cost-benefit analyses of major trade actions can enhance transparency. Internationally, reengaging with multilateral organizations such as the WTO and OECD will help stabilize global trade systems and rebuild trust. Domestic policy should support affected sectors through targeted relief, workforce transition programs, and investment in resilient supply chains. Public communication should clearly explain the real costs of isolationism, ensuring citizens understand how global cooperation benefits their everyday lives and democratic systems alike.

Expansionist Rhetoric: Greenland and Canada in Trump’s Sights

Amid his domestic power grab and international belligerence, Trump has also indulged in an expansionist rhetoric so outlandish that it borders on the absurd – yet it has been stated as presidential policy. In early 2025, Trump openly revived his fascination with acquiring new territory for the United States. During an impromptu press gaggle aboard Air Force One just days after inauguration, Trump declared his intent to purchase (or otherwise obtain) Greenland, the resource-rich Arctic island governed by Denmark. “I think we’re going to have it. I think the people want to be with us,” Trump said confidently, as if Greenlanders were clamoring to join the Union. He mused that he didn’t see why Denmark should retain Greenland, hinting that “it would be a very unfriendly act” for Copenhagen to refuse a U.S. takeover since “it’s for the protection of the free world”.

In Trump’s view, the U.S. needs Greenland “very badly” for national security and would “take care of” its small population “and cherish them” after annexation. These remarks were met with public ridicule in Denmark – the Danish Prime Minister repeated that Greenland is “not for sale”, just as she did when Trump first raised the idea in 2019. But Trump was undeterred. Reports emerged (confirmed by the Financial Times) that Trump even pressed the issue in a call with Denmark’s leader, to no avail . By March, he doubled down: “We need it. We have to have it,” he told a radio interviewer, and even dispatched a delegation led by Vice President Vance to visit the U.S. air base in northern Greenland – a move seen as staking a foothold . All this over an idea most observers considered a diplomatic non-starter. Trump’s own State Department was caught flat-footed trying to manage the fallout with an irate Denmark and wary NATO allies (for whom Greenland’s strategic position is significant).

Perhaps even more astonishing were Trump’s statements about Canada. He suggested that Canada, America’s close ally and the world’s second-largest country by land area, “could become the 51st U.S. state.” In the same January media session, Trump claimed to “love Canada” but asserted “Canada has been taking advantage of the United States for years” on trade. He proceeded to threaten that the U.S. might cut off its massive economic support unless Canada essentially joined the United States. “I don’t want to spend hundreds of billions supporting a country unless that country is a state,” Trump said, touting that Canadians would “pay much lower taxes” and be “much more secure” if annexed by the U.S.. The implication was clear: in Trump’s mind, Canada depends entirely on U.S. largesse, so perhaps it should be absorbed. Canadian Prime Minister Justin Trudeau responded icily that becoming a U.S. state is “not going to happen”, calling the idea absurd . (Trudeau, facing political headwinds, announced he would resign later in the year, quipping that with ideas like this from Washington, “never say never” to what might come next.)

Trump did not stop at economic threats. In an interview with NBC’s Kristen Welker in early May, President Trump refused to entirely rule out using military force against Canada or Greenland. Pressed on whether he’d ever consider an invasion or attack to achieve his aims, Trump responded, “Well, I think we’re not going to ever get to that point. It could happen,” regarding Canada.

On Greenland, he was even more blunt: “I don’t rule it out… We need that for national and international security,” he said matter-of-factly. Welker noted how unthinkable such talk is – for over a century, no U.S. president would publicly entertain the notion of attacking America’s peaceful neighbor. Yet here was Trump, “mostly – but not entirely – ruling out” military action on Canada. He ultimately added, “It’s highly unlikely. I don’t see it with Canada… I have to be honest with you,” as if mere unlikelihood (rather than absolute forbidding) were a reassuring stance.

The mere fact that the President of the United States would discuss potential war against Canada or the forcible acquisition of Canadian territory sent shockwaves through diplomatic circles. Canadian media reported on contingency plans in Ottawa to bolster defense ties with allies and even humorous social media campaigns about raising militias (tinged with very real anxiety).

Trump’s bellicose rhetoric triggered a surge of nationalism within Canada. His repeated tariff salvos and insults throughout early 2025 actually helped galvanize Canadian public opinion against him. In fact, in Canada’s snap federal election in April, the Liberal Party – initially unpopular after nearly a decade in power – staged a comeback, with former Bank of Canada governor Mark Carney leading them to victory. Observers credited Carney’s improbably strong win to a “patriotic fervor” ignited by Trump’s bullying; Carney portrayed himself as standing up to U.S. encroachment, and voters rallied around that cause. (His opponent, a Trump-friendly conservative, faltered as Canadians recoiled from Trump’s rhetoric.)

In essence, Trump’s expansionist talk unintentionally “propelled” Canada’s ruling party to an unlikely fourth term, uniting Canadians across the spectrum in defense of their sovereignty. If Trump imagined Canadians would welcome integration, the reaction proved the opposite. Carney, now Prime Minister, flew to Washington and, in a tense meeting, firmly told Trump that Canada “is not for sale or merger, full stop.” By all accounts, Trump treated Carney more respectfully in person than he had treated Trudeau (whom Trump had derisively called “Justin Tru-d’oh” and even “Governor Trudeau” on social media ). But the fundamental rift remains: a U.S. president has openly entertained dismantling Canada as a nation.

To the international community, Trump’s musings about annexing Greenland and “unifying” with Canada are somewhere between farce and alarm. Danish and Canadian officials have sought reassurances through diplomatic backchannels that the U.S. military would never be used in such a manner. The Pentagon quietly clarified that it has no plans for operations regarding Greenland or Canada, and members of Congress – including some Republicans – laughed off the idea, asserting Congress would never authorize any aggression.

Still, the fact that these conversations are even happening underscores the extremity of Trump’s second-term escalations. Such expansionist or irredentist rhetoric is more commonly associated with 19th-century imperialists or contemporary dictators than with American presidents. It has led some commentators to analogize Trump’s mindset to that of other authoritarian nationalists who harbor territorial ambitions (one might recall Putin eyeing Ukraine, or China regarding Taiwan). Trump appears to view geopolitics in a transactional, zero-sum light: territories are prizes to be acquired if the opportunity arises. While few take literally the notion that the U.S. will annex new land under Trump, the damage to U.S. credibility is real. Allies now wonder whether bizarre policy lurches are the new normal in Washington.

Meanwhile, autocratic leaders abroad surely note Trump’s cavalier attitude toward invading a neighbor – something they could exploit rhetorically (“Why can’t we do likewise if America talks that way?”). It all feeds into what Applebaum calls the “Autocracy, Inc.” trend, where strongmen increasingly act in concert or emulate each other’s bold moves . By this view, Trump’s flirtation with annexation is not just a quirk; it’s part of a broader abandonment of the post-WWII norm against redrawing borders by force. The last time the U.S. seriously considered expanding its territory was arguably over a century ago. Now, under Trump 2.0, even that norm is being tested, if only rhetorically. As Axios dryly put it, such notions had been “unthinkable” for the United States – until now.

Implications & Solutions:

• Democratic Implications:
  Trump’s casual threats of territorial acquisition—whether through coercion or military means—violate international law and democratic norms. Such rhetoric mirrors authoritarian irredentism, signaling a disregard for sovereignty, diplomacy, and peaceful coexistence. If normalized, it legitimizes aggressive nationalism and sets a precedent that other autocrats could cite to justify territorial aggression, destabilizing the post-WWII international order built on rules, alliances, and mutual respect.

• Real-World Impact:
  These statements damage U.S. credibility, strain diplomatic relations with close allies, and provoke global insecurity. In Canada and Denmark, they sparked public outrage, forced emergency diplomatic reassurances, and triggered political fallout, including leadership changes. Domestically, such rhetoric distracts from urgent policy issues and fosters a dangerous view of global power rooted in conquest, not cooperation—fueling ultranationalism and militarized exceptionalism among Trump’s base.

• Path to Solutions:
  Congress and the State Department must reaffirm the U.S. commitment to territorial integrity and the sovereignty of allies, through public declarations and binding resolutions. Allies should be reassured via diplomatic missions, and bilateral ties must be deepened to prevent future escalations. Defense and intelligence officials must be empowered to counter dangerous rhetoric with facts and strategic clarity. Education initiatives that highlight the history and dangers of imperialism—along with robust media fact-checking—can help inoculate the public against fantasies of expansion. Finally, reinforcing the importance of international law and multilateral diplomacy is key to preserving both global stability and American democratic identity.

Autocracy Inc. Comes to America

In these few months of 2025, the United States has undergone a jarring democratic backslide. Virtually every action of Trump’s second term – the executive power grabs, the institutional purges, the attacks on the press and courts, the scapegoating of migrants, the isolation from allies, and the nationalist chest-thumping – fits the pattern of modern autocracy. Anne Applebaum, in her book “Autocracy, Inc.”, describes how 21st-century strongmen are less interested in lofty ideology and more focused on entrenching their own power and wealth, often by hollowing out institutions and working in tandem with fellow authoritarians.

Trump’s presidency seems to be following that script to an uncanny degree. He has “weaponized” the Justice Department to pursue personal enemies. He has muzzled independent agencies and watchdogs, replacing them with loyalists or dissolving them outright. He and his allies have set about delegitimizing any source of authority outside the executive – whether it be a judge, a journalist, a civil servant, or an international institution – thereby eliminating checks on his rule.

These shifts are not abstract. According to CBC’s foreign policy analysis, Trump’s preference for strongman diplomacy over alliance-based strategy mirrors a growing pattern of executive solidarity among authoritarian leaders. His global stagecraft isn’t an anomaly—it’s a deliberate reframing of power relations that align the U.S. more closely with the authoritarian logic described in Applebaum’s Autocracy Inc.

In foreign affairs, Trump has made clear that he prefers the company of autocrats who flatter him and make “deals” to mutual benefit, rather than the constraints of multilateral alliances built on democratic values. This mirrors Applebaum’s observation that today’s dictators form a kind of self-interested network – “Autocracy, Inc.” – cooperating to shore up their regimes and oppose democratic ideals. The U.S., under Trump, appears disturbingly close to joining that network rather than leading the free world.

Implications & Solutions:

• Democratic Implications:
  Trump’s second-term transformation of the executive branch into a loyalty-based power structure mirrors the model of modern autocracies—where checks are gutted, institutions serve the ruler, and laws are bent into tools of personal rule. As described by Anne Applebaum in Autocracy, Inc., such regimes retain the appearance of democracy while hollowing out its core. If this model is normalized in the U.S., it could permanently damage constitutional governance, leading to systemic impunity, politicized justice, and the erosion of citizen power.

• Real-World Impact:
  Everyday Americans experience this shift through reduced government accountability, politicized law enforcement, restricted civil liberties, and the collapse of truth-based public discourse. Civil servants face loyalty tests instead of merit-based evaluations. Whistleblowers are silenced, and courts become battlegrounds for executive overreach. Internationally, America’s credibility as a democratic leader collapses, weakening coalitions for human rights and democratic development across the globe. Illiberal regimes feel emboldened as the U.S. abandons its own democratic ideals.

• Path to Solutions:
  A democratic recovery must begin with structural reform. Congress should pass legislation codifying limits on executive power—such as the Protecting Our Democracy Act—and reinforce the independence of inspectors general, special counsels, and watchdog offices. Campaign finance reform and transparency laws are essential to limit the oligarchic influence Applebaum warns of. Civic education and media literacy must be scaled nationally to foster an informed electorate capable of resisting autocratic narratives. Coalitions of civil society organizations, journalists, academics, and former officials must document abuses, build institutional resilience, and restore the norm that public service means fidelity to the Constitution—not to any individual leader. Globally, the U.S. should reengage with democratic alliances and explicitly position itself against authoritarian cooperation networks, not within them. America must choose to be part of a democratic future—or risk becoming a cautionary tale of how quickly liberty can unravel.

The urgency and significance of this moment cannot be overstated. In prior eras, American democracy’s resilience was often taken for granted, but Trump’s second term has exposed how fragile it truly is. The guardrails are straining. Inspectors general have been fired or rendered toothless. Congress, partially compliant due to partisan loyalties, has struggled to serve as a meaningful check – some Trump-allied lawmakers are enabling his vengeance campaigns and even echoing his false narratives about stolen elections and “deep state” conspiracies. The judiciary, while still standing firm in places, is under unprecedented pressure and faces open calls for purge and punishment. And the civil society firewalls – a free press, an informed public, ethical elites – are battered by propaganda and fear. In short, the fabric of American constitutional governance is being tested as never before by a president bent on transforming the republic in his own image.

We are witnessing the “Second-Term Escalation” of Donald Trump: a culmination of tendencies that were visible in his first term but are now amplified without constraint. Where Trump once clashed with institutions, he now seeks to command or crush them. Where he once paid lip service to legal process, he now disregards court orders and dares the judiciary to stop him. What was once norm-breaking has become institution-breaking. Even Trump’s own former officials who tolerated his norm violations are reportedly alarmed at the qualitative break this term represents. As one conservative former judge put it, “America is in a constitutional crisis”.

History provides sobering lessons of how quickly democracies can slide into authoritarianism when institutional checks falter. In Poland and Hungary, elected strongmen used just such tactics – politicizing courts, media, and civil service – to entrench one-party rule while retaining a veneer of democracy. Applebaum, who has studied those cases, explicitly cautions that the U.S. is not immune. “No one should be surprised,” she writes, “because this is exactly what Trump and many who support him have long desired.”  Trump’s first term gave a taste; his second term is the full course. It represents not a deviation from his character but an acceleration of his long-held aims.

Ultimately, the fate of Trump’s gambit – and by extension, the fate of America’s democratic experiment – is still being decided. Courts are pushing back; civic resistance and whistleblowers within government persist; the 2026 midterm elections loom as a potential inflection point. But as of May 2025, the United States finds itself in a precarious place. The hallmarks of liberal democracy – free and fair elections, rule of law, separation of powers, protection of minority rights and dissent – are under assault from within by the very executive sworn to uphold them. The second-term escalation of Donald Trump has thus become a clarion call. It is a moment of heightened urgency, one that will be studied for generations to understand how a constitutional republic can edge toward “Autocracy, Inc.” from the inside. Whether this trajectory continues or is halted will determine if America in the years ahead remains a government of laws – or becomes, in effect, a government of one man.

The Republic on Trial: Structural Failures, Civic Retreat, and the Long Road Back

Broken Guardrails: How the U.S. Constitution Enabled an Autocratic Turn

The United States Constitution is often described with reverence—an enduring framework of liberty and the world’s oldest written democratic charter. But like any structure designed in a different era, its resilience depends not only on the blueprint but on how it is maintained, adapted, and respected. In recent years, that framework has shown signs of strain—not because it failed to function as designed, but because it was never designed to resist a sustained internal effort to dismantle democracy from within. The Trump presidency, especially its continuation into a second term, has laid bare a troubling truth: the Constitution has guardrails, but they were never built to withstand a president determined to crash through them. In fact, some of its very mechanisms—intended to balance power and protect liberty—have enabled minority rule, judicial capture, and an erosion of accountability.

Design for a Different Century

The U.S. Constitution was built for a small, agrarian republic fearful of monarchy, not for a hyper-polarized superpower with a 24/7 media ecosystem and billion-dollar campaigns. Its emphasis on checks and balances assumed a baseline of good faith actors. But the Trump years revealed how brittle those assumptions have become. The Electoral College, once a buffer against demagogues, now serves to entrench minority rule—twice in two decades, a candidate won the presidency while losing the popular vote. The Senate gives outsized power to sparsely populated states, allowing a party with fewer total votes to dominate the legislative and judicial branches for a generation. These structures, once seen as stabilizers, now act as accelerants in democratic backsliding.

Judicial Capture as a Long Game

The Trump administration, guided by outside groups like the Federalist Society and Mitch McConnell’s strategic obstructionism, reshaped the judiciary at every level. But this did not happen in a vacuum. It exploited a constitutional feature: lifetime judicial appointments, confirmed by a Senate that can represent as little as 16% of the population. In effect, a shrinking demographic minority gained permanent influence over constitutional interpretation. The result is not just conservative jurisprudence, but a Court increasingly unmoored from public sentiment—striking down voting rights protections, environmental safeguards, and reproductive freedoms. The judiciary, instead of being a check on executive overreach, is in some cases now its enabler.

The Pardon Power and Unchecked Executive Levers

Among the Constitution’s most glaring vulnerabilities is the near-absolute pardon power. Trump wielded it to reward loyalists and obstruct investigations—a tool no other democracy affords its head of state without restriction. The refusal of Congress to reform this power underscores the broader issue: the founders did not anticipate a Congress unwilling to check a president from their own party. Impeachment, the ultimate constitutional remedy, has proven politically unworkable. Trump’s Senate acquittals—despite overwhelming evidence—sent a chilling message: constitutional remedies fail when partisanship trumps principle.

Democratic Implications

The United States now faces a core dilemma: a constitutional system that allows for democratic decay through legal means. What happens when a president violates norms but not laws? Or when laws themselves are outdated, vague, or pliable under partisan control? The very architecture meant to preserve liberty has become a shelter for illiberalism. This erosion is not just procedural—it alters the public’s trust in institutions. If majorities can no longer enact policy or remove dangerous officials through democratic means, frustration breeds apathy or extremism. Rule by minority becomes de facto rule without consent.

Real-World Impact

The consequences ripple across daily life. Judicial decisions unaligned with majority will shape healthcare access, labor rights, and climate response for decades. A system where electoral outcomes are skewed by geography rather than popular mandate breeds alienation—especially among younger and diverse voters. People lose faith in the vote, in the courts, and in the promise that democracy can deliver justice. Meanwhile, bad actors are emboldened: if the rules allow it, why not exploit them further? Trump’s brazen use of constitutional leeway is already being studied and copied by state-level actors across the country.

Path to Solutions

Reforming constitutional vulnerabilities is daunting but essential. Some reforms—like abolishing the Electoral College—require amendments and are politically distant. But others are achievable. Congress can pass laws to:

• Limit the pardon power in cases of obstruction or self-dealing.

• Impose term limits or age caps on federal judges.

• Expand the size of the Supreme Court to reflect demographic and ideological balance.

• Restore the Voting Rights Act with modern protections and federal oversight.

• Create nonpartisan redistricting commissions to undo gerrymandered districts that entrench minority rule.

Furthermore, civic renewal must accompany structural change. Educating Americans about the Constitution as a living document—one that must evolve to safeguard democracy—can help build the public will for reform. Activists, legal scholars, and state legislatures play critical roles in pushing these changes forward. Internationally, other democracies should not take American constitutionalism as a gold standard. The U.S. must relearn humility: its system has shown both brilliance and fragility. Now is the time to renovate its foundation—before the next determined autocrat turns design flaws into demolition.

Democracy Unplugged: Why the Public Withdrew, and What It Cost Us

Before democracy collapses from the top, it quietly erodes from below. The 21st century didn’t just bring the rise of authoritarian strongmen—it also saw the withdrawal of citizens from the democratic process itself. Civic disengagement didn’t begin with Trump, but his ascent was only possible because vast swaths of the public had already tuned out, lost trust, or been manipulated into apathy and hostility. Democracy, after all, is not merely a system of institutions; it is a relationship between citizens and the state. That relationship has frayed.

The public did not suddenly stop caring. It was overwhelmed, distracted, atomized, and demobilized by decades of systemic neglect, institutional decay, and technological capture. The symptoms were clear: plummeting turnout in local elections, declining trust in government and media, and growing belief that “both sides are corrupt.” Trump’s rise exploited this vacuum of civic meaning—offering spectacle over substance, grievance over governance. But the deeper issue was already in motion: democracy unplugged itself from the people, and the consequences are still unfolding.

The Collapse of Civic Infrastructure

Democratic participation requires more than voting. It relies on habits of engagement—school boards, town halls, unions, churches, local newspapers. These civic touchpoints once sustained a sense of belonging and public voice. But over the past half-century, many eroded. Public school civics education was hollowed out. Local journalism collapsed under digital advertising monopolies. Labor union membership shrank. Even religious institutions became more polarized or politicized. The result: a public increasingly uninformed, disoriented, and left without institutions through which to channel civic power.

Hijacked Attention, Fragmented Reality

While democratic habits decayed, digital media filled the void. But instead of replacing civic life, it rewired it. Social media’s architecture rewarded outrage, conspiracy, and tribalism over deliberation and trust. News consumption became partisan identity performance; algorithms sorted citizens into ideological echo chambers. Trump didn’t invent this—he mastered it. By the time he ran, large portions of the electorate lived in incompatible realities, primed to reject traditional institutions and embrace emotional, us-versus-them narratives. A president need not destroy democracy if citizens no longer see value in it.

The Crisis of Civic Confidence

For many Americans, especially younger generations, democracy has failed to deliver. Stagnant wages, unaffordable housing, mass shootings, climate threats—these structural problems seemed impervious to public will. Why vote if nothing changes? Why trust institutions that serve corporations or entrenched elites? Into this void came populists offering not solutions, but scapegoats. A functioning democracy depends on public belief in its efficacy. That belief now flickers at best. A 2024 Pew survey showed that only 17% of Americans trusted the federal government to do what is right most of the time. A democracy cannot survive if most of its citizens believe it’s already a sham.

Democratic Implications

A disengaged citizenry is fertile ground for authoritarianism. When people cease to participate, authoritarians need not suppress them—they merely inherit their power. Cynicism becomes complicity. And democratic institutions without public defenders become hollow shells: courts ruled by partisans, elections gamed by procedural tricks, media dismissed as propaganda. If democratic culture is not lived and practiced by the many, it can be hijacked by the few. Trump did not conquer a healthy democracy; he preyed on one where too many had already checked out.

Real-World Impact

The breakdown of civic life affects real people in real ways. Disconnected communities are more vulnerable to misinformation, extremism, and social decay. Families split over “alternate facts.” Voters lose faith in their power to improve healthcare, wages, education. In the absence of trust, fear and grievance fill the vacuum. The cost isn’t just political—it’s personal. Social isolation, rising mental illness, and communal fragmentation all correlate with civic disengagement. Democracy’s unraveling is not a far-off scenario; it manifests in school board shouting matches, pandemic denial, and voter suppression laws that succeed because few resist them.

Path to Solutions

Reactivating democratic citizenship requires a massive investment in civic infrastructure. This begins with universal, mandatory civics education—not rote memorization of government structure, but hands-on engagement with democracy: media literacy, critical thinking, local activism. Schools should partner with local governments and NGOs to immerse students in community issues. Simultaneously, we must rebuild the local information ecosystem: fund local journalism through public endowments, tax incentives, or nonprofit conversion models. No democracy can survive in a national fog of disinformation and corporate clickbait.

Reinvigorating public participation also means making it matter. Voting should be easier, not harder: same-day registration, mail-in ballots, and proportional representation would help reconnect the electorate to outcomes. Government must be seen to deliver—public works that meet real needs (childcare, clean energy, public health) must become visible symbols of democratic function.

Digital platforms should also be treated as part of the civic sphere. Regulate algorithms that promote extremism; compel transparency in political ad targeting; elevate fact-based, community-rooted content. Democracy must compete for attention in a saturated media space—it cannot afford to cede that battleground.

Finally, create spaces for democratic ritual and belonging: citizens’ assemblies, participatory budgeting, national civic holidays. People must experience democracy not only as governance but as culture—a shared project that gives life meaning. The plug was pulled, but the wires remain. The system can be rewired. The question is whether we choose to reconnect in time.

Built to Break: The Long March of the American Right

Trump did not emerge from a vacuum. His rise was not a hostile takeover of the Republican Party—it was its logical endpoint. For over half a century, a deliberate transformation reshaped American conservatism from cautious restraint into revolutionary zeal. The movement that once championed constitutional limits and institutional preservation gradually morphed into a project of institutional conquest and demolition. The American right, by 2016, was not defending the system—it was preparing to break it. Trump simply kicked down a door that had long been hollowed from within.

This chapter traces that long arc. From the ideological insurgency of Barry Goldwater in 1964, through the scorched-earth tactics of Newt Gingrich in the 1990s, to the ethno-nationalist populism of Trump, the rightward trajectory is clear. This was not just about tax cuts or deregulation. It was about delegitimizing government, destroying trust in shared institutions, and consolidating minority rule. The corrosion was strategic. The wreckage is now democratic.

The Goldwater Rebellion and the Rise of Movement Conservatism

In 1964, Senator Barry Goldwater’s failed presidential bid marked the beginning of a new right. Though soundly defeated, Goldwater shifted the GOP away from postwar moderation and toward ideological purity, anti-statism, and cultural grievance. His campaign birthed a generation of activists who believed the liberal establishment—and later the “deep state”—was inherently illegitimate. Ronald Reagan inherited this movement, cloaking radical ideas in sunny optimism, but the core belief remained: government was the problem, and the left was an existential threat to American virtue.

Gingrich’s Warfare Politics

In the 1990s, Newt Gingrich turned this ideology into governing strategy. As Speaker of the House, he introduced a politics of permanent conflict: delegitimize the opposition, destroy norms, weaponize language. He called Democrats traitors and demanded zero cooperation. Gridlock became a goal, not a failure. This scorched-earth style, amplified by right-wing media like Rush Limbaugh and Fox News, trained a generation of Republicans to see compromise as surrender. It was not about policy—it was about power and its purification.

From Dog Whistles to Megaphones

The American right increasingly embraced white grievance politics under the guise of culture war. The Southern Strategy of Nixon, the moral panics of the Reagan era, and the xenophobic eruptions post-9/11 laid the foundation. But by the 2000s, racial dog whistles gave way to megaphones. The Tea Party in 2009 merged anti-government rage with racial anxiety, painting Obama’s presidency as an alien usurpation. Birtherism, popularized by Trump himself, was not a fringe—it was a preview. The GOP base, radicalized by right-wing media and gerrymandered into ideological echo chambers, no longer tolerated dissent. Moderates were purged; extremists were elevated.

Trump as Culmination, Not Aberration

When Trump descended his golden escalator, he did not hijack the GOP—he spoke its id. Anti-immigrant, anti-press, anti-elite, and openly disdainful of democratic norms, Trump offered purity without pretense. The party fell in line because it was already predisposed to. The road from Goldwater to Gingrich to Trump is not a straight line, but it is a continuous one. Each generation of conservatives learned to mistrust compromise, weaponize institutions, and view democratic pluralism as defeat.

Democratic Implications

The radicalization of the American right has normalized permanent institutional warfare. When one of the two major parties rejects the legitimacy of its opponents, democracy ceases to function as a system of governance and becomes a zero-sum struggle for survival. Polarization becomes existential. Minority rule is entrenched through the courts, the Electoral College, and gerrymandering—not as unfortunate side effects, but as strategic goals. The result is a system where a shrinking demographic base can exert disproportionate control, while majoritarian preferences—on guns, abortion, climate, healthcare—are routinely thwarted. Democracy becomes performance, not power.

Real-World Impact

The shift has had profound effects on daily governance and public trust. Government shutdowns, judicial confirmations turned into blood sport, and election denials are not bugs—they’re features of a strategy to delegitimize democratic process. Policies with broad support die on arrival. Civic norms erode: violence becomes thinkable, truth becomes optional. Millions of Americans, shaped by decades of partisan media, now believe their political opponents are enemies of the state. In such a climate, even basic public health measures or peaceful transfers of power become contested terrain. This is not abstract: it is why COVID responses failed, why school boards face threats, why Capitol police were beaten by flags.

Path to Solutions

Reclaiming democracy from this long march requires confronting its ideological roots. First, democratic reform must be systemic: end gerrymandering, abolish or reform the Electoral College, expand voting access, and ensure proportional representation where possible. Democracy cannot survive if it structurally rewards minority rule.

Second, media reform is essential. The right’s infrastructure of disinformation must be countered not by censorship but by competition and transparency. Public media must be revitalized. Digital platforms should be regulated for algorithmic amplification of falsehoods. Funding for independent local journalism—especially in rural or right-leaning regions—can rebuild civic trust where it has eroded most.

Third, parties must become accountable again. The GOP in particular must face a reckoning. It should not be treated as a normal political party if it refuses to abide by democratic outcomes. Corporate donors, media platforms, and civic institutions must stop enabling anti-democratic actors. Bipartisanship cannot be fetishized when one party seeks to destroy the system.

Fourth, build a civic counterculture. Institutions that teach democratic values—unions, schools, faith communities—must be empowered to offer a compelling alternative to right-wing grievance. Citizenship must be felt, not just taught. That means participatory politics, visible public goods, and spaces of belonging.

Finally, create legal accountability for norm destruction. If future political leaders attempt to overturn elections or violate democratic oaths, they must face legal consequences—not merely political ones. A functioning republic cannot survive repeated assaults without enforcement.

The long march of the American right has been strategic, disciplined, and devastating. The counter-march must be equally determined—and democratic not just in aim, but in method.

Legalized Corruption: The Architecture of Authoritarian Wealth and Power

Authoritarianism does not thrive in a vacuum—it feeds on money, influence, and the erosion of accountability. In the United States, this process has not occurred through coup or revolution, but through a slow, legal corrosion of safeguards. Corruption here is not a matter of briefcases of cash under tables. It is institutionalized, normalized, even celebrated. Over decades, rules governing money in politics have been gutted, public offices have been monetized, and vast financial networks have been erected to turn democratic influence into private gain. The result is a democracy that increasingly resembles a marketplace—where those with the most capital write the rules, and the public is priced out.

Donald Trump did not create this system—but he is its purest expression. He governed not to serve, but to profit. He appointed loyalists to dismantle oversight. He funneled taxpayer money into his properties. He monetized the presidency with unprecedented boldness—and faced virtually no legal consequences. But Trump was not an anomaly. He was a mirror held up to a system designed to look the other way. The architecture of authoritarian wealth in America is legal, bipartisan, and deeply embedded.

Citizens United and the Floodgates of Dark Money

The 2010 Supreme Court ruling in Citizens United v. FEC opened the door to unlimited corporate and union spending in elections. It birthed a new era of Super PACs and 501(c)(4) nonprofits, which can spend vast sums on politics without disclosing donors. Billionaires now shape the national agenda through a handful of donations. Their funding doesn’t just influence who gets elected—it defines what issues are even debated. Entire legislative agendas are now written to appease donor classes rather than voters.

The Revolving Door and Regulatory Capture

From Wall Street to the Pentagon to the Department of Energy, senior officials routinely cycle between public office and private sector roles—often in industries they once regulated. This revolving door ensures that policy is crafted with an eye toward future profit. Trump weaponized this dynamic, appointing industry insiders to dismantle regulations from within. Scott Pruitt at the EPA, Betsy DeVos at Education, Wilbur Ross at Commerce—all blurred the line between public duty and private enrichment.

Grift as Governance: The Trump Model

Trump’s personal corruption was relentless and visible. He refused to divest from his businesses, encouraged foreign governments to book stays at his hotels, and spent millions of taxpayer dollars on golf trips to his own properties. His campaign and PACs funneled money into Trump-owned entities. Members of his family leveraged their government positions to secure trademarks, deals, and influence abroad. Yet the most damaging aspect was not the scale of the grift—it was the normalization. When corruption is no longer scandalous, it becomes structure.

Legal Loopholes as Strategic Infrastructure

None of this was accidental. Lobbyists write legislation. Ethics offices are underfunded. Congressional financial disclosures are toothless. Conflicts of interest are tolerated. The Federal Election Commission is routinely deadlocked. And at every step, there is a party—and increasingly, a movement—intent on keeping it this way. What we face is not just corruption but a form of authoritarian enrichment: using the tools of democracy to build networks of unaccountable power and wealth.

Democratic Implications

Legalized corruption hollows out democratic legitimacy. When voters perceive that laws are written for the rich and powerful, trust collapses. Civic engagement declines. Polarization intensifies. Citizens begin to believe—often rightly—that their voice counts less than a billionaire’s donation. This erosion of faith is not theoretical. It is measurable in declining turnout, rising cynicism, and the growing allure of populist demagogues who promise to "drain the swamp" while constructing new ones. When institutions are seen as rigged, anti-democratic actors gain credibility simply by promising to break them.

Real-World Impact

This system affects Americans materially. Tax codes are written to favor the ultra-wealthy. Environmental policies are shaped by extractive industries. Healthcare legislation is molded by insurance and pharmaceutical lobbies. Rent-seeking behavior drives inequality and stifles innovation. Meanwhile, public services stagnate, wages stagnate, and upward mobility slows. Internationally, America’s credibility as a model of good governance erodes. Allies question U.S. commitment to transparency. Authoritarian states use American dysfunction as propaganda. When governance is sold to the highest bidder, everyone else pays the price.

Path to Solutions

Reversing this trajectory requires systemic intervention:

• Campaign Finance Reform: Congress must pass comprehensive legislation to limit dark money, enforce transparency, and reestablish contribution caps. Public financing models (such as matching small donations) could reduce dependence on oligarchic donors.

• Ethics and Conflict of Interest Laws: Mandate full divestment from business holdings for top officials. Extend conflict-of-interest restrictions beyond current loopholes. Strengthen the Office of Government Ethics and give it enforcement power.

• End the Revolving Door: Institute mandatory cooling-off periods before former officials can lobby or work in industries they once regulated. Transparency in hiring practices must be enforced.

• Corporate Transparency and Accountability: Require full disclosure of beneficial ownership of corporations to prevent shell companies from serving as slush funds or influence vehicles.

• Reform the Federal Election Commission: Appoint commissioners committed to enforcement, and redesign the commission’s structure to prevent partisan deadlock.

• Judicial Oversight: Impose enforceable ethics rules for Supreme Court justices and all federal judges, including mandatory recusals and financial disclosure.

• Public Pressure and Media Exposure: Support investigative journalism that exposes conflicts and corruption. Encourage watchdog organizations through grants and partnerships.

The United States cannot reclaim democratic credibility—at home or abroad—until it severs the link between wealth and political power. Corruption is not just about greed. It is about control. The price of ignoring it is not just lost money—it is lost democracy.

A House Without Locks: How Democracies Leave Themselves Vulnerable

Democracies are not self-sustaining. They require maintenance, adaptation, and vigilance. Yet too often, liberal democracies rest on the assumption that their institutions are self-correcting by design. The United States, long seen as the world’s most stable democracy, illustrates how dangerous that assumption can be. Over time, the American system developed gaps—vulnerabilities left unaddressed because the prevailing belief was that “it can’t happen here.” But history shows us that democracies don’t usually die in sudden coups; they erode through neglect, opportunism, and the misuse of legitimate powers.

Trump’s rise and rule exploited these gaps masterfully. He didn’t need to rewrite the Constitution—he simply operated where the Constitution was silent. He didn’t need to ban elections—he just cast doubt on their legitimacy. He didn’t need to dissolve Congress—he undermined it with executive power and party loyalty. America’s democracy resembled a house with beautiful architecture but no locks on its doors, no alarm system, and no plan for an inside job.

This chapter examines the core vulnerabilities—some designed, some evolved—that made the U.S. system so susceptible to autocratic erosion. From the Electoral College to weak conflict-of-interest laws, from vague emergency powers to partisan control of election certification, the blueprint for abuse was always there. Trump was not the architect—but he was the first to try every door.

Fragile Norms, Not Binding Laws

Much of American democracy rests not on law but on tradition: presidents releasing tax returns, respecting judicial independence, avoiding self-enrichment, conceding elections. These are customs, not requirements. When a leader ignores them—and a party enables it—there is no automatic correction. Trump’s presidency showed that norms are only as strong as the people who choose to follow them.

Unchecked Executive Power

The U.S. presidency has accumulated sweeping powers over time—particularly in foreign policy, surveillance, and emergency declarations. Trump declared a national emergency to bypass Congress on border wall funding, a move courts allowed. In his second term, he’s invoked the Insurrection Act preemptively, broadened the use of military for domestic policing, and used executive orders to bypass legislative oversight. The legal infrastructure exists to tilt the balance of power permanently toward the executive branch—and Trump has made it clear he intends to use it.

Electoral Loopholes and Partisan Certification

Elections in the U.S. are run by states, many of which allow partisan actors to oversee or certify results. Trump allies have taken control of key state-level election offices, creating a scenario where future election outcomes could be overturned under false pretenses. The Electoral College already distorts the popular will; when combined with gerrymandering, voter suppression, and judicial complicity, it creates a structural advantage for minority rule.

Judicial Capture Without Safeguards

The federal judiciary is lifetime-appointed, but its appointment process has become a partisan arms race. The Senate can block nominees for years (as with Merrick Garland) or confirm them in weeks (as with Amy Coney Barrett). There are no ethics codes for Supreme Court justices, no term limits, and no mechanism for review short of impeachment. As a result, the courts have become a channel for ideological entrenchment, not a neutral guardian of constitutional principles.

Legislative Paralysis and Minority Rule

The Senate’s structure (two seats per state) gives disproportionate power to smaller, often less diverse states. Combined with the filibuster, it enables a minority of Americans to block popular legislation. Gridlock creates disillusionment and erodes faith in democratic responsiveness—fertile ground for authoritarian “fixers” who promise to bypass dysfunction with personal power.

Democratic Implications

When the foundations of democracy rely on unwritten rules, personal honor, and self-restraint, they become susceptible to bad actors. Trump demonstrated how much damage can be done simply by refusing to play by the assumed rules. If other leaders follow suit—inside or outside the U.S.—the damage compounds. Democracy becomes a set of hollow rituals, easily gamed. The “house without locks” metaphor becomes literal: anyone with enough ambition and contempt can walk in, rearrange the furniture, and declare themselves the owner.

Real-World Impact

For citizens, these vulnerabilities translate into tangible harm. Rights become subject to political winds: reproductive freedom, voting access, environmental protection, and labor rights can swing dramatically with each administration. Internationally, allies lose confidence in U.S. reliability, while adversaries exploit instability. Domestically, if people feel that elections don’t matter or that rules are selectively enforced, civic disengagement grows. That disengagement is not neutral—it leaves power in the hands of the determined and ruthless.

Path to Solutions

To secure democracy, democracies must stop relying on goodwill and start locking the doors. Key reforms include:

• Codify Democratic Norms: Make what was once tradition into law—mandatory tax returns, conflict-of-interest rules, timely transition protocols, and clear consequences for refusal to concede.

• Rein in Emergency Powers: Pass legislation requiring Congressional approval for emergencies beyond 30 days; redefine the limits of the Insurrection Act to prevent domestic abuse.

• Election Integrity Safeguards: Mandate nonpartisan certification of results, federal standards for ballot access, and automatic voter registration. Reform or abolish the Electoral College.

• Judicial Reform: Impose term limits for Supreme Court justices, create enforceable ethics codes, and standardize recusal procedures.

• Legislative Renewal: Abolish the filibuster or require a “talking” filibuster to restore accountability. Consider Senate reforms that balance federalism with democratic equity.

• Constitutional Amendments: Although difficult, a new generation of amendments may be necessary to codify rights, restore voting equality, and modernize 18th-century frameworks for 21st-century realities.

No system is foolproof. But a democracy that learns from its breaches, patches its vulnerabilities, and strengthens its locks can endure. The U.S. has seen how close it can come to breakdown. The next test may not give as much warning.

Democracy’s Immune System: How to Rebuild Trust, Truth, and Law

Democracy depends not just on laws and elections but on a shared sense of reality and trust in the basic legitimacy of institutions. Like a body’s immune system, democratic societies require mechanisms to detect lies, resist bad actors, and heal from attacks. In recent years—and especially under Trump—this immune system has been dangerously compromised.

Misinformation now spreads faster than correction. Courts are politicized, the press is delegitimized, and citizens increasingly inhabit separate information universes. In such conditions, bad faith actors thrive. Autocrats and demagogues do not need to destroy democracy outright—they just need to make people give up on it.

This chapter explores how truth, trust, and law were weakened—and what it would take to restore them. We examine the collapse of civic literacy, the erosion of shared narratives, the weaponization of digital spaces, and the creeping normalization of lawlessness. The result is a dangerously fragile civic body, vulnerable to infection from within. Rebuilding democratic immunity will require systemic, sustained, and bold reform.

The Collapse of Trust

Trust in government, media, and institutions has been falling for decades—but Trump weaponized that distrust. By attacking the judiciary, press, and even public health officials, he turned skepticism into active hostility. Surveys now show that significant portions of Americans do not believe in the legitimacy of elections, vaccines, or judicial verdicts. Once trust is broken at scale, democratic governance cannot function.

The Weaponization of Falsehood

Trump’s prolific lying was not a bug—it was a political strategy. By flooding the zone with falsehoods, he created a climate in which objective truth became debatable and loyalty to him replaced factual accountability. The “big lie” about the 2020 election was only the most consequential example. As truth decays, law becomes harder to enforce, journalism loses impact, and voters make decisions based on fiction.

The Weakening of Legal Deterrence

Despite multiple investigations and credible evidence of misconduct, Trump avoided serious legal consequences for years. His ability to delay, deflect, and dominate the news cycle eroded faith that justice applies equally. That erosion spreads: if elites can act with impunity, ordinary citizens lose respect for the law. The rule of law depends not just on statutes but on public perception of fairness and consistency.

The Death of the Shared Civic Story

Democracy needs more than mechanics—it needs meaning. A country must believe in itself as a democratic project. That belief comes from education, culture, and visible integrity in governance. Trump’s celebration of cruelty, disdain for compromise, and glorification of force broke the civic story. Many Americans no longer agree on what their country stands for—or even whether it should remain a democracy.

Democratic Implications

A democracy without trust in its core institutions cannot survive. If large swaths of the population believe elections are rigged, the courts are partisan, and the media are corrupt, then democratic legitimacy evaporates. When truth itself becomes politicized, accountability becomes impossible: every indictment is “a witch hunt,” every scandal “fake news.” The result is not healthy skepticism, but nihilism—and nihilism is democracy’s end state.

Real-World Impact

In practical terms, the collapse of civic trust leads to civil conflict. Families are torn apart by conspiracy beliefs. Public health suffers when large populations reject expert advice. Crimes go unpunished when public officials defy subpoenas and the law seems optional. The breakdown of truth-based governance spills into all aspects of life—schools, policing, emergency response, even commerce. Meanwhile, hostile foreign actors exploit division, stoke disinformation, and fund polarizing narratives. A democracy divided against itself is easy prey.

Path to Solutions

Rebuilding the democratic immune system is a generational project—but it must begin now.

• Civic Education Renaissance: Schools must teach not only how government works but why it matters. Media literacy, democratic values, and historical context should be core curricula from primary school onward. Young citizens should emerge prepared to defend democracy.

• Independent Truth Institutions: A nonpartisan national fact-checking body—publicly funded but insulated from politics—could provide rapid-response clarification on major public claims. Think of it as an FDA for truth: not enforcing laws, but certifying factual baselines.

• Platform Accountability: Social media must be regulated like other mass communicators. Algorithms that prioritize outrage must be redesigned to prioritize veracity. Platforms should label, deprioritize, or de-monetize content proven to be false—especially on elections, health, and civic institutions.

• Restoration of Legal Credibility: The law must be seen to apply equally. That means prosecuting high-profile violations of the Constitution and public trust, regardless of political fallout. Legal systems must streamline processes to prevent endless delays, and strengthen protections for whistleblowers and investigators.

• Civic Infrastructure Investment: Libraries, public broadcasters, and local journalism must be fortified. A thriving civil society—town halls, citizen assemblies, neighborhood forums—can provide shared spaces for facts and trust to grow again.

• Cultural Reweaving: Artists, filmmakers, authors, and comedians play a role in rebuilding narrative. National storytelling—about past fights for justice, about resilience, about civic heroes—must be revived. Culture can help restore meaning where politics has failed.

• Electoral Integrity Guarantees: Enact laws to protect election workers, fund secure voting infrastructure, and provide independent audits. Public confidence in elections must be built from the ground up.

This is no longer about left or right—it is about survival. A republic needs reality, or it collapses into fiefdoms of fantasy. The rebuilding must be relentless, honest, and hopeful. If Trump proved how easily the immune system can be bypassed, then he also showed how urgently we must strengthen it—for the next virus may be even harder to detect.

The Next American Century—or Its Last?

The idea of an "American Century"—a world shaped by U.S. values, economic leadership, and democratic ideals—was born after World War II and carried forward by presidents of both parties. But now, in the wake of Trump’s second-term escalation and continued democratic erosion, the idea stands at a crossroads. Will the United States remain a beacon of liberal democracy, scientific innovation, and human rights? Or will it continue down a path of internal division, institutional decay, and geopolitical retreat? This chapter sketches possible futures—plausible scenarios that could unfold depending on how America and the democratic world respond to the mounting challenges of autocracy, polarization, disinformation, and global instability.

We are not forecasting fate, but mapping forks in the road. Across these possibilities, one throughline persists: what the United States chooses to become will profoundly shape the world of the 21st century—for better or for worse.

Scenario One: Authoritarian Consolidation

In this future, Trump’s playbook becomes institutionalized. Successors—whether from his family or ideological allies—normalize state retaliation against critics, dismantle checks and balances, and erode fair elections. Electoral laws are skewed toward permanent minority rule, the Justice Department is weaponized against political opponents, and the federal bureaucracy is purged of independent expertise in favor of loyalist ideologues.

Internationally, the U.S. retreats into transactional nationalism, abandoning alliances and human rights diplomacy. Authoritarian states grow emboldened, and democratic backsliding spreads. Within the U.S., dissent grows more dangerous, disinformation reigns, and legal resistance becomes futile. The U.S. still calls itself a democracy—but the label is hollow.

Scenario Two: Democratic Renewal

The backlash to authoritarian excess catalyzes widespread reform. Civic engagement surges, turnout remains high, and a new generation of political leaders prioritizes democratic safeguards. Congress passes structural reforms: expanding voting rights, enacting campaign finance transparency, restoring guardrails around the presidency, and rebuilding the civil service on merit.

Tech platforms are regulated to curb disinformation, and public investment in education, journalism, and civic infrastructure begins to restore trust. The U.S. reasserts leadership in democratic alliances, countering autocratic influence abroad while setting high standards at home. This renewal doesn’t erase the damage—but it prevents decay from becoming collapse.

Scenario Three: Stalemate and Slow Decline

The most probable near-term outcome is a grinding middle path: no full authoritarian turn, but no robust renewal either. Courts occasionally halt abuses, but accountability remains elusive. Elections still occur, but voters are increasingly alienated and misinformed. Governance alternates between dysfunction and executive overreach.

Globally, the U.S. becomes an unreliable partner. Allies hedge bets, autocracies expand influence, and global norms erode further. Domestically, inequality deepens, civic bonds fray, and national identity fragments. The constitutional system limps on, technically functional but increasingly irrelevant to the lived reality of many citizens.

Democratic Implications

Whether the U.S. remains a functioning democracy will set the tone for global governance this century. If America falls fully into authoritarianism, it legitimizes the same turn elsewhere and deprives the world of a crucial democratic counterweight. If instead it renews and reforms, it can once again lead by example—not through rhetoric, but through resilience. The stakes are existential: the future of democratic self-government, globally, may hinge on whether the American experiment adapts or ossifies.

Real-World Impact

The path America takes will touch every facet of life—domestic and international. For Americans, it will mean the difference between living in a nation of laws or one of vengeance, a country where policy reflects public will or only the will of the powerful. For the world, a democratic or autocratic America will shape climate cooperation, nuclear stability, migration policy, trade norms, and global information flows. American decay would leave a vacuum others—China, Russia, regional strongmen—are eager to fill, but without the democratic guardrails or civic freedoms. On the other hand, a renewed American democracy could fuel a global resurgence in democratic activism and credibility.

Path to Solutions

Charting a path to the next American century—as one grounded in democracy rather than dominance—will require long-term vision and immediate courage. Key steps include:

• Institutional Reform: Update the U.S. Constitution for modern threats—e.g., independent redistricting, Electoral College reform, Supreme Court term limits, and constraints on emergency powers.

• Election Protection: Guarantee national voting standards, restore the Voting Rights Act, and counter voter suppression with universal mail voting and same-day registration.

• Public Service Rebuilding: Depoliticize federal agencies, insulate career civil servants, and reinvest in data-driven governance.

• Disinformation Defense: Enforce transparency in political advertising online, break algorithmic amplification of falsehoods, and promote factual content through public interest media.

• Civic Engagement Infrastructure: Make national service (military or civil) a universal option post-high school. Expand participatory budgeting and local deliberative democracy forums.

• Judicial Independence: Reaffirm the nonpartisan role of courts by tightening judicial ethics, improving nomination transparency, and depoliticizing judicial review.

• Long Game Strategy: Foster civic virtue by blending humanities, history, and media literacy in schools. Rebuild trust from the ground up—with real listening, not branding.

Most of all, Americans must resist the allure of despair. The greatest danger may not be Trump’s autocracy—but democratic fatigue in response to it. The U.S. survived secession, world wars, and economic collapse. It can survive Trumpism too—but only if it chooses the hard path of civic renewal over the easy slide into authoritarian comfort.

This is not just a political choice. It is a generational challenge—and the world is watching. Whether the next American century is democratic depends not on declarations, but on what Americans do next.

The Morality Vacuum: Why Trump Is Not an Aberration but a Mirror

Background

In the July 8, 2025, issue of The Atlantic, columnist David Brooks offers a sobering thesis: Donald Trump’s enduring appeal is not despite his moral transgressions, but because the very concept of moral authority has been eroded in the cultural DNA of contemporary America. Drawing on philosopher Alasdair MacIntyre’s critique of modernity, Brooks traces how the United States transitioned from a virtue-centered moral ecosystem to one governed by emotivism—where “right” and “wrong” are merely expressions of personal preference or tribal loyalty.

Implications

This perspective reframes Trump’s dominance not as an exceptional deviation from American norms, but as the culmination of a long cultural unraveling. In a society where institutional trust is shattered, religious authority is fragmented, and civic education is an afterthought, Trump’s rejection of universal principles reads less like a liability and more like a survival skill. He thrives by performing strength, not morality—by winning, not persuading.

Many of his followers do not admire his ethics; they admire his effect. In a post-truth era, Trump’s shamelessness scans as honesty. His aggression becomes authenticity. He breaks norms not in spite of the public, but for it—offering a cathartic release from the suffocating ambiguity of modern moral life.

Real-World Impact

This has profound implications for how democracy functions. If a significant portion of the electorate no longer demands coherence, integrity, or civic restraint from leaders—but instead rewards dominance, combativeness, and ideological validation—then the mechanisms of accountability collapse. Investigations, indictments, and even outright lies lose their shaming power. Moral authority doesn’t disappear; it gets redefined as entertainment, victimhood, or defiance.

This also explains why traditional political countermeasures—fact-checks, appeals to history, bipartisan norms—fail to land. They rely on a shared moral grammar that no longer exists. Trump doesn't violate the rules of the game; he plays a different game entirely, in a stadium the old referees no longer control.

Path to Solution

Combating this dynamic requires more than legal constraints or political strategy. It demands a cultural reformation: the rebuilding of moral literacy, public trust, and civic identity from the ground up. This includes:

• Civic Education Revival: Teaching young people not just how institutions work, but why they matter—and what virtues sustain them.

• Moral Imagination in Media: Elevating narratives that model empathy, courage, restraint, and justice—not just winning and dominance.

• Institutional Integrity: Restoring the credibility of journalism, academia, and the courts through transparency and service—not performance and polarization.

• Community Reweaving: Creating spaces—religious, local, digital—where shared purpose can be rediscovered beyond ideological trench warfare.

Trumpism cannot be countered solely by opposing Trump. It must be made culturally obsolete—replaced not with a new strongman, but with a society that no longer needs one.

Disclaimer

This essay was developed with the assistance of artificial intelligence (AI) tools. AI was utilized for drafting, analysis, research support, and content refinement, always under human oversight. While extensive measures were taken to verify all information and ensure factual accuracy, AI-generated content may occasionally contain inaccuracies or incomplete details due to inherent limitations of the technology. Readers are advised to consult the provided citations and independently verify critical claims. The author and publisher disclaim liability for errors, omissions, or potential inaccuracies resulting from the use of AI technology. Responsibility for interpreting and applying the insights presented herein rests with the reader.

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Sources re Trumps 2nd Term:

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• The Guardian – “Trump 100 days: White House action plan makes Project 2025 look mild” (Rachel Leingang, May 2, 2025)
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Footnote References for Additional Chapters

• Brookings Institution – “Trump’s impact on American institutions: a legacy of erosion” (Norman Eisen et al., January 2021)
  https://www.brookings.edu/research/trumps-impact-on-american-institutions/

• The Atlantic – “The Senate is a Countermajoritarian Nightmare” (David A. Graham, October 14, 2020)
  https://www.theatlantic.com/ideas/archive/2020/10/senate-problem/616708/

• Harvard Law Review – “How Constitutional Design Affects Democracy” (Daryl J. Levinson, 2019)
  https://harvardlawreview.org/2019/03/how-constitutional-design-affects-democracy/

• The New Yorker – “The Real Cost of Citizens United” (Jeffrey Toobin, October 27, 2014)
  https://www.newyorker.com/magazine/2014/10/27/money-talks

• ProPublica – “How Dark Money Is Taking Over Judicial Elections” (Robert Faturechi, March 13, 2023)
  https://www.propublica.org/article/judicial-elections-dark-money-campaigns

• The Guardian – “Democracy’s Crisis of Confidence” (Madeleine Albright & Larry Diamond, December 5, 2023)
  https://www.theguardian.com/commentisfree/2023/dec/05/democracy-crisis-confidence-albright-diamond

• Pew Research Center – “Public Trust in Government: 1958–2023” (Released March 2023)
  https://www.pewresearch.org/politics/2023/03/10/public-trust-in-government-1958-2023/

• The Atlantic – “How the GOP Gave Up on Democracy” (Adam Serwer, January 2024)
  https://www.theatlantic.com/ideas/archive/2024/01/republican-party-democracy-2024/677234/

• The New York Times – “A Long March to Authoritarianism” (Jamelle Bouie, February 26, 2022)
  https://www.nytimes.com/2022/02/26/opinion/republicans-authoritarianism.html

• Democracy Journal – “The GOP’s Authoritarian Evolution” (Steven Levitsky and Daniel Ziblatt, Summer 2023)
  https://democracyjournal.org/magazine/65/the-gops-authoritarian-evolution/

• OpenSecrets – “Tracking Political Dark Money in the U.S.” (2024)
  https://www.opensecrets.org/dark-money

• International IDEA – “The Global State of Democracy 2023”
  https://www.idea.int/gsod/

• Freedom House – “Democracy Under Siege” (2024 Annual Report)
  https://freedomhouse.org/report/freedom-world/2024/democracy-under-siege

• V-Dem Institute – “Democracy Report 2024: Defiance in the Face of Autocratization”
  https://v-dem.net/media/publications/dr_2024.pdf

• Journal of Democracy – “Authoritarian Learning and Autocratic Cooperation” (Christopher Walker, July 2021)
  https://journalofdemocracy.org/articles/authoritarian-learning-and-autocratic-cooperation/

• Carnegie Endowment – “Digital Authoritarianism: China and the New Information Order” (Shanthi Kalathil, 2020)
  https://carnegieendowment.org/2020/01/31/digital-authoritarianism-china-and-new-information-order-pub-80721

• RAND Corporation – “Truth Decay: The Diminishing Role of Facts and Analysis in American Public Life” (Kavanagh & Rich, 2018)
  https://www.rand.org/pubs/research_reports/RR2314.html

• Council on Foreign Relations – “How Democracies Can Counter Authoritarian Influence” (Yasmeen Serhan, 2023)
  https://www.cfr.org/article/how-democracies-can-counter-authoritarian-influence

• The Atlantic – “Why Do So Many People Think Trump Is Good?” by David Brooks, July 8, 2025
  https://www.theatlantic.com/ideas/archive/2025/07/why-do-so-many-people-think-trump-good/674238/

• MacIntyre, Alasdair – After Virtue, University of Notre Dame Press, 1981

• Pew Research Center – “Americans’ Trust in Government Remains Low,” March 2025
  https://www.pewresearch.org/politics/2025/03/13/public-trust-in-government-2025

• Harvard Kennedy School – “Civic Education and the Fragility of Democracy,” Policy Brief, January 2025
  https://www.hks.harvard.edu/research/policy-briefs/civic-education-and-democracy