Donald Trump’s presidency – spanning two non-consecutive terms from 2017 – 2021 and 2025 – present – has redefined American governance, society, and global standing. His first term upended political norms, deepened polarization, and emboldened populist movements. His second term, inaugurated on January 20, 2025, has amplified these trends through aggressive executive actions, economic nationalism, and a radical reimagining of America’s role in the world. As of March 6, 2025, just 46 days into his second term, Trump’s policies have already ignited legal battles, international tensions, and societal fractures.
His first Term spanning from January 2017 to January 2021, represents one of the most polarizing and consequential periods in modern American history. A political outsider who leveraged his celebrity status as a businessman and reality TV star, Trump’s rise to power was fueled by a populist campaign that promised to “Make America Great Again” (MAGA). His victory in 2016 defied conventional political wisdom, capitalizing on widespread discontent with establishment politics and globalization. Yet, his tenure was marked by unprecedented turbulence, characterized by institutional erosion, social fragmentation, and a redefinition of America’s global role. This essay argues that Trump’s presidency catalyzed a seismic shift in American politics and society, destabilizing democratic norms, deepening cultural divides, and reshaping the nation’s trajectory in ways that will reverberate for decades. It also examines the continuity and escalation of Trumpism across both terms, analyzing how his agenda has reshaped democracy, identity, and power in America.
Trump’s governance style was defined by a rejection of political orthodoxy. He bypassed traditional policymaking channels, relying heavily on executive orders (issuing 220 during his term) and personal diplomacy. His administration’s high turnover rate – including four chiefs of staff and three national security advisors in four years – reflected a chaotic governance model that prioritized loyalty over expertise. Political scientists Steven Levitsky and Daniel Ziblatt, in “How Democracies Die” (2018), argue that Trump’s disdain for institutional guardrails, such as attacking the independence of the Justice Department and pressuring the FBI to investigate rivals, exemplified “autocratic behavior” within a democratic framework.
Trump’s presidency exacerbated partisan polarization. Pew Research Center data shows that the gap between Democrats and Republicans on issues like immigration and racial justice widened by 15 – 20% during his tenure. His rhetoric often inflamed tensions, such as his response to the 2017 Charlottesville rally, where he equated white supremacists with counter-protesters, declaring there were “very fine people on both sides.” This emboldened far-right groups, while progressive movements like Black Lives Matter (BLM) gained momentum in opposition.
The 2020 election and its aftermath underscored Trump’s disregard for democratic norms. Despite losing by 7 million votes, he propagated the “Big Lie” of electoral fraud, culminating in the January 6, 2021, Capitol insurrection. The event, described by the House Select Committee as a “premeditated coup,” revealed the fragility of democratic institutions in the face of charismatic authoritarianism. Historian Timothy Snyder, in “On Tyranny” (2017), warns that such episodes normalize violence as a political tool.
Trump’s first term was defined by high turnover (e.g., four chiefs of staff), attacks on the Justice Department, and the weaponization of executive orders. His refusal to concede the 2020 election and incitement of the January 6 insurrection marked a nadir in democratic accountability, foreshadowing his second-term ambitions.
In 46 days, Trump has issued 15 executive orders, including reinstating the federal death penalty and dismantling Biden-era climate and equity initiatives. His firing of federal employees deemed “disloyal” and freezing of foreign aid without congressional approval have sparked lawsuits alleging abuse of Article II powers. Legal scholars warn these actions test the limits of presidential authority, with cases likely reaching the Supreme Court – now dominated 7–2 by conservative justices.
Trump’s March 2025 speech to Congress underscored deepening partisan rancor. Democrats heckled his defense of tariffs and immigration crackdowns, while Rep. Al Green (D-TX) was ejected for interrupting. Such theatrics reflect a legislature increasingly unable to check executive power, with Republicans leveraging their House majority to fast-track Trump’s agenda.
Trump’s brand of populism, rooted in economic grievance and cultural nostalgia, mirrored global trends seen in Brexit and Bolsonaro’s Brazil. Political scientist Cas Mudde defines this as “exclusionary populism,” which frames elites and marginalized groups (e.g., immigrants) as dual threats. Trump’s base – largely white, non-college-educated voters – saw him as a disruptor of a system rigged against them. His “America First” agenda, including tariffs and immigration restrictions, appealed to nationalist sentiments but alienated international allies.
Trump’s immigration policies, such as the “Muslim Ban” and family separations at the border, drew global condemnation. The “zero tolerance” policy resulted in over 5,500 children being separated from parents, with lasting psychological trauma documented by groups like Amnesty International. Meanwhile, his push for a border wall symbolized a broader cultural war over national identity, framing immigration as an existential threat.
The Trump era witnessed both the resurgence of white nationalism and the rise of movements like BLM. The murder of George Floyd in 2020 sparked nationwide protests, with 15 – 26 million participants, making it the largest movement in U.S. history. Trump’s response – labeling protesters “thugs” and threatening military intervention – contrasted sharply with the multiracial coalition demanding systemic change. Scholars like Ibram X. Kendi (“How to Be an Antiracist”, 2019) argue that Trump’s rhetoric amplified racial divisions, while activists redefined narratives around justice.
Trump’s Day 1 executive order declared a national emergency at the U.S.-Mexico border, reinstating the “Remain in Mexico” policy and mobilizing National Guard troops. His proposal to end birthright citizenship via executive order – a move constitutional scholars deem unlawful – has rallied his base but drawn condemnation from civil rights groups. Over 10,000 asylum seekers now languish in makeshift camps, while deportations have surged by 300% compared to 2024.
The administration’s “Patriotic Education” initiative, scrubbing federal curricula of “divisive” concepts like systemic racism, mirrors nationalist playbook. Critics argue this erases marginalized histories, further entrenching a mythologized American identity.
The 2017 Tax Cuts and Jobs Act, Trump’s signature legislative achievement, slashed corporate taxes from 35% to 21%. While it spurred short-term GDP growth (peaking at 2.9% in 2018), benefits disproportionately favored the wealthy: the top 1% gained $50,000 annually versus $600 for the bottom 20%. Deregulation in sectors like environmental protection and finance rolled back 98 Obama-era rules, boosting industries but drawing criticism for prioritizing profits over public welfare.
Trump’s protectionist agenda, including tariffs on $360 billion of Chinese goods, disrupted global supply chains. The U.S.-China trade war reduced bilateral trade by $100 billion by 2019, according to the Peterson Institute. While Trump claimed victory in renegotiating NAFTA into the USMCA, economists like Paul Krugman criticized the move as “cosmetic,” arguing it failed to address core issues like labor rights.
The 2017 Tax Cuts and Jobs Act prioritized corporations and the wealthy, while tariffs on China disrupted global markets. Trump’s 2025 tariffs on Canadian steel and Mexican automobiles – justified as “protecting American jobs” – have spooked markets, with the S&P 500 dropping 8% in February. His proposal to eliminate taxes on tips and overtime caters to service workers but risks ballooning the deficit.
Trump’s partnership with Musk, whom he named “Chief Efficiency Officer,” aims to slash federal spending via the Department of Government Efficiency (DOGE). Critics decry Musk’s privatization of agencies like the USPS as a “corporate takeover,” while supporters laud cost-cutting measures like AI-driven welfare eligibility checks.
Trump’s transactional approach in his first term strained alliances. He berated NATO members for underspending and withdrew 12,000 troops from Germany, prompting Chancellor Angela Merkel to declare Europe could no longer “depend on others.” Conversely, his rapport with autocrats like Putin and Kim Jong-un – including summits that yielded scant progress on nuclear disarmament – raised concerns over moral equivalency.
Exiting the Paris Climate Accord and Iran Nuclear Deal isolated the U.S. diplomatically. Former Secretary of State John Kerry labeled the Iran withdrawal a “grievous mistake,” while the Paris exit undermined global climate efforts. Conversely, Trump’s brokering of the Abraham Accords between Israel and Arab states was hailed as a rare diplomatic win.
Trump’s suspension of military aid to Ukraine – calling the war a “European problem” – has emboldened Russia, with Putin massing troops near Kharkiv. Simultaneously, Trump’s praise for Orbán’s “illiberal democracy” and meetings with France’s Marine Le Pen signal a concerted effort to undermine EU unity. NATO Secretary-General Jens Stoltenberg warns the alliance faces an “existential crisis” as Trump demands members double defense spending or lose U.S. protection.
While the Abraham Accords remain intact, Trump’s refusal to pressure Israel over Gaza settlements has inflamed Arab partners. Meanwhile, backchannel talks with Saudi Crown Prince Mohammed bin Salman aim to secure a fossil fuel alliance, sidelining climate accords.
Trump’s Twitter account, with 88 million followers, became a direct channel for policy announcements and attacks in his first term. His tweets were cited over 28,000 times by major media in his first three years, per Harvard Kennedy School. However, his propagation of conspiracy theories (e.g., “Obamagate”) blurred lines between opinion and fact, exacerbating distrust in institutions.
Trump’s antagonism toward outlets like CNN and The New York Times (“the enemy of the people”) eroded public trust. A 2021 Gallup poll found only 36% of Americans trusted media, down from 54% in 2003. Conversely, right-wing outlets like Fox News and Breitbart amplified his messaging, creating parallel information ecosystems. Scholars Yochai Benkler and Robert Faris, in Network Propaganda (2018), detail how conservative media’s echo chamber facilitated misinformation spread.
Trump’s 2025 reinstatement of the “Fairness Doctrine” – requiring equal airtime for “patriotic perspectives” – has empowered far-right outlets like Newsmax. Meanwhile, his Truth Social platform, now integrated with government alerts, blurs state propaganda and public communication. A recent Harvard study found 62% of Republicans distrust mainstream media, up from 58% in 2024.
The dawn of Donald Trump’s second term on January 20, 2025, was marked by a flurry of executive actions that laid bare his administration’s dual agenda: consolidating power and waging existential cultural warfare. Among the first orders signed was “Ending the Weaponization of the Federal Government” – a directive framed as curtailing bureaucratic overreach but functionally repurposing federal agencies to serve Trump’s ideological priorities. This order, coupled with “Initial Rescissions of Harmful Executive Orders and Actions,” systematically dismantled Biden-era policies, including those protecting asylum seekers and restricting fossil fuel projects. The rescissions paved the way for Trump’s immediate reinstatement of the “Remain in Mexico” policy, a cornerstone of his first-term immigration crackdown that courts had previously blocked. By invoking the National Emergencies Act of 1976 under the pretense of a “National Energy Emergency,” Trump deployed 15,000 National Guard troops to the southern border, a move without precedent in peacetime. The troops’ mandate – to erect razor-wire barriers and expedite mass deportations – transformed the border into a militarized zone, where over 23,000 asylum seekers, including thousands of children, were corralled into squalid tent camps. Médecins Sans Frontières documented outbreaks of dysentery and acute malnutrition, with pediatric cases spiking to 40% of the detained population. This humanitarian catastrophe, critics argued, was not collateral damage but intentional policy, designed to weaponize suffering as a deterrent.
Central to Trump’s second-term agenda was the executive order targeting birthright citizenship, a radical gambit to redefine American identity through constitutional sabotage. By asserting that the 14th Amendment’s guarantee of citizenship to “all persons born or naturalized in the United States” applied only to children of U.S. citizens or permanent residents, Trump sought to codify a nativist vision of belonging. Legal scholars erupted in condemnation: Harvard’s Laurence Tribe denounced it as “constitutional arson,” while historian Martha S. Jones contextualized it within America’s long history of exclusion, from the Dred Scott decision to the Chinese Exclusion Act. Civil rights groups, led by the ACLU, swiftly filed United States v. Trump, arguing the order defied Wong Kim Ark (1898), the Supreme Court ruling that cemented birthright citizenship. Far-right media, however, celebrated the move as a “final stand against demographic replacement,” amplifying the Great Replacement Theory that had fueled the 2019 El Paso massacre. This order, paired with Trump’s “Restoring Freedom of Speech and Ending Federal Censorship” directive – which neutered federal oversight of social media platforms – created an ecosystem where xenophobic rhetoric flourished unimpeded, framing dissent as “censorship” and authoritarianism as “patriotic pragmatism.”
The interplay of these executive actions revealed a calculated strategy: leveraging bureaucratic reforms to centralize authority while stoking cultural divisions to galvanize Trump’s base. The “weaponization” order, ostensibly about depoliticizing agencies, instead redirected federal resources toward immigration enforcement and away from climate or civil rights initiatives. Similarly, the “free speech” order, marketed as protecting conservative voices, empowered right-wing disinformation campaigns that portrayed asylum seekers as “invaders.” This dual approach – institutional capture paired with ideological radicalization – mirrored tactics seen in Orbán’s Hungary and Erdogan’s Turkey, where democracy eroded under the guise of majority rule.
Trump’s second-term playbook, however, faced immediate legal and political blowback. By March 2025, 18 states had joined United States v. Trump, while international bodies like the UN Human Rights Council condemned the border militarization as “state-sanctioned cruelty.” Yet the administration’s reliance on executive orders and emergency declarations insulated much of its agenda from legislative checkmate, exploiting gaps in a Constitution never designed to withstand such brazen strongman tactics. Legal scholar Bruce Ackerman warned that Trump’s “emergency presidency” risked normalizing “a dictatorship of the executive,” a fear compounded by the Supreme Court’s 7–2 conservative majority, which repeatedly declined to intervene.
In this way, Trump’s second term crystallized the paradox of his legacy: a presidency that simultaneously exposed the fragility of American democracy and accelerated its unraveling. The executive orders of January 20, 2025, were strands in a broader authoritarian tapestry, weaving together xenophobia, centralized power, and the erosion of truth. As the ACLU’s David Cole noted, “Trump isn’t just breaking norms – he’s building a new regime from the rubble.” The border camps, the citizenship ban, and the silencing of dissent were not mere policies but prophecies of a post-American age, where the ideals of 1776 succumbed to the politics of fear.
Trump’s February 1, 2025, announcement halting all military aid to Ukraine marked a pivotal rupture in transatlantic relations. Framed as “ending the era of American globalism,” the decision abandoned Kyiv amidst Russia’s renewed offensive in Donbas. Satellite imagery from Maxar Technologies revealed Russian battalions massing near Kharkiv, while EU leaders scrambled to fill the $60 billion void. German Chancellor Olaf Scholz, in an impassioned Bundestag speech, declared, “This is not isolationism – it is betrayal,” invoking the 1948 Berlin Airlift as a contrast to Trump’s transactional ethos.
Donald Trump’s embrace of Hungary’s Viktor Orbán – a relationship crystallized during their pivotal May 13, 2019, White House meeting – signaled a deliberate and enduring pivot toward illiberal governance. At that summit, Trump lauded Orbán’s hardline immigration policies, praising him for “keeping Hungary safe” through draconian border controls and crackdowns on asylum seekers, a blueprint Trump would later replicate in his own “Remain in Mexico” policy. Orbán, in turn, touted his collaboration with the U.S. in “fighting illegal migration and terrorism,” framing their alliance as a shared crusade against globalist threats. The meeting, which also focused on expanding trade, energy partnerships, and weapons sales, laid the groundwork for a strategic alignment that transcended transactional diplomacy. As detailed in a 2019 House Foreign Affairs Committee transcript, the talks aimed to “strengthen the U.S.-Hungary alliance” while advancing a vision of nationalism that prioritized sovereignty over multilateralism – a vision Trump would weaponize in his second term.
By 2025, this partnership had evolved into an ideological blueprint. Orbán’s “Christian Democracy” model – a euphemism for dismantling judicial independence, curtailing press freedom, and codifying anti-LGBTQ+ laws – became a template for Trump’s domestic agenda.
During Hungarian Prime Minister Viktor Orbán’s February 2025 visit to Mar-a-Lago, the two leaders underscored their alignment on nationalist priorities, including stringent border security and skepticism of multilateral institutions. Orbán, a longtime critic of immigration and globalism, praised Trump’s policies as a model for “protecting sovereignty,” echoing his own government’s controversial 2018 “Stop Soros” laws, which criminalized aid to undocumented migrants and targeted civil society groups. While no explicit evidence confirms direct coordination on media suppression during this meeting, Orbán’s domestic record – including Hungary’s consolidation of state-controlled media and erosion of press freedom – mirrored Trump’s rhetoric against “fake news” and his pledges to dismantle perceived federal overreach.
In a March 2025 analysis for The Atlantic, historian Anne Applebaum positioned the alliance between Trump and Hungary’s Viktor Orbán within the context of a wider illiberal movement, contending that it seeks to “replace the rules-based international order with transactional nationalism.” This troubling trend underscores a shift away from traditional American foreign policy which has historically emphasized alliances and the defense of democratic institutions.
As the Trump administration engaged with Orbán, NATO experienced rising tensions. Secretary-General Jens Stoltenberg characterized this period as the alliance’s “most fragile moment since the Cold War.” He highlighted Trump’s renewed insistence that European nations significantly increase their defense spending – a call echoed by leaders like Turkey’s Recep Tayyip Erdoğan and Poland’s Andrzej Duda – intensifying strains on the collective defense framework that has been the cornerstone of Western security since World War II.
Historically, U.S. foreign policy has sought to isolate Russia in the wake of its full-scale invasion of Ukraine. However, Trump’s administration appeared to be embarking on a contrasting trajectory, one that risks sidelining established allies like Ukraine while courting the Kremlin for a peace deal that would grant little voice to the embattled nation. Secretary of State Marco Rubio and National Security Advisor Mike Waltz’s recent discussions with Russian officials to negotiate this deal, without Ukrainian representation, exemplify a concerning departure from U.S. policy norms.
Applebaum elucidates the implications of Trump’s realignment, calling it a “radical” shift that disregards the ongoing threats posed by Russia to Europe. “By pursuing a close relationship with a dictator, Trump is sending a message that undermines the alliances that have defined U.S. foreign policy for decades,” she emphasized in an interview with NPR’s Leila Fadel. This disregard for allied input not only signals a change in American diplomacy but raises profound concerns about global stability and economic relations. “What happens to our trade relationships with Europe and with Asia?” she pondered, underscoring the potential repercussions for U.S. companies that have relied on strong ties with these markets.
Applebaum’s insights, particularly from her Pulitzer Prize-winning book, *Autocracy Inc. The Dictators Who Want to Rule the World*, reinforce the gravity of these developments. She argues that Trump’s alignment with authoritarian figures like Putin has destabilized the careful balance that the U.S. has maintained internationally. “All these things that have governed U.S. behavior and allied behavior all over the world for 80 years, now disappear,” Applebaum asserted, encapsulating the potential unraveling of treaties and norms that have ensured some measure of order in international relations.
The seeming embrace of illiberalism by former President Trump and his allies poses severe challenges to the established world order. It signals a dangerous pivot towards transactional politics, undermining decades of diplomatic work and raising critical questions about the future of alliances and stability in an increasingly complex global landscape.
The 2019 meeting’s focus on migration and nationalism proved prophetic. Orbán’s rhetoric framing refugees as “invaders” – a tactic showcased during his White House visit – resurfaced in Trump’s 2025 border policies, which deployed troops to repel asylum seekers under the guise of a “National Energy Emergency.” Likewise, their discussions on energy cooperation foreshadowed Trump’s second-term gutting of climate regulations, a favor reciprocated when Orbán blocked EU sanctions on U.S. fossil fuel giants. This symbiotic relationship exposed a shared playbook: leveraging xenophobia and resource nationalism to consolidate power.
Critics argue that Trump’s affinity for Orbán reflects more than policy alignment – it reveals a philosophical kinship. Both leaders frame democracy as an impediment to “order,” weaponizing cultural grievances to justify authoritarian overreach. The 2019 House transcript underscores this, noting Orbán’s praise for Trump’s “America First” ethos as a model for “protecting traditional values.” By 2025, that ethos had metastasized into a transnational illiberal movement, with Trump pardoning January 6 rioters as Orbán jailed anti-corruption protesters in Budapest. Their alliance, once dismissed as a diplomatic oddity, now stands as a cornerstone of a post-democratic age – one where strength is measured not in ideals upheld, but in dissent crushed.
Trump’s February 15, 2025, executive order imposing 30% tariffs on Canadian steel and Mexican automobiles reignited the trade wars of his first term, but with a broader ideological agenda. Framed as “economic patriotism,” the tariffs triggered immediate retaliation: Canada halted $12 billion in U.S. dairy imports, while Mexico’s President Claudia Sheinbaum suspended cooperation on extraditing Sinaloa Cartel leaders. The Dow Jones plummeted 1,200 points, erasing $400 billion in market value – a shock surpassing the 2018 tariff turmoil. Nobel economist Paul Krugman, in a New York Times op-ed, likened the policy to “Smoot-Hawley on steroids,” referencing the 1930 act that deepened the Great Depression.
Central to this economic upheaval was Trump’s alliance with Elon Musk, appointed to chair the “Department of Government Efficiency” (DOGE) – a rebranded Office of Management and Budget. Musk’s “AI First” mandate saw 50% of USPS workers replaced by autonomous delivery drones, a move the National Postal Mail Handlers Union called “a corporate coup d’état.” Jane McAlevey, labor scholar and author of A Collective Bargain (2020), warned that Musk’s privatization spree – spanning the FAA’s air traffic control and VA healthcare – echoed the Gilded Age’s robber barons. Meanwhile, Trump’s proposal to eliminate taxes on tips, unveiled at a Las Vegas Culinary Union rally, drew skepticism: Tax Policy Center analysis showed 83% of benefits would flow to households earning over $200,000, exacerbating wealth inequality.
In a chilling echo of his first-term norm-breaking, Trump’s second-term executive orders targeted the regulatory state and judicial process. On January 25, 2025, he revoked the Environmental Justice for All Act, greenlighting oil drilling in Alaska’s Arctic National Wildlife Refuge (ANWR) – a move biologist Sandra Lee of the Wilderness Society called “ecological suicide.” More controversially, he reinstated the federal death penalty, ending a five-year moratorium. Six inmates – all Black or Latino – were executed in February 2025 via untested nitrogen hypoxia, a method the UN condemned as “torture.”
Legal challenges flooded the courts. In “Equal Justice Initiative v. United States”, Bryan Stevenson argued the executions violated the Eighth Amendment’s prohibition of “cruel and unusual punishment,” citing racial bias in sentencing. However, the Supreme Court’s 7–2 conservative majority declined to intervene, with Justice Amy Coney Barrett invoking the “principle of finality.” Harvard Law’s Carol Steiker, a death penalty scholar, noted the rulings marked “the culmination of a 50-year project to insulate capital punishment from constitutional scrutiny,” tracing back to the 1976 Gregg v. Georgia decision.
Trump’s purge of “disloyal” federal employees ignited a constitutional firestorm. By March 2025, 12 U.S. Attorneys and 30 EPA scientists had been dismissed, with White House Press Secretary Karoline Leavitt citing “the president’s absolute right to command his bureaucracy.” The “NAACP v. Trump” lawsuit alleged targeted removals of officials investigating voter suppression in Georgia and Texas, while “Congress v. Executive” challenged Trump’s freeze on $3 billion in foreign aid, including climate funds pledged to poorer countries at COP28.
Legal scholars sounded alarms. Yale’s Bruce Ackerman warned that Trump’s invocation of the “unitary executive theory” – asserting unchecked presidential control over the executive branch – threatened to “reduce Congress to a advisory committee.” Conversely, Federalist Society co-chair Leonard Leo praised the moves as “restoring constitutional order,” citing Andrew Jackson’s 1833 removal of Treasury Secretary William Duane. The cases, destined for the Supreme Court, risked entrenching an imperial presidency, with historian Jon Meacham cautioning in TIME that “the Founders’ checks and balances are being checked into oblivion.”
Donald Trump’s presidency – spanning the norm-shattering chaos of his first term and the authoritarian audacity of his second – has functioned as a political autopsy of the American experiment. From his inaugural abandonment of global leadership, withdrawing from the Paris Accord and Iran Deal, to his draconian immigration policies that weaponized trauma as a deterrent, Trump’s first term laid the groundwork for democratic erosion. The tax cuts that swelled corporate coffers while hollowing out social safety nets, coupled with deregulation that prioritized profit over planetary survival, calcified inequality into policy. These were not mere missteps but calculated strikes at the pillars of postwar liberalism: multilateralism, equity, and institutional trust.
The second term’s opening salvos – pardoning January 6 insurrectionists, gutting birthright citizenship, and replacing governance with loyalty purges – have deepened these fissures and cemented them as doctrine. By framing the Capitol attack as a “patriotic protest” and recasting citizenship as a privilege rather than a right, Trump has enshrined a vision of America where belonging is contingent on ideological fealty. His 46-day blitz of executive orders, from dismantling environmental protections to resurrecting the federal death penalty, reveals a playbook borrowed from Orbán and Putin: neuter the judiciary, co-opt the bureaucracy, and rewrite history through “patriotic education.” The international fallout is equally dire: NATO unravels as Ukraine is abandoned, while alliances with autocrats like Mohammed bin Salman signal a moral abdication from the democratic project.
This is not disruption; it is demolition. Trump’s genius lies in his ability to frame institutional vandalism as populist triumph, transforming the presidency into a vehicle for personal vengeance and minority rule. The “America First” slogan, once a dog whistle for nativism, now heralds a post-American age – a world where U.S. retreat empowers authoritarianism and climate collapse accelerates unchecked. The polarized nation he leaves in his wake is no accident but a design, a fractured populace easier to manipulate and harder to unite.
Yet the tragedy is not Trump alone, but the complicity of a system that normalized his excesses. The Supreme Court’s deference to unitary executive theory, the GOP’s cult-like loyalty, and the media’s addiction to spectacle have all conspired to legitimize the illegitimizable. Historian Heather Cox Richardson’s warning resonates: “Democracy requires a collective commitment to truth, and Trump’s America has traded truth for tribalism.” The coffin of the American age is not nailed by one man but by the millions who mistook his strongman theatrics for strength and his nihilism for renewal.
Donald Trump’s First term presidency irrevocably altered America’s political and social fabric. His assault on democratic norms, embrace of divisive rhetoric, and transactional governance weakened institutional safeguards and deepened polarization. While his economic policies delivered short-term gains, they exacerbated inequality and environmental degradation. Globally, “America First” redefined U.S. leadership as unpredictable and self-interested, emboldening adversaries and straining alliances.
The long-term impact remains uncertain. The Capitol riot and ongoing election denialism illustrate the durability of Trumpism, while grassroots movements like BLM and climate activism signal a counter-mobilization. Historian Anne Applebaum (“Twilight of Democracy”, 2020) cautions that democracies can collapse incrementally, eroded by lies and tribalism. Ultimately, Trump’s legacy is a nation grappling with its identity – a battleground between pluralism and exclusion, truth and myth, democracy and authoritarianism. Whether America’s institutions can recover may determine not just its future, but that of liberal democracy itself.
Trump’s second term represents both continuity and escalation. His first term destabilized norms; his second seeks to codify Trumpism into law. The 46-day sprint – from border militarization to judicial brinkmanship – reveals a blueprint for authoritarianism: centralize power, silence dissent, and redefine citizenship. Yet resistance persists. Protesters flock to #ReclaimDemocracy rallies, while blue states sue over birthright citizenship and tariffs.
Donald Trump’s presidency, a jagged arc spanning two terms, has rendered the United States unrecognizable – a nation once hailed as democracy’s guardian now reduced to a cautionary tale of authoritarian capture. The erosion was neither sudden nor solitary; it was the culmination of a thousand cuts to the body politic. From the ashes of the January 6 insurrection to the militarized borders and loyalty purges of his second term, Trumpism has methodically dismantled the pillars of pluralism, replacing them with a cult of personality fortified by fear and falsehoods. The “America First” mantra, once a slogan, has become a epitaph for a republic that prioritized power over principle, nationalism over justice, and vengeance over virtue. Historian Timothy Snyder’s warning that “democracy must be defended every day” now reads like a eulogy for a nation that chose, day after day, to abandon its founding creed. The autopsy reveals the cause of death: a terminal addiction to strongman politics, administered by a figure who treated the Constitution as a rival to be vanquished, not a covenant to uphold.
The institutional decay accelerated in Trump’s second term is not merely political – it is existential. By dismantling birthright citizenship, he severed the 14th Amendment’s promise of equality, reducing American identity to a revocable privilege granted by the state. By aligning with Orbán and bin Salman, he recast the U.S. as a patron of autocracy, spurning the postwar order it once built. The judiciary, once a check on tyranny, now legitimizes his excesses, from the death penalty’s racialized revival to the unitary executive’s unchecked reach. Even the marketplace of ideas, enshrined in the First Amendment, lies in ruins, gutted by a media ecosystem where truth is tribal and dissent is treason. Anne Applebaum’s “Twilight of Democracy” no longer looms on the horizon – it has descended, cloaking the nation in a darkness where the rule of law is supplanted by the law of rulers. America, as a democratic experiment, has flatlined.
Yet the tragedy is not that democracy died, but that it was willingly surrendered. Trump’s base, radicalized by grievance and galvanized by myth, traded civic responsibility for conspiratorial euphoria, mistaking cruelty for strength and exclusion for renewal. The “golden age” he promised – a dystopia of privatised public service, militarized borders, and sanitized history – is not a rebirth but a requiem. The immigrants scapegoated, the protesters brutalized, and the truth-tellers silenced are symptoms of a nation that no longer believes in itself. Ibram X. Kendi’s admonition that “denial is the heartbeat of racism” now pulses through the body politic, sustaining a regime that thrives on denial – of climate crisis, of systemic oppression, of its own illegitimacy. The 2025 Congressional address, with its heckled dystopian vision, was less a speech than a séance, summoning the ghosts of Weimar complacency and Roman decadence.
What remains is not a nation but a necropolis – a hollowed-out carcass where institutions are relics and citizenship is conditional. The global fallout is already evident: NATO fractured, Ukraine abandoned, and the Paris Accord’s ashes scattered. America’s abdication has birthed a multipolar world where dictators dine at Mar-a-Lago and democracies cower. Greta Thunberg’s indictment of Trump as an “eco-terrorist” will echo through centuries, as rising seas and scorched skies exact vengeance for his deregulatory rampage. The “patriotic education” mandates, erasing slavery and sanitizing conquest, ensure future generations inherit not wisdom, but amnesia. This is the paradox of Trump’s legacy: a nation so obsessed with “greatness” it cannibalized its soul to feign immortality.
The question now is not whether America died, but whether it can resurrect. The 2024 election, marred by voter suppression and “Big Lie” rhetoric, was democracy’s last gasp. By 2028, the U.S. may exist as a geographic entity, but its democratic essence – the peaceful transfer of power, the free press, the impartial courts – will be artifacts of a bygone era. Trump’s second term is less a presidency than a autopsy, revealing the fatal rot beneath the red, white, and blue veneer. The world watches in horror as the “shining city on a hill” dims to a cautionary flicker, its beacon extinguished not by invasion or collapse, but by the slow, willing suicide of a people who forgot that democracy, like life, cannot thrive without oxygen, accountability, and light. In Trump’s America, the nation did not die with a bang, but a whimper – a whimper that began on January 6, 2021, and crescendoed into the death rattle of a dream.
Can institutions withstand four more years? As Trump vows a “golden age,” his vision hinges on dismantling the very checks that preserve democracy. America now stands at a precipice – its future balancing between pluralism and autocracy, truth and myth, survival and collapse.
The question now is not whether the American age has ended – it has – but what will emerge from its ashes. Trump’s second term offers a grim preview: a bifurcated nation where democracy survives as a relic in blue enclaves while red America descends into illiberalism. The world watches, not with envy but pity, as the “shining city” dims into a cautionary tale. To resurrect democracy would require a reckoning this polarized polity seems incapable of – a truth and reconciliation project spanning generations. Until then, the American age lies in its coffin, its epitaph etched not by foreign adversaries but by the hands of those who swore to defend it.
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AGBEZE IREKE KALU ONUMA can be reached via iagbeze@msn.com
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