In this episode of Democracy Works from The McCourtney Institute for Democracy, the team discusses democracy’s many doomsayers and how to heed their warnings for the future without falling into despair.
Podcast: On democracy's doomsayers


In this episode of Democracy Works from The McCourtney Institute for Democracy, the team discusses democracy’s many doomsayers and how to heed their warnings for the future without falling into despair.

An opinion essay traces America's cycle of welcoming immigrants and communities of color for labor, then excluding them once they gain power.
The politics of exclusion is the deliberate use of power to push certain communities out of the American story through fear, cruelty, erasure, and unequal treatment. It is what happens when leaders abandon constitutional ideals and replace them with grievance, retaliation, and division.
The late John McCain warned that we weaken our greatness when we confuse patriotism with tribalism. Liz Cheney cautioned that no one should support a leader who uses fear and division to hold onto power. Adam Kinzinger called it authoritarianism. Mitt Romney said plainly, “He has caused fear and division.” Alexandria Ocasio-Cortez observed that “the cruelty is the point,” and the late John Lewis reminded us that “democracy is not a state; it is an act.” Together, these voices describe the elephant in the room. America is confronting a pattern bigger than corruption and bigger than authoritarian drift. It is the social, racial, and moral dimension of democratic erosion — lying, cheating, cruelty, intimidation, erasure, and exclusion masquerading as patriotism.
America has always lived under two sets of rules: the stated rules and the unstated rules. The stated rules are written in the Constitution — equality, liberty, justice, representation, and the promise that every person belongs. But people of color have always lived under a second set of rules: belonging is conditional, progress can trigger punishment, success can provoke resentment, safety is not guaranteed, and history can be erased when it becomes inconvenient. Now a third set of rules is emerging — the authoritarian rules. Divide people so they cannot unite. Erase history so children cannot learn. Intimidate communities so they cannot rise. Rewrite truth so no one can hold leaders accountable. These rules depend on fear, confusion, erasure, and the belief that some Americans are more American than others.
Trump has demonstrated these authoritarian rules repeatedly. Investigations report that he has used executive power to exclude immigrants, restrict who can enter the country, and expand enforcement in ways that disproportionately harm people of color. Analysts note that he frames certain immigrants as threats while welcoming others who serve his political or financial interests. This selective acceptance is a hallmark of authoritarian systems. Even members of his own party showed visible discomfort. When the late Senator Lindsey Graham defended the president’s falsehoods or cruelty, his body language told a different story — the hesitation in his eyes, the tension in his shoulders, the way he swallowed before speaking. Many say it looked as if he had surrendered his integrity to something he could not name.
Recent reports continue to document harsh treatment of immigrants in detention, including allegations of abuse, inadequate medical care, and prolonged confinement. Civil rights groups note that oversight remains inconsistent and many complaints still go unresolved. History shows that similar abuses occurred during slavery, where dehumanization was used as a tool of control. The tactics repeat: degrade, intimidate, silence, erase.
Sometimes history shapes behavior, and sometimes it shapes harm. Reports show that Donald Trump’s father, Fred Trump, was arrested at a 1927 KKK‑related event in Queens, and that the family’s housing practices later faced federal scrutiny for refusing to rent to Black tenants. Whether or not these events explain Donald Trump’s behavior toward people of color, they form part of a documented pattern — one that many communities recognize immediately. People like Trump do not want history known. He comes from a family of immigrants, yet works to erase the histories of others. They water down textbooks, restrict curriculum, and silence teachers because they do not want children to learn the truth — that America has a long record of using immigrant labor to build the nation and then pushing those same communities out once they begin to thrive.
History makes the pattern impossible to ignore. Chinese immigrants built the Transcontinental Railroad and were later barred by the Chinese Exclusion Act. Mexican laborers were brought into the United States to meet agricultural and industrial demand, only to be ousted when their labor was no longer politically convenient. The cycle repeated with the Immigration Act of 1924, which sharply restricted immigration from non‑European countries. Haitian families helped revitalize cities after natural disasters, only to see their federal Temporary Protected Status abruptly ended. The pattern is always the same: when the nation needs labor, it brings immigrants in. When those immigrants begin to succeed, build communities, and gain stability, they are pushed out. Demand creates welcome; progress triggers rejection. Immigrants strengthen the country, and when they begin to do well, they are ousted. This is the politics of exclusion.
The consequences fall hardest on people of color and immigrants. Many Black Americans say they are not asking for special treatment; they are asking for a fair chance. They have always been among America’s hardest workers, building the country in ways often overlooked. Yet many now feel pushed out, erased, or caught in the middle of political battles they did not create. A Black man in Georgia told me, “No matter how much Trump tries to destroy us and turn us against each other, America remains the shiny city on the hill. We love our neighbors no matter what shade or creed. We all belong here.” A Black woman in Florida shared, “My forefathers were still slaves when the Declaration of Independence was signed, but my ancestors fought that I might be free. They cannot erase my history.” A Native American man said, “They try to push us out, but we were here first.” A Latina woman said she no longer felt part of the country — not because of her own choices, but because of the president’s words and ICE’s actions.
Across generations, people of color are a foundational part of America’s history. They built this country, defended it, fed it, taught it, healed it, and sustained it. They must remember their contributions and their worth. They must not allow anyone — not even a president who does not understand the value of diversity — to make them feel lesser. Healing the divide begins with truth and courage. Empathy is the first step. People must listen to one another’s lived experiences across racial lines. Storytelling breaks stereotypes and restores belonging. The country must confront systemic racism directly. Racism is embedded in education, housing, employment, and policing. Removing overtly racist laws is not enough. We must strengthen civil rights protections, expand economic opportunity, and ensure equal access to justice.
Communities need safe spaces to talk — schools, workplaces, churches, and civic groups where people can discuss race, privilege, and bias without fear. Grassroots engagement is essential. Cross‑cultural mentorship programs, joint civic projects, interfaith councils, and neighborhood coalitions build trust and shared purpose. Institutions must be held accountable. Independent oversight bodies can ensure policies serve the public interest, not political convenience. Education must tell the truth. Curricula should reflect diverse histories and perspectives. Representation matters in government, media, business, and community leadership. Economic inequality must be addressed. Investment in underserved communities, fair wages, and access to quality education reduce resentment and build shared prosperity. And finally, the people must use the most powerful tool they have — the vote. Guardrails exist — oversight, accountability, and when necessary, impeachment — but none of them work unless the people insist on them.
America’s story is not defined by cruelty, division, or exclusion. It is defined by the people who refuse to let those forces win. The people who rise. The people who remember. The people who stand. Democracy survives when we show up — and we must show up now.
Carolyn Goode is a retired educational leader and technical writer whose work centers on civic responsibility and democratic engagement.

U.S. President Donald Trump welcomes Canadian Prime Minister Mark Carney to the White House on Oct. 7, 2025 in Washington, D.C.
This summer, America played host to one of the biggest international events on the planet, the World Cup, drawing millions of foreigners to our cities and towns, our stadiums and our national parks, where many of them had never been before.
The consensus was, America is awesome — visitors from Bolivia, Scotland, Uzbekistan, and everywhere in between marveled at the sheer size of our great nation, the diversity of our topography, the deliciousness of our foodstuffs, and, perhaps most importantly, the kindness of our people. (Not to mention, our eighth wonder of the world — Buc-ee’s.)
What a difference a month makes.
Despite our friends in far-flung places singing our praises, now, to hear our closest neighbors tell it, America is nothing but a “ bully” and a “ thug.”
After trade negotiations with Canada collapsed this week, and President Trump announced a whopping 50% tariffs on $20 billion worth of Canadian goods — including Canadian whiskey and hockey sticks — it’s no surprise our friends to the north are less than pleased with their downstairs neighbors.
In our defense, not all of us are responsible for electing the bully and thug in question — and if polls are any indication, most Americans agree with Canada that Trump is doing a terrible job. But still, it’s hard to hear.
Especially since we love Canadians, and we very much want them to love us back.
But after spending years threatening to invade Canada and make it the “51st state,” and mocking its leaders with petty nicknames and school yard insults, Trump may have finally put Canadians’ famous politeness to the test.
“You’re at war when you’re attacked, and we got attacked,” said Prime Minister Mark Carney. “We’re going to hit back.”
Manitoba Premier Wab Kinew called Trump “erratic,” “irresponsible,” and “a bad person” who was “not to be trusted.”
And Ontario Premier Doug Ford wasn’t nearly as nice, calling Trump the “king of bankruptcies,” and telling him to “Kiss my ass.”
Again, these are our friends talking!
But their righteous indignation is justified — we are in the midst of an unpopular war that we can’t seem to end, our economy is in the toilet, we’re banning books, deporting children with cancer, shooting unarmed protesters, spreading measles, and covering up for one of our most notorious sex offenders. And we have the audacity to attack our nice and normal friends?
But it’s not just an issue of bad manners. Americans have long been accused of that.
It may be an election issue now.
States like Michigan, Maine, Alaska and Ohio, all of which border Canada and are important trade partners, also have another thing in common: highly competitive Senate races.
And despite all but Maine voting for Trump in the last election, Cook Political Report lists all four as a toss-up.
The Canada trade issue is real these voters; for auto workers in Michigan who rely on Canadian aluminum and steel; for 95% of Mainers who rely on Canada for home heating; for Ohioans who use Canadian metals and machinery; for Alaskans who need Canadian crude.
So Democratic Senate candidates like Abdul El-Sayed in Michigan and Mary Peltola in Alaska have yet another important talking point to add to their reservoirs — that Trump’s dumb trade war, much like his dumb actual war, is going to make voters’ lives worse.
Add it to the pile — a majority of voters already believe they are worse off under Trump, and this won’t help.
With fewer than 70 days until the midterm elections, the imprudence of picking a fight with important allies — who now seem prepared to unleash retaliatory economic pain on Americans in competitive states hardly seems debatable.
But Trump seems hell bent on totally destroying whatever good will we still had left on the world stage.
Talk about an own goal.
S.E. Cupp is the host of "S.E. Cupp Unfiltered" on CNN.

U.S. Marines wait for the arrival of U.S. President Donald Trump before a Freedom 250 Grand Prix showcase on West Executive Avenue between the West Wing of the White House and the Eisenhower Executive Office Building on July 13, 2026 in Washington, DC.
After Senator Lindsey Graham died in office, South Carolina’s governor appointed his sister, Darline Graham, to serve out the remainder of his term. Just over a month later, campaigning for a full term of her own, when asked at a debate whether Taiwan and the South China Sea are national security issues for the United States, she said she was “not that informed on national security.” The President has endorsed her candidacy. Call me old-fashioned, but I want a Congress that is informed on national security. The founding fathers seemed to agree: Article I, Section 8 of the Constitution hands Congress the power to declare war, “raise and support Armies,” “provide and maintain a Navy,” and “make Rules for the Government and Regulation of the land and naval Forces.” That’s the job description, and I want a president who doesn’t endorse someone for that job who can’t handle that responsibility.
Our Commander-in-Chief and Secretary of Defense have turned away from Taiwan and the South China Sea. When I was a Navy pilot, the spoken and unspoken adversary of our future was China. I don’t mean to make a judgment about whether that was the right call, but just to say that in my 14 years affiliated with the Navy, of every potential adversary we discussed, China was always the most formidable. As I trained to be a mission commander, most of the simulations I flew and the scenarios I hashed out on oral boards revolved around the South China Sea. That’s the fight we trained to fight. Then, a few months after I separated from the Navy, Secretary Hegseth announced our priorities were shifting away from the Pacific to “restore U.S. military dominance in the Western Hemisphere.” That didn’t stop us from starting a war with Iran we can’t seem to get out of, but the promise to take focus away from the Pacific does seem to have held.
The Navy’s footprint in the Pacific keeps shrinking. Just this week, the USS George Washington was sent to 5th Fleet, leaving 7th Fleet, our forward-deployed presence in the Pacific, without an aircraft carrier there at all. Just last month, the USS Benfold, a destroyer, went four days without power in the South China Sea, and the Navy didn’t confirm it publicly until three weeks later (and only after a trade outlet found out on its own). Putting aside the pattern of the Pentagon withholding information, if we’re going to make ourselves this vulnerable in the region, it would be nice to hear a clearly articulated rationale for why such a long-understood, long-term threat no longer alarms us.
Nearly a decade ago, Xi Jinping told his own party that China had entered a new era in which it would assume “center stage in the world.” Sure enough, China’s dominance in the world has become self-evident. China’s military carries just over 2 million active-duty troops to our 1.35 million, its Navy just passed 370 ships to our 287 (built out of a shipbuilding industry with 230 times our capacity), and its tech sector, a decade behind us not long ago, is now setting the pace in fields we used to dominate. On top of that, ever since the Trump administration gutted USAID, China has been handed an opportunity to fill the vacuum with soft power. That’s to say nothing of their impressive infrastructure and overall economy. In fact, as part of Beijing’s Belt and Road Initiative, a 35,000-ton container vessel just left the Chinese port Ningbo on Friday for an Arctic shipping route in what may mark a new era for global trade. But while I would be happy to live in harmony and cheer on whichever country wins the great power competition, since when–and why–did our government stop caring about ceding power and influence to China?
Back in 2021, Admiral Philip Davidson told the Senate that China could move on Taiwan within six years. His successor, Admiral Charles Richard, predicted reunification “by 2027 if not sooner.” Presidents of both parties said out loud that the United States would defend Taiwan if China invaded. Whatever you thought of that policy, at least it was one.
Trump doesn’t have a policy. He seems to think he and Xi are buddies. I don’t buy it. After the Busan summit, Trump came home bragging he’d rate the meeting a “12 out of 10.” Scholars watching the exchange called Trump “extremely deferential to Xi Jinping.” I’ll say. He told Xi, on camera, “You’re a great leader. I say it to everybody, you’re a great leader.” He also said Taiwan “never came up.” Then he explained he didn’t need to raise the issue because Xi Jinping’s people “know the consequences.”
Our Pacific allies have reason for concern. Days ago, Trump ordered the Pentagon to scale back joint exercises with our ally South Korea to punish them for not providing more support in the war against Iran. This is after North Korea just resumed ballistic missile testing activities in defiance of U.N. bans. Ulchi Freedom Shield, an eleven-day, 18,000-troop exercise with South Korea, was an annual tradition our country called an “ironclad commitment” to “defend their homelands.” When this is how we honor ironclad commitments, Taiwan may rightfully feel it needs to prepare for the worst without our help. Taipei just wrapped ten days of Han Kuang drills, exercises built specifically to counter China’s gray-zone tactics short of open war. These drills include anti-blockade naval maneuvers, mock internet blackouts, and civilians rehearsing air-raid shelters, and were followed with a proposed 18% jump in defense spending for 2027.
Trump should maybe be less trusting of China, which has been supplying weapons to Iran. Indeed, Reuters reported that Iran is soon expected to receive up to 400 Chinese-made shoulder-fired missile systems, worth as much as $70 million. When asked about it, Trump said he’d be “quite disappointed” if it turned out to be true, because Xi had personally told him China wouldn’t do it. When told the shipment was expected within weeks, Trump’s response was, “well, that would be surprising.” Is Trump getting duped and he’s in denial? Or does he know something we don’t and is trying to hide it? Either would be a problem.
I am not suggesting we go looking for a conflict with China, but I am saying we are currently making ourselves and our allies vulnerable, and I am not confident our leadership understands the consequences of that. If we keep softening our posture toward Beijing instead of deliberately cultivating trust and defense integration with Japan, the Philippines, and South Korea, we shouldn’t be shocked when Taipei–and Tokyo, Seoul, and Manila–stop wanting to work with us on anything at all. Certainly, if we let China take Taiwan, it will cost us. Any ally who ever bet on American credibility will think twice about doing so again. Beijing may not be looking for a war, but it probably wouldn’t mind a world that has stopped looking to the United States to prevent one.
It’s hard for allies to count on a country that forgoes decades of national security and diplomatic strategy for a foreign policy that runs on a president’s whims and fluctuates with his mood. It’s hard for American citizens to count on a government that does that, too. We deserve leaders who are competent, consistent, and concerned with our best interests–and who care enough about national security to answer a simple question about the South China Sea. We deserve a president who wants a Congress capable of meeting that challenge, and a president who can meet that challenge himself. Let’s challenge ourselves to hold our leaders to that standard–during elections and once they’re in office.
Julie Roland was a Naval Officer for ten years, deploying to both the South China Sea and the Persian Gulf as a helicopter pilot before separating in June 2025 as a Lieutenant Commander. She has a law degree from the University of San Diego, a Master of Laws from Columbia University, and is a member of the Truman National Security Project.

U.S. President Donald Trump speaks during a visit to the Fort Bragg U.S. Army base on February 13, 2026 in Fort Bragg, North Carolina.
How a country treats its allies and its adversaries says everything about what it believes strength means — a question that was already on my mind the night I sat in a movie theater watching "The Brink of War" when news broke.
The film reconstructs the 1986 Reykjavik summit, where President Ronald Reagan and General Secretary of the Communist Party of the Soviet Union Mikhail Gorbachev spent a tense weekend negotiating over the fate of the world's nuclear arsenals.
The movie is a portrait of an American president who believed peace was earned through strength and credibility because he understood that American reliability was the asset that guaranteed every other negotiation possible.
I checked my phone on the way out and read that President Trump had just ordered the Pentagon to "substantially reduce" the joint military exercises the United States runs each year with South Korea — hours before those drills were set to begin.
Trump’s stated reasons: the cost and Seoul's refusal to help with actions against Iran. He also took the opportunity to note his "very good relationship" with Kim Jong Un, the leader of a nuclear-armed regime still technically at war with the ally whose defense drills he'd just gutted.
The contrast was hard to shake.
Reagan's version of "peace through strength" is often reduced to a slogan. It wasn't. At Reykjavik, he was willing to walk away from a historic deal rather than trade away missile defense, because he believed a president's word — to allies and adversaries alike — had to mean the same thing on a good day as on a bad one.
In the two weeks before Trump gutted the drills meant to deter it, North Korea tested ballistic missiles at least twice — its ninth and tenth launches of the year, part of a pace that includes Kim Jong Un ordering a two-and-a-half-fold increase in missile production back in June.
Pyongyang has said openly that the tests are a protest against the joint exercises, which it calls an invasion rehearsal. The sequence isn't ambiguous: North Korea escalates, and the American response is to scale back the training designed to counter it.
That wasn't a response to reduced danger. It was a response to something else entirely — cost, grievance, a president's stated fondness for a dictator personally.
Kim Jong Un isn't managing a regional standoff on the Korean Peninsula anymore. He's a partner in two wars that are actively threatening American interests. That's who the administration just called "unthreatening and respectful."
Mark Montgomery, a retired Navy rear admiral now at the Foundation for Defense of Democracies, has named the pattern directly: "President Trump does not seem to understand that North Korea is part of the 'bad guys' team – a member of the ‘Axis of Aggressors’ alongside Russia, Iran, and China.”
Montgomery went on to say, "Kim Jong Un has backed Putin's illegal war against Ukraine with ammunition, troops, and missiles." And the danger isn't confined to a European battlefield: "North Korea threatens key American allies and trade partners — South Korea and Japan — daily. Kim Jong Un is not America's friend; he cannot be reasoned with, and he won't give up his nuclear weapons."
Pyongyang has sent an estimated 11,000-plus troops to fight for Russia against Ukraine, supplies roughly half of Russia's artillery ammunition, and has shipped ballistic missiles Moscow now fires into Ukrainian cities.
It has spent decades as Iran's missile supplier — the technical lineage of Iran's Shahab and Khorramshahr missiles traces straight back to North Korean designs — and analysts expect that cooperation to deepen now that Iran needs to rebuild what the 2026 war destroyed.
Deterrence is thinning at the same time. The USS George Washington, the Navy's only forward-deployed carrier and until recently on station near the South China Sea, has pulled out of the Indo-Pacific to cover a Middle East gap, leaving the region without a home-based American carrier for the foreseeable future.
Montgomery has also flagged what that gap means in practice: a carrier permanently based in the Indo-Pacific cuts response time to a regional threat by more than two weeks compared to one that must sail in from elsewhere. That's exactly the kind of gap a rival power plans around.
When a president alienates a treaty ally over a war that the ally never signed onto, while publicly courting the goodwill of a regime that is simultaneously arming Russia and rebuilding Iran's missile program — the message isn't fiscal discipline. It's that American commitments are conditional, revocable, and personal to whoever happens to be in the Oval Office.
Reagan walked away from Gorbachev to protect American credibility. This administration is giving away its trustworthiness— to Kim Jong Un, for free.
Lynn Schmidt is a columnist and Editorial Board member with the St. Louis Post-Dispatch. She holds a master's of science in political science as well as a bachelor's of science in nursing.