With politics as polarized and divisive as ever and the holiday season approaching, many of us will have difficult interactions with problematic family members. Does calling out your problematic family members benefit you or our political climate? Or does it do the opposite -- worsening familial relationships and political climate?
Site Navigation
Search
Latest Stories
Join a growing community committed to civic renewal.
Subscribe to The Fulcrum and be part of the conversation.
Top Stories
Latest news
Read More
A student’s firsthand account reveals how AI detection tools are creating fear, false accusations, and self-censorship in schools. This piece explores flawed AI checkers, unclear education policies, and the growing divide in AI literacy between private and public schools.
Getty Images, Maskot
My School Is So Worried I Will Cheat With AI It Isn’t Teaching
May 05, 2026
I put my 100% original paper into an AI checker, only to receive a stunning 38% AI review. My heart raced, but my brain reasoned that I had not used AI at all on this assignment. But how would I prove that? I quickly began swapping words for less intelligent synonyms to make the writing sound less “academic.” After getting the percentage down to 19, I stopped. I was stripping away the quality of my writing to ensure I did not trigger AI detectors, when I hadn’t even done anything wrong on the assignment.
The rule at my school—Riverdale Country School, one of the most prestigious private schools in New York State—has been made clear by the dean. He said: “If we catch you using artificial intelligence to enhance your writing, you will immediately be sent to the judicial committee.” If he wanted to terrify the student body, it worked.
The culture of fear around AI was forcing me to lower my performance because at so many schools, AI is conceived of as only a tool for cheating, not one for learning. That’s a backwards way to approach technology poised to change our lives.
Especially at Riverdale, we have the resources, technology, and qualified teachers to teach students about AI. Yet the school still largely avoids discussing AI, out of fear that students will use it to cheat.
The result is what I did: most students run work—products of their own labor and intelligence—through AI checkers, fearing the threatened consequences for anyone suspected of using it, even when they did all the work. It’s a perverse form of thought policing that is thwarting education.
And my situation is far from unique. Across the country, students report self-censoring their own vocabulary, avoiding sophisticated sentence structures, and deliberately writing below their ability level—not to cheat, but to avoid being accused of it. A tool that was supposed to catch dishonesty is instead punishing students for writing too well.
The chilling effect extends beyond individual assignments. Many students now avoid using AI for any purpose—including entirely legitimate ones, like asking it to explain a confusing math concept or brainstorm ideas before writing a first draft—because the line between "cheating" and "learning" has never been clearly drawn by their schools. Without guidance, students default to avoidance. They're left to navigate a powerful technology entirely on their own, with no framework for using it responsibly.
Teachers, too, are caught in the crossfire. Some educators who want to thoughtfully incorporate AI into their classrooms have been quietly discouraged by administrators who are worried about setting a permissive precedent. A history teacher who asks students to critically evaluate an AI-generated essay, or a science teacher who has students use AI to model data, risks being seen as enabling cheating rather than modeling responsible use. The institutional fear doesn't just silence students—it silences the adults who might otherwise be their guides.
Some schools get it. For $65,000 in annual tuition, New York’s Alpha School offers an educational model built entirely around AI. Alpha opened last September, and its students use personalized AI tutors to complete all their academics in a two-hour block during the morning. The program reports that its students “grow academically more than twice as fast as the national average.”
Some more traditional schools are easing into AI. Phillips Exeter Academy, a private boarding school in New Hampshire, hosts alumni panels on the benefits and risks of AI. Additionally, they offer their faculty a course on AI literacy.
Meanwhile, kids at public schools spend six hours a day in traditional classrooms that block access to the same AI-powered tools that kids at private schools like Alpha and Exeter capitalize on to strengthen their learning. School districts in New York City and Los Angeles initially blocked AI on school networks out of concern for cheating and safety. Some districts have reversed these bans, but confusion still reigns.
A study done by EdWeek Research Center reports that, as of February 2024, 79% of public school educators say their districts don’t have clear policies on AI, leaving their schools in a gray area on AI use. Despite these inconsistencies, one rule is clear and consistent: one in five educators have districts that prohibit its students from using generative AI, like ChatGPT.
The message to students stands: AI is something to avoid, not something to understand or master, in a world where doing so has become a critical skill for collegiate and career success.
The growing gap between private schools offering AI integration and public schools struggling to adapt threatens to widen the gap that our education system should be working to fix.
This gap is a vestige of longstanding inequities in teaching students about technology. Nationwide, 60% of public high schools offered computer science classes during the 2024-25 school year, with only 6.1% of students enrolling in these classes. This gap only deepens racially, as just 34% of schools serving predominantly Black, Indigenous, Latino, and Pacific Islander students offered computer science courses compared to 52% of schools serving mostly white and Asian students as of 2021. If schools lack basic computer science education, they do not stand a chance of encouraging AI literacy.
Meanwhile, students at schools like Exeter and Alpha use AI daily. This divide is not just about AI; it's about which students will be equipped to handle the heightening demands of a workforce shaped around AI literacy, rapidly becoming an essential career skill, as necessary as critical thinking or leadership. Doctors use AI for diagnoses, lawyers for legal research, and teachers to create lesson plans.
Meanwhile, students who were taught to fear AI or never got the chance to learn about it will enter college and the workforce already behind, lacking skills that employers increasingly expect as a baseline.
Some argue that AI is constantly evolving, so quickly that it cannot be properly taught before it changes again. That’s possible but lessons should go beyond phrasing of prompts or the ethics of deep fake videos; the point of embracing AI is to teach students how to adapt to advances in the technology, just as educators agree that teaching history is essential (even though it is constantly developing) because it still teaches critical thinking and context awareness. The same goes for AI.
AI offers more than a chance at deception and corner-cutting, but too many schools aren’t acknowledging that. It’s a shame I had to learn that lesson on my own as I fretted about a possible false allegation of cheating on a paper and dumbed down my own work to avoid it.
Surya Das is a sophomore at Riverdale Country Day School in New York City with a passion for computer science.
Keep ReadingShow less
Recommended
As civic knowledge declines and “civic deserts” grow, a renewed focus on “civic parenting” is needed to prepare the next generation for democracy.
Getty Images, Letizia Le Fur
At 250, America Needs Civic Parenting, Not Just Civics Classes
May 05, 2026
From the founding, Americans understood that a republic depends on the character and judgment of its citizens. In the years after the Revolution, that insight took shape in what later came to be called “republican motherhood,” the belief that the success of the new nation required raising children with the virtue, knowledge, and discipline necessary for citizenship. The concept reflected the limits of its time, assigning that responsibility narrowly to mothers. But it also captured a deeper truth. Constitutions do not sustain themselves. Self-government endures only when each generation is prepared to understand, value, and uphold its principles.
For much of our history, preparing young people for citizenship was a shared responsibility. Families, schools, and civic institutions reinforced one another, creating a culture where civic learning was woven into daily life.
Today, that balance has broken down.
We have steadily placed more responsibility on schools to prepare young people for citizenship, even as we have reduced the space devoted to civic learning within them. At the same time, the broader ecosystem that once supported this work has weakened. In some communities, these institutions have disappeared altogether, creating what researchers describe as “civic deserts.” In others, they still exist but are no longer central to daily life. Participation in community organizations, religious institutions, and even cultural spaces like museums and historical sites has declined, leaving fewer shared spaces where people regularly encounter one another, engage across differences, and connect to our civic story.
Research from the Brookings Institution estimates that 60 percent of rural youth and 30 percent of urban and suburban young people now live in areas lacking these traditional civic institutions. Civic learning has steadily diminished in schools, even as expectations for what schools should deliver in preparing citizens have grown. Fewer than one-quarter of eighth graders perform at or above proficiency in civics, and many adults cannot name all three branches of government.
We are asking schools to do more, with less, while the institutions that once reinforced that learning have grown weaker or more distant from everyday life. It is an imbalance we can no longer ignore.
The responsibility once described as republican motherhood now belongs to all of us. Parents, caregivers, and families of every kind share in preparing the next generation for life in a constitutional democracy. This is the work of civic parenting.
Civic parenting is not a formal program. It lives in the ordinary rhythms of daily life. It is the intentional practice of welcoming children into the American story and helping them develop the habits that self-government requires.
When a parent reads a book about the American Revolution with a child, that is civic formation. When a family visits a museum or attends a historical program together, that is civic formation. When a parent asks a child to take responsibility at home, that is civic formation. When a parent encourages a child to explain their thinking or works through disagreement with patience rather than dismissal, that too is civic formation.
These moments may seem small, but they are where the habits of citizenship begin. Listening. Reasoning. Exercising restraint. Engaging across difference. These are not learned in a single civics class. They are developed over time, in families, schools, and communities.
If we want a citizenry capable of self-government, we must rebalance the system.
That means continuing to support teachers and schools, while also recognizing that they cannot carry this responsibility alone. It means rebuilding the connections between classrooms, homes, and communities. It means creating accessible entry points that spark curiosity and invite participation. And it means meeting families where they are, with tools and experiences that make civic learning part of everyday life.
Institutions have a role to play here, not as replacements for families, but as partners. At the National Constitution Center, we are working to support this effort by creating pathways that begin with moments of curiosity and lead to deeper constitutional learning, whether in classrooms, online, or around kitchen tables.
The nation’s 250th anniversary this year is not simply a moment to look back. It is an invitation to decide what we will carry forward. It marks the beginning of a civic decade leading to the Constitution’s 250th anniversary in 2037, a period that calls for reflection, renewal, and recommitment.
It should be the decade we correct this imbalance. A decade that makes civic parenting a cultural expectation, not an afterthought. A decade that restores a founding understanding that families, schools, and civic institutions must work together to prepare each new generation for self-government.
This work is not beyond reach. It requires intention. And it can be meaningful and even joyful. When families are supported in it, the impact is profound. It strengthens the nation by preparing citizens capable of self-government. It helps young people develop judgment, curiosity, and civic confidence. And it deepens connections within families themselves.
The Constitution promises the blessings of liberty to “ourselves and our posterity.” That promise depends on what we choose to pass on.
The civic decade calls us to meet that responsibility together and to make civic parenting not the exception, but the expectation.
Julie Silverbrook is chief content and learning officer at the National Constitution Center and host of the new podcast Civic Parenting.
Keep ReadingShow less
Journalists gather in front of the Connecticut State Capitol Building during a press conference on SB259 and an anti-FGM art installation
Bryna Subherwal, Equality Now
From Colombia to Connecticut: The urgent need to end FGM in the Americas
May 05, 2026
Across the Americas, hundreds of thousands of women and girls are living with or have undergone female genital mutilation (FGM). These affected populations are citizens and residents of countries where protections are incomplete, entirely focused on criminalisation, inconsistently enforced, or entirely absent.
FGM is not a “foreign” issue. It is a human rights violation unfolding within national borders, one that all governments in the Americas have the legal and moral responsibility to address.
Glimmers of progress are beginning to emerge across the region. On April 28, 2026, Connecticut state legislators in the United States passed a bill banning FGM and strengthening protections for survivors within the state, a long-awaited victory for survivors and advocates who have spent years calling for action.
As regional governing mechanisms, like the Inter-American Commission on Human Rights (IACHR), begin to formally recognise FGM as a human rights issue within the Americas, states have more concrete guidance on their obligations to take action to prevent and eradicate this form of violence against women and girls.
Female genital mutilation (FGM), which affects more than 230 million women and girls worldwide, is a grave human rights violation deeply rooted in gender inequality and discrimination. FGM refers to the partial or total removal or other injury to female genital organs for non-medical reasons.
Across the Americas, FGM remains a hidden, poorly documented, and largely ignored practice impacting more than 700,000 women and girls. Although progress has been made throughout the hemisphere to combat various forms of gender-based violence, FGM has remained on the margins of public attention and protection policies.
The occurrence of this harmful practice is formally recognised in the United States, Canada, and Colombia, yet none of these countries has a comprehensive legal framework to address it. While the US and Canada have federal criminal laws, neither country has dedicated prevention or educational provisions. At the state level in the US, while 41 states have enacted specific legislation, these laws vary considerably in their scope and level of comprehensiveness, and nine states still lack any targeted legal protections. In Colombia, despite growing recognition and advocacy, there is currently no national law addressing FGM.
Across Latin America and the Caribbean, where data gaps leave the full extent of the practice almost entirely unmeasured, a persistent myth frames FGM as exclusively an African or Asian phenomenon with no presence in the region. In North America, two parallel misconceptions hinder progress: that FGM is a “global south” problem or that it is confined to specific Indigenous or diaspora communities and therefore does not require a comprehensive national policy response.
These misconceptions contribute to the invisibility of the issue and reinforce the lack of effective measures for its prevention and elimination.
International human rights mechanisms speak up
FGM has long been recognised globally as a severe form of gender-based violence and a violation of women’s and girls’ human rights. Equality Now and its partners have collated evidence of FGM in 94 countries, including the US, Colombia, and Canada. Only 59 of those countries have a specific law prohibiting FGM, and considerable improvement is needed to ensure better access to justice and support for survivors.
Numerous human rights mechanisms, including the Convention on the Elimination of All Forms of Discrimination Against Women (CEDAW), the Convention on the Rights of the Child (CRC), the Istanbul Convention, and the International Covenant on Civil and Political Rights, affirm that states have a legal and moral duty to prohibit FGM, prevent, and provide survivor-centred support services.
In March 2026, the IACHR, the key regional body of the Organization of American States (OAS), charged with protecting human rights across the Americas, became the most recent inter-regional mechanism to formally recognise the presence of FGM in the Americas and called on states to take comprehensive action.
Grounded in states’ obligations under the Belém do Pará Convention and the American Convention on Human Rights, the Commission urged governments to promote dialogue with communities to drive sociocultural change, and to strengthen legal and policy frameworks that ensure early detection, survivor-centered care, and access to services, all grounded in intercultural, gender-responsive approaches and backed by sustained funding.
This landmark acknowledgement followed the first-ever dedicated thematic hearing held by an international human rights mechanism focused on FGM/C in the Americas, just four months prior. The public announcement by the IACHR has the potential to redefine how FGM is understood under regional law, situate the violation within the regional human rights framework, and demand coordinated State action, accountability, and recognition that every woman and girl has the right to live free from this form of gender based violence.
As we approach the end of legislative sessions where pending FGM legislation has been proposed across the Americas, we must acknowledge the narrowing window for governments to act.
The current status of anti-FGM legislation in the Americas
Across the Americas, momentum is mounting to enact anti-FGM legislation.
The latest on anti-FGM legislation in the United States
At least 577,000 women and girls are estimated to be at risk or affected by FGM. Federal law currently prohibits the violation through the STOP FGM Act, though recent proposals such as Congressional Bill H.R. 3492 wrongly conflate FGM with gender-affirming care and risks undermining enforcement of anti-FGM protections for survivors nationally.
These developments have sparked an additional drive toward state-level action to comprehensively protect against the practice. Individual state agencies and officials have far greater capacity than federal authorities to directly assist women and girls in local communities. An interactive map by Equality Now and the U.S. End FGM/C Network shares FGM/C legal provisions and gaps in every US state.
The situation in Connecticut
In a long-awaited landmark vote, Connecticut legislators unanimously passed Senate Bill 259 on April 28, 2026. After years of sustained advocacy by survivors, FGM advocates, civil society organisations, health experts, and legal policy experts, once enacted, Connecticut will be one step closer to aligning its state legislation with international human rights standards.
Previously, legislators and advocates made six unsuccessful attempts to pass a law addressing FGM in the state. Proposed bills in 2018, 2020, and 2021 aimed at prohibiting FGM or studying its prevalence did not progress beyond the committee stage, while in 2019, a bill was rejected by the State Senate. In 2024, a drafted bill failed to be introduced, and in 2025, a bill was never raised to the House floor for a vote during the legislative session.
Senate Bill 259 will finally establish a state-level ban and provide essential protections for thousands of survivors and girls at risk by establishing the crime of female genital mutilation in Connecticut and setting higher safeguards for girls. The bill would also:
- Authorise a civil action within 30 years after the victim reaches age 18;
- Allow testimony outside the courtroom for victims aged 12 or younger;
- Prohibit a victim from being automatically deemed incompetent to testify because of age;
- Waive parent-child immunity in FGM cases, enabling legal representatives to secure necessary parental testimony;
The latest on anti-FGM legislation in Colombia
Legislators have until 20 June 2026 to enact Proyecto de Ley No. 440 de 2025 Senado-018 de 2024 Cámara, a bill that would establish the first specific legal framework against FGM in Latin America.
The bill combines prevention, intercultural education, mandatory health protocols, and data collection obligations, reflecting a comprehensive, survivor-centred, and intersectional approach developed in close collaboration with Indigenous women leaders whose communities are most affected by the practice.
Government health data shows that FGM disproportionately affects Indigenous girls in Colombia. Between 2020 and 2025, 204 cases were documented nationwide, 177 of them involving Indigenous girls, mainly in the departments of Risaralda and Chocó. Experts warn that such figures significantly underestimate the real prevalence due to persistent underreporting of FGM. Without accurate data, assessing the extent of the problem and designing appropriate responses is challenging.
In March 2026, the Senate’s First Commission approved the bill in its third debate, solidifying a significant step forward after years of advocacy. Now, attention turns to the Senate plenary, where the final vote will decide whether it becomes law. For Indigenous women leaders, advocates, and communities who have long called for action, the end of this legislative session will be their defining moment.
The latest on anti-FGM legislation in Canada
The End FGM Canada Network estimates there are more than 100,000 survivors of FGM/C. However, publicly available data estimating the scale of the problem within the country remains scarce.
Under the Canadian Criminal Code section 268(3), any person found guilty of conducting FGM faces up to 14 years imprisonment; however, to date, there have been no criminal prosecutions or convictions for FGM in the country.
A holistic end to FGM
Across the Americas, emerging best practice points to the clear conclusion that a sole focus on the criminalization of FGM is not enough to prevent, eradicate, or adequately protect survivors from harm.
Effective legal frameworks must be holistic in ways that combine prevention, education, community engagement, and survivor-centred support services.
Colombia’s bill offers an instructive model in this regard. Rather than centering criminal punishment, it establishes obligations around prevention, intercultural education, mandatory health protocols, and data collection, recognizing that a practice sustained by social norms and community structures requires responses that work within and alongside those communities, not solely against individuals.
Punitive frameworks, when applied in isolation, risk driving the practice underground, deterring survivors from seeking care, and criminalising communities without addressing the conditions that allow FGM to persist.
However, the effectiveness of even the most robust legal frameworks is ultimately dependent on sustained and dedicated funding. Legal obligations must be matched by investment in frontline training for healthcare providers and educators, in community-led prevention initiatives, and in accessible, survivor-centred services. Without this resourcing, laws risk remaining largely symbolic, unable to deliver meaningful protection in practice.
Crucially, legislation must also be carefully drafted to avoid conflating FGM with distinct medical procedures, including gender-affirming care. Such conflation risks undermining both legal clarity and access to essential health services.
In Colombia and beyond, comprehensive approaches in addition to political commitment toward the adoption of legislation and meaningful implementation will be essential to translate these efforts into sustainable protections for all women and girls within the Americas.
Governments, regional bodies, civil society, and advocates must work together to take collective action to align national laws, ensure public accountability and monitoring, and ensure survivor support. Fragmented approaches, isolated laws, underfunded programs, or short-term political attention will not deliver lasting change. A coordinated response, grounded in shared responsibility and sustained collaboration, can.
Mel Bailey is the Communications Officer at North America and Ending Sexual Violence.
From Colombia to Connecticut: The urgent need to end FGM in the Americas was first published on the Latino News Network and was republished with permission.
Keep ReadingShow less
The nation has reached a divide in the road—a moment when Americans must decide whether to accept a slow weakening of the Republic or insist on the principles that have held it together for more than two centuries
Getty Images
A Republic Under Strain—And a Choice Ahead
May 04, 2026
Americans feel something shifting beneath their feet — quieter than crisis but unmistakably a strain. Many live with a steady sense of uncertainty, conflict, and the emotional weight of issues that seem impossible to escape. They feel unheard, unsafe, or unsure whether the Republic they trust is fading. Friends, relatives, and former colleagues say they’ve tried to look away just to cope, hoping the turmoil will pass. And they ask the same thing: if the framers made the people the primary control on government, how will they help set the Republic back on a steadier path?
Understanding the strain Americans are experiencing is essential, but so is recognizing the choice we still have. Madison’s warning offers the answer the framers left us: when trust erodes and power concentrates, the Constitution turns back to the people—not as a slogan, but as a structural reality.
Americans are not imagining the strain. They are living it—in schools, hospitals, local agencies, and in the daily friction of navigating systems that once worked more reliably.
Across the nation, Americans feel the strain of weakened governance firsthand. Confidence in institutions has eroded—not through collapse, but through drift, a slow weakening of the guardrails that once kept the system in balance. People see the consequences daily: difficulty accessing services, rising costs, and strained agencies. What they sense is the erosion of norms that once anchored the Republic. Republics rarely fall in a single instant; they drift through a gradual loss of trust, a concentration of power, and growing silence from institutions meant to provide accountability.
This is a relevant and urgent topic because people see that the Republic is repairable—if leaders choose to act. What makes this moment painful is the belief that those with the greatest power to reduce strain are the least willing to step forward. Many leaders lived with hardship before entering public service, yet once in office, they appear insulated from struggles they once understood. They no longer face pressures of healthcare costs or financial insecurity—and that distance can erode empathy. People tell me that when leaders forget those realities, they also forget the oath they swore—to govern ethically, fairly, and in the spirit intended.
Much of the strain comes from the perception that the balance of power is shifting. Many believe the checks and balances meant to prevent any one branch from accumulating too much authority are no longer functioning as intended. Congress appears constrained by division and by political incentives that make compromise—once essential to governing—a liability. Experienced lawmakers are choosing not to seek reelection, raising concerns that the current climate discourages independent leadership and rewards conformity.
The nation has reached a divide in the road—a moment when Americans must decide whether to accept a slow weakening of the Republic or insist on the principles that have held it together for more than two centuries. One path leads deeper into drift: erosion of norms, weakened guardrails, and a future shaped by silence rather than accountability. The other demands something harder—a return to constitutional balance, renewed civic engagement, and leadership willing to place the Republic above personal or partisan interest.
This choice is not abstract. It is felt in the exhaustion families carry, the uncertainty communities voice, and the belief that the country is slipping away. The framers expected moments like this. They understood that when institutions strain, the people must decide whether to look away or step forward.
That responsibility begins with leadership. Leaders must do more than advance agendas; they must demonstrate humility, empathy, and a willingness to govern for the whole country. Strength in a Republic is not measured by dominance but by restraint—by the ability to collaborate even amid disagreement.
Yet today, political incentives often punish independence. Breaking with party lines can carry consequences, turning governance from negotiation into alignment. When lawmakers fear the cost of dissent more than silence, the system loses the friction that keeps it balanced.
But responsibility does not rest with leaders alone. Madison reminds us that the primary control on government is the people themselves. Citizens must re‑engage—not through outrage but through purpose. Balancing news intake helps Americans stay informed without becoming overwhelmed. Voting consistently, staying informed, and demanding accountability are not symbolic acts; they are the foundation of self‑government.
Citizens can also make fuller use of the institutions that remain—seeking assistance from public agencies, asking their senators and representatives for help navigating services, and insisting those institutions function as designed. Engagement is not passive; it is an expectation that systems built to serve the public remain accessible, responsive, and accountable.
Every time I speak with someone carrying that weight, I hear the same quiet truth: people feel pushed out of their own democracy. That feeling is not personal failure—it is structural neglect. People know the guardrails and institutions are still there; what they see is leaders refusing to enforce them, even when the public is asking them to.
That is why the ethic I taught for years still matters. RISE—Respect, Inclusion, Safety, and Empowerment—is more than a professional framework. It is a democratic one. Democracies thrive when people feel respected, included, safe, and empowered. They falter when those conditions disappear.
These four principles remind us that the way back from drift begins with how we treat one another and how we show up for the Republic. They form the foundation for the choices we must make now.
The choice ahead begins with reclaiming the habits of a participatory democracy. That does not require grand gestures, only consistent ones. It means refusing to surrender our voice, even when feeling unheard tempts us to step back. It means showing up in the local spaces where democratic power still lives—school boards, city councils, community forums, and conversations that shape public will. A Republic under strain strengthens when citizens stay present and engaged.
But citizens cannot carry this work alone. Institutions must meet the moment with the same clarity and courage we ask of the public. That begins with leaders who tell the truth, honor their oaths, and resist the temptation to consolidate power at the expense of the people they serve. When institutions model respect, inclusion, safety, and empowerment, they reinforce the conditions that allow democracy to function.
The choice ahead is not between parties or personalities. It is between drift and renewal, silence and accountability. Today’s strain is not simply political; it is constitutional. It tests whether leaders will honor obligations and whether citizens will exercise the responsibility Madison entrusted to them. A Republic survives only when its people insist it survives.
Benjamin Franklin was asked what had been created at the Constitutional Convention. His answer endures: “A Republic, if you can keep it.” The United States is not collapsing, but it is under strain—not because of a single moment, but by a steady erosion of trust and responsibility. A Republic survives only when its people insist it must survive.
A Republic under strain does not have to be a Republic in decline. We can allow drift to continue, or we can insist on a different path—one grounded in participation, truth, and the belief that every voice still matters. The strain is real, but so is our capacity to rise. If we show up for one another and demand integrity from our institutions, the Republic will not falter. It will endure because its people did.
Carolyn Goode is a retired educational leader and national advocate for ethical leadership and civic renewal. She writes on governance, institutional trust, and democratic responsibility.
Keep ReadingShow less
Load More