“Citizens who abide by the tribal theory of democracy rarely ask questions because they routinely believe that they have all the answers.” Tim Redmond - Political Tribalism in America (2022)
In the D’Amuro house, politics, history, and even religion were regular dinner-table fare. I may be one of the few Americans whose parents were disappointed when he chose teaching over politics.
I’ve carried those conversations into adulthood—often, I suspect, to the annoyance of friends and family. But as we cross the midpoint of the 2020s, I can’t shake a growing unease. The 24-hour news cycle has locked us into what I call minutiae politics: a fixation on whatever story the media winds blow our way. We bicker over headlines, soundbites, and scandals as if they were the lifeblood of democracy. They aren’t. And the more we mistake them for the real work of self-government, the weaker our system becomes.
This narrowing of focus comes at a cost. In high school and college, I was part of the problem. I devoured the latest statistics, polls, and talking points, always ready with ammunition for my side. What I rarely did was pause to ask the larger questions in divisive moments: Does this policy or action align with the ideals laid out in our founding documents? Is this the kind of government we actually want? And what do our disagreements demand of us—unyielding loyalty to a side or a willingness to find common ground? When framed that way, compromise no longer looks like surrender. It becomes one of the ways a diverse republic manages to hold together.
Disunion and an aversion to unity may feel like uniquely modern problems, but they are not. The founding generation wrestled with them too and sought to embed remedies in the framework we still operate under.
As I began teaching, it was time to step back from the churn of headlines and weigh them against the framework of our constitutional system—and how our founding ideals might speak to modern challenges. Recently, I read Yuval Levin’s American Covenant, which provided a clearer articulation of what I had been reaching toward.
Levin reminds us of what the framers of our Constitution understood deeply: Representative government isn’t about speed or partisanship. It is about unity and cohesion. Our system was built to move slowly, to deliberate, and to build consensus. That design is most visible in the legislative branch, where progress depends on compromise, and in the presidency, which was never meant to be wielded as a partisan battering ram each time power shifts. On the contrary, Levin argues, the framers intended the executive branch to serve as a stabilizing force between elections.
This deliberate pace was not a flaw; it was the point. The founders believed stability and unity mattered more than winning every policy battle of the day. To them, compromise was the means of holding a diverse republic together. And when compromise did produce legislation, the framers trusted it would endure, rather than be undone by subsequent leaders.
Contrast that vision with today’s political culture. Each day delivers a new controversy via our news outlets or social media, and we demand our leaders respond faster than an Amazon package arrives at our door. The result is not only polarization but also civic shallowness. We debate headlines without ever grappling with the deeper question of how we want our government to function.
I don’t mean to dismiss the importance of current events. The issues of the day matter, but if we only engage at that surface level, we squander much. Too often, politics resembles a binge-worthy series discussed around the water cooler rather than a serious attempt to sustain representative government.
The challenge before us is to reorient political conversations. Imagine if, alongside our debates about the latest story, we also asked: What does this mean for the health of our constitutional system? How does this fit into the long-term vision of our government’s framework? Are we strengthening unity—or just deepening divides?
Those aren’t easy questions, and viral reels and tweets won’t answer them.
We can start small. Around our tables, in classrooms, and even online, we can elevate the conversation. Instead of letting talking points define our politics, we can place that story in the broader framework of democratic life.
That’s what I want for my children—and for all future citizens: not to react to headlines but to think deeply about the nature of government, the meaning of compromise, and the responsibilities of citizenship. In a world of breaking news alerts and political noise, it’s easy to lose sight of the big picture. But if we put aside the distractions and ask the larger questions, we may rediscover the principles that bind us—and in doing so, hand down a republic worthy of the next generation.
Nicholas D'Amuro is an Instructional Coordinator at Genesee Valley BOCES, supporting curriculum development and professional learning. In 2024, he co-founded the Civi Coalition (civiawards.us), a statewide initiative dedicated to civic education and bridging divides. He also serves as a sector ambassador for the Listen First Project and as a town councilman.
