Pete Davis joins The Great Battlefield podcast to talk about his career and founding the Democracy Policy Network, where they're building an interstate policy network to deepen democracy in statehouses.
Podcast: Deepening democracy in the states

Pete Davis joins The Great Battlefield podcast to talk about his career and founding the Democracy Policy Network, where they're building an interstate policy network to deepen democracy in statehouses.
Elderly residents gather at a local civil affairs service center to watch the live broadcast of China's Victory Day military parade from Beijing on September 3, 2025 in Chongqing, China. The parade, commemorating the 80th anniversary of the end of World War II, featured Chinese President Xi Jinping addressing the nation and reviewing troops and military equipment at Tiananmen Square
On Sept. 3, 2025, China celebrated the 80th anniversary of its victory over Japan by staging a carefully choreographed event in which 26 world leaders were offered a podium view of Beijing’s impressive military might.
The show of strength was deliberate and reignited a debate in Western mediaover whether we are on the cusp of a China-centric “new world order” to replace the U.S.-dominated international “rules-based order.”
But as someone who writes about geopolitics, I believe we are already there. It might be in flux, and the U.S. still has a big role in it, but a new world order has begun – and as it develops, it will look increasingly different than what it’s replacing.
Global history can be understood as the rise and fall of different orders, defined as a given era’s dominant power relations and attendant institutions and norms.
From 1815 to 1880, the United Kingdom was the undisputed world superpower, with an empire and navy that spanned the globe. The period from 1880 to 1945 was one of imperial rivalries as other countries – largely European and the U.S. – sought to copy Britain’s success and replace its dominance. Supplanting that was the bipolar world of two competing superpowers, the Soviet Union and the U.S., marking the period from 1945 to 1991.
The fall of the Soviet Union was the beginning of a brief period, from 1991 to 2008, of a unipolar world centered on U.S. global dominance, military power and economic might. With the retreat of global communism, the U.S. increased its influence, and that of the international rules-based order it helped establish after 1945, through institutions such as the World Trade Organization, World Bank and International Monetary Fund.
The tearing down of the Berlin Wall marked the end of the Cold War. Colin Campbell/Getty Images
It did not last long in the face of a long war on terrorism, the fiasco of the invasion of Iraq, the long occupation of Afghanistan and finally the 2008 global financial crisis that undermined U.S. strength and weakened domestic support for Washington’s role as the world’s policeman.
In recent years, a new multipolar world has emerged with at least four distinct sources of power.
The U.S. remains central to this world order. It is blessed with a huge territory, a dynamic economy and the strategic luxury of large oceans on its east and west and much smaller powers to its north and south. The U.S. had a global military presence in the previous bipolar and unipolar order. But the cost of this imperial overstretch has prompted Washington to shift the cost burden toward its former allies, leading to a new militarization in Europe and East Asia where most countries now aim to increase military spending.
There is also a change in economic arrangements. In the unipolar order, the U.S. promoted a frictionless free trade arrangement and economic globalization. This resulted in the global shift of manufacturing that in turn created a populist backlash in those countries where manufacturing employment was hollowed out.
Now, economic nationalism is becoming a much more common refrain than free trade. Long the promoter of purportedly open markets, the U.S. is now leading the way in resurrecting tariff barriers to levels that haven’t been seen on the global stage in decades.
The military realignments and growing trade barriers will make it increasingly difficult to assemble durable alliances. In the short term the U.S. can leverage its existing power to its advantage, but over the long term other countries will likely pivot away from too much reliance on the U.S. The American Century that publishing magnate Henry Luce famously described in 1941 has to all intents and purposes come to an end.
China is now a peer competitor to the U.S. in both economic and military power. Increasingly, under the powerful leadership of Xi Jinping, China openly seeks a more Sino-centric world order with institutions and a global arrangement to match. To that end, it is assembling an axis of resistance to a U.S.-dominated world order. Russia, suffering from post-imperial syndrome, is an important member but not an equal partner.
Russian power is limited to establishing a Eurasian sphere of influence across its former Soviet republics and disrupting liberal democracies. But in that, Russia is more of a spoiler than an architect of the new order.
And then there is Europe, facing what British Prime Minister Keir Starmer referred to as a “generational challenge” as the U.S. pivots away from Europe toward the Indo-Pacific just as Russia poses a more serious threat to Europe, especially for its easternmost states.
Europe is remilitarizing after decades of demilitarizing. Sweden and Finland joined NATO in 2023 and 2024, respectively. In the coming decades, Europe could emerge as an independent source of both economic and military power with a different agenda from the U.S. – more keen to confront Russia, less willing to support Israel, and perhaps more willing to engage with China.
But all three power centers – the U.S., China and Europe – will struggle with similar and unique internal challenges.
All of them have sluggish economies and aging populations. The U.S. faces growing inequality and political instability as it shifts from a liberal democracy to competitive authoritarianism. China has an untested military, a looming demographic crisis, a faltering economy and a forthcoming succession struggle.
Finally, Europe is beset with a nationalist populism and growing social welfare costs just as military expenditures are set to increase.
This threefold division is strangely reminiscent of the tripartite global division in George Orwell’s “1984,” where Oceania, Eurasia and Eastasia fought a permanent war of shifting alliances.
But Orwell was writing at a time when much of what is now called the Global South was either under the informal or formal control of the superpowers. That is no longer the case in the Global South, especially in the case of the larger countries such as Brazil, India and Indonesia.
The Global South is not yet a coherent bloc, more an informal arrangement of independent actors that tend to hedge between the major powers.
Yet none of this new global reality means that things are now fixed. Indeed, the new world order is in a state of disruptive flux that promises years of growing pains. Both the U.S. and China need allies, and countries in the Global South will continue to hedge between the competing powers.
It doesn’t have to end this way. Dan Kitwood/Getty Images
As such, the world is in for a process of constant jostling as the major powers seek alliances while dealing with domestic pressures. In that messy status quo, many questions remain: Who will be most effective in building durable alliances? Will China manage its internal challenges? Will Europe get its act together? Will Russia continue its disruptive ways? Could a post-Trump U.S., post-Putin Russia and post-Xi China move the world in yet a different direction altogether?
And there is one large question above all others: Can the major powers manage their competition through shared global interests, such as combating climate change, environmental pollution and pandemic threats? Or will mounting conflict in the newly contested areas of the Arctic, cyberspace, outer space and the oceanic realm, and in ongoing geopolitical hot spots provide the trigger for outright conflict?
All world orders come to an end. The hope is the old one is doing so with a whimper rather than a bang.
John Rennie Short is an expert on urban issues, environmental concerns, geopolitics and the history of cartography.
A New World Order Isn’t Coming, It’s Already Here − and This Is What It Looks Like was originally published by The Conversation and is republished with permission.
President Donald Trump speaks to mourners at State Farm Stadium in Phoenix, Arizona, to honor Charlie Kirk (September 21, 2025)
Today, more than 70,000 mourners filled State Farm Stadium in Phoenix, Arizona, to honor Charlie Kirk, the 31-year-old founder of Turning Point USA, who was shot and killed on September 10 while speaking at Utah Valley University.
The memorial, held just eleven days after the attack, was not only a funeral—it was a vivid reflection of how grief, ideology, and national identity now converge in American public life. Inside the stadium, home of the NFL’s Arizona Cardinals, the atmosphere oscillated between solemn remembrance and political rally. Thousands more gathered outside under tight security, underscoring the scale and sensitivity of the moment.
President Donald Trump headlined the service, elevating Kirk’s legacy to symbolic heights. “He’s a martyr now, for America, for freedom,” Trump declared. “None of us will ever forget Charlie Kirk, and neither now will history.” The line drew a standing ovation and quickly circulated across social media, solidifying Kirk’s transformation from activist to emblem.
File:Charlie Kirk - 53069222184.jpg - Wikipedia en.m.wikipedia.org
Vice President J.D. Vance joined other speakers in portraying Kirk as a voice for young conservatives who felt sidelined by liberal institutions. Supporters waved flags, chanted slogans, and wore Turning Point USA gear, creating a visual tableau that mirrored the movement Kirk helped build. Among them were Tyler and Caleb Dickey, cousins from Tyler, Texas, who drove 16 hours overnight to attend.
“It felt like everything was going wrong before we left,” Tyler told The Fulcrum. “But that only made it clearer that we were supposed to come. Our actions need to represent our ideology—not just sit at home and complain, but stand up and do something.” Caleb added, “Charlie showed you can engage with people who disagree and still do it peacefully. His stand reminds us we do not have to be fearful. Everybody needs to be Charlie Kirk.”
For both young men, Kirk’s message was ultimately spiritual in nature. “At the end of the day, the most important thing Charlie preached was Jesus Christ,” Tyler said, his voice breaking. “He took a stand for his faith. We need to do the same, no matter the cost.” Their reflections echoed a broader theme: Kirk’s death was not just a personal loss—it became a rallying cry.
Yet not all viewed the memorial through the same lens. Progressive voices expressed concern over the politicization of the mourning process. “This wasn’t just a family farewell,” one Democratic strategist told The Fulcrum. “It was a stage for Trump and the right to canonize Kirk as a martyr. That inflames tensions at a time when the country desperately needs cooler heads.”
Civil rights advocates warned of deepening divides. Turning Point USA has long shaped conservative campus politics, and critics argue that framing Kirk as a fallen hero risks hardening ideological fault lines—between students, communities, and even families.
With the 2026 midterms approaching, Kirk’s story is poised to remain central to Republican messaging: a young conservative who rose quickly, faced fierce opposition, and died violently. For many on the right, his legacy embodies a movement that sees itself under siege. Progressives, meanwhile, face a strategic dilemma—how to respond without reinforcing the narrative. Some call for renewed focus on preventing political violence; others insist the myth-making must be challenged head-on.
In the end, Charlie Kirk’s memorial was more than a tribute. It was a mirror—reflecting the hopes, fears, and fractures of a nation still searching for common ground.
Alex Segura is a bilingual, multiple-platform journalist based in Southern California.
Loneliness and gun violence are twin crises eroding America’s social fabric. Rev. Dr. F. Willis Johnson explores how isolation, easy access to firearms, and political paralysis threaten life, liberty, and belonging.
We are a nation unmoored from itself, where loneliness spreads faster than any virus and gun violence stalks our communities with metronomic certainty. The numbers, at this point, are almost numbing. But the ache they represent is not.
Loneliness is an epidemic. Once considered a private crisis, loneliness has metastasized into a public health catastrophe. Former U.S. Surgeon General Vivek Murthy believed loneliness "as dangerous as smoking fifteen cigarettes a day." We keep scrolling, liking, streaming, and yet so many of us are left feeling profoundly alone. Aloneness is not simply a byproduct of excessive technology or social media engagement, though these play their part. Unfortunately, Americans worship individualism, giving way to the fraying of communal threads. To paraphrase my friend, Eric Liu, executive leader of Citizen University, we are witnessing the fading of shared spaces and the thinning of civic ties and bonds of mutual affection. Thus, as we drift apart, violence fills the space more and more.
Gun violence in America is no longer an aberration—it's an ambient fact of life. Mass shootings title headlines, but they are only the tip of the iceberg. Every day, guns claim the lives of nearly 130 people in the U.S., many by their own hand. Suicides account for a significant number of all deaths by firearms. These same instruments, revered as a symbol of liberty, are for thousands the tool of self-harm.
Loneliness and gun violence are twin symptoms of a deeper malaise. When people feel unseen, unheard, and undervalued, the risk of self-harm and violence against others grows. What's more, the easy access to firearms transforms fleeting moments of pain into permanent tragedy.
So, where, in our so-called democracy, is the response? Here is where the American project falters most conspicuously. We like to believe that ours is a government "of the people, by the people, for the people." Yet, on issues that cut closest to the bone—mental health, gun safety, the basic architecture of belonging—our representatives seem frozen in amber. Poll after poll shows broad popular support for reasonable gun laws, for expanded mental health care, for robust investment in community life. And yet, the legislative gears grind to a halt, jammed by monetary debates, polarization, and a kind of learned helplessness.
The result is a country that professes inalienable rights—life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness—but fails to secure them for millions. If suicide is the tenth leading cause of death in the U.S., if gun violence is the leading cause of death for children and teens, if loneliness is eroding our lifespans, what does it mean to say we are free? What is the value of liberty in a society where so many are left unprotected from despair and violence?
There's a word for this kind of impotence: abdication. It is not, as some would like to pretend, merely a matter of "gridlock" or "partisan bickering." It is a choice—a refusal to wield the tools of democracy to secure “the good life” for all. The failure of policy does not just evidence abdication; it reveals a lack of imagination and a diminished sense of what is possible and promised. We should not allow ourselves to become hostage to this reality. The American story, at its best, is one of collective resolve and willingness to look honestly at our brokenness, while daring to build.
First, we must refuse to accept loneliness as a private problem. It is a civic emergency, and it demands civic solutions. That means rebuilding the public square—not just metaphorically but literally. Invest in libraries, parks, community centers, and transit. Support organizations that foster connection, not just consumption. Reclaim the idea that the government can be an engine of belonging, not just an administrator of transactions.
Second, we must treat gun violence as a public health crisis, not a partisan wedge. That means universal background checks, safe storage laws, red flag policies, and restrictions on weapons of war—the basics, supported by the vast majority of Americans. However, it also means investing in upstream solutions, such as accessible mental health care, trauma-informed education, and economic policies that reduce desperation and isolation.
Third, we must demand more of our representatives—and of ourselves. Democracy is not a spectator sport. If those in power refuse to act, we must make it impossible for them to do otherwise. That means organizing, voting, protesting, and running for office. But it also means practicing democracy in our daily lives: showing up for neighbors, joining local boards, and breaking bread with those unlike ourselves.
Above all, we must reclaim a sense of agency—not just as individuals but as a nation. The sovereignty of civil society is not a given; it is something we must continually assert, defend, and renew. It requires that we see one another, not as threats or strangers, but as fellow travelers, bound together by fate and choice.
We are a country where the right to life, liberty, and happiness is more than a slogan. Where loneliness is not a death sentence, and where our democracy is measured not by its promises but by its practices. A nation that is honest about its failures. Audacious in our hopes. A society learning and yearning to belong to one another. One nation under God, indivisible with liberty and justice for all.
Rev. Dr. F. Willis Johnson is a spiritual entrepreneur, author, scholar-practioner whose leadership and strategies around social and racial justice issues are nationally recognized and applied.
This op-ed challenges Trump’s claims about campus anti-semitism, separating criticism of Israel’s Gaza war from hate against Jews, and calling for honest dialogue.
Trump has used universities' alleged anti-semitism—in condoning student Gaza conflict protests—as an attack point against them, withholding federal funds. There is much talk everywhere about anti-semitism. As a Jew, I experienced anti-semitism in my youth in the statements and actions of everyday people. It is hurtful, and so I welcome any discussion that educates the public about anti-semitism and the baseless nature of its "causes."
But the cause of all the tumult today has little if anything to do with anti-semitism. Anti-semitism is a bias against Jews for attributes supposedly descriptive of Jews or the Jewish people—rich, elite, manipulators, Christ-killers, or controllers of the world. All of these are easily disproven, which I shall address later in this post.
But, first, I must address what is commonly referred to as anti-semitism today: being against the State of Israel, or more exactly, against Israel's conduct of the Gaza conflict against Hamas. This is not anti-semitism.
First of all, there are many Jews in this country and around the world, myself included, who are very much against the way Netanyahu and his ultra-right nationalist supporters have turned a legitimate defensive response to Hamas' vicious attack on Israeli citizens on Oct. 7 into an all-out offensive war, totally out of proportion to that attack, killing tens of thousands of innocent civilians and reducing to rubble vast areas where Palestinians lived.
I and my fellow Jews who have opposed the war are not anti-semites. We are not even anti-Israel. (Although being anti-Israel, or anti-Zionist, is also not being anti-semitic; one may be, but not necessarily.) We are, however, very anti-Netanyahu and against the ultra-right coalition that keeps him in power.
It is unfortunate that many well-intentioned supporters of a Palestinian state and opponents of the war have been led by provocateurs to turn that opposition into an opposition to the State of Israel, rather than the current leaders of Israel; they have made them anti-Zionists. It's as though people who are against Donald Trump and MAGA were turned into haters of America instead. Wouldn't that be unwarranted and ridiculous?
Yes, there has been some violence against Jewish students as part of these protests, but that violence has not been against them as Jews but as supporters of Israel and the Gaza war. This, again, is not anti-semitism.
However, it must be noted that there has also been an uptick of violence against Jews, whether in synagogues or elsewhere. (There was also an uptick after Trump's first inauguration.) This is clearly anti-semitism, and it is very worrying. Whether the perpetrators are white supremacists taking advantage of the tumult or people against the war is not known; from the reports I've read, I suspect the former.
In light of this discussion, what of Trump's allegation of anti-semitism against Columbia and other universities and his assertion that he is the best friend Jews have ever had? As I've just shown, actions condoning these protests have nothing to do with anti-semitism; they are more actions supporting free speech. This is just a ruse for him to attack liberal institutions and withhold funding for liberal causes.
As for his claim that he is the best friend Jews have had—how ludicrous. His support of Netanyahu does not make him Jews' best friend, not even Israel's—just Netanyahu's. More importantly, here is a man who, as president, has cozied up to white supremacists who are known to be anti-semites, as well as Blacks, such as Kanye West, who are openly anti-semitic; a president who has people on his staff who are known anti-semites.
The existence of anti-semitism in this country and elsewhere is very real. But that real anti-semitism is not even referenced by Trump. It is not on his agenda because it does not serve his political goals and would actually endanger his support from those of his supporters who are White supremacists.
And, now, to the supposed attributes of Jews that are the underpinning of anti-semitism:
* Rich - while it is true that a somewhat greater proportion of Jews are well-off relative to the rest of the white population, a large proportion of Jews are low-income (31%).
* Elite - while it is true that a larger proportion of Jews are college graduates than the rest of the white population, Hindus and several Protestant denominations have as high or higher rates. The Jewish rate is a function of how Jews view the importance of education, mainly because, as historically oppressed people, education was an avenue to improve their lives.
* Manipulators - The human race is full of people who manipulate others. This is not an attribute that can be attributed particularly to Jews.
* Christ-killers - While the Temple priests considered Jesus a rebel, and according to the New Testament urged Herod to crucify him, the Jews as a people were not involved in the process, and so were not his killers.
* Controllers of the world - This charge is based on the so-called "Protocols of the Elders of Zion." This fraudulent fabrication, which originated in Tsarist Russia—a very anti-semitic society—purports to show that Jews plan to dominate the world. It would be laughable were it not still in this day a document that moves many to become anti-semites.
But even if these specific "causes" of anti-semitism are debunked, the real root of anti-semitism is that it's been around so long that it's in some people's blood. They heard it from their parents, and so they believe it. As the song in Rodgers & Hammerstein's South Pacific says, "You've got to be taught before it's too late, before you are six or seven or eight, to hate all the people your relatives hate, you've got to be carefully taught.”
Anti-semitism, just like racism, will be with us until the leadership of this country and its cultural institutions decide it's time at long last to have a national discussion of these issues, to show people the baselessness of these attitudes and their lack of humanity.
Ronald L. Hirsch is a teacher, legal aid lawyer, survey researcher, nonprofit executive, consultant, composer, author, and volunteer. He is a graduate of Brown University and the University of Chicago Law School and the author of We Still Hold These Truths. Read more of his writing at www.PreservingAmericanValues.com