In this edition of #ListenFirstFriday, the 17-year-old founder of YAP Politics discusses efforts to bridge the polarizations between political affiliations.
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President Donald Trump speaks to the Republican Members Issues Conference at Trump National Doral Miami on March 9, 2026 in Doral, Florida.
Donald Trump has created his own Alice in Wonderland world, where everything is flipped on its head, where things are the opposite of what they in fact are. He has conquered by labeling things that present the truth as "fake," whereas in fact he himself and what he presents as "truth" to his supporters are fake. What follows is just a small sampling of his manipulation of facts.
1. The latest fake news is Trump's rationale for military action against Iran. He claims that 1) Iran has restarted its nuclear program, 2) that it could build a bomb within days, and 3) will soon have long-range missiles capable of hitting the U.S.
But as reported in The New York Times, these claims are either false or unproven. International monitoring groups and U.S. intelligence find that Iran's uranium is still buried after the last attack, that they have not resumed their nuclear program, that they could not build a bomb quickly, and that long-range missiles that could hit the U.S. are years away. These claims are reminiscent of Bush's false claims of Iraq's weapons of mass destruction as a reason for invading Iraq.
2. He Won the 2020 Election: Probably the most serious of his lies is his claim that he won the 2020 election and that the numbers showed him losing because of fraud and various irregularities. I say the most serious because it presents a serious challenge to the foundation of our democracy—free and fair elections.
What are the facts? After losing, Trump and his allies filed a record 62 suits challenging election processes, vote counting, and vote certification in 9 states. He lost each and every case.
He and his allies also asked for recounts or audits in five states—a total of 8 requests. In each instance, the election results were confirmed—there was no fraud.
Trump tried to have fake electors in seven states certify that he had won their state's election. However, on January 5, Pence made clear that he did not have the discretion to reject valid electoral college certifications, and therefore could not participate in this scheme.
Then in a last effort, on January 6, Trump urged his supporters to storm the U.S. Capitol, where the certification of the election results was to take place that day, and thus disrupt the process.
Trump still does not concede he lost in 2020 and continues to claim fraud. His supporters, as believers, share that belief. This is perhaps the central "fact" that drives his continuing support.
Why have Democrats never made the public and his supporters aware of these overwhelming facts?
3. Illegal Immigrants Are Criminals: Murderers and Rapists: Trump has for years been railing against illegal immigrants as being serious criminals and causing an increase in crime in American cities.
That is fake news. The truth is that U.S. Customs and Border Protection data show that only a small number of illegal immigrants have committed crimes other than illegal entry and DUI. Data from the Texas Dept of Public Safety further show that undocumented immigrants have substantially lower crime rates than US-born citizens. The mass deportation program and ICE actions have been unwarranted.
4. Large "Democratic" Cities Are Out of Control: Starting with the District of Columbia, and then Los Angeles, Chicago, Memphis, and New York, Trump has claimed these cities are dangerous because of out-of-control gang and other criminal activity. He then either called up the state's National Guard over the objection of state and local Democratic officials or sent in the Marines.
The facts are that violent crime has actually decreased in our major cities over the past 6 years. Yes, it is true that crime in the poor sections of these cities is a serious factor affecting residents' lives, and that local police have not been able to make much headway in making these areas safer. Overall, these cities are quite safe.
Further, these troops have not been stationed in poor areas to stop crime. The result is that serious crime has not decreased; the ghettos have not been made safer.
This whole project has been a ruse, creating a reason for Trump to show his power and punish his Democratic enemies.
5. He Is the Best Friend Jews Ever Had: Trump claims that no president has fought antisemitism as much as he has.
That is fake news. The truth is that Trump has not fought antisemitism at all. He has fought what he calls the antisemitism of student protests against Israel's war in Gaza. But as I explained in an article, "Are the Anti-Gaza War Protests an Example of Anti-Semitism?", being anti-Netanyahu or even anti-Israel is not necessarily being antisemitic.
But he has not fought real antisemitism. Here is a man who, as President, has cozied up to white supremacists who are known to be antisemites, as well as Blacks such as Kanye West. He has said nothing about the antisemitic vitriol that comes from these people who support him.
6. He ended the War in Gaza: Trump sees himself as an international peace maker. After the cease-fire and hostage deal were announced, Trump said, "At long last, we have peace in the Middle East." "The war is over."
That is fake news. This was just the first and easiest stage of the larger peace deal, to which neither Hamas nor Israel has committed themselves. There have been ceasefires and hostage deals before. Given the unrelenting enmity between the two forces, it is highly unlikely that a peace deal will ever be reached.
7. He Has Fought For the American Working Man and Farmer: Trump's rise to power was based largely on his support among working men and women and rural Americans, both of whom have been having a rough time economically for decades. Why did they support him? In his speeches, he gave voice to their grievances.
But that posturing was all fake. In reality, Trump has done nothing to help either the working man or the family farmer. What he has done is help big business and the rich. He has, however, done much that has hurt his supporters, mainly through tariffs that have raised prices on everyday products, as well as on tractors and fertilizer, which impact farmers.
And the tariffs imposed on China have caused China to completely cease buying soybeans from American farmers, causing huge losses.
Unfortunately, because he has near-God status among his supporters, he can do no wrong and speaks the truth. Anything his opponents say to prove otherwise is not listened to. Even the clear suffering of farmers because of his actions has not affected their support of him, even as they complain.
What should Democrats do in this situation? Present the public with the truth about these issues and explain why their vision and policies are grounded in our founding principles and will help all Americans. Do it incessantly. Resist bashing Trump because he is very popular with the people you want to convince to vote for you this time. Run a positive campaign.
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

Virginia Gov. Abigail Spanberger delivers the Democratic response to U.S. President Donald Trump's State of the Union address on February 24, 2026 in Williamsburg, Virginia.
Anyone tuning into the State of the Union expecting responsible governance was sorely disappointed. What they got instead was pure Trumpian spectacle.
All the familiar elements were there: extended applause lines, culture-war provocation, even self-congratulation, praising the U.S. hockey team and folding its victory into a broader narrative of national resurgence. The whole thing was show business, crafted for reaction rather than reflection, for clips rather than consensus.
It was a relief when Virginia Gov. Abigail Spanberger delivered the Democratic response and shifted the conversation from overheated rhetoric to three simple questions.
She asked: Is the president working to make life more affordable for you and your family? Is the president working to keep Americans safe, both at home and abroad? Is the president working for you?
The administration can try to spin them, but lived experience tells a different story. The answers are not in the chamber but in daily life: at the grocery store, at the gas pump, on a credit card statement, in the safety of our communities, and at the kitchen table.
Start with affordability.
Inflation has cooled from its post-pandemic highs, and the White House is quick to note it. Unemployment remains low and, on paper, the indicators look stable.
But affordability is not a chart; it is a daily reality that asks whether wages keep pace with rent and insurance premiums, whether retirement savings feel secure, and whether families believe next year will bring more stability than the last.
Confidence, however, is eroding. Consumer sentiment has fallen for four consecutive months, reaching its lowest level since 2020. Americans’ outlook on income, business conditions, and jobs has dropped to a 12-year low, and credit card delinquencies more than 90 days past due have climbed to a 13-year high.
For many middle-class families, the markers of the American Dream feel increasingly distant. Mortgage rates have doubled from pandemic lows, pushing first-time homeownership out of reach, while rents have outpaced wages in many cities. Childcare rivals college tuition in some states. Health insurance premiums and deductibles keep rising. Student loan payments have resumed, tightening already strained budgets.
The result is persistent anxiety as families delay buying homes, young couples postpone having children, and retirement contributions shrink to cover short-term expenses. While certain parts of the economy may be growing, family confidence is not.
These are not partisan numbers. They are economic stress signals that raise a harder question: Is the administration calming uncertainty, or amplifying it?
The second question follows: Are we safe?
At the State of the Union, the language of safety was everywhere: border security, military strength, law and order. The president cited deportations, renewed border barriers, and rebuilding the armed forces as proof that America was regaining control. The imagery was calculated; strength projected from the podium was meant to reassure a jittery nation. Yet reassuring words carry little weight when daily life tells another story. Security, like affordability, rests not on rhetoric but on durable governance.
By the end of the week, the administration launched military strikes against Iran, a war of choice that risks destabilizing the Middle East and drawing the United States into another prolonged conflict. The question is not whether strength should ever be used, but whether its use makes Americans safer or merely signals resolve.
True security in a constitutional republic is measured not by how quickly a president acts alone, but by whether policy withstands scrutiny, commands legislative backing, and strengthens institutions rather than bypassing them.
In recent months, the administration has leaned heavily on executive orders and emergency authorities to reshape immigration enforcement and national security posture. Executive action is swift but also reversible; what one president builds by decree, the next can erase with a signature. That cycle may project decisiveness, but it does not build stability.
Alliances require consistency. Deterrence requires credibility. Border policy requires coordination with Congress, courts, and states. When governance turns unilateral, security becomes personality-driven rather than system-driven.
Personality is not a strategy.
The third question cuts deeper: Is the president working for you?
In a constitutional system, that question is answered not by rally size or executive speed, but by whether power flows through institutions designed to represent the public. Congress controls the purse and should be consulted before taking the country to war. Courts review executive action. Agencies implement laws shaped through deliberation and compromise. When those structures function, citizens may disagree with outcomes yet still recognize the process as legitimate.
When they weaken, the shift is subtle but significant. Budgets are deferred through continuing resolutions. Policy moves through executive orders rather than legislation. Loyalty begins to outweigh expertise in the civil service. The visible story is decisive leadership; the deeper reality is institutional erosion.
A president working for the public strengthens the mechanisms that translate disagreement into policy and works through them, even when it is slower and less dramatic.
The State of the Union was performative, the applause loud and partisan, the imagery vivid, but the real test is quieter: whether families feel more secure, whether the nation is safer in ways that endure, and whether the institutions that bind us are stronger, not thinner. When the chamber empties, the lights dim, and the clips circulate, the serious questions remain.
Robert Cropf is a Professor of Political Science at Saint Louis University.

U.S. President Donald Trump at the White House February 20, 2026 in Washington, DC.
Secrecy is like a shroud of fog. By limiting what people can see and check for themselves, the public gets either a glimpse (or nothing at all), depending on what gatekeepers decide to share. And just as fog comes in layers, so does withholding: one missing document, one delayed detail, one “not available” that becomes routine.
Most adults understand there are things that shouldn’t be shown. Lawyers can’t reveal case details to people who aren’t involved. Police don’t release information during an active investigation. Doctors shouldn’t discuss your medical history at home. The reason is simple: actual harm can follow when sensitive information is revealed too early or to those who shouldn’t be told.
But another kind of secrecy has been developing over time. It’s less about protection and more about insulation. It’s the kind that says, “You don’t get to ever know.” This veil isn’t meant to protect a person or preserve an investigation. It protects the system from questions.
And when it becomes routine, it’s not just transparency that gets limited. Restricting what the public can verify is how legitimacy begins to fray.
Silence isn’t being used as an occasional tactic anymore. Concealment has become the new normal: the structure of how systems work.
When reticence becomes a framework, lawfulness starts wobbling.
Permissibility isn’t a mood. It’s a public agreement that power is being used in fair, limited, accountable ways, not perfectly, but enough that consent isn’t something authorities simply demand.
Consent needs visibility. Not full transparency. No sane person is asking for live-streamed investigations or open-source intelligence files. But we do need enough clarity to verify claims, understand guardrails, and recognize consequences when boundaries are crossed.
When documentation is withheld, trust doesn’t vanish overnight. It erodes. And over time, people stop treating official claims as “true by default” when the supporting facts can’t be checked, all while drifting toward the “most credible” narrative minus receipts.
Sometimes obscurity shows up in quiet ways: disclosures that arrive too late to matter; carefully framed details that feel vacuum-sealed; paragraphs blacked out. Other times it’s more direct: sealed investigations, buried records, decisions made behind closed doors—followed by the public being told that transparency is dangerous.
Not all secrecy is bad. Some information must be kept secret: cases can be ruined by publicity; witnesses can be intimidated; a vulnerable person can be dragged through a digital town square as punishment. But there’s a point when “necessary confidentiality” becomes power without visibility. That’s when legitimacy starts rotting — not with a dramatic collapse, but with a slow administrative shrug.
The public doesn’t need to know everything. We need enough to answer one basic question:
Is power being used with limits, or for convenience?
That question stops being abstract when a state announces an investigation tied to something as infamous as Jeffrey Epstein’s Zorro Ranch in New Mexico. Investigation doesn’t automatically mean conviction. Allegations aren’t proof. But when officials announce a serious inquiry connected to a high-profile network of harm, headlines aren’t enough. People want to know what is demonstrable, what can be documented, what will be sealed (and why), and how the inquiry is structured.
This is where obscurity shows up. High-stakes cases often follow the same pattern: statements that sound informative but deliver less; more hedging, highlights, and half releases; even when officials insist they’re doing the work well. The structure can still feel engineered to limit scrutiny, not because everything is unfair, but because scrutiny is inconvenient.
This is the purity gap: systems request belief while delaying the information that makes belief reasonable.
Silence doesn’t have to be deliberate to disrupt. Too many people can benefit (quietly, for a wide range of reasons) from withholding. It limits responsibility. It controls accountability. It leaves the public in a fog of jumbled discourse. The system it was meant to safeguard begins to disintegrate, gradually enough that what once would have triggered an alarm becomes normal.
It starts as a choice: a move to keep something out of the public view. What starts as a decision becomes a rule. Habits are normalized. Then they turn into a process.
One method is the hardening of “need to know.” Intended for sensitive information, it gets stretched beyond recognition — because it becomes useful for hiding what’s embarrassing, politically costly, or simply inconvenient. In this climate, the definition of “need” retracts, the circle of access tightens, and suddenly “need to know” isn’t just about confidentiality.
It’s about who gets to hold power and who gets protected while rank is enforced.
And plausible deniability doesn’t require lying. By learning where not to seek facts (what questions not to ask, what records not to request, what concerns not to connect), people learn how not to know. Cultural signaling does the rest. So does the quiet math of saving your job.
The process often starts with a legitimate reason: safety, privacy, diplomacy, or an active investigation. Over time, withholding becomes a way to avoid oversight, conflict, or dissent. New people arrive and are told, “This is just how things are done.” No longer a tactic, it becomes cultural inheritance.
Opacity rarely arrives all at once. Each step looks reasonable by itself. Add one more approval. Include one more restricted folder. Tag on another redaction. Slap on more intermediaries. Tack on legal reviews. Eventually, a black box appears.
People adapt to the “new normal.” Informationalism replaces explanation; sound bites replace evidence; proof becomes optional. When evidence isn’t forthcoming, believable narratives get accepted. When proof is consistently inaccessible, suspicion becomes the default operating system.
“Trust the process” can be sincere. More often than not, it’s used as a substitute for explanation.
People don’t flip trust on and off like a light switch because they were asked nicely. Acceptance is a conclusion reached after repeatedly witnessing: consistent rule of application, consequences for broken rules, justified secrecy, and credible oversight.
A system that conducts itself as if it’s being scrutinized earns trust. A legitimate system doesn’t treat review as a threat. It may dread misunderstanding, but it recognizes that accountability is part of stewardship, not an enemy of it.
The last decade has produced a strange shift: institutions increasingly behave as though citizens’ questions aren’t “friendly.” Sometimes there’s a cause. People can be righteously
angry. Values can change without explanation. People can feel lied to. But the answer to anger isn’t doubling down on hidden facts. It’s improved oversight for what must remain confidential—alongside truthful, irrefutable transparency about what can be seen.
So, the question is no longer “secrecy or transparency.” It’s this:
Where is the line—and who enforces it?
People can tolerate confidentiality when given clear standards, narrow definitions, and the ability to review records later. People can accept “not yet.” They cannot live with “never” dressed up as “trust us.”
As long as secrecy remains in place, accountability must be structurally built in. It must be a design choice, not a public relations campaign.
There should be a framework for what is held back, why, for how long, and what triggers disclosure later. Predictable rules matter more than constant detail. There should be a default timeline, with exceptions that are convincing.
Too many systems don’t give ordinary people a credible path to contest secrecy decisions. There should be an avenue for challenge that doesn’t require bleeding retirement funds into lawsuits.
This doesn’t require full disclosure. It requires a reviewable reason, a time limit, and independent appeal options when “confidential” becomes a familiar tune. Agencies can be protected with an open framework. When review is possible (even later), people are less likely to assume the worst now. Eventual disclosure robs conspiracy thinking of oxygen.
At present, the vacuum is filling itself.
The deeper issue is volatility: the public can’t discern fact from fiction and becomes susceptible to the most emotionally charged story. Distrust turns into currency. Whether deserved or not, every agency gets treated like a defendant before trial.
Volatility compounds: legitimate rules aren’t followed strictly; eagerness to bypass systems increases; conversations unmoor from facts; division accelerates; and every action is presumed malevolent, which makes governance harder.
Believing they’re protecting themselves, institutions respond by tightening secrecy even more. And the loop goes like this: more privacy, less trust. Less trust, more silence. That’s how secrecy becomes infrastructure, all while everyone else tilts at windmills.
This isn’t a philosophical complaint about “clearness.” It’s a warning about system stability.
It’s also a moment where information is plentiful, but review is limited, and artificial intelligence (AI) can generate logical nonsense at scale. In that climate, institutions can’t afford to treat legitimacy as an emotional public relations problem. Legitimacy is operational: it’s the difference between challenging opinions being accepted with clean boundaries—and every decision being treated as a power grab because the lines aren’t visible.
Otherwise, you aren’t asking for trust. You’re demanding it. And people don’t follow demands for very long. They either conform out of fear or rebel out of resentment. Neither is stable.
At some point, fog stops being weather.
It becomes architecture.
And whether we like it or not, fog shapes behavior.
Linda Hansen is a writer and the founder of Bridging the Aisle, a nonpartisan platform fostering honest, respectful dialogue across divides and renewed trust in democracy.

U.S. President Donald Trump, with Vice President JD Vance and Speaker of the House Mike Johnson looking on, delivers his State of the Union address during a Joint Session of Congress at the U.S. Capitol on Feb. 24, 2026, in Washington, D.C. Trump delivered his address days after the Supreme Court struck down the administration's tariff strategy and amid a U.S.
State of the Union speeches haven’t mattered in a while. Even in their heyday, they were only bringing in 60-plus million viewers, and that’s been declining substantially for decades. They rarely result in a post-speech bump for any president, and according to Gallup polling data since 1978, the average change in a president’s approval rating has been less than one percentage point in either direction.
To be sure, this is good news for President Trump. He should hope and pray this State of the Union was lightly watched.
His speech was a chaotic cacophony of lies, bigotry, gaslighting, and willful ignorance, painting the portrait of a man who has lost the country, and he knows it.
If Trump is confident about the state of the union, the health of the Republican Party, and keeping the majority come November, his unhinged and delusional address belied that confidence. Instead, his cartoonish overcompensating for a disastrous first year only drove home the point that his administration is spiraling out of control and has no plans to change course.
Sounding very much like Joe Biden and Kamala Harris — who, I’ll remind you, lost all seven swing states in 2024 — Trump bragged about a country and economy that most Americans don’t recognize.
“Our nation is back: bigger, better, richer and stronger than ever before,” he declared. “This is the golden age of America.”
Few Americans feel that way, however. Polls show Trump’s job approval is at an all-time low. Most Americans think Trump is moving the country in the wrong direction, and a plurality believes Trump is doing a worse job than Biden. Most think he’s focused on issues that aren’t very important to them, and a majority say they are very concerned about the cost of health care, food, consumer goods, and housing. Less than a third of Americans believe the economy will be better in a year.
This anxiety over the economy and health of the country could not match Trump’s bombastic gloating any less. Americans are worried and frustrated, and are in no mood for Trump’s delusional victory laps.
He didn’t fare much better on immigration, another one of Trump’s signature issues. In April of 2025, 48% of Americans approved of Trump’s handling of immigration. In the months following, which saw ICE surges in major cities, ugly confrontations with citizens, the unlawful detainment of several illegal immigrants, and the shocking deaths of two protesters, his approval has dipped to a low of 41%, with his disapproval skyrocketing to 55%.
There was no acknowledgment of this or attempt at a course-correction in his speech, though. Instead, he played to the cheapest of seats with gory tales of violence by illegal drug lords, murderers and rapists — criminals no one has an issue with removing.
Finally, on tariffs, Trump told voters the sky was green. “Everything was working well,” before the Supreme Court shot them down, he insisted, and said that “factories, jobs, investment and trillions and trillions of dollars will continue pouring into America” because of those tariffs.
But according to independent estimates, his tariffs have cost U.S. households as much as $2,600 per year and polls show a majority of Americans oppose them.
Now, if he doesn’t want to listen to voters, that’s certainly his prerogative and I imagine Democrats won’t get in his way. Republican lawmakers who are up in November, though, probably wish he’d start sounding different when he talked about the economic pain most Americans were feeling.
But they’d need a different president, one who isn’t delusional and totally unwilling to admit what most people can see and feel: the state of the union is bad, and Trump is to blame.
S.E. Cupp is the host of "S.E. Cupp Unfiltered" on CNN.