The Hangover

Donald Trump has long faced criticism for actions that opponents argue push, if not outright trample, the boundaries of American democracy. After losing the 2020 election, he mounted an aggressive campaign to overturn the results, including filing legally dubious lawsuits and pressuring officials to “find” extra votes. This campaign culminated in the January 6 Capitol insurrection, which was the predictable outcome of his “stolen election” narrative. Yet this event was just one part of a broader pattern: Trump has repeatedly labeled the media as the “enemy of the people,” sought to weaponize the Justice Department against his political rivals, and endorsed restrictive voting laws that critics argue disenfranchise certain groups, all potentially tilting elections in his favor. These actions amount to a sustained assault on democratic institutions, eroding public trust in everything from the electoral process to judicial independence.

All of this took place while Trump was still somewhat restrained by political checks on his actions. Now, when he return to office, he would do so without the prospect of facing another election, potentially feeling even freer to act without constraint. Living in Trump-country, I find it striking—and often ironic—that many of my family members, friends, and neighbors view him as a defender of democracy. They support a man who, by his own actions, has repeatedly undermined core democratic principles: he has pledged to assume sweeping powers on his first day by becoming a dictator, refused to accept election results when he lost, interfered with the justice system, branded the free press as the enemy, used his pardon power to release corrupt allies, advocated for restricting voting access, attacked election officials, and even floated ideas like extending presidential term limits. These actions signal not the defense of democracy but a relentless effort to consolidate power at its expense.