Trump’s America Isn’t a Clean-Up Job—It’s Controlled Demolition
Trump’s America Isn’t a Clean-Up Job—It’s Controlled Demolition
When Donald Trump was elected in 2016, many viewed it as a
disruption—a break from stale political norms. In truth, it was just the
trailer. The 2024 re-election campaign was the feature-length film, and this
time, roughly 75 million voters bought tickets for a sequel that promised to
“clean up” America.
But what exactly was the mess? And what does cleaning look
like when the method is to throw more dirt on the floor?
Trump’s appeal to many is still rooted in the fantasy that
his anger is surgically targeted—aimed only at the "corrupt elites"
or, more darkly, at immigrants and marginalized groups. But anger doesn’t stay
confined for long. And the broom he promised would sweep the nation clean has
turned into a wrecking ball with no reverse gear.
To understand how we got here, we also have to confront an
uncomfortable truth: Trump didn’t emerge from nowhere. The decay in American
politics was already well underway—under leaders we once believed were
committed to democratic values. Presidents and congressional majorities from
both parties have helped drive this country into crushing debt while quietly
serving the interests of corporate donors, defense contractors, and Wall Street
firms. They wrapped their decisions in patriotic language while hollowing out
the economic stability of the very citizens they were elected to serve.
This long-standing betrayal has bred disillusionment and a
deepening mistrust of government—one that Trump skillfully exploits. Voters
have been pushed to make decisions not from confidence or hope, but from
fatigue and cynicism. When democracy repeatedly fails to deliver fairness, it’s
not surprising that some would prefer fury over function.
A friend of mine, who prides himself on being a “free
thinker,” recently told me that since America is already corrupt, Trump can’t
do much more harm. It’s a form of fatalism posing as logic: the ship is
sinking, so why not give the wheel to the guy with a drill?
That line of thinking misses something fundamental: it’s not
just corruption we’re dealing with now—it’s the corrosion of the democratic
framework itself. Under Trump, the rules are bending faster. Institutions are
politicized more openly. And cruelty is becoming a default rather than a bug.
Consider this: under his administration, a student on a legal
visa at the University of Minnesota was reportedly harassed for exercising
their right to free speech. This isn’t an isolated incident. It’s a symptom of
the authoritarian creep. The First Amendment, once the cornerstone of American
pride, is now treated as conditional—applied selectively, stripped of meaning.
We used to export our democratic ideals. Now, we’re exporting
warnings.
Foreign bureaucrats once came to the United States to study
how democracy worked at its best. But they often forget the context: before
World War II, America was not a global superpower. It was immigrants—engineers,
scientists, laborers—who helped turn this country’s vast resources into
national strength. Trump, born into wealth, has benefited from that
immigrant-built legacy while simultaneously dismantling its foundations. He
sells a version of America that credits its greatness to whiteness and fear,
rather than to effort and pluralism.
And millions are buying it.
Meanwhile, those who believe Trump’s policies will protect
“the real America” are often the first to feel the consequences. The
working-class voters who supported him are most vulnerable to cuts in
healthcare, environmental protections, and labor rights. They’re told they’re
winning, even as they quietly absorb the losses.
The bitter irony? Trumpism doesn’t eliminate corruption. It
supercharges it—while adding a layer of ruthlessness. It is corruption with a
clenched jaw and a spotlight. The kind that doesn’t just mismanage government
but punishes dissent. This isn’t tough love. It’s sabotage.
Some Trump supporters excuse it all by saying, “Well, the
whole world is corrupt.” But that misses the point. America’s power never came
just from its economy or military. It came from the belief—however imperfectly
lived—that this country could lead with principle. We used to be the
difference. Now, we are losing the voice that made that difference possible.
The most dangerous part? Many won’t realize what’s gone until
it’s far too quiet.
[Rakesh Sharma] is a political writer and activist focused on democracy, inequality, and systemic reform.
Twitter: @[#truthbetold]
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