Donald Trump’s second presidency has fractured American democracy in just its first 100 days. Decay is not inevitable, as history shows; but democratic renewal will require bold and decisive action.
By Chudi Okoye
If Thomas Jefferson – America’s third president and fierce champion of democracy who authored the 1776 Declaration of Independence – meant to strike fear into the fantasies of would-be autocrats in the newly formed country, he likely achieved it with a warning he issued on November 13, 1787. In a letter to William Stephens Smith, son-in-law of fellow founding father John Adams, Jefferson wrote what would become a canonical statement in defense of democracy:
“The tree of liberty must be refreshed from time to time with the blood of patriots and tyrants.”
Jefferson, whose vision helped forge the American experiment in self-government, made similar remarks in other writings, emphasizing the importance of democratic vigilance and the role of citizens in safeguarding their liberties. But his statement to Smith, made in the wake of Shays’s Rebellion, an armed revolt by farmers in western Massachusetts in 1786-87 against state tax policies and farm foreclosures, stands out in its audacity and revolutionary diction.
It is a remarkable statement, up there with Jefferson’s earlier assertion – which became part of America’s founding creed – that “all men are created equal.” The statement was likely inspired by the sentiments of the Constitutional Convention that had concluded two months earlier, culminating in the U.S. Constitution ratified in 1789.
In the more than two centuries that American democracy has endured, it has maintained a vigilant watch against tyrannical rule, though not at all times or for all peoples within its borders. There certainly have been deviations from the democratic ideal.
We are witnessing such a moment currently, with the creeping autocratization of American government under President Donald J. Trump. I have written plenty about this subject elsewhere (see here, here, and here, for instance).
The fire ignited by America’s angered slide into autocracy under Trump could burn down the country’s storied institutions and scorch budding democracies elsewhere. But if American democracy emerges from the current storm strengthened, it could once again become a beacon beckoning the world, showing there’s life after autocratic interregnum.
While the current autocratic trend may induce despair, not just in the U.S. but around the world, there is another fact of history that inspires hope. Human history reveals an arc bending toward liberty and self-government – indeed a dialectical logic of democratic erosion eventuating in democratic renewal. Though not always apparent, you might say that the roots of democracy are watered by the fearsome storms of tyranny. Nations are sometimes buffeted by tempests of tyrannical rule, but these can occasionally produce rains that seep into the very roots of liberty and nourish them toward democratic revival.
This is not in any way to counsel complacency, assuming some ineluctable law of democratic recovery. Most certainly not! After all, as the Economist’s Democracy Index shows, only about 6.6% of the world’s population lives in a full democracy. Of the rest, 38.4% resides in flawed democracies, 15.7% in hybrid regimes, and roughly 39.2% endures authoritarian rule. As Jean-Jacques Rousseau noted in the opening lines of The Social Contract (1762): “Man is born free, but everywhere he is in chains.”
Not all storms come with a downpour. There’s occasionally what meteorologists call a “dry thunderstorm,” which flashes with fury and fire but brings no rain. Similarly, tyranny can sometimes lead not to democratic renewal but to prolonged or even permanent democratic reversal.
The question is: what is the trajectory of America’s current storm under President Trump? History offers no guarantees – only warnings, and the rare precedent of democracies that weathered their own storms.
Erosion and Renewal
History shows that the march to freedom, far from being linear, is often a cycle of hope and disappointment, progress and regression. Across centuries and continents, democracies have proven both fragile and resilient, often tested by tempests of tyranny that threaten to uproot their foundations. Yet, time and again, these storms have also provided the conditions for renewal – though never automatically, or ever without struggle. This paradoxical dynamic reveals that the erosion of democracy can, at times, be the very catalyst for its eventual resurgence.
The story of democratic erosion and revival can be traced to ancient Athens, the cradle of democracy. In the aftermath of the devastating Peloponnesian War (431–404 BCE), Athens fell prey to internal strife and the rise of the Thirty Tyrants, an oligarchic regime that suspended the city’s democratic institutions from 404 to 403 BCE. For eight months, Athenians endured repression and purges. But the city’s democratic spirit was not extinguished. Through collective resistance and a yearning for self-rule, democracy was restored in 403 BCE. The trauma of tyranny led to reforms – such as the introduction of legal safeguards against demagoguery – that strengthened Athenian democracy for generations. Athens, after all, was a city-state that had learned the high cost of democracy’s fragility, a lesson that would reverberate through future generations.
The Roman Republic offers a cautionary tale, however. Beset by civil wars and the ambitions of powerful individuals, the Republic’s institutions buckled under the weight of crisis. Julius Caesar’s dictatorship (49–44 BCE), followed by Augustus’s rise as emperor (27 BCE–14 CE), marked the end of Rome’s republican experiment. Unlike Athens, Rome’s democracy did not recover; instead, it gave way to centuries of imperial rule. Yet, the memory of Roman republicanism would inspire later generations in their own struggles for liberty, demonstrating that the lessons of democratic collapse can persist long after the fall of a republic.
England’s political history is another vivid illustration. The absolutist tendencies of Charles I led to the English Civil Wars (1642–1651) and the temporary abolition of the monarchy. Oliver Cromwell’s Protectorate (1653–1659), though republican in name, soon devolved into autocracy. But the pendulum swung back. The Restoration of the monarchy in 1660, followed by the Glorious Revolution of 1688–1689, established the principle of parliamentary supremacy and enshrined rights that would become the bedrock of modern constitutional democracy. England’s saga serves as a reminder that democratic recovery can follow even the most turbulent of times.
America, too, has weathered its own storms. The end of the Civil War in 1865 brought the promise of Reconstruction (1865–1877), with new rights for formerly enslaved people. But this brief flowering of democracy was cut short by the rise of Jim Crow laws in the South, which enforced racial segregation and disenfranchisement from the late 19th century until the 1960s. It was only through the determined struggle of the Civil Rights Movement (1954–1968) that democracy was renewed, culminating in landmark legislation that restored and expanded the franchise. In this case, the renewal of American democracy came not by the victory of one faction, but by the collective will of marginalized citizens fighting for their rights. The struggle for justice, though painful and prolonged, revitalized the democratic ideal.
Across the Atlantic, France’s democratic journey was repeatedly interrupted by autocracy, as I indicated in my previous essays (here and here). The collapse of the Second Republic and the rise of Napoleon III’s Second Empire (1852–1870) marked a period of democratic eclipse. Yet, following his defeat in the Franco-Prussian War (1870–1871), the Third Republic was established between 1871 and 1875, laying the ground-work for modern French democracy. France’s experience underscores the point that even after a complete rupture, democracy can be rebuilt on new foundations, often with even stronger safeguards than before.
Germany’s 20th-century experience is perhaps the starkest example. The Weimar Republic, born in 1918, succumbed to economic crisis and extremist politics, paving the way for Hitler’s dictatorship through the Enabling Act of 1933. The Nazi era brought unbelievable horrors and the near-total destruction of democratic institutions. But West Germany rebuilt itself after World War II, emerging as the Federal Republic of Germany in 1949, its constitution based on principles that included strong safeguards against authoritarianism – a powerful testament to democracy’s capacity for rebirth after its darkest hour. This renewal, however, did not happen in a vacuum. The legacy of the Weimar Republic haunted the architects of its successor, prompting them to embed stronger constitutional safeguards and adopt a more cautious approach to democratic governance.
Even in later decades, this pattern persisted. In 1973, Chile’s democratically elected government was over-thrown in a military coup, ushering in a dictatorship that lasted until 1990. Brazil endured military autocracy from 1964 to 1985 before returning to democracy. In Eastern Europe, Hungary has experienced democratic backsliding since 2010, while Poland, after eight years of populist rule, saw a democratic rebound following the 2023 parliamentary election.
Across the African continent, similar cycles can be observed. Nigeria offers a particularly complex case. As I argued in a recent essay, since independence in 1960 the country has limped from “khaki to kakistocracy” – from military rule to a flawed civilian orthodoxy – though there remains a deep yearning for the democratic ideal.
The lesson is clear: the survival of democracy is never guaranteed. Each generation must confront its own storms – some bringing renewal, others leaving only destruction. The roots of democracy, as history shows, are watered not just by the gentle rains of progress, but sometimes by the fierce storms of tyranny. Whether these storms nourish new growth or leave lasting scars depends on the courage, vigilance, and wisdom of those who weather them.
America’s Current Challenge
IThe United States under President Trump’s second presidency presents an interesting test case for these historical tensions. We’ve already seen a staggering number of challenges to American democracy in just the first 100 days of the administration (marked on April 29). The signs of erosion are no longer subtle; nor, it seems, are they intended to be. The administration’s actions are causing concern about the weakening of institutional checks and the fraying of democratic norms that once seemed unassailable. In what follows, I’ll quickly retrace the trends in Trump’s autocratic mission (he notably declared mid-campaign in 2023 that he would be a dictator if re-elected, though seemingly only “on day one”), and then examine the tentative shoots of democratic resistance that may yet lead to renewal.
The breadth of Trump’s brazen assaults on American democracy is nothing short of breathtaking. Having grown up under military rule in my native country, Nigeria, I see echoes of that clime in Trump’s America. A U.S.-based Egyptian-American writer for The Guardian, Mona Eltahawy, made a similar point recently, comparing the U.S. to her authoritarian native country. These are fascinating, but unflattering, comparisons.
President Trump’s authoritarian playbook, honed during his first term and now executed with vigor in his second, has targeted nearly every pillar of American democracy. The electoral process is one of them. From the outset, in all three elections which he contested, Trump sought to delegitimize the process except where favored by the outcome: not committing to conceding if he lost in 2016; refusing to concede in 2020 when he actually lost; instigating the January 6, 2021 insurrection to prevent election certification, following efforts to foul the electoral process; boycotting Joe Biden’s inauguration, in continued disdain for the transfer of power; and once again in 2024, threatening to reject the election results, except if he won. Not the least troubling, Trump vulgarizes the political culture, denigrating opponents with unbecoming insults, branding critics “enemies of the people,” threatening to prosecute political opponents, and weaponizing federal agencies to pursue personal vendettas. He’s even mulling a third term, in this way mauling the provision and spirit of the constitution.
During the 2024 presidential campaign, Trump denied any knowledge of the Heritage Foundation’s Project 2025 initiative, designed to reshape the U.S. federal government and consolidate executive power in favor of right-wing policies. Yet, back in office, he has largely followed the blueprint. Media analyses showed that about two-thirds of his first flush of executive orders mirrored the Project 2025 playbook. So far, just 100 days in, Trump has issued an estimated 140 executive orders, far more than any predecessor. Though most of the orders are of dubious legality, they have enabled him to bypass Congress and basically rule by diktat – not unlike military decrees in authoritarian jurisdictions.
With his self-acquired powers, Trump has unleashed himself across vast areas of policy, taking a blizzard of executive actions without the slightest legislative check. He has wrested control of spending from Congress, unilaterally defunding programs and entire agencies. He’s taken control of hitherto independent agencies, demanding direct reporting to the White House and putting stooges in charge. He initiated massive – often cruel but cack-handed – layoff of federal employees, his Gestapo-like Department of Government Efficiency forcing access to sensitive government databases to identify programs for elimination. His alien deportations are not limited, as promised on the hustings, to illegal immigrants. He has also targeted legal immigrants (even naturalized citizens), deporting hundreds to a Gulag-like prison in El Salvador without due process, on pretext they’re gang members. Border controls are more severe, and surveillance has been intensified. He’s attempting to revoke birthright citizenship, contravening the Constitution. College students who protest Israel’s genocidal war on Gaza are arrested, visas for participating foreign students revoked. He is aggressively eliminating diversity programs, apparently trying to make America White again. Bypassing Congress, he has imposed high tariffs on U.S. trading partners, triggering massive stock-market sell-offs and threatening a possible stagflation. Above all, like third-world tyrants, he has engaged in brazen self-dealing and corruption, using all manner of schemes to monetize his office and enrich his family.
As Trump consolidates power, deploying it with shock and awe, he has sought to muzzle constraining or competing institutions. Congress is neutered; corporate entities are shaken down; leading universities are defunded; media outlets threatened or sued; leading law firms are compromised; and the judiciary is hobbled, with dissenting judges vilified or threatened, a few already arrested.
You wouldn’t believe the overreach, if it weren’t happening. Trump’s America certainly isn’t Ronald Reagan’s “shining city upon a hill.”
Yet, despite its fury and fearsome determination, Trump’s power grab hasn’t gone unchallenged. The dialectic of autocratic ambition rousing democratic resistance is unmistakable. The judiciary has blocked over 100 presidential actions, defending constitutional limits. States and cities have mounted legal and legislative resistance; some federal agencies are pushing back; civil society has rallied through lawsuits, protests, and grassroots organizing. Universities and law firms are suing to preserve their independence. The media, bruised but unbowed, continues to expose abuses, often aided by whistleblowers. Civil society is roused, and resistance is rising.
Though battered by the Trumpian storm, America’s tree of liberty endures, its rugged roots resilient even as autocratic winds lash its branches. Jefferson saw those roots refreshed by the blood of patriots and tyrants; today, they are nourished by the vigilance and courage of citizens. Whether this tempest will terminate remains uncertain. Yet as history shows, the fiercest storms can drive roots deeper, making the prospect of post-Trump renewal – a boon for America and the world – a distinct possibility.
