Here’s a blog version that keeps the frustration and the perspective of watching America from abroad, while sharpening the argument around the midterms and election trust.

News From Afar

Being on an extended work trip through Latin America and now Europe has given me a somewhat unique perspective on the American presidency and the state of our country.

Sometimes you see home a little more clearly when you’re standing somewhere else.

And right now, from over here, America looks strange.

Americans are dealing with rising prices. Inflation remains stubbornly above the Federal Reserve’s target, with tariffs and the war with Iran among the pressures being felt in the economy. (AP News⁠)

Families notice it at the grocery store. Businesses notice it when they order supplies. Travelers notice it. Everyone notices it.

Meanwhile, the President of the United States seems laser-focused on…other things.

His ballroom.

Renovating Washington.

Putting his name on things.

Gold trim and presidential seals.

And now, apparently, renaming Lake Ontario “Lake America.”

Yes. Really.

President Trump signed an executive order today directing the federal government to call Lake Ontario “Lake America.” Of course, Canada is under absolutely no obligation to call it that. (Reuters⁠)

And neither, frankly, is anyone else in normal conversation.

No one is going to call it that, Donald.

And while we’re talking about executive orders, can we talk about the way Trump signs them? Every signing ceremony ends the same way. He holds up the document with that enormous black-marker signature and displays it to the cameras like a kindergartener who has just finished his latest masterpiece. “Look what I made!” Very nice, Donald. Beautiful use of the Sharpie. We’ll put it right on the refrigerator next to the finger painting and the macaroni picture. The only difference is that when a five-year-old proudly shows you his artwork, it usually hasn’t just changed federal policy.

There is something almost comical about all of this—until you remember that there are some decidedly unfunny things happening at the same time.

The one I am watching most closely is the attack on mail-in voting.

Don’t be fooled into thinking this is simply about mail-in ballots.

It isn’t.

Trump’s executive order would significantly expand federal involvement in determining who receives mail ballots and how states administer them. The Postal Service has now begun implementing new requirements while states are challenging them in court, just weeks before voting begins in the midterm elections. (Reuters⁠)

And remember: Trump himself has voted by mail.

So I don’t believe the real objective is eliminating mail-in voting.

The objective is distrust.

Create doubt about the system.

Tell people repeatedly that elections are insecure.

Tell them voter rolls cannot be trusted.

Tell them mail ballots cannot be trusted.

Tell them election officials cannot be trusted.

Then, if November doesn’t go your way, the groundwork has already been laid.

“The election was stolen.”

We have seen this movie before.

What concerns me now is that this time Trump is not simply a candidate complaining about an election system from the outside. He is the sitting President of the United States, with the machinery of the federal government at his disposal.

That makes this different.

The Constitution gives states—and, in federal elections, Congress—central roles in setting election rules. That is precisely why Trump’s attempts to impose new national voting requirements through executive power have generated such significant constitutional challenges. (The White House⁠)

My greatest concern isn’t merely that Trump will complain that another election was “stolen.”

We’ve already lived through that.

My concern is what happens after he makes that claim.

What happens if the midterms go badly for Republicans?

What happens if control of Congress changes hands?

What happens if the President declares some results illegitimate?

What happens if federal agencies are pressured to intervene?

What happens if we reach a point where Americans aren’t arguing about who won an election, but whether the government will accept the results of one?

That is the line we cannot cross.

And here’s the uncomfortable perspective you get when you spend significant time outside the United States:

People are watching us.

I talk to people in Mexico, Italy and elsewhere in Europe. They read our news. They follow our elections. They ask questions about what is happening in Washington.

And sometimes I don’t have a very good answer.

For most of my life, Americans grew up hearing that the United States was the envy of the world.

The stable democracy.

The economic powerhouse.

The country with institutions strong enough to survive political disagreements.

The place where presidents come and go but the system endures.

We shouldn’t assume that reputation is permanent.

It isn’t.

From afar, some of what is happening in America doesn’t look powerful.

It looks petty.

A president feuding with Canada while renaming a shared Great Lake after America. A $400 million White House ballroom project caught up in litigation over presidential authority. Political fights over whose name gets carved into buildings. (Reuters⁠)

These are the things occupying our national conversation while Americans worry about the cost of living, housing, healthcare, education, infrastructure and their children’s future.

And while the basic machinery of our democracy is being questioned again.

The United States used to be the unquestioned envy of much of the world.

Today?

I’m sorry.

It isn’t.

That doesn’t mean America is finished.

Far from it.

But patriotism isn’t pretending everything your country does is wonderful. Patriotism is caring enough about your country to recognize when it is falling short of what it claims to be.

America has always been an unfinished project.

Every generation inherits it.

Every generation gets a chance to improve it—or damage it.

Right now, we need to decide which generation we are going to be.

Because the world is watching.

And more importantly, our children are watching.

We can do better.

We have to do better.

Street with houses, dry palm trees, water tanks, and signs warning about critical drought and water saving

American Citizens in Puerto Rico: The Fight for Basic Needs

Puerto Rico: We Need to Do Better

Street with houses, dry palm trees, water tanks, and signs warning about critical drought and water saving
People walk in a neighborhood showing signs about critical water shortage.

I am heading to Puerto Rico to work with gymnasts and coaches at a training camp. I have been fortunate to travel to Puerto Rico before, and I am looking forward to being back on the island, doing what I love—working with these coaches and athletes.

But this trip comes at a very different moment.

And I keep coming back to one simple thought:

Puerto Rico is in the middle of a severe drought. Water is being rationed, with some communities facing rotating periods of 48 hours without running water. The situation is serious enough that more than 180,000 people are affected by current rationing, and federal drought officials are warning that the dry conditions could continue into the fall.

Puerto Ricans are Americans.

They are U.S. citizens.

They deserve to be treated like it.

Puerto Rico is a U.S. territory. The people who live there are not somehow less American because they live on an island. Yet when disaster strikes—or when infrastructure fails, debt overwhelms the government, or drought threatens the water supply—we seem to find endless reasons why helping Puerto Rico has to be more complicated than helping Americans on the mainland.

That isn’t good enough.

This Isn’t Just About a Drought

The drought is real. We cannot blame the federal government for a lack of rain.

But the drought is exposing a much bigger problem.

Puerto Rico has spent years dealing with aging infrastructure, enormous financial challenges, and a complicated federal bureaucracy. The island’s water authority, PRASA, has reported that roughly 65% of the water it produces is lost through leaking pipes, overflows, and other problems before it reaches customers.

Think about that.

We are asking people to conserve water during a historic drought while the system itself is losing an enormous amount of the water it produces.

That is not simply a weather problem.

It is an infrastructure problem.

And it is a government problem.

A Financial Trap

After Puerto Rico’s financial crisis, Congress passed PROMESA in 2016 and created a Financial Oversight and Management Board with sweeping authority over Puerto Rico’s finances. The law was designed to restore fiscal responsibility and access to capital markets, but it also fundamentally changed the relationship between Puerto Rico’s elected government and the people overseeing its finances.

There is a legitimate argument for fiscal discipline. Governments have to live within their means. Debts have to be dealt with.

But there is something fundamentally wrong when a government that does not have the financial capacity to rebuild essential infrastructure is simultaneously constrained by a system that makes it extraordinarily difficult to get that infrastructure rebuilt.

It becomes a vicious circle.

You need money to rebuild.

You don’t have the money.

Federal funds are available, but accessing and spending them can involve complicated requirements and reimbursement processes.

Construction costs go up while projects wait.

And the longer you wait, the more expensive everything becomes.

The Government Accountability Office has documented problems with FEMA’s fixed-cost approach to Puerto Rico’s disaster-recovery projects, including the risk that rising construction costs can leave local governments facing significant funding gaps.

That isn’t a recipe for rebuilding.

It’s a recipe for delay.

We Can’t Keep Treating Puerto Rico as Somebody Else’s Problem

This is where I have a problem with the way we talk about Puerto Rico.

Too often, the conversation becomes a political argument about who is to blame.

Democrats blame Republicans.

Republicans blame Democrats.

Puerto Rico’s government blames Washington.

Washington blames Puerto Rico’s government.

The oversight board blames fiscal mismanagement.

Critics blame the oversight board.

And while everyone is arguing, people still don’t have reliable water.

Enough.

At some point, we have to stop looking for someone to blame and start looking for ways to fix the problem.

Because the people living without water don’t care which political party gets the credit.

They need the water turned back on.

What Would We Do If This Were New Hampshire?

I live in Dover, New Hampshire. Anyone who has driven through town sees all the infrastructure work going on. As a city councilor, my email and text messages are filled with legitimate complaints about parking, construction noise, and traffic flow associated with these projects.

They say, “Why is all this work going on at the same time?!”

The answer is simple: we deferred maintenance far too long.

If a city in New Hampshire suddenly lost access to basic water service, we wouldn’t tell the residents to be patient while Washington, the state government, the city government, and a financial oversight board argued over who was responsible.

We would mobilize.

We would find the money.

We would fix the pipes.

We would get people water.

And then we would figure out who screwed up.

Puerto Rico deserves that same sense of urgency.

Not because Puerto Rico is perfect.

It isn’t.

Not because every decision made by the Puerto Rican government has been correct.

It hasn’t.

And not because the federal government bears responsibility for every problem on the island.

It doesn’t.

But because three million-plus American citizens live there.

And basic infrastructure isn’t a luxury.

Clean water isn’t a political favor.

Reliable electricity isn’t a reward for good fiscal management.

They are necessities.

We Have to Break the Cycle

There are real policy questions that need to be addressed.

FEMA needs to make disaster-recovery funding more accessible and predictable, particularly for communities that simply cannot finance enormous projects while waiting years for reimbursement.

Federal officials and the oversight board need to recognize that fiscal responsibility cannot mean allowing essential infrastructure to deteriorate further.

And Congress needs to look honestly at whether the rules governing Puerto Rico actually help the island become financially sustainable—or whether some of those rules make recovery harder.

Most importantly, the federal government needs to treat Puerto Rico’s infrastructure needs with the urgency we would expect for an American community on the mainland.

That means water.

It means electricity.

It means roads, bridges, schools, and hospitals.

It means giving local governments the ability to actually use the resources that have been made available for rebuilding.

I Don’t Want to Arrive in Puerto Rico and Just Talk About the Problem

I am going to Puerto Rico to coach and teach.

I will be in a gym with young athletes who are working to become better gymnasts and aspire to make an Olympic team. I will be working with coaches who care deeply about their athletes and their communities.

That is what I want to focus on.

But I also don’t want to pretend that what happens outside the gym doesn’t matter.

A coach can teach a young person discipline, resilience, and confidence.

But there are limits to what resilience should be asked to overcome.

Nobody should have to be resilient enough to live without reliable water.

Nobody should have to be resilient enough to accept a failing electrical system as normal.

Nobody should have to be resilient enough to watch their community’s future disappear because bureaucracy and politics make rebuilding impossible.

Puerto Rico doesn’t need our pity.

It needs partnership.

It needs investment.

It needs competent government at every level.

And above all, it needs to be treated as what it is:

part of America.

We can argue about Puerto Rico’s ultimate political status. We can debate statehood, independence, or the current territorial relationship.

But we shouldn’t need to settle that argument before agreeing on something much more basic:

American citizens deserve clean water, reliable power, and the opportunity to build a future.

As I head to Puerto Rico, that is what I will be thinking about.

I am going there to work with athletes and coaches.

I hope I can also come home having learned more about the people of Puerto Rico, their resilience, and their determination to build something better.

Because they deserve better.

And frankly, we should be better.

Patriotism Belongs to All of Us

For too long, Democrats, independents, democratic socialists, and anyone who believes in an inclusive America have surrendered one of the most powerful words in our language: patriotism.

It’s time to take it back.

Somewhere along the way, a political movement convinced millions of Americans that waving the flag, wearing red, white, and blue, and proclaiming love of country belonged exclusively to one side of the political spectrum. It doesn’t. It never did.

I refuse to surrender the American flag to a movement that too often uses it as a prop rather than a promise.

Because when I look at that flag, I don’t see one man. I don’t see one political party. I don’t see one religion or one race or one ideology.

I see the first three words of our Constitution:

We the People.

Not “We the Republicans.”

Not “We the Democrats.”

Not “We the MAGA faithful.”

We the People.

That simple phrase is perhaps the most radical democratic idea ever written. It says that this nation belongs to all of us, not just those who agree with whoever occupies the White House.

Real patriotism isn’t measured by how loudly you chant “USA.”

It’s measured by whether you believe every American deserves the same rights, the same opportunities, and the same dignity.

That is why I reject the idea that progressive values are somehow “un-American.”

Public education? That’s patriotism. An educated citizenry is the backbone of a democracy.

Scientific research? Patriotism. America led the world because we invested in knowledge.

Protecting our national parks? Patriotism. We preserve what previous generations entrusted to us.

Supporting veterans after they return home? Patriotism.

Standing up for workers? Patriotism.

Protecting Social Security and Medicare? Patriotism.

Defending the right to vote? Patriotism.

Welcoming immigrants who believe in the American dream? Patriotism. Unless your family descends from Native Americans, your story began with someone who came here seeking something better.

Standing up for the rule of law—even when it is politically inconvenient? That is patriotism.

Supporting a free press that can challenge those in power? Patriotism.

Defending the Constitution rather than demanding loyalty to a single individual? That may be the highest form of patriotism there is.

By contrast, I struggle to understand how demanding unquestioning loyalty to one political leader can be described as patriotic.

Patriotism isn’t blind obedience.

It isn’t pretending elections only count when your side wins.

It isn’t attacking judges because they rule against you.

It isn’t dismissing the Constitution when it becomes inconvenient.

It isn’t threatening political opponents or journalists.

It certainly isn’t redefining loyalty to America as loyalty to one man.

A republic survives only when its citizens remain loyal to the principles that created it—not to personalities.

This country has never been perfect. It wasn’t perfect in 1776. It wasn’t perfect during the Civil War. It wasn’t perfect during Jim Crow. It wasn’t perfect when women couldn’t vote. It wasn’t perfect when LGBTQ Americans were denied equal rights.

But generation after generation, Americans expanded the promise of “We the People.”

That is the American story.

Not perfection.

Progress.

Not exclusion.

Expansion.

Not fear.

Hope.

As a city councilor, as a business owner, as a coach who has represented this country overseas, I’ve often been asked what makes America special.

It isn’t that we’re flawless.

It’s that we have always aspired to become better than we were yesterday.

That aspiration belongs to Lincoln.

To Roosevelt.

To Eisenhower.

To Kennedy.

To King.

To every soldier who defended our Constitution.

To every teacher who opens a classroom door.

To every volunteer who serves a meal.

To every citizen who votes.

Patriotism isn’t ownership.

It’s stewardship.

So here’s my challenge to everyone who shares progressive values.

Stop apologizing for loving your country.

Fly the flag.

Stand for the anthem if you choose.

Celebrate Independence Day.

Teach your children American history—all of it, the triumphs and the failures—because loving your country enough to tell the truth about it is more patriotic than pretending it has never made mistakes.

Do not let anyone tell you that compassion is weakness.

That inclusion is un-American.

That democracy is optional.

Or that patriotism belongs exclusively to one movement.

It doesn’t.

The American flag belongs to every citizen.

And every time I see it, I want to be reminded of those three extraordinary words that define who we are and who we are still striving to become:

We the People.

That flag should never stand for one man.

It should always stand for all of us.

Watergate vs. Today’s Political Climate

When Watergate Looks Cute

Yesterday I flew back from a work trip in Iceland.

One of the interesting things about traveling internationally is that people inevitably ask questions about America. They ask about our politics, our economy, our culture, and increasingly, Donald Trump. This wasn’t the first time I’ve found myself trying to explain the Trump administration to people overseas, and I’m sure it won’t be the last.

The question is usually some variation of the same thing:

“How can Americans allow this to happen?”

It’s a fair question.

The uncomfortable answer is that many Americans aren’t allowing it. Millions of us have voted against it repeatedly. Millions more have protested it, written about it, organized against it, and warned about it. But our system was designed with checks and balances that require institutions to do their jobs.

Right now, Congress largely isn’t.

The founders envisioned Congress as a co-equal branch of government capable of checking presidential power. Instead, it has become increasingly polarized, increasingly dysfunctional, and increasingly unwilling to challenge presidents from its own party.

The growth of executive power didn’t start with Donald Trump. Every administration since Reagan has expanded the authority of the presidency in one way or another. Democrats did it. Republicans did it. Congress often stood by and watched.

Trump simply took that trend and put it on steroids. Like everything he does, he turned it up to 11.

On the flight home, I was looking for something to have on as background noise while finishing some work on my laptop. I settled on All the President’s Men, the classic film about the Watergate scandal.

Movie poster for 'All The President's Men' featuring two men in suits looking serious, with a background of newspaper text.

I hadn’t seen it in more than a decade. As the movie played, I found myself thinking something I never expected to think: Watergate almost looked cute.

Not because it wasn’t serious. It was. Nixon’s operatives infiltrated the Democratic Party, engaged in political espionage, and attempted to manipulate an election. The cover-up ultimately brought down a president.

At the time, Americans were horrified.

Republicans and Democrats alike eventually concluded that what Nixon had done was unacceptable. Members of his own party confronted him. The institutions worked. The rule of law prevailed.

Front page of The Washington Post from June 19, 1972, featuring headlines about the Watergate scandal, including 'GOP Security Aide Among 5 Arrested In Bugging Affair' and 'FBI Finds Nixon Aides Sabotaged Democrats'.

Now compare that to where we are today.

A sitting president lost an election and spent months spreading lies about voter fraud. Those lies culminated in a violent attack on the United States Capitol on January 6, 2021. A mob assaulted police officers, smashed windows, hunted elected officials, and attempted to stop the peaceful transfer of power that has defined American democracy for nearly 250 years.

A large crowd of protesters gathering outside a building, some holding flags, while smoke fills the air and police are present on the upper levels.
FILE PHOTO: Police release tear gas into a crowd of pro-Trump protesters during clashes at a rally to contest the certification of the 2020 U.S. presidential election results by the U.S. Congress, at the U.S. Capitol Building in Washington, U.S, January 6, 2021. REUTERS/Shannon Stapleton/File Photo

Think about that for a moment.

Watergate involved burglars breaking into an office building. January 6 involved thousands of people attacking the Capitol itself!

Yet somehow, in today’s political environment, the latter is treated by many as a partisan disagreement rather than an assault on democracy.

Many participants were investigated, prosecuted, and convicted. Then Trump returned to office and pardoned them! That is INSANE! Not just because I do not agree with it. BUT A SITTING PRESIDENT WHO TALKED ABOUT LAND AND ORDER PARDONED PEOPLE WHO ASSAULTED POLICE OFFICERS. Now Trump and his allies have even discussed mechanisms to compensate participants for what they describe as unjust prosecutions.

You can’t justify that to your neighbor here. Can you imagine explaining that to someone in Iceland? How can the generation who lived through Watergate explain it to themselves?

The alarming reality is that the scandal that brought down Nixon would barely survive a single news cycle today. I find that terrifying.

The corruption isn’t just the actions themselves. It is the normalization of behavior that previous generations would have found unthinkable.

  • Conflicts of interest that would have triggered investigations are now shrugged off.
  • Attempts to pressure institutions are dismissed as politics.
  • Open attacks on judges, prosecutors, journalists, and civil servants have become routine.
  • The outrage has been exhausted.
  • The public has become numb.

That may be Trump’s greatest achievement—not convincing Americans that corruption is acceptable, but convincing many that it is inevitable.

I don’t believe that. I cannot accept that.

I still believe most Americans, regardless of party, want honest government. I still believe most Americans value the Constitution more than any politician. I still believe most Americans understand that loyalty to a country must always come before loyalty to a leader.

But belief isn’t enough.

The institutions that protect democracy only work when the people inside them have the courage to defend them.

Congress was designed to be one of those institutions.

Right now, it is failing that test. And until it finds the courage to act like a co-equal branch of government again, Americans will continue finding themselves overseas, trying to explain the unexplainable.

Trying to answer a question that becomes harder every day:

How did we get to the point where Watergate looks small?

More importantly, what are we going to do about it?

Congress must start acting like an independent branch of government again, not a cheering section for whichever party happens to hold power. Lawmakers of both parties need to remember that their oath is to the Constitution, not to a president, a party leader, or a political movement. Oversight is not optional. Accountability is not partisan. Defending democratic institutions is the job they were elected to do.

And for the rest of us, the responsibility is just as real.

We cannot afford to reward cowardice. We cannot keep sending politicians back to Washington who remain silent when principles are tested. Whether you are a Democrat, Republican, Independent, or something else entirely, demand more from the people who ask for your vote.

Vote for people with the backbone to tell their own side when it is wrong. Vote for people who will defend the rule of law even when it is politically inconvenient. Vote for people who put country before party and Constitution before career.

Because if enough Americans do that, then maybe someday the question people ask overseas will change.

Instead of asking how Americans allowed this to happen, they might ask how Americans found the courage to stop it.

The growing concentration of power in the presidency will not be solved by the White House alone—it requires Congress to step up and fulfill its constitutional responsibilities. This fall, voters have an opportunity to demand that change. If you are unhappy with the direction of the country, make your voice heard at the ballot box. As I travel, I find myself increasingly frustrated trying to explain the state of American politics. I remember when conversations about the United States centered on its innovation, opportunity, and democratic ideals. Today, too often, those discussions are overshadowed by concerns about political dysfunction, corruption, and a government that seems unable or unwilling to address the challenges facing the nation.

And – NO. I am not running for anything.

Smiling man in a blue blazer and white shirt seated, with a dark background.

America at 250

My work has me traveling to other countries quite frequently (I am actually writing this from Iceland). I am proud to be an American, but it has become harder and harder to explain where we are at.

I have never read a more brutally honest assessment of who we are and what we’ve become.

OLIVER KORNETZKE

250 years. Two hundred and fifty fucking years of the most powerful, most resourced, most theoretically capable nation in the history of human civilization and here is what we have to show for it.

Forty million people on food stamps, thirty million without health insurance, the highest maternal mortality rate in the developed world, the highest incarceration rate on earth, an opioid crisis that has killed over half a million people and counting, a housing market so broken that working people cannot afford to live in the cities they work in, an education system that buries young people in debt before they earn their first dollar, infrastructure that is literally collapsing, a life expectancy that is going backwards, a political system so thoroughly purchased by concentrated wealth that the laws it produces bear almost no relationship to what the public actually wants or needs, a working class that has not seen meaningful real wage growth in thirty years, a mental health crisis so severe we normalized it, a gun violence epidemic so routine we don’t even act when preschoolers are slaughtered, and a climate hurtling toward catastrophe while the people paid to address it collect checks from the industry causing it.

Two hundred and fifty years of that. And to celebrate, we built a wrestling arena on the White House lawn.

Not a hospital, or a school, or a housing development. Not a single fucking thing that addresses a single goddamn item on the list above. A wrestling arena. With cranes and pyrotechnics and a steel arch that probably cost more than the annual budget of three rural counties combined, erected in front of the building where Lincoln and Roosevelt and every president who ever tried to make any of this mean something once lived and worked and in some cases died trying.

Truthfully, this is not a departure from American values. This is the fullest possible expression of them. Because this is what we chose. Every single time the choice was presented.

We built a culture where a football coach makes forty times what a physics professor makes and then express genuine bewilderment at the outcomes. Where a reality television star becomes president and a school district cuts its art program in the same fiscal year. Where children know every statistic of every player on their favorite sport team and cannot locate their own country on a map. Where scientific consensus on vaccines, climate, evolution, and basic nutrition gets weighed against a Facebook post and the Facebook post wins at the dinner table. Where the school that wins the state championship gets a parade and the school that produces a Nobel laureate gets a budget cut.

We chose the bomber over the teacher. The tank over the clinic. The aircraft carrier over the water treatment plant. We spend more on military than the next ten countries combined, including our allies, while veterans sleep on the streets of the cities they came back to. We built the most expensive killing apparatus in human history and then told the nurse she made too much money. We sent young men to die in wars that made defense contractors rich and called it freedom and put a yellow ribbon magnet on the back of the car and called that support. We made the soldier and the police officer into sacred untouchable symbols of national identity and then cut their benefits, denied their PTSD claims, let them die waiting for VA appointments, and sent them back for third and fourth tours because it was cheaper than taking care of them when they came home. We worshipped the uniform and neglected the human inside it because the uniform is a symbol and symbols are cheaper than healthcare and housing and the therapy that would actually help. We built bases in a hundred and fifty countries and could not build enough affordable housing in fifty states. We funded a military budget that could have ended homelessness and medical debt and student debt several times over and we did it with bipartisan enthusiasm and called the people who questioned it unserious.

We chose entertainment over education so many times and for so long and at every available level of society that we forgot there was a distinction worth making. Spectacle over substance, performance over policy, the aesthetics of greatness in place of the actual thing, and the feeling of winning instead of asking what was being won and who was paying for it and what it would cost the people who came next.

Rome had bread and circuses. We Americans have food stamps and a wrestling ring outside the Oval Office.

250 years. This is what we built. This is what we chose. This is what we are celebrating. And the most perfectly, catastrophically, irreducibly American thing about all of it is that anyone pointing at this image and asking what it means will be called unpatriotic by people watching it on a television they bought on credit they cannot afford to pay back, rooting for a sport they cannot explain, in a country they cannot describe, celebrating a birthday they cannot contextualize, for a nation that has spent two and a half centuries confusing the noise it makes with the work it never did, all while claiming to be the greatest country on Earth.

Happy Birthday America! You have never looked more like yourself!

Citizenship Requires More Than Blind Loyalty

Maybe It’s Not Trump Derangement Syndrome After All

Every time I criticize Donald Trump, someone inevitably tells me I suffer from “Trump Derangement Syndrome.”

The accusation usually goes something like this: “Why can’t you acknowledge the good things he’s done?”

Fair question.

As a business owner for more than three decades, a coach who has spent a lifetime teaching accountability, and a city councilor responsible for spending taxpayer dollars wisely, I believe in giving credit where credit is due. If someone does something well, I will say so. If a policy works, I will acknowledge it.

But leadership isn’t judged by a handful of talking points. It is judged by character, integrity, competence, and whether the person in charge is working for the people or for themselves.

That’s where my concerns begin.

Supporters often point to immigration enforcement, NATO spending, tariffs, or cultural issues as evidence of Trump’s success. We can have legitimate policy debates about any of those topics. Reasonable people can disagree.

What troubles me is something deeper.

It is the corruption.

It is the constant blurring of the line between public service and personal profit.

As a city councilor, if I voted on matters that directly enriched my business interests, people would rightly demand answers. If city contracts consistently benefited my friends, family, or financial partners, residents would be outraged. They should be.

The same standard should apply to the President of the United States.

Yet we have become numb to behavior that would be unacceptable from virtually any other elected official.

The Trump family has expanded its business interests while Trump occupies the Oval Office. Cryptocurrency ventures, real estate projects, private fundraising efforts, and relationships with wealthy donors all seem to intersect with public policy decisions in ways that should concern anyone who believes government should serve the public first.

This isn’t a Republican issue or a Democratic issue.

It’s an ethics issue.

It’s a leadership issue.

It’s an accountability issue.

What concerns me even more is the growing use of government power against perceived enemies. In America, we are supposed to settle political disagreements at the ballot box, not through investigations designed to intimidate critics or punish opponents.

One of the great strengths of our democracy has always been that no one is above the law—but equally important, no one should be beneath its protection.

The machinery of government should never become a personal weapon.

As a coach, I often tell athletes that character is revealed when nobody is watching.

As a businessman, I’ve learned that trust takes years to build and moments to destroy.

As a city councilor, I’ve learned that public confidence is fragile and must be earned every day.

Those same principles apply to presidents.

I understand why many Americans voted for Donald Trump. They were frustrated by rising costs, worried about immigration, concerned about national security, and convinced Washington wasn’t listening.

Those concerns are real.

But voting for someone to solve problems does not require blind loyalty.

In fact, patriotism demands the opposite.

We should expect results.

We should demand honesty.

We should insist on transparency.

And we should be willing to call out misconduct regardless of whether it comes from our political opponents or from people we supported.

That’s not Trump Derangement Syndrome.

That’s citizenship.

The real question isn’t why some of us continue to criticize Donald Trump.

The real question is why so many people have stopped holding him to the same standards they would apply to anyone else.

Last night, I attended the Dover High School graduation as a city councilor. As I watched those young men and women cross the stage, I found myself thinking less about today’s political battles and more about the world we are leaving them.

These graduates are entering adulthood at a time of declining trust in institutions, growing political division, and leaders too often focused on winning arguments instead of solving problems. Yet I left hopeful. Every generation inherits challenges. Mine inherited the Cold War, economic uncertainty, and environmental concerns. Today’s graduates face different problems, but they possess the same capacity for innovation, courage, and change.

What struck me most was that the future belongs to them, not the politicians dominating today’s headlines. They will be the entrepreneurs creating jobs, the teachers inspiring children, the healthcare workers saving lives, the public servants strengthening communities, and the citizens shaping America’s future.

That reality places a responsibility on us. We should model integrity, accountability, and respect for democratic institutions. We should show that public service is about serving others, not ourselves, and leave behind examples worth following.

Someday these graduates will sit in city council chambers, state legislatures, corporate boardrooms, and perhaps even the halls of Congress. The question is whether we are giving them a model of leadership worth inheriting.

America Can’t Afford Trump’s Ego

  • The Price of Narcissism

There is a difference between political loyalty and political worship. One is healthy in a democracy. The other is dangerous.

What we are witnessing with Donald Trump and much of the MAGA movement no longer resembles normal politics. It resembles a cult of personality. Every failure is someone else’s fault. Every criticism is labeled “fake news.” Every warning from economists, generals, historians, judges, or former allies is dismissed as betrayal. The movement has become centered not around conservative principles, fiscal responsibility, or even patriotism—but around protecting one man’s ego.

And while the cheering crowds chant his name and wear the hats and wave the flags, ordinary Americans are getting poorer.

Trump was elected promising economic strength. Instead, families are watching grocery bills climb, paying painful prices at the gas pump, and struggling with the rising cost of basic goods. His reckless tariff obsessions drove up prices for consumers and businesses alike. His aggressive foreign policy rhetoric and impulsive leadership helped drag the country into another conflict after promising “NO MORE WARS.” Once again, working Americans pay the price while politicians and defense contractors profit.

This is the pattern of narcissistic leadership throughout history: the leader’s image always comes first.

While Americans worry about rent, mortgages, and retirement savings, Trump obsesses over monuments to himself. A ballroom project taxpayers will ultimately subsidize. Talk of a triumphal arch in Washington, D.C., as if America should imitate emperors instead of republics. Vanity projects nobody asked for while roads crumble, schools struggle, and healthcare costs bury families. Reports of unnecessary no-bid contracts handed to friends for cosmetic projects around Washington only reinforce what many Americans already suspect: this administration treats public money like a personal checking account for political loyalty and ego.

And yet his followers defend every bit of it.

Not because it helps them.

Not because their lives are improving.

But because cults require loyalty above reason.

A movement that once claimed to stand for fiscal conservatism now cheers deficit spending if Trump does it. A movement that once screamed about government overreach now applauds when law-abiding immigrants, students, or political opponents are targeted to feed outrage cycles on cable news and social media. A movement that once called itself anti-war now rationalizes another conflict because admitting failure would mean admitting Trump was wrong.

That is the power of narcissism when combined with political tribalism. Truth becomes secondary. Loyalty becomes everything.

The saddest part is this: Donald Trump has shown people exactly who he is for years. He has openly spoken about admiring wealth over service, loyalty over competence, spectacle over substance. He measures success by applause, television ratings, and personal enrichment. The country was supposed to become “great again,” but instead the focus became making sure one man never feels defeated, criticized, or held accountable.

Meanwhile, the American people keep footing the bill.

We are paying more.

We are divided more.

We are respected less internationally.

And we are once again watching America stumble into conflict while being told everything is “historic,” “beautiful,” and “the greatest ever.”

Real leadership is not about building monuments to yourself.

It is not about humiliating enemies or demanding constant praise.

Real leadership is sacrifice. Restraint. Competence. Humility. It is putting the country ahead of your own ego.

America was founded rejecting kings, emperors, and dear leaders.

Somewhere along the way, too many people forgot that.

LOOK UP.

Look Up

In a world that feels impossibly loud right now—war headlines out of Iran, a tumbling economy, the city budget, unstable national leadership, the constant churn of scandal and speculation, it is easy to feel like everything is closing in.

The noise is relentless.

And then, if you let yourself… you stop.

You step outside.

You shut it all off.

And you look up.

Somewhere above us, beyond the noise, beyond the arguments and the fear, Artemis II is making its way home having traveled farther than any humans have ever gone, looping around the Moon, seeing what few ever will: the far side, the quiet side, the side that reminds us just how small our conflicts really are.

There is something profoundly humbling about that.

NASA has always understood the power of naming of poetry in the face of science. The Sea of Tranquility. The Ocean of Storms. And now, Artemis.

Artemis: goddess of the hunt, of wilderness, of wild things untamed. Sister to Apollo. A protector. A force. A presence tied to the Moon itself. Her name carries the idea of being safe, unharmed, resilient.

What a perfect name for this moment.

Because while we argue, while we divide, while we question whether our leaders will escalate the next conflict or stumble into something we cannot undo… there are human beings floating in the vast silence of space. Not as Americans. Not as political factions. But as representatives of all of us.

Of humanity.

Think about that.

At the very moment we are looking up at the night sky, searching for perspective, they may be looking back AT US. At a fragile blue planet that holds everything we’ve ever loved, fought for, built, and broken.

And from that distance, none of our noise matters.

Only the question does:

What are we going to do with this place?

We have always been capable of greatness. We have built impossible things. We have crossed oceans, cured diseases, created art that stops time, and sent people to the edge of existence itself.

We are still those people.

But somewhere along the way, we got smaller. Louder. More consumed by the immediate and the trivial.

Artemis II is a reminder that we don’t have to stay that way.

It is a reminder that we are at our best when we are reaching not fighting. When we are exploring not retreating. When we are united by curiosity instead of divided by fear.

So tonight, step away from the headlines.

Look up.

Find the Moon.

And know that above all the noise, something extraordinary is happening. Something hopeful. Something that belongs not to one nation, but to all of us.

As Artemis makes her way home, may she return safely.

And may we, down here, find our way back to something better.

Not just for America.

But for the human race.

Op-Ed: The ‘Final Solution’ Comment…and the Silence That Followed

By Rep. ANITA BURROUGHS

Recently, Rep. Travis Corcoran (R-Weare) made statewide news, but not in a good way.

He posted on X: We need a final solution for theater kids in politics,” in response to an invitation to a legislative karaoke night hosted by Rep. Jessica Grill, who is Jewish.

For those unfamiliar, the phrase “final solution” was used by Nazi leaders to describe their plan to commit genocide against European Jews.

That’s not a throwaway line. It’s not edgy humor. It’s a phrase with a very specific and horrific meaning.

Speaker Sherman Packard and Minority Leader Alexis Simpson both condemned Corcoran’s statement. But beyond that, there was silence where it mattered most.

There was no public statement from Governor Ayotte or Majority Leader Jason Osborne. No call for accountability. Just silence. And that silence speaks volumes.

This stands in sharp contrast to what happened in 2020. Then-Speaker Steve Shurtleff asked Rep. Richard Komi (D-Manchester) to resign over a social media comment widely viewed as dismissive of survivors of sexual violence. Komi stepped down.

Leadership acted then. Why not now?

Deputy House Speaker Steve Smith has said that meaningful action would require a majority of lawmakers to agree it’s warranted: We can condemn it, but there is nothing we can do about it.”

I disagree.

Republican leadership has tools…if they choose to use them. They could pressure Corcoran to resign or rally their caucus to support expulsion. Leader Osborne has shown, time and again, that he can deliver votes when he wants to.

Short of that, they could at least make clear that this kind of rhetoric has consequences, including the option of supporting a serious primary challenger.

And recent elections show that even “safe” districts aren’t immune to voter backlash. Bobbi Boudman’s victory in a traditionally Republican district (Wolfeboro, Tuftonboro and Ossipee) underscores that point.

So why does this matter?

I’ll answer that personally, as a Jewish member of the New Hampshire House.

My grandfather Max came to the United States alone at age 13 from what is now Poland, fleeing the early threats that would later become the Holocaust. He spoke no English. Years later, much of his family was murdered, some at Auschwitz and Dachau.

Max was one of the kindest men I’ve ever known. We lived in the same two-family home, and I saw him every day growing up.

I never experienced antisemitism until I served in the New Hampshire State House.

Several years ago, two state representatives were brought before the Ethics Committee for posting antisemitic content. One sat across from me on the Commerce Committee. She never apologized and even suggested we should get together because we had so much in common.

No, thank you.

Neither representative faced any serious repercussion for their behavior.

Corcoran’s comment is not an isolated incident. It’s part of a broader pattern, of rhetoric and legislation that seeks to marginalize and demonize others.

And when leadership responds with silence, it sends a message.

Not just to those of us who are directly affected, but to everyone watching.

If there is no accountability from within the State House, then it must come from outside of it.

Vote out state representatives who believe they can act with impunity because they are protected by leadership or insulated by district lines.

Help your community recruit strong candidates from both sides of the aisle who reject the politics of hate and are willing to represent all their constituents, regardless of religion, race, or sexual orientation. And get out and volunteer to help get these candidates elected.  Newly elected representative Bobbi Boudman demonstrated that it can be done. 

Rep. Anita Burroughs
State Rep, Bartlett Carroll 2

Taking Back “Make America Great Again”

You want to make America great again?

Good.
So do I.

But let’s start by being honest about what actually made America great in the first place.

Red baseball cap with the slogan 'Make America Great Again' embroidered in white text.

It wasn’t slogans.
It wasn’t hats.
And it certainly wasn’t loyalty to one man.

America was great because we stood up for what was right—even when it was hard.

We passed laws for moral reasons.
We struck down laws for moral reasons.

We waged a war on poverty—not a war on poor people.

We invested in each other. We cared about our neighbors. We believed that when America succeeded, it was because all of us were pulling in the same direction.

We built big things—dams, highways, universities, research institutions.

We made astonishing technological advances.
We cured diseases.
We explored the universe.

We cultivated the greatest artists, the greatest scientists, and the most dynamic economy the world has ever seen.

We reached for the stars.

And we were able to do those things because we respected knowledge.

We aspired to intelligence.
We didn’t belittle it.
We didn’t fear it.
We didn’t treat education or expertise like some kind of enemy.

And we didn’t scare so easily.

Today, that spirit is under attack.

Donald Trump and the people who enable him have replaced patriotism with grievance. They have turned politics into a loyalty test to one man instead of a commitment to one country.

They mock intelligence.
They undermine truth.
They divide Americans against each other.

And now, once again, they have entangled the United States in another Middle East conflict—one that makes Americans less safe, not more.

That is not strength.

That is recklessness.

The first step in solving any problem is recognizing there is one.

And right now, we have a problem.

America is not the greatest country in the world today—not when we tolerate corruption, cruelty, and ignorance in our leadership.

But here’s the good news:

We can fix it.

Because greatness doesn’t come from slogans. It does not come from rage.
It does not come from lies.
It does not come from bullying the weak, demonizing immigrants, attacking education, or turning patriotism into a costume.

It comes from courage.
From sacrifice.
From intelligence.
From decency.

From citizens who are willing to stand up and say:

We can do better.

If we truly want to make America great again, then the first step is simple.

STOP saying YES to Donald Trump and the politicians who enable him. STOP voting for the unserious members of the GOP whose only goal is to get invited to Mara Lago.

And then let’s get back to the work that actually made this country great in the first place.

Building.
Inventing.
Discovering.
Learning.
And taking care of one another.

That is the America worth fighting for.

And that is the America we must build again. 🇺🇸