A Conflicted Fourth of July

Max Stearns

This July 4, there are so many reasons to be upset, concerned, or distraught. Pick whichever label you wish. I’ve spent the past several years advocating radical reform to save our democracy, insisting it’s still possible. So it’s fair to ask: am I still hopeful, and if so, how? Yes to the first part. The rest of this post answers the second. And here's a preview: I believe the seeds of renewal are visible, although they seem so hard to see.

I have no doubt that the lift to save our democracy is growing heavier. I'm troubled by the breakdown not only of the GOP, but also of the Democratic Party. In my book, Parliamentary America, I explained that historically, Republicans tend to get in line, whereas Democrats tend to form a circular firing squad. Today, these dynamics have grown worse.

The Democratic Party appears to be shifting toward a more staunchly progressive, even democratic socialist, identity. Many, especially younger, voters welcome this. But anyone who thinks that’s a recipe for unity is mistaken.

These things are hard to prove, but some empirical evidence suggests that Democratic voters are increasingly intolerant of dissent. If you don’t see this, please consider how opposing voices, not from conservatives, but within liberal ranks, are increasingly received both on campuses and on social media.  

If one party’s breakdown weren’t bad enough, how can the fracturing of both possibly leave me hopeful that we’ll emerge from this mess a thriving democracy? That very dysfunction, possibly ironically, is part of what gives me hope.

Here’s why:

I am confident that there is no heir apparent to Donald Trump. Not JD Vance, not his sons, not Ron DeSantis, not Mike Johnson. Frankly no one. Many Democrats fail to recognize Trump’s genius—his stunning capacity, using the vocabulary of a fourth grader, to capture and mislead all in one swoop—Make America Great Again, the Big Beautiful Bill. He is a force of nature, a magnet. As with moths to a flame, Trump manages to draw all attention inward. Maybe the better metaphor is a black hole. Trump creates a vacuum in which no one else can flicker, let alone shine. No light escapes.

But Trump is also quite old. There’s reason to believe he’s in poor health and might even be obese. He’s made plain that he’s averse to exercise—though he’s held others to very different standards, especially women.

There's no way to know when Trump will end his political career or what will be the cause. And let me state plainly that I will delete any comment that even implies, let alone promotes, violence. But however and whenever that happens, the Big Beautiful Bill, the hard-right leaning Supreme Court, the ICE raids, Alligator Alcatraz, and whatever additional havoc he is now wreaking, won’t serve to unite. It will all intensely divide.

Today’s fault lines in the GOP are hidden. But without Trump, they no longer will be. And once visible, those lines will prove disabling.

Within the Democratic Party there is a growing possibility of a democratic socialist takeover. And anyone who thinks that’s unifying is mistaken. Just as the past decade or more has left centrist Republicans politically homeless, this will happen to centrist Democrats. It might already be happening.

Yes, many former centrists now align with MAGA—but that’s less out of conviction than a lack of realistic alternatives. That dynamic, too, is something I explore in my book. But please don’t imagine the center left will sit quietly by while Alexandria Ocasio-Cortez, Zohran Kwame Mamdani, or another democratic socialist lays claim to the Democratic Party’s identity.

The struggle is real. But yes, I remain hopeful.

I believe that once enough members of two deeply damaged teams realize that they are one election away—not just from losing power, but from doing so repeatedly and with ever-growing stakes to an increasingly intolerant faction on the other side—we will see an opportunity to come together. To rethink. To reexamine. To put the cards on the table. To become something all too rare: introspective.

No, I'm not naïve. I'm not Pollyannaish. If you know me, or read any of my work, you know that. But I'm still hopeful. Even on this Fourth of July.