Democracy v Trumpocalypse v America
Two Revolutions, One Question: Can Democracy Survive the Forces That Would Undo It?
249 years ago, American colonists declared their independence from a distant monarch, launching a bold experiment in self-governance. Thirteen years later, across the Atlantic, the French people took to the streets and tore down their own monarchy—less to break from a foreign king than to uproot a deeply unequal social order. These two revolutions—American and French—shaped much of the modern world. They lit fires of hope, rebellion, and self-rule across continents.
But they were not the same fire.
And, as we face a democratic reckoning today, it is worth revisiting what they set in motion—and what they failed to finish.
The American Revolution: An Elite Rebellion for Liberty
The American Revolution was, in many ways, a legal brief turned into a war. It was initiated not by the desperate poor, but by wealthy colonists—merchants, planters, and lawyers—who saw British interference as a threat to their property, autonomy, and Enlightenment ideals.
Its most famous expression, the Declaration of Independence, framed rebellion not as lawlessness, but as a rational response to tyranny. It asserted “unalienable rights” and claimed the consent of the governed as the only legitimate source of authority.
But the revolution was also selective. Slavery was preserved. Women were excluded. Indigenous people were pushed further to the margins. The new republic institutionalized a form of liberty that favored elites, assumed white male property ownership as a civic baseline, and sought stability over justice.
Still, the American experiment endured. It gave the world the model of constitutional liberalism—rights-based, slow-moving, resilient. It also, unintentionally, planted the seeds of its own renewal, evident in every expansion of suffrage, civil rights, and inclusion since.
The French Revolution: A Mass Uprising for Equality
The French Revolution began in a storm—of bread riots, crushing taxes, and elite indifference. While inspired by Enlightenment ideals, it was fueled by hunger, humiliation, and hope. The people were not seeking better representation within an old system; they wanted to rebuild society from the ground up.
Where the Americans emphasized freedom from government, the French demanded freedom through government—reclaiming the state to serve the common good. Their rallying cry—liberté, égalité, fraternité—was universalist. Rights were not just English privileges extended to colonists; they were human rights.
But the revolution was also violent and unstable. The Reign of Terror devoured many of its own. Radicalism clashed with order. Out of the chaos rose Napoleon, and eventually, a return to monarchy.1 Still, the French Revolution ignited movements from Haiti to Hungary, inspiring generations to demand dignity, not just freedom.
Two Roads to Democracy—and Warnings from Each
These two revolutions tell us different things about the fight for democracy.
The American model offers institutional durability but warns of complacency. Its slow-burning progress can tolerate injustice for too long. Its deference to structure can mask deep erosion of substance.
The French model offers moral clarity and urgency, but warns of radicalism untethered from stability or reason. It shows how outrage without a steady hand can devour hope.
Why These Histories Matter Right Now
Today, both the American and French revolutionary legacies are under siege—but in different ways.
In the United States, the very structures designed to protect liberty—courts, elections, checks and balances—are being exploited or eroded. Minority rule, billionaire and corporate capture, disinformation, and institutional cowardice are unraveling the fabric of representative democracy. The system meant to channel freedom now obscures power.
Yet the answer is not just procedural reform. It’s a return to the spirit of the revolution—not the romantic myths, but the real tensions at its heart. Who gets to speak? Who gets to live free? Who holds power—and who is shut out?
The French legacy, with its demand for dignity, equality, and civic fraternity, offers a challenge to American democracy: freedom without justice is unfinished revolution.
We need both: the guardrails of the American system and the moral fire of the French uprising. We need institutions and imagination. Order and outrage. Liberty and equality.
We Are Not At the End. We Are At the Crossroads.
Revolution, in its truest sense, is not about violence. It’s about revolving—turning again to core principles, adjusting course, refusing stagnation. And, in a more human context, it is also about re-volition … the will of the People, how it is manifested and how it is enforced.
The immediate question before us now is not whether to start a new revolution—but whether we have the will and capacity to complete the one we’ve inherited. Can we bring into being the democracy that was promised but deferred? Can we resist the drift into authoritarianism, not with nostalgia, but with clarity and courage? If not, we’re back to wholesale cultural, social and political shifts … or a revolution.
249 years later, that is still the American experiment. It is not a destination. It is a journey.
And the French reminder is this: the people do not exist to serve power. Power exists to serve the people.
The Only Constant is Change.
The Fifth Republic was established in 1958.