Guest Column by Darrell Dunn, Editor, The Weekly Bean.
There is a well-known human impulse to slow down when passing a traffic accident or some other mishap. Even when we know it is intrusive, curiosity often overrides restraint. Something similar seems to be at work when observing the political and cultural chaos in the United States over the past decade. For a Canadian observer, it is akin to watching a favorite cousin descend into mental illness and succumb to an excruciatingly slow suicide walk.
The focus is often placed on Donald Trump, whose conduct and rhetoric have challenged long-standing expectations of presidential behaviour. Yet the deeper concern is not solely one individual. It is the reality that a substantial portion of the American electorate has endorsed, defended, or at least tolerated a political style that departs sharply from democratic norms and civic restraint. That reality has prompted renewed reflection on a warning famously attributed to Benjamin Franklin at the close of the Constitutional Convention in 1787. When asked what form of government had been created, Franklin replied, “A republic, if you can keep it.” Recent events suggest that this question clearly remains unresolved.
This is not the first moment of profound strain in American history. The country has endured civil war, political violence, economic collapse, and social upheaval. At various times, it has elevated leaders who rose to the demands of history, and at others, leaders who deepened division. Democracy, by its nature, reflects the character, fears, and aspirations of the people who practice it.
What makes the present situation especially consequential is that the United States does not exist in isolation. Its political decisions, economic policies, and military posture reverberate far beyond its borders. For much of the twentieth century, particularly following the Second World War, American leadership contributed significantly to international stability and reconstruction. The post-war order, while imperfect, fostered decades of relative prosperity and cooperation, supported in no small part by U.S. institutions and alliances.
Henry Kissinger, in his 2015 book World Order, described international stability as resting on two foundations: commonly accepted rules that define acceptable behaviour, and a balance of power that restrains excess when those rules are tested. The concern today is that American leadership appears increasingly disengaged from both principles, favouring impulse and confrontation over consistency and restraint.
Recent developments have heightened these anxieties. Reports of aggressive enforcement actions (and in two cases, executions), constitutional challenges, and political polarization have raised questions about the durability of civil liberties and the rule of law. What troubles many observers is not only the actions themselves, but the apparent inability—or unwillingness—of institutions designed to provide checks and balances to respond decisively. Legislative bodies, courts, and political leaders all bear responsibility for safeguarding democratic norms, especially in moments of stress.
International reactions have been cautious, even conflicted. Some argue that engagement and negotiation remain the best path forward, trusting that institutional continuity will ultimately prevail. Others warn that minimizing or excusing belligerent behaviour risks normalizing it. History offers examples that support both caution and resolve, and it is often only in hindsight that such judgments become clear.
Even if the current political moment passes, the broader lesson may endure. Democracies are not self-sustaining. They require vigilance, humility, and a shared commitment to truth and restraint. No nation, regardless of its history or influence, is immune to democratic backsliding.
The hope, from outside the United States, is not, while tempting, for humiliation or decline, but for renewal. The American experiment has demonstrated remarkable resilience in the past. Whether it can do so again will depend not on any single leader, but on the collective choices of its citizens and institutions in the years ahead.
From a Canadian perspective, this moment is more than unsettling; it is instructive. Canada has prospered beside a United States that was broadly stable, predictable, and anchored in institutions that mattered. Our trade, security, and diplomatic posture have all been built on the assumption that American power, while imperfect, was ultimately constrained by law and custom. When those constraints weaken, the ripple effects are not theoretical — they land squarely on our economy, our borders, and our sense of security.
At the same time, Canadians should resist the temptation to watch smugly from the sidelines. Democratic decay rarely announces itself with sirens. It advances through indifference, the excusing of bad behaviour because it is politically convenient, and the slow corrosion of trust in institutions. These are pressures Canada is not immune to, no matter how often we reassure ourselves otherwise.
For Canada, the task ahead is uncomfortable but necessary. We must engage the United States with clear eyes and firm principles, not nostalgia or denial, while also tending aggressively to our own democratic house. The rule of law, independent courts, a professional public service, and a political culture that values restraint over outrage do not sustain themselves. If the American experience demonstrates anything, it is that democracy can be damaged not only by its enemies, but by those who assume it will survive without care.
Read more: Guest Opinion – UCP Separatists
