As the United States approaches the 250th anniversary of the Declaration of Independence, the country faces a profound crisis of democratic legitimacy and institutional resilience. The ideals of 1776—government by consent, the inalienable rights of individuals, and the rejection of arbitrary power—are increasingly at odds with the current trajectory of American governance. Nowhere is this tension more visible than in the systematic concentration of power in the presidency, the erosion of institutional checks, and the instrumentalization of law and policy for partisan and personal gain. Recent legislative and administrative initiatives, such as the so-called “Big Beautiful Bill” and the aggressive expansion of denaturalization proceedings, exemplify a broader pattern of democratic backsliding that demands critical scrutiny.
The “Big Beautiful Bill,” signed by President Trump on Independence Day, is emblematic of the new style of governance. Ostensibly a sweeping tax and spending package, the bill makes permanent the tax cuts of Trump’s first term, introduces new tax breaks—such as the elimination of taxes on tips and overtime up to a certain threshold—and dramatically increases funding for defense and border security. These measures are financed by deep cuts to social programs, most notably Medicaid, which provides health coverage for low-income Americans and people with disabilities. The Congressional Budget Office projects that millions will lose health insurance as a result, while the bill adds trillions to the national debt. The symbolism of signing such a bill on July 4th, under the gaze of military aircraft, is hard to ignore: it signals a vision of America where social solidarity is sacrificed for tax relief to the wealthy and the expansion of state power in the name of security.
This legislative agenda is not merely a matter of fiscal policy; it is a deliberate attempt to reshape the social contract and the balance of power between government and governed. The cuts to Medicaid and other social programs disproportionately affect the most vulnerable, including many immigrants and minorities, while the tax benefits accrue mainly to the affluent. The bill’s passage, achieved through intense pressure on Congress and the marginalization of dissenting voices, further illustrates the weakening of legislative independence and the rise of executive dominance.
Parallel to these fiscal and administrative changes, the Trump administration has launched a concerted effort to redefine the boundaries of citizenship itself. In a move unprecedented in modern American history, the Department of Justice has prioritized the revocation of citizenship for naturalized Americans accused of a broad and vaguely defined set of offenses. A recent DOJ memorandum instructs prosecutors to “maximally pursue denaturalization proceedings in all cases permitted by law and supported by the evidence,” including not only national security threats and war crimes but also financial crimes such as Medicaid fraud. The process is civil, not criminal, meaning the accused have no right to government-provided legal counsel and face a lower burden of proof. Critics warn that this creates a “second class” of citizenship, where naturalized Americans—nearly 25 million people—live under the constant threat of losing their status, often for infractions that would not endanger the citizenship of those born in the United States.
The historical resonance of these measures is chilling. Denaturalization was once reserved for the most egregious cases—Nazi war criminals, for example—but is now being normalized as a tool of immigration enforcement and political messaging. The expansion of criteria and prosecutorial discretion opens the door to arbitrary and discriminatory application, undermining the Fourteenth Amendment’s guarantee of equal protection and due process. The specter of citizenship revocation is not only a legal issue but a political weapon, signaling to immigrant communities that their place in the American polity is conditional and precarious.
This development must also be understood in the context of electoral strategy. For decades, it was an article of faith among political analysts that immigrants and their descendants would bolster the Democratic Party, given their demographic profile and policy preferences. Empirical evidence, however, paints a more nuanced picture. While immigrant voters have historically leaned Democratic, recent elections have seen significant shifts. In 2024, for example, naturalized immigrants moved from favoring Biden by 27 points in 2020 to favoring Trump by a narrow margin, with notable rightward swings among Hispanic and Asian voters. In key counties with large immigrant populations, Democratic margins have eroded sharply, and Republicans have made unprecedented gains. The reasons are complex: many immigrants hold socially conservative views, prioritize economic stability, and are wary of unchecked immigration, even as they themselves are targets of anti-immigrant rhetoric. Polls show that a majority of foreign-born Latino voters, for instance, do not perceive Trump’s rhetoric as directed at them personally, and some actively distance themselves from new arrivals in an effort to assimilate.
Nevertheless, the persistent association of immigrants with the Democratic Party remains a powerful narrative in Republican politics. The push to restrict citizenship rights and the threat of denaturalization can be seen, at least in part, as an attempt to suppress a potentially Democratic-leaning electorate and to signal toughness to the Republican base. The administration’s willingness to challenge birthright citizenship—long considered sacrosanct under the Fourteenth Amendment—further underscores the instrumentalization of constitutional principles for partisan ends.
The broader context is one of institutional decay and the corrosion of democratic norms. The concentration of power in the presidency, the subordination of independent agencies, the transformation of the Republican Party into a vehicle for personal rule, and the marginalization of critical media all point to a system in which checks and balances are increasingly nominal. The media landscape, fractured by polarization and the rise of social media, is less able than ever to hold power to account. The “Big Beautiful Bill” and the denaturalization campaign are not isolated phenomena but part of a coherent strategy to entrench executive authority, discipline dissent, and reshape the electorate.
Historically, the United States has weathered periods of executive overreach and democratic crisis—Jackson’s populism, Roosevelt’s wartime powers, Nixon’s abuses—but the current convergence of legislative, administrative, and rhetorical assaults on the foundations of democracy is without precedent in its scope and ambition. The ideals of the Declaration of Independence—equality, liberty, government by consent—are being systematically undermined by policies that privilege loyalty over law, exclusion over inclusion, and power over principle.
In sum, the current trajectory of American governance represents a fundamental challenge to the nation’s democratic experiment. The use of fiscal policy to reward allies and punish the vulnerable, the weaponization of citizenship law, and the manipulation of electoral dynamics for partisan advantage are all symptoms of a deeper malaise. As the United States marks 250 years since its founding, the question is not only whether it can resist the concentration of power in the hands of one man, but whether it can renew its commitment to the ideals that once inspired a revolution.
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