History repeats itself. We are witnessing an all-too-familiar and alarming episode: supremacist discourse, draconian migration policies, unbridled protectionist tariffs, fractured international alliances, and an incendiary rhetoric culled from the darkest archives of the twentieth century. From the Oval Office, Donald Trump daily accelerates his project to refashion the country in his own image: a nation that is closed off, paranoid, exclusionary, irrational, and teetering on the brink of autarkic collapse.
The Supreme Court—dominated by the conservative bloc following appointments made during the real estate mogul’s first presidency—authorised the Executive on 30 May 2025 to deport more than half a million migrants from Cuba, Haiti, Nicaragua, and Venezuela. Beyond its legal implications, this ruling represents a profound blow from a humanitarian, ethical, and symbolic perspective. It follows a series of measures targeting various migrant groups, bringing the number of individuals at risk of expulsion to nearly one million since Trump’s return to office.
Beneath the judicial and administrative machinery beats a perilous dream: that of a white, self-sufficient, and fortified ‘American America’, where ‘America First’ is no longer a mere slogan, but a dogma of identitarian, economic, and military retreat.
The Trumpian strategy to ‘make America great again’ is paradoxically predicated on successive volleys of aggressive tariff restrictions. These are primarily aimed at Chinese, European, and Latin American goods, with the intent of reviving an obsolete productive structure that lost its prominence in the global economy decades ago. Trump operates under the illusion that he can restore the industrial splendour of cities such as Detroit through executive decrees, ignoring the fact that global value chains and the modern economy remain indifferent to national borders.
The Trump administration appears prepared to sacrifice its leading role in international trade for a manufacturing nostalgia that is as unfeasible as it is anachronistic. These tariffs are already triggering retaliatory measures, stifling investment, and will, in the medium term, drive up costs for American consumers. Meanwhile, the public deficit is set to soar progressively and, sooner rather than later, the economy will exhibit clear signs of exhaustion. What we are witnessing is a form of structural ‘detroitisation’ across the country: a ruin anchored in the past that threatens to devour both its present and its future.
At the heart of this crusade lies a clear and recurrent enemy: ‘the other’. The migrant, the Latino, the Black person, the Muslim, the poor… Since his inaugural speeches in 2015, the construction of this internal enemy has served as the fuel for Trump’s authoritarian populism. Now, in this second phase, such aggression is being bolstered by judicial backing and a society that has grown increasingly polarised and misinformed.
The Supreme Court’s ruling on the expulsion of Caribbean and Latin American migrants transcends mere legalities; it is a definitive statement of intent. The United States is renouncing its tradition as a sanctuary nation to reinvent itself as a fortress of rejection. The ‘shining city on a hill’ that once inspired the Founding Fathers has been transformed into a bastion from which fire is opened upon those seeking refuge.
Whilst the exclusion of migrants remains the most visible facet of Trumpian policy, a far more unsettling, structural, and far-reaching battle is being waged within public education. Donald Trump and his entourage have declared an all-out war on critical curricula, pluralistic thought, and inclusive education. Through a combination of reforms and budgetary cuts, they are forging an educational system that is unequal, elitist, and designed to entrench the racial and socio-economic statu quo.
State universities have begun to endure a significant diminution in funding earmarked for research programmes concerning structural racism, colonialism, or gender studies. In schools, the censorship of texts that challenge the official narrative is being aggressively pursued, fostering a brand of revisionism that whitewashes slavery, the genocide of indigenous peoples, and segregation.
This is no minor concern. Education is the primary instrument for forging a democratic and discerning society. Should control and censorship proliferate, the ultimate result will be a future where ignorance is enshrined as state policy—a breeding ground for intolerance and civic disenfranchisement. While Trump erects physical walls, his true rampart is ideological and cultural: an educational model that denies truth and diversity in order to perpetuate authoritarianism and isolation.
In this regard, the Republican leader seeks to emulate not so much Ronald Reagan or Richard Nixon, but rather the classical emperors of antiquity in their decline, surrounded by sycophants and imaginary enemies. And, as with every imperial twilight, there arises the temptation of one final display of vainglory—a desperate roar before the eventual collapse.
In a multipolar world where China blends capitalism with state control to expand its influence, and Russia plays a geopolitical game of chess with Europe as its primary board, the United States remains entrenched within its own contradictions. The withdrawal from multilateral agreements, the waning of influence, and the tarnishing of its diplomatic prestige abroad have significantly undermined its global standing.
The United States is no longer the guarantor of the free world, but rather a nation evocative of a rudderless banana republic. For decades, Central and South America served as its ‘back garden’, with corrupt governments subservient to external interests. Today, those republics differ little from a country that has become a parody of itself, mired in an authoritarian populism born of its own shadows.
The question is not whether Donald Trump won a second presidential election, but whether his delusional propositions can endure beyond his legacy. Institutional erosion, social confrontation, political disconnection, and profound racial inequality are forming a perfect storm that threatens to trigger an unprecedented crisis of legitimacy.
Trump is an anomaly—the amplified reflection of a system that has spent decades incubating socio-economic disparities, violence, injustice, and marginalisation. The ‘American America’ of the Trump era was not born with him, yet it found in his figure the perfect catalyst to unleash the demons that had long remained dormant.
Today, what is at stake is not merely the future of the ‘Stars and Stripes’, but the very credibility of the liberal democracy that its politicians claim to represent. Should the empire fall, it will do so as colossi fall: amidst fireworks, patriotic hymns, servile television networks, and millions of invisible victims. And when it is all over, when the floodlights are finally dimmed, perhaps all that will remain is a map of the past: a tattered, moth-eaten postcard of Detroit.
