1. HospiceMy mother-in-law, Peggy, is one of the most important people in my life. She is precious to me. In a few days she will celebrate her birthday, if she is still here. She has been in hospice the last few months. As I write, she is on the home stretch of the final lap of her race. When she is gone, she will leave a hole in our hearts. Peggy appeared to be in excellent health until last fall. A year ago she drove twelve hours (solo) to North Carolina for the family vacation and, upon arrival, jumped into the swimming pool while fully dressed to the delight of her grandchildren—a tradition she began almost two decades ago. In October, she didn’t feel right. She went to the doctor. Her doc ordered a same-day MRI. Peggy woke up that Tuesday not feeling great; by dinnertime she’d been told there was a tumor the size of a baseball in her lung. Nine months later she was in a bed in the middle of my family room, being anointed by our priest. That was this past Monday. This beloved woman, the center of our family, had a cancer growing in her that no one could see. And in the blink of an eye she went from health to hospice so that now, a few days shy of her birthday, her children and grandchildren sit, round the clock, keeping vigil over her. As metaphors go, it’s uncanny. I am unable to disentangle Peg’s experience from the journey my country has been on for the last decade. We were fine. Maybe better than fine. We’d won the Cold War and reached the end of history, where liberalism was the inevitable conclusion of human affairs. Everything seemed good. We’d even elected a black president.¹ But beneath the surface a cancer was growing. And here, on the eve of our nation’s birthday, the America we knew is in hospice. After the cancer of illiberalism first presented itself, we chose a difficult course of treatment and beat it back for a few years. But then it returned, stronger and more aggressive. The illiberalism metastasized. July 4, 2026 is not the celebration of a vital and prospering liberal society. It is a deathbed vigil. My best friend is fond of quoting William Seward’s line about America: “There was always just enough virtue in this republic to save it; sometimes none to spare, but still enough to meet the emergency.” That’s a nice sentiment, but I don’t think it’s right. For one thing: How would we know if the republic hasn’t been saved? A nation called “The United States of America” would still exist. It would still have books full of laws, and McDonald’s, and the Postal Service. Just as a for-instance: If Donald Trump’s attempted coup had worked in 2021, “America” as a place, a thing, would have persisted, even if the liberal republic as we had known it was gone. Maybe Seward’s line should be read like the parable of the Chinese farmer: Has the republic been saved? Too soon to tell. From this vantage point, no outcome is ever determinative. You can’t say, “Well, there wasn’t enough virtue to save America in 2016. Or 2024.” Because the story never ends and there is no “emergency.” There is only life; there is only struggle. Which rolls in endlessly, like the tides. That version of Seward is a little better. It’s certainly more fitting for our age. But it’s Pollyannaish. If you think it’s always “too soon to tell” then you don’t believe that America always has enough virtue for liberalism to prevail. Because you don’t think that “prevailing” is a thing. My own suspicion is that the hour is late. Liberalism in America as it was even ten years ago is gone. “The republic” still exists. It just isn’t the same thing we once loved. 2. The Arc of HistoryMaybe that’s all too dyspeptic. I won’t recapitulate what America has become—if you are a regular reader of this newsletter, then you know the state of liberalism in this moment. But America has always had its problems, right? We were founded in genocide and then our new nation institutionalized slavery. We didn’t do (much) colonialism, but we did practice a brutal mercantilism. Even after the Civil War, we allowed authoritarianism to persist in half the country. Our hands have never been entirely clean. And yet, no nation or people has ever had hands free of dirt.² America was exceptional because, uniquely, it was formed around an idea: liberalism. And even though the American practice of liberalism was compromised from the start, the ideal was still pursued. America was never perfect; it could never be perfected. But for 240 years, more or less, the arc of our nation’s political history bent toward liberalism. That’s what I loved about it. I grew up knowing that my country might never be what I wanted it to be—but that it would tilt a little bit closer to the American idea with each passing age. And that, finally, is what makes this moment different. America is not more unjust or illiberal today than it was in 1800; or 1850; or 1950. But we have moved decidedly backwards: We are a great deal more illiberal in 2026 than we were in 2000, or 2008, or 2016. What worries me most about the regression is that our lurch toward illiberalism is not the result of hardship or privation—it is the product of success. Americans did not turn to a corrupt strongman because they were suffering through a Great Depression or a World War. Illiberalism was not undertaken out of desperation. If that had been the case, then we could make excuses for our fellow citizens and hope that, once peace and prosperity return, the illiberal impulse would fade. Instead, this age is marked by something unseen in the history of our once-great nation: A surge toward illiberalism born of tranquility and wealth. 3. The Day After TomorrowSo what happens next? At some point the vigil will end and we will make peace with the reality that the America we knew and loved has passed. But we’ll still be here. A placed called America will still be here. Life will go on. What are we supposed to do? The same thing we do when any loved one passes. We live. Americans make a fetish of the idea that they are, by dint of philosophy, geography, history, and/or Providence, exceptional. I certainly used to venerate this idea. Perhaps you did, too. Seeing that we are no more exceptional than Venezuela, Turkey, or Hungary³—other democracies that fell to strongmen—is bracing. But maybe it can be liberating, too. Because despite what the pickup-truck commercials say, America isn’t an inevitable juggernaut of freedom. It is compromised and vulnerable and we will have to figure out how to live here anyway. Just like the Venezuelans, the Turks, and the Hungarians have done for a generation. Maybe—and I’m just thinking out loud here—we can be at peace knowing that Seward was wrong. There isn’t always enough virtue to save the day. The triumph of liberalism is not inevitable. It can fail. And then, if we are bold, unrelenting, and lucky, it can be won back. Maybe this knowledge—stripping America bare of her pieties—can make us less fatalistic and more eager to fight. Because to struggle is to live. 4. ParenthoodI talk about parenthood and kid sports from time to time and I just did an entire podcast about it with my buddy Shaun Dawson. I think you’ll like it. 
1
He was not my cup of tea, but he was honorable and his stewardship of the nation was fine—firmly within the modern presidential mean.
2
This is the human condition. Original sin, if you will. It does no good to acknowledge America’s failings but then romanticize the rest of history and pretend that our sins are unique. All governments, societies, and cultures are fallen because man is fallen.
3
The list of other liberal democracies that fell into illiberal dictatorships just in the last hundred years is slightly terrifying: Germany, Nicaragua, Czechoslovakia, the Philippines, not to mention the post-Soviet democracies in Russia and Belarus. This is a very partial list; you could add to it many others that have seen democracy wobble and authoritarian leadership rise. Some of these countries found their way back to democracy, some have not. If you lose your belief that America is “exceptional”—that we possess some secret sauce for liberalism—then it is impossible to ignore how prevalent democratic backsliding is in the modern world. You’re a free subscriber to The Bulwark—the largest pro-democracy news and analysis bundle on Substack. For unfettered access to all our newsletters and to access ad-free and member-only shows, become a paying subscriber.We’re going to send you a lot of content—newsletters and alerts for shows so you can read and watch on your schedule. Don’t care for so much email? You can update your personal email preferences as often as you like. To update the list of newsletters or alerts you received from The Bulwark, click here. Having trouble with something related to your account? Check out our constantly-updated FAQ, which likely has an answer for you.
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