The perils of a presidency built on division by John Reid

In any democracy, leadership is meant to unite, to bridge gaps, and to bring people together to work toward common goals. But what happens when a nation elects a leader who sees division not as a temporary setback, but as a permanent tool for power? When a country's leader crafts their campaign on polarizing rhetoric, using it as both a strategy and a slogan, the results can be disastrous. This is the reality we now face in a divided nation, where the president has made division his campaign, and in many ways, his legacy.

The rise of this leader was, in many ways, a symptom of deeper fractures within society. Long-standing grievances, whether economic, racial, cultural, or political, came to a head. Citizens, disillusioned by years of perceived neglect or exploitation, found someone who was willing to speak their frustrations openly—someone who promised to give voice to the voiceless, regardless of the consequences. And when that leader stepped onto the national stage, there was no subtlety in their message: the nation was in crisis, and the only way to restore order was to forcefully confront its divisions.

What makes this kind of leadership so dangerous is that it creates a self-fulfilling prophecy. A divided president will inevitably encourage a divided populace. The president's constant reinforcement of “us versus them” not only entrenches the political divide but deepens social schisms that are already fragile. We witness it in the media, where the lines between news and opinion blur; in the streets, where protests and counter-protests escalate into violence; in families, where dinner table conversations have been replaced by acrimony.

The president’s slogan—“Make America Divided Again” or its equivalent in any nation facing similar trends—has become the rallying cry of those who feel disempowered, disenfranchised, and eager for a leader who offers simple answers. But simple answers are often the most dangerous. Leaders who resort to scapegoating, demonizing entire groups of people, or portraying their political opponents as enemies of the state risk destabilizing the very democratic fabric that sustains them. A president who governs by division does not seek to heal; instead, they seek to control through fear, outrage, and polarization.

Let us not forget that division is not just a political strategy. It is a worldview. The president’s policies—crafted in the image of their rhetoric—are designed to divide rather than unite. Whether it’s through restrictive immigration laws, the undermining of civil rights protections, or the demonization of the media and academia, the message is clear: "I will protect you from them." The "others" are painted as existential threats, whether foreign or domestic. This rhetoric, once a campaign tool, becomes the policy backbone of the presidency.

But division does not just harm the target groups. It erodes the core of democracy itself. When citizens no longer see their political opponents as legitimate, the checks and balances that keep a nation functioning begin to break down. The pursuit of compromise, essential to any democracy, becomes increasingly difficult when each side sees the other as an enemy rather than a partner in governance. This corrosive environment makes any form of bipartisan cooperation or dialogue nearly impossible. At its worst, division creates an atmosphere of distrust in government institutions, fostering a dangerous sense of cynicism that leads people to abandon political engagement altogether.

The impact of a divisive president goes beyond just political damage. The social consequences are severe. In a country where hate speech becomes normalized and intolerance festers, the result is a fractured society where groups are set against each other—racial tensions flare, ideological battles intensify, and, perhaps most tragically, social empathy withers. A nation that thrives on shared values and mutual respect becomes a battleground where even basic civil discourse is sacrificed in favor of partisan warfare.

This is not to say that division has never existed in the past. Throughout history, nations have faced tremendous internal strife. But it is one thing to confront division as a challenge to be overcome, and quite another to celebrate and perpetuate it. A president who embraces division as a core tenet of their leadership fails to recognize that the strength of a nation is in its ability to come together, even in moments of disagreement. A divided leader does not simply reflect the nation’s divisions; they exacerbate them, making reconciliation harder to achieve.

The question then becomes: what happens when such a leader exits the stage? The damage done by a presidency that thrives on division is not easily undone. While it may seem appealing to some to elect a leader who promises to cater exclusively to their interests, the long-term costs of division—economic instability, fractured social cohesion, and deep political resentment—are far more damaging than any temporary sense of victory.

A nation cannot build lasting prosperity on the bedrock of division. The president who seeks to build a legacy based on polarization may find, in the end, that the very divisions they fomented unravel the country they swore to protect. The history books may record their campaign as one of unprecedented division, but the legacy left behind will be a fractured nation—one struggling to heal and rebuild from the very wounds it was forced to endure.

In conclusion, while division may win a campaign, it cannot sustain a presidency or a nation. True leadership is not about inflaming hatred or solidifying loyalties through fear. It is about seeking common ground, listening to all voices, and creating a vision for the future that includes everyone. The road to unity is always more difficult, but it is the only path that will lead to a prosperous, peaceful, and just society. In the end, a divided nation can only heal if its leaders are willing to listen, to compromise, and to embrace the hard work of building bridges rather than walls.