Trump’s second presidency is a deliberate, systematic dismantling of American power and democracy—but a military coup won’t save it.
Donald Trump's second presidency is a failure of leadership. It is a deliberate surrender of America's power, values, and global standing to its most persistent enemy. With the full backing of his white-nationalist billionaire enabler Elon Musk, Trump has abandoned Ukraine to the whims of an emboldened, unchecked Vladimir Putin. He has done so while calling Ukraine's elected leader a dictator and refusing to use that same term for its assailant, a man who jails his opposition, assassinates his critics, and invades sovereign nations at will.
The humiliation of the Oval Office is total. Intelligence-sharing with Ukraine has been cut off. Military aid has been halted. America's allies are reading the message loud and clear: stand on your own. Because in Trump's America, loyalty is owed only to those who flatter the king.
Trump's hand-picked Defense Secretary, media pundit-turned-lapdog and DEI-for-a-white-guy hire Pete Hegseth, has dismantled America's cyber defenses against Russian attacks. Funding for America's military is being slashed—not in the name of peace, in the name of submission. Meanwhile, Trump's Policy Puppeteers, the architects of Project 2025, are gutting veterans' support programs, dissolving the promise that America made to those who have served.
No commander-in-chief has ever left American troops and veterans more isolated. No administration has done more to weaken the country's alliances. No president has bent the knee to a foreign adversary with such enthusiasm.
The collapse of an empire does not happen in a single moment. It is not the sole product of one man, one speech, one act of cowardice or betrayal. It is a slow-motion unraveling, a long series of compromises, failures, and indignities that culminate in a nation that no longer recognizes itself.
This is where America stands today.
And so, a question is being asked.
It's quiet now, but it will grow louder.
Facing this crisis, facing a Presidency gone rogue, staring down the barrel of its own decline and decay - when does America's military intervene?
The oath taken by every military officer and enlisted personnel is a solemn promise to "support and defend the Constitution of the United States against all enemies, foreign and domestic." It is a vow that Donald Trump, a craven coward of a man who dodged military service at every turn, never had to take.
That oath is sacred, but it is not a license to usurp. In moments of crisis, it is the collective will of the people - expressed through democratic process - that must guide the nation. The military can protect and maintain stability and security, but it can do so only within the bounds of its constitutional mandate. The line should be drawn with the utmost care, erring - at all costs - on the side of preserving the democratic character of the State.
Reasonable supporters of democracy point to the Trump administration's flagrantly lawless approach to the Constitution and call it evidence enough for the military to enforce its oath. And to be clear, Trump's staff of cross burners and sundry arsonists have been deliberately sluggish - to the crumbling edge of outright defiance - in following the judgments that have slapped down some of Trump's more outrageous executive orders.
But is that the line? Is that enough? Or does the military wait instead for a direct constitutional crisis? And if so, what - and who - precisely defines such a crisis?
Is America's "realignment" to Russia's goals enough of a catalyst for a coup? The indignity of Reagan's America becoming subservient to the imperialistic ambitions of a KGB man aside, it's hard to justify an internal military response to changes in foreign policy - no matter how dangerous, nonsensical, or unhinged they may appear.
Even if "necessary" can be clearly defined and a breach of Presidential authority can be proven beyond a doubt, the balance between intervention and overreach is fragile. The military and its leaders must consider both the immediate threats posed by a rogue administration and the long-term consequences of its actions.
A democracy is impossible without the separation of powers, and without the principle of civilian control over the military. Intervening in domestic affairs creates a precedent that can - and likely will - be exploited in the future. This is a dangerous path.
Practically speaking, what would a military intervention look like? Does the military seize control of the government? Do they depose Donald Trump and install a puppet leader? Do they simply act as "Caretakers" until a future election? Does an officer take power, following the classic model of coups going back centuries and crossing continents? How does a democracy recover from any of those actions?
To anyone opposing Donald Trump's current campaign of attrition against the people he is meant to serve, removing the man from office is a key goal. But if he is replaced by a military machine with even less accountability, is America better off? Are liberal, progressive, and democratic values any better off?
A military intervention is not a correction. It is a fracture, a wound that may never heal. It is a precedent that can never be undone. It is a door, once opened, that cannot be closed.
A coup does not restore democracy. It destroys it.
America has been here before, on the brink of democratic collapse. In those moments, the nation has only survived by turning to its people, not its generals. For all the guts and the glory, it was Lincoln who saved the Republic, not Grant.
The erosion of democratic norms, the betrayal of allies, and the abandonment of constitutional norms have pushed the nation to a precipice from which there may be no easy return. The damage inflicted by this administration runs deep, and the scars will not heal with rhetoric or half-measures.
But a military intervention will not save America. Not from Donald Trump, and not from itself.