By Kenneth Tiven
On the morning of September 11, 2001, the world watched in disbelief as the World Trade Center towers in New York City collapsed after terrorists crashed two hijacked airliners into the landmarks. Nearly 3,000 people were killed. America—and the world—would never be quite the same again.
The United States had not experienced a comparable physical attack on its continental territory since the War of 1812. After 9/11, the country changed profoundly. The fear, anger and insecurity unleashed that morning altered American foreign policy and domestic politics for a generation.
A quarter-century later, another transformation is under way. Donald Trump’s second administration has adopted an aggressively transactional approach to allies and adversaries alike, launched military action against Iran, intensified its campaign against undocumented immigrants and pursued a sweeping tariff strategy that has unsettled global trading arrangements built over more than seven decades.
The contrast was stark at this year’s 9/11 anniversary ceremonies. Four living former US presidents—Bill Clinton, George W Bush, Barack Obama and Joe Biden—attended the formal commemoration at the September 11 Memorial in Manhattan. President Trump did not. He changed his plans after learning that political speeches are not permitted at the annual ceremony, which is dedicated to those who died that morning and to the emergency personnel who died or were disabled by toxic exposure at the wreckage site.
Solemnity, it seems, is not the language of this presidency.
Trump’s political universe is intensely personal. He presents himself less as the custodian of an institution than as the embodiment of a movement—and his supporters and opponents alike understand that distinction. His supporters see a leader willing to smash conventions they believe have failed them. His critics see an increasingly authoritarian style of government in which loyalty to the president matters more than loyalty to institutions.
The political consequences are now becoming visible.
Trump himself cannot appear on the ballot again in 2026, but his political survival depends heavily on retaining the Republican majorities in both houses of Congress. Speaking to Republicans gathered in Texas, he promised Americans $5,000 if Republicans retain control of Congress. “Pretend that I’m on the ballot,” he told them.
The remark revealed his central role in the coming mid-term elections—and his awareness that his political standing is not as secure as his grip on the Republican Party might suggest.
Candidates of both parties are confronting voters increasingly preoccupied with inflation, food and fuel prices, stagnant wages, foreign wars and a sense that government is increasingly responsive to the wealthy while neglecting the roughly 240 million Americans who are neither wealthy nor upper middle class.
The uncertainty has been compounded by upheaval across the federal government. Cuts to agencies and programmes, instability in the defence department and changes in senior government personnel have created a pervasive sense of unpredictability.
Immigration has become one of the defining battlegrounds. Immigration and Customs Enforcement, or ICE, has expanded its enforcement role, with critics arguing that arrests and deportations increasingly bypass the protections of ordinary due process. Trump’s pardoning of people convicted in connection with the January 6, 2021, attack on the Capitol after his defeat in the 2020 election has further intensified accusations that the president sees the machinery of government as an instrument of political loyalty.
Now the fear of losing Congress is shaping electoral strategy.
One potential roadblock for Democrats is mail-in voting, which accounts for a substantial proportion of ballots in several states. The Constitution leaves the administration of elections primarily to the states, not the federal government. Yet, the Trump administration has explored a system under which the US Postal Service would compare mail-in ballots with state voter rolls before delivering them to state election authorities.
States already conduct voter verification as part of the process of preparing mail ballots for counting.
The obvious question is whether the postal system could realistically undertake such a comparison involving millions of ballots in the weeks preceding Election Day. Lawsuits challenging the proposal have raised precisely that concern, while critics argue that alleged non-citizen voting is so statistically marginal that the issue has become a political distraction—a classic case of “wag the dog” politics.
Court action has already halted parts of the postal initiative, although a whistleblower inside the senior ranks of the US Postal Service says work on the system continues.
THE DEMOLITION PRESIDENT
Trump has spent decades cultivating an image of himself as a master builder and arbiter of luxury, an image amplified by American media that often repeated his claims without sufficient scrutiny.
But his political style suggests something rather different: a demolition expert.
His strongly conservative advisers have pursued policies that have unsettled established assumptions about economics, international trade and America’s relationship with its traditional allies. The resulting trade war is already being felt by businesses, consumers and financial markets.
Among the voters who helped return Trump to office in 2024 were farmers and workers in states where agriculture and heavy transportation are central to the economy. That support is now being tested by energy prices.
Trucking and much of America’s agricultural machinery still depend heavily on diesel. Higher energy costs have raised the price of transporting food, operating farm equipment and moving goods. Large pick-up trucks—symbols of the culture Trump has successfully embraced—can carry enormous fuel tanks, turning every visit to the pump into a political reminder of the cost of energy.
The war involving Iran has further destabilised global energy markets. Relations with Canada, meanwhile, have deteriorated dramatically.
Canada supplies a substantial share of the crude oil consumed by the United States, particularly to refineries in the northern and central states. Canada also supplies enormous quantities of hydroelectric power to parts of the United States and is a major exporter of aluminium to American industry.
Tariffs imposed by Washington—and retaliatory Canadian measures—therefore do not simply affect foreign producers. They feed directly into American prices.
Trump’s attitude towards America’s northern neighbour was made explicit in one social-media post: “WE DON’T NEED CANADA, THEY NEED US!”
Canada responded with retaliatory tariffs. Trump then ordered the name “Lake America” to appear on US government maps for Lake Ontario and promoted a map bearing his handwritten version of the new name.
For many Americans, the symbolism was almost surreal.
The United States and Canada share the world’s largest bilateral trading relationship. Their economies are deeply integrated, with supply chains crossing the border countless times before a finished product reaches a consumer. A trade war between them, therefore, comes at a cost on both sides.
States such as Michigan, Ohio, Maine, Iowa and Texas have significant economic exposure to Canadian trade, and several are also politically important in the coming elections. Nearly a third of Iowa’s exports, for example, go to Canada.
Mid-term elections traditionally punish the party occupying the White House. If higher prices and disrupted agricultural and industrial markets persist, Republican farmers and workers who helped return Trump to power may begin asking whether the economic nationalism they voted for is working in their interests.
THE NEW ANXIETY: AI
Another unlikely issue is emerging in American politics: the giant data centres required to power artificial intelligence.
Technology companies and their billionaire backers regard these facilities as essential infrastructure for the AI revolution. They are often built in rural areas, where land is cheaper and large buildings can operate with relatively few employees.
But communities are increasingly asking what they are giving up in return.
Data centres consume enormous amounts of electricity and water. Residents worry about the environmental impact, pressure on local power grids and the transformation of quiet communities into industrial technology hubs.
The opposition crosses political lines. Polling suggests that roughly seven in ten Americans do not want a large data centre near where they live.
Even among Republicans, environmental and resource concerns are becoming part of the debate.
Thus, as the 2026 elections approach, the political argument is no longer simply about Trump. It is about the consequences of the world he is helping create—from energy and trade to immigration, technology and America’s relationship with its closest allies.
REMEMBERING SEPTEMBER 11
And beneath all of it lies the memory of September 11.
Joanne Carducci, a Substack writer who was part of CNN’s coverage of the attacks and their aftermath, recently described the experience with the kind of intimacy that statistics cannot capture.
She recalled the people she knew who worked in the towers, the sight of the buildings burning and then collapsing, and the surreal September sky filled with drifting paper.
Her memory is not really about terrorism, politics or foreign policy. It is about absence.
Twenty-five years later, the images remain embedded in the American consciousness: two towers becoming smoke, steel becoming dust, familiar landmarks becoming a void.
The world changed that morning. America changed with it.
And a quarter-century later, the country is still trying to decide what kind of America that change ultimately produced.
—The writer has worked in senior positions at The Washington Post,
NBC, ABC and CNN and also consults for several Indian channels
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