How a Generation’s Awareness of Mortality Shaped American Perspectives and Politics
By Cliff Potts, WPS News
June 24, 2025
For many Americans born between 1980 and 2004, the period spanning their childhood to early adulthood was marked by a pervasive awareness of existential threats tied to global conflicts, particularly the fight for Europe’s freedom from authoritarian regimes. From the age of 10, when geopolitical realities often became clear, to 34, this generation grew up under the shadow of potential sacrifice—knowing their lives could be at stake in wars to preserve democratic ideals abroad. This unique historical context has profoundly shaped their outlook, fostering a mix of resilience, skepticism, and disillusionment that some argue paved the way for the rise of Donald J. Trump, the Make America Great Again (MAGA) movement, and the polarized politics of today.
A Generation Forged in Crisis
For those who came of age in the late 20th and early 21st centuries, the specter of conflict was ever-present. The Cold War’s tail end, with its nuclear anxieties, gave way to the post-9/11 era, defined by the War on Terror, prolonged military engagements in Iraq and Afghanistan, and a renewed focus on defending democratic values against authoritarianism in Europe and beyond. Children as young as 10 absorbed these realities through news reports, school drills, and family discussions about military service or global instability. By their mid-30s, many had lived through decades of rhetoric about sacrifice for freedom, particularly in defense of Europe’s democratic institutions against threats like Soviet influence or, later, resurgent nationalist autocracies.
This awareness instilled a complex worldview. On one hand, it bred a sense of duty and patriotism, as many internalized the narrative of America as a global defender of liberty. On the other, it fostered cynicism toward institutions—government, media, and military—that seemed to perpetuate endless conflicts with unclear outcomes. “We grew up knowing we might have to die for ideals like freedom, but we also saw the cost: friends lost in wars, families strained, and promises of stability unfulfilled,” said Dr. Emily Harper, a sociologist at Georgetown University who studies generational attitudes. “That tension created a generation skeptical of grand narratives but hungry for something to believe in.”
The Seeds of Discontent
This duality—pride in America’s role as a liberator juxtaposed with frustration over its sacrifices—created fertile ground for political shifts. By the 2010s, economic stagnation, rising inequality, and distrust in elites amplified these sentiments. Many Americans, particularly in working-class and rural communities, felt betrayed by a system that demanded their loyalty but offered little in return. The prolonged military engagements in the Middle East, often framed as extensions of the fight for global democracy, further eroded trust in establishment leaders who appeared detached from the human toll.
Enter Donald J. Trump, whose 2016 campaign capitalized on this disillusionment. His “Make America Great Again” slogan resonated with those who felt the nation’s sacrifices—both personal and collective—had been squandered by globalist policies and out-of-touch elites. Trump’s rhetoric, which often framed immigrants, media, and political opponents as threats to American sovereignty, echoed the grievances of a generation that had grown up expecting to bear the burden of global conflicts. “Trump spoke to people who felt they’d been asked to give everything for a world that didn’t value them,” said Dr. Harper. “His message of reclaiming American strength was a release valve for that frustration.”
The Fascist Label and the MAGA Movement
The rise of Trump and the MAGA movement has sparked intense debate over whether his leadership and ideology veer into fascism, a term historically tied to authoritarian regimes like those in 1930s Europe. Scholars like Robert Paxton, a leading expert on fascism, initially hesitated to apply the label to Trump but shifted their stance after the January 6, 2021, Capitol attack, citing his rejection of democratic norms and incitement of violence as hallmarks of fascist tendencies. Others, like historian Daniel Steinmetz-Jenkins, argue that while Trump’s rhetoric—such as calling immigrants “vermin” or the media “enemies of the people”—echoes fascist staples, the structural conditions of modern America differ from interwar Europe, complicating direct comparisons.
The MAGA movement, often described as nativist and populist, gained traction among those who felt alienated by decades of globalist policies and military overreach. Surveys show that MAGA supporters, particularly those who deny the 2020 election results, are more likely to endorse political violence and harbor extreme views on race, immigration, and national identity. A 2022 study found that 58.2% of MAGA Republicans believed violence was justified to advance political objectives, compared to 25.1% of non-Republicans. This willingness to embrace extreme measures may reflect a generation’s frustration with a system that demanded their sacrifice while seemingly prioritizing foreign interests over domestic needs.
For younger Americans, particularly those aged 18-29, the appeal of Trump’s message often lies less in ideology and more in economic and cultural discontent. Polls indicate that while only 23% of young adults identify as conservative, many who voted for Trump in 2024 cited economic pressures like inflation and housing costs, not a wholesale embrace of MAGA ideology. This suggests that the path to Trump’s influence was less about ideological fascism and more about exploiting a sense of betrayal among those who grew up expecting to sacrifice for a nation that seemed to abandon them.
A Polarized Present
The politics of 2025 reflect the long-term impact of this generational experience. The MAGA movement’s combative rhetoric and distrust of institutions mirror the skepticism of a cohort raised on the promise of sacrifice for freedom, only to face economic hardship and political dysfunction. Trump’s second term, which began in January 2025, has intensified these divides, with policies like mass deportations and executive orders targeting perceived “anti-Christian” discrimination fueling both support and opposition.
Critics argue that Trump’s authoritarian leanings—such as his calls to prosecute political opponents or his admiration for strongmen like Hitler’s generals—exploit the same fears of decline and betrayal that resonated with a generation shaped by sacrifice. Yet supporters see him as a defender of American values, rejecting the fascist label as a smear. “The people calling Trump a fascist are the same elites who sent us to war for decades,” said Mark Thompson, a 32-year-old veteran and MAGA supporter from Ohio. “He’s fighting for us, not some abstract idea of freedom abroad.”
Looking Forward
As America navigates this polarized era, the legacy of growing up under the specter of sacrifice continues to shape its politics. The tension between duty to global ideals and frustration with domestic neglect has created a volatile electorate, open to leaders who promise to prioritize “America First.” While the fascist label remains contentious, the MAGA movement’s rise reflects a deeper truth: a generation that internalized the cost of freedom has redefined what it means to fight for it, for better or worse.
For now, the debate over Trump’s ideology and the MAGA movement’s direction persists, but one thing is clear: the scars of a childhood spent expecting to die for Europe’s freedom have left an indelible mark on America’s soul, shaping a political landscape that is as divided as it is determined.
WPS News invites readers to share their perspectives on how historical sacrifices have influenced modern politics. Email us at letters@wpsnews.com.
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