Trump's america: a retreat from justice, a surge in fear

The gilded promises of prosperity ring hollow as Donald Trump prepares to unleash another wave of policies that threaten the very foundations of American democracy and the wellbeing of its citizens. While stoking international tensions with bellicose rhetoric aimed at Iran, a deeper, more insidious dismantling of the American dream is underway—one marked by soaring debt, stagnant wages, and a chilling erosion of fundamental freedoms.

The price of 'freedom': a staggering military budget

The scale of the impending financial burden is staggering. Trump’s proposed 2027 military budget, a record-breaking $1.5 trillion—a 40% increase for the Pentagon—stands in stark contrast to the economic realities facing ordinary Americans. While families grapple with gasoline prices nearing $4 a gallon and credit card debt exceeding $1.28 trillion, farm bankruptcies have surged by 46%. The message is clear: Americans will foot the bill for an increasingly aggressive foreign policy, even as their domestic needs go unmet.

My own family’s story reflects this unsettling shift. Fifteen years ago, we left Fremantle, Australia, seeking opportunity in New York. We brought our three young children, all now U.S. citizens, with the hope of building a life rooted in the principles of justice and equality. But the recent climate of fear and authoritarianism has compelled us to make a difficult decision: we are returning home.

A personal reckoning: the center for victims of torture and the erosion of compassion

This decision wasn’t made lightly. For years, I served as president and CEO of the Center for Victims of Torture (CVT), the world’s largest organization dedicated to rehabilitating survivors of torture. Since 1985, CVT has offered clinical care to over 200,000 individuals from 88 countries, providing a lifeline to those who have suffered unimaginable trauma. But the return of Trump to power brought a swift and brutal reckoning.

Within days of his second inauguration, a mere $20 million in funding – a pittance considering the scale of the global need – was frozen, forcing the furlough of 430 dedicated staff members. Lifesaving programs in remote refugee camps across the Middle East and Africa were abruptly shut down, despite our desperate legal battles that reached the Supreme Court. The wounds from that defeat are still fresh.

Then came the ICE raids in Minneapolis. Six of our clients—legal residents, survivors of torture seeking refuge—were abducted from the streets, two seized during routine immigration check-ins. One, desperately texting his CVT therapist before being bundled into a car, sent a simple, heartbreaking message: “I need help.” The chilling reality is that in Trump’s America, even those who have endured the worst atrocities are not safe.

The shift in public sentiment: from disbelief to acceptance?

In 2016, the election of Trump was met with widespread disbelief. “This is not us,” was the common refrain, a testament to the deeply ingrained values of American society. But the arithmetic of the Electoral College propelled him into office despite losing the popular vote. This time, the outcome was different. Trump secured a clear victory, winning the popular vote by a margin of 77.3 million to 75 million in 2024. As a local colleague in Minneapolis observed with chilling resignation, “What frightens me is the realization I was wrong. People voted for this. This is who we are now.”

The specter of authoritarianism: silence, persecution, and fear

Trump’s ambitions extend far beyond mere political power. He openly expresses a desire to be a “dictator for one day,” echoing the tactics of North Korea’s Kim Jong-un, whose obedience he admires. Criticism, whether from late-night hosts like Jimmy Kimmel or former allies like Marjorie Taylor Greene, is swiftly branded as treason. Political prosecutions, like the attempts to indict former FBI Director James Comey, are already underway, and more are undoubtedly coming. Even fundamental rights, like protections for same-sex marriage, are under threat.

The atmosphere of fear is palpable. Latin American friends whisper in Spanish on the subway, African immigrants mask their accents. The threat of arbitrary detention by ICE agents looms large, regardless of legal status. For many, the dream of America has become a nightmare, a descent into a world where performative cruelty dictates government policy.

I leave the United States not with a sense of defeat, but with a profound sense of disillusionment. I will not bend the knee to an aspiring Caesar presiding from Mar-a-Lago. I return to Australia seeking a nation that still embraces the ideals of democracy, human rights, and the pursuit of knowledge—values that seem increasingly distant in the America I am leaving behind.