Every political choice carries a price. Every vote is a contract; every silence, a form of consent. Democracy is not only the right to choose but also the obligation to live with what has been chosen. Today, around the world, people are facing the consequences of their own political will. One of the clearest examples is Donald Trump.
Trump is not a cause, but a consequence. Not just of campaign slogans or media theatrics, but of a deep-rooted disillusionment—of a population alienated from institutions, unheard in the heartland, and weary of promises made from marbled halls. Yet an election is not merely an act of protest. It is a historical declaration. And that declaration echoes not only in voting booths but across courts, borders, and generations.
As Henry Kissinger once stated with clinical precision:
“Every political choice carries consequences.”
When people elect a leader, they do not escape the weight of that decision. Neither the system nor the leader is exempt from this burden—but neither is the electorate.
Trump’s rise was not an accident of history, but a sharp turn in its course. Voters saw him as “change”; the establishment saw him as “threat.” In the end, both were right. He challenged institutions, divided the media, and fractured the nation. But perhaps his most enduring legacy was to force a nation to confront itself.
We often hear the phrase: “We didn’t choose this.” But in democracy, not choosing is also a choice. Not voting is an act. Silence is power’s most loyal accomplice.
A leader is born from the collective spirit of a people—but then shapes that spirit in return. And we see the outline of that shape only years later, in the textbooks our children will read.
By then, the hardest questions may arrive too late:
“What did we vote for?”
“What did we remain silent about?”
“And why are we living this life now?”
No responses yet