If you are a worried conservative, take a deep breath and try to relax. If you follow politics closely these days, as many conservatives do, you are likely to be agitated and suffering from high blood pressure. My political awareness began sometime around Goldwater's run for president. Those were good times, even though LBJ soundly trounced Goldwater by almost 23%! Yet, the next day, there were no riots in the streets, no calls for violence, or anyone marking that day as the beginning of the end of America. We took it in stride as Republicans and conservatives do. And, as a country, we were relatively happy, patriotic Americans even when we lost. Even Dems, when they lost, mostly handled disappointment the same way back then.
My, how things have changed.
LBJ was many things, but today's progressives would disown him. They'd say he's "A corporate, establishment Democrat masquerading as a reformer" or "A war hawk who can't be trusted with foreign policy" or "A relic of the past who doesn't understand modern progressive priorities" and "Good on civil rights, but that's not enough" or lastly "Another Biden‑style moderate who talks big but won't deliver structural change." In other words, they would skewer him as a DINO—a Democrat in name only. He, like Kennedy, would have no place in American politics, and the left would destroy them both. So much for any connection between Democrats back then and what they call themselves today, bearing zero resemblance to what Democrats once stood for.
Mid-century Democrats like Truman, Kennedy, and Johnson rooted their politics in a muscular, unapologetic Americanism that treated patriotism as a civic duty rather than joining a cult. They, too, believed the United States was a force for good in the world, spoke openly about our greatness, and saw assimilation, shared identity, and loyalty to American institutions as fundamental to a country's cohesion. Their liberalism operated inside a recognizable patriotic framework: expanding civil rights, fighting poverty, and strengthening the middle class were all understood as furthering the American Dream, uniting us and making us more competitive. We were Americans first. By contrast, today's Democrat Party is controlled by a powerful progressive/Marxist wing that treats traditional expressions of patriotism with outright hostility, viewing it as exclusionary, nationalistic, or supportive of historical injustices. Where Democrats of the past celebrated American exceptionalism, progressives today emphasize systemic flaws, structural oppression, and America plundering the rest of the world as their rallying cry. Witness the dramatic shift: a party once anchored in confident national pride now seems unified in a belief that Americanism is no longer a unifying ideal, but instead a patrician relic to be expunged.
The question is: why the shift? This is particularly important, with the understanding that America, with all its faults, has reduced real poverty (regardless of what you've been told), seen an increase in longevity overall, has undoubtedly been a force for good globally, and essentially guaranteed a market basket of social services and safety nets for all citizens. This in itself is a demarcation split with the old guard, as new Democrats no longer believe someone needs to be a citizen to access America with all its goodies.
For many Americans, the puzzle isn't simply that Democrats have moved to the far left on policy — it's that a significant faction of the party no longer believes in the very idea of American exceptionalism. The older Democratic Party, whatever its flaws, believed deeply in the American experience: that the country was imperfect but fundamentally good, capable of self‑correction, and worthy of loyalty.
Today's progressive movement starts from the opposite premise: that America is defined primarily by its sins, not its achievements. This worldview didn't emerge overnight. Over decades, it grew methodically with the overt actions of academics, teachers' unions, constant cultural criticism, and activists, many supported by foreign money, hammering the belief that patriotism masks oppression rather than a unifying virtue. When you teach two generations that the nation's founding was illegitimate, its institutions irredeemable, and its global role harmful, you inevitably produce a political movement hostile toward America, creating a false morality believed by millions of empty minds.
That's why achievements like reduced poverty, longer lifespans, and a broad social safety net no longer matter— they're dismissed as insufficient or tainted by the fundamental imperfections of our "colonial" system. Gratitude for what America has accomplished is treated as being naive, and patriotism is recast as evil complicity. The result is a party that was once mainstream is now struggling to articulate why America is worth defending at all.
What's impossible to ignore is the extent to which this new progressive narrative aligns perfectly with the interests of America's adversaries. Nations that fear a confident, united, and self-assured United States have every incentive to amplify voices portraying America as fundamentally broken, morally illegitimate, or unworthy of global leadership. They understand that a country divided against itself can be manipulated, deterred, and defeated.
The more we teach Americans to distrust their own country, despise our history, and question the importance of citizenship, the weaker we become on the world stage. In that sense, the rise of modern progressivism isn't just a domestic political shift; it's a strategic gift to those who want to see America diminished. Our enemies don't have to defeat us militarily if they can convince enough of us that the nation isn't worth defending in the first place.
The stalemate with Iran is a perfect illustration of where this crisis of leadership and the rise of progressive narratives merge. A generation ago, American power was understood as a stabilizing force — imperfect, yes, but essential to keeping adversaries like Iran in check. Today, however, the dominant instinct in progressive circles is reflexive. It’s an aversion to projecting strength, distrust of American motives, and a belief that assertiveness abroad is further evidence of imperial intent. That mindset has paralyzed us. Iran reads our internal division as weakness, our moral self‑doubt as a gift, and our vacillating messaging as an invitation to stonewall. The result is a foreign policy that neither deters aggression nor advances American security. The Iran impasse isn't an isolated failure — it's the logical outcome of a political movement that no longer believes America has the right, or even the legitimacy, to lead.
Author, Businessman, Thinker, and Strategist. Read more about Allan Feifer, his background, and his ideas to create a better tomorrow.
https://www.americanthinker.com/articles/2026/05/a_political_theory_of_everything.html
