Why the Political Air in 2025 Feels Strange

— A Power Transition Without Ceremony, Yet Full of Restlessness

By | Hearing Each Other 

If you had moved abroad at the beginning of 2025 and returned in the summer, just like me, you might be surprised at how calm everything seems on the surface.

Trump really is back—but not with the roaring crowds or seas of red hats many imagined. At his second inauguration in the White House, the weather was cold, the crowd sparse. One outlet even remarked: “It felt like a CEO quietly returning to the office to begin an internal audit.”

That’s strange. Strange that a country so polarized could greet a major turning point with such eerie indifference.

And the strangeness doesn’t stop there.

Biden Stepped Down Without a Sound

Biden is arguably one of the quietest presidents to leave office in U.S. history. He didn’t remain on the speaker circuit like Obama, nor did he immerse himself in humanitarian work like Carter. After the 2024 election, he slipped quickly from the public eye—as if even he no longer believed the Democratic Party could meaningfully organize opposition in this country.

In 2025, the Democratic Party resembles a ship that’s lost its rudder. Older moderates are retiring or staying silent. The progressives, once vocal and fiery, have either turned inward in infighting or shifted to local projects.

It feels like a dynasty that just lost a war—still standing, but no longer with anyone left willing to sing its praises.

Trump Has Returned—But Not With the Old Fire

Many expected him to storm back: purge the media, smash institutions, bring chaos. But halfway through 2025, what we’ve seen instead is delay, caution, calculation—a desire to hold power rather than to destroy.

He rolled out the One Big and Beautiful Bill Act, calling it the signature policy of his second term. In practice, it feels like a stitched-together compromise: appealing to the grassroots while appeasing the donor class.

What’s most unsettling isn’t that Trump has changed—it’s that the system has. Courts no longer resist with clenched teeth. The media doesn’t criticize like it did in 2016. Corporations have learned to coexist with an emperor.

Everything looks orderly on the surface—but behind that order is a stifling sense of resignation.

Why Have Progressives Gone Quiet?

Not long ago, the American left burned with energy—bringing together students, workers, environmentalists, and communities of color. They championed the Green New Deal, student debt cancellation, Medicare for All, union revival.

But by 2025, they’ve all but disappeared from the national stage.

It’s not that no one is speaking. It’s that the air has changed. Voter fatigue, media disinterest, and internal exhaustion within the Democratic Party have left progressives adrift, asking, “Who’s even listening anymore?”

They’re still active on TikTok and in local politics, but on the national stage, they’ve become outsiders. As if a movement was paused—waiting for history to turn again.

The People in the Middle Are the Most Uneasy

Not everyone follows politics, but almost everyone is waiting—at least a little—for something to change.

By mid-2025, people have grown used to policy changes humming in the background. Some measures have taken effect; others are in the pipeline. Some rules are on the books, others still waiting for details.

In this environment, most people haven’t felt a shock—but they also don’t know what to expect.

They’re not angry at a particular policy. But between the headlines and their daily lives, a thin fog has settled:

• “That tax credit sounds like it’s ending, but does it even apply to me?”
• “There’s talk of new support for education and healthcare—next year? Or the year after?”
• “They say benefits are increasing, but some deductions might be cut. Should I be doing something now?”

There are no clear answers. Nor is there urgent need for them. But over time, the questions accumulate—creating a mood that’s part waiting, part watchful. Not quite anxious, not quite hopeful. More a quiet hesitation that makes it hard to take a stance.

For most people, it’s not about belief or ideology. It’s simply:

“I just want to know if I can keep living as I have.”

In this landscape, middle-class voters, freelancers, young parents, small landlords—they all fall into a vast zone of quiet waiting:

They’re not in a rush to judge, but they care about timing.
They don’t reject policy, but they want clarity.
They haven’t disengaged—but they haven’t seen a reason to reengage.

And this mood, too, is part of the political climate.

Is This a Suppressed ‘Stability’—or the Calm Before a Storm?

The strangest thing about 2025 isn’t the shouting. It’s the silence.
It’s not about who is speaking—but who is no longer speaking.

The media has lost its fervor. The parties lack strategy. Voters drift without direction.
This country feels like someone with a mild concussion—still walking, but having forgotten the accident just behind them.

No one knows if 2026 will change anything. No one dares say democracy is on the mend. But this much is clear:

We are entering an era where what once felt certain no longer holds.

And we have yet to learn how to choose in a time like this.

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Editor’s Note: “An era where what once felt certain no longer holds”: This refers to the institutions and norms we once trusted—democracy, elections, public legitimacy, the rule of law, civil rights—which are slowly losing their reliability and predictability. Though they still exist in form, more and more people have stopped believing they can truly protect them.