In 1776, the authors of the Declaration of Independence proclaimed a new republic founded upon revolutionary ideas about individual liberty and political equality. Two hundred and fifty years later, however, many Americans — particularly young Americans — seem disillusioned with the world’s longest-running experiment in representative democracy.
Polling shows a sharp generational divide on questions of patriotism and democracy. A 2025 poll found only 36% of young adults said they are “extremely” or “very” proud to be an American (compared with 65% of those over age 65). In a 2023 poll, nearly one-third of youth agreed that “Democracy is no longer a viable system, and Americans should explore alternative forms of government” (compared to only 5% of those over 65).
There is, of course, a great deal of variation among America’s 50 million young people, and the twin challenges of instilling a love of country and democracy show up differently across class lines. Polling of the broader public finds that college-educated Americans, who are materially blessed, paradoxically express lower levels of patriotism toward their country than working-class Americans. At the same time, low-income and working-class Americans are much less likely to say that democracy is the best form of government.
What explains the loss of enthusiasm for America and its democracy, and what can be done about it? The best empirical evidence suggests a braided cord of explanations.
In an era of deindustrialization, leaders have failed to deliver on the core American promise of social mobility. In 2025, 70% of Americans reported they no longer believe that if you work hard, you’ll get ahead;5 and another survey found skepticism about the American Dream runs particularly high among young Americans. In addition, many Americans have been fed up with the inability of leaders to control the nation’s borders. Unlawful immigration generates a sense of social disorder and chaos and violates a deeply-felt belief that borders have moral significance because a nation’s people owe more to one another than they do to people from other countries. So too, elite failure to prevent the collapse of financial markets and to extricate Americans from foreign wars has further eroded people’s confidence in America and its democracy.
In addition, young Americans have grown up in an age of rising illiberalism on the political right and left. They have witnessed leaders on the right who have resisted the peaceful transfer of power, and articulated a disturbing vision of an America defined mostly by blood and soil. Meanwhile, on the left, many suggest it is acceptable to shout down speakers; that racial and ethnic identities are more important than a shared American identity; that America is defined less by the vision enunciated in 1776 than by white supremacy and the importation of enslaved people in 1619; and that America is more often a force for evil than good in the world. Finally, America’s education system has become so focused on particular identities, “global citizenship,” and careerism that it has failed to convey to young people the extraordinary nature of their civic inheritance. Young people of privilege, facing intense pressure to attend certain schools, secure plum jobs, and adopt certain opinions, lose sight of how fortunate they are to live in the world’s oldest constitutional democracy. Our schools and colleges dwell so heavily on negative aspects of the American story that an astonishing four in 10 Gen Z respondents are more likely to describe the Founders as “villains” than as “heroes.”
