The Future of US-International Exchange: Reflecting on my Time as a US Congressional Fellow

Recent developments in American political life have given rise to steep anxieties among layers of the country’s elites and citizens about its ability to inspire people around the world to aspire to more: more freedom, more democracy, more justice. There is a persistent yet mistaken belief among apprehensive Americans that their polis has little to offer the world now that it retreats into the trenches of polarization and America’s demise unfolds on the way to the 250th anniversary of the Declaration of Independence. Facing and engaging the rest of the world in such circumstances is no obvious deed, but then of course it never was. My own experience with the US political system as a Dutch national serving as a Lantos-Humanity in Action Fellow at the US Congress in 2017 may reveal some kernels for cultivating fruitful international exchange on different but no less meaningful terms. 

The Fellowship 

During my Congressional fellowship, I was placed in the DC office of a Congressman from New York and participated in an educational program consisting of site visits and off-the-record conversations with policymakers, civil servants, pollsters, journalists, civil society leaders, and campaign organizers up and down the East Coast. Those precious and strenuous six months were filled with thought-provoking and eye-opening conversations, which took place among others at the Pentagon, NASA’s Goddard Space Flight Center, the US Supreme Court, the International Student House, the Georgetown School of Foreign Service, the New York Times headquarters, the National Constitution Center, and the International Republican Institute. In addition, I got to live seemingly irreconcilable realities: attending Mr. Trump’s first inauguration ceremony on the National Mall one day and walking the first Women’s March in that very same city the next, feeling the deep disdain for ‘the other side’ held by people at both events.  

Changing Realities 

There was, already in those early months of the first Trump administration, at least outside MAGA circles, no pretending that things were great or even fine; there was no boasting, no overconfidence, which reared its head only occasionally in the tenacious conviction that the hard work of some individuals could resolve problems emanating from engrained societal structures. Even MAGA leaders and organizers appeared taken by surprise by Mr. Trump’s election victory, scrambling to turn soundbites into policies and facing the daunting task of governing a nation divided. From the White House came religion-based immigration bans, ripped up trade deals, doubt-inspiring affirmations of international security pacts, and cries to build ‘the wall’ and end universal healthcare. In the Congress, the classic pursuit of bipartisanship appeared ever more fanciful, and its ad hoc realizations predisposed to momentary evaporation in a parliament bereft of debate and haunted by the institution of the shouting match. The two parties underwent political and cultural realignment against the background of perceptions of unproductive government and an electorate increasingly consumed by fear, while suffering the influence of loyalty-demanding leadership, resurgent movements, and a playing field distorted by the operation of money and targeted information. A jumble of distress, anger, demagoguery, hazardous communication technologies, and a thinning social fabric—all harbingers not only of the deepening polarization to follow but also of violent scenes that would come to pass like the attack on protesters in Charlottesville, Virgina, in August 2017 and the insurrection at the US Capitol of January 6, 2021.  

The Contrast

The America I saw was a far cry from the (until rather recently) oft-portrayed exceptionalist image in European cultural and political discourse depicting the US as liberator, shining city on the hill, model democracy, global policeman and superpower, and successful socio-economic system symbolized by the promise of the American dream. These tropes had for decades shaped not only official government narratives but also many Americans’ self-image and its subtle or blatant projection in conversation with the not-so-fortunate species of non-Americans. Yet they are parts of a self-aggrandizing ideology which was, indubitably, always complicit in the concealment of racial, gender, and economic inequalities within its borders, to say nothing of America’s foundational sin of settler-colonialism which crushed native life and association on Turtle Island. This ideology, endlessly refined and reconstituted though retaining a stable core, also loaded up the Cold War rhetorical arsenal that blasted cultural, political, and economic superiority; after the fall of the Berlin Wall too, in the wake of history’s proclaimed end, that arsenal lent counterweight to the US imperialist infractions witnessed by international audiences on various occasions. 

Experiencing Vulnerability and Courage

With these developments constituting a far cry from the ideals of stability, openness, freedom, and equality, however, my interactions with America in early 2017 gained in depth and authenticity. In essence, I got to see up-close a nation and a political culture engaged in soul-searching and being open about that very endeavor. At a Baltimore neighborhood violence prevention organization, I was inspired by the tireless dedication of former gang members who made it their mission to extract local youths impressed by the seeming safety provided by weapons or oblivious to the prospects of the world beyond the block from endless cycles of violence. In DC, I was amazed by the energy with which an NGO sought to motivate and support women in running for public office regardless of party affiliation. And during a guided tour at the then recently opened National Museum of African American History and Culture, the richness and frankness of the societal introspection on display sparked in me an appreciation for the resistant and daring possibility of confrontation, resistance, and healing.   

Continuing Exchange 

Below the surface of ‘Only in America’ lies a nation wedged in between the rigidly read edicts of its founding fathers and the accumulated legacies of injustices such as slavery, Jim Crow laws, foreign interventions, the exploitation of the working classes, and countless school shootings. Yet discomfort with US history or shame of the country’s current political trajectory must not lead concerned Americans to close the shutters: it should nudge them to converse with the world on equal terms. The changed political environment that has materialized in the last 10 years or so offers the humus for rethinking the design and aims of international exchange; it presents a corrective to the typical encounter of the US as boastful friend, overlord, or savior. Having served as a Congressional fellow as a foreigner in a moment of political upheaval, I am now able to read America in a way virtually beyond reach in books or conversations with Americans abroad. To experience America’s diverse realities as an outsider is to look into a soul torn apart by conflicting convictions, unsure about its destiny but unable and unwilling to stop in its tracks. I now find it inconceivable to abandon America. Not because the country I got to know was flawless but because it showed me its imperfection in a candid portrayal of the American experiment. Ever since, I have been seized by an enduring interest in and infatuation with the idea(s) of America, its attempts throughout history to understand and redeem itself, and the echoes of the American experience around the world.