Monday, February 9, 2026

The Four Branches of American Power — and How Compromised They Are

We are taught that the United States has three branches of government. 

Out checks and balances to protect the people. To protect democracy. To protect the nation.

In practice, it has always had four.

  • The Executive
  • the Legislature
  • the Judiciary, and 
  • the Fourth Estate

—Journalism—form a system of checks and balances meant to prevent exactly what we are now living through.

Under Donald Trump, that system has not merely been stressed. It has been deliberately compromised.

What follows is not a poll or a projection. 

These are judgment-based estimates—a way to make visible what otherwise feels abstract, normalized, or deliberately obscured.


Executive Branch — 90–95% Compromised

The executive branch is now the most damaged institution in American governance.

Trump has never treated the presidency as a constitutional office. He has treated it as a personal instrument. Loyalty is rewarded. Dissent is punished. Accountability is framed as persecution.

The United States Department of Justice, though nominally independent, has been pressured, hollowed out, or bypassed whenever it threatened personal consequence.

What integrity remains survives not because of leadership, but because of inertia—career professionals, internal processes, and laws not yet fully dismantled.

At 90–95% compromised, the executive still functions—but no longer reliably in service of the Constitution.


Congress — 80–85% Compromised

Congress did not lose its power overnight.
It abdicated it.

For decades, the United States Congress refused to reclaim authority ceded to the executive: war powers, emergency declarations, enforcement discretion, and meaningful oversight.

Under Trump, abdication hardened into submission. Oversight became performance. Accountability became conditional on party loyalty rather than constitutional duty.

At 80–85% compromised, Congress still convenes, votes, and speaks—but no longer consistently restrains executive abuse.

A branch that will not check power becomes complicit in its expansion.


Judiciary — 65–70% Compromised (and Uneven)

The judiciary is the most complex case—and the most misunderstood.

At the top, the Supreme Court of the United States has expanded executive immunity, weakened accountability, and narrowed the avenues through which presidential misconduct can be challenged.

Those decisions have shifted the presidency toward something dangerously close to untouchable.

But below that apex, the system has largely held.

Local courts. State courts. Lower federal courts. Judges applying evidence, procedure, and constitutional limits without regard to intimidation or spectacle.

That is why the judiciary is 65–70% compromised overall—badly damaged at the top, but still functioning as a democratic firewall at its foundation.

That distinction matters more than most people realize.

This Didn’t Start With Trump: A GOP Timeline

This is not a claim of a secret plot or single mastermind. It’s a retrospective timeline showing how a series of strategic choices, incentives, and norm-breaking decisions inside the GOP, beginning in the 1990s, steadily lowered guardrails and made an autocratic administration not only possible, but viable.

The GOP’s evolution setting conditions (whether intentionally or inadvertently) for an autocratic administration.

No analysis, no prose. Just Facts.

1994The Republican Revolution - Newt Gingrich begins lying to the American people on C-SPAN late at night to appear like he’s talking to a full Congress, in an empty room, setting the stage for imitating old Soviet Disinformation tactics that the GOP eventually takes on… with gusto.

1995–1999Permanent Opposition: Politics, to wit: “We look too much alike and must differentiate ourselves from the Democratic Party, at any or all costs, to any or all others, as long as it’s not the GOP.”

2000The Disputed Election Normalized: Questionable election win in a state where the winning presidential candidate’s brother is Governor. Did Democrats or the losing candidate serve up an insurrection? NO. Americans do not do that. Grace and decency rather than autocracy and immaturity.

2001–2008Security State Expansion: Fear drives America to trade freedom for security:“Those who would give up essential Liberty, to purchase a little temporary Safety, deserve neither Liberty nor Safety.”— exactly as Benjamin Franklin warned us.in 1755.

2009The Tea Party Insurgency: Conspiracy politics goes mainstream—QAnon before the branding.

2010Minority Rule via Structural Power

2012Radicalization After Electoral Loss

2014Media Ecosystem Capture

2015Strongman Candidate Emerges

2016Populism Overtakes the Party, Autocracy tests the waters.

2017Executive Power Stress Test

2018Institutional Loyalty Over Norms

2019Impunity as Precedent

2020Election Legitimacy Rejected

2021Coup Attempt Without Consequences

2022Normalization of Illiberalism

2023Party Subordination to One Man, one very, very defective man.

2024Return Campaign on Retribution, Vengeance and the demise of the US Constitution.

2025Autocratic Governance Phase I

2026Authoritarian Consolidation Phase: AKA, Executive Power Normalized. Democracy by Permission. The Autocratic State Stabilizes. Rule by Loyalty, Not Law. Autocracy Without the Coup.


Read. Then look again. This is the stupid, stupid regime logic we’re being saturated with today—as nonsense feels ever more normal:

  1. It Can’t Happen Here Authoritarianism via American populism. Elections, rallies, flags, courts…no tanks required.

  2. 1984 State power, loyalty enforcement, reality distortion. Criminalizing dissent and redefining truth.

  3. WeThe blueprint. Total transparency, worship of efficiency, individuality treated as pathology.

  4. The Handmaid’s Tale Theocratic authoritarianism. Rights removed “temporarily,” morality weaponized as governance.

  5. Animal Farm Revolution captured by elites. Language shifts, history rewritten, hierarchy returns instantly.

  6. Parable of the Sower Collapse through inequality, climate stress, and private power. Feels less like fiction every year.

  7. Brave New World Control through distraction and pleasure. Pacification beats repression when people cooperate.

  8. Fahrenheit 451 Censorship by apathy. Books vanish because attention spans and curiosity collapse.

  9. Oryx and Crake Corporate dominance and engineered catastrophe. Ethics outsourced to profit.

  10. The Iron Heel Oligarchy and crushed labor. Corporate power fused with state violence.

  11. Never Let Me Go Compliance through politeness. Atrocity survives because no one wants to be “difficult.”

  12. The Man in the High Castle Normalization after the fall. Fascism isn’t loud once it’s won…it’s administrative.

These books don’t contradict each other…they describe different phases of the same disease. Anyone citing them while advocating the systems inside them either didn’t read them, or read them as instructions instead of warnings.


The Fourth Estate (Journalism) — 35–45% Compromised

Journalism is not a formal branch of government, but it is a functional one. Without it, no other check operates in daylight.

Trump’s strategy toward the press has never been control. It has been delegitimization: flood the zone, exhaust the public, convince citizens that nothing is true and no one is trustworthy.

That strategy has worked—partially.

Corporate consolidation, collapsing local newsrooms, algorithm-driven outrage, and false equivalence have weakened journalism at precisely the moment it was most needed.

And yet, at 35–45% compromised, the Fourth Estate remains the least captured of the four.

Investigative reporting continues. Corruption is still exposed. Courts and citizens still rely on journalists to surface facts that power would rather bury.

Wounded, yes. Captured, no.

Which is why it remains under constant attack.


The Reality the Percentages Reveal

  • The executive has been personalized (90–95%).

  • Congress has surrendered its role (80–85%).

  • The Supreme Court has enabled executive overreach, while lower courts resist (65–70% overall).

  • Journalism remains the most intact check (35–45%), despite relentless pressure.

The two institutions that have most consistently slowed the slide toward autocracy are not the most powerful ones.

They are local and lower courts, and the Fourth Estate.

If those fail, there is no remaining mechanism to stop what follows.

Percentages make this unavoidable:

We are no longer arguing about direction. We are arguing about how much has already been lost.

The Final Variable: The Citizen

There is one factor these percentages do not capture, because it does not belong to any branch of government.

The public.

Citizens are waking up. They are organizing. They are protesting. And—quietly but measurably—it is working.

Trump has been pushed back. Not by deference, not by decorum, but by visible resistance. Congress, slow and reluctant, is beginning to stir—not out of principle, but out of pressure. That distinction matters, but so does the result.

What is most damning is not that citizens are acting. It is that they had to.

It should never require mass protest for a government to behave like a government. The institutions we enable, fund, and legitimize are meant to protect the public—not demand protection from it.

And yet here we are.

If there is a narrow hope in this moment, it is this: the Constitution ultimately rests not in buildings or robes or chambers, but in an engaged citizenry willing to insist that power answer to law.

That is not how a healthy system should function.

But it is how this one is being forced to remember itself.

Cheers! Sláinte! Na zdravie!


Monday, February 2, 2026

When a Nation Wakes Late, the Law Cannot Sleep

It took America too long to wake.

Warnings were sounded early. Norms were bent, then broken. Truth was degraded into performance, and cruelty was recast as strength. For years, many Americans dismissed what they were seeing as noise, exaggeration, or partisan conflict. By the time the danger was undeniable, the damage was already structural.

It cannot take any longer for the Rule of Law to finally awaken as well.

Trust in due diligence collapses under a president widely acknowledged to have autocratically subordinated the executive branch and the Department of Justice, while the Supreme Court of the United States increasingly appears aligned with executive power rather than standing apart from it. When the guardrails fail at multiple levels, legality becomes conditional, and accountability becomes selective.

That erosion deepens when the president in question, Donald Trump, has been adjudicated a sexual abuser, previously owned a teen beauty pageant, and publicly boasted of entering underage contestants’ dressing rooms unannounced. At the same time, despite years of evidence, reporting, and documentation, no one has been arrested in connection with the extensive Jeffrey Epstein materials. Justice delayed is not neutral. It signals protection.

The situation grows darker when press freedom itself comes under pressure. The arrest and charging of journalist Don Lemon in connection with his reporting has drawn sharp condemnation from press freedom and civil rights advocates. When journalists are treated as criminals for their work, while powerful offenders remain untouched, the inversion of justice is no longer theoretical.

It's coming...

Against this backdrop, claims by United States Deputy Attorney General and yet another petty Trump minion, Todd Blanche that this administration has prosecuted more child and young women abusers than any other ring hollow. Assertions that guilt can be determined merely by listening to alleged “lies in reporting” would be laughable if they were not dangerous. They come from an administration that has lied to the American public relentlessly, with tens of thousands of documented falsehoods during one term and continued deception since, despite narrowly escaping accountability between presidential terms.

This is not normal political turbulence. America has never suffered this degree of internal dissociation, where reality itself is under constant attack, where institutions meant to restrain power instead orbit it, and where cruelty, greed, and vindictiveness are elevated to governing principles.

The damage is not confined within national borders. A world that once looked to the United States now watches it diminished, petty, vindictive, greedy, and abusive, brought low by a small-minded and willfully ignorant figure defined by malignant narcissism, criminal behavior, and chronic deceit, foolishly returned to our White House, our Oval Office.

There is only one course of action.

The removal of this administration through due process, and the indictment and accountability of those responsible, pursued as though the very existence of the American experiment depends upon it. Because it does.

History is not patient. Neither is democracy. And the Rule of Law cannot afford to sleep any longer.



Cheers! Sláinte! Na zdravie!


Monday, January 26, 2026

America, A Love Story — Why I’m Thinking About Finishing It Now

In 2011, I was working with Hollywood producer on a screenplay titled America, A Love Story.

A woman...an outsider, a kind of “traveling angel” in the classic film trope sense...arrives in a small American town with no memory of who she is or where she came from. Unaware of her own purpose, she enters a community in quiet crisis...one that does not yet understand how much it needs her, but gradually comes to realize just how desperately her presence matters.


The project came out of a much older impulse. My original title was America, The Beautiful. I meant that literally and philosophically. The protagonist was beautiful inside and out—not flawless, not symbolic in a heavy-handed way, but recognizably human. Producer Chris pushed back on the title. After a long discussion, he convinced me to change it. Looking back, I think he was right. America, A Love Story left room for contradiction, tension, and earned meaning.

At its core, America is a woman.

She is in her thirties. She is a traveler. A witness. Something close to a “traveling angel” trope, but grounded and contemporary. She moves quietly from town to town and, in this story, finds herself in a small American community at a moment when people are being tested—politically, morally, emotionally.

She goes by the name Lucy.

Lucy appears to have amnesia. Or something like it. She does not fully know who she is or where she comes from, but she has an unshakable instinct for when something is wrong. She listens more than she speaks. She notices what people say when they think no one important is listening.

The story follows Max, the town’s mayor. He is not corrupt in the cartoon sense, but he is worn down. Pressured. Pulled between civic responsibility, political compromise, and personal doubt. Max wants to do the right thing, but the right thing has consequences—financial, political, social—and those consequences don’t fall evenly.

Lucy’s relationship with Max is not a conventional romance. It is revelatory. She reflects back to him what leadership actually costs when it is real, and what happens when compromise quietly becomes abdication.

Around them is a community under strain. There is an old Vietnam veteran. There are children watching and absorbing more than adults realize. There is a powerful local employer, a respected community figure whose greed and self-interest threaten to hollow out the town while being publicly justified as “necessary.”

The film isn’t really about patriotism in the chest-thumping sense. If anything, patriotism sits below more fundamental values: community, friendship, empathy, responsibility. It asks what love of country even means when it is separated from care for the people who live in it.

Lucy does not embody power. She embodies conscience. Compassion. Quiet wisdom. And unresolved promise.

The ending is unapologetically hopeful. It leans toward a Frank Capra resolution. Some people would call that trite. Maybe it is. But I’ve come to believe that hope, when it is earned rather than declared, is not naïve. In moments like the one we’re living through now, it may be necessary.

I don’t think America has needed a film like this more than it does right now.

And that’s why I’m giving serious thought to finishing it.

Not because it would be easy. Not because it would be fashionable. But because stories that center community over spectacle, conscience over power, and people over slogans are becoming rarer—and more necessary.

Some stories wait for their moment.

This one might finally be there

Author’s Note

This screenplay was initially composed and mostly written during a very different moment in American life. Revisiting it now has been less about nostalgia and more about recognizing how certain questions never really go away. If anything, they sharpen with time. I’m sharing these thoughts not as a promise, but as an acknowledgment that some stories wait until they are needed.

— JZ Murdock

FYI, I'm going to go back to once a week blogs for a while as I'm busy with projects. Two small documentary films and a much bigger one.

Cheers! Sláinte! Na zdravie!