Standing on the Bridges: A Three-Part Reflection on Where We Are and Where We Must Go

By Jamie Cunningham

Part 1: The Divide in America

Since Memorial Day of 2025 we have been standing on bridges across New Hampshire.

What began as a small call to action, just a handful of people showing up on overpasses with signs, has grown into a statewide network of bridge communities. Week after week our members gather above the highways, speaking to thousands of motorists with a simple message: democracy still matters.

From up there you get a vantage point not just of the road below and above, but of the country itself. You see the divide. Some drivers wave enthusiastically. Some honk their horns in support. Some give a quiet nod of recognition as they pass beneath us. Others roll down their windows and shout. Some glare. Some give us the middle finger.

All of it is information. All of it tells the story of a nation that is struggling with itself.

The political polarization in this country did not happen overnight. Trust in government

institutions has been declining for decades. Surveys from organizations like Pew Research Center and Gallup consistently show that Americans have lost confidence in government, media, and political leadership.

Into that vacuum stepped Donald Trump, a political figure who channeled anger and resentment toward institutions many Americans already distrusted. For millions of Americans, he represents rebellion against a system that failed them. For millions of others, he represents a profound threat to the constitutional order itself.

Those two interpretations now collide daily in our politics. The result is a country living in two realities. Each side consumes its own news sources, its own social media streams, its own narratives of what is true and what is false.

The divide is not just political anymore. It is cultural. It is psychological.

It is informational. And it is dangerous.

History shows that when democracies become this polarized, the ground becomes fertile for authoritarian impulses. The attack on the U.S. Capitol during the January 6 United States Capitol attack demonstrated just how fragile democratic norms can become when citizens stop trusting elections, institutions, and each other.

But here is another truth that must be said: Trump did not create all of America’s problems. He exposed them. Long before Trump, many Americans felt ignored by political elites, economically displaced by globalization, and culturally dismissed by institutions they once trusted. Those grievances were real. If we are ever going to rebuild this country, we must be honest about that history. And honesty must begin everywhere including within our own political camps.

Part 2: What the Bridges Are Teaching Us

Standing on a bridge week after week changes your perspective. At first, it feels like a protest. But over time something deeper begins to happen. Communities form. Each bridge becomes its own small pod of people. Volunteers get to know each other. Bridge captains coordinate actions. People bring creativity to their signs and messaging. We look out for each other. We train in safety. We communicate across bridges. We support one another when the emotional weight of these times becomes overwhelming.

Without really planning it, the Bridge Brigade has become something larger than a protest movement. It has become a model of grassroots civic life.

In a country increasingly defined by online arguments and algorithm-driven outrage, the bridges represent something rare: people showing up in the physical world together. We are not anonymous avatars shouting into social media feeds. We are neighbors standing shoulder to shoulder above the highways of New Hampshire. Drivers who pass beneath us are reminded of something simple but powerful. Democracy is not abstract. It lives in the actions of citizens.

When you stand on a bridge week after week, something interesting happens. You begin to see patterns—not just in the flow of traffic below you, but in the flow of the news and politics around us. The cars come in waves. Morning rush. Afternoon lull. Evening surge.

The news works the same way.

Since the beginning of Donald Trump’s second presidency in January 2025, the United States has been living inside that kind of storm. If you step back and look carefully at the timeline of the past year, a clear pattern emerges. One headline crashes into another. Yesterday’s crisis becomes today’s forgotten story. Before anyone has time to digest what just happened, a new controversy or emergency arrives to take its place. We are hit by a barrage of news cycles that makes one’s head spin. Add in Trump’s attention getting antics and outrageous statements you see a distraction pattern happen that can be conceived as being an intentional and a willful strategy by

the Trump administration. It’s called “flooding the zone.”

Our job on the bridges is not consumed by all the distraction and chaos but to simply show up and remind people that democracy matters and they we are not alone. Of special concern are the citizens in cars that see us and do not react in any way.

Political scientists studying public opinion have long shown that unexpected political cues disrupt passive thinking. One major framework is the Spiral of Silence theory developed by: Elisabeth Noelle-Neumann. Her book, The Spiral of Silence: Public Opinion—Our Social Skin (1984), explains that people often hide their political views if they believe they are in the minority. But when they suddenly see others publicly expressing those views, the psychological signal changes. The message becomes: “I’m not the only one who thinks this.” Bridge protests send exactly that signal. We learn that visibility matters.

The work being done by the New Hampshire Bridge Brigade for Democracy is not just symbolic. It performs three concrete democratic functions.

First, it breaks isolation for citizens who feel alone in their political concerns.

Second, it signals democratic participation to the broader public.

Third, it keeps civic conversation alive between larger national protest events.

In other words, the bridges act as a kind of weekly heartbeat for democratic visibility.

Every week thousands of people see our signs. Some of those people agree with us immediately. Others may disagree. Some may simply feel curious. But the point is that we are present. We break the illusion that nobody is paying attention. And sometimes the most powerful thing citizens can do in a democracy is simply refuse to disappear.

Part 3: The Long Road to Rebuilding Democracy

If we are honest with ourselves, we know something else. America cannot simply return to the political world we had before this era. Too much has happened. Too many assumptions have been shattered. The institutions that once held our political system together, shared facts, trust in elections, respect for constitutional norms, have been deeply damaged. Rebuilding them will take time. And it will require something many Americans have forgotten how to do: and that is listening.

Republicans must confront the consequences of embracing authoritarian rhetoric and placing loyalty to a political figure above loyalty to the Constitution.

But Democrats must also acknowledge the ways in which many Americans felt ignored, dismissed, and culturally alienated long before Trump appeared on the scene.

Both parties have work to do. Both sides must be willing to examine their own failures. Only then can something new emerge. A healthier democratic culture will not come from domination by one party or another. It will come from rebuilding the principles that the Constitution was designed to protect rule of law, separation of powers, and the peaceful transfer of power. Those principles must apply to everyone. Without exception.

If America is going to regain the trust of its own citizens, and the respect of other nations, it must demonstrate again that its democracy is stronger than the personalities who temporarily occupy positions of power. That is the long road ahead.

Why We Keep Showing Up

Every time we gather on a bridge, we are doing something small that contributes to something much larger. We are refusing silence. We are refusing cynicism. And we are demonstrating that democracy still belongs to the people.

The work ahead may take years. But standing on those bridges, week after week, I see something worth believing in. A community of citizens who refuse to give up on their country.

And that is where renewal begins.