2000 – 2010: Wars and the Collapse of Political Cooperation.
The new millennium opened with one of the most contentious presidential elections in U.S. history. The 2000 Bush v. Gore recount saga climaxed in a 5–4 Supreme Court decision effectively handing George W. Bush the presidency despite his losing the popular vote. Many Americans—especially Democrats—were left questioning the fairness and legitimacy of the outcome, a shock that began chipping away at public trust in the electoral process. The nation’s polarized mood was evident in protests and the enduring bitterness over “hanging chads” and halted recounts. Bush entered office under these fraught circumstances, presiding over the first unified Republican government in decades but with only razor-thin margins in Congress.
Hopes that Bush might govern as a unifier soon faded. Rather than temper his agenda to ease post-election tensions, the new president pursued a hard-charging conservative program. Within weeks, he issued orders like establishing a federal faith-based initiatives office—moves that some saw as divisive after such a narrow win. Bush also pushed through a large $1.3 trillion tax cut in 2001 with minimal Democratic support, signaling a breakdown of the bipartisan cooperation that some had expected in the wake of the disputed election. Partisan lines in Congress hardened quickly. By mid-2001, moderate Republican Senator Jim Jeffords defected from the GOP in protest over policy differences (notably the size of Bush’s tax cut), flipping Senate control to the Democrats. The early Bush years thus set a combative tone: Democrats were galvanized by the Florida recount fight, and Republican leaders, emboldened by their slim majority, pressed a partisan agenda. The legacy of the 2000 election was a poisoned well of distrust and a collapse of the centrist deal-making that had briefly seemed possible.
9/11 and the War on Terror: Unity Shattered by Iraq
The terrorist attacks of September 11, 2001 initially produced a rare moment of national unity. Americans rallied behind President Bush as he led the response; his approval rating soared to an unprecedented 90%. In Congress, Democrats and Republicans jointly authorized military action against Al Qaeda and the Taliban, and the near-unanimous passage of the USA PATRIOT Act just 45 days after 9/11 reflected a country largely united against a common enemy. This unity proved short-lived. As the immediate shock of 9/11 subsided, fault lines emerged over how to balance security and civil liberties. The PATRIOT Act’s expansive surveillance powers, passed in haste, soon drew criticism from across the political spectrum for infringing on privacy and First Amendment rights. An initial consensus to strengthen defenses gave way to debate over how much liberty to sacrifice for safety—a debate that would intensify in the years ahead.
The fracture exploded into the open with the run-up to the Iraq War. In late 2002, the Bush administration shifted focus from Afghanistan to Iraq, insisting that Saddam Hussein’s regime possessed weapons of mass destruction and ties to terrorism. Wartime patriotism gave way to controversy as many allies and a growing number of Americans questioned the rush to war on what later proved to be faulty intelligence.
Scarred by 9/11, a majority of the public initially backed the Iraq invasion in March 2003, but unlike Afghanistan, this conflict never enjoyed unanimous support. Prominent Democrats who had supported the war authorization soon accused the White House of misleading the country when no WMDs were found, and anti-war protests spread. By the time Baghdad fell, partisans were increasingly at odds: conservatives rallied around Bush’s doctrine of preemptive war, while liberals mobilized in opposition, viewing Iraq as a dangerous distraction built on false pretenses.
The Iraq War became the defining political fault line of the mid-2000s. What began as a moment of unity in 2001 splintered as the War on Terror expanded. The 2003 invasion, launched under claims that were later discredited by bipartisan investigations deeply divided Americans and alienated U.S. allies. As the insurgency in Iraq intensified and U.S. military casualties rose, partisan tempers flared at home. Democrats in Congress felt emboldened to challenge Bush’s strategy, while Republican leaders and conservative media fiercely attacked war critics as unpatriotic.
Revelations like the Abu Ghraib prisoner abuse scandal and debates over torture and Guantánamo further polarized discourse around national security and human rights. By Bush’s 2004 reelection campaign, Iraq overshadowed all else: supporters cast Bush as a steadfast commander-in-chief, while opponents decried “Bush’s war” as a tragic mistake. The unity of September 12, 2001 had long since evaporated, replaced by recrimination and mistrust between red and blue America over the conduct and honesty of the war effort.
Domestic Policy and Shifts in Party Identity
Even as foreign policy battles raged, domestic issues in the 2000s also fueled polarization and prompted both parties to redefine themselves. In education, President Bush reached across the aisle to pass the No Child Left Behind Act (NCLB) in 2002 with Democratic support, a rare bipartisan achievement. But that harmony was short-lived. NCLB’s emphasis on standardized testing and federal oversight of schools grew controversial and eventually unpopular on both sides, illustrating how even well-intentioned reforms could become polarizing. Teachers’ unions and many Democrats recoiled at what they saw as punitive measures against schools, while some Republicans grew wary of the expanded federal role in education. The initial cooperation between Senator Ted Kennedy and the White House in crafting NCLB gave way to finger-pointing as test scores lagged and schools struggled to meet mandates. By mid-decade, education policy had become another front in the partisan culture wars, with disputes over “teaching to the test” and local control splitting left and right.
Republican strategists openly pursued a realignment of American politics. Top Bush adviser Karl Rove championed a vision of a “permanent Republican majority,” aiming to lock in GOP dominance for a generation by energizing the party’s conservative base. This meant doubling down on socially conservative positions and evangelical voters. The Bush-era GOP increasingly intertwined its identity with hot-button values issues—opposition to abortion, promotion of faith-based initiatives, and a push for constitutional amendments to ban same-sex marriage. Rove’s team believed mobilizing Christian conservatives and “values voters” was key to maintaining power.
“If Republicans keep playing the religious card along with the terrorism card, this could last a long time”.
This strategy was on full display in the 2004 election, when Republicans in 11 states placed gay marriage bans on the ballot to drive turnout among conservatives. The effort was widely seen as aiding Bush’s reelection by rallying socially conservative voters, even if later analyses suggested the effect on Bush’s vote share was modest. Regardless, the GOP’s increased reliance on cultural wedge issues marked a shift – the party of small government was now equally the party of the religious right.
The Democratic Party, for its part, responded by shoring up its own base and embracing a more progressive tone on certain issues. During the Bush years, Democrats in Congress largely unified in opposition to the administration’s agenda, whether it was tax cuts, Social Security privatization (floated by Bush in 2005 and quickly beaten back), or judicial nominations. The Democratic base, energized by anger at Bush, pushed the party to take bolder stands. By mid-decade, figures like Howard Dean—who ran a passionate anti-Iraq War primary campaign in 2004—heralded the rise of a feistier, more liberal grassroots within the party. However, Democrats faced their own internal tensions, balancing moderates (especially those from red states) against an increasingly vocal liberal wing. Still, the overarching dynamic of the 2000s was a widening ideological chasm: Republicans tacked right and Democrats left, each seeing the other’s agenda as an existential threat to cherished values.
Domestic crises also exposed leadership failures that shook public confidence. In August 2005, Hurricane Katrina slammed into the Gulf Coast and breached the levees of New Orleans, triggering one of the worst natural disasters in U.S. history. The federal government’s response—widely viewed as slow, disorganized, and lacking compassion—inflicted severe damage on the Bush administration’s credibility.
Television screens filled with images of predominantly Black New Orleanians stranded on rooftops or in the Superdome without aid, cutting across America’s racial and political divides. A Pew survey found two-thirds of Americans (67%) believed President Bush could have done more in Katrina’s aftermath, and even 40% of Republicans criticized his handling of relief efforts. The disaster became a symbol of governmental incompetence. It wasn’t just Bush who took a hit—faith in public institutions plummeted. Katrina laid bare issues of race and poverty (many asked whether the response would have been faster if the victims were affluent and white) and eroded citizens’ trust that their leaders could manage a crisis.
The political fallout from Katrina further polarized the nation. Democrats assailed the Bush administration (and especially FEMA Director Michael Brown, famously criticized as unqualified) for negligence, while some Republicans sought to deflect blame onto state and local officials. The tragedy also fed into a broader narrative of dysfunction: by Bush’s second term, critics painted a picture of an administration staffed with cronies and ideologues, ill-prepared to govern competently.
By late 2008, only about 25% of Americans approved of Bush’s job performance,l near historic lows – reflecting exhaustion with wars abroad and failures at home. This collapse in public confidence set the stage for a demand for change in the coming election.
Economic Crossroads: The Early 2000s Recession and the 2008 Financial Crash
Economically, the 2000s were bookended by downturn and disaster, with a brief housing-fueled boom in between. The decade began with the end of the roaring ’90s tech bubble. In early 2000, the dot-com bubble burst spectacularly, wiping out trillions in stock market wealth virtually overnight. The Nasdaq index plunged almost 80% from its peak by 2002, and as investment dried up, the U.S. economy slid into a mild recession in 2001. Millions of Americans saw their 401(k)s and portfolios hemorrhage value, tempering the optimism of the late Clinton era. This downturn was exacerbated by the shock of 9/11, which disrupted travel and commerce. Unemployment ticked up, especially in the tech sector and manufacturing. In the early 2000s, iconic companies from the ’90s boom either went bankrupt or downsized, and towns dependent on tech or telecom felt the pain. Though relatively short, the 2001 recession set an uneasy tone and led to the first net job loss across a full presidential term since the Great Depression by the end of 2004, something Democrats highlighted in the 2004 campaign.
At the same time, powerful global economic forces were underway.
In December 2001, China joined the World Trade Organization, accelerating its integration into the world economy.
Factories and supply chains rapidly shifted overseas, contributing to a swift decline in U.S. manufacturing jobs. Research later estimated that the surging trade deficit with China eliminated around 2.8 million American manufacturing jobs between 2001 and 2018, accounting for the vast majority of factory jobs lost in that period. In the industrial Midwest and South, entire communities were gutted by plant closures in the 2000s, breeding economic anxiety and resentment toward free trade. While cheap imported goods benefited American consumers, the human cost in displaced workers and hollowed-out towns was becoming evident. This “China shock,” combined with automation, meant that even as GDP grew in the mid-2000s, many working-class Americans felt left behind. These trends sowed seeds of populist backlash that would fully bloom in the following decade.
After the early recession, the Federal Reserve slashed interest rates to historic lows, hoping to stimulate growth. Easy credit and excess global savings found their way into real estate, igniting an epic housing boom from 2002 to 2006. Home prices soared year after year, and millions of Americans took advantage of low mortgage rates and new lending programs to buy homes or refinance. Banks and Wall Street firms eagerly pumped out subprime mortgages to borrowers who previously might not have qualified, then packaged those loans into complex securities sold worldwide. For a few years, the economy seemed to be on solid ground: the stock market recovered, jobs grew (albeit slowly), and homeownership reached record highs. But beneath the surface, a housing bubble of monumental proportions was inflating. By mid-decade, warnings about an overheated housing market were largely brushed aside. Policymakers in both parties touted expanded homeownership as an unequivocal good, and few wanted to rein in the easy money flowing into subprime loans. As one analysis later noted, the boom was marked by “loose credit, rampant speculation, and general exuberance” – a classic prelude to a bust.
The bubble burst starting in 2007. Housing prices, which had peaked in 2006, began to fall, first gently then precipitously. As adjustable-rate mortgages reset and home values sank, delinquencies spiked. Mortgage-backed securities that had been rated as safe turned out to be full of toxic loans. The complex, interlinked financial system started to seize up in 2008 as major Wall Street institutions reported staggering losses tied to these assets. In March 2008, investment bank Bear Stearns collapsed and was taken over by JPMorgan in a fire sale brokered by the Fed. Over the summer, the crisis spread to Fannie Mae and Freddie Mac, the giant mortgage guarantors, which the government was forced to place into conservatorship. The breaking point came in September 2008 with the failure of Lehman Brothers, a 158-year-old investment bank. Lehman’s bankruptcy triggered a global panic: credit markets froze, the Dow Jones plummeted, and venerable companies like AIG, Wachovia, and Washington Mutual teetered on the brink. What had begun as a housing bust spiraled into the worst financial crisis since 1929.
In the weeks that followed Lehman’s fall, the Bush administration and Congress crafted a massive bank bailout to prevent total economic collapse. The $700 billion Troubled Asset Relief Program (TARP) was proposed to buy bad assets and recapitalize banks. This proposal met fierce resistance from an outraged public and initially failed in the House, as populist-minded lawmakers balked at rescuing Wall Street. Stock markets plunged nearly 800 points in a single day after the failed vote, forcing a re-vote that finally passed TARP in early October 2008. The emergency measures stabilized the financial system but did little to stem the pain on Main Street. By year’s end, the economy was shedding hundreds of thousands of jobs per month. Foreclosures swept the nation; over 2 million homes went into foreclosure in 2008 alone. Retirement accounts lost a third of their value. In a matter of months, America had gone from modest growth to the brink of another Great Depression. The Great Recession, as it came to be known, left a profound psychological impact on the country.
The crisis also fueled a wave of anger and political backlash. Ordinary citizens saw trillion-dollar bailouts for banks and wondered, “What about us?” A populist fury at elites took root across the spectrum. As observers noted at the time, the bailout stirred an intensely populist backlash that spanned left and right.
Voters vented at incumbents of both parties for the economic calamity. In early 2009, as unemployment climbed above 8%, protests against taxes and government spending began coalescing into what would be called the Tea Party movement. Meanwhile, progressives pushed for tighter financial regulation and relief for struggling homeowners, arguing that Wall Street’s recklessness had gone unpunished. The stage was set for a new era of political ferment. The 2008 financial crash not only ended American complacency about the economy; it also widened the divide between Main Street and Wall Street, injecting fresh distrust into American politics that would contribute to even sharper polarization in the years ahead.
The Culture Wars and the Fragmentation of Media
Cultural and social issues continued to drive Americans apart in the 2000s, increasingly amplified by a changing media landscape. The decade saw cable news and talk radio fully blossom as forces of polarization, feeding viewers and listeners news with an overt partisan slant. Fox News, launched in 1996, hit its stride in the 2000s as the highest-rated cable news network, championing a staunchly conservative perspective. By contrast, MSNBC—after a middling start—reinvented itself in the mid-2000s as a liberal counterweight, especially with fiery hosts like Keith Olbermann railing against the Bush administration nightly. These networks perfected the art of “narrowcasting” to partisan audiences. As one study noted, Fox and MSNBC’s success owed to “the public’s desire to stay within their ideological echo chambers,”creating “an endless cycle of political polarization” as demand for partisan content and the content itself reinforced each other.
Nightly, Americans could choose news that validated their existing beliefs, Fox for the right, MSNBC for the left, further anchoring people in rival realities.
Talk radio, too, was a major factor. Figures like Rush Limbaugh, Sean Hannity, and Laura Ingraham commanded tens of millions of listeners, mainly conservative, with daily tirades against liberals and constant culture-war themes. On the left, Air America Radio launched in 2004 to host progressive voices like Al Franken and Randi Rhodes, though it never matched the reach of its right-wing counterparts. The result was a media climate far removed from the era of three broadcast networks delivering a common narrative. By the late 2000s, over half of Americans cited cable news as their primary news source, eclipsing traditional networks and newspapers. The tone of political coverage grew more negative and hyperbolic; content analysis showed that strongly negative, emotionally charged commentary dominated these partisan outlets. This incessant drumbeat of us-versus-them media undoubtedly deepened animosities. Republicans increasingly distrusted mainstream outlets as “liberal media” and stuck with Fox or talk radio, while Democrats gravitated to MSNBC or left-leaning blogs. Each side not only disagreed on issues—they often couldn’t even agree on basic facts, having consumed completely different news.
The culture wars of previous decades also intensified. Battles over religion’s role in public life, LGBTQ rights, gun control, and other social issues became even more entwined with partisan identity. One flashpoint was same-sex marriage. In 2003–2004, court rulings in Massachusetts and the issuing of marriage licenses to gay couples in San Francisco thrust gay marriage into the national spotlight. Social conservatives reacted with alarm, and President Bush endorsed a proposed federal constitutional amendment to ban same-sex marriage. While that effort failed in Congress, the issue was effectively used as a political tool in the 2004 election. Republican strategists placed referendums banning gay marriage on state ballots (particularly in key swing states like Ohio) to boost conservative turnout.
The measures passed overwhelmingly in 11 states, and although there is debate about how much they swayed the presidential race, they underscored how wedge issues were wielded for electoral advantage. To many Republican voters, opposing gay marriage became a defining litmus test of values, just as supporting marriage equality and LGBTQ rights became increasingly important to Democrats’ cosmopolitan base. The two parties’ platforms on social issues grew ever more opposite: by decade’s end Republicans were firmly the party of traditional “family values,” while Democrats began embracing anti-discrimination protections and the first inklings of support for gay unions.
Other cultural fights followed a similar pattern. The post-9/11 period saw a rise in debates over civil liberties (like whether to allow warrantless wiretapping or how to treat Muslim Americans), often splitting along party lines. The debate over immigration also sharpened: during the 2006 immigration reform push, huge public demonstrations in support of immigrant rights were met with a backlash among conservatives opposed to “amnesty.” Abortion, as ever, remained divisive—Bush’s appointments of two conservative Supreme Court justices (Roberts and Alito) cheered the pro-life movement and alarmed pro-choice activists. Even the response to events like the Terri Schiavo right-to-die case in 2005 broke down predictably, with conservatives in Congress intervening to try to keep Schiavo on life support and liberals decrying it as government overreach into a private family matter. In short, nearly every social question became a proxy battle in the larger red vs. blue conflict.
Crucially, by the late 2000s a new medium emerged that would revolutionize political communication: social media. Platforms such as MySpace, Facebook (opened to the public in 2006), YouTube (founded 2005), and Twitter (2006) began to play a role in politics. Candidates and citizens alike started using these tools to bypass traditional media and speak directly to each other. During the 2008 campaign, for example, Barack Obama’s team leveraged Facebook and YouTube to organize volunteers and spread messages virally, while ordinary Americans for the first time could widely share political content online. Although still in its infancy, social media already showed the potential to both broaden participation and create echo chambers. Surveys at the time found that online “political users” were increasingly gravitating to sites that aligned with their partisan leanings, more so than in 2004.
Sites like Daily Kos and Huffington Post on the left, or Free Republic and RedState on the right, each cultivating their own communities. The fragmentation of media meant that by 2010, Americans could effectively live in parallel info-universes. The early seeds of our modern social media-driven polarization were planted in these years, as people began curating their news feeds to reinforce their viewpoints. While the full impact would not be felt until the 2010s, the late 2000s marked the dawn of a permanently altered media environment—one that tended to reward outrage, confirmation bias, and tribal loyalty, further driving the wedges in American society.
The Election of Barack Obama: Hope, Backlash, and the Emerging Tea Party
In November 2008, during economic uncertainty, Americans elected Barack Obama as the 44th president – a moment of profound historical significance. Obama’s triumph as the first Black president was greeted by many as a sign that America could transcend some of its deepest divides. He won on a message of “hope and change,” promising to end the Iraq War, heal partisan rifts, and rebuild the economy. The election saw record turnout, especially among young voters and minorities, who were inspired by Obama’s idealistic vision.
That night in Grant Park, Chicago, jubilant supporters felt that a new era was dawning; some spoke of a “post-racial” America and the potential for a less polarized politics. After the bitterness of the Bush years, Obama’s soaring rhetoric about unity (“There’s not a liberal America and a conservative America – there’s the United States of America,” he had said in 2004) raised expectations that the country could come together to tackle its problems.
Reality set in quickly. Even before Obama took office, conservative backlash was brewing. Right-wing talk radio and commentators labeled the young president-elect as dangerously liberal, if not “socialist,” and cast his victory as a threat to traditional American values. On Capitol Hill, Republican leaders made a fateful strategic choice: rather than seek common ground with the new president, they would largely unite in opposition. As Senate GOP leader Mitch McConnell candidly stated in 2010, “The single most important thing we want to achieve is for President Obama to be a one-term president”. This remarkable declaration signaled that obstruction, not cooperation, would be the Republican approach. Indeed, from day one of Obama’s term, partisan polarization arguably reached new heights. Congressional Republicans, nearly unanimous, voted against Obama’s early initiatives like the economic stimulus in February 2009, despite the economy hemorrhaging jobs. Any hopes of a post-partisan honeymoon were dashed as the GOP closed ranks against the president’s agenda, and Democrats, in turn, pushed through sweeping measures with little or no Republican support (from the stimulus to the Affordable Care Act in 2010).
Outside Washington, the backlash took on a life of its own in the form of the Tea Party movement. In February 2009, mere weeks after Obama’s inauguration, a CNBC reporter’s on-air rant against mortgage bailouts went viral and touched a nerve among conservatives and libertarians. By that spring, anti-tax and anti-“big government” rallies were erupting in cities across the country (echoing the Boston Tea Party anti-tax symbolism). These were fueled by anger at the Wall Street bailouts, fear of rising debt, and, for some, a nativist discomfort with the changing face of America under Obama. On April 15, 2009 (Tax Day), coordinated Tea Party protests drew tens of thousands of people nationwide. Grassroots activists—many new to politics—waved “Don’t Tread on Me” Gadsden flags and signs decrying everything from taxes to the Federal Reserve to the pending health care reform. The Tea Party channeled a broad populist fury against the government that had been simmering since the financial crisis. Although it was not a centrally organized movement, it quickly found champions on the airwaves (Fox News gave heavy coverage to Tea Party events) and in politics (figures like Sarah Palin embraced the cause).
By 2010, the Tea Party had reshaped the political landscape. Its energy powered the Republican Party to a sweeping victory in the 2010 midterm elections, flipping the House of Representatives in a self-proclaimed “Tea Party tidal wave.” Many establishment GOP lawmakers were replaced by more ideologically hard-line conservatives backed by Tea Party voters. The influx of these insurgents further polarized Congress, as moderation was increasingly punished in GOP primaries. Democrats, meanwhile, viewed the Tea Party with equal parts alarm and opportunity—alarm at the often extreme rhetoric (some rallies featured inflammatory slogans and even conspiracy theories like Obama being secretly Muslim or not born in America), but opportunity in casting the Republican Party as captured by an extremist fringe. In effect, each side’s base became more emboldened and more distrustful of the other. Any thought that Obama’s election would mellow America’s divides proved naïve; if anything, it brought tensions to a head.
Within the Democratic Party, Obama’s presidency also spurred an evolution. Obama himself was ideologically center-left, but his election energized more progressive elements who expected transformational change. The early Obama years saw Democrats enact liberal priorities—the stimulus with its expansion of social spending, the Dodd-Frank act reining in Wall Street, and finally the Affordable Care Act, the biggest new social program in decades. Yet disappointments set in as well: Obama did not achieve some promises (climate legislation, immigration reform) and he often sought compromise that frustrated the left. By 2010, some liberal activists were disenchanted, wanting Obama to fight Republicans more aggressively.
Still, the Democratic Party by 2010 had clearly moved in a more progressive direction compared to the 1990s, embracing a larger role for government in health care and showing greater willingness to challenge corporate power (a stance sharpened by the financial crisis). In contrast, the Republican Party, galvanized by the Tea Party, had swung further right, stressing constitutional originalism, slashing government spending, and vehemently opposing taxes or regulations. The middle ground continued to evaporate; moderate Blue Dog Democrats and centrist Northeast Republicans were a dying breed by the end of the decade, often ousted by more ideological challengers or retirements.
As 2010 closed, the United States found itself more politically polarized than at any time in recent memory. The contentious events of the 2000s, from the Florida recount to the Iraq War, from Hurricane Katrina to the financial meltdown, and from cultural clashes to the Tea Party revolt—had all contributed to pulling Americans into warring camps defined by starkly different worldviews. Trust in institutions had eroded, partisan media had blossomed, and the spirit of cooperation in Washington had largely collapsed into gridlock and recrimination. The decade ended with power divided (a Democratic president and Senate, a Republican House) and each side digging in. The stage was set for an even more acrimonious 2010s, as issues like immigration, debt ceilings, and social change would further test the bonds of the republic. In many respects, the 2000s were the inflection point – a period when the forces of polarization accelerated and locked in, leaving a nation fundamentally divided as it braced for the challenges of a new decade.
The Bush administration’s early partisan approach, including the large 2001 tax cuts, defied calls for post-election unity. After the unity of 9/11 (when Bush hit 90% approval), the Iraq War proved polarizing, especially as its WMD justification fell apartand the war ultimately “deeply divided Americans”.
Domestically, Karl Rove’s realignment strategy leveraged social conservatism (playing “the religious card” to build a lasting majority), exemplified by the use of gay marriage bans in 2004 to boost turnout. The Hurricane Katrina response further shattered confidence in government—two-thirds of Americans believed President Bush mishandled the crisis, a view shared by large majorities of Democrats and independents. Economically, the decade’s bookends were a recession and a financial collapse.
The early-2000s recession coincided with China’s WTO entry, which studies link to the loss of about 2.8 million U.S. manufacturing jobs by 2018. The 2008 crash, born from a housing bubble and subprime frenzy, led to the worst crisis since the Depressionand triggered a populist “bailout backlash” across the spectrum. Culturally, media fragmentation amplified polarization: Fox News and MSNBC thrived by catering to opposing ideologies, creating an “endless cycle of political polarization” through partisan content and audience demand.
By 2008, more online users were flocking to like-minded political sites, with significantly higher rates of partisan information-seeking than a few years prior.
Finally, the Obama era’s dawn saw immense hope collide with fierce backlash. Obama’s 2008 win carried “overwhelming optimism” and talk of unity, but Republican leaders’ stated priority of stymieing him and the rise of the Tea Party quickly drove polarization to new heights. The Tea Party’s emergence as a potent force by 2009 demonstrated how effective an oppositional grassroots movement could be in reshaping politics. All these factors made 2000–2010 an essential decade in explaining how America became so sharply divided heading into the 2010s, with partisan identities hardened and cooperation an increasingly scarce commodity.
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