James McGuire lives in Waldoboro.

For most of my life, I was taught to say “the United States of America” as if the words themselves carried a shared meaning. United implied common purpose. States suggested representation. America stood for opportunity, dignity and a fair shot for people willing to work.

For millions of Americans today, that language no longer describes reality.

What we are living in now looks far less like a united republic and far more like a set of divided territories governed by wealth. We still vote, still argue red versus blue, still wrap ourselves in familiar symbols, but the real decisions — economic, legal and political — are increasingly made far above the reach of ordinary citizens. The country is not broken because people stopped caring; it is fractured because power has concentrated where accountability cannot reach it.

We are repeatedly told that if people are struggling, they simply are not working hard enough. This story collapses under even casual scrutiny. The people keeping this country running — tradespeople, nurses, drivers, clerks, caregivers, teachers, etc. — are not idle. They are exhausted. Many work multiple jobs, yet remain one medical bill, one rent hike or one corporate “restructuring” away from financial collapse.

Meanwhile, those who shape policy often live entirely insulated from its consequences. They do not rely on public transportation, wait weeks for medical appointments or wonder whether the heat can stay on through winter. They speak easily about “belt tightening” and “market discipline” because they will never feel the belt or the discipline themselves.

Instead of addressing this imbalance honestly, we are encouraged to turn on one another. Cultural grievances are amplified. Political identities are sharpened into tribal markers. We are told our neighbors are the threat — immigrants, city dwellers, rural voters, liberals, conservatives — while the upward flow of wealth continues uninterrupted. Division is not an accidental byproduct of this system; it is one of its most reliable tools.

This is not a conspiracy theory. It is visible in plain sight. Courts increasingly reflect the interests of donors rather than the public. Legislation is shaped by lobbyists whose names never appear on ballots. Media outlets owned by a handful of corporations narrow the range of acceptable debate while presenting conflict as entertainment. Democracy remains in form, but not always in substance.

None of this negates patriotism. In fact, it demands a more serious version of it. Loving a country does not require pretending it is functioning as advertised. It requires telling the truth when it is not.

The promise of America was never perfection. It was participation — the idea that ordinary people mattered, that work carried dignity, and that citizenship meant more than obedience to economic forces beyond one’s control. When that promise erodes, so does the legitimacy of the system claiming to uphold it.

Calling this moment what it is — a drift from shared governance toward oligarchy — is not radical. It is descriptive. We cannot fix what we refuse to name.

If the United States is to become united again, it will not happen through slogans or symbolic gestures. It will require confronting how deeply wealth has warped representation, how fear has replaced solidarity and how often we mistake division for debate.

Until then, many Americans will continue to feel that they are living not in a nation built for them, but in one managed over their heads — the Divided States of the Oligarchs.