Whether Biden returns the favor next January or will be writing to his own deputy Kamala Harris is beyond the ken of FP’s editors. Instead, we asked nine thinkers from around the world what they would say in a letter to the next U.S. president. Whichever candidate is victorious in November’s presidential election, he or she will face long-term challenges stemming from a shifting world order in which the United States is no longer the sole hegemon. With its international role very much up for debate, and the ramifications of that debate far-reaching, some of our contributors chose to address Americans directly. These letter writers would likely disagree with some of each other’s advice, but we hope the next president heeds it all. There are no turkeys here—not until Thanksgiving, anyway.

The tradition started with a cartoon elephant and some turkeys. On Jan. 20, 1989, before leaving the Oval Office for the last time, Ronald Reagan put pen to paper with some advice for his vice president and successor, George H.W. Bush. “You’ll have moments when you want to use this particular stationery,” Reagan wrote on a notepad illustrated by children’s book author Sandra Boynton. The caption? “Don’t let the turkeys get you down.” As with so many elements of political life in the United States, Reagan’s influence is still felt, as U.S. presidents continue to leave their successors handwritten missives. Most recently, Joe Biden described Donald Trump’s as “shockingly gracious.”

The tradition started with a cartoon elephant and some turkeys. On Jan. 20, 1989, before leaving the Oval Office for the last time, Ronald Reagan put pen to paper with some advice for his vice president and successor, George H.W. Bush. “You’ll have moments when you want to use this particular stationery,” Reagan wrote on a notepad illustrated by children’s book author Sandra Boynton. The caption? “Don’t let the turkeys get you down.” As with so many elements of political life in the United States, Reagan’s influence is still felt, as U.S. presidents continue to leave their successors handwritten missives. Most recently, Joe Biden described Donald Trump’s as “shockingly gracious.”

Whether Biden returns the favor next January or will be writing to his own deputy Kamala Harris is beyond the ken of FP’s editors. Instead, we asked nine thinkers from around the world what they would say in a letter to the next U.S. president. Whichever candidate is victorious in November’s presidential election, he or she will face long-term challenges stemming from a shifting world order in which the United States is no longer the sole hegemon. With its international role very much up for debate, and the ramifications of that debate far-reaching, some of our contributors chose to address Americans directly. These letter writers would likely disagree with some of each other’s advice, but we hope the next president heeds it all. There are no turkeys here—not until Thanksgiving, anyway.

—Amelia Lester, deputy editor

Embrace the Frustrations of Compromise

From Martin Kimani, executive director of New York University’s Center on International Cooperation and former Kenyan ambassador to the United Nations

A photo illustration shows red and blue boxing gloves holding a U.S.-shaped Constitution with "We the People" on it.

Dear Americans,

You are the only ones who can choose between Kamala Harris and Donald Trump this November, but your decision will ripple across the world. It will decide war or peace, tyranny or democracy, poverty or prosperity far beyond your borders. For a century, the United States has been at the center of global events. It has championed humanitarian action, economic development, human rights, and democracy. The U.S. victory against fascism in 1945 defined the world.

But your country has also broken international law and pursued disastrous wars and coups. Whether defensible or not, its actions have been driven by a strong political center, supported by a bipartisan understanding of America’s role in the world. Now, that center has been shaken—perhaps even broken—by hyperpartisan politics.

Before the January 2021 insurrection at the U.S. Capitol, I had never imagined that the United States could be vulnerable to major postelection violence. Now, millions of people worldwide, myself included, fear that the November election is at risk of fraud, intimidation, and a contested transfer of power. An America consumed by internal political wars and unable to meet its global commitments would create a geopolitical vacuum. Rising powers such as China, determined to end U.S. dominance, would likely fill this void. The trend toward authoritarianism could accelerate, leaving millions more people disempowered and endangered.

Harris and Trump should be pressed on their understanding of how much U.S. democracy is harmed by the country’s pursuit of supremacy, which necessarily demands a national security establishment that frustrates citizen oversight, an entrenched foreign-policy elite quick to resort to force and slow to pursue diplomacy, and an imperial presidency. But regardless of their answers, the United States will lose its global influence in the event of a crisis during or after the November election that destroys its ability to solve problems at home.

Some of my African friends have noted that the situation in the United States is beginning to resemble elections in their own countries, where fear looms due to the threat of violence, fueled by politicians weaponizing ethnic or religious identities. Americans may not think struggling democracies have much to offer them, but lessons must be learned from the unlikeliest corners. Certainly, my country, Kenya, has faced—and tried to resolve—more than its fair share of electoral crises.

In August 2017, Kenya held a general election. The results were annulled by the Supreme Court due to irregularities and illegalities in the transmission of results. We had suffered a civic breakdown a decade earlier, resulting in more than a thousand fatalities and the displacement of hundreds of thousands of people. So the decision by the court reopened the door to a crisis we had only recently escaped.

The court ordered a rerun that October, but the opposition candidate, Raila Odinga, withdrew, claiming that the electoral commission had not made sufficient reforms to ensure a free and fair election. That withdrawal handed incumbent President Uhuru Kenyatta an easy victory. The opposition responded with rallies and protests to delegitimize the government and its institutions. Fringe politicians took center stage, and tensions rose as voices within the opposition called for secession.

One morning in February 2018, as political unrest continued to roil Kenya, I received a call with instructions to drive to a villa in Nairobi. As a security official, I was accustomed to receiving sensitive tasks, but I still was surprised when I found Kenyatta seated with Odinga. The only other person in the meeting was one of Odinga’s most trusted aides. The principals informed us that they had been meeting secretly to address the political crisis. They had concluded that Kenya could not sustain its democracy without working together to resolve the underlying disagreements that so often led to postelection violence.

Our instructions were to take their key observations and turn them into an agenda for change. Guided by them, and after much passionate debate, we produced a nine-point agenda committed to addressing foundational challenges—including making our electoral system fit for purpose, combating high-level corruption, and building an economy where the gains benefited the entire country, not just those favored by those in power.

A month later, Kenyatta and Odinga held a press conference where they issued the points we had agreed on in a communiqué titled “Building Bridges to a New Kenyan Nation.” A nation on the brink of civil and political violence was instantly calmed as two former foes shook hands and committed to a bipartisan process of reform and change.

The handshake helped Kenyans realize that their long-lasting political rivalries—and the intense feelings of outrage and even hatred they felt—were driven by deeper dynamics than the actions of two leaders or parties. They were presented with a practical agenda for transformation, supported by the country’s major political figures. The communiqué was then handed to a national task force to develop a comprehensive report for government adoption that would propose legal and constitutional changes.

The task force traveled across the country, engaging thousands of citizens from all walks of life. Although the courts, once again displaying an admirable independence, later halted the process on constitutional and procedural grounds, the effort was successful in averting the kind of crisis we had experienced after previous elections. Today, Kenya is navigating a political storm caused by some of the same fundamental problems that prompted our efforts in 2018.

Just as Kenya grappled with the challenges of political division, the United States, too, stands at a crossroads where the stability of its democracy is at risk. Framing this election as an existential battle, the leading candidates and parties are on a perilous path. Misinformation and disinformation are being issued at industrial scale, eroding trust in institutions and shared solutions. These tools may also be used in November to delegitimize the tabulation and transmission of electoral results. And in a country where surveys show that too many citizens believe in the utility of political violence, there is a real risk of localized, and potentially more severe, breakdowns in public order.

As important as the choice is between Harris and Trump, the truth is that the roots of America’s dangerously divided politics run deeper than their contest. They can only be addressed through a bipartisan effort that prioritizes the political center over the extremes. This will require a series of interconnected efforts across the United States that create avenues for dialogue among radically opposed political groupings and allow for the joint identification of shared values and common purpose. It means that Americans must do more than vote and retreat in order for this great experiment in a government “of the people, by the people, for the people” to survive. Democracy is a delicate flower, unendingly exposed to harsh winds. Nurturing and protecting it is a mission for every generation.

Americans must demand bridge-building from your leaders. You must insist that their political agendas acknowledge the essential humanity and grievances of the opposition. In so doing, you will embrace the frustrations of compromise and the pragmatism required to sustain a free and secure American republic.

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Isolationism Doesn’t Protect

From Arancha González, dean of Sciences Po’s Paris School of International Affairs and former Spanish foreign minister

An illustration shows a U.S. flag umbrella sheltering a tiny globe.

Dear Americans,

You will soon go to the polls to elect your next president. And once again, the rest of the world will be holding its breath. I will be following the vote count with a mix of admiration, expectation, and concern: admiration for your democracy and its ability to reinvent itself even when faced with serious challenges; expectation because the United States is a model that we all want to follow; concern about your temptation to isolationism. In a nutshell, your choice matters to you and your future but also to millions of people around the world, including in Europe. I hope, therefore, you will not mind me humbly providing unsolicited advice.

Your biggest asset is trust: the faith you have in yourselves and your ability to overcome and the confidence that your f