This is how I know the world is leavin the U.S. behind…

There are moments when you realize something fundamental has shifted, not because someone announced it, but because you felt it. For me, that moment came from the most unlikely of places: a Canadian TV show.

Not a political headline.
Not a global summit.
Not an economic report.

A TV show.

A warm, human, character-driven series called Wild Cards — the kind of show American networks used to make without irony or apology. The kind of show that would have been promoted, championed, and given a real shot. The kind of show that, in another era, would have been a hit simply because it deserved to be.

Instead, it arrived in the U.S. quietly. No marketing. No push. No fanfare. I found it accidentally because I was checking Martin Sheen’s IMDB page after listening to an episode of his podcast. A Martin Sheen didn’t move the needle on this show. A former Grey’s Anatomy star Giacomo Gianniotti who played Dr. Luca didn’t move the needle. A charming, grounded ensemble – didn’t move the needle.

And that’s when it hit me: the world isn’t waiting for us anymore.

We’re not the center of the cultural universe. We’re not the default tastemakers. We’re not even the ones making the warm, human stories people are craving. Other countries are doing it — and doing it better — while we’re still trying to squeeze one more quarter out of a franchise that should have been put to bed years ago.

This isn’t about nostalgia. It’s about noticing the cracks.

Because once you see one, you start seeing all of them.

The U.S. stopped protecting its storytellers

Canada funds its TV differently. They treat storytelling as a cultural good, not a corporate gamble. Their system is built to protect:

• ensemble casts
• long-term character arcs
• emotional continuity
• community-based storytelling

They don’t need to kill off a lead to spike ratings. They don’t need to shock the audience to stay alive. They don’t need to betray the emotional contract with viewers just to survive another season.

Meanwhile, here in the U.S., we’ve built a system where creativity is the first thing sacrificed when the quarterly earnings call looks shaky.

You can see it everywhere:

• the endless reboots
• the algorithm-driven writing
• the shock-value deaths
• the cancellations mid-story
• the hollowing out of mid-budget TV

We used to lead the world in storytelling. Now we’re chasing trends created elsewhere.

The 9‑1‑1 moment – The TV Show

When 9‑1‑1 killed off Bobby Nash, it wasn’t just a plot twist. It was a symptom.

A character who anchored the entire emotional ecosystem of the show — gone. Not because the story demanded it, but because the business model did. And yes, the ratings spiked. They always do when you blow something up. But that doesn’t mean the choice was good. It means the audience was curious.

My friends stopped watching. People who had been loyal for years. People who watched for the heart, not the spectacle. And while the numbers stayed steady, something else broke: trust.

That’s the part executives never measure.

If 9‑1‑1 were a Canadian show, Bobby Nash would still be alive. Not because Canada is “nicer,” but because their system doesn’t reward betrayal. It rewards coherence. It rewards craft. It rewards the long game.

We used to do that too.

Hollywood used to know how to build a hit

Old Hollywood would have taken a show like Wild Cards and said, “We can work with this.” They would have:

• negotiated co-ownership
• marketed it
• built a franchise
• leaned into the warmth
• trusted the audience

But the Hollywood that did that is gone. What we have now is a fragmented, risk-averse, algorithm-chasing industry that doesn’t know how to nurture anything unless it comes with a built-in IP universe and a guaranteed merchandise line.

And while we’re busy trying to resurrect the same five franchises, the rest of the world is quietly building new ones.

The world is moving on

Canada is making warm, grounded ensemble shows.
Europe is making prestige dramas.
Korea is making global hits.
India is building cinematic universes.
Latin America is exporting telenovelas with worldwide reach.

And the U.S.?

We’re rebooting reboots.

We’re cutting public arts funding.
We’re gutting public broadcasting.
We’re letting corporate mergers dictate creative choices.
We’re killing off the heart of our shows to chase a temporary spike.

We’re not leading.
We’re reacting.

And the world has noticed.

The quiet truth

The world isn’t leaving us behind out of spite.
They’re leaving because they don’t need us anymore.

They don’t need Hollywood to validate their stories.
They don’t need American networks to distribute their work.
They don’t need our cultural approval to succeed.

They’re building their own ecosystems — stable, funded, protected, and rooted in something we’ve lost: a belief that storytelling matters.

And that’s how I know the world is leaving the U.S. behind.

Not just because of politics.

Not just because of ideology.

Not just because of nationalism.

But because of all of it – every system, every choice, every shortcut – has chipped away at the very things that once made us a cultural force and that actually made America great.

We didn’t lose our place because someone took it.

We lost it because we stopped protecting the craft, the institutions, and the values that built it in the first place.

Until next time,

Carmen