We Need Some Heroes

The Democratic leadership plays dead while scolding the rest of us to “do something.” What’s a despondent American to do?

Source: The Federal Theater Project via Artvee.

One afternoon in early 2017, a friend and I sat on my back deck, talking about the horrors unfolding daily in the news. I was getting increasingly worked up, fretting and stewing about what could we do? How could good people stop what was happening?

My friend looked at me with a little concern. “You know, it’s not your job to solve this,” she said.

That stopped me mid-sentence. Wasn’t it my job? As an American citizen, wasn’t it my job to raise up my fist and fight, fight, fight?

It’s not that I thought saving democracy and our ecosystem was exclusively my responsibility—I wasn’t that arrogant—but I felt like I should be on the case, puzzling out the best response. My friend kindly and gently pointed out that the current geopolitical crisis probably wasn’t going to be solved by a freelance writer pontificating in her backyard in Kingston, New York.

For the past several months, powerful politicians and public intellectuals have been chiding Americans distressed by the current regime to do something, even if the scolds are fuzzy on the details of what, exactly, should be done.

In The Connector newsletter,

Micah L. Sifry

reports that a mass training event held by the activist group 50501 was high on platitudes but low on practical training. Former U.S. House Representative Cori Bush told the crowd:

We can lead ourselves, like we don’t have to look for other people to do anything for us. You know what? We’ll do it ourselves. And right now, in this moment, that’s what you all have stepped up to do. That’s what you are doing. …. I’m saying to all of you, go figure out that thing. What is that thing that I have? What do I possess? What’s on the inside of me that other people may not have? Because there’s things on the inside of them that I don’t have. And when we put all of that together, we become like Voltron. You know, that’s what we need to do. In this moment, we need to be like Voltron, bring all of our gifts and talents together. … We’re going to look at who am I and what do I bring? Who am I for this moment? And then we’re going to push that forward.

Democratic leaders have also been leaning hard into the people-leading-themselves trope. After Senate Minority Leader Chuck Schumer voted to support the Republicans’ disastrous spending bill, MSNBC host Chris Hayes asked him to describe the role that the minority party plays when democracy is a risk. Schumer said he didn’t think democracy was at risk yet, setting the tipping point at the moment Trump disobeys the Supreme Court:

If that happens and the rule of law goes by the wayside, I believe that there will be very, very terrible, you know, there will be immediate and strong reaction from one end of the country to the other in ways that we have never seen. And that’s what will happen. And it’s not just up to us. The people will have to rise up, not just Democrats, not just Republicans, not just … you know, people, everybody. But our democracy will be at stake then. And if the people make their voices heard and are strong and stand up and we join them, I believe we can try to beat that back. We can beat that back.

If the rule of law goes by the wayside?

The thing is, nearly everyone I know wants to “do something.” But without any clear direction, the impulse is to simply get through our busy days. We’re not interested in finding that “thing inside us” or waiting for the catalyzing event that—unlike everything that’s happened so far—will send the population spontaneously rushing into the streets with pitchforks.

We want leaders.

I’ve always believed in the power of taking marching orders. In 2004, I boarded buses from New York City to Pennsylvania and Ohio to knock on doors for John Kerry. I’ve done some kind of election volunteering for most of the presidential and midterm elections ever since.

This has earned me a reputation among friends and acquaintances as a doer-of-something, and after the inauguration a few people approached me to ask about activism. My initial responses were not helpful, usually involving angry rants about the uselessness of the Democratic leadership.

“I’m done,” I told a friend.

“But how are you not going crazy?” she asked.

“I do yoga,” I said.

But I have a problem—this newsletter, where there is a clear record of me saying I want to do my part. This is a hazard of newsletter-writing. You present your best self to the world, putting your less-than-best self in a real bind.

So, what then?

Yoga has helped to keep me from going crazy, as has my dog, Polly, who is a constant source of joy and has no effing clue. I love meeting friends for pizza and not talking about politics, and sinking into the couch to watch The Pitt with my husband. (It’s a luxurious hour of watching emergency-room personnel deploy their vitally important skills; each episode makes me question my life choices.) I’ve taken the other standard mental-health measures—cutting back on social media, cable news, etc.

Ignorance is bliss.

But at a certain point, the burden of trying to ignore what’s happening becomes heavier than engaging it. Even though the following is written in the traditional self-help command style, these are really instructions I’ve come up with for myself.

Find your leaders

A few days after talking to the friend who asked how I wasn’t going crazy, I got an email from my local Indivisible group and passed it along to her. Knock yourself out. She wrote back to say she was going to the next meeting. I decided to join her.

The demographic was exactly what I expected: 90% women, 90% people with gray hair. Old ladies are the frontline warriors against autocracy. They’re the faces on the phone-bank Zoom, the anonymous door-knockers showing up to their congressman’s office in windbreakers and straight-leg jeans.

My anger started to swell again.

Then I realized, you’re looking in the wrong direction. Instead of being mad at the people who aren’t stepping up, it was better for my sanity, and possibly the republic, if I focused my attention on the people who are.

These women were organized. They detailed a number of subgroups: healthcare, voting, freedom of the press, immigration, Social Security. There was training for people interested in marshaling rallies at a nearby church. They were developing systems to protect immigrants in our community by setting up phone lines and training bilingual volunteers.

They made clear that they were not a wing of the Democratic party. “We have to do this ourselves,” one of the speakers said. “We can’t count on anyone else.”

At one point, a thin woman with a long gray ponytail said they were developing a rapid-response team to deal with ICE agents, who were already in the community. She added that she and some friends had tailed an ICE van for an hour and a half before another big black truck came up behind her—eventually, the cops pulled her over and the trucks drove off.

Old ladies, man.

Support Democrats who use their power

Merrick Garland slow-walked the January 6 investigation. Obama and the Clintons smiled through the inauguration. Chuck Schumer negotiates with Republicans by giving them everything they want.

The Democrats dominating the national news leave me filled with dread and despair, but when I read my local newspaper, I see that my state assemblywoman, Sarahana Shrestha, is pushing bills in the New York State legislature that allocate more funding for social programs by raising taxes on millionaires, mandate a public takeover of our area’s much-loathed price-gouging energy supplier, and provide universal healthcare for every person in the state.

These kinds of programs are typically written off as unrealistic. But all three measures are, essentially, wealth transfers—diverting resources to the public and away from millionaires, health-insurance companies, and the for-profit energy supplier whose shareholders enjoy the spoils of its monopoly on the state’s electricity and natural gas.

New York State has the 12^th-largest economy in the world, and the Democrats have a supermajority in the state government. New York State Democrats have more power in Albany than Republicans have in Washington. They could do this.

Shrestha is one of several Democrats pushing their colleagues to use this power. And, sure, lots of people disagree with their policies—that’s fine. What excites me is that people in power are actually fighting for them­. Shrestha, like the Indivisible ladies, reminds me that I really don’t have to “lead myself.” There are people who have been doing the difficult and tedious work of creating a better society for a long time.

We can’t follow them all. We can’t respond to every text or email, certainly not every plea for $5. But we can each take a little time to figure out who our true representatives are.

Liberate yourself from the question "Will it work?"

Are these lost causes? I don’t know. But here’s a lesson the Republicans have taught us in the worst possible way: There is value in fighting for lost causes.

The Republican stance on abortion is extremely unpopular—and for 50 years Republicans have doggedly fought for it. They did not inform their base that what they wanted was unrealistic; they did not say they needed to compromise.

The Democratic base is constantly told to adjust our expectations. As

Rebecca Traister

points out in this fantastic piece, when Nancy Pelosi was speaker of the House, she was lauded as a master politician for her ability to whip the vote and her focus on winning-above-all—her fierce commitment to never putting a bill to the floor that wasn’t guaranteed to pass:

Sure, there was something slick and shiny and easy to cheer there, in her performative sunglass-flicking gestures of competence and control, the suggestion that she was there to fight, to win, and thus to keep you safe.

But she did not keep us safe. We are not safe. And what has the legacy of years of refusing to lose a vote taught the party she led about how to fight for something you are not guaranteed to win? Where is the muscle memory of how to go to the mat for principles, for ideas, for policy or material gain when a clean victory is not actually a possibility?

When I told my friend “I’m done” it was because I had lost faith that anything I did—call a senator (Schumer!) or show up for a rally—would make any material difference. I haven’t regained that faith.

But … maybe I’m wrong! It has happened before!

Ten years ago, anyone predicting our current situation would have been laughed out of the room. We can’t know what the future holds, so we might as well do what we think is right.

Start, and maybe stay, small

I’ve been hesitant to post this because I don’t want to overstate my activism work. Honestly, I haven’t done very much. I’ve gone to some Zoom meetings, made some phone calls, signed some public statements.

But that is partly the point. A lot of people doing a little is … a lot.

The elder women fueling these movements are working tirelessly, and they would love your help if you can give it. But I understand—if you have a job, kids, etc., you might not be prepared to spearhead the Social Security committee. But don’t let the prospect of saying no to the bigger tasks prevent you from taking on the smaller tasks.

As writer Oliver Burkeman points out, “one hour per week spent making the planet a better place, and the rest having fun, is preferable to eight hours per day spent angrily or anxiously thinking about how things ought to be different.”

Here’s some advice from one of my favorite Buddhist authors, Susan Piver. “Take the next step.”

Sign up for the meeting, download the 5 Calls app, pick one issue and call your representative. I really like the national Indivisible’s “What’s the plan?” call, where founders Leah Greenberg and Ezra Levin give updates, answer questions and—yes!—give marching orders. It happens every Thursday at 3pm EST, and they send a recording out afterwards in case you can’t make it. Right now the group is planning an April 5 mass action that appears to be building significant momentum. If you are so inclined!

Will any of this make a difference? Who knows?

But I have found that choosing my leaders has helped me feel more focused and sane—in part because I have outsourced the question of “What should I do?” At the very least, it makes me want to take the next step, and then the one after that. We can’t know where this is all going, but I’m grateful to those who are lighting a path.

How are you maintaining your sanity these days? Who are your leaders? Please share tips, resources, suggestions, thoughts, feelings and rants!