There are two political movements in America right now
An invitation to join the one that's smaller (but that won't be for long)
As I write this, the stock market is tanking and there’s talk of recession. Nobody can predict what will happen, but we know who will be hurt most if those trends persist.
As I write this, they are shuttering the Department of Education. Thousands of public servants who recruited new teachers and helped your kid get special education services or processed your financial aid application were just fired without cause. Your kids’ public school will suffer for this. Your kid will suffer for this.
As I write this, Congress is set to bankrupt the city of Washington D.C. for entirely capricious reasons.
As I write this, the richest man in the world is on a media tour. He’s claiming, to a series of credulous sycophants with microphones, that millions of Social Security and disability recipients are scammers and grifters. He’s arguing that empathy is the downfall of Western civilization. He’s telling a story in advance that if you wind up on the street because a teenage malcontent pressed a button, you were somehow to blame.
As I write this, a legal permanent resident of the United States is in prison in Louisiana, thousands of miles from his eight-month-pregnant wife. There is no proof that he committed a crime, nor that he provided material support for terrorists. He was targeted for his beliefs, for his participation in protests. If not for a judge’s ruling, he’d have been deported. We are told, by an administration with direct ties to white nationalists, that Mahmoud Khalil’s civil rights must be violated to combat antisemitism. This is the price, we are assured, that he must pay for the rest of us to live in Omelas.
As I write this, we are told that he will be the “first of many.”
As I write this, the Democratic Governor of California has launched a podcast. At least in theory, what he’s doing is “outreach,” but if that’s the case, it begs the question, “towards what?” I listened to the first two episodes in full. Charlie Kirk and Michael Savage. What follows is my summary of what it sounds like when a Democrat who would very much like to be the next President turns on a microphone and, um, reaches across the aisle. It is exaggerated for effect, though I wish there was nothing to exaggerate in the first place:
[Jaunty theme music plays]
Newsom: “The Democratic Party is in the toilet right now. Voters don’t trust us. What advice do you [somebody who actively hates the Democratic Party and owes your fortune to bad faith attacks on liberalism] have for us?”
Charlie Kirk and/or Michael Savage: First off, please compliment me more.
Newsom: You are very brilliant and I admire what you are doing.
Kirk or Savage: Thank you. My advice is that you should hate trans kids, immigrants and homeless people even more than you already do. Can you do that?
Newsom: Absolutely. I want nothing more than to attack trans people. As a father, I find it deeply troubling that they are playing sports now. As for immigrants, I’ll have you know— nobody loves deporting them more than me. I love working with ICE and also had a wonderful ninety minute meeting with Donald Trump. Finally, screw homeless people. When I was mayor of San Francisco, they burned me in effigy for how much I hated them.
[Jaunty theme music plays]
As I write this, none of us are surprised. We knew that the second Trump administration would feature a constant barrage of malevolent test balloons. We knew that a phalanx of Democratic consultants would drone on about the need to “meet voters where they are” on “80/20 issues.” We knew that we would be told that the ship would sink if we didn’t throw a few of our neighbors overboard.
But even knowing all this, the Newsom podcasts gutted me. I’m not bothered that he’s talking to conservatives. I’m an organizer. I’m all about outreach. The idea that you should be willing to talk anybody about what you believe and why you believe it is embedded deep in my soul. But the whole reason you have conversations like that is so that you stand up for those who aren’t in the room. A union organizer doesn’t finally get an audience with the boss so that they can say “you know who sucks? All those workers.”
I’m not surprised that Newsom— a craven political opportunist of the highest order— cares more for his own Q score than other people’s basic rights. The glee in his voice as he accepted Kirk and Savage’s framing took me aback, though. You’ve likely heard about the anti-trans nonsense, where Kirk baited him into repeating conservative talking points verbatim. That moment wasn’t an anomaly. You may have missed the part in the second episode where Savage proposes tossing homeless people into concentration camps against their will. In response, the Governor of California chuckles and assures him that they are basically in agreement on this matter.
As I write this, the choice before us has never been clearer.
There are two political movements in this country. The first encompasses the entirety of the Republican Party and a heartbreakingly large number of Democrats and Independents. It is whiter than not, richer than not, more male than not, and straighter than not, but has sprawled to include self-described pragmatists of all stripes. Its boundaries are permeable, depending on the issue. Some of its adherents are dyed in the wool conservatives for whom no sacrifice (borne by others) is too high of a cost if a lower marginal rate is on offer. Others swear that they are liberals or leftists at heart— true believers in gay marriage, abortion rights and child tax credits— they’re just fed up by all this wokeness, you see. Have you considered that it’s gone too far? Theirs is an ecumenical movement of polling data and focus groups, of questions they’re just asking and hushed assurances that “personally, I have no problem with _______ , but I’m just concerned that [their humanity] isn’t a winning issue right now.”
There are no doubt many who would quibble with calling it a movement, given its ideological diversity. How can a movement include both MAGA as well as some who claim to oppose it vehemently? But political movements, especially ones whose members are concerned with “what’s polling well,” are always big tents. Movements don’t require uniformity, just a common bond. And in this case, the common bond is a single thesis statement.
It’s ok to throw somebody under the bus.
What’s most insidious about this movement is that it presents itself as the only reasonable alternative. Do you want to live your life in the political wilderness? Do you want to alienate the suburban soccer moms and the working class Latino men and all the voters who saw that ad about how Kamala was for they/them and Trump was for you and thought, apparently “well, I’m definitely not they/them so he must be speaking to me?” Join us, they say, or else.
Just as a flashlight is more powerful in the darkness than the mid-day sun, though, so too is there a gift in this manufactured consensus. At its core, the “it’s ok to throw somebody under the bus” movement is united by a series of questions. It asks, in rapid succession, “What about them? And them? And them? Are they all expendable?” Many of its adherents believe in a Neverland where the questions will stop abruptly, though they never do. We’ve all heard the Niemöller quote. We know the message isn’t “first they came for the ______ but thank goodness they stopped after that, which is why I’m so proud to have recently launched a podcast showcasing my anti-woke bonafides.”
My God, you all. Trump even said it. “The first of many.”
But back to that series of questions. Here’s some blessed news in the midst of all this awfulness.
You’re always allowed to say no. You don’t actually have to throw anybody under the bus. You can in fact say that the laid-off auto worker deserves sympathy, but so does the single mom on welfare and the trans teenager who loves volleyball and the Venezuelan family at the border.
Now, Im a steadfast political optimist. I believe that, like so many before us, we can and will find our way to the other side of this crisis. But my confidence is not a denial of current reality. These are profoundly difficult times. We who believe in our shared humanity have been told, in so many ways, that we are dinosaurs out of step with the zeitgeist. But still, our tiny movement of weary hearts has something going for us that is more powerful than the force of a thousand scoldy op-eds and think tank white papers.
Unlike our opponents, we don’t believe that love and care is finite.
We don’t believe that trans people are only allowed to exist when they poll well. We don’t believe that there’s a binary choice between supporting broke American citizens and immigrants. We don’t believe that feminism is an attack on men, or that anti-racism is an attack on white people. We don’t believe that justice and peace for Palestine is mutually exclusive with protecting Jewish communities from antisemitism. We don’t believe in either implicit or explicit eugenics for our disabled neighbors. We don’t believe that only some of us deserve healthcare or childcare or a decent education or healthy air or communities free from violence. We merely believe that we all deserve a country that loves us for once. We believe that there is enough to go around, but only if we choose it.
We recognize, of course, that something has to give if all of us will be free, but that has much less to do with punishment than redistribution. There are a handful among us who have far more than they could spend in a million lifetimes. There are even more who’ve built fortresses when we should be welcoming others onto our front porches. All of us still have much to learn about how to live together. We’re not saying that the world of our dreams won’t require changes or challenges.
What we are offering, however, is a simple and honest reassurance. We may be in the minority, but if you join our movement, the answer will always be the same.
When you’re in need, we’ll share our bounty.
When you’re under attack, we will stand by your side.
When they try to shove you in the gutter, we’ll shout from the rooftops that we couldn’t imagine this world without you.
I am told that the movement of throwing people under the bus is popular right now. It will only grow smaller, though, because it eats its own. It doesn’t matter how loud you clap for the “first of many.” By the time they get to the millionth of many, there are definitionally fewer hands clapping.
As for the growing movement that doesn’t throw anybody under the bus, the task ahead of us is both simple and profound.
Keep our hands outstretched and our doors open. Continue to host the best parties. Assure everybody that, whenever they’re ready, they’re welcome in the fold. We will care for each other. In fact, that’s all we will do. We will love and shout and raise a fuss and get arrested together and when we’re asked by a new voice, “is there room for me at the table as well?” we will be prepared with the same answer.
Yes.
Always.
You are welcome to join us.
As long as you’re willing to share.
End notes:
I just finished a marathon of Barnraisers Project courses (on building community). I’m awfully tired, but they were an absolute blast. Thanks to all of you who participated. I’ll be offering more soon, because there was a whole bunch of folks who couldn’t make the last ones. If you’re on the interest list, you’ll know as soon as I open them up.
The courses are always free, as is the long-term coaching I provide for anybody who's been through them (and wants them). As are these newsletters, come to think of it. How can I do that? Because of all those of you who’ve raised your hand to become paid subscribers. If you’re on the fence there, here’s a link that (temporarily- just through Friday the 14th) will give you a little discount (this is an annual thing I do around this time). Thanks for considering (and thanks for sharing as well— that helps a lot too).
Back to the essay, I’m learning more heavily into a moral rather than pragmatic argument above, but for those more interested in the latter, this feels relevant.
Also: if you’re doubting whether current methods of resistance are having an impact, never forget that, in response to the protests that so many of you have participated in at Tesla dealerships across the country, this week the President of the United States held an event on the White House lawn where he pretended to buy a car from his largest donor/current partner in crime in order to juice the sales. You all, it’s working! Keep it up!
Related: Are you subscribed to Waging Nonviolence? Truly one of my daily go-tos, for so many reasons.
In other “this seems to be working” news: Bernie Sanders going across the country with an explicit “we won’t throw anybody under the bus” message is already spooking GOP Congressman in the districts he’s visited.
In case you’re wondering “should I listen to Gavin Newsom’s podcast?” his next guest is Steve Bannon. Maybe listen to this song instead? It’s about youth and community and creating something together and it made me smile (both nostalgically and dreamily). “Punk Rock in Basements” by Laura Jane Grace. I found it to be quite lovely and life affirming and maybe it’ll make you smile as well. And also: I finally updated the song of the week playlist (on Apple Music and Spotify).
Finally, a reminder. Opposition IS growing, but if you’re somebody who pays a lot of attention to the news, it’s important to remember that many of your neighbors likely aren’t raising a fuss because they still don’t know the extent of everything that’s going on. Our job right now continues to be to both care for one another while also ringing alarm bells. That kind of outreach (not the Gavin Newsom variety) truly matters.
"You’re always allowed to say no. You don’t actually have to throw anybody under the bus." The biggest lie that politicians have perpetrated on the public is to convince them they don't have agency. They live in fear that, we the many, will eventually realize it isn't true. No one knows where the tipping point is, but the humanity-first movement is percolating, I can feel it. Keep the faith.
I don't know if this really fits here or not, but this popped up in my social-media memories today from four years ago:
We are so used to gaslighting and barely getting crumbs that when they say, "We are cutting child poverty in half," we say, "Yay!" Not, "Uh, wait. What about the other half?" And they say, "Can they find some bootstraps to eat?"