Four years ago, amid protests and marches that were filling the capital, I said on our local radio station, KAXE, that the way we get the best outcomes during the Trump presidency was to treat him, as the representative of the office of the presidency, with the utmost respect. Though he may not be deserving, the office was. Our country was. Our ideals and institutions are. Great societies always appeal to higher ideals and, in doing so, propel themselves to greatness…
We didn’t do that. None of us, myself included. When he went low, we collectively seemed to go lower. Which of us sit here, today, without an unhealthy level of disdain for at least one segment of our fellow citizens? Let he without sin cast the first stone. It won’t be me.
When the old order begins to fall apart, many of the vociferous men of words, who prayed so long for the day, are in a funk. The first glimpse of the face of anarchy frightens them out of their wits.
Not so the fanatic. Chaos is his element. When the old order begins to crack, he wades in with all his might and recklessness, to blow the whole hated present to high heaven. He glories in the sight of a world coming to a sudden end. To hell with reforms! All that already exists is rubbish, and there is no sense in reforming rubbish.
— Eric Hoffer in “The True Believer: Thoughts on the Nature of Mass Movements”
The crossing of the Rubicon river by Julius Caesar’s army was a declaration of war on the Roman Republic. It was the culmination of the tearing down of many norms, those traditions and ideals that held in check the thin veneer of Roman civilization. Many of those traditions were despotic, and some of those ideals needed reform, but the chaos unleashed ushered in not only a devastating war but imperial rule.
It should be noted that the general population thought Caesar a hero and welcomed his breach of protocol, as perhaps they should have; he and his successors righted many wrongs and used the mighty power Rome had amassed to build a powerful empire, the Pax Romana. Yet, without the checks and constraints of a functioning republic, prudence would give into expediency. Decline set in rather quickly. In a couple centuries, with barbarians at the gates, Rome would decide to simply let them in to pillage and rape. Romans no longer had the means to keep chaos at bay.
The crossing of a Rubicon is also important because it can’t be uncrossed. A norm breached is no longer a norm. We can all go back to a Rubicon, an unforgivable sin committed by our enemy that justifies all we subsequently support. If we are honest with ourselves, we can also all go back to our own Rubicon, the line we said we would never cross that events pushed us over. I don’t know how to undo this.
The only thing that seems certain right now is that no leader is going to emerge from the top to bring us out of this. The incentives there are all wrong, the power we have granted to those that divide too great to overcome by someone whose virtue approximates what is left of our national ideal. That may be a cynical view, but it is also a pragmatic one. I can’t make a counter argument that doesn’t depend on whimsical thinking.
This makes me more convinced than ever that, if we want to fix this, if we want to make things better, we are going to have to do that ourselves, starting in our own homes, blocks, and neighborhoods. The only way to fix what is broken is from the bottom up, starting with a covenant between each other. Here is a start of what that should include:
We will insist on seeing everyone first as a human, not as a political abstraction. We must get to know each other again.
We have to commit to not demonizing each other or allowing others to demonize in pursuit of goals and ideals we believe in. We should never portray, or allow others to potrary, another person or group as inherently wicked or inhuman.
We must work to uphold institutions, to insist on following established rules of procedure and protocol, even when—especially when—working to change those institutions.
We have to push to localize as much of our economy as we can. It is impossible to centrally legislate kindness, honesty, or morality, yet they are all essential to a functioning marketplace. Those values are most present at the local level, where transactions extend beyond the mere abstraction of an exchange of currency to something closer to human.
A final observation. Last week I shared a video on Twitter. It told the story of a Black man who was sucker punched while getting run out of a Trump rally and the guy who punched them. It was a story of reconciliation and redemption. I thought it was important.
I have reached a point on social media where I can share just about anything and get a few dozen likes and retweets. The video of the reconciliation I shared received three likes. Twitter gave it 2,400 impressions, a tiny fraction of what one of my tweets normally receives.
Maybe I hit things at a weird time, or maybe there is some reason why the algorithm opted not to share this one, but we all know this kind of thing isn’t an anomaly. None of us are surprised to learn that these platforms are eager to show us things that stir our anger and reluctant to give us things that soothe our indignation.
If you can leave social media, I think you’d be better off. If you have to be there—I’m one of you—take active steps to curate your feed. Follow people who have a different viewpoint, so long as they are thoughtful and respectful. Mute or block anyone who demonizes others, who treats another person as inhuman, even if they are your friend. Don’t give warning and don’t apologize. Leave them isolated on Digital Hate Island where they can spend their day flaming other haters.
You owe it to yourself and to everyone else in your feed.
Not only does a mass movement depict the present as mean and miserable — it deliberately makes it so. It fashions a pattern of individual existence that is dour, hard, repressive and dull. It decries pleasures and comforts and extols the rigorous life. It views ordinary enjoyment as trivial or even discreditable, and represents the pursuit of personal happiness as immoral.
To enjoy oneself is to have truck with the enemy — the present. The prime objective of the ascetic ideal preached by most movements is to breed contempt for the present. The campaign against the appetites is an effort to pry loose tenacious tentacles holding on to the present. That this cheerless individual life runs its course against a colorful and dramatic background of collective pageantry serves to accentuate its worthlessness.
— Eric Hoffer in “The True Believer: Thoughts on the Nature of Mass Movements”
Those wanting to live a good life in a strong and prosperous place have a lot of work to do. That is our challenge. That is our burden. Let’s all start with ourselves and work outwards from there.