In The Days That Followed

I walked with two good friends on the beach. The sea was raucous, but the tide was falling. The wind was gusting, flocks of seabirds clamored, and at one point a train clattered by, that iconic cavalcade of sound and color, an elongated hyphen, and we turned and watched it pass, then continued on our way.

In the far distance, a mysterious light blazed brightly from a bluff. I couldn’t tell what it was, but it shone like a beacon, glinting gold, its shape more distinctive as we walked toward it, and eventually we realized it was simply sunlight striking the window of a house at exactly the right angle, transforming it into a gleaming rectangle of light, the intersection of human fabrication and cosmic energy. 

Yesterday I listened to an excerpt of a post-election conversation between Jon Stewart and Heather Cox Richardson. I loved her closing words: “Human decency matters,” she said. “A hero keeps trying to do the right thing even when you know the walls are closing in.” And maybe the walls are closing in, but that does not change the fundamentals.

In the days since the debacle, the horror we saw clearly has been confirmed: the electorate has voted in a regime of vindictiveness and craven power. Appointees to important positions seem to have been perversely chosen for the role in which each is most bizarrely unsuited––a strangely nihilistic approach to governance––and the goal seems to be to rip everything apart and put a cabal of despots in control. I think of it as a giant “F—-k you” to the people and all we hold dear. (America, how COULD you?!)

I’m not alone in this assessment. Historian Timothy Snyder, an expert on tyranny and averting authoritarianism, offers this sobering perspective: “Imagine that you are a foreign leader who wishes to destroy the United States. How could you do so? The easiest way would be to get Americans to do the work themselves, to somehow induce Americans to undo their own health, law, administration, defense, and intelligence.” He points out that Trump’s proposed appointments are perfect instruments for this undoing, very much like a decapitation strike, “destroying the American government from the top, leaving the body politic to rot, and the rest of us to suffer.”

It’s nauseating and scary, but I believe that it will backfire. We just don’t know how long it will take to unravel, and what irrevocable damage will have been done. In the meantime, let us transform the gnawing of despair into love and commitment. Succumbing to a sense of doom and resignation is what Snyder would term “anticipatory obedience”, which is exactly what they want. 

Snyder writes: “Most of the power of authoritarianism is freely given. In times like these, individuals think ahead about what a more repressive government will want, and then offer themselves without being asked. A citizen who adapts in this way is teaching power what it can do.”

So what can we do? I spoke to a trusted advisor, otherwise known as my husband, who happens to have a deep understanding of policy, politics, and strategic thinking. “It’s a long game,” he tells me. “Don’t spin out of control, don’t panic, conserve your energy to channel it intelligently. Stay strong, and watch what unfolds. There will be tangible roles and opportunities to act. Be ready for these.”

I hold fast to my belief that friendship and community will sustain us. I have already derived so much wisdom and encouragement from these sources. We must tend to one another, take the time to notice the beauty of our fragile earth, and be grateful for the wonders that continue. These things will replenish us, and we will stand up for what is right, and we’ll prevail. Our lives are imbued with meaning. I hereby resolve to love more fiercely than ever before, to live with a renewed intensity, to respond by being stronger, kinder, and smarter than I was.

We can do this.  

I have been getting messages from friends near and far, and I am humbled and inspired by the many manifestations of human decency that were happening all along but are now blooming with renewed commitment. It’s like that sun-struck window on the bluff: when earnest human effort converges with the forces of nature, light beams like a beacon through darkness.  I’m remembering, too a line by one of my favorite authors, Willa Cather: “Where there is great love there are always miracles.”

Last night the moon rose above the hills like a huge white platter, perfectly round. The world seemed to exhale in a long sigh, and there was in that moment a genuine sense of peace.