Day 3/77

Good evening, Americans.


An explicitly fascist movement has been democratically elected into power over all branches of the U.S. government. The explicit plan of this movement is to destroy those already embarrassingly shallow “democratic processes” that brought it to power, to strip women of bodily autonomy, to criminalize dissent, to attack and degrade LGBTQ people, to demolish social services, to enrich the obscenely rich, to scapegoat and deport our people. 
In just over 70 days, they will have at their disposal the most sophisticated and extensive policing, surveillance, prison, and military system in the history of the world. They will immediately begin consolidating their power by borrowing tactics from Putin’s Russia, Orbán’s Hungary, and Xi’s China. These are not parties that get voted out of power.
In the coming weeks and months, everything will conspire to encourage you to hide from these facts. You’ll be told the only reasonable response is to wait and see. People will suddenly beg for more nuanced, hair-splitting takes about the meaning of fascism.” You’ll be told that the only way to be loyal to democratic ideals is to respect the results of the election. Its already started. Unless we begin building a movement from this moment of clarity, it will become harder and harder to hold on to the truth of what has happened. We’ll be caught in the current and lose sight of the shore. This is why we are writing.
Some of us are responding to this moment with a kind of numbness, a fatigue from too much world history intruding into our lives. Too many apocalypses on too many fronts. Numbness is how we hold back the process of mourning. With all respect to Joe Hill, from whom we have much to learn, his famous line —  “don’t mourn, organize” —  is hazardous advice. Organizers who don’t mourn, who don’t move through their grief and allow it to wash away their illusions, succumb to compulsive activism. Mourners who don’t organize, who don’t find deep within themselves the need to build new relationships with others, have stopped the lessons of grieving before the course is finished. Grieving is an intimate, personal movement of the soul, or the body, or your neural connections, or however you like to talk about the part of you that is capable of maturity. A social movement is organized grieving. It is a process of collective maturation, of finding each other in our pain and striving to become capable of preventing its cause. Because if such an event were to become normal, it would result in a moral universe we cannot permit.
The past few days have felt like those early weeks of the pandemic, the weeks before the government acknowledged it, as most people were going on like normal, as if nothing big was coming that would require their lives to change. The people that were taking it seriously had this feeling: am I overreacting? Am I paranoid? I must be. The voices of alarm were at the margins, laying out their arguments and their evidence, their stories from overseas. But it felt unreal and inconceivable. You remember.
And maybe you remember, like I do, having to tell someone you love that you were sorry, but it was real. You were sorry, but no, we can’t do that and we have to start doing this. You were sorry, but our lives have to change. We have to do different things and become, for a time, different people. No, I don’t know how long. Maybe forever. We have to become the kind of people who can survive this, yes. But more, we have to become the kind of people who aren’t endangering others. The kind of people who are making the world of life and care go around, and not the kind of people that are making the economy go around. You remember.
Now, again, it’s time for real talk. It is time to look your loved ones, your neighbors, the coworkers you trust in the eye. It is time to listen to what they are saying, and to what they won’t say, the conclusions they are resisting. It is time to look in the mirror at the person you are, and ask the mysteries behind your eyes about the person you are capable of becoming.

Quickly, in the spring and the summer of 2020, many of us became so different. Ironically, for many, the social distancing led to a social intensification — conversations with old friends and relatives, neighbors and people who you knew were going to need extra help. Organizing is no mystery; it involves simple skills that one can practice. Listening, sharing, and making plans together. This is organizing in its essence. There was an explosion of organizing in the early weeks, a transformation of our lives to center around caring for each other and keeping each other safe in a new and confusing circumstance, one where no one knew quite what would happen. This outpouring of social love among a wide portion of the country in the spring of 2020 just might have had something to do with the outrage and capacity for the largest protest movement in U.S. history to emerge as Spring turned to Summer.
Remember? Yeah, you remember.
Creating a movement capable of defeating the plans of a fascist government will require something bigger, something difficult to imagine right now. But there is no other choice. 
Big things grow from small things when the conditions are right. Now is the time to meet your neighbors, to reach out to your organizer friends, to speak honestly with your co-workers or running buddy or whoever. Seek out simple, low-risk, easily accomplished plans that can send a signal to others — anything from a group dinner where people drop the bullshit and speak honestly to posters to protests. Start small and encourage others. Momentum is built by small successes.
Maybe its better to say this: the skills of organizing are no mystery. But what emerges from organizing is like what emerges from the courage to feel our grief and mourn, both in solitude and in company. And that process of emergence is all mystery. It sets us toward the unknown, toward something beyond the rules of how we think things are supposed to work. It is the faith in feeling your way through the darkness until, in a flash, feeling births insight, revelation, new perspective.
Which is exactly what is required now that, it must be repeated, all branches of the U.S. government will soon be under the control of a democratically elected fascist movement, whose stated aim is to crush that democratic process and weaponize the law. 
– more to come – 
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Categorized as General

Day 0/77

Good evening, Americans.
Last night, we witnessed the electoral victory of an explicitly fascist political movement in our country. Not only Donald Trump, but the man who stands behind him, the funders standing behind both of them, the functionaries and strategists behind them all, and the armed paramilitary groups backing them all up. Through the democratic process, they have won full control of every branch of the U.S. Government. They will have free reign to pass whatever legislation pleases them, including dismantling what remains of the democratic process. They will have control over the most sophisticated military, policing, and surveillance system the world has ever seen, which they will use to force their will down our throats. We are heading for the worst-case scenario of climate chaos, the end of what we had called democracy, the brutal force of an empire turned against a perpetual list of internal enemies, the reshaping of life in total service to billionaire overlords. This is the road ahead. We are expected to start marching down it.
Lets be clear about how we are expected to do this: we are expected to make whatever excuses we need to in order to accommodate ourselves to the new circumstances. We are expected to take the art of looking away from injustice to a new level. We are expected to think about our careers. We are expected to tell ourselves we have “a strategy.” We are expected to think of our personal responsibilities to our families, to our own self-care, to our little gardens. We are expected to degrade our own expectations and adapt to a new reality. We are expected, in short, to cover over the truth we are experiencing today with “hope for the future,” “faith” that things will somehow get better. Maybe the Democrats will sweep the midterms? Maybe good people will stop the worst of it? 
Fascist regimes do not get voted out of power. They endure and make their populations complicit in their evil, or they are prevented from functioning by their own people. 
The hardest and most necessary truth we need to grapple with today, in the rawness of our pain, is this: we have to abandon false hope. False hope that somehow things will work out is an excuse for accepting the unacceptable. Real hope, the only hope worth having, cannot refer to the future. It must be a way of acting in the now. It must be a faith that we can act, right now, together, to stop what is coming. This is the only way to open up another possible future.
The need to take immediate action to prevent an unacceptable future is burdened by a paradox that we are already familiar with in regard to climate change: 
    – If we do act based on our educated guesses, and we succeed in avoiding the worst-case scenario, we will never know if the worst-case scenario would have really come to pass; 
    – If we delay action and wait to see if the worst-case scenario arrives, it will be too late to prevent it.
This dilemma has hung over our lives for the last few decades, whether or not it has been explicitly stated. We are now presented with an acute, immediate, political version of it:
All signs point to genuine fascism. If we wait to see if it emerges, it will be too late. If we act now and succeed in avoiding it, we won’t know if it would have emerged. 
The most common response to this paradox is to delay; the only morally defensible response to this paradox is to act, because we cannot allow the chance that the unacceptable may happen.
In our case, the path is clear, however frightening its implications may be. We cannot wait to see what Trump will do on January 21st. We cannot allow fascist power to consolidate itself. We must break the tools our elected masters will use to build their new house. Since it is still November 6, we have 77 days to pull the emergency brake on this train before it reaches the cliff. We have 77 days to open up another future. 
That is plenty of time. When millions of people lose their hope in the future, and throw their fates into the now, we are capable of anything. This is what hope in the now means.

The first step is to gather those who feel the weight of this moment. Call for meetings. Share a realistic understanding of what a fascist movement will mean: full control of the U.S. government by those bent on deporting migrants, ignoring climate science, imposing their idea of ‘traditional’ gender roles, empowering police and far right militia terror, destroying the tattered social safety net, engorging the wealthy, and reshaping the legal terrain to ensure their capacity to do this without meaningful challenge from the defeated political party of the Democrats. Share your understanding of the situation ask each other: are you willing to accept this future? If the answer is yes, bid them farewell and tell them they can come back when they are not willing to accept it. If the answer is no, ask: are you willing to wait and see, even if waiting risks making it inevitable? If the answer is yes, bid them farewell and tell them to come back when they have waited and seen. If the answer is no, turn to practical matters of how to bring the economy and political system to a halt.

 No other political affinity is required. All concerns about who we are or what we believe or where we come from are irrelevant at the moment, except in so far as they provide practical insights into how to stop the gears of the machine. 
Call yourself Americans fighting for the tradition of freedom on this continent or say to hell with America, we’re earthlings or humans or whatever; call yourselves Christians or Jews or Muslims or Pagans or atheists fighting for the will of God or the gods or truth or science; call yourselves Democrats or democrats or communists or anarchists or classical conservatives or libertarians or humanists; call yourselves whatever or don’t speak at all. On a sinking ship, identities only matter to the monsters who are deciding whose lives matter more. We are the people who grab anything we can to make life rafts and hold tight to everyone and anyone in arms reach. Catastrophe makes kin of us all, and it has arrived. 

Don’t waste time on discussing what comes next. The task right now is to say “no” together and to build the power to mean it. Only when we have begun to succeed in that task, which is demanded of us by justice, by love, by the earth, by any God worthy of worship, only once we have found each other beyond hope and in the now, will we be able to perceive new roads ahead.
– more to come –
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Categorized as General