Yes, I don't disagree with what you describe. I've been around awhile, and I've had too many lessons in feeling hopeless. The worst. So, I don't allow myself to be there for long. Specifically, with respect to Trump, I can now recognize when I find myself searching for The News Story That Tells Me That He Is Going Down. That happened for me about 2 weeks ago, and I know that I have to stay away from the news for a time, usually half a day, and tone it down for a few days. Other than that, time with friends, a walk, reading, a gratitude practice, calling my reps, therapy when I need it, etc. I know the stories of the Civil Rights Era and WWll. Both hugely inspiring. Someone gave me a book of Churchill's speeches, and during the war they were all about never giving up. The PBS series on the Civil Rights Era was called "Eyes on the Prize." I'm looking now at some of the Soviet dissidents.
I firmly believe that taking care of ourselves is the first priority, because we do not know how long this will take. I am so grateful for The Bulwark and for the comment sections.
This is how movements become machines. Not because they win over the rational, but because they reroute rationality. They flip the moral compass and then punish anyone who still feels it pulling north. The cruelty becomes virtue. The collapse becomes prophecy. The pain is not only justified—it’s required.
You’re right that the clownery and chaos aren’t bugs. They’re bonding agents. They create a shared trauma, a kind of psychological sunk cost that makes turning back feel like self-annihilation. If you admit it’s all been a lie, you don’t just lose your politics. You lose your place in the tribe, your sense of self. So instead, they double down. Again and again. Because the alternative is looking in the mirror and seeing the rubble.
And yes, the media machine exists to make sure that mirror never shows a clear reflection. It doesn't inform, it confirms. It doesn't expose, it shelters. When a narrative breaks, it doesn’t get corrected, it gets replaced.
You’re describing the shape of the thing we now live inside.
If there’s any hope, and I mean any, it’s in naming this clearly. Without euphemism. Without false comfort. Just calling it what it is, so those who haven’t signed their souls away might still have a chance to choose something different.
That’s not optimism. That’s the last act of realism.
And I’m right there with you, hoping, somehow, that we’re wrong.
Yes, I don't disagree with what you describe. I've been around awhile, and I've had too many lessons in feeling hopeless. The worst. So, I don't allow myself to be there for long. Specifically, with respect to Trump, I can now recognize when I find myself searching for The News Story That Tells Me That He Is Going Down. That happened for me about 2 weeks ago, and I know that I have to stay away from the news for a time, usually half a day, and tone it down for a few days. Other than that, time with friends, a walk, reading, a gratitude practice, calling my reps, therapy when I need it, etc. I know the stories of the Civil Rights Era and WWll. Both hugely inspiring. Someone gave me a book of Churchill's speeches, and during the war they were all about never giving up. The PBS series on the Civil Rights Era was called "Eyes on the Prize." I'm looking now at some of the Soviet dissidents.
I firmly believe that taking care of ourselves is the first priority, because we do not know how long this will take. I am so grateful for The Bulwark and for the comment sections.
Thanks, Anonymous.
Yes. Exactly.
This is how movements become machines. Not because they win over the rational, but because they reroute rationality. They flip the moral compass and then punish anyone who still feels it pulling north. The cruelty becomes virtue. The collapse becomes prophecy. The pain is not only justified—it’s required.
You’re right that the clownery and chaos aren’t bugs. They’re bonding agents. They create a shared trauma, a kind of psychological sunk cost that makes turning back feel like self-annihilation. If you admit it’s all been a lie, you don’t just lose your politics. You lose your place in the tribe, your sense of self. So instead, they double down. Again and again. Because the alternative is looking in the mirror and seeing the rubble.
And yes, the media machine exists to make sure that mirror never shows a clear reflection. It doesn't inform, it confirms. It doesn't expose, it shelters. When a narrative breaks, it doesn’t get corrected, it gets replaced.
You’re describing the shape of the thing we now live inside.
If there’s any hope, and I mean any, it’s in naming this clearly. Without euphemism. Without false comfort. Just calling it what it is, so those who haven’t signed their souls away might still have a chance to choose something different.
That’s not optimism. That’s the last act of realism.
And I’m right there with you, hoping, somehow, that we’re wrong.