By Jane Gordon Julien
February 18, 2025
So much is going on in our country right now, a complete upending of the social order, that I think this is how it must have felt at the first stirrings of the French Revolution, when anarchy reigned and so many lost their heads. Metaphorically and literally.
Or the beginnings of Nazi Germany, when books were being burned, those who opposed the regime were strung up on the streets with wire, and whole families were gassed to death.
That could never happen here, you say. Well, that’s what the Jews in Germany said. “We live in a civilized society,” they said.
And that’s what we are saying now.
I know this sounds dire. It feels dire. Do we burn our house down because we don’t like our washing machine?
I realize that red tape and opposition, valid or not, slow the workings of government to a snail’s pace. I realize that when money is spent, some of it goes to causes we don’t fully understand. I realize that a one-cent coin takes 3.7 cents to make, and a nickel costs 13.8 cents.
There must be a better way.
But is this it? Because now, the fox is guarding the henhouse.
If we disregard the processes we’ve created, if we throw away all checks and balances, we are left with an authoritarian government. And we have no idea what that looks like here in our beloved United States.
Although we know what it looks like elsewhere.
For those who don’t pay attention to politics, perhaps it will mean little except that prices rise and stocks fluctuate wildly. A big perhaps.
For those who do pay attention to politics, it means our Constitution is being discarded, our rights and the rights of those we love are in jeopardy, and whatever protections we erected are crumbling.
Take, for example, The Consumer Financial Protection Bureau. Our new administration is trying to shut it down. It came into being after the 2008 government bank bailout, brought to us courtesy of Wall Street greed and toxic mortgage securities, amounted to $700 billion. If the Consumer Protection Bureau had existed before the bank bailout, our country’s accounts would have held onto that $700 billion.
The Consumer Financial Protection Bureau has discovered more than $21 billion in frauds and scams and returned that money to its rightful owners. The chair of the Federal Reserve has said that without the Bureau, no government agency exists that can compel financial companies to abide by consumer protection laws.
I suspect Wall Street will gallop right into that loophole.
An oligarchy run by billionaires that swears it will cut government waste but won’t look at its own tax incentives and billion-dollar breaks can hardly be effective in trimming fat.
And that’s just one agency being decimated. Cuts to medical research are affecting hospitals and universities. Republicans are considering Medicaid cuts, because if you don’t want to go after the billionaires, go after the poor. Could Social Security and Medicare be next?
Do we fully understand the consequences of these government actions? I don’t believe even the administration understands – or cares to understand – the consequences of them.
Take the demolition of USAID. Read this, and see what you think. It’s from the Catholic
Transcript, an excellent newspaper that speaks to folks on the front lines.
To try to figure out what to do, I wrote to my minister, the Rev. Richard Allen, of Glastonbury, Conn., the other day, because I’m exhausted and upset and unsure of next steps to take in the altered state of a country we are living in. He is retired now, but like Jesus after the crucifixion, everyone continues to look to him as if he were still there in the pulpit sharing stories and hope.
Here’s what he said:
Jane, I am really hearing you! Like you, I am full of anger.
I can tell you a few things I’ve been doing and I’ll also tell you a quick story.
First, I have let our two senators know they have my full support in resisting the administration’s unlawful activities.
I’ve been looking for ways to channel my anger energy into constructive resistance efforts. I just read The White Rose, a powerful story of a resistance group in Nazi Germany in World War II. These people knew what they were willing to die for! They inspire me.
I have been looking for ways to be a presence of mercy everywhere I go. Mercy is what the world needs now and I don’t see any of it in the administration. I doubt Trump has ever heard the word.
Next Sunday, I am the guest preacher in Redding Congregational Church (in Connecticut). I am preaching on Mercy.
I am refusing to travel to or through any red states. I don’t want my money to support those conservative state governments. I see this as a tiny act of resistance that may not make a difference to red state politicians, but it makes a difference in my gut.
I am becoming even more generous than I have been. One of my friends in Malawi is in the Malawi army. Her dad has worked for US-AID for many years. He just got laid off due to the administration’s mandate. So now he can’t feed his family. And, he can’t pay his son’s school fees. So, I will send money to help this family. This won’t save the world, but I have to do what I can, one kindness at a time.
Back to the anger issue: I always associate anger with loss. Where there is anger, there is grief. So, I’ve been carrying a hanky, letting tears come. I did a wedding on Friday in a private home. As the groom began to speak his vows, he started to weep. I pulled out my hanky for him. On the way home, I knew it is I who needs to weep because my losses run deep. I feel I’ve lost my country.
Last night, I went to YouTube and played all the Pete Seeger songs I could find, then Bob Dylan, then Aretha Franklin. I found some healing there, in the music. I went to bed feeling a little more hopeful.
Lastly, I’ve been turning to the poetry of my dear friend, Marilyn Nelson. I’m sure you know her work. She’s not afraid of the darkness, and she sees there the light is breaking in.
I am really glad you wrote to me. I am here for you.
— Dick
From Jane:
Yesterday, Presidents’ Day, thousands of marchers protested on the streets in New York City, Washington, D.C., Boston, Nantucket, Mass., Roanoke, Va., Sacramento, Calif., and more. Signs read “Not My President’s Day” and “No Kings Day.” The group that organized the movement, the 50501 Movement, is a grassroots effort formed to resist the desecration of our government.
My friend and writing colleague (and creative cook and food writer) Beth Hillson helps to run a group called Take Action CT, or TACT, that is committed to fair elections and compassionate governing. If you live in Connecticut and want to get on the newsletter list, send Beth an email. She’s at bjhillson@gmail.com. It’s another way to get involved.
I’ve also received a number of texts and emails from folks telling me to NOT shop anywhere, unless it’s an emergency, on February 28. Mark it on your calendar. Tuck your wallet away, stay off Amazon, and see what sort of impact such a boycott has on corporations that are contributing to this administration.
For all of you creatives out there who are struggling with anxiety right now, my dear friend Diana Dawson, an assistant professor at the University of Texas, is part of a creativity group, and this week’s reading, about anxiety vs. creativity, is attached below. Take a read. I hope it helps.
And here is a last thought, as the Rev. Allen says, on the light breaking in. From Marilyn Nelson, a celebrated African-American poet, former poet laureate of Connecticut, and recipient of abundant accolades.
Minor Miracle
BY MARILYN NELSON
Which reminds me of another knock-on-wood
memory. I was cycling with a male friend,
through a small midwestern town. We came to a 4-way
stop and stopped, chatting. As we started again,
a rusty old pick-up truck, ignoring the stop sign,
hurricaned past scant inches from our front wheels.
My partner called, “Hey, that was a 4-way stop!”
The truck driver, stringy blond hair a long fringe
under his brand-name beer cap, looked back and yelled,
“You fucking niggers!”
And sped off.
My friend and I looked at each other and shook our heads.
We remounted our bikes and headed out of town.
We were pedaling through a clear blue afternoon
between two fields of almost-ripened wheat
bordered by cornflowers and Queen Anne’s lace
when we heard an unmuffled motor, a honk-honking.
We stopped, closed ranks, made fists.
It was the same truck. It pulled over.
A tall, very much in shape young white guy slid out:
greasy jeans, homemade finger tattoos, probably
a Marine Corps boot-camp footlockerful
of martial arts techniques.
“What did you say back there!” he shouted.
My friend said, “I said it was a 4-way stop.
You went through it.”
“And what did I say?” the white guy asked.
“You said: ‘You fucking niggers.’”
The afternoon froze.
“Well,” said the white guy,
shoving his hands into his pockets
and pushing dirt around with the pointed toe of his boot,
“I just want to say I’m sorry.”
He climbed back into his truck
and drove away.
Copyright Credit: Marilyn Nelson, “Minor Miracle” from The Fields of Praise: New and Selected Poems. Copyright 1994, 1995, 1996, 1997 by Marilyn Nelson. Reprinted with the permission of Louisiana State University Press. Source: The Fields of Praise: New and Selected Poems (Louisiana State University Press, 1997)