Is It Time for Everyone to Be Doing the Heavy Lifting?

Are people who aren't working full-time for Democracy the same as 'good people doing nothing'? I don't think so. Not yet, anyway.

It is hard to know how to be in the world right now.

On the one hand, we are all painfully aware—in part because everyone has been sent this link—that Hitler dismantled a democracy in 53 days. And that the ensuing horrors were made possible by one thing: good people doing nothing.

On the other hand, we have someone like political strategist James Carville literally telling Democrats to do nothing. Carville’s view is that Trump’s first month has been a disaster for Trump; do nothing, and the whole circus will implode on its own.

I can’t get on board with Carville’s advice. Sure, in the same way that forest fires eventually give way to new growth, this too shall pass. Politically, Trump’s first month has been a trainwreck, and I agree: his epic blunders will create very real opportunities for more competent people down the line. But if politics is about scoring points, leadership is not. Leadership is about defending core principles and looking after people, and on both these fronts, Trump’s trainwreck has produced terrible casualties: decades-old alliances lie broken; critical systems have been breached; thousands of public servants have been haphazardly fired; many essential non-profits are paralyzed; science has been dealt a crippling blow; and the rule of law—if not yet down for the count—is very badly battered.

Doing nothing seems like a terrible idea.

So much so that every night, when I sink onto the sofa to watch a show with my husband, I struggle to relax¹. In my mind’s eye, instead of seeing us as sharing a cozy domestic moment after a long day, I caption the scene as history might: good people doing nothing. Similarly, when I was out of the country last week, traveling for a few days with my family, I felt like I had left the stove on—like I had looked away from something that urgently needed tending. There is just no ease to be had right now.

Funnily enough, the calmest people I come across these days, aside from those who have tuned out entirely, are those closest to the fight—public servants, lawyers, judges, investigative reporters, and activists. These sorts of people do not exude a sense of ease, but they do exhibit a tremendous amount of focus. For the most part, they aren’t second-guessing how to spend their days. They’re digging in.

For those of you who are second-guessing how to spend your days, I get it. I’ve been open about my own shift into public sector work², which is perhaps one reason so many of you have written to ask: What can I do? Where can I plug in? Almost always, this ask ends with an anguished, I can’t do nothing.

Here’s the thing though:

If you are holding down a job, that’s not nothing.
America, with our emphasis on employer-provided health insurance, has always been a brutal place for the unemployed, but at a time when the few safety nets we have are increasingly at risk, achieving financial self-sufficiency *is* part of the fight.

If you are a caretaker—of a child, parent, other relative, or neighbor—that’s not nothing.
The law writer Dahlia Lithwick recently observed that things that once felt so solid—things like our three, co-equal branches of government and the rule of law—seem weirdly abstract now. (Like: what are they really if one ketamine-fueled dude can blow right through them?) Grilled cheese, tomato soup, and clean sheets on the other hand? Show me a world where these things don’t matter.

If you are the custodian of a small business or a non-profit, that’s not nothing.
Small businesses employ 45% of working Americans. Non-profits serve the purposes and people that capitalism, by design, lets fall through its fingers. Keeping these organizations running is important, IMPORTANT work. You don’t have large teams, you don’t have large budgets; the only way to keep the wheels on is to be all in.

And if by chance you are all of the above (and many of you are, dear readers) then please know this: far from doing nothing, you are already holding up the sky. Given that you work/commute 10-12 hours a day, look after other people 4-6 hours a day, and need to sleep at least 6-7 hours a night (#goalz), all you probably have time to do is call your reps. So do that and know for now at least: this *is* enough. Right now, it’s really on them (and the leaders of large corporations—the topic of my next piece) to do more.

Thanks for reading,
Kate

¹One thing that *is* relaxing FWIW: go to YouTube and watch Republican town halls going south. Trust me: hearing your red-state neighbors shout the same things you’re thinking is as soothing as any meditation app you might try.

²Brief update on this: I have not ruled out a run for office, and I’m continuing to have exploratory meetings alongside the volunteer work I’m doing in my community. The funniest exploratory meeting so far was with a friend—a formidable public servant in her own right—who blurted out, “Yes! I think an introvert could totally be a politician.” As she worked to stuff her words back into her mouth, I laughed and said: the only thing better than encouragement is to be seen for who one is…and cheered on nonetheless.

Finally a quick ask for a future piece: I'm looking to connect with anyone willing to share specific steps they've taken in response to the Trump administration's first month, e.g. one man I spoke to has printed out the details of his Social Security benefits—fearing that info might disappear. Another, like me, is looking at a run for office. What are some reactions you’ve had or heard of?

Photo by Greg Rosenke on Unsplash