Dear Lori — I’m with you. Here’s how I read it, in my language.
1) On giving and receiving:
Small acts of mutual aid function like a diagnostic on the social fabric. They show where trust still circulates and where fear has colonized our habits. Either way, the signal matters.
2) On authoritarian messaging:
When a leader publicly marks nearly half the country as an enemy, it’s not bluster; it’s an operating instruction. The goal isn’t to mute every voice—it’s to persuade enough people that the other voices don’t count. That is how cruelty gets a permission structure.
3) On “vision” versus “values”:
Policy wish‑lists can’t bridge a trust deficit. Blueprints become team flags when there’s no common moral ground. If we want to talk to one another rather than pass one another, we have to stand on shared commitments first, not competing end‑states.
4) On the civic commitments that still hold:
Freedom from arbitrary rule: Liberty isn’t the strong taking what they can; it’s a boundary around power so ordinary people can live unafraid.
Equal worth: No one is born to command or to serve. We’ve failed this standard often, but the standard remains.
Rights that pre‑exist the state: Government doesn’t manufacture human dignity; it’s hired to protect it.
Justice as constraint: Laws should bind power, not launder it. Fairness is supposed to shield the vulnerable, not just stabilize the comfortable.
Self‑rule: Authority is legitimate only with the people’s consent, renewed through participation and accountability.
Limits and oversight: Because humans chase self‑interest, power must be divided and answerable. The law runs uphill as well as down.
Room for difference: A free society expects plural ways of believing and living and refuses to make sameness the price of belonging.
5) On care as the day‑to‑day embodiment of those commitments:
Care isn’t sentiment; it’s load‑bearing infrastructure.
Extending care gives others the margin to act—that’s liberty in practice.
Receiving care acknowledges equal dignity—no one stands above or below.
Protecting one another recognizes rights that weren’t granted by us and can’t be revoked by us.
Showing up for someone who’s carrying too much is justice enacted at a human scale.
Choosing responsibility for neighbors keeps self‑government honest between elections.
Networks of mutual aid blunt domination by keeping the community alive where authority is weakest.
Caring across disagreement is how pluralism stops being a slogan and becomes livable.
6) On hope with ballast:
Hope that depends on headlines is brittle. Hope anchored in shared commitments can take a hit and hold shape. It’s not optimism about outcomes; it’s discipline about what we refuse to abandon.
7) On history’s receipts:
When people locked onto those commitments and acted together, divide‑and‑rule strategies cracked: Black Americans organized, marched, and voted their way toward civil rights; Polish workers forced space for free association that spread across Eastern Europe; South Africans dismantled a system engineered to separate and devalue. None of that was guaranteed, but value‑driven solidarity outlasted intimidation.
8) On what resists fragmentation now:
Lead with shared commitments before arguing blueprints.
Treat trust as a finite resource—spend it carefully, earn it locally.
Build “small‑world” links across lines of difference: one conversation, one favor, one joint task at a time.
Reward behaviors that humanize opponents; refuse tactics that dehumanize yours.
Keep institutions honest by showing up (meetings, courts, press, ballots) while sustaining parallel networks of care that no strongman can easily co‑opt.
9) My bottom line:
Division is a strategy. The counter‑strategy is values put into motion—consistently, locally, and together. I agree with you: the ground that holds us isn’t a single victorious vision; it’s the practice of dignity, fairness, and mutual obligation, repeated until it becomes habit again.
We are witnessing how those binding threads can be severed. Although insufficient, we rightly see that there was advancement in civil rights, yet the power arrayed in opposition is a violent titan empire that predates Trump. Is it doubtful that power can be turned inward?
The United States of America has been at war for every minute of its’ existence. The United States of America retains a military larger than the combined forces of the next five largest militarized nations on the planet, and desires more. The United States of America holds in thrall nearly five hundred smaller nations, making it by number the largest empire ever known. That power has been turned over to the ethic of hedonism practiced as Supercapitalism (Reich) in which all human organisms other than the oligarchs are ciphers.
The path here written is correct. It has had such names as passive or nonviolent resistance, civil disobedience and so on. A recent article lists “45 Acts of Noncompliance for Ordinary People”:
In my youth we had the American Friends Service Committee (AFSC) and the Central Committee for Conscientious Objectors (CCCO) to help us resist. This was before the Internet. Organizing now can be holistic, and yet still rationality counsels peaceful resistance. The individual voice of reason like Loris, and others such as <robinliberte@substack.com> are welcome to hear, because the price of misstep is extreme.
The longer we live through this period of time, the deeper we go into the existential questions of what we are actually doing "here." (On this earth, specifically in this country—though with the knowledge that the world, too, is shifting.)
Liberty, freedom, rights were, until just recently, abstract nouns.
It is from pieces like this that we can bring a concreteness to those words. And let's be honest: for many of us, we have NEVER thought about such things before. We were on autopilot (myself very much included) for our entire lives.
I still have friends who think that re-posting memes is an act of resistance. That's like throwing flower petals into the Grand Canyon.
Re-grouping around values will take some time. That's a part of our brains that have gotten very little exercise. And—someone has to bring this up—this is going to hurt. When those nouns move from abstract to concrete, there will be pain.
At the very least, there will be disruption to our comfort zones. Once values coalesce, the gears on the machine are next. This can be done peacefully (as in Lori's examples); but it cannot be done with memes and signs.
Yes John, this is indeed ‘going to hurt’. We — and by we, I mean anyone on the planet who cares about the future of democracy — are going to have to be willing to sacrifice both comfort and convenience. I wonder how many of us are ready for that.
I’ve started writing a post on it, but it’s taking a while to take shape. Possibly because other points are coalescing much faster, so it’s been nudged aside for the moment. We’ll come back to this conversation, I’m sure.
This is powerful, Lori,thank you for offering it. What strikes me most is how you’ve traced care back to the deepest values, showing that it isn’t just kindness in passing but a way of keeping liberty, equality, and justice alive in the ordinary rhythms of our lives. It’s easy to forget that authoritarianism isn’t defeated only in grand gestures or sweeping visions, but in the quiet practice of refusing to let our neighbors become enemies.
I hear in your words both realism and hope,the clear-eyed recognition of how contempt is weaponized, and the insistence that anchored hope remains possible when we live out our values in small, steady acts. It makes me think that perhaps the question isn’t whether care is enough to turn the tide, but whether anything else could possibly hold without it.
That reminder feels vital right now. Thank you for naming it.
Dear Lori — I’m with you. Here’s how I read it, in my language.
1) On giving and receiving:
Small acts of mutual aid function like a diagnostic on the social fabric. They show where trust still circulates and where fear has colonized our habits. Either way, the signal matters.
2) On authoritarian messaging:
When a leader publicly marks nearly half the country as an enemy, it’s not bluster; it’s an operating instruction. The goal isn’t to mute every voice—it’s to persuade enough people that the other voices don’t count. That is how cruelty gets a permission structure.
3) On “vision” versus “values”:
Policy wish‑lists can’t bridge a trust deficit. Blueprints become team flags when there’s no common moral ground. If we want to talk to one another rather than pass one another, we have to stand on shared commitments first, not competing end‑states.
4) On the civic commitments that still hold:
Freedom from arbitrary rule: Liberty isn’t the strong taking what they can; it’s a boundary around power so ordinary people can live unafraid.
Equal worth: No one is born to command or to serve. We’ve failed this standard often, but the standard remains.
Rights that pre‑exist the state: Government doesn’t manufacture human dignity; it’s hired to protect it.
Justice as constraint: Laws should bind power, not launder it. Fairness is supposed to shield the vulnerable, not just stabilize the comfortable.
Self‑rule: Authority is legitimate only with the people’s consent, renewed through participation and accountability.
Limits and oversight: Because humans chase self‑interest, power must be divided and answerable. The law runs uphill as well as down.
Room for difference: A free society expects plural ways of believing and living and refuses to make sameness the price of belonging.
5) On care as the day‑to‑day embodiment of those commitments:
Care isn’t sentiment; it’s load‑bearing infrastructure.
Extending care gives others the margin to act—that’s liberty in practice.
Receiving care acknowledges equal dignity—no one stands above or below.
Protecting one another recognizes rights that weren’t granted by us and can’t be revoked by us.
Showing up for someone who’s carrying too much is justice enacted at a human scale.
Choosing responsibility for neighbors keeps self‑government honest between elections.
Networks of mutual aid blunt domination by keeping the community alive where authority is weakest.
Caring across disagreement is how pluralism stops being a slogan and becomes livable.
6) On hope with ballast:
Hope that depends on headlines is brittle. Hope anchored in shared commitments can take a hit and hold shape. It’s not optimism about outcomes; it’s discipline about what we refuse to abandon.
7) On history’s receipts:
When people locked onto those commitments and acted together, divide‑and‑rule strategies cracked: Black Americans organized, marched, and voted their way toward civil rights; Polish workers forced space for free association that spread across Eastern Europe; South Africans dismantled a system engineered to separate and devalue. None of that was guaranteed, but value‑driven solidarity outlasted intimidation.
8) On what resists fragmentation now:
Lead with shared commitments before arguing blueprints.
Treat trust as a finite resource—spend it carefully, earn it locally.
Build “small‑world” links across lines of difference: one conversation, one favor, one joint task at a time.
Reward behaviors that humanize opponents; refuse tactics that dehumanize yours.
Keep institutions honest by showing up (meetings, courts, press, ballots) while sustaining parallel networks of care that no strongman can easily co‑opt.
9) My bottom line:
Division is a strategy. The counter‑strategy is values put into motion—consistently, locally, and together. I agree with you: the ground that holds us isn’t a single victorious vision; it’s the practice of dignity, fairness, and mutual obligation, repeated until it becomes habit again.
— Ron
Agree 👏
I love this abridged version Ron! Thank you so much for sharing it, and your solidarity.
Warmly
— Lori
Well-conceived and written, as always.
We are witnessing how those binding threads can be severed. Although insufficient, we rightly see that there was advancement in civil rights, yet the power arrayed in opposition is a violent titan empire that predates Trump. Is it doubtful that power can be turned inward?
The United States of America has been at war for every minute of its’ existence. The United States of America retains a military larger than the combined forces of the next five largest militarized nations on the planet, and desires more. The United States of America holds in thrall nearly five hundred smaller nations, making it by number the largest empire ever known. That power has been turned over to the ethic of hedonism practiced as Supercapitalism (Reich) in which all human organisms other than the oligarchs are ciphers.
The path here written is correct. It has had such names as passive or nonviolent resistance, civil disobedience and so on. A recent article lists “45 Acts of Noncompliance for Ordinary People”:
How to Resist <howtoresist@substack.com>
In my youth we had the American Friends Service Committee (AFSC) and the Central Committee for Conscientious Objectors (CCCO) to help us resist. This was before the Internet. Organizing now can be holistic, and yet still rationality counsels peaceful resistance. The individual voice of reason like Loris, and others such as <robinliberte@substack.com> are welcome to hear, because the price of misstep is extreme.
The longer we live through this period of time, the deeper we go into the existential questions of what we are actually doing "here." (On this earth, specifically in this country—though with the knowledge that the world, too, is shifting.)
Liberty, freedom, rights were, until just recently, abstract nouns.
It is from pieces like this that we can bring a concreteness to those words. And let's be honest: for many of us, we have NEVER thought about such things before. We were on autopilot (myself very much included) for our entire lives.
I still have friends who think that re-posting memes is an act of resistance. That's like throwing flower petals into the Grand Canyon.
Re-grouping around values will take some time. That's a part of our brains that have gotten very little exercise. And—someone has to bring this up—this is going to hurt. When those nouns move from abstract to concrete, there will be pain.
At the very least, there will be disruption to our comfort zones. Once values coalesce, the gears on the machine are next. This can be done peacefully (as in Lori's examples); but it cannot be done with memes and signs.
Yes John, this is indeed ‘going to hurt’. We — and by we, I mean anyone on the planet who cares about the future of democracy — are going to have to be willing to sacrifice both comfort and convenience. I wonder how many of us are ready for that.
I’ve started writing a post on it, but it’s taking a while to take shape. Possibly because other points are coalescing much faster, so it’s been nudged aside for the moment. We’ll come back to this conversation, I’m sure.
Thank you so much. Words we all need to hear and embrace.
💕👏
This is powerful, Lori,thank you for offering it. What strikes me most is how you’ve traced care back to the deepest values, showing that it isn’t just kindness in passing but a way of keeping liberty, equality, and justice alive in the ordinary rhythms of our lives. It’s easy to forget that authoritarianism isn’t defeated only in grand gestures or sweeping visions, but in the quiet practice of refusing to let our neighbors become enemies.
I hear in your words both realism and hope,the clear-eyed recognition of how contempt is weaponized, and the insistence that anchored hope remains possible when we live out our values in small, steady acts. It makes me think that perhaps the question isn’t whether care is enough to turn the tide, but whether anything else could possibly hold without it.
That reminder feels vital right now. Thank you for naming it.