The Coldest Winter

I remember a cold night around this same time last year—after the President of the United States had won the election, but had yet to take office. I couldn’t work that day, or sleep the night before. I imagined and ruminated on the worst of the terrors that might befall us, all of them legitimate and now real possibilities. I remember a crushing weight upon my soul—a fear of what might become of my country and the world. I feared for my family and my friends. I was shattered to the core with an uneasy feeling of existential dread—that a problem not of my making was to land at my doorstep and that I was too small a human being to confront it and protect what was mine to protect. I did not enjoy Christmas last year. 

I knew that if I chose to fight it would be a life of exhaustion, fear, and loneliness as far as I could see into that dim unknown. I knew nothing about movements, but I did also know that sacrifice is the soil from which any new enterprise must grow. The entrepreneur must grind and hustle for their idea if it will ever see the light of day. A soldier must sacrifice upon the field in either bravery or in blood for a victory to ever be achieved. A freedom fighter must be willing to walk into a blizzard of batons if their children are to enjoy the privilege of walking down that same street without the threat of violence. To oppose repression rather than passively accept it is not for the faint of heart and spirit.

I negotiated with myself for months over what I would be willing to commit to the cause, if at all. My family might be at risk, and I knew that the bad guys might come after me some day. Horrors innumerable dogged my every step. I would need to set aside other dreams, and there would be demands on my finances and time. I’ve never been involved in politics before and doubts about my own ability and capacity still haunt me. I would stand there night after night and stare into the abyss, tormented and alone with my fears. I doubled my daily vaping habit, and started sleeping half as much.

Once the pressure and the solitude were too much to bear and I went carefully into the world, probing in the dark for signs that others might feel the same way that I do. It is a bit cringy to say, but I felt called to do something about what was happening. Within days, I found like minded people. Even knowing almost nothing about how this is supposed to work, we started organizing together. It’s been 10 months since this movement started in a cold and dark February in America. Over that short window, this movement of which I am but a tiny part has become a living organism of incredible strength and resilience.

The first snows have fallen across the state and so we have come nearly full circle - to the place we started in both space and time. The movement which so shocked the world goes into a kind of hibernation where the frenzied and manic activity of a million souls is driven to return home for rest and reflection. Where are we? What have we achieved? Was it worth it? At the individual and the national level we should be asking these questions of ourselves.

For the national No Kings movement, I believe the answer is clear. The President of the United States is an autocrat, a conman, and an abuser and exploiter of human beings. He is now at the edge of utter political defeat. The damage he has caused and will continue to cause will be incalculable, but we have successfully pierced his armor—armor that both the old Republican and current Democratic parties were not able to shatter. With the pressure of a righteous ocean this movement has forced leaders into a far more aggressive posture. We have pushed a narrative of broad based opposition nationally, reinforced failing institutions, and stiffened the spines of courts, civil servants, and military leaders.

It was worth our sacrifice of time, money, and energy because our resistance is working. I have friends in Europe who have told me that while they are sad to see what is happening in America, they are deeply impressed with the forces of civil society that we have already been able to muster. We are accomplishing in months what takes many nations years. We have nothing to apologize for, and the 13 generations of patriots who came before us would be proud of what we have achieved.

For an individual, this is a more difficult question to answer. Many of us are new to politics and activism, and those with experience are finding themselves thrust into unfamiliar terrain where the old rules or skills just don’t apply. We are learning about social media, political philosophy, strategies for building and governing institutions, and recruitment at scale. This movement demands of us that we develop skills we never knew we needed to learn.

That means we may have found ourselves in a place that doesn’t best match our skills, our temperament, or our capacity to commit, and those mismatches are causing stress in our lives. As we enter this holiday of discontent, the cadence of American Life will slow. There is now time to reflect, and to reposition yourself where you can best serve and serve sustainably. 

Now is the time to consider your role in the movement and be aggressive about finding a new place within it if that is what you want to do. Now is the time to make friends, plan for the next year, strategize, read, and grow. All of us have a few weaknesses that we know about— and it wouldn’t be a bad idea to try to polish ourselves up a bit. Quit a bad habit, pick up a new skill, or read a book about history, politics, philosophy or society. This is how we build capacity. Movements are human enterprises, and the human work of bettering yourself, your friends, and your family must continue.  Learn we must and learn we will. 

A good friend in the movement once told a small crowd in one among the thousands of stand-ups in America today, “Honking a horn is a small act of courage”. Protesting isn’t just about registering your discontent—it’s also asking someone else to join you. Maybe one out of ten of those Horn Honkers decide to go to their first protest. Maybe one out of five of those attendees donate money or time to one of the many organizations holding our civilization together while barbarians try to destroy it. Each act of courage begets another act and this is the steel from which this movement can be built. Courage is a currency, and we must all learn how to acquire more and spend it faster.

 It is in the dark times when many human beings are first able to achieve a sense of moral clarity. All the clamor of the things that mattered so much before faded away. No one knows if they are truly cowardly or courageous until they are confronted with a difficult struggle that challenges wits, reflex or sanity. Refining ourselves is important to guarding us against our known weaknesses. This is my own struggle at this moment, a sense that I am not worthy or somehow not up to the task that is now before us. I do not believe I am alone in that sentiment, but it is isolating nonetheless.

The crisis of democracy that is now upon us was not our fault. Even those who voted for Trump - in many cases did so out of exasperation at a governmental system that was failing before Trump ever came down that escelator. Due to the neglect or malice of our leaders we now face a catastrophe that will challenge everything we hold dear. We have arrived at a thin line between liberty and tyranny, and it is upon us to garrison that line with all the strength and belief we can muster. It is not fair, but it is necessary.

As the bonds of common humanity are dissolved in service to the authoritarian project, we will see the ugliest of humankind. But we will also see its best. I am privileged to stand among them now—these normal people of dedication, intelligence, kindness, and strength that always rise when the sky darkens.

We are humble inheritors of this Great American Project. Centuries old, this project has always teetered on the thin edge of choice between smallness and greatness. Once in a while, with a bit of elbow grease and with fits and starts, it does have in its power the capacity to build that shining city on a hill. I believe it is worth defending every inch of that possible future and it is worth defending any cost. We are not entitled to our liberty - it must be - generation after generation - earned through a shared labor of love and sacrifice. 

The American homeland isn’t in our bloodlines or in the soil as the nationalists would have you believe. It’s the spirit of belief that a better future is possible and that we humble custodians of that legacy are enough to ensure liberty and justice, under the law—for all of us. We cannot and will not compromise on that, because America cannot exist without that central pillar to her character and her valor. 

The United States is a great nation, not because it does everything right, but because it gives us the tools to build that more perfect union. It was always a fixer upper of a nation, but that means it can grow and the moral arc of its destiny can be bent.  The future of every human being in your life, every love and antagonist hangs on the balance of what you choose to do—today, tomorrow and for all the days of the long march ahead of us. But I still have faith that even in the coldest winter that this spirit of American liberty cannot be extinguished by mere weather.

Happy Holidays

Bryan C. Winter
Bryan Winter can be reached via Bluesky (@savingtherepublic.bsky.social‬) and Facebook.