Against despair

There's been a shift in the media. Rather than reporting on Donald Trump and his possible election in an almost-gleeful manner, we've had a few instances of major publications sounding the alarm. Robert Kagan wrote an alarmist piece saying that a Trump dictatorship was inevitable, and we should get used to it. Meanwhile, The Atlantic has devoted its first issue of the new year to gaming out what would happen were Trump to win.

Here's the problem I have with these pieces. Their predicate is on the likelihood of a Trump victory. They are, in a sense, despair porn. "Let's stare into the Abyss and describe how awful it will be. It'll make for great copy!" It's a fine line between maintaining alarm and vigilance, and sinking into a slough of despond.

Yes, we need to be clear-eyed. We need to know what we're facing. We can't rely on some nebulous "hope". Hope is the catalyst, the spark. But we have to blow it into a roaring flame.

The problem with many of these alarmist pieces is that they offer no program to counter a Trump victory. The Kagan piece is especially guilty of this, as it has basically thrown in the towel, positing that Democrats are not up to the challenge of combatting dictatorship. How is this helpful? How will this prevent the future Kagan fears, but thinks is inevitable? 

If, heaven forbid, Trump does sneak in, are we to curl up and die? Are we to acquiesce to fascism? Are we to meekly submit?

Any essay which raises the alarm but then doesn't set out a plan of action is more than useless. It is actively harmful. There is an apocalyptic strain in human beings, one which expects the worst and revels in visions of hellfire. Why is this? Because it's easier to give up. It's easier to be fatalistic. Fatalism removes any need for positive action. "We're doomed, so I'll just watch the world burn down and die." 

I often say that my parents fled to this country from dictatorship, and I'll be damned if I let my inferiors turn the United States into one. Our nation has many flaws, large and egregious. But the idea of America is one to fight for, and one to treasure. Of all the nations on this earth, ours is not based on blood and soil. It is based on an idea, one of freedom and liberty. All are welcome to partake. For much of its history it honored these ideals more in the breach than the observance. But the outcasts, the ones who were not meant to partake in this nation's bounty never wavered. They never faltered. They persevered to make this country live up to those ideals. They fought, they bled, they died. None of the rights we now enjoy were ordained from on high. They are a result of constant struggle, of people not willing to be consigned to the status of second-class citizens. A country based on blood and soil would have quashed these movements. Instead these movements flourished, and, bit by bit, realized America's promise. There is far to go, but the road is clear.

I can't tolerate fatalism. Fatalism is anti-human. It posits that we have no agency. We have no power to affect our situations. We are merely slaves to the powerful, and will be lucky to survive.

I'm no one's slave. I am a free human being, living in a free country, and will strive to make sure it remains free. Despair is not an option for me, a Latino. I will be in the crosshairs of the like of Charlie Kirk and his odious brethren. And I'm not going to give them the satisfaction of handing them victory. I won't even say that I'll take them down with me. No. I'll take them down, and watch them writhe in agony as I prosper. They are my inferiors, intellectually and morally. I have no problem saying that, as I know it to be true. They are yesterday's people, and history will shake its head at them, wondering how such small people thought they could ascend past their station.

If you feel despondent, stop. Breathe. Recenter yourself. Know that there are more of us than them. Know that they seem to be legion because they have the loudest mouths. But that and three bucks will get you a cup of coffee at Starbucks. Their power is a chimera, an illusion. Their screeching is a sign of fear. They screech because they know that this is their last chance for generations to seize power and create the dystopia of their fantasies. But we won't let them. We are bathed in power and righteousness. We are the children of the sun. And we will win.

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