No Retreat, No Surrender

Like soldiers in the winter's night

With a vow to defend

No retreat, baby, no surrender

—Bruce Springsteen

This is me not waving the white flag. 

My country has been taken over by people who, in important respects, do not share my morals. I was raised by men and women who, leaving aside the very human character defects from which most of us suffer—dollops of avarice, lust and pride—were charitable and humble. I suspect, or at least hope, most of us were. 

But there’s a new gang in town, and its name is MAGA. They live by the Viking code of vanquishing and plundering their enemies (sorry Scandinavia, it was a long time ago, you got much better).

In The New York Times this week, David French considered why members of the MAGA gang don’t seem to care about the misery they inflict on others. The reason, French says, crediting an early twentieth century German political theorist, is that the political philosophy of MAGA is that of friend or enemy. When dealing with the enemy, any behavior, however repugnant by normal standards, is ok.

So MAGA is not my friend, doesn’t want to be, is not one bit interested in non-MAGAs like me and our pitiful, simpering weakness. To borrow from another famous German philosopher, they are supermen.

But MAGA barely won the last election. Based on the popular vote, half of us likely are not cool with the MAGA power play that is unfolding in the early days of the new administration. 

So why do I feel so alone in my foxhole?

I know there are others like me. I read opinion pieces expressing outrage and incredulity. But rather than clarion calls to battle, they sometimes seem more like the last gasps of people about to be burned at the stake. We are not witches, they cry, as the flames consume them. And then they are silent. And others too. No one wants to be burned at the stake. Seeing it actually happening to others understandably makes us feel like perhaps we should hide our pointy hats and broomsticks.

But the end is near only if we allow it to be. We have to screw up our courage and fight. It’s not as bad here (yet) as it was in countries occupied by Germany in WW II. Even there, people fought. They gathered in secret. They published resistance leaflets. They tormented and harassed their occupiers when they could. They kept hope alive until they were liberated.

We aren’t going to be saved by Eisenhower’s Allied forces, but then we aren’t as bad off as was German occupied Europe (again, yet). We must be our own army, fighting in courts, legislatures and elections. 

And we must fight against our own enervating despair. We must tell each other what we are doing, even the small things that may seem inconsequential in themselves but add strength and vigor to the efforts of others. We must give one another hope that we can succeed.

In America (still, so far), the path to victory is through the ballot box. We have to organize for that, of course. We have to campaign.

But first, we need to buck up. We can to this. We must. Our lives depend on it.