What will be our history? by Barry Rosenbaum

Last Saturday, we paid homage to the 250^th anniversary of Paul Revere’s Midnight Ride as we held marches, rallies, and other actions in defense of democracy and the rule of law. These events were sponsored by a multitude of organizations, some long-established (like Indivisible and Move-On) and others formed in response to Trump’s current rampage (50501, Hands Off, April 19^th Day of Action, No Kings). Just as with the earlier April 5^th actions, these events took place in hundreds of locations, coast-to-coast, and internationally, in huge numbers and with magnificent creativity.

When we were schoolchildren, we learned the story of Revere’s brave ride, which actually began in a rowboat. A friend of Revere’s held two lit lanterns in the tower of Christ Church (now the “Old North Church”) per the predetermined signal — One if by land and two if by sea — to indicate that the British troops planned to row “by sea” across the Charles River to Cambridge. After crossing the river himself, Revere rode from Charlestown to Lexington, Massachusetts, warning “American insurrectionists” — which we would now rightly call freedom fighters — all along his route that British soldiers stationed in Boston were about to march into the countryside northwest of the town.

We take for granted that Revere chose to undertake this dangerous mission and that he was triumphant in the end. Yet, many events such as this famous ride were fraught with uncertainty and grave risk at the time they were undertaken — the Abolitionists seeking to end slavery or the Freedom Riders seeking to end segregation. We all have seen pictures of Representative John Lewis’ bloody face after his skull was cracked during the Selma march. Without knowing the outcome, the participants in these efforts were willing to accept the risks and place themselves in harm’s way so that justice stood a chance of being advanced.

Now is another such time. It is we who are first-hand witnesses to Trump’s attempt to dismantle the pillars of US democracy — the constitution, the legal system, the media, the universities — and it is we who are called to action.

The right of individuals to gather to publicly and peacefully protest is another of those pillars. Given the avalanche of unconstitutional actions that Trump has undertaken in just less than 100 days, we know that this freedom of assembly is far from guaranteed. He has repeatedly threatened to invoke the Insurrection Act of 1807, which would enable him to bring National Guard troops under federal control and to deploy them domestically. If he does so, Trump surely might use this awesome power to suppress public demonstrations (which he would characterize as insurrections), to stifle marches (which he would portray as civil unrest), and to halt public gatherings of any type (which he would accuse of supporting domestic violence).

How history will be written about our responses to this unfolding disaster and the amount of courage we summoned to actively oppose its destructive force will be determined long after these frightful days have ended, for good or ill. Will we continue to actively participate in this opposition movement — even if our actions are declared by the State to be illegal or if our chances of success seem increasingly remote? We are waist deep already in this quagmire, and whether our efforts at pushback will prevent it from swallowing us whole is far from certain. But we do know that if we fail to act, our democracy will be lost, whether that be for generations or in perpetuity.

In times past, I have taken comfort in the adage first articulated by the abolitionist minister Theodore Parker, and made timeless by Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. — The arc of the moral universe is long, but it bends towards justice. I don’t think I’ve ever fully appreciated how very long this arc must be, if indeed it is a universal truth at all. Even if it is, there is no guarantee that I will again witness its bending towards justice during my lifetime. But that is hardly a reason for inaction. As Congressman Jamie Raskin recently said, “To have courage is to see the danger and feel the fear, but to proceed with the righteous action anyway.”

I cannot predict for certain my future level of courage if our world turns even darker than it is now, but it is my intention to keep on marching, keep on writing, and keep on challenging this descent into autocracy, with May 1^st being the date set for the next global day of action.