Dearest Martha,
It is fall here in San Francisco which, for the locals, means the warmest weather of the year and rooting for, but ultimately being disappointed by, their beloved sportsball team, the Giants. The patrons at the bar that I frequent were ecstatic when one of their players hit a grand slam to win a game. They call it a walk off – such crazy terminology they have here. In celebration, Christmas lights were turned on and off, a bell was rung, drinks were poured and sloshed about, toasts were made, and much merriment ensued.
Yet, despite the ballyhooing and mirthfulness of the evening, I’m afraid the republic is in dark times. There is, lurking in many hearts, fear, anger, and distrust. On every face, the occasional sideways glance. Behind every veil, a hidden sorrowful countenance. There is a rot spreading across the land. Truth, having been thoroughly thrashed by social media misinformation and lackadaisical reporting at the nation’s most venerable news outlets, has retreated into the shadows to lick its bloody wounds. It may never return. Some have called for civil war. They’ve labeled liberal ideas and the entire democratic party as radical and have suggested a purge of the most violent kind. In speaking about the country’s cities which he believes are beset with crime, the nation’s leader once said “If you had one really violent day … one rough hour—and I mean real rough—the word will get out, and it will end immediately.” More recently, I’ve heard talks of killing off the indigent with lethal injections.
I’m afraid, Martha, the violence in this country with a long history of violence is nearing a tipping point. Several fortnights ago as summer began its ascent towards the longest day, a representative in the great state of Minnesota was shot and killed. Then, last week, a provocateur with a history of divisive and troubling rhetoric was murdered at public event. This could be the spark the current regime is looking for. Officials in the government have vowed to crackdown on anyone who speaks ill of this man or refuses to mourn in an “appropriate” manner. They are making lists. People are being pilloried in the online public square.
In addition to making speech a punishable offense, the government is sending troops into cities. Masked men with badges and firearms roam the streets. Honest workers are disappearing from the fields and factories. Temporary gulags have sprung up like the most stubborn and unsightly weeds.
Though I miss you, I am glad you are not here to witness what is happening. You and the children are far safer where you are. I trust that the family is well and that your sister Mary is excited about her forthcoming nuptials. I miss you terribly and promise I shall return as soon as I have finished with my affairs in this violent and unpleasant land. Keep a light on for me and pray for my safe return.
Most affectionately and kindly yours,
Bartholomew
Sometimes, I find it helpful, or at least playful, to think of our current moment as an epistolary tale from a bygone era. This moment feels more like fiction than reality and I can’t tell if I want to slink away and hide for the next few years, or poke the bear. Like most people, I’ll sit paralyzed and do neither while the world crumbles.
For days, I’ve been watching and reading and trying to process what’s happening in the wake of last week’s event. I’m watching as prominent and smart people on the left are cautiously, and perhaps judiciously, avoiding mentioning last week’s event by name or the person involved by name. I’m stunned when I see headlines like the one in the Times that reads, “White House Plans Crackdown on Liberal Groups.” Some of the very folks who would like the rhetoric to be toned down are also vowing to hunt down those who mock last week’s event or don’t mourn properly. These feel like very dark times, especially if you consider yourself to be a liberal or a progressive. Lists are being compiled and circulated, people are being doxxed, harassed, and fired.
I’m at a loss on how to function and move through this moment in time. It feels as though with each passing week more threats to our freedoms emerge. Our slide towards fascism seems to be quickening and I worry that as our government continues to shred the first amendment and dictate what is and isn’t allowed to be said, calling fascist behavior what it is will have repercussions. As a member of the “out” group, I worry about my rights. I worry about people like the far-right activist who pledged to make “everyone I find online who celebrates his death Famous, so prepare to have your whole future professional aspirations ruined if you are sick enough to celebrate his death.” The net effect of this is a feeling of paranoia and a desire to disappear. The net effect is to wish I were more secure in life: maybe re-married with enough wealth that I could weather any economic storm or move to another country if I had to or wanted to. Sadly, that’s not where I am.