The so-called Founding Fathers of the United States of America were far from perfect. Compromised by various interests as they were, however, they were more aware of the various imperfections of the human character than might have been a band of starry-eyed idealists. Thus their legal productions are more reflective of reality than they might otherwise be: laws and amendments created in the finest moments of consciousness to protect us from ourselves in our worse moments.
In this year of 2026 CE I give thanks to the fathers of our country, and to whatever other powers may be, for the two-year term of office of congressmen. Members of the House, as they’re called, are supposed to represent the interests of their constituents, and the relatively brief term they serve doubtless reminds them of that fact. The recent spate of disruptive “town hall” meetings held by members of congress facing dissatisfied, agitated, and angry constituents has given us a good look into that dynamic. Recalling the old saying, “It depends on whose ox is getting gored,” we liberals have been delighted to see that most of the fiery rhetoric has been reserved for our Trumpian brethren.
There’s no doubt that many of us — perhaps even millions — have been looking forward to the mid-term elections, as they’re called with that same anticipation reserved for an oasis in the Sahara. If the hammerlock on Congress can be broken in at least one if its houses, the dismantling, or at least the hobbling, of some disastrous policies can begin. The president has stated publicly that he will be impeached if his party loses Congress. The statement reveals exactly what ails his administration: he thinks only of himself. He says nothing about tax policy, or trade and tariffs, or immigration, or ICE, or his designs on Greenland, Gaza, Venezuela, or Canada. His concern is simply and totally for his own image and comfort.
He shares that concern to some extent with many members of his own party who’d like to keep their lovely jobs. Sensing his weakening leadership and fearing to be left alone and unsupported in their campaigns, they’ve found religion (as it were).
There’s an old hymn that goes in part, “Like a mighty army moves the Church of God.” As smarty-pants teenagers we sang, “Like a mighty tortoise moves, etc.” Nowadays I often feel that way about the citizenry of the United States. Way back in Donald Trump’s first term, it became clear who and what he was, and what he would be if he could. During his third campaign he was even more explicit about all that. But not enough people feared that more than the threats he described to our country – aliens, drug smugglers, gangs, rapists, murderers, Somalis eating the pets of the good citizens of Springfield. He was back, and feeling entitled and unbound.
Still, millions of voters chose him, mainly because he hated or at least disliked those we liked least and promised more than anyone in his position can possibly produce. Untrammeled, he tore down a huge chunk of the White House, threatened NATO, plastered his name on the Kennedy Center for the Performing Arts, imposed tariffs on imported goods like someone playing red-light-green-light, wants Penn Station’s name changed to – well, you already know all this, thanks to what’s left of the various free media. And during all of this drama, utterly unprecedented in American history, he’s seemed to be having increasing difficulty keeping track of his marbles.
This is where the slow-responding mass of American citizenry kicks in. As the media catch every tic, every purple bruise and swollen ankle, every nonsensical attempt at a sentence that ends up instead a tossed salad, every stumble on Air Force One’s boarding stairs, awareness grows that something’s missing upstairs. It’s nothing new in governance; think George III of England, Ludwig II of Bavaria, and Peter III of Russia. But it’s now, not long ago, and either hurting or threatening a lot of people (I just got a description of life in Minneapolis, where kids don’t dare to go to school or parents to the grocery store. The good news there is that the citizens, with the help of the police department, have put together a support and resistance movement).
Frightened of what the government can do if it’s turned against its citizens (even Vermont is getting ready for the arrival of the goons), emboldened by the obvious confusion and chaos at the top, and encouraged by the prospect of the election day now only nine months away, the internet is blooming with would-be Thomas Paines.
Admiral Yamamoto could have said it best: We have awakened a sleeping giant.