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People participate in a "No Kings" national day of protest in New York on October 18, 2025.
This is who we are. And this is what our country must be: people with a soul-deep love for Planet Earth and all who inhabit it.
Shouts and honking horns... and a country being born?
Hey, hey, ho, ho... I don’t know. it’s been four days ago, as I write, that the second No Kings rally was held across the country—across the world. I can still hear the blaring horns; they sounded like music. Something fused and bubbled in the blare, a sense of connection and shared values, that isn’t going away. That was the uniqueness of this rally, or so I hope and feel at some deep place in my heart.
I attended the rally, with my sister and two friends, in Appleton, Wisconsin, where I now live—one of about 2,700 such rallies across the country. The several thousand people packing the streets of downtown Appleton were part of the 7 million people throughout the country who felt called upon to—shall we say?—join the future. This is my takeaway. This is why I’m writing about the rally today. Yeah, it’s over. But it’s not “done.”
No faux king way!
Excuse me as I quote one of the signs at the rally—one of thousands of angry and heartfelt cries put into words at the event. No Kings—a continuation of the rally held in June—was, as far as I’m concerned, an act of creative participation. We’re still in the process of creating our country.
So let me toss in a few more signs that I saw. The spirit and message of these signs fell into several categories. The first, unsurprisingly, was defiance:
And a zillion more, of course. Fury at DJT is unsurprising. Especially in the wake of his decision to “invade” American cities and turn desperate emigrants—indeed, brown-skinned people of every sort, including legal residents and American citizens—into the new enemy. And beyond that, Trump’s lust for power and his ability to herd together countless sycophants is consuming what’s left of American democracy and opening a door to God-knows-what, sometimes referred to as fascism. Collectively standing up to this is critical. No kings... no corporate oligarchs.
But there was more to the rally than fury and defiance, which is why I feel the need to write about it. As I say, this was a collective act of creative participation. What I truly and most deeply felt as I stood with my friends and loved ones in the middle of it, amid the endless cheers and honking, was the ongoing birth of national values. I felt them transcend political abstraction and come alive. A second category of signage could be described simply as: Who are we?
In the context of the rally, these were not simply nice-sounding words, shrugs of hope. I felt something far more significant, far more vibrant, in them. This is who we are. And this is what our country must be: Not an ever-fearful empire wannabe, defined by its declared enemies, manifested by its military budget and its impenetrable borders, symbolized by masked Immigration and Customs Enforcement agents and white Christian nationalists calling for war in the name of God, but...
Let’s just say, people with a soul-deep love for Planet Earth and all who inhabit it. This is the nation I felt coming to life at the rally.
Dear Common Dreams reader, It’s been nearly 30 years since I co-founded Common Dreams with my late wife, Lina Newhouser. We had the radical notion that journalism should serve the public good, not corporate profits. It was clear to us from the outset what it would take to build such a project. No paid advertisements. No corporate sponsors. No millionaire publisher telling us what to think or do. Many people said we wouldn't last a year, but we proved those doubters wrong. Together with a tremendous team of journalists and dedicated staff, we built an independent media outlet free from the constraints of profits and corporate control. Our mission has always been simple: To inform. To inspire. To ignite change for the common good. Building Common Dreams was not easy. Our survival was never guaranteed. When you take on the most powerful forces—Wall Street greed, fossil fuel industry destruction, Big Tech lobbyists, and uber-rich oligarchs who have spent billions upon billions rigging the economy and democracy in their favor—the only bulwark you have is supporters who believe in your work. But here’s the urgent message from me today. It's never been this bad out there. And it's never been this hard to keep us going. At the very moment Common Dreams is most needed, the threats we face are intensifying. We need your support now more than ever. We don't accept corporate advertising and never will. We don't have a paywall because we don't think people should be blocked from critical news based on their ability to pay. Everything we do is funded by the donations of readers like you. When everyone does the little they can afford, we are strong. But if that support retreats or dries up, so do we. Will you donate now to make sure Common Dreams not only survives but thrives? —Craig Brown, Co-founder |
Shouts and honking horns... and a country being born?
Hey, hey, ho, ho... I don’t know. it’s been four days ago, as I write, that the second No Kings rally was held across the country—across the world. I can still hear the blaring horns; they sounded like music. Something fused and bubbled in the blare, a sense of connection and shared values, that isn’t going away. That was the uniqueness of this rally, or so I hope and feel at some deep place in my heart.
I attended the rally, with my sister and two friends, in Appleton, Wisconsin, where I now live—one of about 2,700 such rallies across the country. The several thousand people packing the streets of downtown Appleton were part of the 7 million people throughout the country who felt called upon to—shall we say?—join the future. This is my takeaway. This is why I’m writing about the rally today. Yeah, it’s over. But it’s not “done.”
No faux king way!
Excuse me as I quote one of the signs at the rally—one of thousands of angry and heartfelt cries put into words at the event. No Kings—a continuation of the rally held in June—was, as far as I’m concerned, an act of creative participation. We’re still in the process of creating our country.
So let me toss in a few more signs that I saw. The spirit and message of these signs fell into several categories. The first, unsurprisingly, was defiance:
And a zillion more, of course. Fury at DJT is unsurprising. Especially in the wake of his decision to “invade” American cities and turn desperate emigrants—indeed, brown-skinned people of every sort, including legal residents and American citizens—into the new enemy. And beyond that, Trump’s lust for power and his ability to herd together countless sycophants is consuming what’s left of American democracy and opening a door to God-knows-what, sometimes referred to as fascism. Collectively standing up to this is critical. No kings... no corporate oligarchs.
But there was more to the rally than fury and defiance, which is why I feel the need to write about it. As I say, this was a collective act of creative participation. What I truly and most deeply felt as I stood with my friends and loved ones in the middle of it, amid the endless cheers and honking, was the ongoing birth of national values. I felt them transcend political abstraction and come alive. A second category of signage could be described simply as: Who are we?
In the context of the rally, these were not simply nice-sounding words, shrugs of hope. I felt something far more significant, far more vibrant, in them. This is who we are. And this is what our country must be: Not an ever-fearful empire wannabe, defined by its declared enemies, manifested by its military budget and its impenetrable borders, symbolized by masked Immigration and Customs Enforcement agents and white Christian nationalists calling for war in the name of God, but...
Let’s just say, people with a soul-deep love for Planet Earth and all who inhabit it. This is the nation I felt coming to life at the rally.
Shouts and honking horns... and a country being born?
Hey, hey, ho, ho... I don’t know. it’s been four days ago, as I write, that the second No Kings rally was held across the country—across the world. I can still hear the blaring horns; they sounded like music. Something fused and bubbled in the blare, a sense of connection and shared values, that isn’t going away. That was the uniqueness of this rally, or so I hope and feel at some deep place in my heart.
I attended the rally, with my sister and two friends, in Appleton, Wisconsin, where I now live—one of about 2,700 such rallies across the country. The several thousand people packing the streets of downtown Appleton were part of the 7 million people throughout the country who felt called upon to—shall we say?—join the future. This is my takeaway. This is why I’m writing about the rally today. Yeah, it’s over. But it’s not “done.”
No faux king way!
Excuse me as I quote one of the signs at the rally—one of thousands of angry and heartfelt cries put into words at the event. No Kings—a continuation of the rally held in June—was, as far as I’m concerned, an act of creative participation. We’re still in the process of creating our country.
So let me toss in a few more signs that I saw. The spirit and message of these signs fell into several categories. The first, unsurprisingly, was defiance:
And a zillion more, of course. Fury at DJT is unsurprising. Especially in the wake of his decision to “invade” American cities and turn desperate emigrants—indeed, brown-skinned people of every sort, including legal residents and American citizens—into the new enemy. And beyond that, Trump’s lust for power and his ability to herd together countless sycophants is consuming what’s left of American democracy and opening a door to God-knows-what, sometimes referred to as fascism. Collectively standing up to this is critical. No kings... no corporate oligarchs.
But there was more to the rally than fury and defiance, which is why I feel the need to write about it. As I say, this was a collective act of creative participation. What I truly and most deeply felt as I stood with my friends and loved ones in the middle of it, amid the endless cheers and honking, was the ongoing birth of national values. I felt them transcend political abstraction and come alive. A second category of signage could be described simply as: Who are we?
In the context of the rally, these were not simply nice-sounding words, shrugs of hope. I felt something far more significant, far more vibrant, in them. This is who we are. And this is what our country must be: Not an ever-fearful empire wannabe, defined by its declared enemies, manifested by its military budget and its impenetrable borders, symbolized by masked Immigration and Customs Enforcement agents and white Christian nationalists calling for war in the name of God, but...
Let’s just say, people with a soul-deep love for Planet Earth and all who inhabit it. This is the nation I felt coming to life at the rally.