This Is Not a Drill: Bravery as Strategy in the Face of American Tragedy

Succumbing to fear often leads to mistakes, including inaction, or too little action, too late.

Look to the year ahead. Those counting on the 2026 elections to provide a course correction should think again.

In the United States, in any normal midterm election, the party that holds the White House loses control of Congress. This was true in 1994 with Clinton, 2002 and 2006 with Bush, 2010 and 2014 with Obama, 2018 with Trump, and 2022 with Biden. It is a truism which—given how deeply unpopular the Trump administration is right now—should remain true in 2026. But it may not.

In 2020, Trump was faced with a classic “Dictator’s Dilemma.” He feared that if he relinquished power, he would be brought to account for his actions. On January 6th, 2021, he attempted a violent coup that was only thwarted due to the refusal of the U.S. military and his own Vice President to subvert the will of the voters.

Now Trump is back and he is faced with a similar prospect. As his advisor Peter Navarro said on public radio last week, the mindset of the Trump administration is that it must destroy its political opponents prior to the 2026 elections, and that it cannot allow the Democrats to take control of Congress next year.

In recent memory, the prospect of a president preventing congressional elections from taking effect has been unimaginable. But today, it is not at all hard to imagine that this could happen.

For instance, unlike the Electoral College, there are no constitutional provisions that speak directly to how a new House of Representatives is seated. Instead, the rules governing the swearing-in of new House members are determined by the outgoing House. If competing House delegations arrive from states like Wisconsin, New York, Pennsylvania, California, and Virginia, will Speaker Johnson and the narrow outgoing Republican majority seat the representatives-elect certified by state election authorities? Or will they follow Trump’s dictates, as they have just done this week in refusing to seat Representative-elect Grijalva of Arizona?

Of course, this is only one possibility—one that Americans may never be so lucky as to face. On the night of Thursday, September 25th, Trump issued his second anti-anti-fascist order. Unlike his first order, which was heavy on rhetoric and light on action, this second order directed all federal law enforcement to “investigate . . . disrupt and dismantle” any individuals and organizations engaged in “anti-fascism . . . anti-Americanism, anti-capitalism, and anti-Christianity,” as well as “extremism on migration, race, and gender; and hostility towards those who hold traditional American views on family, religion, and morality.”

We all knew this was coming. This is not a drill.

The following day, the architect of Trump’s ICE policies, White House Deputy Chief of Staff Stephen Miller, described the Democratic Party as, “not a political party; it is a domestic extremist organization." Meanwhile, Trump summoned America’s top military officers to Quantico to tell them to prepare for war, even as he escalated his threats against major U.S. cities and other American countries.

In the past, some argued that the way Trump tried to rule was “personalist,” a way of saying that he makes government all about himself. Others argued that he represented a broader authoritarian movement that mixes big-state capitalism with racial nationalism and religious fundamentalism. Today, it should be clear that both arguments were correct. We all knew this was coming. This is not a drill.

The psychological toll is real. After the deaths of so many good people, from the Jewish congregants murdered by a white supremacist at the Tree of Life in Pittsburgh, to the massacre by a rightwing religious fundamentalist of 49 people at the Pulse night club in Orlando, to the young woman rammed with a car by a neo-Nazi in Charlottesville, to the dozens of Americans killed by paramilitaries and police in 2020 while protesting against the police murder of George Floyd, to the many people who have died in ICE detention centers, to the two Minnesota legislators and their spouses shot by a rightwing extremist in the Twin Cities, to the teenagers murdered by a white supremacist at Evergreen High School on September 10th and the father killed by an ICE agent after dropping his children off at school in Chicago, Americans have been forced to reckon with what was once unthinkable. It is not only the death of our republic that we grieve.

In times like these we must remember that repressive violence often fails. This can be particularly true when government repression is in a middle range.

Relatively low levels of repression can sometimes keep a lid on social protest, discouraging citizens from moving from words to deeds. High levels of repression can often drive protest movements underground, making it difficult for activists to communicate with each other, much less with the broader public.

Because Trump and his policies are so unpopular, low levels of repression are no longer effective. Instead, his administration is escalating its use of violence. And while he has expressed admiration for brutal dictators like Kim Jong Un of North Korea, for the moment Trump does not have the ability to successfully suppress the democratic opposition. As a result, American communities are experiencing repression that oscillates in the middle range from low to high and back to low again.

Social movement studies show that if repression is in this middle range that is when it most often backfires. In this middle range, repression can produce popular outrage even as it fails to quell public protest. This is why we must be brave right now: Not because courage is admirable, but because it is opportune, smart, and necessary.

We must be brave right now: Not because courage is admirable, but because it is opportune, smart, and necessary.

What then must we do? First, Americans must publicly show our bravery. We call street protests “demonstrations” because of what they show: They are demonstrations of strength. They reveal depth of feeling, they proclaim numbers, they show who has overcome fear and is prepared to act. Small and mid-sized protests are happening daily in hundreds of American communities right now. But for the moment, they are not demonstrating the level of national opposition that actually exists to what Trump is doing.

Instead, most are waiting for the next planned major national day of action on October 18th. In the past, I have been an organizer of nationally coordinated protests like these. I understand the rhythms of coalition work and the need to assemble resources and organize mobilization. But we should not get stuck in only one pattern of organizing. It has been four months since the last major national day of action. In the absence of mass public demonstrations, Democratic elected officials are left as the primary opposition voices to Trump. That is not good for them—and certainly not for for us.

American labor unions have the power to lead a democratic opposition. Those who are union members or in union families have an important role to play. Some unions have provided significant leadership already. But anyone who was in the streets of Detroit in 1997, Seattle in 1999, Los Angeles in 2006, Madison in 2011, Chicago in 2012, or of Oklahoma City and Charleston, West Virginia in 2018, knows that our unions have the ability to bring many more people into street demonstrations. Labor unions also often have strong ties with community, faith, student, veteran, farmer, and environmental organizations. Together, they have the ability to move more people into the streets, more often, and on shorter notice.

Second, law enforcement officers and members of the U.S. military also have power. Despite Trump’s demands for personal loyalty to him and him alone, many officers and enlisted personnel take their allegiances and their oaths to the constitution and the Republic very seriously.

Historically, both in the United States and in many other countries, military and police forces have sometimes refused orders requiring them to violate their oaths. At times, they have taken the side of the people against authoritarian governments. Being lectured by a chickenhawk about making war on the American people could not have sat well.

Today we face the unthinkable. But the resilience and resistance of American cities show that another world is possible.

This is another reason that public demonstrations are important; they show those entrusted with public safety where the people stand. It is also one reason why disciplined nonviolence is critical; the contrast between legitimate protest and illegitimate repression must be clear. And it suggests that the US needs its moral authorities—its religious, community, and cultural leaders—to lead an ongoing campaign against all political violence.

This brings me to a third insight about this time in American history. At the moment, our cities are where the current crisis is being determined and where the possibility of a better world is being built. American democracy is deepest in our communities. They are where neighbors look after neighbors, schools support children and families, and government agencies are closest to the people they serve. Our cities, towns, and villages are where much needed reforms to provide good housing, healthy food, meaningful work, sustainable economies, sanctuary from violence, representative elections, and more democracy in every part of our daily lives are taking shape. For these reasons, our cities are the places both most targeted by Trump and they are where he has met his most determined resistance.

Petra Kelly once told us that, “If we don't do the impossible, we shall be faced with the unthinkable.” Today we face the unthinkable. But the resilience and resistance of American cities show that another world is possible. We simply must be brave enough to demonstrate our resolve, to recognize that there is no going back to the imaginary safety of the pre-Trump era, and to build a new system as he tears the old one down around us. The national institutions of the old republic cannot provide salvation. Our cities, our community institutions, our unions, and our courage in demonstrating the spiritual power of the democratic creed are the potent mix that can overcome our common tragedy.