No we sure can’t pretend anymore! The Democratic Party needs to be or have better messaging! Senator Sanders knows, Senator Murphy knows! As for myself, well ihave a lot more learning to do! Purchased saving our democracy! That should be a good start! Everyday is a new adventure! At least for myself! So Humpty likes to us A.I in a negative way! Well I certainly have shoveled a lot of shit in my time! Even dug out a septic tank! Humpty Dumpty is full of shit himself! Sorry for the bad language! I none shits himself on the golf disgusting! Wondering where are his diapers he needs!Thank you for the nice article!
So damned insightful and important. Thank you. But also frightening...that so many of our fellow Americans are afraid to speak out. We know where that leads. And we're well on our way there.
You just made sure I never go on those dating apps.
Her getting preggers wasnt a plot twist. (Let’s be honest if he was able to convince her to the nasty that without a ring I m gonna be shocked . )
T she dodged a bullet . This I didn’t know this!
LOLOLOL. There’s a tiktoker /content creator I follow he had to do the same thing put no GQP on his dating profile.
Honestly this article can be printed in Seventeen or Cosmo! It feels so relevant and lot of women would agree with you.
I felt when maga was beginning in 2015 it was a cult or it was like listening to bad carsales man or anyone in an MLM .
I m soooo glad you are naming names. These celebs live and die by their movies unlike us real people who live and die on political decisions .They also need to remember their history. Celebs/Hollywood are forgetting there was a time in 1940s and 1950s where other stars , crew people and writers were blackballed for being a communist .Those people like Trumbo (who didnt get a writing credit for roman holiday til 2011 thats a fucking travesty) had to use fronts (people who would turn in their works for them to major studios for them). It wasn’t until the 1960s the studios grew a f ing back bone. But yes same flavor of Janky ass coffee.
I cant wait for the day when Caring Empathy Kindness and decency are back to being leaders of how we need to live our lives.
I ll be honest here I dont go to church. I did go to church on and off as kid and teen but now I dont go .
Bring it back to Politics yes Dems need to figure out the cure because things arent gonna be magically changed. We need to address all the issues in our own way. Zohran’s way isnt the only way to message (l am literally arguing with someone on threads about this) there isnt one way but we need to have a slogan or a line like FDR did to say we will fix it .
Cheeto And the Nazi Economic Game: Screw Everybody Except The Wealthy
It has been clear since the 1980’s and Reagan that the main economic policy was to hand their wealthy donor class tax breaks and make the rest of the electorate pay for it It’s the story of the privileged class, superior genetics(RFK Jr and his eugenics crap), and “we deserve to rule” kind of policy that led eventually to the political strategy of “trickle down economics(TDE)” Give the wealthy a bunch of money out of the pockets of the middle class and then that money will be distributed to the inferior human beings “below them” The Republican gambit has always been “we’re better than everyone else” so join us….we’ll elevate your game
A couple of studies have now shown that TDE doesn’t work and that the wealthy just become wealthier with an ever increasing wealth gap as a result and as a result everybody else gets poorer It’s now clear that that Cheeto and the Nazis are living Greed/Power Corrupts, and Absolute Greed/Power Corrupts Absolutely
Yes, the protests over the weekend in my view are about saving the democratic Republic but that societal unrest has underpinnings in the economic inequality that is being foisted on the American people by the current Nazi regime in the guise of inflation WE the People have had enough and it’s French Revolution 2.0(21st century style) and the way to screw the wealthy is to tax them and level the playing field(in the 1950’s the effective tax rate for top 1% was 42 to 45% and now 26 to 28%!!!)
Much appreciate your thoughtful piece. I've culled a number of your sentences for my 'Quote Compilation' to both refer to again and to pass along as nuggets of wisdom to others who could benefit from introspection.
Paul, that honestly means a lot — thank you. I’m honored to have made it into your “Quote Compilation.” I always hope these essays give people language for the things they’ve been sensing but hadn’t quite articulated yet. The idea that you’re passing some of those lines along to others for reflection feels like the best kind of ripple effect.
And I love the thought of “nuggets of wisdom” being shared — I just hope none of them come with a choking hazard label attached. Seriously though, I appreciate your generosity and the way you’re keeping these ideas in circulation. That’s exactly how introspection turns into impact.
My wife and I just returned from a week in Egypt, and four-night trip on the Nile beginning in Luxor and ending in Aswan. Much of Egypt's ancient history has been uncovered from centuries and centuries of Nile flooding. On the plane home I thought a lot about world history. It has only been nearly 250 years when a large country has been a democratic republic—a blip on humans inhabiting this earth. It was all kings, emperors, tyrants, dictators and czars. Even Athenian democracy was but one form of their four governments in ancient times, and even then under 20% of the population could speak or vote, and only males. Authoritarianism is on the rise again. Why do people submit? Complicated answer. But clearly silence is consent, like it is once again in Egypt, a third world country. We can live free and engage, or we can refuse vote, remain silence and live under a dictator. It boggles my mind that this is what we are staring at.
Keith, this is such a sharp reflection — thank you for sharing it. You’re absolutely right: 250 years of democratic experiment is barely a blink in human history, and yet we tend to treat democracy as though it’s the natural order of things rather than the fragile anomaly it really is.
Your point about Egypt is fascinating — a place where civilization itself was born, and yet millennia later, authoritarianism still reemerges in slightly modernized packaging. It speaks to something deeper in human psychology: the comfort of hierarchy, the illusion of order, and the fear of chaos that keeps people obedient. Erich Fromm once called it “the escape from freedom.”
And you’re spot-on about silence. It’s never neutral — it’s a vote for whoever’s shouting loudest. When people stop believing their voice matters, someone else is always waiting to use it for them.
I really appreciate how you tied your travel reflections to the larger story of civic decline. We often think history is behind us, but as you just reminded everyone, it’s right beside us — and it’s watching how we respond.
Thank you for your fine article. I especially appreciate your comment above. For people of my generation (I'm 78), even those of us who have studied history intensively, democracy has seemed like the natural order of things. That sentiment may largely have been based on the idea of progress. Just like technological progress, we thought political and social progress was headed in the direction of democracy and social justice. We were inspired by Martin Luther King's idea that "the arc of history bends toward justice," even as our study of history caused us to think that this was not necessarily so.
Jacques Lusseyran — a French Resistance fighter, memoirist, and educator — offers a vivid, morally exacting example of how courage and civic responsibility stand opposed to apathy. Blind from childhood, Lusseyran cultivated a heightened attentiveness to others that shaped a life of quiet but relentless resistance during World War II.
His memoir, And There Was Light (Et la lumière fut), reframes bravery as a sustained ethical practice and casts apathy not as neutral indifference but as political cowardice: the willing abdication of the duties that bind citizens to one another.
Blinded at eight in an accident, Lusseyran did not retreat from the world.
Instead his loss of sight intensified his moral perception. Deprived of visual cues, he learned to attend to voice, intention, and presence; these sharpened capacities produced an ethical imagination that saw moral facts as clearly as sighted people see objects.
That inward sharpening, coupled with Catholic and humanistic influences, led him to a fierce sense of personal integrity and communal obligation. For Lusseyran, moral seriousness meant that integrity must have public consequence. This is key.
When France capitulated and collaborationist structures spread, Lusseyran turned that moral seriousness into concrete action. He founded and led a resistance cell in Paris, the Groupe Vérité, doing the unglamorous but essential work of recruiting, disseminating information, protecting comrades, and coordinating sabotage and intelligence.
His leadership was not theatrical heroism but a steady practice of responsibility: risking his safety not for glory but because injustice threatened others.
In his view courage was fundamentally relational — rooted in solidarity — and thus the refusal to act in the face of oppression was itself a form of betrayal.
Seen through Lusseyran’s life, apathy becomes political cowardice.
Apathy is not merely emotional numbness or passive disengagement; it is an active evasion of responsibility that enables oppression.
Citizens who shrug and say “it’s not my problem” permit unjust structures to calcify; those who prioritize personal comfort and safety at the expense of collective goods normalize injustice. Let us take serious note.
Fear, despair, and cynicism can produce apathy, but Lusseyran’s example suggests that inner hardship need not lead to abdication; instead it can compel creative forms of solidarity.
The steady choice not to resist — multiplied by many — hollows democratic institutions and clears the path for authoritarian consolidation.
Lusseyran’s writing clarifies this moral stance. In “And There Was Light,” he emphasizes “presence” — an attentiveness to the needs of others and a readiness to respond.
Presence is the cure for apathy: it converts awareness into action.
His portrait of courage is deliberately mundane; bravery is found in a chain of ordinary decisions: to speak up, to shelter a comrade, to share scarce resources, to keep hope alive.
Under this view, cowardice is equally ordinary: the repeated small refusals to act that cumulatively permit evil to spread. Though Lusseyran often uses religious language, his insistence on mutual obligation has wide secular currency: people need one another, and moral imagination obliges us to intervene when we encounter injustice.
This diagnosis resonates powerfully today.
Contemporary political life confronts new sources of disengagement — information overload, cynicism, algorithmic outrage, and a pervasive sense that individual action is futile.
Those dynamics can numb moral responsiveness and make passivity feel rational.
Yet apathy continues to serve as a practical collaborator with injustice: low civic participation, the unwillingness to challenge harmful speech or policy, and the normalization of discriminatory practices all function as forms of tacit consent. Lusseyran’s example challenges that quiet complicity.
The remedies his life points to are practical and modest.
Cultivating moral imagination helps people see beyond immediate self-interest to the real effects of policies on real people. Building local solidarities and civic groups lowers the cost of courage by making resistance habitual rather than heroic.
Normalizing the idea that political life is part of moral life reframes civic duties as integral, not optional. Courage, in Lusseyran’s sense, is not a spectacular singular act but a steady willingness to accept some risk on behalf of others.
Jacques Lusseyran’s story reframes courage as a relational duty and apathy as political cowardice because the latter is an active surrender of obligations binding citizens together.
His life shows that resisting tyranny rarely requires immaculate heroics; it requires attentiveness, shared commitments, and the readiness to take modest but consequential risks.
To be politically courageous is to refuse the private comfort that allows public evils to grow — an ethic Lusseyran embodied and a standard by which political cowardice should be judged.
David, this is an outstanding addition — thank you for bringing Jacques Lusseyran into the discussion. His life is such a powerful illustration of what I was getting at: that apathy isn’t a neutral state, but a moral failure dressed up as prudence.
Lusseyran’s understanding of courage as relational — rooted in solidarity and shared responsibility — is exactly what we’ve lost in so much of our civic life. When he reframed bravery as the refusal to abandon others, even at personal cost, he gave us a blueprint for moral seriousness that feels radical today precisely because it shouldn’t be.
And that connection you draw between his heightened perception and his ethical imagination is beautifully put. It reminds me of what Hannah Arendt called “the banality of evil” — how moral blindness often begins with the simple decision not to see.
Thank you for taking the time to expand the conversation in this way. It’s readers like you who turn these essays into living dialogues rather than just commentary.
My mother was raised Baptist and therefore I was raised Baptist. I was born in 1953 and we didn't have the same saturation of information (good and bad) that we have now. I was lucky because 2 minister's in my life were actually Christians and followed the teachings of Christ. This would set up a dilemma for me the rest of my life, I could see when I was being conned. When I was 10 years old, my mother told me I was responsible for one of my Sunday School teachers having a nervous breakdown. Besides our family dynamics and my mother always annoyed at my Sunday rebellion of having to go to church, I would always question what I was being taught. I could never understand why God would be so mean if he loved us. And if we were Christians and Jesus was sent here to teach us a different way of living, why were we learning about the Old Testament? I questioned this at an early age. I could never understand why God would kill all the people in a flood. Were they saying there was no one worth saving in the whole world but Noah and his family? That God would just murder every one of his children, because they didn't understand something they may not have been taught? I didn't want any part of this God. He didn't seem very loving to me. I stood outside of church when I was about 7 years old and told God to go ahead and strike me dead, because I was not going to Sunday School and listen to that crap I didn't believe. Yet later in my life I believed in a personal God. A God who had my back and took me where I needed to go. I would go to different churches/religions just to see what they believed. I ended up never being converted or attending any church. I could never find one that had the love and kindness I believed in. I became eligible to vote in 1971 and actually voted for Nixon. The propaganda against McCarthy was good and I bought into what they were selling. Hey I was 18 years old and would get smarter as I aged. However, when the Kent State Massacre happened in 1970, I couldn't believe that the older generation was saying that those kids got what they deserved. People who had no compassion or love for these children, just like the God I would come to turn my back on. I guess that's why I voted for Nixon, he was going to end this war and stop the brutality. And I know where I got my independence of thought and never being worried about fitting in, I got it from my father. From an early age he would tell me he loved me and that I was as good as any man. There were and are morals and laws that I am obligated to follow, but I needed to think and analyze what I was being taught. I am so grateful for my dad and I loved and respected him with all my heart. I guess that's why I could never accept a hateful God.
Thank you so much for sharing this, Gail — your honesty really shines through. I can relate to a lot of what you said. My family actually started off in a Black Mennonite church in Inglewood, California before transitioning to the Assemblies of God — and if I’m being honest, the Mennonites were strict, but the Assemblies of God folks took judgment to Olympic levels while pretending they weren’t.
What you described — questioning early, noticing the contradictions, and recognizing when “faith” stopped resembling kindness — that’s not rebellion, that’s clarity. You were asking the same questions so many of us were quietly asking but didn’t have the freedom to voice.
I also really appreciate how you tied your independence of thought to your father’s example. That connection between moral grounding and critical thinking is powerful. It’s why so many people eventually walk away from hateful theology but still hold onto compassion.
Thank you again for engaging so thoughtfully and for sharing such a personal story. I’m sure more readers than you realize will see a piece of themselves in your comment.
Thank you so much, Kate — that truly means a lot. I wrote this piece hoping it would reach people who’ve felt that quiet unease but couldn’t quite name it yet. Hearing that you find it important and worth sharing tells me it’s doing exactly what it was meant to do. I really appreciate you taking the time to read and pass it along.
Yesterday I met friends for happy hour and a random, retired lady followed me in and invited herself to join us. She immediately talked about the two subjects most people initially avoid. Coincidentally, or by divine intervention 🤭, this article from a substack I follow addressed both. Moral of the story, I’m not capable of “preference falsification.”
Thank you, Anita — I’m starting to think that was divine intervention. The universe has a wicked sense of humor when it sends us someone who breaks the “no politics, no religion” rule before the first round of drinks even hits the table.
And I love that you mentioned preference falsification — it’s rare to meet someone who not only understands the concept but proudly declares immunity to it. That’s the spirit. We need more people who’d rather risk an awkward happy hour than live a filtered version of themselves.
So here’s to divine timing, good company, and saying the quiet truths out loud. Appreciate you sharing that story — and for carrying that unapologetic honesty everywhere you go.
This really spoke to me!! I'm a Christian, and comparing political apathy to Christianity and being evangelized to, that absolutely says it all. I haven't walked away from the church, but I have been looking at my faith journey differently in the past several years, along with my political beliefs. I can't understand how Republicans can consider themselves Christians when they don't follow the teachings of Christ. And I definitely don't understand how they can say that Democrats are hateful when what we want to do is exactly what Christ tells us to do for our fellow humans. So, as I make my faith journey, I grow stronger in my political beliefs as well.
Thank you so much, Pamela — your continued support really means a lot. You’re absolutely right that the Christianity many of us grew up with has been twisted into something judgmental and fear-based. There’s a billion-dollar industry behind that distortion — from televangelism networks to political “faith” PACs — all designed to monetize fear and weaponize piety.
What’s wild is that surveys from the Pew Research Center show a steady decline in affiliation with organized religion but a rise in people describing themselves as “spiritual but not religious.” That’s not a coincidence — it’s a reaction to exactly the hypocrisy you’re describing.
The version of Christianity pushed by right-wing media is less about Christ’s teachings and more about control — a machine that tells people to love thy neighbor while constantly handing them new reasons to hate them.
I’m glad the essay resonated with you, and I admire how you’re integrating faith and critical thinking rather than treating them as opposites. That’s the real kind of strength we need more of.
I find it difficult to support a lot of our local Democratic politicians here in Hawaii and elsewhere. In every single case without fail I look at the individual candidates and support those whose values and actions I respect. End of discussion. Anything else is just being lazy. We must soldier on. I’m a 77 year old haole from the state of Hawaii and I expect to have to live another twenty years on this planet. I’m channeling my mother who was born in 1916 and whose family was all from Scotland. She was frugal, fierce, and didn’t take any bullshit from anyone. She was a lifelong Republican who, by the grace of God, died in 2014 before the advent of the current group of criminals running our government. We will survive this and we shall prevail. (You can insert the text of Charge of the Light Brigade here- my mom memorized a lot of old poetry)
Thank you so much for reading, Mombeka — and for such a vivid comment. I admire your independent streak; you clearly inherited your mother’s “no-nonsense” gene. I get where you’re coming from about local politics in Hawaii — between the machine politics and the Tulsi Gabbard School of Spiritual Opportunism, it’s enough to make anyone suspicious of party labels.
I think what you’re describing — choosing based on values and actions rather than team colors — is exactly what genuine civic engagement looks like. It’s not lazy; it’s the hard work of paying attention. And honestly, we could use a lot more of that energy right now.
Thanks again for taking the time to share your story and for sticking with the piece. I have a feeling your mom would’ve appreciated your fire.
Thanks so much, George — and believe it or not, that was the trimmed-down version! I figured I’d spare everyone the director’s cut this time. I really appreciate you taking the time to read it and share it.
No we sure can’t pretend anymore! The Democratic Party needs to be or have better messaging! Senator Sanders knows, Senator Murphy knows! As for myself, well ihave a lot more learning to do! Purchased saving our democracy! That should be a good start! Everyday is a new adventure! At least for myself! So Humpty likes to us A.I in a negative way! Well I certainly have shoveled a lot of shit in my time! Even dug out a septic tank! Humpty Dumpty is full of shit himself! Sorry for the bad language! I none shits himself on the golf disgusting! Wondering where are his diapers he needs!Thank you for the nice article!
So damned insightful and important. Thank you. But also frightening...that so many of our fellow Americans are afraid to speak out. We know where that leads. And we're well on our way there.
Good article, very informative! Thank you for writing this essay of yours! It’s very helpful for everyone!
Excellent article. Thank you.
Another Banger of a Post.
You just made sure I never go on those dating apps.
Her getting preggers wasnt a plot twist. (Let’s be honest if he was able to convince her to the nasty that without a ring I m gonna be shocked . )
T she dodged a bullet . This I didn’t know this!
LOLOLOL. There’s a tiktoker /content creator I follow he had to do the same thing put no GQP on his dating profile.
Honestly this article can be printed in Seventeen or Cosmo! It feels so relevant and lot of women would agree with you.
I felt when maga was beginning in 2015 it was a cult or it was like listening to bad carsales man or anyone in an MLM .
I m soooo glad you are naming names. These celebs live and die by their movies unlike us real people who live and die on political decisions .They also need to remember their history. Celebs/Hollywood are forgetting there was a time in 1940s and 1950s where other stars , crew people and writers were blackballed for being a communist .Those people like Trumbo (who didnt get a writing credit for roman holiday til 2011 thats a fucking travesty) had to use fronts (people who would turn in their works for them to major studios for them). It wasn’t until the 1960s the studios grew a f ing back bone. But yes same flavor of Janky ass coffee.
I cant wait for the day when Caring Empathy Kindness and decency are back to being leaders of how we need to live our lives.
I ll be honest here I dont go to church. I did go to church on and off as kid and teen but now I dont go .
Bring it back to Politics yes Dems need to figure out the cure because things arent gonna be magically changed. We need to address all the issues in our own way. Zohran’s way isnt the only way to message (l am literally arguing with someone on threads about this) there isnt one way but we need to have a slogan or a line like FDR did to say we will fix it .
Thank you for putting into words how many of us feel. 👏🏼 blessings 💕
Cheeto And the Nazi Economic Game: Screw Everybody Except The Wealthy
It has been clear since the 1980’s and Reagan that the main economic policy was to hand their wealthy donor class tax breaks and make the rest of the electorate pay for it It’s the story of the privileged class, superior genetics(RFK Jr and his eugenics crap), and “we deserve to rule” kind of policy that led eventually to the political strategy of “trickle down economics(TDE)” Give the wealthy a bunch of money out of the pockets of the middle class and then that money will be distributed to the inferior human beings “below them” The Republican gambit has always been “we’re better than everyone else” so join us….we’ll elevate your game
A couple of studies have now shown that TDE doesn’t work and that the wealthy just become wealthier with an ever increasing wealth gap as a result and as a result everybody else gets poorer It’s now clear that that Cheeto and the Nazis are living Greed/Power Corrupts, and Absolute Greed/Power Corrupts Absolutely
Yes, the protests over the weekend in my view are about saving the democratic Republic but that societal unrest has underpinnings in the economic inequality that is being foisted on the American people by the current Nazi regime in the guise of inflation WE the People have had enough and it’s French Revolution 2.0(21st century style) and the way to screw the wealthy is to tax them and level the playing field(in the 1950’s the effective tax rate for top 1% was 42 to 45% and now 26 to 28%!!!)
Much appreciate your thoughtful piece. I've culled a number of your sentences for my 'Quote Compilation' to both refer to again and to pass along as nuggets of wisdom to others who could benefit from introspection.
Paul, that honestly means a lot — thank you. I’m honored to have made it into your “Quote Compilation.” I always hope these essays give people language for the things they’ve been sensing but hadn’t quite articulated yet. The idea that you’re passing some of those lines along to others for reflection feels like the best kind of ripple effect.
And I love the thought of “nuggets of wisdom” being shared — I just hope none of them come with a choking hazard label attached. Seriously though, I appreciate your generosity and the way you’re keeping these ideas in circulation. That’s exactly how introspection turns into impact.
My wife and I just returned from a week in Egypt, and four-night trip on the Nile beginning in Luxor and ending in Aswan. Much of Egypt's ancient history has been uncovered from centuries and centuries of Nile flooding. On the plane home I thought a lot about world history. It has only been nearly 250 years when a large country has been a democratic republic—a blip on humans inhabiting this earth. It was all kings, emperors, tyrants, dictators and czars. Even Athenian democracy was but one form of their four governments in ancient times, and even then under 20% of the population could speak or vote, and only males. Authoritarianism is on the rise again. Why do people submit? Complicated answer. But clearly silence is consent, like it is once again in Egypt, a third world country. We can live free and engage, or we can refuse vote, remain silence and live under a dictator. It boggles my mind that this is what we are staring at.
Keith, this is such a sharp reflection — thank you for sharing it. You’re absolutely right: 250 years of democratic experiment is barely a blink in human history, and yet we tend to treat democracy as though it’s the natural order of things rather than the fragile anomaly it really is.
Your point about Egypt is fascinating — a place where civilization itself was born, and yet millennia later, authoritarianism still reemerges in slightly modernized packaging. It speaks to something deeper in human psychology: the comfort of hierarchy, the illusion of order, and the fear of chaos that keeps people obedient. Erich Fromm once called it “the escape from freedom.”
And you’re spot-on about silence. It’s never neutral — it’s a vote for whoever’s shouting loudest. When people stop believing their voice matters, someone else is always waiting to use it for them.
I really appreciate how you tied your travel reflections to the larger story of civic decline. We often think history is behind us, but as you just reminded everyone, it’s right beside us — and it’s watching how we respond.
Thank you for your fine article. I especially appreciate your comment above. For people of my generation (I'm 78), even those of us who have studied history intensively, democracy has seemed like the natural order of things. That sentiment may largely have been based on the idea of progress. Just like technological progress, we thought political and social progress was headed in the direction of democracy and social justice. We were inspired by Martin Luther King's idea that "the arc of history bends toward justice," even as our study of history caused us to think that this was not necessarily so.
Jacques Lusseyran — a French Resistance fighter, memoirist, and educator — offers a vivid, morally exacting example of how courage and civic responsibility stand opposed to apathy. Blind from childhood, Lusseyran cultivated a heightened attentiveness to others that shaped a life of quiet but relentless resistance during World War II.
His memoir, And There Was Light (Et la lumière fut), reframes bravery as a sustained ethical practice and casts apathy not as neutral indifference but as political cowardice: the willing abdication of the duties that bind citizens to one another.
Blinded at eight in an accident, Lusseyran did not retreat from the world.
Instead his loss of sight intensified his moral perception. Deprived of visual cues, he learned to attend to voice, intention, and presence; these sharpened capacities produced an ethical imagination that saw moral facts as clearly as sighted people see objects.
That inward sharpening, coupled with Catholic and humanistic influences, led him to a fierce sense of personal integrity and communal obligation. For Lusseyran, moral seriousness meant that integrity must have public consequence. This is key.
When France capitulated and collaborationist structures spread, Lusseyran turned that moral seriousness into concrete action. He founded and led a resistance cell in Paris, the Groupe Vérité, doing the unglamorous but essential work of recruiting, disseminating information, protecting comrades, and coordinating sabotage and intelligence.
His leadership was not theatrical heroism but a steady practice of responsibility: risking his safety not for glory but because injustice threatened others.
In his view courage was fundamentally relational — rooted in solidarity — and thus the refusal to act in the face of oppression was itself a form of betrayal.
Seen through Lusseyran’s life, apathy becomes political cowardice.
Apathy is not merely emotional numbness or passive disengagement; it is an active evasion of responsibility that enables oppression.
Citizens who shrug and say “it’s not my problem” permit unjust structures to calcify; those who prioritize personal comfort and safety at the expense of collective goods normalize injustice. Let us take serious note.
Fear, despair, and cynicism can produce apathy, but Lusseyran’s example suggests that inner hardship need not lead to abdication; instead it can compel creative forms of solidarity.
The steady choice not to resist — multiplied by many — hollows democratic institutions and clears the path for authoritarian consolidation.
Lusseyran’s writing clarifies this moral stance. In “And There Was Light,” he emphasizes “presence” — an attentiveness to the needs of others and a readiness to respond.
Presence is the cure for apathy: it converts awareness into action.
His portrait of courage is deliberately mundane; bravery is found in a chain of ordinary decisions: to speak up, to shelter a comrade, to share scarce resources, to keep hope alive.
Under this view, cowardice is equally ordinary: the repeated small refusals to act that cumulatively permit evil to spread. Though Lusseyran often uses religious language, his insistence on mutual obligation has wide secular currency: people need one another, and moral imagination obliges us to intervene when we encounter injustice.
This diagnosis resonates powerfully today.
Contemporary political life confronts new sources of disengagement — information overload, cynicism, algorithmic outrage, and a pervasive sense that individual action is futile.
Those dynamics can numb moral responsiveness and make passivity feel rational.
Yet apathy continues to serve as a practical collaborator with injustice: low civic participation, the unwillingness to challenge harmful speech or policy, and the normalization of discriminatory practices all function as forms of tacit consent. Lusseyran’s example challenges that quiet complicity.
The remedies his life points to are practical and modest.
Cultivating moral imagination helps people see beyond immediate self-interest to the real effects of policies on real people. Building local solidarities and civic groups lowers the cost of courage by making resistance habitual rather than heroic.
Normalizing the idea that political life is part of moral life reframes civic duties as integral, not optional. Courage, in Lusseyran’s sense, is not a spectacular singular act but a steady willingness to accept some risk on behalf of others.
Jacques Lusseyran’s story reframes courage as a relational duty and apathy as political cowardice because the latter is an active surrender of obligations binding citizens together.
His life shows that resisting tyranny rarely requires immaculate heroics; it requires attentiveness, shared commitments, and the readiness to take modest but consequential risks.
To be politically courageous is to refuse the private comfort that allows public evils to grow — an ethic Lusseyran embodied and a standard by which political cowardice should be judged.
David, this is an outstanding addition — thank you for bringing Jacques Lusseyran into the discussion. His life is such a powerful illustration of what I was getting at: that apathy isn’t a neutral state, but a moral failure dressed up as prudence.
Lusseyran’s understanding of courage as relational — rooted in solidarity and shared responsibility — is exactly what we’ve lost in so much of our civic life. When he reframed bravery as the refusal to abandon others, even at personal cost, he gave us a blueprint for moral seriousness that feels radical today precisely because it shouldn’t be.
And that connection you draw between his heightened perception and his ethical imagination is beautifully put. It reminds me of what Hannah Arendt called “the banality of evil” — how moral blindness often begins with the simple decision not to see.
Thank you for taking the time to expand the conversation in this way. It’s readers like you who turn these essays into living dialogues rather than just commentary.
My mother was raised Baptist and therefore I was raised Baptist. I was born in 1953 and we didn't have the same saturation of information (good and bad) that we have now. I was lucky because 2 minister's in my life were actually Christians and followed the teachings of Christ. This would set up a dilemma for me the rest of my life, I could see when I was being conned. When I was 10 years old, my mother told me I was responsible for one of my Sunday School teachers having a nervous breakdown. Besides our family dynamics and my mother always annoyed at my Sunday rebellion of having to go to church, I would always question what I was being taught. I could never understand why God would be so mean if he loved us. And if we were Christians and Jesus was sent here to teach us a different way of living, why were we learning about the Old Testament? I questioned this at an early age. I could never understand why God would kill all the people in a flood. Were they saying there was no one worth saving in the whole world but Noah and his family? That God would just murder every one of his children, because they didn't understand something they may not have been taught? I didn't want any part of this God. He didn't seem very loving to me. I stood outside of church when I was about 7 years old and told God to go ahead and strike me dead, because I was not going to Sunday School and listen to that crap I didn't believe. Yet later in my life I believed in a personal God. A God who had my back and took me where I needed to go. I would go to different churches/religions just to see what they believed. I ended up never being converted or attending any church. I could never find one that had the love and kindness I believed in. I became eligible to vote in 1971 and actually voted for Nixon. The propaganda against McCarthy was good and I bought into what they were selling. Hey I was 18 years old and would get smarter as I aged. However, when the Kent State Massacre happened in 1970, I couldn't believe that the older generation was saying that those kids got what they deserved. People who had no compassion or love for these children, just like the God I would come to turn my back on. I guess that's why I voted for Nixon, he was going to end this war and stop the brutality. And I know where I got my independence of thought and never being worried about fitting in, I got it from my father. From an early age he would tell me he loved me and that I was as good as any man. There were and are morals and laws that I am obligated to follow, but I needed to think and analyze what I was being taught. I am so grateful for my dad and I loved and respected him with all my heart. I guess that's why I could never accept a hateful God.
Thank you so much for sharing this, Gail — your honesty really shines through. I can relate to a lot of what you said. My family actually started off in a Black Mennonite church in Inglewood, California before transitioning to the Assemblies of God — and if I’m being honest, the Mennonites were strict, but the Assemblies of God folks took judgment to Olympic levels while pretending they weren’t.
What you described — questioning early, noticing the contradictions, and recognizing when “faith” stopped resembling kindness — that’s not rebellion, that’s clarity. You were asking the same questions so many of us were quietly asking but didn’t have the freedom to voice.
I also really appreciate how you tied your independence of thought to your father’s example. That connection between moral grounding and critical thinking is powerful. It’s why so many people eventually walk away from hateful theology but still hold onto compassion.
Thank you again for engaging so thoughtfully and for sharing such a personal story. I’m sure more readers than you realize will see a piece of themselves in your comment.
This is a very important piece. Thank you very much. I deeply hope it will be widely read and shared.
Thank you so much, Kate — that truly means a lot. I wrote this piece hoping it would reach people who’ve felt that quiet unease but couldn’t quite name it yet. Hearing that you find it important and worth sharing tells me it’s doing exactly what it was meant to do. I really appreciate you taking the time to read and pass it along.
Yesterday I met friends for happy hour and a random, retired lady followed me in and invited herself to join us. She immediately talked about the two subjects most people initially avoid. Coincidentally, or by divine intervention 🤭, this article from a substack I follow addressed both. Moral of the story, I’m not capable of “preference falsification.”
Thank you, Anita — I’m starting to think that was divine intervention. The universe has a wicked sense of humor when it sends us someone who breaks the “no politics, no religion” rule before the first round of drinks even hits the table.
And I love that you mentioned preference falsification — it’s rare to meet someone who not only understands the concept but proudly declares immunity to it. That’s the spirit. We need more people who’d rather risk an awkward happy hour than live a filtered version of themselves.
So here’s to divine timing, good company, and saying the quiet truths out loud. Appreciate you sharing that story — and for carrying that unapologetic honesty everywhere you go.
Thank you so much! I feel honored that you personally replied and appreciate my “unapologetic honesty.” Cheers to us!
This really spoke to me!! I'm a Christian, and comparing political apathy to Christianity and being evangelized to, that absolutely says it all. I haven't walked away from the church, but I have been looking at my faith journey differently in the past several years, along with my political beliefs. I can't understand how Republicans can consider themselves Christians when they don't follow the teachings of Christ. And I definitely don't understand how they can say that Democrats are hateful when what we want to do is exactly what Christ tells us to do for our fellow humans. So, as I make my faith journey, I grow stronger in my political beliefs as well.
Thank you so much, Pamela — your continued support really means a lot. You’re absolutely right that the Christianity many of us grew up with has been twisted into something judgmental and fear-based. There’s a billion-dollar industry behind that distortion — from televangelism networks to political “faith” PACs — all designed to monetize fear and weaponize piety.
What’s wild is that surveys from the Pew Research Center show a steady decline in affiliation with organized religion but a rise in people describing themselves as “spiritual but not religious.” That’s not a coincidence — it’s a reaction to exactly the hypocrisy you’re describing.
The version of Christianity pushed by right-wing media is less about Christ’s teachings and more about control — a machine that tells people to love thy neighbor while constantly handing them new reasons to hate them.
I’m glad the essay resonated with you, and I admire how you’re integrating faith and critical thinking rather than treating them as opposites. That’s the real kind of strength we need more of.
I find it difficult to support a lot of our local Democratic politicians here in Hawaii and elsewhere. In every single case without fail I look at the individual candidates and support those whose values and actions I respect. End of discussion. Anything else is just being lazy. We must soldier on. I’m a 77 year old haole from the state of Hawaii and I expect to have to live another twenty years on this planet. I’m channeling my mother who was born in 1916 and whose family was all from Scotland. She was frugal, fierce, and didn’t take any bullshit from anyone. She was a lifelong Republican who, by the grace of God, died in 2014 before the advent of the current group of criminals running our government. We will survive this and we shall prevail. (You can insert the text of Charge of the Light Brigade here- my mom memorized a lot of old poetry)
Thank you so much for reading, Mombeka — and for such a vivid comment. I admire your independent streak; you clearly inherited your mother’s “no-nonsense” gene. I get where you’re coming from about local politics in Hawaii — between the machine politics and the Tulsi Gabbard School of Spiritual Opportunism, it’s enough to make anyone suspicious of party labels.
I think what you’re describing — choosing based on values and actions rather than team colors — is exactly what genuine civic engagement looks like. It’s not lazy; it’s the hard work of paying attention. And honestly, we could use a lot more of that energy right now.
Thanks again for taking the time to share your story and for sticking with the piece. I have a feeling your mom would’ve appreciated your fire.
A long read - yes. Critically important - YES ! I encourage everyone to read it - please.
Thanks so much, George — and believe it or not, that was the trimmed-down version! I figured I’d spare everyone the director’s cut this time. I really appreciate you taking the time to read it and share it.
Thanks for taking the time to create a trimmed-down version ! LOL Appreciate you !