Tag: deportation

The predicament of the present moment became horrifyingly clear to me yesterday in the parking lot of the grocery store around the corner.

That sentence itself depicts the terrifying absurdity of the situation. When horror can be found in a grocery store parking lot, things are really getting out of hand.

I had just learned of what Donald Trump and Nayib Bukele, the Bitcoin dictator of El Salvador, got up to in the White House. The two of them…

• declared that there was no way that either one of them was going to comply with the order from the Supreme Court of the United States of America, to free Kilmar Abrego Garcia and return him to American soil.
• had a conversation in front of journalists’ cameras in which they agreed that American citizens will soon be sent to concentration camps in El Salvador. “Homegrowns are next, the homegrowns. You’ve got to build about five more places,” Trump said. “Yeah, we’ve got space,” Bukele responded. Cabinet officials in the room, including Secretary of State Marco Rubio, responded by laughing, as if the idea of sending American citizens to concentration camps in a foreign country was delightfully amusing.

I was feeling shocked, and disturbed when I arrived at the grocery store to pick up ingredients to make dinner for my kids. Then, as I walked toward the store, I was greeted by a man who was putting a bag of dog food into the back of his Tesla. He smiled and waved his hand at me.

I couldn’t help myself.

“How does it feel,” I asked, “to drive a swastika?”

He laughed, the same kind of laughter that came from the White House officials who had just heard the President of the United States propose sending American citizens into foreign concentration camps.

“Oh, I know it’s a problem,” he said, “but it sure is a great ride.”

He got into his Tesla and drove away.

I stood there in the parking lot, even more bewildered than I had been before, until car honked at me to get out of the way.

Yes, I thought. Never mind the rolling swastikas. People need to get their nibbles. Heck, here I was walking into a grocery store, while plans for a new Holocaust were being discussed in Washington D.C. What was I thinking? Why wasn’t I doing something, anything?

I felt like reality was breaking, so I pulled out my phone and called an old friend, Horace Bloom, who wrote a book called Trump And Hitler: A Responsible Consideration back in January of 2017.

“I’m confused,” I said, and told him about the encounter I had just had with the nonchalant Tesla owner. “What the heck is going on?”

“This is what it’s like in a fascist country,” he said. “People expect it to be like an Indiana Jones movie, where there are two sides in obvious conflict, and everyone knows that the Nazis are bad, and all you have to do is punch the Nazis. It’s not that simple.”

“What’s a better fictional example, then?” I asked.

“I’ve been thinking of an episode of Doctor Who from last year called Dot and Bubble,” he told me. “It’s set in a world in which everyone lives most of their lives in an online bubble, performing social media activities while they ignore the physical world around them. Unfortunately, there are giant bugs eating people and assassin drones killing people. Hardly anyone notices, and The Doctor has to practically beg people to try to pay attention so that he can help them escape.”

“That’s definitely a commentary on the present threat,” I agreed, “but what lessons does that episode suggest to you?”

“The Doctor succeeded in getting some people out of danger,” Bloom said, “but many people died. The success that he had was due to his perseverence. Even when he was ignored, he kept trying, and focused on explaining the basic reality of the danger people were facing.”

“How does that translate to the way that we confront with growing fascism under Donald Trump?” I asked.

“First, expect to be frustrated. Second, don’t give up. We can make progress, but it will be slow, and the progress we make won’t feel rewarding. Forget all the adventure films set during World War II. It’s just not that simple. The reality was much more challenging. Most Germans just went about their business during Hitler’s reign. Those who resisted were few and far between. It took a global war, with bombs falling on German cities, to shake people out of their complacency.”

“That doesn’t give me much hope,” I said.

“I’m not going to preach hope, because the circumstances are dire. However, while the Nazis are obvious precedents to Donald Trump that give clues to what to expect under his fascism, but what we’re facing is not going to be a sequel of the Third Reich,” Bloom responded. “In fact, it’s much worse.”

“Oh great. How can this be worse than the Hitler and the Nazis?”

“Germany had some industrial strength,” he said. “but the country was weakened and impoverished aftermath of World War I. The United States right now is not coming from that kind of vulnerable position. America is economically and militarily dominant in a way that Germany under the Nazis never were. Hitler never had nuclear weapons, much less military drones equipped with artificial intelligence. If any alliance even tries to stand up to Donald Trump, the world will be destroyed.”

“So, we’re doomed.”

I could tell that Bloom was trying to be patient with me. “We are in a difficult position. Things have never been darker, and they’re going to get darker. That doesn’t mean there’s nothing we can do.”

“What can we do, then?”

“Try something, every day. Never give in to the supposed normality of the fascism of Donald Trump and his Republican supporters. Keep Marco Rubio in mind. He surrendered to Trump, but his humiliation is constant. Even as Secretary of State, Rubio is made a laughing stock every day. Do something outside of the normal every day, even if it’s something small. Defy the routine of living in a fascist society. Embody the abnormality of what’s happening”

“I don’t understand.” I admitted. “What is abnormality going to achieve?”

“We cannot defeat the fascism in a head-on confrontation. That’s why a violent rebellion is the last thing we should contemplate. Violence accepts the fascist rules of conflict, and peace-loving liberals are never going to win a street battle with the FBI or the National Guard. We need to be true to who we are: Our strength is that we defy the narrow version of normality that the fascists crave. By standing out, metaphorically and literally, we remind people that what the fascists do and say is not universally accepted, and is not acceptable.”

“But that’s what we’re already doing,” I countered.

“Yes, and it’s working as much as anything is going to work. Look at what happened with the street protests of April 5. In just three months, people forced corporate media to shift from the claim that there is no resistance to an acknowledgement that resistance is widespread. That’s progress. It doesn’t mean that we’re going to win. Expect failure. Expect to be defeated individually. You may go to prison. You may even be killed by the fascists. That’s what fascists do.”

“What’s the point of resistance, if they’re going to kill me anyway, or lock me up?”

“Life is a losing game,” Bloom said. “You’re going to die, eventually, one way or another. The relevant question is whether you are going to make your life worthwhile. If you end eighty years old, sitting in a rocking chair, living for decades under fascist rule, that’s not going to be comfortable. Maybe you die sooner, but with the satisfaction that you didn’t go along, and that you didn’t make it worse for others.”

“That’s the best that you have for me?”

“I could lie to you,” he said, “and tell you that I have a winning formula that is sure to defeat Donald Trump, but despite what Woody Guthrie sang, no, the fascists are not bound to lose. The question of what we do to confront fascism is the same as the question of what we do to confront death. We face that we are not in control, and we accept that we are going to lose in the end, and then we get about the business of living in truth and decency and freedom for as long as we possibly can, without fear of other people seeing us do it.”

I didn’t have anything to say to that. Bloom heard my silence and said one more thing before we ended the call.

“Anyone who tells you they have a better plan is a liar. Look at the history of fascism, and it will tell you an ugly truth: Few people get out of it alive. Most of those who do are cowards. You have to choose if you’re going to be one of the cowards. Most people are going to be like that guy with the Tesla. They’ll keep on driving down the road in comfort, choosing not to think about the consequences of their comfort. Are you going to be like most people?”

To be frank, I’m not sure what to make of what Horace Bloom told me, but it feels like the most honest conversation I’ve had since Donald Trump walked back into the White House. Maybe the truth we’re confronted with is a new version of the classic bumpersticker: If you’re not confused, you’re not paying attention.