Why Community Matters

American democracy depends on a majority coming together with common purpose

Photo by Ryan McVay via Getty Images.

Sometimes I hear criticism that I’m just preaching to the choir. As if in times like these growing our choir—one that harmonizes well and motivates others to join in—doesn’t matter so much.

But we have to keep expanding our numbers—it’s important to connect with those who are indifferent or doubtful—and not worry about reaching the minority who’ve been conned into an anti-democratic cult that rejects factual reality and scapegoats migrants. We have a democracy to save—and a fascist threat to beat overwhelmingly.

One of the readers in this community wrote to say to me that my writing makes her feel less alone. That my sharing her fears and hopes matters. That my reflections can lift her spirit when she’s despairing about our country.

Her kind comments moved me to reflect on how important it is right now for us to not feel alone. The forces of division want us to feel isolated and disconnected. They want us to doubt our own sense of right and wrong, to be unsure about what’s true and false.

They also want us to feel less—less American, less patriotic, less strong. From this sad, divisive perspective, our loss is their gain. They see themselves as more American, more patriotic, more strong. As if the intrinsic goal of the American experiment is not to support inclusion and participation. As if creating a sense of belonging and connection is not at the heart of what makes our diverse people feel whole.

Over the last nine years, a malignant narcissist has taken hold and spread his cancerously divisive thinking. You remember how his talk is always about him alone or what is his, not ours. He alone can fix our problems. And he had “my generals” and “my attorney general” and, particularly repulsive, “my Blacks.”

This sounded strange, but I didn’t fully register how this singular possessive attitude puts our American project in danger. We are all in this together—and as Americans we share the institutions of democracy. They are our courts, our military, our state department, our country—and our common values set forth in our founding documents. Equality. Freedom. Justice. And the central commitment to self-governance.

We may, for example, be furious with the downward spiral of the Supreme Court as it strips away women’s rights and increases our doubt that it is genuinely seeking justice. Yet that anger is likely mixed with sadness that one of the fundamental institutions of our democracy has become less credible and trustworthy. Signs of blatant partisanship make widespread social cohesion increasingly precarious. As if the majority of justices are saying that the nation’s highest court is not “our” court, the court of all Americans, but only serving a select minority.

We are living in a moment when there is only one governing party that is committed to democracy, one party that takes seriously their responsibilities as Americans. So last week when I was invited to speak at the 100th anniversary celebration of the Maricopa County Democratic Party in Arizona, I set aside my journalistic tendency to not appear partisan. I hoped that by taking part in their community I could help their choir sing better.

At the gathering of more than 300 progressives, I shared many of the ideas I’ve written about here. About the growing threat of fascism. About the dangers of despotism as articulated by George Washington in his farewell address in 1796. About the idea of democracy so profoundly described by Abraham Lincoln on the Gettysburg battlefield in 1863. About the dangers that MAGA Republicans represent for our republic as described by President Biden at Independence Hall several months before the 2022 midterms. About kindness (not cruelty) as an expression of civilization that Illinois Gov. J.B. Pritzker shared at a college commencement. And finally the meaning of democracy and its role in creating community that author E.B. White penned in The New Yorker in 1943, amid World War II and the threat of fascism.

It was important to me to not simply offer my own thoughts and words, but to share the thoughts and words of other Americans who have wrestled deeply with the fundamental questions of who we are as a people and how we can come closer to fulfilling the ideals of our nation’s promise. In so doing, surrounded by a room of motivated Democrats, I felt less alone. I was reminded that we Americans are part of a long tradition and we are all stronger because of it.

On Saturday, the House passed foreign aid bills totaling $95 billion, including $60 billion for Ukraine as well as funding for Israel, Gaza and the Indo-Pacific. Yes, it was shamefully too long coming, made worse by the 112 Republicans who, compelled by a pro-Putin criminal defendant, chose Russia over Ukraine.

But for a flickering moment, House Speaker Mike Johnson chose to do the right thing and made this aid possible with the support of every Democrat (final vote: 311 to 112). In one hour on one day, we can even say there was a bipartisan community.

Today, the election interference trial of Donald Trump begins with opening statements now that a jury has been selected. We can be sure that he will use self-serving words intended to convince his followers that our judicial system is irreparably broken and the outcome of this trial cannot be trusted. As he did in 2016 and again in 2020, he will claim that the system is rigged, by which he means that any outcome except for his total victory must be unfair and rejected.

His goal here, of course, is to save his own skin by driving us apart. With insults and lies and gaslighting, he will do everything he can to make us think there’s something wrong with us if we believe in our system of justice. In this time of tumult and doubt, when the principle that no one is above the law seems so shaky and we have millions of reasons to doubt many of our fellow citizens’ commitment to democracy and justice, it’s easy to see how cynicism takes over. But we can’t let that—or him—succeed.

Rather, we should linger close to great Americans who understood that our shared purpose and commitment to self-governance is what makes us whole, no matter how painful and precarious the path may be. As Lincoln said on a bloody Pennsylvania field that saw more than 51,000 casualties, we the living must be dedicated to “the unfinished work which they who fought here have thus far so nobly advanced.”

In the months ahead, we have the opportunity to take another step toward achieving the promise of democracy. The alternative is intolerable.

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