A Contrast of Kindness

As I write, the NO KINGS march is imminent. Thousands of Americans, who miss the optimistic, progressive, inclusive country we once aspired to be, will risk facing violence to walk together through cities threatened by forced rule. Hopefully, by the time most people read this blog, the march will have proven its point: Americans love hope and independent thought expressed in a democracy, in spite of the fact no democracy is without flaws as no peoples are without flaws. They love freedom too much to submit to a self-designed king chosen by the disgruntled among us or any of his minions who specialize in unfairness and division. Minorities built from immigrants—both voluntary and forced–have proven their worth many times over. Ours is a country of immigrants with the possible exception of indigenous peoples who arrived long before most of our ancestors knew this land existed.

Bad choices often lead to regrettable results, and even massive marches won’t easily erase the damage already done to our national pride, optimism, and respect for one another. Citizens who encourage prejudice and hate are being formally lauded, and the march may well inspire hateful acts. In a small town, retribution can follow any of us home. Sadly, my husband who experienced not mere protests but riots in his law enforcement past has convinced me that he and I are finally too vulnerable to march any longer. We’re the kind of targets bullies seek. In our town, there are few safe exit points from the fray that anyone can count on, and my husband and I are advanced seniors now. Our physical challenges are less malleable. Our contribution won’t be presence this time but financial—what we can afford. We have no doubt the pendulum of power will swing back to more freedoms in the future as it has done in the past, but we may have departed the physical world by then.

A friend loaned me a recently published memoir by former Prime Minister of New Zealand Jacinda Ardern: A DIFFERENT KIND OF POWER. She was sometimes criticized for the same “sin” American liberals now face. We’re accused of being too empathetic. However, in her case her country elected her as their youngest prime minister in 150 years, glad for her compassion and love for the citizens and land that raised her and made her an especially effective leader. When an outsider committed mass murder in New Zealand, hoping to inspire copycats, she and the country acted immediately to enact gun control reforms. A volcanic eruption, COVID-19 and 9-11 were unusual challenges she handled with honest empathy, inspiring praise for her success while she privately navigated being a new mother. When she decided to leave office to tackle other issues, it was her decision, not because she couldn’t have served longer. She never lost her belief in the essential goodness of people, even as dark bitterness spreads across the globe. As she wrote in her memoir, “…There’s an inverse feature to seeing the world at its most brutal, because those are the moments that show people at their most humane. …It was possible for people to galvanize behind their collective humanity.” After leaving politics, she established the Field Fellowship for empathetic leadership, working on climate issues and eliminating terrorist content online. She is a model of hard working kindness.

Change can be a vast improvement. Hopefully, the NO KINGS march will turn out to be a first step of Americans demonstrating universal empathy from their collective humanity to redesign a better democracy, our hope for our future. If not, it’s coming.