Congress, the courts, or a grand gesture will not save us. We win by refusing to lose. Every single day. The following is not my work. It was published at Notes From the Circus by Mike Brock and released into the public domain. So I'm sharing it here, because it's important.
I’m here to tell you what should already be abundantly clear: that simple truths, all around us, reveal things that are blatantly obvious. That we are now ruled by liars, cheaters, and men with an unbounded appetite for power. And this leaves us with only one path forward: revolution. Not a violent one. Not with guns. A cognitive revolution.
This revolution begins with a fundamental shift in understanding. Democracy doesn't die in a single dramatic confrontation. It erodes every minute of every day, through thousands of small surrenders to convenience, to fear, to the path of least resistance. And so it must be defended the same way—every minute of every day, through countless small acts of moral courage that rarely make headlines or history books.
The thing about moral choices is that they don't arrive on a schedule. They don't announce themselves with trumpets, or come with convenient warning labels. They happen every minute of every day, in moments so small we barely notice them passing.
That quick decision to speak or stay silent when you hear a lie. The instant calculation of whether to stand with someone being mistreated or look away to avoid complications. The split-second choice between comfortable complicity and uncomfortable truth. These aren't dramatic crossroads with flashing signs—they're the quiet, constant texture of a life lived.
We love to imagine ourselves at the barricades, facing down tanks with flowers. We romanticize the grand gesture, the defining moment when heroes are made. But democracy doesn't die in a single dramatic confrontation. It erodes every minute of every day, through thousands of small surrenders to convenience, to fear, to the path of least resistance.
And so it must be defended the same way—every minute of every day, through countless small acts of moral courage that rarely make headlines or history books.
This is why asking "what should we do?" misses the point entirely. There is no single action, no perfect strategy, no one-time gesture that discharges your moral responsibility. The question isn't what you should do—it's who you should be. Every minute of every day.
Be the person who names the lie, even when everyone else plays along. Be the one who remembers what happened yesterday, even as others accept today's contradictory reality. Be the colleague who refuses to participate in the ritual humiliation of others. Be the friend who doesn't laugh at cruelty disguised as humor. Be the citizen who treats democratic norms as sacred, not optional.
These choices don't require special talents or privileged positions. They don't demand heroic sacrifice or martyrdom. They simply require the decision to remain morally awake when everything around you encourages sleep. To maintain your full humanity when systems push you toward becoming a fraction of yourself.
Every minute of every day, you have opportunities to practice standing firm. Each small choice builds the moral muscle memory you'll need for bigger challenges ahead. Each moment you choose courage over comfort, clarity over confusion, community over isolation—you're not just preserving your own humanity. You're keeping something precious alive in our collective existence.
The autocrats understand this reality better than most democrats. They know that control doesn't come primarily through dramatic shows of force, but through teaching citizens to police themselves—to make the thousand daily calculations that slowly transform a free person into a subject. They don't need to watch you constantly if they can get you to watch yourself, questioning every impulse toward authentic expression or moral solidarity.
Our resistance must be equally granular, equally present in the everyday. Not just in elections or protests—though these matter enormously—but in the minute-by-minute choices to remain fully human, fully connected, fully awake.
This doesn't mean living in a constant state of high alert or performing radical acts at every turn. It means developing habits of truth and solidarity that become as natural as breathing. It means creating communities where moral courage is expected rather than exceptional. It means practicing the small disciplines of democracy until they become muscle memory.
Every minute of every day, remember what's real. Remember that two plus two equals four, regardless of who claims otherwise. Remember that human dignity isn't negotiable. Remember that your conscience doesn't need external permission to speak.
Every minute of every day, choose connection over isolation. Reach toward those who share your commitment to truth, even when it's uncomfortable. Build networks of mutual support that make courage possible not just for the exceptionally brave, but for ordinary people facing extraordinary challenges.
Every minute of every day, reclaim joy from those who would reduce existence to power and fear. Autocracy wants you exhausted, isolated, and grim. Find delight in small beauties, in genuine human connection, in the deep satisfaction of living according to your values. This isn't frivolous—it's revolutionary.
When I say every minute of every day, I'm not suggesting a life of grim, performative virtue or constant confrontation. I'm describing a way of being fully present in your own life, making choices aligned with your deepest values rather than drifting with currents of fear or convenience.
This is how freedom persists in unfree times. Not through grand gestures alone, but through the accumulated weight of countless small choices to remain human, to stay awake, to act as if your individual decisions matter—because they do. Every minute of every day.
This is our theory of change.
Licensing & Attribution Notice
This declaration is not copyrighted. It is released freely into the public domain, without restriction or requirement for attribution, though I am its author. It is not a personal work but a prosecutorial document, presented on behalf of The People—those who would undersign the basic liberal values it embodies. Let it be used, shared, and invoked wherever the defense of reason, democracy, and human dignity demands it.
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