No greater proof of this axiom exists than the anemic liberalism of the American Democrat. How can we not despair when we witness again and again his preference for the shameless status quo? Are we to accept his vapid paternalism and so set aside our dignity? It is easy to see that the Democrat is bereft of conscience; he cannot defend the integrity of the body politic. He claims to speak for us, while he mutes our voice and courts tyrants. It is no surprise that he does not inspire faith or tenacity. After all, how can he advance that which he does not possess himself? The fatal paradox of the Democrat lies in his instinct to claim our truths while rejecting the need for resolution. He operates on axioms that contradict his own inclinations; he proclaims that “all men are created equal,” yet barters away our rights and health in the name of pragmatism. It seems clear: the paternalism of the Democrat is as much a blight on our body politic as the delirious ramblings of his Republican compatriot.

By what authority does the Democrat claim the right to our voice? Simply put, he sees himself as the guardian of good order. He imagines himself to possess uniquely good judgement. And for him this is a solemn burden. Change, he insists, will happen in its own time and in the proper increments. But he goes further, for in his mind any change that cannot be deferred cannot be justified. From his high seat, he cannot understand urgency, for he himself has never felt it. He fears vitality because it lays bare his banal complicities. See how he debases himself and seeks friendship with the tyrant! How he plays apologist for the same barbaric agenda! The terror of this world is the product of this unholy collaboration.

Is it any surprise, then, that his laws and processes are chiefly designed to protect thieves and petty tyrants; that he is hostile to the protestor and the activist? The Democrat’s sickness is not simply rank hubris, for he has misused his platform—our voices—with knowing malice. He cheers himself for victories in which he played no part. He claims to be obliged to us but lays us low with his derision, for he believes only in his good judgement. It is not enough for him to demur; he must undermine and throw derision upon any who would contradict his wisdom. The progressive, the socialist, and even the other liberals know his righteous indignation. It could not be clearer that his cause is not our cause. The Democrat, through word and deed, insists that we will be deserving of his limited beneficence only when we accede to his erudite judgements. We must accept his wisdom of stasis.

Even with the best intentions, his limited language cannot speak to the pain and passion of a lived experience. His voice is dried up; his actions are the blind groping of a fool seeking power. His philosophy cannot manifest compassion because, beneath his saccharine smile, is an insidious ideology. In the end the best the Democrat can muster is limited and contingent beneficence. What has come of it? Our families have been inspired into the arms of tyrants and turned against us; our mothers, daughters, and sisters stripped of essential rights. Our friends, who the Democrat claims to protect, are having their very identities abolished. These and other tragedies are the Democrat’s legacy. He would have us believe that these are our failures, and so he steals our voice to advocate for his own petty self-interest.

We must now deny the Democrat the use of our voice. We can no longer afford his self-aggrandizement. It is not in our nature to allow cowards and misanthropes to barter away our dignity, health, and identities so that another might feel more secure in righteousness. We owe the Democrat nothing. After all, our voices were never his to take in the first place. We must no longer ask for change. The time has come to shout down this rotted system. The Democrat is a tool of tyrants. He has not only betrayed our trust, but he has denied our right to dignity. It falls to us to fill the streets and send a single message to the cowards who permit tyrants in the name of good order:

It is enough.

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I must say it clearly, these people are despicable. It is not simply that they do not care: they have contempt.

And now it falls to us to hold the line. We are the ones who have to say, “this far and no further.” It’s not meant to be easy.

We do have the past. We know the fight, and we know the stakes. With or without the advantage, surrender has never been an option. But this is not simply a fight against the tyrant and the capitalist. Our resistance is productive, for we fight for our friends, our families—and our dignity. The security of these most basic rights must not be infringed upon. If there is anything sacrosanct in this world, anything utterly non-negotiable, it is our right to prosper and to witness the prosperity of others.

But prosperity for one must not be bought with the dignity of another. We do not begrudge a friend for their success. I feel comfortable saying most of us are enriched when we see a friend achieve, even when they surpass our own successes. But every so often a friend succeeds and becomes insufferable. Very, very few of us, in fact, have not been that friend for a time.

Yet we can no longer overlook and excuse their abuses. Only in the unhealthiest of relationships do we allow our friends to become malignant and despicable. Our present moment is no different. I propose that our present moment is not metaphorically similar, but it is fully identical. However horrific his actions, no matter how dangerous he is, the tyrant is no more and no less, than we and our friends in different skin. And just as our friends’ misbehavior compels us to mitigate the harm they would do, our response today must reflect the boundaries of acceptable behavior. Keeping these boundaries is difficult—but they must be kept.

None of us know what our specific burdens will be. History gives us hints, and we may yet exceed history. In many ways, our objective is simple: we only need to say, “no we won’t” once more than they say, “yes you will.” As I said, it is not in our nature to acquiesce, for the price of acquiescence is far steeper than we are willing to pay. If our wayward friends do not hear our demands, we must make them hear. If they do not listen, we will make them. We must no longer sacrifice dignity and health for the hollow pride mere men. We have paid for their success for too long.

It is enough.

The corporate executive's lonely death and his friends' ambivalence only demonstrate the already apparent: the system is transactional to an absurd degree. Nobody really believes in anything. There are few people willing to take tyranny on faith. Even the people who buy in, on some level, know they're being lied to, or are simply unequipped to rationally contend with the real world.

The latter group only presents a political complication, for the psychologically dispossessed do not represent political agents; they represent humanity pushed to some extreme. These are the most deserving of compassion. To put it plainly, to varying degrees, those who struggle to identify reality struggle with a pathology.

The first group, however, can be negotiated with to differing degrees with various methods. For instance, there are the purely transactional: people so absorbed in accumulation they barely acknowledge their own humanity. Their friends step over their convulsing body for a convulsing body is no longer a useful body.

But we shouldn't see all who buy in through the same lens. Not all those who become complicit in the atrocities of a system are voluntary nihilists. We owe these people this grace: they believe out of fear. It is on us to break through that fear. Not to assuage it, but rather to force the confrontation that turns terror into mere fear. It is only by breaking through the fears of our peers and loved ones and friends that we can mainstream the revolution.

The world that we imagine is so dependent on compassion. The world we want to create is, indeed, built on that foundation. But to have compassion does not mean we acquiesce, it does not mean that we sacrifice our right to dignity—for these would be morally indefensible positions.

We have a moment and we must seize it. But this is not a moment of sudden breakthrough, this is a moment in which we can select from our possible futures. We must show those to whom we have obligations that they are worthy of dignity and that a world built upon that principle is possible. And we must show them the visceral truth: dignity is impossible in the current paradigm, for this paradigm demands that you step over the bodies of your friends so that you can get to work on time.