In another bit of the Great Litany that seems particularly apt at the moment, supplicants plead with the Divine, "so to rule the hearts of thy servants, the President of the United States, and all others in authority, that they may do justice, and love mercy, and walk in the ways of truth."
If only.
Flooding the Zone
The list of Trump's post-election actions is its own kind of litany -- not of benediction, of course, but of horror. Like the Great Litany, it, too, leaps from topic to topic. To name just a few:
- The nominations to positions of power of the manifestly unfit (remember Matt Gaetz, the ethically-challenged), or the frankly vicious (Kristi Noem, the puppy-killer), or indeed of candidates combining both qualities (Pete Hegseth, Tulsi Gabard).
- A spate of executive comments, orders, or presidential decrees displaying an imperial greed for territory that would have seemed like so many jokes just a few weeks ago. (Watch out, Panama, Canada, and Greenland!)
- The fulfillment of the Israeli fascist right-wing's dearest desire: a proposal to cleanse Gaza of its more than two million Palestinian inhabitants, in order to make way for the development of what Trump has labeled "a phenomenal location," where "some beautiful things can be done."
- First steps in keeping his vow to deport millions of immigrants living in the United States, including a Chicago Immigration and Customs Enforcement, or ICE, operation, which included an "embedded" Dr. Phil -- further proof, should we need it, that the strategy is to enforce the authority of any decree, no matter how bizarre.
- Elon Musk's seizure of access to the records of all federal employees and control of the Treasury Department's disbursement process
Any one of those actions would have been sufficient to fuel a whole news cycle on its own. But that's now inconceivable because before we, or the media, can focus on one Trump absurdity, another takes its place in the battle for our attention. To wit: in the last 15 minutes (while I was writing this), the Washington Post reported that Trump's Office of Management and Budget (OMB) has ordered a freeze on all federal grants, "including, but not limited to, financial assistance for foreign aid, nongovernmental organizations, DEI, woke gender ideology, and the green new deal." And now, in a head-snapping twist, the OMB seems to have rescinded the order -- for the moment.
The Cambridge Dictionary offers an additional definition of litany: "a long list spoken or given to someone, esp. to someone who has heard or seen it before or finds it boring." Taken together, this apparently endless flood of outrages reflects the infamous observation of Trump's advisor (and exoneree) Steve Bannon during his first administration: "The Democrats don't matter. The real opposition is the media. And the way to deal with them is to flood the zone with sh*t."
And indeed, the litany of Trump's autocratic actions has already flooded the zone with sh*t. The question is: How are we to navigate all that excrement? Can we do more than simply hope to stay afloat? Is there any way we can actually dam the floodtide? Or will we sigh and say we've seen it all before and find it boring?
Fools for Freedom
At least we can try to build that dam. A few weeks ago, I wrote about some national organizing we could join or support, efforts that are crucial because -- yes! -- we have to think big. But we also have to think small. I've been surprised by how many writers have responded to Trump's reelection by urging people to strengthen their own local connections with friends, neighbors, and family, while focusing on those among us who are most in need of protection from immediate attacks. In a way, that's exactly what the members of my group of lesbians have done for each other all these years. It's what the members of my own household of chosen family do for each other daily, when we leave gifts of food or books, when we plan together to protect immigrant friends at risk of being scooped up on the way to work.
All of that effort, big and small, must be sustained by hope. How do we keep hope alive once we've truly grasped the danger(s) we face?
I now ponder that question daily. This morning, one answer arrived in a newsletter by email, from a group called the Faithful Fools. The Fools live in San Francisco's Tenderloin district, where they accompany the other residents in their daily lives in a neglected and despised neighborhood. Being Foolish, they don't ask whether they can be of any use or recognize the puniness of their efforts compared to the edicts of a president who would be king. This morning's newsletter brought me these words:
"Plenty of people have asked the question, 'After all these years, what keeps you going?' And we say, 'Well, we keep going because we are Fools, of course.' This isn't to say that our work is ridiculous or without foundation. It's to say that we understand how uncertain the future is and we can't lose our way when the road gets rocky and tiresome"
"We aren't foolish enough to believe that hope alone carries the day or soothes the soul. No, we believe it's the other way around; we believe that actions driven by justice, solidarity, and compassion are what sustain hope. Small gusts of good will are acts driven by justice and compassion and solidarity, and they are what soothes our broken hearts."
In short, in the age of would-be King Donald Trump, we sustain our own hope by doing the small, essential things that sustain the hope of others.
Copyright 2025 Rebecca Gordon
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