If you’ve been with me for a while, you’ll know that I rarely write about politics.
This is intentional. For my own mental health, I set aside specific times to read the news, and I don’t want to surprise you, dear reader, with political material if that’s not what you’re here for.
However.
For today’s essay, if I am to live in accordance with my values, I must choose differently.
If you’re not in the headspace to read about politics, now is your time to bow out, my friend, and I’ll see you for the April Full Moon essay when we’ll return to our usual magical programming. Take care of yourself.
Still with me?
I’m about to be very, very candid about my perspective on the current political situation. If you hang around to the end, I’ll also share how art and other soul-led practices are an integral part of resistance.
Let’s start with a quote from Jung, speaking on the dangers of getting swept up in a mass psychology that obliterates selfhood:
“The mass crushes out the insight and reflection that are still possible with the individual, and this necessarily leads to doctrinaire and authoritarian tyranny.”
“The Undiscovered Self” CW 10, para 489
Jung wrote this in the spring of 1956 when millions of people were still displaced by World War II, and Europe was slowly being rebuilt. The recent development of the hydrogen bomb contributed to an escalating fear that humanity could very well destroy itself with the press of a button.
He continues:
“Where there are many, there is security; what the many believe must of course be true; what the many want must be worth striving for…All the thinking and looking after are done from the top; to all questions there is an answer, and for all needs the necessary provisions are made.
“The infantile dream state of the mass man is so unrealistic that he never thinks to ask who is paying for this paradise.
“The balancing of accounts is left to a higher political or social authority, which welcomes the task, for its power is thereby increased; and the more power it has, the weaker and more helpless the individual becomes.
“Whenever social conditions of this type develop on a large scale, the road to tyranny lies open.” (para. 538-9)
This aversion to complexity isn’t just political—it’s psychological.
When we’re overwhelmed, our brains crave simplicity, even at the cost of truth.
A passage from Anne Applebaum’s The Twilight of Democracy: The Seductive Lure of Authoritarianism, references the research of Karen Stenner:
“[Karen] reminded me that the “authoritarian predisposition” she has identified is not exactly the same thing as close-mindedness. It is better described as simple-mindedness: people are often attracted to authoritarian ideas because they are bothered by complexity. They dislike divisiveness. They prefer unity.
“A sudden onslaught of diversity—diversity of opinions, diversity of experiences—therefore makes them angry. They seek solutions in new political language that makes them feel safer and more secure.” (p. 106)
And you know what? I can empathize!
How wonderful would it be if there was a simple answer to all the ills of the world? Or even, just in my own life, if there was a straightforward process—follow these steps, and I’m guaranteed financial stability as a writer.
When you add in trauma—personal, generational, societal—this increases the likelihood of psychological splitting, a defense mechanism that divides the world into good and evil, friend and foe.
Throughout his entire body of work, Jung warns of the dangers of rejecting the shadow within. These disowned aspects are unconsciously projected outward, creating scapegoats and enemies.
Authoritarian regimes exploit this tendency by presenting the world as a mythic battle between absolute good and absolute evil, offering their followers a simplistic sense of moral clarity. These messages tap into potent archetypal currents that flood the ego with a sense of righteousness and divine purpose.
We can ask ourselves:
Am I grasping at certainties because they are true, or because uncertainty is scary?
Who benefits when I choose to see things in black and white?
Who profits when I doom-scroll content designed to provoke rage, keeping me in a state of fear and helplessness?
The work of maintaining democracy, and our own psychological wholeness, requires the courage to embrace complexity, even when—especially when—it’s deeply uncomfortable.
A handy tool for obscuring unwanted complexity?
Emotionally driven slogans that evoke nostalgia, fear of the “enemy,” or national pride, yet are deliberately vague in their promises and definitions.
They frequently rally for a return to a “golden age”—but golden according to whom? And how will this be achieved, exactly? This ambiguity allows everyone to project their own desires onto the agenda (while giving those in power plenty of leeway).
These potent psychological projections generate a fervent loyalty that needn’t bother with facts or personal responsibility.
‘One People, One Empire, One Leader’ (Adolf Hitler)
‘Believe, Obey, Fight’ (Benito Mussolini)
‘Make Spain Great Again’ (Santiago Abascal)
‘Make Israel Great Again’ (Israeli far-right)
‘Make America Great Again’ (Donald Trump)
Tyranny cannot work without the willing participation of those who surrender their selfhood to the masses in exchange for the promise of “security.”
If authoritarianism thrives on emotional slogans, it also depends on another key ingredient: our silence.
History is densely populated with people who thought they could ‘wait it out.’ In 1930s Germany, many believed Hitler’s government would moderate over time. In 1970s Chile, there were those who assumed Pinochet’s rule would be temporary. There are many, many more examples.
Recognizing the threat is not enough.
Hoping that someone else will take care of it is not enough.
A common refrain is, “Gah, I know—Trump is awful. We just gotta make it through the next four years.”
“Get out and vote! Just this time. You won’t have to do it anymore. Four more years. You know what? It’ll be fixed! It’ll be fine! You won’t have to vote anymore, my beautiful Christians.”
Donald Trump, July 2024: Turning Point Action conference
During an April 2019 White House event, Trump “joked” that he would remain president “at least for 10 or 14 years.”
Authoritarianism often disguises itself as humor. At least in the beginning.
Jocular remarks are a convenient shield, softening the blow of the absurd until it no longer feels absurd at all.
Tyranny cannot win without our help.
What can you do?
Subscribe to a political action newsletter, such as Chop Wood, Carry Water. Commit to one action every week. Enlist a friend to be your accountability buddy.
Pick something from this list of actions to do this week.
Bother your representatives. If you’re an introvert like me, write a script, call after hours, and leave a voicemail. (Remember to include your full name and zip code.)
Join local protests and find other ways to get involved on Indivisible.
It can feel overwhelming, I know. But there is a way forward, and superhuman effort isn’t required to make a real difference. What is required is something deeply human: creativity, connection, and the refusal to let fear dictate our lives…
The Point of It All
This month, I finally sat down to write a short story, a companion to my romance novel. I’d spent the previous month focused entirely on marketing, and let me tell you: I was not expecting the effect that two hours of writing would have on my soul.
As I stood up from my desk, my chest was warm, my body buzzing with energy. This was not the bitter, defeated energy that I often feel after reading the news.
This was the energy to resist. A mere two hours of making art, and I was reminded of all there is to fight for.
What makes you feel alive? My friend, carve out time for that.
Because the fight for democracy is not only waged in protests, in courtrooms, and at the ballot box—it is waged in the very act of refusing to let fear and despair define us.
It is waged in creativity, in joy, in forging connections that authoritarianism seeks to sever.
We need your spirited, creative energy. We need your voice. We need your art.
We need you, fully present and engaged, not merely enduring these times, but shaping them.
Each of us must find our sweet spot—the balance between the burnout of “I must do it all” and the passivity of “someone else/some institution will take care of it.”
Picture yourself five years from now. What will you wish you had done today?
Will you be relieved that you took action, that you refused to be paralyzed by fear and overwhelm?
Or will you be looking back, wondering if this moment—the one you’re living in right now—was the last real chance to act?
The time is now.
We are in this together.
♥️ Melissa
