Ask for An Answer: What Are We Going to Do Now?

I’m writing this from a place I didn’t expect.

A few weeks ago, Joe and I were on a trip—one of those rare windows where you’re trying to breathe, eat something fabulous, and pretend the world can’t reach you for five minutes.

And then my phone lit up.

Headline after headline. Escalation, threats, cruelty disguised as strength, chaos posing as leadership.

That sick feeling hit again.

The one that says: this isn’t noise anymore. This is pattern.

I’ve tried to be measured. I don’t like dramatic language. I don’t love panic. I prefer facts, precision, and calling things what they actually are.

But after reading Jonathan Rauch’s recent essay in The Atlantic—“Yes, It’s Fascism”—I’m done tiptoeing. (The Atlantic)

Not because I like that word.

Because I don’t.

Because it’s a word that should stop the room. And if it doesn’t, that’s part of the problem.

Rauch’s core point is simple: fascism isn’t one act or one headline. It’s a constellation of behaviors—and when you zoom out, the shape becomes hard to deny.

So let me put this in leadership terms:

When someone shows you a pattern, don’t argue with the pattern.

Rauch lays out the mechanics: the demolition of norms, glorification of violence, “might makes right,” politicized law enforcement, dehumanization, attacks on elections, attacks on the press, domination as a governing philosophy.

You don’t have to agree with every sentence of his argument to see the truth in the arc.

And you definitely don’t have to be a historian to understand what happens when a country starts rewarding cruelty.

This is what it looks like when bullying becomes policy.

I can already hear the pushback:

“Isn’t ‘fascism’ too extreme?”
“Doesn’t that word just divide people?”
“Can’t we just focus on issues?”

Here’s the leadership truth:

If you can’t name a crisis, you can’t manage it.

You don’t fix a culture problem by calling it “a vibes thing.”
You fix it by naming it, owning it, and intervening.

Rauch even addresses this directly: if liberal democracy is going to defend itself, it has to recognize what it’s dealing with, and recognition starts with naming. (The Atlantic)

Authoritarianism doesn’t win because it has better ideas.
It wins because it wears people down.

It wins by:

The point isn’t just to dominate institutions.
It’s to dominate your nervous system.

And if you’re thinking, “I’m tired,” you’re not alone. That’s the design.

A lot of good people are hiding behind a familiar sentence:

“I’m not political.”

I get it. People are busy. People are burnt out. People want peace.

But here’s the hard truth:

Authoritarianism loves ‘I’m not political.’

Because “not political” becomes “not paying attention.”
And “not paying attention” becomes “I guess this is normal now.”

That’s what historian Timothy Snyder calls “obeying in advance.” The quiet pre-complying. The shrinking before you’re forced to shrink. (Timothy Snyder)

You don’t have to cheer it on.
You just have to accept it quietly.

That’s how normalization spreads.

One of Rauch’s most important points is also the most clarifying:

A strongman leader does not automatically equal a strongman state.

Institutions still exist. Courts still exist. Journalism still exists. The Constitution still exists.

But this is a hybrid moment: a democracy under pressure from a movement willing to break norms and weaponize power.

So here’s the question that matters:

What kind of citizen are you going to be in a hybrid moment?

This is the part where I go full Jim.

When the moment feels impossible, we don’t collapse.
We don’t catastrophize.
We don’t pretend it’s fine.

We Ask for An Answer.

Not a perfect answer.
A usable one.

Here are mine:

1) Do not obey in advance.
Don’t pre-comply. Don’t self-censor. Don’t get smaller before you’re told to.

2) Defend institutions like your life depends on it.
Courts. Schools. Universities. Libraries. Journalism. Voting rights. Peaceful transfer of power.
These aren’t “systems.” They’re the scaffolding of a free society.

3) Refuse to let cruelty become normal.
Rauch is blunt about “bully-worship”—the idea that domination is the only truth that matters. (The Atlantic)
Your job is to keep your standards intact anyway.

4) Protect the people targeted first.
Dehumanization always starts with “them.”
Immigrants. LGBTQ+ people. Protesters. Journalists. Educators.
If you’re not in the first wave, you still have a responsibility to speak.

5) Don’t confuse loudness with leadership.
A tantrum isn’t strength.
A threat isn’t vision.
Cruelty isn’t competence.

6) Be steady about facts. Quiet about ego.
Support real journalism. Share sources. Correct misinformation without becoming what you hate.

7) Practice Radical Kindness like resistance training.
Kindness is not weakness.
Kindness is not compliance.
Kindness is not “go along to get along.”

Kindness is staying human when the culture is trying to make you cruel.

Rauch’s essay is upsetting, because it’s clarifying. (The Atlantic)

Sometimes the most responsible thing you can do is tell the truth out loud.

If we can’t name what we’re watching unfold, we can’t stop it.

So, yes, I am worried.

But I’m also clear.

We are not powerless.
We are not voiceless.
And we are not required to surrender our values because someone else surrendered theirs.

Ask for An Answer:

What does courage look like in your life this week?
What does citizenship look like in your choices?
What does integrity look like when it’s inconvenient?

Because history doesn’t just judge Presidents.

It judges the rest of us too.

— Jim

Acknowledgment: This essay was inspired by Jonathan Rauch’s “Yes, It’s Fascism” in The Atlantic (January 25, 2026). I strongly recommend reading it in full. (The Atlantic)