Say nothing

It’s been hard to know what to write lately. There’s so much to say, I have waves of fury and sorrow and hopelessness cresting over me at all times - from restless displaced energy to resignation to exhaustion, sometimes in the span of a day. A morning. An hour.

And yet it’s unclear how much is safe to voice. The threat lurking since late January became very real in late April when rumored Executive Orders that would have directly targeted the work I do nearly materialized. And then just as suddenly did not - a hallmark of the confusion the administration is intentionally sowing. But we were forced into action, taking down our website and even more extreme measures I’m not sure I can or should describe here. All of which made me question how much it’s ok to say here. 

I’m not kidding myself: on a good day, this blog has a readership of about 10, most of whom I’m related to by blood or marriage. But there are task forces charges with finding people like me and linking them back to organizations, and then targeting the organizations for what is said or written or even just liked. I’m not on social media anymore, apart from a halfhearted LinkedIn presence, but even that is enough of a trail back to this site, to this blog. Which has been unapologetic thus far in its criticism.

I tell myself I won’t censor my views or my writing. And still, the very slim possibility that I might expose or endanger my colleagues, their work and most importantly the movements we support, is enough to give me pause. And so I have written nothing. Or rather, left a number of unfinished, unpublished Google doc diatribes that you’ll likely never see.

And yes, this is infuriating because it is precisely the intent of an authoritarian regime - silence and isolate. Quell dissent through fear and confusion. Leave just enough doubt.

Although, no. There is more than enough reason to doubt. The very science that underpins climate change legislation and regulation is now under threat. I have friends and colleagues who are fleeing the US as I write this. No uncertainty there.

Every day, another piece of the scaffold for human and environmental rights is removed or undermined. Each of those beams and supports were decades in the making, the system as a whole took generations to build. And it is not without fault, of course it is not. But its wholesale undoing is, continues to be, breathtaking in its efficiency, decisiveness, and the relatively muted response it elicits.

So when I worry about my little corner of the blogosphere and how it might impact the work, the very real and vital work I play a small role in supporting. It’s enough to bring this whole exercise into question.

At a minimum I’ve decided to cease the quarterly emails drawing attention to the space, which served as a reminder and a connector. They now feel too risky. And that makes me feel sad and defeated and like a terrible activist. I enjoyed having a reason to reach out to you all. And I so enjoyed your responses and updates in return. But July marked the first time in 5 years I didn’t send one out.

But that’s where we are right now. Fear. Isolation. Chaos with a wink. And the only ideology one of home-grown American capitalist misogynist narcissism.