This Is Our Watch

Dear Brave Reader,

I’ve been meaning to write this, and in hindsight I think it was a good thing that I left a little space after the death of Alex Pretti. The more that comes out about him, the more heartbreaking it is. He sounds like he was a real protector. A genuinely good person. What a senseless loss. What a tragedy.

I was texting with one of my oldest friends about it, and she sent me a poem by John Berryman — Dream Song 32: “And where, friend Quo, lay you hiding” — which I’ve included below. It is not a simple poem. It is evocative and open to interpretation. But in the context of our conversation, these times, what we are witnessing, it feels painfully apt.

The poem seems to ask questions like: Where is our missing conscience? Where are the allies who should be here but are not? It speaks to a deliberate silence — and to the consequences of that silence. For me, it suggests something many of us are waking up to: that the people meant to be guarding a precious country — a democracy — have quietly stepped back. And there is a cost to that retreat.

I’ve been listening to some very smart people speak to this, especially in the aftermath of Alex Pretti’s death and the administration’s blatant, disrespectful lies about him — lies we could see with our very own eyes were not true. The anger and frustration that followed were palpable. And the question that kept rising was simple: Where are our leaders?

Where are the elected officials who are supposed to be working for every American — blue or red, Black, brown or white? Where is their outrage? Where is their truth?

We desperately need truth in a time of such shameless, self-serving lies. Truth actually calms the nervous system. And yet the silence from so many elected officials is deafening. We may see flickers of response now and then, but it often feels as though they are waiting — gauging the pulse of the people first, watching to see if this will be the tipping point before they speak.

There is a troubling lack of courage among too many representatives. Very few seem willing to go it alone and speak what they know to be true. Among Republican representatives especially, it is appalling how fearful many appear to be of saying anything that does not align with their leader. Some are simply lying outright — repeating disproven claims without even bothering to look at the evidence. At the very least, look at the videos. Do us that basic service.

Too many are still politicking instead of rising to the moment. This is not a moment for politics. It is a moment that calls for leadership, courage, truth, and integrity. Perhaps they’ve forgotten that these are not optional qualities when you represent the people.

Another thing that has been disturbing me is how often I still hear people say, “I just don’t want to know,” or “I can’t deal.” I work partly in a healing space, so I understand the importance of not pushing people beyond their capacity. We are all different. What may be manageable for me may not be for someone else. And we all bring different gifts — I bring writing and ideas. Others will, I hope, bring what they can, when they can.

But lately I find myself wondering: when someone says “I can’t deal,” is that always true? Or is it sometimes an excuse? A way of stepping away at the worst possible moment?

I don’t think calling people out is helpful. But I do think it’s worth asking the question - what are you doing? What do you think? I was at a dinner table recently and spoke openly about my politics and what I think. The woman next to me said she felt relieved — it had been so long since anyone talked about these things out loud. To me, it feels like we’re all trying to avoid the elephant in the room when we don’t mention what’s happening in Minnesota, or in Davos. And despite the horror unfolding elsewhere in the world, the most difficult and dangerous conversation of all still seems to be Gaza. That’s when voices lower and people speak in hushed tones - if at all.

What does that tell us? Maybe it should be discussed more - because, after all, it is a Genocide.

There is a name for this kind of collective retreat from responsibility. Hannah Arendt, the Jewish political theorist, called it the banality of evil — the idea that great evil is often carried out not by monsters, but by ordinary people who stop thinking morally. Not people driven by hatred or cruelty, but by people who want to keep their heads down, follow the rules, obey authority, and avoid discomfort.

Arendt arrived at this idea while observing the trial of Nazi official Adolf Eichmann. Eichmann helped organize the logistics of the Holocaust — not as a general or a camp guard, but as an administrator behind the scenes. He coordinated train schedules, ensured quotas were met, and kept the machinery running. At his trial, he did not appear monstrous. He appeared disturbingly ordinary. He insisted he was “just following orders” and claimed he felt no personal hatred.

Arendt concluded from this that monstrous crimes are often committed by ordinary, career-minded people. Evil does not necessarily arise from hatred, but from thoughtlessness — or what I might also call carelessness.

We are not in a time of moderation, unfortunately. And while I believe deeply in taking care of yourself, I say that so that you — me — we — can stay in the fight. Because that is what this moment requires.

Bring your best tools and put them to use. What is at stake is democracy. Lives are at stake as we have seen. And not to put to fine a point on it but…children are being taken.

Do not listen to anyone who tells you words don’t matter — they do. That is why theirs are so manipulative and dehumanizing. Do not listen to anyone who says marching is a waste of time. Uniting together — speaking and demanding together — is never a waste of time. That is how organizing begins. It shows strength in numbers. It makes those in power nervous. It makes a statement. And it lets others, who may be afraid, know they are not alone - it makes them brave too.

Use your money selectively — it is power, and you have it.

This is happening on our watch. Like it or not, we are in this moment. And even if it is hard, you can meet it. We can do hard things.

Ask yourself questions like:
Can I live with myself if I do this?

Dream Song 32

And where, friend Quo, lay you hiding
across malignant half my years or so?
One evil faery
it was workt night, with amoroso pleasing
menace, the panes shake
where Lie-by-the-fire is waiting for his cream.

A tiger by a torrent in rain, wind,
narrows fiend’s eyes for grief
in an old ink-on-silk,
reminding me of Delphi, and,
friend Quo, once was safe
imagination as sweet milk.

Let all the flowers wither like a party.
And now you have abandoned
own your young & old, the oldest, people
to a solitudinem of mournful communes,
mournful communes.
Status, Status, come home.

— John Berryman

Much love,

Wendy