May I just say that it was a day to remember?

May I just say that it was a day to remember?

In Washington DC, the President spent $40-$45 million throwing himself a birthday party to coincide with the 250th birthday of the US Army. I saw no party hats or birthday cakes. Just one expensive parade.

At the same time, parades of protest break out across America, all distinctly non-military in character. As The Huffington Post (June 14, 2025) reported, Trump’s parade was “dwarfed by the millions who showed up at roughly 2,000 anti-Trump ‘No Kings’ protests in cities and towns all over the country.”

Staging a military parade is, of course, a favorite tactic of dictators and despots. While North Koreans starve, their well-fed Chairman puts on a display of military hardware. Putin stages military parades as a regular feature of his “see how big I am” campaigns. Now comes Trump to show off weapons of war. According to Malcolm Ferguson in The New Republic (June 15, 2025), “Three dozen horses, 28 Abrams tanks, 6,700 soldiers, and millions of taxpayer dollars later, Donald Trump’s military birthday parade was still a flop at best,” a “pathetic event for a pathetic president.”

 

The biggest story from last Saturday – even if most major US media made Trump’s parade their lead story – was the irrepressible roar rising from some 4-5 million Americans marching in solidarity against Trump and his actions. Rallying under the banner “No Kings,” we marched to express our opposition to Trump and the damage he is doing to America and to the world – from decimating critical medical research to hunting down hardworking immigrants, from rolling back environmental protections to the deadly abandonment of people with HIV/AIDS.

The ”No Kings” protests warmed my heart and inspired me to feel, for the first time in recent memory, genuine hope. Trump’s parade isn’t what America is like: the people’s protests in cities large and small is the “real America.” Name a religion or color, ethnic tradition or preferred gender, and last Saturday it was on display from Boise, Idaho to New York City. Unrelated to the protests were tragic assassinations in Minnesota and the drums of war in Israel and Iran; I saw and heard those too. Even so, my enduring memory of that one remarkable day is that five million (or so) Americans stood up to a would-be king and said “No!”

Passing marchers were handed free water by merchants and neighbors. Speeches were brief. The crowds knew why they had assembled. “No Kings” meant just that: We’ve been guaranteed a president, not a tyrant. Millions of my fellow citizens demonstrated the courage to resist intimidation and invited me to join them. Together, we felt pride. We sang “God Bless America” as if we meant it.

Throughout my recently published book, Uneasy Silence, I urge each of us to stand up for the truth in whatever way suits us best. “I need to do what I can do,” I wrote, but “I’m not being asked to become a martyr.” Last Saturday, some 5 million Americans marched. They were people who teach, people who write, people who raise families, who grow crops, who produce art, who fight crime,  each demonstration “doing what I can do.”

I went to bed Saturday night remembering one of Dr. Martin Luther King Jr’s last speeches before he was killed. In that unmistakable voice and cadence, he rehearsed the Constitution’s promises.

All we say to America is, ‘Be true to what you said on paper.’ If I lived in China or even Russia, or any totalitarian country, maybe I could understand some of these illegal injunctions. Maybe I could understand the denial of certain basic First Amendment privileges, because they hadn’t committed themselves to that over there.

But somewhere I read of the freedom of assembly.

Somewhere I read of the freedom of speech.

Somewhere I read of the freedom of [the] press.

Somewhere I read that the greatness of America is the right to protest for right.

Somewhere last week I saw the soul of America. It poured into the streets, cheerful, honest, resisting calls to meanness and madness. It was accompanied not by threats but by songs. It was what I needed and have gratefully accepted: a day to remember, and to savor, hope.

May I just say we have some lessons to re-learn?

May I just say we have some lessons to re-learn?

We can begin with last Saturday evening’s CNN broadcast of a live Broadway production of George Clooney’s “Good Night, and Good Luck.” It retold the story of newsman Edward R. Murrow’s struggle with “the Junior Senator from Wisconsin,” Joseph McCarthy. In his witch hunting for communists in the government and elsewhere, McCarthy’s greatest skill was the art of intimidation.

Clooney’s production was based on a play written twenty years ago. Strange, because it felt as if it was written today. Truth was being twisted into lies. Fear was being promoted for political advantage. Those who dared speak out against McCarthy immediately tasted his wrath, his drive for revenge, his desire (and capacity) to destroy reputations, careers and lives.

Following the broadcast, former “CBS Evening News” anchor Scott Pelley was interviewed by Anderson Cooper. Among other things, Pelley offered this lesson from the era of McCarthy: “The most important thing is to have the courage to speak, to not let fear permeate the country so that everyone suddenly becomes silent. If you fall silent, the country is doomed.” I thought we had learned this lesson earlier, but perhaps not.

I live in Los Angeles where patriotic women and men have taken to the streets to protest the brutal tactics of ICE, the inhumane policies of Trump and the violent suppression that’s spreading across America. The protests are justified. Many protestors are models of courage.

But if Trump has proven any skill it’s the use of lies to throw a blanket over truth. So when cars are set aflame on the edge of the protests, were they burning as acts of protest or as staged photo ops to justify sending in troops? Who knows? What we know is that Trump has ordered in the National Guard and the Marines. And even before they arrived, he announced that they had put down the “rebellion” of “violent insurrectionists.” Really? The couple from Pasadena marching with two school-aged children are “insurrectionists”? Let’s learn now that we won’t find truth in a snake pit of lies.

In my newly published book, Uneasy Silence, I remember that after the 2020 election, Trump

went on the attack. He picked on innocent people with false claims intended to smear their integrity and crush their lives. In Georgia, election workers Shaye Moss and her mother, Ruby Freeman, had done their jobs with distinction and gratitude. For their service to the Atlanta community, and owing to their unwillingness to bend either the rules or the truth, they were pilloried by right-wing liars led by Trump who said Ms. Moss was ‘a professional vote-scammer and hustler,’ falsely claiming that the mother-daughter duo had cheated to help Democrats.

Giving testimony to the US Congress some months after the 2020 election, Ms. Freeman said through tears, ’I’ve lost my name, I’ve lost my reputation, I’ve lost my sense of security.’ And then she added the haunting question, ‘Do you know what it feels like to have the president of the United States target you?”

The lesson Scott Pelley drew from Clooney’s retelling of the McCarthy-Murrow drama is that we need to speak the truth courageously. Seems right.

Shaye Moss and Ruby Freeman were vindicated in the court of law. But their suffering couches the lesson I draw from their experience, namely, that power brokers care much less about the truth than about promoting their own lies. If someone objects, they are bludgeoned with falsehoods.

Woven throughout these lessons is the need to break any uneasy silence. We can seek justice and honor through marches on the street, by way of words on pages, or sermons from the pulpit. We can demonstrate a hundred actions that add up to justice for the poor and protection of the innocent.

But we must never, never, never cower before the bullies. By whatever strategy best suits your gifts or mine – marching in the streets, writing letters to your Congressperson, voting – we need to heed the words of the late Congressman John Lewis: “Speak up, speak out, get in the way. Get in good trouble, necessary trouble, and help redeem the soul of America.”

Amen, John. Amen.