The Mandate of Resistance: Why Democrats Must Hold the Line

The political instinct to seek a deal, to be the "adults in the room," is a deeply ingrained reflex for many in Washington. It is also a path to political irrelevance and a betrayal of the voters who just delivered a stark verdict.

In the wake of an electoral repudiation of Trumpism, the notion that Senate Democrats should now broker a swift and clean conclusion to the government shutdown is not moderation; it is myopia.

To back away from this fight would be to misunderstand the moment, the opponent, and the very nature of the power the electorate has just bestowed.

It is with a heavy heart and a fire in my belly that I write this. I have watched Senator Cory Booker’s political career for years, often hoping his stirring orations would translate into principled action. Yet, his recent refusal to endorse Zohran Mamdani for Mayor of New York City is not just a disappointment; it is a damning indictment of who he truly serves.

This is not an isolated incident. It is a pattern.

In the grand and often bewildering theater of American politics, a spectacle is unfolding within the Democratic Party that is less a unified march to the future and more a desperate tug-of-war over a cliff's edge.

On one side, a chorus of new voices, armed with blueprints for a radically different America, argues that the house is on fire and that polite requests for a garden hose are no longer sufficient. On the other, the seasoned architects of the existing structure insist that only careful, measured renovation can prevent the whole thing from collapsing, all while being acutely aware that the lumber and nails are paid for by those who live in its most comfortable wings.

This is not merely a policy dispute; it is a fundamental clash of realities —a battle for the very soul of a party caught between its donors and its destiny.

In the face of rising authoritarianism, racial scapegoating, corporate dominance, and unchecked militarism, Senator Cory Booker stood in the well of the Senate for 25 hours and said… nothing that mattered.

Yes, 25 hours. A full day of airtime. And what did we get? Not the roar of truth. Not the sharp call of moral clarity. Not the kind of resistance this moment demands. What we got instead was the hollow theater of ambition masquerading as courage.

Cory Booker called for resistance — but to what, exactly? And how? He named no strategies. He invoked no movement. He summoned no organizers, named no partners on the ground, endorsed no demands. The man called for defiance but left us with nothing but a drip-feed of donation links and social media applause.

Meanwhile, as Booker’s voice filled the chamber with carefully crafted vagaries, the world was screaming.

While Booker was pontificating, children were dying in Gaza under the weight of U.S.-made bombs, funded by U.S. tax dollars, supported by U.S. complicity. Not a word from Booker. Not one. Tens of thousands dead, a generation lost, and he could not summon the courage to name it. What is the value of your voice, Senator, if it falls silent in the face of genocide?

And here, in our own country, the Republican machine has launched a coordinated campaign to erase trans lives from public existence — through healthcare bans, school book bans, and dangerous rhetoric that gets people hurt, that gets people killed. Did Booker bring this up? Did he honor the pain, the fear, the bravery of the trans community? No. He didn’t whisper a syllable.

Instead, we were told to admire his stamina.

Instead, we watched as Senate Minority Leader Chuck Schumer stood up not to speak truth to power, but to praise Booker’s performance like a proud stage manager complimenting his lead actor. “Do you know how proud America is of you?” he said.

Well, not all of us are proud. Some of us are angry. Some of us are grieving. Some of us are tired of being lied to, ignored, and insulted by men who trade moral clarity for media attention.

Because while Booker was standing in front of cameras, Chuck Schumer was quietly doing something else: casting the vote that gave Republicans the victory they needed. That stopgap budget measure, rushed through to avert a shutdown, was a surrender — a legitimization of Trump’s agenda. And the so-called resistance was too busy clapping for a speech to notice the trap door opening beneath their feet.

The truth is, this was not a stand of principle — it was a prelude to a campaign announcement. Cory Booker’s silence on the things that matter wasn’t accidental. It was strategic. He wants the headlines without the heat. The spotlight without the responsibility. He wants to be the guy who sounds like he cares — just enough to make a run for president in 2028.

And the establishment? They’re fine with it. Because Schumer has no intention of stepping aside, and no Democratic senator is rising to challenge him — not because they can’t, but because they’re too afraid. And while the public cries out for leadership with backbone, all we get is a parade of empty suits playing musical chairs.

Meanwhile, Schumer says it’s time to start campaigning. To go to communities and talk about the problems people face. But what are they going to say? "We saw it happening. We had power. And we did nothing"?

If Cory Booker wants to stand for 25 hours, he should stand for something. If he wants to lead, he should first learn how to listen — to Gaza, to trans Americans, to working people watching their rights be auctioned off by a government too timid to fight.

And if he wants to speak for that long again, I say this: next time, take a bathroom break. Because the rest of us are drowning in the mess you left behind.

In a world hurtling toward the unthinkable, the American presidency holds a terrifying singularity of power, one that places the fate of millions at the whim of a single, fallible individual.

The recent directive from President Donald Trump to pursue nuclear weapons testing parity with Russia and China is not merely a provocation; it is the latest symptom of a profound and enduring failure in our national security architecture.

This failure is compounded not only by Republican recklessness but by a Democratic establishment that has consistently lacked the courage to confront it.

In a world hurtling toward the unthinkable, the American presidency holds a terrifying singularity of power, one that places the fate of millions at the whim of a single, fallible individual.

The recent directive from President Donald Trump to pursue nuclear weapons testing parity with Russia and China is not merely a provocation; it is the latest symptom of a profound and enduring failure in our national security architecture.

This failure is compounded not only by Republican recklessness but by a Democratic establishment that has consistently lacked the courage to confront it.

THE CURE OF TROY

Human beings suffer

They torture one another,

They get hurt and get hard.

No poem or play or song

Can fully right a wrong

Inflicted and endured.

The innocent in gaols

Beat on their bars together.

A hunger-striker’s father

Stands in the graveyard dumb.

The police widow in veils

Faints at the funeral home.

History says, Don’t hope

On this side of the grave…

But then, once in a lifetime

The longed-for tidal wave

Of justice can rise up,

And hope and history rhyme.

So hope for a great sea-change

On the far side of revenge.

Believe that a further shore

Is reachable from here.

Believe in miracles

And cures and healing wells.

Call miracle self-healing:

The utter, self-revealing

Double-take of feeling.

If there’s fire on the mountain

Or lightning and storm

And a god speaks from the sky

That means someone is hearing

The outcry and the birth-cry

Of new life at its term.

It means once in a lifetime

That justice can rise up

And hope and history rhyme.

by Seamus Heaney

We are less than a week away from the scariest day of the year. I do not mean Halloween. I am talking about Election Day.

To understand the reason to fear this exercise in democracy, the consequences of voting 

The grim math from Harvard and UCLA confirms what many of us have long felt in our bones: in the wake of a mass shooting, as our nation grieves, the politicians in the pockets of the gun lobby often use that very moment of tragedy to loosen firearm laws.

The internet is the public square of the 21st century—a vital engine for our economy, our democracy, and our daily lives. Its power derives from its foundational principle: that all data is treated equally. This principle, known as net neutrality, ensures that a startup can compete with a giant, that an independent journalist can be heard alongside a major network, and that your internet service provider (ISP) serves as a neutral gateway, not a gatekeeper.

This principle is now under direct assault. The January 2025 ruling by the Sixth Circuit Court of Appeals, which struck down the Federal Communications Commission’s (FCC) net neutrality rules, is a devastating blow. It was not based on sound technological reasoning or public interest but on a radical judicial philosophy that empowers massive corporations at the expense of consumers and small businesses. The court, emboldened by the Supreme Court’s rejection of Chevron deference in Loper Bright, has effectively tied the hands of the expert agency meant to protect us.

This decision confirms what we have long known: in the face of a captured FCC, a hostile judiciary, and relentless lobbying by telecom giants, only a definitive, durable law passed by Congress can restore and permanently protect net neutrality.

In the grand theater of American politics, few spectacles offer such a peculiar blend of cruelty and predictability as the Republican Party’s enduring crusade to strip health care from the most vulnerable.

It is a political pastime that seems to provide its practitioners with a sense of profound satisfaction, a mission they pursue with the relentless glee of a cat batting at a cornered mouse.

The latest chapter in this long-running drama involves a concerted effort to defund Planned Parenthood by severing its ties to Medicaid, the nation's largest health insurance program.

The words a leader speaks carry weight. They shape the air a nation breathes, the thoughts that take root in the minds of citizens, and the boundaries of what some believe is permissible.

When those words are repeated often enough—when they are sharpened into weapons, when they paint opponents as enemies and institutions as corrupt, when they frame violence as necessary—they do not simply linger. They act.

The pattern is clear, and it is dangerous. The rhetoric promoted by Donald Trump—the casual dehumanization of adversaries, the glorification of brute force, the relentless insistence that the system itself is rigged—has created an environment where lone actors believe they are not just justified, but called, to commit violence.

The recent statement from Karoline Leavitt, claiming the Democratic Party is made up of "Hamas terrorists, illegal aliens, and violent criminals," is more than just a horrific lie. It is a dangerous and calculated weaponization of fear that must be condemned for what it is: a strategic tool to undermine our democracy.

This isn't a simple mistake or an isolated bit of mudslinging. It is a core part of Donald Trump's un-American political strategy. By falsely painting their opponents as evil, the GOP creates a fake crisis. They tell their supporters that our country is under attack from within by these invented demons.

Why? Because if political rivals are not just citizens with different ideas, but are instead "terrorists" and "criminals," then one can justify almost any action against them. This false emergency is being used to rationalize a brutal consolidation of power. It is the classic excuse of the would-be autocrat: we must break the rules to save the country from this "evil."