How Did We Get Here—and How Do We Get Out of This?

I’ve been following Americans of Conscience for the past 6 years. It offers researched ideas, information and opportunities to be involved in supporting democratic values, as well as lists of good news when justice, hope and courage rise to the surface and beyond. I have excerpted one of their earlier blogs, filled with historical reminders, thoughtful reflection and calls for resistance and hope. As the author states “. . . in the end, democracy is not something we have. It’s something we do.”

How Did We Get Here—and How Do We Get Out of This?

americansofconscience.com/how-did-we-get-here/

July 11, 2025

It’s appalling to watch institutional failure unfold in real time. The very systems meant to protect our rights and support the common good are buckling—or already broken. Corporate interests are sabotaging climate action. Extreme political agendas are packing our highest courts. And for millions of people—especially Black, Indigenous, and other marginalized communities—this disillusionment isn’t new. It’s history repeating itself.

If you’ve felt anything from angry to defeated, disoriented to numb, you are justified. These feelings are only natural as we face a democratic crisis that violates the values we hold most dear. At the same time, many of us are realizing that American democracy has always been imperfect—sometimes brutally so—and that many have been working for decades to both repair and reimagine a more perfect union. 

During the Great Depression, when poverty and unemployment hit every American household, solving the root causes seemed insurmountable. Yet people organized unions, formed cooperatives, and pushed for bold government reforms that reshaped the country. During the Civil Rights Movement, in the face of legalized racial terror, people focused not on the oppressor but a dream of justice and liberty. Together, they walked across bridges, into buses, even into jails to win long-denied rights.

In each of these moments, despair was thick in the air. And yet people found ways to resist not only injustice—but hopelessness itself. They knew that the forces working against democracy were powerful—but not permanent.

So what kept them going? It wasn’t certainty. It was clarity. Clarity about what mattered most: dignity, freedom, care, justice. And the belief that those things are worth fighting for, even when the outcome isn’t guaranteed. Especially then.

Today, we’re being called to that same kind of courage. The threats we face—climate collapse, rising authoritarianism, political violence—are real. And yet, they’re not the whole story. What’s also real is our ability to organize, to protect each other, to reject despair, and to practice democracy from the ground up. That doesn’t mean ignoring how bad things are. It means choosing, again and again, not to abandon what’s worth saving.

Mariame Kaba wrote, “Hope is a discipline.” It’s not wishful thinking or passive optimism. It’s a commitment to showing up—for ourselves, for each other, and for a future we may not live to see. These acts matter. They’re what democracy looks like in the making.

We may not be able to fix everything overnight. But we can be part of a generation that doesn’t give up. We can choose to tell the truth, to protect the vulnerable, to imagine boldly, and to act together. We can reject isolation and deepen our networks of mutual support. We can honor the movements that came before us by doing what they did: resisting, reimagining, and refusing to let go of each other.

Because in the end, democracy is not something we have. It’s something we do. And in times like these, doing it with love, clarity, and persistence might just be the most radical thing we can offer.

So no, we can’t fix everything. But we can keep going. We can look to each other, keep planting, keep building, and keep choosing to believe that a just and thriving democracy is still worth our effort—and still within reach.