Might Democrats Actually Be Showing a Little Fight?

Backlash is there for the taking

Our political world is so full of vitriol and fury that it’s easy to forget how little legislating actually gets done—whole years pass without our gridlocked Congress passing bills that really change the texture of daily life.

But the Supreme Court, with its recent spate of wildly radical decisions, changed that pattern, destabilizing American politics. In essence they ruled that anyone should be able to carry guns, woman should have to carry babies, and the atmosphere should carry ever more carbon. These were body blows to American norms, each of them despicable—and taken together they offer a once-in-a-generation opening for the drifting, desultory Democratic party to find itself.

And this week there were a few signs that might be starting to happen. I’ve argued that Joe Biden should get on a train and campaign like Harry Truman through the midterms; that clearly isn’t going to happen, but at least he got on Twitter to say the most important words: end the filibuster, at least to codify the protections of Roe v. Wade into law. This is key because it gives the despairing anger about Roe a motivating focus—the sense that if we carried Congress we would actually do something about it. More and more Senators are following suit: Talking Points Memo is keeping score, and yesterday even arch-institutionalist Diane Feinstein joined the list of her colleagues taking the pledge. They’re probably given courage by a series of post-Roe polls showing Senatorial races starting to tilt blue. The House not so much yet (and without a majority there the Senate can’t do much) but…inflation is trending down, which could reorient the election. One classic sign: the Wall Street Journal editorial board is worried enough to be writing that people aren’t actually mad about the abortion rulings. They concede that 75% of women disagree with the Supreme Court, but console themselves that “many people, as usual, don’t seem to understand what exactly Roe enshrined, which was an unrestricted right to abortion before about 23 or 24 weeks.” Actually, they are worried that people understand what’s happening all too well: a reactionary cabal Rupert Murdoch has spent decades and billions supporting is taking away all kinds of rights that Americans depended on.

The little sparks of feistiness the Democrats are showing shouldn’t fool any of us into thinking that they will develop a full-on case of Pluck. The Democratic Party is comfortable with inaction; its default is a kind of mealy-mouthed effort to keep things on an even keel. That’s not ideal, but it’s not impossible either: it means the party is a shell that can be pushed by groups that actually care about things: a livable climate, say. But it requires us to organize the Dems, rather than waiting for the Dems to organize us. Most of the time that’s a hard slog, but this is a rare moment.

At Third Act we’re working hard to figure out how to make this backlash real, and I know the same is happening at groups around the country. The upcoming midterms are getting most of the attention, but we need to push back on the corporations that enabled this judicial coup too. Here’s one hint, to be followed up on in the weeks ahead: the invaluable Judd Legum documents how the big banks (Chase, B of A, etc) that fund Big Oil also provide financial support for the Republican Attorneys General Association, whose members bought the Supreme Court challenges on climate, abortion, and guns.

Other news from the world of climate and energy:

+The march of technology is marching through…sand

When you think of energy solutions, you might not imagine 100 tonnes of builders’ sand piled inside a huge silo. But one company has actually found that sand can be the secret sauce to energy storage, as it can store heat for months. 

+35 faith groups—including several Anglican dioceses and a lot of Jesuit organizations—announced they were divesting from fossil fuels, the estimable organizers at Operation Noah announced. That was followed by the news that the 1.7 million United Presbyterians had voted to divest from the five big oil companies. Getting big, inherently slow-moving denominations to do the right thing takes years and years of effort from noble souls. Looking at you, Abby Mohaupt.

+With summer fully underway, the Washington Post reports that it is becoming “hotter, longer and more dangerous,” in the process “turning what for many Americans is a time of joy into stretches of extreme heat, dangerously polluted air, anxiety, and lost traditions.”

+One big test of Biden’s willingness to stand up to big oil is coming at the so-called Willow project on America’s biggest stretch of public land.

“This is the single biggest oil and gas proposal on federal lands. It’s just a massive carbon threat, a massive development project in an area that’s already being ravaged by climate change,” said Kristen Miller, conservation director of the Alaska Wilderness League. “It’s really sort of an existential crisis.”

+34 scientists have published a cri de coeur about permafrost, the subsurface ice that covers a tenth of our home planet, which they write can only be saved by rapid reductions in fossil fuel emissions

If we fail to protect permafrost ecosystems, the consequences for human rights, biosphere integrity, and global climate will be severe. The policy implications are clear: the faster we reduce human emissions and draw down atmospheric CO2, the more of the permafrost domain we can save.

Our epic nonviolent yarn staggers on toward the finish! (As with the Dalai Lama, Pope Francis is not responsible for his cameo). If you want to read the first 78 chapters of The Other Cheek, you can find them in the archive.

The food pantry opened at 10, and the first man in the door blinked a little at the number of people waiting to serve him, even backing up a little in the door.

“Welcome,” said Maria. “We have a bunch of trainees today. You can help train them—it would be useful.”

The man—he was in his 20s, and given his gauntness meth was a rea-sonable guess—cautiously approached the counter.

“I’m Maria,” she said, sticking out her hand.

“Hi,” he said, wiping his hand on his pants before shaking.

“What’s your name?” she asked.

He looked a little hesitant, as if he didn’t want to answer, and he searched the small kitchen with his eyes. “Pyrex,” he said after a minute.

“Well, welcome Pyrex,” Maria said warmly.

“My friends call me . . . Py,” he said.

“Do you mind if we do that? What can we get for you?”

“Um, anything that doesn’t have to be cooked. Because we—my girlfriend and me—we don’t really have a place right at this moment.”

“Tuna, then,” said Maria, as Allie started to put together a sack. “It’s the kind of can you don’t need an opener for, in case you don’t have one. Crackers. There’s some bottled water in there.”

“You want a Dr. Pepper?” said Gloria, who had been watching quietly.

“That’s . . . yours,” the man said.

“It’s okay, I hate it,” said Gloria. “If it was Coke, I’d be keeping it.” “I hear you,” said the man, taking the can.

“Also, Little Debbie cakes—we’ve got tons today,” said Perry.

“Honey Buns?” said the man. “Honey Buns were like my favorite food ever.”

“Right?” said Perry. “So excellent.”

The man took his sack, and said thank you, and crossed toward the floor. Before he reached it, he paused and turned around. “Pyrex is really just my . . . middle name,” he said. “My given name is William. Thank y’all for the food.”

“Thank you for coming. We’ll see you soon again I hope,” said Maria.

“When you’re done with the can they give you a nickel,” said Gloria. “I have a whole bunch, like eleven.”

“I’ll remember that,” he said with a smile, and left.

“Okay,” said Maria, looking around at the half dozen people standing in the hall. “Thanks, y’all. But maybe we should find something else for some of you to do—it might be a little intimidating to the clients to open the door and find this many helpers just staring at them.” Maria took a broom from a small closet in the kitchen and began to sweep the floor. “Perry, could you change the trash bags, please? I know we have important things on our mind, but we’ve also got hungry people to deal with.”

He disappeared out the door to the parking lot, Hefty sacks in hand, but he’d only been gone a second when he pushed the door back open. “Look who’s here!” he said.

He held the door, and Professor Lee entered, carrying two aluminum attache cases. Behind her trailed Wei, and in her arms an attentive Momo, who was scanning the room. It was hard to say who locked eyes first, but within seconds she had leapt from Wei’s grasp and run across the room to Gloria, who was almost frozen with delight. Almost—suddenly she was on the ground, and the dog was in her face, kissing. “It’s. A. Dog,” she announced.

“That’s the surprise,” said Cass. “It’s not your dog, it belongs to Wei. But I asked, and Wei said you can play with her whenever you want.”

“I want all the time,” said Gloria. She looked up at Wei. “What’s her name?” she said.

Wei needed no translator. “Momo,” she said.

“Momo,” said Gloria, and the dog barked once. “Momo. Momo, Momo, Momo.” They were each almost hysterical, rolling across the linoleum in a tumbleweed of kisses and yips.

“It’s like—it’s like a Youtube video,” said Perry. “Like, I’ve seen this online a thousand times. Puppies and little girls. If we were filming this we could have, like, seven million views by tomorrow.”

“Yes, and 400,000 of them would come from various international intelligence agencies,” said Professor Lee. “Maybe we should talk about what I’ve been finding out.”

“I think so,” said Maria. “Delmy, would you mind watching the food pantry? Wei could help you, and Gloria. If there’s anything you need, come and get us—we’ll be in the church.”

The rest of them filed toward the door to the sanctuary. “Um, what’s her name again?” said Matti, pointing to Flora, who had one hand in the pocket of his overalls and was not letting go.

“Flora,” said Cass.

“Maybe she should go with her mother?” he said.

“Maybe you should ask her to,” Cass said.

“Why don’t you, uh, stay with your mother and your sister. And the doggy,” Matti said, looking stiffly down at the small girl. “It’s just going to be boring talking in there.” He tried to pry her hand out of his pocket.

She looked back up at him and shook her head.

“Well,” said Maria, “just bring her then. She won’t understand what we’re talking about, I don’t think, so it won’t be scary.”

They sat down, some on the front row of pews, and some on the steps of the altar, facing each other.

“Things seem to be coming to a head,” said Maria. “Time for a council of war.”

“Council of war,” said Matti, shaking his head. “I thought you guys didn’t believe in fighting.”

“You . . . left very soon into your year at SGI,” said Maria. “It’s true we don’t believe in killing people. We don’t believe in weapons. We don’t believe in hating our enemies, though at least for me that’s sometimes a problem. We don’t believe in physical force. But we believe in fighting. We believe in fighting more than just about anyone in the world.”

When they all had settled, Professor Lee looked around. “Hello Matti,” she said. “Good to see you again.” Then she turned her laptop around to face them. “Here’s the feed from the American drone,” she said. “As you can see, it’s hovering over SGI. I haven’t actually been able to intercept their comms feed, but the drone was relatively easy—it broadcasts wide area. And so I’ve had a pretty good sense of what they’re after just by watching them watch.”

“Americans?” said Matti. “What Americans?”

“FBI, probably, since the CIA isn’t allowed to look at Americans, but I’m not certain because you’re not a citizen, and so you’re fair game. At any rate, they’re following you because the Chinese are following you and they’re following the Chinese.”

“And do you know any more about what the Chinese are up to?” Perry asked.

“Sort of,” said Professor Lee. “It’s frustrating, because I can only get half the communications—I can listen in to them talking to Beijing, but I can’t get the signal from China, so again there’s a lot of inferring. But they’re very clear they think they have to work fast, which must mean it’s got to do with what’s happening New Years Eve.”

“And do we know more about that?” asked Perry.

“Indeed,” said Professor Lee. “We’ve been quite lucky there—once we had a little sense what to look for, thanks to the information Matti provided, we found a few insecure links at China’s space agency.”

“What information I provided?” asked Matti.

“Um, well, some things you said,” said Allie, blushing slightly. “It wasn’t that hard to guess. But what do you care now, since you’re on our side?”

“I’m not on anyone’s side,” said Matti.

“What do you mean?” said Allie.

“I mean, I’m certainly not helping you guys. You’re trying to disrupt the thing I’ve been working for all year.”

“Excuse me,” said Allie. “After these guys saved your life? After they hung off a blipping drone? Talk about a dick mo—”

“Allie, don’t worry about it,” said Maria. “If he helps us, he helps us, and if he doesn’t he doesn’t.”

“Well then why’s he here listening,” said Allie. “He could just walk out when we’re done and telephone the Chinese.”

“He could,” said Maria. “But I don’t actually think he would, because I think Matti is an excellent judge of self-interest. And at the moment, my guess is the Chinese authorities would be . . . extremely suspicious of anything he told them. They might use the information to disrupt our plans, but I’m pretty sure they’d conclude he’d given us the plans in the first place. Also, it’s possible he’s not quite as bad as all that.”

Matti watched the exchange blankly, even as Flora climbed into his lap again.

“Anyway,” said professor Lee, “here’s what I’ve gotten. Matti, if you think I’m going wrong, feel free to chime in. The Chinese are definitely landing two astronauts—taikonauts—on the moon on December 30—two days from now. I even know their names. And they’re definitely going to make an announcement about the babies—we’ve got various draft texts from the propaganda department going back and forth. And the interesting thing is, they’re going to try and put this message out on every cellphone in the world. That’s the technically novel part.”

Cass looked over at Matti, whose mouth was slightly ajar.

“How are they going to hijack people’s cellphones outside of China?” Perry asked. “That seems . . . hard.”

“Indeed,” said Professor Lee. “But because there’s now local cellphone service on the moon, it’s not impossible. I think Vodafone and Nokia thought they were mostly coming up with an advertising gimmick when they put that hotspot up there this winter, but it actually gives them a backdoor they can exploit, thanks to the Huawei hardware that’s in virtually every router on the planet. And of course that means a backdoor we can exploit, maybe. It’s actually not technologically all that complex—it’s a phone network, not some encrypted military thing. What we need is what we always need in these situations: a password. And I guess that’s what we were hoping Matti might have . . . some insight into what the password might be, since I can tell from these intercepts he’s been working hard on this end, arranging to make it a social media splash when it happens.”

“Viral beyond viral,” Matti muttered. “From the moon.”

“So do you know the password,” asked Allie.

“If I did I wouldn’t tell you,” said Matti. “And I don’t. Most likely.”

Professor Lee stared at him a moment, and then looked down. “Okay,” she said. “Anyway, Perry and I will do our best to crack it, and of course we have some methods we’ll be able to try. No guarantees, not on short notice and not given the care with which the Chinese are planning this. But we will do what we can. Meanwhile, I have no idea what to do about that,” she said, pointing to the screen. “If you look carefully at the drone feed, you can see that a Chinese recon team has already moved in to a perimeter about a quarter mile from the SGI campus. And the American team has moved into position about a quarter mile beyond them. And in the middle of it we have a campus with about a hundred kids from all over the world.”

“Not to worry about them,” said Maria. “Linny and Tony and I have done a little thinking about that, ever since you warned us what was coming. The bigger question is what to do with us.”

“We could stay here,” said Cass. “It’s pretty good cover, a food pantry.” “We could,” said Maria. “But it’s small. And I think that once the authorities pinpoint our location we’re going to want to have some real reason to make them think twice about grabbing Matti and Gloria and probably the rest of us.”

“Gloria?” said Matti.

“Long story,” said Cass. “Has to do with the DL stuff.”

“And speaking of the DL,” said Professor Lee, “he’s completely ready to go on New Years Eve, if we can figure out the password. It would be the perfect ending to your plan for his march,” she said to Matti, who blinked at her and looked away.

“Is he willing to talk now if we need him?” asked Maria. “Like, today. Just a phone call.”

“Yes,” said Professor Lee. “He hasn’t spoken a word in 18 months except that video for Wei, but he says he’s reached the border and kept his pledge, so if we need him to talk all we have to do is ask.”

“I think we’ll be asking,” said Maria. “Allie, Cass, let’s go for a little drive.”

Maria shot out of the parking lot in the Subaru, driving fast towards the Interstate and then accelerating quickly up the exit ramp.

“Maybe lay off Matti a little?” she said to Allie, who was glowering in the front seat.

“Why?” said Allie. “He’s a coward. He’s afraid of the Chinese, too afraid to help the people who bailed him out.”

“I don’t think so,” said Maria. “Maybe a little, but I think he’s afraid of something else. He’s afraid of not being . . . Cass, can you help me here.”

“I think so,” she said. “I was thinking about it last night while we were driving. Matti found himself a story to be in, a big one. He’d been looking for one—but when he got to India for a look it wasn’t really his story, you know? Dusty. And anyway the DL was the center of it all, the guy getting the attention. So he needed to find something else.”

“Why’s he need to be the star?”

“Who knows,” said Maria. “Maybe something happened growing up—I mean, you have some sense of what can happen after a trauma. But there’s a little narcissist in lots of people. Boys more than girls, in my experience. You spent some time with Ayn Rand—isn’t that pretty much what it’s about?”

Allie thought for a moment. “Kind of,” she said.

“It’s the story thing,” said Cass, pausing for a moment as they cut off a tractor-trailer hauling cows to a feedlot. “I mean, he worked for the last year on what is one of the wilder things to ever happen: the first people to land on the moon in fifty years and they’re there to announce that we’re now creating a new kind of human. And almost by accident he’s in the middle of it, because the Chinese needed Silicon Valley. He didn’t actually build a rocket or splice a gene, but he was still—well, it’s a big story is all. Almost like a myth. So he gets to be big.”

“So how do we move him?” Allie asked.

“We probably don’t,” said Cass. “Probably we just try and keep him safe. But the only way to fight the power of a story is with the power of another story.”

“Where are we going?” Allie asked, as they pulled off the highway. “Isn’t this the exit for St. Brigid’s?”

“Yep,” said Maria. “The idea came to me when I was talking to Delmy this morning, about the DL being like the Pope.”

“What’s St. Brigid’s?” Cass asked.

“It’s a parish here on the edge of town,” said Maria. “Allie and I have been coming once a month for a while. It’s not a very exciting church, but it’s a pretty big campus, and it is Catholic, which might be a help.”

“Why?” asked Cass.

“Well, because Catholics are—a big thing. There’s 1.2 billion of them, which is about as many people as China, so that’s a start. It’s a lot more than there are Unitarians, anyway. And I think politicians—even Chinese politicians, even the FBI—might be a little worried about coming into a Catholic church and grabbing someone. Cass, you know we call the main part of a church the sanctuary?”

“Even at temple we call it that,” said Cass. “In fact, since my Torah portion at bat mitzvah was from Exodus, I can tell you that the first sanctuary was the wooden mishkan the Jews carried with them on the way through the desert. The tabernacle was another word for it. Four woven layers of curtains, the walls were—I could be wrong about this—15 feet high. Portable, since they were on the move. It was where . . . God lived, I guess. Anyway, where he lived until Solomon finally built the temple.”

“Good story,” said Maria, who was pulling into the parking lot behind the church. “Anyway, the tradition developed that you could take sanctuary in a sanctuary—I imagine that’s why they call it ‘taking sanctuary.’ The police couldn’t follow you into a church. In the middle ages, it was actually in the law—if you had a hand on the altar you were safe. Maybe we’ll have a showing of Hunchback of Notre Dame—that’s how Quasimodo tries to save Esmerelda. It’s not law any more, but it’s still a kind of custom.”

“So we’re going to hole up here?” asked Allie. “What’s Father Aaron going to say about that?”

“Not sure,” said Maria. “Which is why I’m going to ask for a little . . . divine intervention.” She pulled out her phone and quickly sent a couple of texts, and then she climbed out from behind the wheel. “Come on ladies,” she said. “We’re going to go see the priest.”

Father Aaron, it turned out, was enjoying his breakfast in the rectory, spreading a thin layer of honey on a precisely toasted English muffin when the three women let themselves in.

“Ah, good morning Miss Maria and Miss Allie,” he said.

“This is our friend Cass,” Allie said

“I’m Jewish,” said Cass.

“That’s good—so was Jesus,” said Father Aaron.

“Not as Jewish as him,” said Cass.

“Oh,” he said, turning to Maria. “What occasions your visit this morning?”

“Well, said Maria. “What we need is a place for a bunch of people to stay for the next week, maybe longer, and we were hoping we could camp out in the church. In the sanctuary.”

If Father Aaron was startled he hid it well; Cass found herself thinking that fending off crazy requests was probably a regular part of the job.

“That would have to be run by the parish council,” he said thoughtfully.

“Next meeting is”—he consulted a desk calendar for a moment—“January 14. Would this be a youth group?

“There would be some youth in it,” said Maria.

“Ah, then we would also need to talk with the youth minister, and of course we would need background checks on anyone who would be staying overnight with youths.”

“I understand,” said Maria. “I’m very glad the Church is . . . getting better about that. But this is kind of an emergency.”

“Kind of like when Joseph and Mary needed a place to stay,” said Allie, who was looking a little annoyed.

“That was a long time ago, and I believe there was not a parish council; also, our insurance carrier does not let us house people overnight,” Father Aaron said.

“Some of these people are in danger, sir—Father,” said Cass.

“What kind of danger?” the priest asked.

“Well, they’re being chased by Chinese agents—they had to escape from them on a drone,” said Allie. “And the FBI.”

“I—perhaps you could check with the diocesan office,” the priest said. “It’s possible they have some protocols that would apply here. I’m not sure.” He held his palms out helplessly. “The parish council has been quite worried about the care of the facilities.”

Just then, an older woman leaned in the door.

“Father, a phone call.”

He looked a little relieved at the interruption. “I’ll take it in a minute, sister. Thank you,” he said, turning to help usher his guests out.

“I think you better take it right now,” the woman said. “I’ll deal with your guests.” When the priest had left for his office, English muffin still uneaten, the woman—white-haired, with a bowl cut—approached the trio standing in the hallway. “I’m Sister Noreen,” she said. “And I know more or less who you are, because Rome just told me on the phone. And I’m in your debt, because I got to talk to Francis for just a minute. I mean, he asked for Father, and I said I’d fetch him, but we did actually talk . . . I like this Pope. A lot.”

“Pope Francis?” Cass asked. “Why was he calling?”

“I think he was calling because the DL called him,” said Maria. “That’s why I was texting a few minutes ago. There’s only so many global religious leaders, I figured they must know each other.”

“Apparently,” said Allie. “So now the pope is asking about sanctuary for us?”

“I hope so,” said Maria. “I had a feeling the conversation with Father Aaron might not go so well—he’s a very good man,” she said to the sister, “but perhaps a little by the book.”

“By the book is how we do it now,” Noreen replied. “You’d be by the book too if 103 priests in your state had been sued for abuse. Father’s not exactly dynamic, but at the moment that’s very much in his favor.”

“Agreed,” said Maria. “Anyway, I thought maybe hearing from the Vatican would help make our case. They don’t call the church a hierarchy for nothing.”

“A patriarchy, I think they call it,” said Cass.

“Well, that too,” said Maria, “though I think Sister Noreen might surprise you if you asked her where the real power lay. But anyway, I didn’t exactly expect the Pope himself to call—I thought he might have someone do it for him.”

“Very take-charge, that’s what they say,” said Sister Noreen.

At that moment Father Aaron reappeared in the doorway, looking somewhat astonished. “Perhaps you know who that was on the phone?” he asked Maria.

“Perhaps,” she said.

“First of all, I did not know you were a sister. I think you should have told me.”

“A—long time ago,” she said.

“Were you ever formally separated?” he asked.

“No, more like . . . drifted,” she said.

“Well, then you are still a sister,” he said. “She’s Apostolic Sisters of Saint Francis,” he added to Sister Noreen.

“Can we stay?” Cass asked.

“You are—welcome,” he said. “I am not the owner here, the parish council is not the owner here, though maybe you should not tell them that. God is the owner here, and God’s vicar on earth says it is important for you to be welcomed here, and so you will be.”

“We’re very sorry to cause trouble,” said Maria. “And sorry to go over your head.”

“Sister Maria,” he said. “It’s over all our heads. That is the point of religion, is it not? When will you be moving in?”

“Later this afternoon, if it’s okay,” said Maria. “About ten of us to start.” “Sister Noreen, could you let the Altar Guild know that we need to make the sanctuary ready for our visitors. We will need to move the AA meeting to the basement, which may be a slight problem if it overlaps with the Boy Scouts, in which case the AA can go to my office. Will you be bringing beds?” he asked.

“I hadn’t figured that out yet,” said Maria.

“Blessed Sacrament Hospital has plenty of cots, and they’re just a mile away,” said Sister Noreen. “I’ll give them a call.”