About my smashed shed

and a note on American democracy

THWACK!! The earth shook beneath me. It was night and there was a summer thunderstorm. I could hear the wind whistling through the trees. I was in the bedroom in my cabin, which is perched on a hillside. Seconds after the loud noise, I smelled dust and wood. My first thought was that lightning had struck very close to the house. Then I walked to my window and looked out. I saw that a huge tree from the hillside had fallen down, barely missing the room where I was sleeping. It fell instead on our shed below the cabin, smashing it to pieces. The tree was blocking the road.

I touched my chest to affirm my aliveness then immediately went to my son’s bedroom. He was purring like a kitten. I sat on his bed, took a few deep breaths, and then kissed his sleeping forehead. We were all ok. I exhaled.

History turns on millimeters. Sometimes it is the tree that barely misses the house. Sometimes it is the tree that strikes it. A similar near-miss happened with American democracy on Friday.

You know the saying: You can’t control events, only your reaction to them. I don’t think this is true; it’s too linear. I think of it more as a recursive loop in an ecological process. I believe we can shape some events through our reactions. I believe we have a lot more agency than we think.

There’s a crackly quality in the air around the upcoming election, as if another thunderstorm is about to break. American democracy looks like my smashed shed. There’s crap everywhere. The wooden structure is decimated and barely standing. It’s wide open and exposed to compromise. The shed that once secured our bikes and kayaks no longer feels secure. In cynical moments, I look at it and think: Should we rebuild it? What’s the use?

My view is that we should collectively rebuild the shed that is American democracy. We should improve the foundation, build a stronger structure with new materials, and clear the dead trees around it. For example, we can cultivate a new generation of leaders, rebuild institutions for the 21st century, and pass a set of sweeping, bipartisan reforms as part of an “American reform agenda.” It would be nice if we could enforce our borders, too. Perhaps these ideas are too ill-defined. The point is: Rebuilding is a choice.

There’s a lot working in our system. I was happy to see the widespread condemnation of political violence from across the spectrum. And even though the upcoming election reflects the creakiness of our system, with two old and flawed candidates, it is still an election. The process is still here. Most democratic norms still prevail. 

Democracy is a choice, individually and collectively. We should continue to choose it. Yes, there will be wind and lightning and thunder we cannot control. But there is a lot we can control. I’ve learned some hard lessons and have recommitted to being a constructive participant. For me, this means committing to facts and a shared epistemology, honoring the rule of law and our Constitution, and doubling down on small l-liberalism, more as an operating system for negotiated agreement than as a design for living.

The shed at my cabin, like American democracy, is sitting there smashed like a broken trailer at a trailer park. Now we are filing an insurance claim and hiring an arborist to look at the trees on the hillside. We will build it back stronger and make sure it is better protected. That’s the choice we are making. My son’s generation deserves it.