Stand Up to the Bully

It's Donald Trump versus the United States, and it's up to us to make sure he doesn't win.

Today, Donald Trump has been on a tirade, multiple tirades actually, unbefitting the president of the United States. You know that, and there is nothing good to be gained by focusing on the people he has singled out. It’s part of his ongoing pattern of abusing the powers of the presidency to publicly seek retribution or punish people he considers to be his enemies.

Trump doesn’t make us guess about this. He’s said the quiet part out loud on multiple occasions, like these:

• At CPAC March 4, 2023, midway through a rambling campaign speech, Trump explicitly promised “retribution” for his supporters—which, of course, meant for himself. He told the crowd, “In 2016, I declared, ‘I am your voice.’ Today, I add: I am your warrior. I am your justice. And for those who have been wronged and betrayed: I am your retribution.” He concluded, “I will totally obliterate the deep state.”

• In a Truth Social post in September 2024, Trump threatened to jail people who opposed his reelection, posting a warning on Truth Social to those “involved in unscrupulous behavior” this election, which he said would be under intense scrutiny. He posted, “WHEN I WIN, those people that CHEATED will be prosecuted to the fullest extent of the Law, which will include long term prison sentences so that this Depravity of Justice does not happen again.” Trump’s track record suggests a willingness to mischaracterize electoral losses as fraud, even in the absence of any evidence. (Judges determine the length of prison sentences in cases where juries convict. None of that is something a president can—or should—promise or even weigh in on.)

• At Georgia’s Republican Party Convention on April 4, 2023, in a speech following his indictment on charges of mishandling classified documents, Trump told the crowd, “They’re not coming after me, they’re coming after you—and I’m just standing in the way. But that ends soon. We’ll take care of them.” Throughout, Trump talked about vengeance, positioning himself as a martyr for his supporters and vowing retaliation.

All told, during campaign season, Trump made over 100 threats to prosecute or punish people he perceived as enemies. We’ve seen him make good on that in a series of executive orders, some cloaked in the pretense of concern over anti-Semitism or discrimination (which now means failing to protect white Christians), that target individuals or institutions he thinks have done him wrong. His public directions, presumably to Attorney General Bondi, to investigate people or entities are part and parcel of it. As are the social media posts attacking people, often just for doing their jobs.

It’s no way for the president to run the White House. But elections have consequences, and this is among them following 2024, when just enough Americans stayed home, or bought fake concerns about Biden’s economy, or wanted a change. Some people are so inured to Trump’s bad behavior that they shrug their shoulders and pass it off as “just Trump.” When you hear people doing that, stop and remind them that this isn’t normal or innocent. He is literally on a revenge tour and abusing the powers of the presidency.

As for us, we have the opportunity to put a stop to this because we still have the right to vote—we need to prepare to exercise it while we can and take steps to protect free and fair elections ahead of 2026, which will be upon us sooner than you might think.

Our tradition of democracy is what makes us different. It’s instilled in us from a young age through classroom elections and developed in democratically elected city and county governments and with the opportunity to vote for our state and federal officials. Even if we take it for granted, democracy is the structure we build our lives upon, and that’s an advantage in a time like ours. It is much easier to insist upon maintenance of something you are used to having than to demand something you’ve never had.

In the Philippines, under Ferdinand Marcos, what became an increasingly repressive environment and authoritarian rule finally led millions of people to take to the streets in protest after two decades, when he tried to engage in election fraud. That provoked a military defection that led Marcos to flee the country. We don’t have to wait 20 years to protest. We have the right to do it and are already doing it. We need to make sure we understand the power we have as voters and fully exercise it to keep our country from becoming a lapsed democracy.

The Soviet-backed Communist regime in Poland fell to the Solidarity trade union, led by Lech Wałęsa. The labor movement began as a demand for workers’ rights and evolved into a call for freedom from the Communist government’s control. Despite government crackdowns and the imposition of martial law, the movement grew, leading to semi-free elections and the fall of Communism in Poland, which opened the door for the rest of Eastern Europe. We don’t have to go through a struggle of that length and magnitude. But we do have to insist upon our right to vote and, most importantly, bring more of our fellow citizens along with us in 2026.

During the Civil Rights Movement, governors like Alabama’s George Wallace tried to maintain systemic racism. But Americans used boycotts, marches, and civil disobedience to challenge racist Jim Crow laws and defy bullies, like governors and police officials that stood with those who would deny Black people’s equality. It was everyday citizens and the leaders who emerged from the movement who succeeded. Americans know how to do that. There is enormous power in nonviolent resistance and collective outrage when it is sustained. It educates and motivates.

Americans have that innate ability in their bloodstream. From 1773 and the Boston Tea Party to modern-day protests against an American president who wants to usurp the power that the Constitution assigns to Congress and the Judiciary, we know how to protest efforts to degrade our democracy. Standing up to the bully works—in fact, it’s the only option. Ignoring it won’t make it go away.

But our history is full of evidence that we know how to turn the tide.

By 1971, Vietnam veterans who were against the war had had enough. Led by future Senator John Kerry, they gathered in D.C. for weeklong protests called Dewey Canyon III in April of that year. The protest started with under a thousand veterans and Gold Star parents who marched, camped on the National Mall, and famously threw their medals on the steps of the Capitol in protest of the war. Their actions brought national attention to the moral and human costs of the war, helping shift public opinion and apply pressure on policymakers. Courage is contagious, and knowledge is power—no matter how many times you hear those sayings, they remain true.

In the 1950s, under McCarthyism and the “Red Scare,” people were afraid to push back against the bully, Senator Joseph McCarthy, whose aggressive and frequently baseless accusations against people he didn’t like in government, entertainment, and academia ruined lives. He called people communist traitors despite the absence of any evidence of it. He used public hearings and fear to consolidate power.

People didn’t stand up because they were afraid of being labeled Communists themselves. The media, for the most part, repeated his claims until very late stages, and very few politicians of the day were willing to challenge his tactics, thinking only of self-preservation. Even President Eisenhower avoided confrontation with him until the end.

McCarthy destroyed careers. People’s exercise of First Amendment rights was chilled. An atmosphere of fear prevailed. McCarthy’s power grew because of silence and self-preservation. It only came to an end when others finally said “enough.” It didn’t take an army or a rebellion. It took American common sense and persistence.

Early in 1954, McCarthy, who had asked for preferential treatment for an aide on his subcommittee who was drafted and apparently not received full satisfaction, decided to go after the Army, with an allegation that security at a top secret facility was inadequate. There were three months of nationally televised hearings.

Senate records tell the story of how it all ended like this: “The army hired Boston lawyer Joseph Welch to make its case. At a session on June 9, 1954, McCarthy charged that one of Welch’s attorneys had ties to a Communist organization. As an amazed television audience looked on, Welch responded with the immortal lines that ultimately ended McCarthy's career: ‘Until this moment, Senator, I think I never really gauged your cruelty or your recklessness.’ When McCarthy tried to continue his attack, Welch angrily interrupted, ‘Let us not assassinate this lad further, senator. You have done enough. Have you no sense of decency?’”

It was suddenly over, and seemingly overnight, McCarthy’s hold on the country disappeared. His Senate colleagues and his party abandoned him; the media stopped parroting his accusations. Three years later, he was dead.

Challenge the bully. Don’t let him have his way. As with McCarthy, sometimes it just takes one courageous moment to puncture the balloon. Maybe we will have a moment like that. But even if we don’t, the way to challenge the bully is by voting. In 2026, every seat in the House of Representatives will be on the ballot as will 33 seats in the Senate. If you want to ask Trump, “Have you no sense of decency?” make him face Democratic majorities in both bodies of Congress.

Members of the military fought and lost their lives to protect our country. All we have to do is vote.

We’re in this together,

Joyce