Thousand Cuts
My grandparents practically raised me and my siblings when we were very young, as we spent a lot of time on their farm. This was especially true in my case, as I'm the oldest and both my parents worked during that period of my life. My grandfather ("Papa") spent a notable part of my aunts' childhood overseas during World War II. Once we were old enough to understand what it meant that Papa had served we were asked not to ask him about The War or his time overseas. Near the end of his life he gifted his grandchildren with medals that he had been awarded for his service.
I cannot communicate enough what my grandparents meant to me and how they affected my understanding of the world on a fundamental level. They were, and are, the yardstick by which I measure things like morality, kindness, work ethic, value, grit, and so much more. I still have the medals that he gave me, I can tell you exactly where they are at this very moment. He was charged by his country to fight the Nazi war machine and it is almost certain he killed people in doing so.
It is agonizing, for many reasons, watching Nazi rhetoric gain a foothold in American culture. I have to ask myself, would my grandfather tolerate this? What would they expect of me? Can I make them proud? How do I understand my grandfathers obligation to his country now, in the light of the era we're living in? Even as I stew on these questions I can't help watch aghast as both myself and people around me choose not to change their lifestyle, refuse to sacrifice comfort, to continue supporting those companies and platforms that bow their heads to the authoritarian regime that tacitly promises them favors in exchange for their dollars. Amazon, Google, Substack[1], Spotify, and so many more.
I can't help but feel ashamed we continue to fall for the con of ephemeral capitalist rewards and the sugary lethargy of the paradox of tolerance while insisting, both aloud and silently to ourselves, that we are "doing the right thing".
There is a diversity publication (previously) held in esteem by my co-workers which has migrated to Substack. When I inquired on their reasoning for supporting an organization platforming fascist rhetoric under the guise of protecting free speech, a rhetoric notably at odds with their own, I was met with thin denial that Substack remained viable to that particular community. Further, a very cheerful quote from our email exchange:
As an organization dedicated to inclusion and fighting hatred, we take these matters very seriously and so do really appreciate your taking the time to reach out to us. Our reason for utilizing Substack is actually because they offer a chat feature, which will allow us to enable conscientious people like you to connect with like-minded others to build community and share ideas around inclusive excellence and belonging.
I can't help but perceive this as an admission that Substack is the path of least resistance for communities like this and therefore the gap between the discomfort of building this community through other, perhaps disparate, platforms is proportionately far too large compared to the discomfort of perhaps rubbing shoulders with other fascist communities[2]. I can't help but see this as lazy, at best. ↩︎
Here's a joke. What do you get when nine people sit down to a table with a Nazi? Ten Nazis. ↩︎