The first choice for my patriot of the week is pretty obvious. But let me explain why…
Cory Booker’s historic speech—the words and the action—showed America what standing up looks like. Based on the national response, it’s clearly something those who care about democracy desperately needed to see and experience; it’s something we can only hope other political figures learn from; and it’s something the broader citizenry so needed to witness.
Below, and HERE, I explain why our action must match our rhetoric.
Too often, this hasn’t happened of late. And when our actions don’t match our words, it does damage in multiple ways, to multiple audiences.
Cory’s action matched his rhetoric. And that’s why it broke through, and why it was so important.
It’s the same reason that protests this weekend and town halls going forward are also so important. Join them if you can.
Defiance: An Example from Georgetown Law
I want to give kudos to another figure who took an important stand this week.
I spent my week talking about how, when attacked, institutions of higher ed (and others, such as law firms) must not divide in compliance, but must unite in defiance. About how that’s the only choice to be made.
I said this to a crowd in Atlanta on Monday, at a meeting of higher ed leaders from across the country, called Campus Compact:
I repeated it yesterday to a wonderful group of citizens gathered in Dayton:
And yesterday evening, I was honored to address the opening plsession of the Conference of the OAH (Organization of American Historians). Yes, I emphasized it again: uniting in defiance is the only path that works. Complying, one at a time, launches an inevitable downward spiral:
Now, as I say and write these words, I know it’s easy to say, and harder to do.
But people are doing it. And I want to highlight one example of the type of response I’m talking about.
It’s the letter from William Treanow, the dean of Georgetown Law School, sent in response to the Trumpy US Attorney of the District of Columbia who said he would not hire students from Georgetown. (I actually spent a law school summer in that office—and one of the best attorneys I worked with there was a Georgetown law student).
Please read the letter:
The letter doesn't give an inch. It doesn’t cower.
Instead, it goes on offense.
It defends the school, its mission, its history, its independence. It defends its faculty, its students, and its graduates with pride and gusto. (Imagine reading this letter as an alumni or student at Georgetown, versus those at schools that have cancelled, in advance, Black alumni reunions or events celebrating women).
It makes clear that the federal government can not interfere with its decisions about curriculum—“who may teach, what to teach, and how to teach it.” That these decisions are part of the “freedoms central to a University’s First Amendment right.”
It holds up Constitutional first principles, then makes clear that the US Attorney’s actions violate both the Fist Amendment and federal statutory law: “Given the First Amendment’s protection of a university’s freedom to determine its own curriculum and how to deliver it, the constitutional violation behind [your] threat is clear, as is the attack on the University’s mission as a Jesuit and Catholic institution.” [This is important: as with all the law firm attacks, these attacks on universities are illegal in all sort of ways and should be treated as such].
Having warned the government about its transgressing of federal law, the letter ends: “We look forward to your confirming that any Georgetown-affiliated candidates for employment’s with your office will receive full and fair consideration.”
So rather than caving, the letter closes with its own demand. Good!
THIS is how you respond.
All higher ed institutions should respond in the same way.
And that response can’t just come from individual departments or professors or students. They also must come from the very tops of these schools—boards and presidents and the other leaders—with the entire university and college community signaling support (including the high-profile coaches of the teams we all cheer for).
After all, if you can’t defend the essential integrity of your institution, why are you leading it in the first place?
Stay strong, everyone.
The Meta Message and Why It Matters
Back to Cory Booker’s speech.
I dedicated part of a chapter in “Saving Democracy” to the importance of actions matching our words. Because the inconsistency between messages we verbally communicate every day, and the “meta messages” our actions or inactions communicate every day, and/or tone, can do great damage to the cause.
As I explain:
“For good and for bad, we project powerful messages way beyond the words we use. Drew Westen calls it our “meta-message”— what we communicate from our action or inaction, and the urgency with which we act. That meta-message becomes especially important as rhetoric heats up and the political battle becomes highly charged.
Think about it this way: less political or less engaged Americans are watching fierce back-and-forth rhetorical battles play out on issues as profound as democracy and the rule of law. The words are at a fever-pitch.
At some point, unsure of who to believe amid all that rancor, many may tune out the war of words— but they’re still making judgments based on other cues. That’s where meta-messaging comes in. And a meta-message that is inconsistent with a heated verbal message will often be the ultimate tiebreaker in who those watching believe.
Here’s an example: Many Democrats spent much of 2021 bemoaning state attacks on voting rights as a dire threat to democracy. (I was one of them—it’s why I wrote Laboratories of Autocracy in the first place.) But a Senate debate and a vote to protect voting rights didn’t occur until January 2022. When it finally came, it felt like the Senate was largely going through the motions. And after that vote failed to overcome the filibuster, no debate occurred for the rest of the term. Hardly earned a mention.
To many Americans, the meta-message from that long-delayed and half-hearted Senate effort spoke far more loudly than the fierce rhetoric about democracy and voting rights coming from some quarters: if you really think democracy is under attack, you’d do something about it. You’d fight hard! Since you’re not doing much about it, it must not be that bad.
Here’s another: We labelled January 6 an insurrection—an attack against democracy. Members of Congress were involved in its planning, and many voted against certifying the election early the next morning. But those members never faced accountability for their actions—for the most part, accountability wasn’t even attempted. Almost all of those involved got reelected, and now they enjoy the majority. As Westen put it to me, “Now we have a House run by coup attempters.”
To many Americans trying to make sense of it all, the meta- message from this sequence comes through loud and clear, and the response from many observers will be something like: if you really thought they were part of an illegal and criminal insurrection, you would at least try to do something about it. There would be accountability. Since you didn’t even try, it must not be that bad—especially when we see action taken immediately in other countries for similar attacks.
More broadly, we find ourselves in a time where increasingly disturbing tactics are threatening democracy. The violation of laws. Intimidation of voters. Extremism. Violence. Talk of a national “divorce.” Responding to all of this with a “politics as usual” meta-message normalizes it all.
Beyond the general role of meta-messages, certain audiences interpret those meta-messages in ways that drive their own future actions.
Whatever words you may use, if a bully never sees you do a thing to hold him accountable, the meta-message sent is clear. Westen, again: “When you appease, the message you send to a bully is that you’re weak, and they’ll go after you again.” That has been a consistent theme of the last decade. Bullies get more aggressive when they detect cowardice and no accountability. They don’t just keep going—they go further.
And if you cower to that bully, those watching that showdown also take note: “The message you send by cowardice is that you’re a coward, and no one votes for a coward. People vote for the people who show conviction in their firmest beliefs.”
Finally, think of the audience that tends to agree with you, but is unsure if it’s worth leaving their comfort zone to get in the fight. If they see cowardice, or hesitation, from leaders at the top, most will decide it’s not worth their own risk, or their sacrifice. If the champions of the cause aren’t going all in, why should they?
As a contrast, think about the meta-message sent by John Lewis. Or Rhoda Denison Bement, so incensed she was banished from her own church. [I tell this story earlier in the book]. And so many like them. Their lifetimes of action were consistent with their fierce rhetoric. They never stopped. They took risks. They never backed down. They clearly believed in what they were saying, and acted on this beliefs. That conviction and persistence and courage comprised a robust meta-message, and legions joined them in what began as impossible fights.
And in April 2023, look at how the nation responded to the “Tennessee Three” when they stood boldly against the gerrymandered Tennessee legislature that voted to oust them. They fought back fiercely, and woke up the country about how broken these legislatures are. The same thing happened after Michigan State Senator Mallory McMorrow spoke up so forcefully in 2022.
Democracy is under attack.
In tone and action, and in everything we do, our meta-message must be consistent with that growing threat, along with the words we use to describe it.”
Senator Booker’s action this week broke through in such a striking way because it accomplished all of this.
