The Power of the Powerless

The election is over. The people have spoken. Some, no doubt, are joyously celebrating the result, perhaps even praising God. Many, however, see a dark cloud hanging over our nation. An undeniable shift in the body politic has taken place—a shift that has many grieving profoundly what has been lost and deeply anxious for what may yet be lost.

Count me amongst the latter. If I seem more composed than some others, it’s simply because I’ve done a fair amount of preparatory grieving already. No, I did not see what was coming. It’s just that I’m Buddhist, and Buddhists value equanimity. I knew that I wanted (needed?) to wake up after the declaration of the winner of this election and get on with living, regardless of the result.

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Which is not to say that I don’t know what it feels like for those who are deeply grieving right now. I was and am horrified that women’s bodily autonomy has been stripped away—at great risk to their liberty and their lives. I continue to be disturbed by the hateful rhetoric and the increased risk it poses to marginalized groups. I anxiously contemplate what might be in store for immigrant families that may be broken apart by the deportations that have been proposed. And all this exists against a backdrop of foreboding as our nation’s embrace of authoritarianism grows stronger. Yes, I understand what it means to be grieving right now.

However, I came to realize something as I was processing my grief. I realized my anger at the justice system having been subverted on behalf of one of the candidates was largely because I’d always thought the justice system was, well, just in the first place. I realized that my lament for our democratic institutions being cynically toyed with in shameless plays for power stemmed from my belief that those democratic institutions had generally worked for me in the past. I realized that my indignation at the unfairness of unqualified individuals being placed in positions of power arises primarily from my having, in large part, grown up in a meritocracy.

In other words, my grief is a function of my relative privilege and power. The less powerful have long found the justice system suspect. The less powerful have long had their liberty denied by “law and order” and their political voice diluted via gerrymandering. The less powerful have long been denied the resources to show what merit they might be able to earn if the system were only more equitable.

Thus, I began to see the silver lining to my dark cloud of grief. I began to feel a stronger affinity for all those who have ever been or felt powerless. I began to see with greater clarity the bond we all share. I began to realize that maybe some people voted for the other guy because he gives them respite from their own sense of powerlessness. Might we use this shared sense of powerlessness to seek commonality, reach understanding, build trust, forge alliances, and, dare I say it, find greater power in true unity? With liberty and justice for all, I might add.

P.S. If you'd like to join others who are building bridges amongst and between disenfranchised individuals, check out the Poor People's Campaign, founded by Rev. Dr. William J. Barber II.

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Copyright 2024 by Mark Robert Frank