Politics | Recovery | Current Obsessions

Uncertainty isn’t doom. It’s possibility in disguise.

Trump has broken the simulation. After years of conspiratorial build-up and righteous demands for transparency about the Epstein files among the MAGA base, Trump’s refusal to release them—his intransigence and denial of their importance—led his supporters into a realm of cognitive dissonance that has yet to be resolved.¹

I have some theories about whether Trump will succeed in fake-newsing himself out of this one. I could place my bet as to whether this is the end of the MAGA coalition and what it might mean for Democrats’ strategy moving forward; seemingly every columnist in America has. But the most important political development to come out of Trump’s Epstein meltdown isn’t specific to the Epstein files, it’s that no one saw this coming and that we don’t really know what it means.

I believe this civil war could be the first in a sequence of dominos that ends with a Democratic majority in the House and Senate over the midterms, the disintegration of Trump’s stranglehold on the party, and perhaps even the emboldening of the less enthusiastically fascist to moderate. I worry that makes me sound unsophisticated or ignorant, but maybe that’s possibility feels more threatening than defeat.

We’ve spent the last decade sharpening our imagining of catastrophe and the last six months seeing some of our worst visions come true. The darkness of this timeline (Trump 1, Covid, Trump 2) activated our deepest lizard brain’s tendency to confuse panic with planning and doomsaying with realism.

Neuroscientists suggest that anxiety and fear can be habit-forming. The “cheap” dopamine we associate with immediate gratification in a pleasurable way is just as available to us when we marinate in stress as when we binge on Temptation Island. Other studies provide evidence that pessimists are perceived as smarter, negative evaluations as more perceptive, and negative memories as more valuable lessons for future behavior. Perversely, we can feel better about ourselves—or at least more competent—if we convince ourselves that we’re doomed. Sincerity is cringe, certainty is smart.

Paramount’s cancellation of Stephen Colbert’s The Late Show has spawned a cascade of takes warning that this act of corporate cowardice is a sign of further free-speech travesties to come. But maybe something more interesting happens: Colbert becomes more popular than ever elsewhere. He inspires other comedians to take risks. His voice gets louder, not quieter.

Less gloomy analyses feel riskier, but consider Colbert’s own philosophy: “Cynicism masquerades as wisdom, but it is the furthest thing from it.”

We rehearse collapse. We scroll through the end of democracy. We stockpile dread. And that makes sense. When the worst has happened, again and again, faith starts to look naive.

It is absolutely vital to our survival as a democracy that we admit the worst may not happen. The prospect of an apocalypse paralyzes even as ruminating on disaster lights up our brain the same way preparing for it does. Or, worse, truly immobilizing depression can set in: If nothing will work, you’re off the hook. Don't even try.

Indeed, Congressional Democrats have been struggling against defeatist inertia since Trump began steamrolling the whole branch of government six months ago. Long-shot stabs at sabotage or performative opposition have alternated with moments of pure resignation.

But the Epstein files have stiffened Democrats’ spine. Their refusal to back down on forcing a vote on the files led to House Speaker Mike Johnson simply shutting down Congress early—and yesterday, Democrats extended this admirable recalcitrance to committee work by attaching Epstein-related amendments to whatever bill was at hand. These moves are one step up from stunts and I don’t mind it. I am pro-stunt. It is not too late for them to embrace their role as a purely disruptive force. I feel stupid saying they might, and that’s sometimes what hope is.²

The first lesson in Timothy Snyder’s On Tyranny is, Don’t obey in advance. A civilian friend of mine—a mom, a non-journalist, non-government-employee—recently re-read Snyder’s best-seller and told me she felt powerless to take action on that step. “I’m not in a position where I can obey or not obey,” she said. “I’m not being asked do something that goes against my values... not yet, at least.”

But you don’t have to wait until fascism actually knocks at the door to not obey in advance. You don’t have to wait to be given orders to be non-compliant. Don’t give up in advance and maybe we won’t even get there.

Don’t pre-surrender to despair. Don’t treat uncertainty as a guarantee of doom. That’s not realism. That’s surrender dressed up as maturity. Realism isn’t being right. It’s admitting you don’t know what happens next and preparing for all the possibilities, even the pleasant surprises.

This shift in mindset has freed me so much in my personal life, when I can dance my way into it. For a whole season, almost all of the Biden administration, despair felt like the most rational response to the unknown. I know I’m not alone in that. I am still developing the muscle memory for letting go of pain. Sitting in the unknown without turning it into a forecast for suffering is the hardest thing I’ve ever done.

So where in your own life are you obeying in advance? Where have you already given up, quietly, before more information is available?

I don’t ask you to be sunny or naive, just open. It requires no magical thinking—just a wider lens. I won’t even ask you to hope, because I’m not asking you to pin your happiness on the best outcome. I want you to believe that the best could happen. Be aware that the universe is not entirely malicious, allow room for grace, and suddenly, you might find the energy and capacity for more action.

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End Matter

• The next session of my writing workshop starts in September. It is currently my foundational gig and I’ve grown to love it as a sustaining force on multiple levels. You can find out all about it here. If you’re interested, feel free to write me directly. There are scholarships available.

• Past Due continues to kick ass as a platform for creators to get very real about what our industries require of us and give back to us. Recent conversations have included screenwriter Bob DeRosa, podcast impresario Sam Sanders, and an achingly adorable interview with a creative industry power duo, Josh Gondelman and Maris Kreizman. If you already know and love the show, please consider becoming a Patron!

• Over at Space the Nation, we’re pairing the past and present iterations of various IP projects: Supermans 1978 and 2025, 28s Days, Weeks, and Years. Next week brings 2005’s Fantastic Four and we’ll be checking in on 2025’s the week after that. You might be interested in the other blockbusters we cracked earlier this summer, Thunderbolts* (loved) and Sinners (some other more intense and complicated feeling than mere “love” can communicate). We have a Patreon for that as well!