For Liberty and Union: Paper No. 1

(by An American Citizen)

On the State of Our Union

Our Union faces its gravest internal test since the founding. The assassination of Charlie Kirk at Utah Valley University on September 10, 2025, exposed fractures that run deeper than any single tragedy. Within hours of his death, we witnessed the machinery of crisis exploitation: FCC threats against broadcasters who questioned the official narrative, coordinated deplatforming across major platforms, and calls for expanded surveillance powers that would have horrified the founders.

Tyler Robinson pulled the trigger that day. But watch carefully who uses his crime to pull triggers of their own.

History teaches us the pattern. When David Ramsay became America's first assassinated politician in 1815, Charleston didn't reform its mental health system—it tightened its grip on dissent. When Congressman James Hinds was murdered by the Klan in 1868, Reconstruction didn't strengthen—it withered under violence. When Huey Long was gunned down in Louisiana's Capitol in 1935, his populist movement didn't survive—the establishment he'd fought consolidated power instead.

The pattern continues in our time. When Gabby Giffords was shot in 2011, the focus shifted from mental health to gun control theater. When Steve Scalise was attacked in 2017, partisan rhetoric briefly softened then intensified. Each tragedy becomes not a moment for addressing root causes but an excuse for whatever expansion of power was already desired.

Today's response reveals the same dark calculation—a system primed to convert any crisis into control, any tragedy into tyranny. By September 30th, this escalated to the President declaring American cities should be military "training grounds"—the crisis-to-control pipeline operating at maximum efficiency.

The Lie of Unity Through Submission

After every tragedy, the call goes out: "We must unite." But unity has been redefined. It no longer means finding common ground despite differences—it means compliance with a prescribed narrative. Question the response to Kirk's assassination, and you're "dividing the nation." Doubt the necessity of new surveillance laws, and you're "enabling extremism."

This inversion of American unity deserves examination. E pluribus unum—from many, one—never meant uniformity of thought. The founders argued bitterly. Hamilton and Jefferson despised each other's politics. Adams and Franklin disagreed on nearly everything. Yet they found unity in principles: that government derives its power from the consent of the governed, that rights are inherent rather than granted, that power must be limited and checked.

Real unity emerges from this shared foundation, not from enforced agreement. When Senator Josh Hawley questioned the Surveillance Expansion Act of 2025 (introduced just three days after Kirk's death), he was denounced by both parties for "playing politics with tragedy." But examining the expansion of government power after crisis is not politics—it's patriotism.

The Two-Party Theater

Here's an uncomfortable truth: on issues of power and control, Republicans and Democrats operate as departments of the same corporation. Their disagreements are real but carefully bounded—they fight over distribution of power, never its fundamental expansion.

Consider the voting records. The USA PATRIOT Act passed 98-1 in the Senate, with only Russ Feingold dissenting. The 2008 bank bailouts found instant bipartisan support—$700 billion approved while minimum wage discussions dragged for years. The National Defense Authorization Act, with its surveillance provisions, passes annually with overwhelming majorities. The recent Surveillance Expansion Act of 2025? It passed 87-13, with both party leaders arm-in-arm.

Yet watch what generates theatrical opposition: symbolic resolutions, culture war skirmishes, and personality conflicts that dominate news cycles while changing nothing fundamental. As George Carlin observed, "It's a big club, and you ain't in it."

Trump's history illuminates this theater. For decades, he was a Clinton donor and friend. Hillary attended his 2005 wedding. He contributed to the Clinton Foundation as recently as 2014. Then suddenly, in 2016, they were mortal enemies. The enmity was performed convincingly, but the prior friendship was real. This isn't conspiracy—it's documented history, visible in FEC filings and wedding photographs.

Manufacturing Division

Division doesn't emerge organically from American diversity—it's cultivated. The process is observable and repeatable.

First, complex issues get reduced to binary choices. You must choose between safety and freedom, never both. Between order and liberty, as if the Constitution doesn't balance both. Between progress and tradition, as if societies can't evolve while preserving valuable customs. This forced binary thinking eliminates nuance and compromise.

Second, extremes get amplified while the reasonable majority gets ignored. A 2024 Pew Research study found that 67% of Americans share common ground on most policy issues, yet media coverage focuses on the angriest 15% at each pole. Algorithms reward outrage, pushing moderate voices into silence.

The weaponization of language accelerates this division. "Violence" now includes speech. "Harm" encompasses disagreement. "Safety" requires censorship. When words lose stable meaning, communication becomes impossible. Babel isn't a tower—it's a technique.

Meanwhile, Americans grow physically and digitally separated. Suburban design minimizes interaction. Algorithm bubbles create parallel realities. Economic stratification ensures different classes rarely meet. A Harvard study found that Americans in 2024 had 64% fewer cross-partisan friendships than in 1990. This isn't accident—it's architecture.

The Path to Restored Union

Recognizing the real division is the first step. It's not primarily left versus right—it's those who benefit from expanded power versus those who bear its costs. The connected versus the citizens. The surveillers versus the surveilled.

This recognition enables unexpected alliances. When progressive activists and conservative constitutionalists both oppose the Surveillance Expansion Act, they're finding common ground. When urban minorities and rural whites both distrust the justice system, they share more than they know. When young socialists and old libertarians both reject bank bailouts, they're natural allies against cronyism.

Local action builds these bridges. In Dillon, Montana, Republicans and Democrats united to oppose a data center that would have surveilled their community. In Burlington, Vermont, progressives and conservatives jointly resisted federal education mandates. In thousands of communities, Americans are discovering that their neighbors—regardless of voting patterns—share their concerns about liberty and power.

The Historical Moment

We stand at an inflection point. The Kirk assassination, like the Reichstag Fire of 1933 or the Gulf of Tonkin incident of 1964, is being used to justify predetermined expansions of power. But history also shows that citizens can resist.

After 9/11, we were told the PATRIOT Act was temporary. Twenty-four years later, it's still law. After 2008, we were told bailouts were emergency measures. They became policy. After COVID, we were told restrictions were short-term. Some never ended. Each crisis ratchets power upward; it never ratchets down.

Unless we make it.

The Choice Before Us

We can accept their vision: a managed democracy where safety means surveillance, unity means silence, and peace means submission. Where each crisis justifies new powers that never expire. Where the architecture of control grows daily while the space for liberty shrinks.

Or we can reclaim the founders' vision: a republic of free citizens who govern themselves. Where people disagree vigorously but peacefully. Where power remains limited and local. Where liberty is dangerous but precious.

This choice isn't made in grand gestures but daily decisions. When you speak truth despite consequences. When you support local businesses over surveilled platforms. When you build community connections that transcend party lines. When you refuse to hate who you're told to hate.

Conclusion: The Union We Preserve

Despite everything, the American union endures—not in Washington's corridors but in ten thousand communities where neighbors still help neighbors regardless of politics. Where volunteer fire departments don't check voter registration. Where local churches feed the hungry without asking their party. Where ordinary people show extraordinary compassion in crisis. Where acts of charity cross every divide they try to create. Where local solutions work better than federal mandates. Where citizens remember they're Americans first, partisans second, humans always.

They can monitor our communications but not our conscience. They can attack dissent economically but not destroy our enterprise. They can manufacture division but not eliminate our common ground. They can kill Charlie Kirk but not the principles of liberty.

The union isn't theirs to destroy. It's ours to preserve.

And we will—not through submission to power, but through resistance to its expansion. Not through forced unity, but through genuine solidarity. Not through violence, but through determined civic courage.

The test of our generation is here. How we respond will determine whether our children live as citizens or subjects.

Choose wisely. Choose quickly. Choose liberty.

For Liberty and Union—Real Union, Not Submission

Signed,
An American Citizen

Who Refuses to Be Silenced

September 25, 2025