The Lie We Lived
America was built on a promise. It was an audacious
experiment, an idea so radical that it shook the foundations of the old world:
that power could rest not in kings, aristocrats, or priests but in the hands of
ordinary people. That government would be accountable to the governed. That law
would apply equally to all. That truth and reason would guide our politics and
that liberty, once secured, would endure.
We were raised to believe that democracy was not just an
idea but an unbreakable reality. No matter how dark the days or how strong the
opposition, the system would self-correct, the truth would win, and justice
would prevail. We thought America had safeguards, laws, institutions, and
elections that would make tyranny impossible. We assured ourselves that a
demagogue could never take control here, that the people would always reject
dictatorship, that the mistakes of history belonged to other nations, to other
peoples, to a distant and less enlightened past.
It was all a lie.
Not a deliberate lie, perhaps, but a myth we told ourselves
to avoid facing the fragility of our system. Because the truth is this:
democracy was never permanent. It was never self-sustaining. It was an ongoing
struggle that required constant vigilance, education, and a shared moral code.
And America, lulled into arrogance and complacency, let all three slip away.
We let ignorance become a political force, no longer
something to be corrected but something to be embraced and weaponized. We let
wealth buy power so that laws became tools of the few rather than protections
for the many. We let religious extremists creep into government, stripping away
the barrier between church and state, replacing reason with dogma, and turning
faith into a justification for oppression.
Worst of all, we ignored the warnings. We saw the signs: leaders
who praised dictators, dismissed truth as inconvenient, encouraged violence, attacked the press, and dismantled the guardrails of democracy
one by one, and we did nothing. We told ourselves the system would hold. We
told ourselves the courts would stop them. We told ourselves that "it
could never happen here."
But it has.
America is no longer a democracy. That is not a statement of
fear but a statement of fact. The transition is complete. What we are
witnessing now is not the destruction of democracy; it is what comes after. It
is the entrenchment of a new order: an oligarchy ruled by billionaires, a
theocracy dictated by religious fundamentalists, and an autocracy controlled by
a man who views himself as above the law.
There is no cavalry coming, no institutional failsafe, no
automatic correction. There is no next election that will fix this, and there
is no Supreme Court ruling that will undo what has been done. The game has been
rigged, the rules are rewritten, and those who hold power will not give it up
willingly.
So, what do we do?
This book is not a warning. Warnings are for those who still
have time to act. This is a reckoning, a reflection on what has already
happened and what it means for those of us who now live under the reality of
American fascism. Some will accept it, some will fight it, and some will flee.
But the lie is dead. The illusion has shattered.
The question now is not whether America can be saved. It is
whether America, as we knew it, still exists at all.
William James Spriggs