Lord Almighty
Lingering in a gradient between misinformation and myth
In anticipation of Biden’s NATO press conference, and all that depends on it, a post about being young and waiting for a sign from the heavens—or, at least, the elder powers that be. The author, Armita Mirkarimi, will be working with me on Scenes from a Slow Civil War. Born in Tehran, raised in Southern California’s Orange County, she’s studying government and creative writing at Dartmouth College, where this past spring we read together writers and photographers such as Joan Didion, Elena Kostyuchenko, and LaToya Ruby Frazier—journalists and artists attuned to meaning as much as fact, mood as much as data. — Jeff Sharlet
“It’s our vote. We’re going to elect Democrats up and down the ballot and that starts with President Biden on this stage tonight.”
The 19-year-olds sinking into a gray couch next to me applauded. Sanjun, a 22-year-old from Mississippi, stood in front of the TV and gave a speech about America. About the Democratic Party. He said the party depends on young people to survive.
“The fate of the country, for better or for worse, is in our hands. America belongs to us all. There is only one party that advocates for democracy right now. It literally rests in our hands.”
His fingers wrapped around a plastic cup.
I watched the debate with young canvassers for Democrats in Washington, DC. They volunteer across different groups, particularly Swing Left DC. Sanjun had made debate night bingo cards. If you got five in a row, you could skip out on a canvassing shift the following weekend. Friday-Monday, Swing Left volunteers make personalized phone calls to voters in the Washington, DC area. Most volunteers are barely twenty-years old. Some can’t even vote yet. But they spend they spend 20-30 hours a week canvassing for Joe Biden.
We sat on the gray couch, nostalgic for a past we weren’t old enough to remember.
“I wonder what it must have been like in the convention room when Obama gave that speech,” Ahrav, a student at George Washington University, whispered. The “There is no white America, there is no Black America, there is the United States of America speech.” I watched the speech at my grandmother’s home in Tehran, Iran. The grainy television screen glitched but we heard the words clearly: There is the United States of America.
Biden shuffled onto the stage. Lily, recently turned eighteen, from the suburbs of Maryland, buried her face in her hands. Ahrav’s eyelashes fluttered. Mari hugged a white throw pillow. Oxygen flew in our nostrils, and we waited for the candidates to talk, keeping the last bit of clean air in for as long as we could.
“We’d be able to right—wipe out his debt. We’d be able to help make sure that—all those things we need to do, childcare, elder care, making sure that we continue to strengthen our healthcare system, making sure that we’re able to make every single solitary person eligible for what I’ve been able to do with the COVID—excuse me, with dealing with everything we have to do with.”
No one spoke during the commercial breaks. Sanjun took a walk outside. The bingo cards were unmarked. Wine sat in plastic cups. By the end of the debate, I looked around and saw that only five had stayed. Apathy clung to the sticky DC air. The nothingness felt almost palpable.
The day after the debate, I heard from friends that the Eisenhower Executive Building—where much of the White House’s work is done—was empty. The day after the debate, people were working from home.
For the last two election cycles, the bulk of our formative years, my generation has been told that democracy is under threat. We did not see the Berlin Wall fall in 1989. We do not know the victories of liberalism. We did not go to the moon. But we witnessed the siege on the Capitol on January 6, and I stood outside the Supreme Court at 19-years-old and found out Roe v. Wade was overturned. My peers joke, not so subtly, “What are the odds of Kamala Harris actually having to serve as President?”
In 2020, we were promised “the restoration of America.” The “triumph of democracy”; “a return to normalcy.” Instead, we linger in a gradient between misinformation and myth. Mythic spirits haunt CNN’s debate stage, Biden’s ABC interview, and subsequent Morning Joe call. The spirits carry with them different stories of America. Trump’s story is one of return, a desire to go back to a version of America that never existed. Biden’s story is crafted with a drive for personal triumph. He sees his personal success as vital to the sustenance of the country.
During his ABC interview, Joe Biden referenced these elusive mythic spirits. When asked if he would step down, he scoffed and said, “It depends on—on if the Lord Almighty comes down and tells me that, I might do that.”
So, we wait for the Lord Almighty to come down and tell a different story of the nation: One that says America is telic. The word describes the country as an aspirational concept, the idealism we strive to reach, and as it stands right now: Flawed and slanting towards authoritarianism. Telic and faced with a decision—which story are we to believe?
After the debate, I met with one of the founders of Swing Left DC, Ankur. We sat outside a coffee shop in DuPont Circle. The sun sweltered on black metal chairs and tables. Ankur wore a navy polo and kaki shorts. His fingers caught the condensation droplets from his iced water.
Ankur believes in an inclusive America; one that allowed his parents to climb to the middle class after coming to this country with a few suitcases. The country that gave him the opportunity to buy a home, go to his dream school, and get involved with activism full time. After watching Trump win in 2016, Ankur woke up.
“I think I canvassed for Hillary one weekend?” He shook his head. “But Trump. I was scared. I’m still scared. I had to do something.”
He called 170 people in the area, left them personalized voice messages, asking them to join him at Swing Left. Seven people stepped forward. Now, Ankur lets his volunteers host events and workshops to talk to voters.
“It’s like Marvel, the superhero movies.” Ankur directed his finger at his chest. “I believe in it. I believe that there are good guys and evil guys and I think I’m with the good guys. I’m sure the other side thinks the same of themselves, but I know that intrinsically, the good guys will win. We have the innate power to inspire.”
Ankur told me that they’re not just organizing for Biden.
“Sure, the top of the ticket is important but there’s also the whole rest of the ticket to organize for. Look, I don’t know why Biden is staying in the race. Sure, maybe it’s an ego trip. We can’t control that. No one can but him. We have to focus our energy on the bottom of the ticket too..”
The Lord Almighty may never come down. But there are a million and one other stories of the country for us to investigate and decide to imagine. The American project, in its false promises and glimmers of hope, remains if we continue to believe in it. To start, let’s ask: If, like President Biden says, we are at an “inflection point,” if our current moment is truly an existential threat to democracy, how come we’re not acting like it?
 | A guest post by
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I've been around a long time, and the idea of true democracy has always seemed aspirational at best in a country still and always mired in patriarchy. From the very beginning when my European ancestors came to the unceded lands of Native Americans, they claimed to be setting up a democracy; but it's was not a democracy ibecause the foundational document included only property-owning white men in its language and laws. How can a so-called democracy have not had a single woman president, and why do so many people living in this democracy still have to spend energy clawing back their rights?