Kevin Ryan: America, country versus city

Photo by Kevin Ryan

Imagine a prairie, red in bloodshot light, swollen with corn.

You're in a rocking chair, on a porch, looking out at fields of grain, surrounded by friends and family. Now imagine an urban sprawl, a landscape of fog and metal and sidewalk and car horns. From the patio of your high-rise apartment, you look out at the city, as a dinner party churns.

One thing I hear repeatedly from people in rural areas is, "I cannot believe the amount of hatred Trump faces. It's unprecedented."

If you measure public opinion via mainstream media — excluding Fox News, which is definitely part of the so-called mainstream media — you'd understandably assume that most Americans hate Trump's guts.

Yet nearly 63 million people voted for him in 2016. Still fewer than Hillary Clinton, although Trump nabbed the electoral vote by a far larger margin.

When I talk to people in cities, they often have a gauzy idea about Trump supporters. To them, Trump supporters are faraway anomalies. The obverse is true in smaller towns, especially in the countryside — and not just the South or in Middle America, you'll find tons of Trump flags along the backroads of Oregon and California, same for the East coast.

Earlier this summer, I was at a gun range in Clear Lake, Texas and a half-dozen people were wearing MAGA hats, including one of the Ranger Officers. Drive an hour north on the Gulf Freeway, into the Montrose neighborhood of Houston, and you'll find a much different dynamic.

And Clear Lake is by no means a small town, not compared to all those towns throughout Texas with 200 people and a gas station.

Because the divide is multifold. And impressively, nearly all of the separate attributes at play are polarized.

Probably because liberals and conservatives literally don't even live in the same places. Rarely cross paths.

There are two America's, same as ever. The countryside and the city. I've lived in both. And as I travel around America for this series, I see the delicate kingdoms of each.

So as I travel around from state to state, through all the different towns and cities, I feel the presence of Walt Whitman's great poem "America."

Centre of equal daughters, equal sons,
All, all alike endear'd, grown, ungrown, young or old,
Strong, ample, fair, enduring, capable, rich,Perennial with the Earth, with Freedom, Law and Love,
A grand, sane, towering, seated Mother,
Chair'd in the adamant of Time

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In 2016, a paltry 12 percent of Trump voters lived in urban areas, compared to Clinton's 32 percent. The numbers were basically flipped, with 35 percent of Trump voters in rural areas, compared to 19 percent of Clinton voters in rural areas.

This divide was even more dramatic along partisan lines.

As noted by Pew Research Center,

Virtually all validated voters with consistently liberal values voted for Clinton over Trump (95% to 2%), while nearly all those with consistently conservative values went for Trump (98% to less than 1% for Clinton).

So it makes sense that neither side would understand the other. Especially when you toss in a dose of American combativeness.

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In the words of Aristotle, "It is the mark of an educated mind to be able to entertain a thought without accepting it."

Which is not to say that Americans aren't of an educated mind, although it is something we have historically been sensitive about, particularly in relation to art and literature.

Rather, my point is that there are gradations of ignorance.

A continuum.

Some forms of ignorance are more forgivable than others. And a certain type of ignorance is not forgivable at all.

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Our hindrance, as Americans, is that we are — well, we are stubborn people. I've lived outside America, and traveled extensively. My father is Irish, and I have dual citizenship.

I will say that every country has problems. Unique problems.

As Americans, we tend to lean on convenience, even if we don't see it as a luxury. Which, let's be real, it totally is.

We take for granted that, when you're in public and you need to use a toilet, there's one nearby. And it's free. And clean.

Or showers. How often are we forced to take cold showers?

I know I'm doing a lot of generalizing here, but I've thought about it a lot, and it's all based on my desire to see Americans get along better. To rouse the humanity in all of us.

We Americans will always thrive with a pioneer spirit. A wildness. Rebels.

And Americans are undoubtedly some of the kindest, most generous people on earth.

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But we also tend to focus exclusively on ourselves, our country, our city, our town, our yard, our skyline. Which happens everywhere, yes, but not like here. More often, we can't even imagine the other worlds within our own country.

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Here's an exercise, if you're a born-and-bred American.

Name a dozen living world leaders. Now a dozen more.

Describe the Croatian flag, or the flag of any African country. Can you tell the difference between the Salvadorian flag and the flag of Argentina?

Sing a few national Anthems.

Revolutions or uprisings are currently taking place in the following countries or regions: Chile, Iran, Yemen, Egypt, Sudan, Hong Kong, Libya, Niger, Lebanon, Iraq, France, Puerto Rico, Haiti, you get the idea.

Because people in other countries know far more about America than we know about them. Which, at times, can be heart-breaking:

Protesters singing the American national anthem

Don't get me wrong, I probably got the same score on that little quiz as you did.

Probably lower, actually, as the folks who contact me about my stories have the most astute and insightful observations.

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Want to know the one thing we can all agree on as Americans? Cutting in line is unforgivable. Any sort of line. We learn this from a young age. Internalize it, collectively. If you ask us, we say that line-cutters deserve the great heat of an eternal hell!

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Real talk here. We're spoiled, and occasionally we act like it. Although, most of the time — say, while traveling abroad — we're so kind that we come off as naïve, which is charming when you think of it.

And most of all, we are big, in mind and heart and spirit. In the words of the great American poet Walt Whitman, we contain multitudes.

You'd never know it, but Americans comprise a mere 4 percent of the world's population.

And, look, I'm not here to trash America. I love our country.

And I find much of the criticisms of our country to be rooted in cowardice, even when they are legitimate.

More than a few times, in Spain or Germany, I listened to locals excoriate the States. While drinking a Coca-Cola, and wearing Levi's Jeans, and nodding their head to Bruce Springsteen, as the Simpsons plays on the TV and a Cormac McCarthy novel rests on their bookshelf.

Most people I've met abroad like America. And they love Americans.

They admire our weird, endless spirit.

Poet Theodore Roethke wrote, "What's freedom for?"

In readings of the poem, he lets the question hang in the air for a moment, then answers it with a bellow.

"To know eternity."

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Not only are we heartedly multicultural, our diversity is natural.

With regard to race and ethnicity, the U.S. usually occupies the middle of the chart.

But what's unique about the U.S. is that an American can be any race, ethnicity, sex, gender, age, color.

And this is our golden age.

You'd never know it, but Americans comprise a mere 4 percent of the world's population. Because, most of all, we are big, in mind and heart and spirit. To paraphrase Walt Whitman, we contain multitudes.

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Ask liberals to describe conservatives, and vice versa, and you'll find that both sides tend to depict the other in a ghoulishly inaccurate and unflattering way. Conservatives often see liberals as elitist, intolerant, self-important, and out-of-touch.

Whereas liberals see conservatives as dumb, intolerant, backwards, and out-of-touch.

Either way, it's a pretty bad way to start a conversation.

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We know the statistics by now. White voters accounted for 88 percent of the Trump vote. And far fewer Trump supporters were non-college whites.

More white women voted for Trump than for Clinton.

Of all the groups, Black women accounted for the fewest Trump votes, so few that its nearly statistically insignificant. In total, Trump got 6 percent of the Black vote.

A few things have changed since then. Specifically, Candace Owens and Kanye West.

I'll profile Owens in a later installment, for the last six months or so, I've been reporting on it. The vociferous, charming, and unbelievable 30-year-old woman at the helm of a strange new countercultural movement re-shaping America. She wears her MAGA hat when she travels, and she travels most days of the year.

She has led #Blexit, a movement geared at empowering the black community to vote Republican.

Kanye West, who was emboldened by Owen's unflinching style and bold words, regularly defends his support of Trump.

Those two events alone are bound to increase the number of Black Americans who vote for Trump in 2020.

I'll be at Kanye's performance in Houston on Sunday, at Joel Osteen's mega-church. And, about the time this story publishes, I'll be en route to Bossier City, Louisiana for my third Trump rally in as many weeks. And everywhere I travel for this series, I see the recurring qualities unique to our country.

Those two events alone are bound to increase the number of Black Americans who vote for Trump in 2020.

We Americans are generally honest people. We are straightforward yet empathetic. Just contrast general American English with general British English. We are cowboys and roughshod poets, they are royalty and cautious essayists.

In the introduction to this series, I described today's America, our America, as "a country that is — everywhere, secretly — hurting."

My aim, along the way, has been to scour for remedies. To posit whatever positivity I can. Like prayer in public, to tens of thousands of people every week.

As I see it, we will fix America by living out our most American ideals. By speaking from our spirit, no gimmickry or slogans or con men in the way.

We need truth. Its function is to guide us to redemption.

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The most insidious criticism of America comes from inside. It is much different than protest. Because America is a free country. We can express our beliefs and opinions how we like. That includes kneeling athletes and flag-defiling musicians. Dissent is allowed and patriotism is by no means required.

What I'm talking about is subtler. It can arise from any point on the political spectrum. Left, right, center. Even be apolitical. It embodies the unforgivable ignorance I mentioned above. People who spit at the world around them, lacking self-awareness, unaware of the privilege that comes with living in America. They've never left, never even tried. Yet they remain certain, until their opinions mutate into hatred, and only want to destroy. They deny humanity, they choose nihilism.

It's easy to be cynical about something you don't understand. Humanity is the realization that all of this has meaning. That every moment of life is charged with an existential purpose. That death is a life with no meaning.

This video makes the rounds every once in a while. It's meant to denounce the spirit of our country, to drain it of meaning, but just comes off as snotty and high-minded, which, to be fair, are trademarks of a quality Aaron Sorkin monologue.

All my life, my father, an immigrant, has told me that America is the greatest country in the world. Just look at the Democratic Presidential candidates. Andrew Yang's parents emigrated from Taiwan, he flourished, now he's running for President. Bernie Sanders, son of a man who fled Poland as a teenage high school drop-out with a poor grasp of English, is now also running for President. Or Pete Buttigieg, whose father emigrated from Malta in 1979. Kamala Harris' mother emigrated from India, her father from Jamaica.

In other words, seven immigrants, all from different continents, traveled to America with hope and their eyes, and now their children have a realistic chance of being the President of the country. From the bottom to the top, in one generation.That would be like if your parents emigrated to America from another country, worked hard, then you went on to become a realistic candidate for the most important job in the entire world. Now do that three more times.

Because there is nothing to compare it to.

It becomes all the more impressive the farther you zoom out.

Imagine taking a time machine back to Ancient Egypt and trying to make your way up the ladder so that your son could become Pharaoh. You'd zap into the sand and straight into slavery. Immediately. And your kids? Assuming you even had time for love, on account of all the pyramid building, slaves, also.

And even if you were somehow able to maneuver to the top, you could still die at any moment of some horrific, now-curable disease.

Or be poisoned by Cleopatra.

Or be "suicided" by Romans, never to be found.

Or just vanish, despite your being the Pharaoh.

Or be decapitated by your own father.

Or drown in the Nile.

Or lose your firstborn in a Biblical plague.

All of which were fates that Pharaohs actually suffered. And even the lucky Pharaohs, they didn't have air conditioning or cars or pizza delivery.

New installments of this series come out every Monday and Thursday morning. Check out my Twitter or email me at kryan@mercurystudios.com

What our response to Israel reveals about us

JOSEPH PREZIOSO / Contributor | Getty Images

I have been honored to receive the Defender of Israel Award from Prime Minister Netanyahu.

The Jerusalem Post recently named me one of the strongest Christian voices in support of Israel.

And yet, my support is not blind loyalty. It’s not a rubber stamp for any government or policy. I support Israel because I believe it is my duty — first as a Christian, but even if I weren’t a believer, I would still support her as a man of reason, morality, and common sense.

Because faith isn’t required to understand this: Israel’s existence is not just about one nation’s survival — it is about the survival of Western civilization itself.

It is a lone beacon of shared values in the Middle East. It is a bulwark standing against radical Islam — the same evil that seeks to dismantle our own nation from within.

And my support is not rooted in politics. It is rooted in something simpler and older than politics: a people’s moral and historical right to their homeland, and their right to live in peace.

Israel has that right — and the right to defend herself against those who openly, repeatedly vow her destruction.

Let’s make it personal: if someone told me again and again that they wanted to kill me and my entire family — and then acted on that threat — would I not defend myself? Wouldn’t you? If Hamas were Canada, and we were Israel, and they did to us what Hamas has done to them, there wouldn’t be a single building left standing north of our border. That’s not a question of morality.

That’s just the truth. All people — every people — have a God-given right to protect themselves. And Israel is doing exactly that.

My support for Israel’s right to finish the fight against Hamas comes after eighty years of rejected peace offers and failed two-state solutions. Hamas has never hidden its mission — the eradication of Israel. That’s not a political disagreement.

That’s not a land dispute. That is an annihilationist ideology. And while I do not believe this is America’s war to fight, I do believe — with every fiber of my being — that it is Israel’s right, and moral duty, to defend her people.

Criticism of military tactics is fair. That’s not antisemitism. But denying Israel’s right to exist, or excusing — even celebrating — the barbarity of Hamas? That’s something far darker.

We saw it on October 7th — the face of evil itself. Women and children slaughtered. Babies burned alive. Innocent people raped and dragged through the streets. And now, to see our own fellow citizens march in defense of that evil… that is nothing short of a moral collapse.

If the chants in our streets were, “Hamas, return the hostages — Israel, stop the bombing,” we could have a conversation.

But that’s not what we hear.

What we hear is open sympathy for genocidal hatred. And that is a chasm — not just from decency, but from humanity itself. And here lies the danger: that same hatred is taking root here — in Dearborn, in London, in Paris — not as horror, but as heroism. If we are not vigilant, the enemy Israel faces today will be the enemy the free world faces tomorrow.

This isn’t about politics. It’s about truth. It’s about the courage to call evil by its name and to say “Never again” — and mean it.

And you don’t have to open a Bible to understand this. But if you do — if you are a believer — then this issue cuts even deeper. Because the question becomes: what did God promise, and does He keep His word?

He told Abraham, “I will bless those who bless you, and curse those who curse you.” He promised to make Abraham the father of many nations and to give him “the whole land of Canaan.” And though Abraham had other sons, God reaffirmed that promise through Isaac. And then again through Isaac’s son, Jacob — Israel — saying: “The land I gave to Abraham and Isaac I give to you and to your descendants after you.”

That’s an everlasting promise.

And from those descendants came a child — born in Bethlehem — who claimed to be the Savior of the world. Jesus never rejected His title as “son of David,” the great King of Israel.

He said plainly that He came “for the lost sheep of the house of Israel.” And when He returns, Scripture says He will return as “the Lion of the tribe of Judah.” And where do you think He will go? Back to His homeland — Israel.

Tamir Kalifa / Stringer | Getty Images

And what will He find when He gets there? His brothers — or his brothers’ enemies? Will the roads where He once walked be preserved? Or will they lie in rubble, as Gaza does today? If what He finds looks like the aftermath of October 7th, then tell me — what will be my defense as a Christian?

Some Christians argue that God’s promises to Israel have been transferred exclusively to the Church. I don’t believe that. But even if you do, then ask yourself this: if we’ve inherited the promises, do we not also inherit the land? Can we claim the birthright and then, like Esau, treat it as worthless when the world tries to steal it?

So, when terrorists come to slaughter Israelis simply for living in the land promised to Abraham, will we stand by? Or will we step forward — into the line of fire — and say,

“Take me instead”?

Because this is not just about Israel’s right to exist.

It’s about whether we still know the difference between good and evil.

It’s about whether we still have the courage to stand where God stands.

And if we cannot — if we will not — then maybe the question isn’t whether Israel will survive. Maybe the question is whether we will.

When did Americans start cheering for chaos?

MATHIEU LEWIS-ROLLAND / Contributor | Getty Images

Every time we look away from lawlessness, we tell the next mob it can go a little further.

Chicago, Portland, and other American cities are showing us what happens when the rule of law breaks down. These cities have become openly lawless — and that’s not hyperbole.

When a governor declares she doesn’t believe federal agents about a credible threat to their lives, when Chicago orders its police not to assist federal officers, and when cartels print wanted posters offering bounties for the deaths of U.S. immigration agents, you’re looking at a country flirting with anarchy.

Two dangers face us now: the intimidation of federal officers and the normalization of soldiers as street police. Accept either, and we lose the republic.

This isn’t a matter of partisan politics. The struggle we’re watching now is not between Democrats and Republicans. It’s between good and evil, right and wrong, self‑government and chaos.

Moral erosion

For generations, Americans have inherited a republic based on law, liberty, and moral responsibility. That legacy is now under assault by extremists who openly seek to collapse the system and replace it with something darker.

Antifa, well‑financed by the left, isn’t an isolated fringe any more than Occupy Wall Street was. As with Occupy, big money and global interests are quietly aligned with “anti‑establishment” radicals. The goal is disruption, not reform.

And they’ve learned how to condition us. Twenty‑five years ago, few Americans would have supported drag shows in elementary schools, biological males in women’s sports, forced vaccinations, or government partnerships with mega‑corporations to decide which businesses live or die. Few would have tolerated cartels threatening federal agents or tolerated mobs doxxing political opponents. Yet today, many shrug — or cheer.

How did we get here? What evidence convinced so many people to reverse themselves on fundamental questions of morality, liberty, and law? Those long laboring to disrupt our republic have sought to condition people to believe that the ends justify the means.

Promoting “tolerance” justifies women losing to biological men in sports. “Compassion” justifies harboring illegal immigrants, even violent criminals. Whatever deluded ideals Antifa espouses is supposed to somehow justify targeting federal agents and overturning the rule of law. Our culture has been conditioned for this moment.

The buck stops with us

That’s why the debate over using troops to restore order in American cities matters so much. I’ve never supported soldiers executing civilian law, and I still don’t. But we need to speak honestly about what the Constitution allows and why. The Posse Comitatus Act sharply limits the use of the military for domestic policing. The Insurrection Act, however, exists for rare emergencies — when federal law truly can’t be enforced by ordinary means and when mobs, cartels, or coordinated violence block the courts.

Even then, the Constitution demands limits: a public proclamation ordering offenders to disperse, transparency about the mission, a narrow scope, temporary duration, and judicial oversight.

Soldiers fight wars. Cops enforce laws. We blur that line at our peril.

But we also cannot allow intimidation of federal officers or tolerate local officials who openly obstruct federal enforcement. Both extremes — lawlessness on one side and militarization on the other — endanger the republic.

The only way out is the Constitution itself. Protect civil liberty. Enforce the rule of law. Demand transparency. Reject the temptation to justify any tactic because “our side” is winning. We’ve already seen how fear after 9/11 led to the Patriot Act and years of surveillance.

KAMIL KRZACZYNSKI / Contributor | Getty Images

Two dangers face us now: the intimidation of federal officers and the normalization of soldiers as street police. Accept either, and we lose the republic. The left cannot be allowed to shut down enforcement, and the right cannot be allowed to abandon constitutional restraint.

The real threat to the republic isn’t just the mobs or the cartels. It’s us — citizens who stop caring about truth and constitutional limits. Anything can be justified when fear takes over. Everything collapses when enough people decide “the ends justify the means.”

We must choose differently. Uphold the rule of law. Guard civil liberties. And remember that the only way to preserve a government of, by, and for the people is to act like the people still want it.

This article originally appeared on TheBlaze.com.

In the quiet aftermath of a profound loss, the Christian community mourns the unexpected passing of Dr. Voddie Baucham, a towering figure in evangelical circles. Known for his defense of biblical truth, Baucham, a pastor, author, and theologian, left a legacy on family, faith, and opposing "woke" ideologies in the church. His book Fault Lines challenged believers to prioritize Scripture over cultural trends. Glenn had Voddie on the show several times, where they discussed progressive influences in Christianity, debunked myths of “Christian nationalism,” and urged hope amid hostility.

The shock of Baucham's death has deeply affected his family. Grieving, they remain hopeful in Christ, with his wife, Bridget, now facing the task of resettling in the US without him. Their planned move from Lusaka, Zambia, was disrupted when their home sale fell through last December, resulting in temporary Airbnb accommodations, but they have since secured a new home in Cape Coral that requires renovations. To ensure Voddie's family is taken care of, a fundraiser is being held to raise $2 million, which will be invested for ongoing support, allowing Bridget to focus on her family.

We invite readers to contribute prayerfully. If you feel called to support the Bauchams in this time of need, you can click here to donate.

We grieve and pray with hope for the Bauchams.

May Voddie's example inspire us.

Loneliness isn’t just being alone — it’s feeling unseen, unheard, and unimportant, even amid crowds and constant digital chatter.

Loneliness has become an epidemic in America. Millions of people, even when surrounded by others, feel invisible. In tragic irony, we live in an age of unparalleled connectivity, yet too many sit in silence, unseen and unheard.

I’ve been experiencing this firsthand. My children have grown up and moved out. The house that once overflowed with life now echoes with quiet. Moments that once held laughter now hold silence. And in that silence, the mind can play cruel games. It whispers, “You’re forgotten. Your story doesn’t matter.”

We are unique in our gifts, but not in our humanity. Recognizing this shared struggle is how we overcome loneliness.

It’s a lie.

I’ve seen it in others. I remember sitting at Rockefeller Center one winter, watching a woman lace up her ice skates. Her clothing was worn, her bag battered. Yet on the ice, she transformed — elegant, alive, radiant.

Minutes later, she returned to her shoes, merged into the crowd, unnoticed. I’ve thought of her often. She was not alone in her experience. Millions of Americans live unseen, performing acts of quiet heroism every day.

Shared pain makes us human

Loneliness convinces us to retreat, to stay silent, to stop reaching out to others. But connection is essential. Even small gestures — a word of encouragement, a listening ear, a shared meal — are radical acts against isolation.

I’ve learned this personally. Years ago, a caller called me “Mr. Perfect.” I could have deflected, but I chose honesty. I spoke of my alcoholism, my failed marriage, my brokenness. I expected judgment. Instead, I found resonance. People whispered back, “I’m going through the same thing. Thank you for saying it.”

Our pain is universal. Everyone struggles with self-doubt and fear. Everyone feels, at times, like a fraud. We are unique in our gifts, but not in our humanity. Recognizing this shared struggle is how we overcome loneliness.

We were made for connection. We were built for community — for conversation, for touch, for shared purpose. Every time we reach out, every act of courage and compassion punches a hole in the wall of isolation.

You’re not alone

If you’re feeling alone, know this: You are not invisible. You are seen. You matter. And if you’re not struggling, someone you know is. It’s your responsibility to reach out.

Loneliness is not proof of brokenness. It is proof of humanity. It is a call to engage, to bear witness, to connect. The world is different because of the people who choose to act. It is brighter when we refuse to be isolated.

We cannot let silence win. We cannot allow loneliness to dictate our lives. Speak. Reach out. Connect. Share your gifts. By doing so, we remind one another: We are all alike, and yet each of us matters profoundly.

In this moment, in this country, in this world, what we do matters. Loneliness is real, but so is hope. And hope begins with connection.

This article originally appeared on TheBlaze.com.