Over the past few months, Glenn has heard a lot of talk about national divorce, a great reset, or even civil war coming from both the Right and the Left. Glenn lays out in blunt terms why that “must NEVER be considered.”
Transcript
Below is a rush transcript that may contain errors
GLENN: People are throwing around things like national divorce.
People are saying, let it all burn! We need a great reset. As if we're talking about a new season of television. But we are not. Let me be very, very clear of what we are talking about. That must never be considered.
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Ten seconds.
(music)
I want to hit this early, before this becomes a trend.
Because the algorithms will reward talk like this!
National divorce.
You know, Civil War. Et cetera, et cetera.
We're not talking about a season of television, that you watch from your home, when you're talking about things like that.
We're talking about your life. Your -- your ordinary, miraculous, taken for granted life ending.
Everything you grew up knowing, believing, in, having -- having the opportunity to have, be, do, over!
It won't change. It ends!
That's what Civil War means!
The world your children expect to grow up in.
The one with school plays and Little League. And the birthday parties in the backyard. Gone!
And it doesn't come back with an election or a speech or a victory parade.
It doesn't come back at all. This is very fragile. This has never been done. A government with of, for, and by the people.
Has never been done before.
And I don't know if you've noticed this, but the entire world system systems to be against people, that want to rule themselves!
So it doesn't come back!
Civil War is not, you know, Gettysburg reenactors with quotes on social media.
It's neighbors!
It's culled sacks. It's the grocery store. And the gas station.
And the pharmacy.
It's the lights you never think about. Until they don't turn on. The water you never worry about. Until it comes out brown.
If it comes out at all.
I need you before things get crazier than they are, I want you to be firm on what you believe.
I want you to picture, not for shock. But for absolute clarity. Your day begins. And your bank app says, service unavailable.
Your ATM says, out of cash. The trucks have stopped coming to the grocery stores, because the highways have checkpoints and ambushes and rumors of both.
The gas station is a rumor too. One station has a line that is three blocks long. The other has a hand-lettered sign that says, cash only. Limit five gallons. You think, well, I've got some cash, until you realize, everybody else had that same idea, yesterday!
You must have a prescription for somebody in your family. Insulin, heart meds, chemo, whatever it is.
The pharmacy is closed. Why?
Because the pharmacist couldn't make it through the roadblocks. And the chain's distribution centers can't risk sending a truck without a police escort. And the police don't escort trucks anymore!
Because the police that do show up for work now, are triaging their own neighborhoods!
You call 911 about a domestic disturbance down the street. And the dispatcher says, if anybody even answers, we'll put you on the list. These aren't front lines in a modern Civil War. They are the intersections. They are our neighborhoods. They are the algorithms. The algorithm that sells rage by the pound! And it's being fed to both sides until both sides are blind with rage!
When the governor -- person running, Spanberger, running for Virginia, for the governor says, let your rage fuel you. No!
Rage will make you blind!
And we won't be fighting in uniform!
You'll be avoiding a rumor. The rules of the road become rules of the rifle.
Whoever controls the intersection controls that day!
Hospitals are now fortresses. Then targets.
Then shells.
Food becomes scarce. Then it's currency. Your children's school becomes a shelter. Do they even have school anymore?
No, your children now have memories of school and a new job of staying quiet when they hear a drone or a truck backfire. Childhood shrinks down to the safest room in your house.
Now, you think you're going to pick a side. You think you know what side you'll be on.
You think your side will protect you. But here's the truth: Sides protect themselves.
And both sides will ask you to prove your loyalty with things you promised yourself you would never, ever do.
Good people, just like you, will do them.
Because fear is a sculpture, and it carves away at conscience first. You think you know how the market works, until the market dies.
Markets die when trust dies. Pensions evaporate, not because of a bad quarter, but because the bond market can't price what's coming tomorrow!
The currency on your counter is now canned food. Bottled water, diesel, antibiotics. Your home value.
What's a house worth if there's nobody to ensure it? Nobody to mortgage it. Nobody to drive to it, without risking their life. And then there are the guests who are arrive when a great house is on fire. The cartels, the opportunists, the foreign intelligence services, the war tourists with passports and GoPros. They don't choose sides. They just choose opportunities and openings, and they open the opportunities you didn't know you had. Your grid, your water plants, your data center, your port, and they don't fly flags, they fly yours.
And then let you blame one another, to fuel the fire. Let your rage know, don't! Listen to me. There's no clean ending to this.
No, there's, there's -- there's no clean Gettysburg. Especially in a world of encrypted chats and weaponized rumors, there is just grinding. Bone-grinding pain.
There's the settling of old scores under new slogans. There's the permanent loss of innocence.
The moment you stop seeing your neighbor as a neighbor, that can never quite -- that you can never quite unsee the enemy that you have imagined.
I can't ever think of that person, any way other than that. Then you are headed for that outcome.
And if you imagine glory, war doesn't wound bodies. It wounds time. Ten years from now, the men and women who survive will still hear the sound of a truck at night and think checkpoint. Your children will flinch at fireworks. Weddings will be smaller. Funerals will be more frequent.
And hope -- real hope will be spoken in a whisper because it's learned to hide.
It is reasonable to ask what do we have in common anymore? But the next reasonable question is: How can we find common ground? How can we understand each other?
Before you retweet bravado, count the cost of where we could be headed.
And not in abstract numbers, but in faces. The old man on your street who needs oxygen, the single mom who works at night.
The kid who just made the team.
The clerk at the corner store, always remembers your brand, your face, your needs.
These are the casualties that -- that never make the headlines, because they disappear, one inconvenience at a time.
These are the times that try men's souls. That used to be a phrase, I didn't understand it. And it belonged in the past.
I say it to you today!
These are the times that try men's souls.
Those who stand today and shoulder the burden, who those stand today, and do the hard work, God's work of love and peace making. And uniting. And speaking the truth!
They will be owed a thanks for generations to come.
Turn town the algorithm and turn up the conversation.
Teach your children the difference between courage and recklessness!
Between justice and vengeance!
Make your county and your town resilient.
So relationally thick, that an outside arsonist. Foreign or domestic, will only find damp tinder there.
You must get serious about peace. Not the sentimental kind.
The muscular kind. Form covenants with churches and synagogues and community groups and clubs and counsels. And say it out loud. No violence in our name. It's not acceptable.
Not here. Not here.
