Skip to content
Search

Latest Stories

Follow Us:
Top Stories

We are not helpless

Opinion

Come and Take It flag

A man waves a a "Come and Take It" flag in support of military-style semi-automatic weapon ownership during a 2021 anti-vaccination protest in Los Angeles.

David McNew/AFP via Getty Images

Liu is CEO and co-founder of Citizen University.

Last week I was at Disneyland with my daughter. When you’re there, it’s like a dream — a time-distorting swirl of people and sound and color. But as in a dream, certain details lodge in waking memory. One that has stuck in my mind is a burly young white father, ambling outside Fantasyland, wearing a T-shirt with a silhouette of a semiautomatic rifle and the words "Come and take it." This was days after Buffalo, and days before Uvalde.

This was, in short, just another day in America. But the reason that man and his T-shirt and his child stuck with me is that he felt it was utterly normal to wear such a shirt. In a way, it was.


"Come and take it" is the slogan of gun-rights absolutists who think any effort to promote gun responsibility and safety is a tyrannical assault on their liberty that must be met with … assault rifles. It is defiant and petulant. It is threatening. And though it tries to project strength and bravado, it betrays deep weakness and sickness. In the guns debate, only one is armed to the teeth. Yet that side acts as if it is cornered, helpless, has nowhere else to turn.

Cornered, helpless, nowhere else to turn is how those students and teachers in Texas felt yesterday and those grocery shoppers in New York felt last week. Cornered, helpless, nowhere to turn is how so many of us today feel about the national epidemic of gun violence — about the diseased state of our norms, the comatose state of our democratic institutions.

But we are not in fact helpless.

This morning I met with a group of high school students from the West Side and South Side of Chicago. Black and brown, from neighborhoods that lack grocery stores, well-paved streets, youth development programs, job opportunities. They have reason to be as angry and defiant and petulant as that Disneyland man. They have reason to be cynical about how much attention gets paid to mass shootings and school shootings when 19 shot to death is a routine, overlooked two-week tally in Chicago.

They were, instead, compassionate and purposeful. They felt for the families and neighbors of Buffalo and Uvalde even as they feel for their own families and neighbors. They want more voice, in their school and in their city. They are learning to organize and advocate. They spoke of the need for better laws on guns and better policies on mental health. They spoke as much of the need for better norms. The world does not expect or allow them to be full human beings with deep potential and wide interests. Still, they keep pushing to be their full selves. They feel most powerful, they said, when they are keeping the peace, standing up for others, calling out injustice, organizing protest, figuring out who decides things and making them listen. They are redefining what it means to be age 17 on the West Side — what people expect of you and what you expect of yourself.

None of us is powerless right now because all of us can change the culture of our community. That man in the "Come and take it" T-shirt is doing his best to change the culture, to shift the boundaries of what is normal and OK in public life.

We can do as those Chicago Public School students do, and commit to setting a different kind of example. We can learn from Sari Kaufman, a member of CU’s Civic Collaboratory and one of the survivors of the 2018 Parkland gun massacre: she didn’t just become a leader of the March for Our Lives movement; she created a project called MyVote to connect young people to local elections because she learned the hard way that change in this country comes from the local outward and the bottom up.

It is hard, when we are flooded by grief and numbed by death, to exercise civic imagination. But this is when we need it most. There is a different society to be had. One in which a teenager like the Texas shooter, a kid with a lisp and a stutter, isn’t bullied and shunned, doesn’t withdraw, doesn’t have easier access to firearms than to friends or counselors or opportunities to thrive. One in which gun owners, the day after, the minute after a massacre, do not harden their hearts and double down on talking points about "politicizing" guns but instead imagine what it’d be like to be there and then become the champions of responsible reforms. One in which people young and old recognize that the more we dehumanize each other the more we will kill each other and live in fear of being killed. One in which we are a strong people, able to integrate power and character, who don’t wait for strong leaders but in fact lead our leaders.

That is the society that every person I work with is trying to create. That is the culture we at Citizen University are trying to foster. It is what is in your power to make, at every scale from neighborhood to nation.

Come and build it.

This article was first published by Citizen University.

Read More

Varying speech bubbles.​ Dialogue. Conversations.

Examining the 2025 episodes that challenged democratic institutions and highlighted the stakes for truth, accountability, and responsible public leadership.

Getty Images, DrAfter123

Why I Was ‘Diagnosed’ With Trump Derangement Syndrome

After a year spent writing columns about President Donald Trump, a leader who seems intent on testing every norm, value, and standard of decency that supports our democracy, I finally did what any responsible citizen might do: I went to the doctor to see if I had "Trump Derangement Syndrome."

I told my doctor about my symptoms: constant worry about cruelty in public life, repeated anger at attacks on democratic institutions, and deep anxiety over leaders who treat Americans as props or enemies. After running tests, he gave me his diagnosis with a straight face: "You are, indeed, highly focused on abnormal behavior. But standing up for what is right is excellent for your health and essential for the health of the country."

Keep ReadingShow less
After the Ceasefire, the Violence Continues – and Cries for New Words

An Israeli army vehicle moves on the Israeli side, near the border with the Gaza Strip on November 18, 2025 in Southern Israel, Israel.

(Photo by Amir Levy/Getty Images)

After the Ceasefire, the Violence Continues – and Cries for New Words

Since October 10, 2025, the day when the US-brokered ceasefire between Israel and Hamas was announced, Israel has killed at least 401 civilians, including at least 148 children. This has led Palestinian scholar Saree Makdisi to decry a “continuing genocide, albeit one that has shifted gears and has—for now—moved into the slow lane. Rather than hundreds at a time, it is killing by twos and threes” or by twenties and thirties as on November 19 and November 23 – “an obscenity that has coalesced into a new normal.” The Guardian columnist Nesrine Malik describes the post-ceasefire period as nothing more than a “reducefire,” quoting the warning issued by Amnesty International’s secretary general Agnès Callamard that the ”world must not be fooled” into believing that Israel’s genocide is over.

A visual analysis of satellite images conducted by the BBC has established that since the declared ceasefire, “the destruction of buildings in Gaza by the Israeli military has been continuing on a huge scale,” entire neighborhoods “levelled” through “demolitions,” including large swaths of farmland and orchards. The Guardian reported already in March of 2024, that satellite imagery proved the “destruction of about 38-48% of tree cover and farmland” and 23% of Gaza’s greenhouses “completely destroyed.” Writing about the “colossal violence” Israel has wrought on Gaza, Palestinian legal scholar Rabea Eghbariah lists “several variations” on the term “genocide” which researchers found the need to introduce, such as “urbicide” (the systematic destruction of cities), “domicide” (systematic destruction of housing), “sociocide,” “politicide,” and “memoricide.” Others have added the concepts “ecocide,” “scholasticide” (the systematic destruction of Gaza’s schools, universities, libraries), and “medicide” (the deliberate attacks on all aspects of Gaza’s healthcare with the intent to “wipe out” all medical care). It is only the combination of all these “-cides,” all amounting to massive war crimes, that adequately manages to describe the Palestinian condition. Constantine Zurayk introduced the term “Nakba” (“catastrophe” in Arabic) in 1948 to name the unparalleled “magnitude and ramifications of the Zionist conquest of Palestine” and its historical “rupture.” When Eghbariah argues for “Nakba” as a “new legal concept,” he underlines, however, that to understand its magnitude, one needs to go back to the 1917 Balfour Declaration, in which the British colonial power promised “a national home for the Jewish people” in Palestine, even though just 6 % of its population were Jewish. From Nakba as the “constitutive violence of 1948,” we need today to conceptualize “Nakba as a structure,” an “overarching frame.”

Keep ReadingShow less
Ukraine, Russia, and the Dangerous Metaphor of Holding the Cards
a hand holding a deck of cards in front of a christmas tree
Photo by Luca Volpe on Unsplash

Ukraine, Russia, and the Dangerous Metaphor of Holding the Cards

Donald Trump has repeatedly used the phrase “holding the cards” during his tenure as President to signal that he, or sometimes an opponent, has the upper hand. The metaphor projects bravado, leverage, and the inevitability of success or failure, depending on who claims control.

Unfortunately, Trump’s repeated invocation of “holding the cards” embodies a worldview where leverage, bluff, and dominance matter more than duty, morality, or responsibility. In contrast, leadership grounded in duty emphasizes ethical obligations to allies, citizens, and democratic principles—elements strikingly absent from this metaphor.

Keep ReadingShow less
Beyond Apologies: Corporate Contempt and the Call for Real Accountability
campbells chicken noodle soup can

Beyond Apologies: Corporate Contempt and the Call for Real Accountability

Most customers carry a particular image of Campbell's Soup: the red-and-white label stacked on a pantry shelf, a touch of nostalgia, and the promise of a dependable bargain. It's food for snow days, tight budgets, and the middle of the week. For generations, the brand has positioned itself as a companion to working families, offering "good food" for everyday people. The company cultivated that trust so thoroughly that it became almost cliché.

Campbell's episode, now the subject of national headlines and an ongoing high-profile legal complaint, is troubling not only for its blunt language but for what it reveals about the hidden injuries that erode the social contract linking institutions to citizens, workers to workplaces, and brands to buyers. If the response ends with the usual PR maneuvers—rapid firings and the well-rehearsed "this does not reflect our values" statement. Then both the lesson and the opportunity for genuine reform by a company or individual are lost. To grasp what this controversy means for the broader corporate landscape, we first have to examine how leadership reveals its actual beliefs.

Keep ReadingShow less