If you can't sing, whistle. But do something.
The American resistance to Trumpism is emerging, but it requires full engagement
If you can’t sing the hymn, make music some other way. Likewise, do what you can for America. (Photo by Michael Maasen on Unsplash)
Let me tell you, first, about Lirt Bolt, which is not the name of a company that manufactures steel fasteners and locks, though that would be a reasonable guess. No, Lirt Bolt was a guy I never knew, but whose simple habit so impressed my father that you’re reading about it today, some 90 years later.
Born in Virginia in the 1880s to a family with a dozen children, Lirt lived most of his life in a tiny central Indiana town called Lapel. About a dozen years before I was born, my dad became the young minister of the church in Lapel where Lirt Bolt was a regular Sunday presence.
Decades later, my dad told me about his arrival in Lapel, and why Lirt stood out: Hymns were a major part of the worship service, but Lirt could not sing. Mind you, only about 1.5 percent of the world’s population actually can’t hear differences in pitch, tone and rhythm, a result of what scientists call congenital amusia. Lirt wasn’t in that category, but he insisted that his voice was awful. Still, he didn’t want to miss the joyful experience of joining in the congregation’s music-making. So he whistled.
Lirt whistled in church in an era when churchgoers tended to sing the old hymns enthusiastically, if not always melodically. But above all the voices raised in renditions of “Holy, Holy, Holy,” say, or “Onward, Christian Soldiers,” folks in that little Indiana church could hear Lirt Bolt whistling the tune. He was a good whistler, my dad recalled.
Lirt thus created a real-life parable for everybody who witnessed what he did, underscoring by his example that each person could contribute in their own way to the shared experience of worship. So what if he couldn’t sing? Lirt Bolt did his part to make a joyful noise.
It’s a story that has lingered in the recesses of my memory, emerging somehow this week as signs emerged of growing resistance to the Trump administration’s radical wrecking-ball approach to American government and civil society. At a time when we need the strength of millions to counter the malevolence of a powerful leader and his minions, it’s appealing to consider the story of a guy who found his own way to participate in something he considered important. It’s what we each need as we scout around to find our answer to Trumpism.
In his final novel, The Brothers Karamazov, the Russian writer Fyodor Dostoevsky writes, “Everyone is responsible to everyone for everything.” The line is engraved in the entry hall of the International Red Cross and Red Crescent Museum in Geneva, a reminder of the moral imperative to care for the beings who share the planet with us.1
Donald Trump’s harsh rhetoric and the brutal acts that have marked his return to the presidency make this much clear: The notion that we share a responsibility for each other is antithetical to Trumpism. A fundamental selfishness underlies decisions by the earth’s richest nation to pull back from projects it had committed to uphold — with a miniscule fraction of its wealth — to help save millions of people from starvation, for example, and to help shield the world from the worst effects of human-caused climate change. There is cruelty in the administration’s attacks on transgender youth, a lack of respect for the law in its unconstitutional exercise of executive authority and a sloppy disregard for human consequences in the manipulation of economic policy to match one man’s ignorant whims.
Dostoevsky’s words on responsibility reflect his religious faith as a devout Russian Orthodox Christian, but all the world’s major religions have similar expectations of believers: They demand kindness as a character trait and care for the poor as a priority of society, and they assert that humans deserve justice and fairness. Those imperatives clearly conflict with Trump administration directives, a fact that’s sadly irrelevant to a lot of Americans who claim to be people of faith — notably, adherents of evangelical Christianity, which is now less a religious movement than a political cult.
Trump’s sanctimony is a fraud, as many nonpartisan believers have noted. Citing scripture, Pope Francis has characterized Trump as “not Christian,” and has called his massive plan to deport migrants a “disgrace.” But scripture matters less to believers in the Church of Trump than, say, the so-called Law of Responsibility, which states that we are each solely responsible for everything we are, have and achieve. That sense of self-reliance appeals to those who see aid to the poor, support for racial minorities and comfort for immigrants as rewards for laziness, and view U.S. pledges to protect foreign allies as expensive distractions from Trump’s declared America First plan.
One of the honored sages in Jewish history, Rabbi Tarfon, who lived 19 centuries ago, explained the imperative to action that arises from Jewish law. “It is not your responsibility to finish the work of perfecting the world,” he wrote, “but you are not free to desist from it, either.”2
To many of us, the task of bettering the world seems further from our grasp now than at any point in our lifetimes. Every day’s news carries more reports of outrages committed at Trump’s decree: people being investigated, threatened and deported because of something they said or believe; federal programs aimed at improving Americans’ health and safety being abandoned; efforts to assure that justice is applied evenly regardless of race, sex or national origin being virtually criminalized; families’ financial security being nearly wiped out due to the president’s sophomoric approach to the economy.
We’re buffeted by this onslaught of immoral acts, and it all threatens to overwhelm us. We are in only the opening weeks of the Trump administration, after all; there’s plenty of time for things to get worse before we’ll have much of a chance to make them get better.
Yet there are plenty of people who are even now taking on the task of resisting Trump, reflecting Rabbi Tarfon’s view: while it’s not our job to fix everything, we must do what we can to make a difference. Like Lirt Bolt, the non-singer who found his own way to make music, we need to each undertake the work of citizenship that is within our reach.
A lot of us are groping for a response that might be equal to the breadth of Trump’s assault. David Brooks, the eminent New York Times columnist who has rather outgrown his conservatism in the Trump era, this week opined that what we need is “a comprehensive national civic uprising” in “one coordinated mass movement” that can counter the president.
“Trump is about power,” he wrote. “The only way he’s going to be stopped is if he’s confronted by some movement that possesses rival power.” And to create that, Brooks suggests, we need “one coordinating body that does the work of coalition building.”3
Fine. And where might that coordination begin? Brooks offered no ideas.
I think it can only emerge organically, from the seeds planted by individuals. Consider some of the ways that ordinary Americans are already doing what they can to make a difference.
Earlier this month, more than 3 million Americans showed up at rallies in more than 1,300 communities across the country to sound off against the Trump administration. The success of those demonstrations has inspired organizers, so this weekend there are more events planned in what’s called the 50501 movement — which stands for “50 states, 50 protests, 1 movement.” Simply showing up is, in these instances, an act of patriotism.
Meanwhile, some heroes are finally emerging from Trump’s demand for money and submission from the legal establishment, and responding to his effort to humiliate and reshape higher education. A few big law firms are resisting the bullying that has prompted some firms to promise Trump hundreds of millions of dollars of free legal work. And Harvard has set a standard for resistance in the face of Trump’s threats to ruin higher education, fraudulently touted under the guise of combatting anti-Semitism.
Some noted conservatives are speaking out against Trumpism, and a number of judges are standing up to insist on the rule of law even as Trump seems eager to provoke a constitutional crisis by ignoring their rulings.
Finally, let’s not overlook what we might call the spiritual leaders of the resistance, including Bishop Mariann Edgar Budde, who had the audacity during a prayer service in January to implore the president to be merciful, and Cory Booker, whose 25-hour speech on the first day of this month turned the Senate floor into an unlikely scene of moral resolve.
These visible players draw news coverage, and they can inspire others to stand up for the principles of our democracy that Trump has put at risk. But the groundswell that Brooks suggests we need awaits the action of millions of people — and that’s where we all come in.
We need to bear in mind the words of Edward Everett Hale, the influential 19th-century writer and clergyman, a potent advocate of the anti-slavery cause, who urged his countrymen to join in the campaign. “I am only one, but I am one,” he wrote. “I cannot do everything, but I can do something. And because I cannot do everything, I will not refuse to do the something that I can do.” 4
When we stand up for not-for-profit organizations doing good work in our communities — with financial support or volunteer hours — we are bucking the destructiveness of Trumpism. Increasingly, the well-being of Americans is being protected not by their government, but by the likes of the ACLU, Planned Parenthood, Earthjustice, and Habitat for Humanity. Here’s how we make a difference: Find at least one group making a difference on an issue you care about, and do what you can to help.
Too, we need to support the organizations contributing to our quality of life that are now at risk due to federal budget slashing. Arts groups, humanities councils, social service charities and schools all are facing unprecedented financial pressure. In many cases, it will take a resurgence of small-scale donors to save these services.
One more place to turn: We must step up to combat Trump’s ongoing assault on journalism. Local news organizations that care about our communities are reeling from financial losses caused by the digital revolution, and also from Trump’s assault on the very idea of independent journalism. If you aren’t a subscriber to the truth-tellers in your community, you should become one today.
And, of course, we must continue to apply pressure to our elected representatives, to insist that they stand up to Trump’s ego-fueled grab for power.
Of course, even if we do all of these things, Trumpism isn’t going to crumple anytime soon. But in whatever way we can, we can each make a difference in the resistance. If we can’t donate, we can volunteer; if we can’t do direct action, we can be advocates.
It’s the lesson of old Lirt Bolt, who whistled because he couldn’t sing: He could still be a part of the music. Likewise, we all must be a part of the effort, and make sure that we, too, are heard.
https://www.glad.org/every-one-us-can-something/
https://coffeeshoprabbi.com/2015/02/10/meet-rabbi-tarfon/
https://www.nytimes.com/2025/04/17/opinion/trump-harvard-law-firms.html
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Edward_Everett_Hale
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ENDNOTE
THANK YOU for reading The Upstate American, and for joining us in the conversation about our common ground, this great country. As we together navigate these challenging times, I hope you’ll join us again next week — or send me a message with ideas you’d like to see us address.
-Rex Smith
We must all rise.
Hear, hear! We must all do what we can, no matter how insignificant it may seem. One drop of water in a pond creates a ripple; each act of caring and compassion, and courage inspires other people to do the same.