Call me a masochist, but I have managed to read in succession Agnes Newton Keith’s account of her life in a Japanese prison camp and Wladyslaw [The Pianist] Szpilman’s account of life in the Warsaw Ghetto. Their stories have made me acutely aware that the only thing that stands between me and the worst instincts of mankind are laws — intangible, invisible laws, laws established by the state and laws like compassion, courtesy, and cooperation established by ethics and religion.

We think we live in Fortress America, but our fortress is only as strong as the laws that protect us. Laws that target the vulnerable, dismantle democracy, consign women to second-class citizenship, abet gun violence, ban books, and gut public education threaten our fortress. We’re all familiar with Martin Niemoeller’s poem that begins, “First they came for the Communists, and I didn’t say anything because I wasn’t a Communist …” and ends, “And when they came for me, there was no one left to say anything.”

I have little interest in transgender issues, no wish to see a drag show, and scant patience with pronoun-sensitivity, but attacks on the marginalized don’t remain with the marginalized, and none of us is safe unless all of us are safe. Incipient fascism may not be an imminent threat in Massachusetts, and many other states have, thankfully, made progress in opposing laws and lawmakers that would foster it, but too many states are rushing to pass discriminatory and anti-democratic legislation while hoping to take it to the federal level. Accepting his Kennedy Center award, Jon Stewart told us not to fear the pronoun police, but rather the secret police. The chilling narratives of Keith and Szpilman have given that warning greater urgency in my mind. Truly, the bell tolls for all of us.

Kathe Geist

Charlemont

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