November 6th has been a very strange day.
Humans around the world are waking up and seeing the results of the vote of millions, both action and inaction. There is elation, fear, despair, hope, and anger; a whole spectrum of emotions both felt by and inexperienced by many. Many worry that they may be killed, left by the wayside as a political casualty. Some are indifferent, whether from despair or ignorance.
This letter is for all of them, for it is every person within a nation that makes up its character.
As a presidential republic, this nation has gone through, and is going towards, some troubling times. Diversion and strife abound rock the weary boat that we have all been riding. It is both taking on water and floating as strong as ever, navigating a course to a shining beacon or a heavy fog. Calls of mutiny and
violence keep sailors up at night, wondering if it’s their last.
This fear of collapse and dissolution is powerful, and not unfounded in the many eyes around the world. It is a fight ever constant, in every ship that sails the sea of history.
Yet fear is also blinding. It causes those who swim in it to lose sight of avenues that offer not only positive change, but hope. It is far too easy to hide when your fears are realized, then to take a moment to recognize the next step forward.
The worst one can do is go silent, and take the path of inaction. The second worst thing is to blindly act in fear and cause more harm than good. So, for the humans that reside in this nation, what should they do? What can they do, if the next major action they can take is in 2026?
Individually, very little. One person alone can not guide a ship this large without it shattering against the rocks. But as a crew, you may be able to avoid the worst of the stones and come through stronger than before. Find those that need allies. Take time to learn the struggles of others. Your family and your neighbors, those that you live with or reside nearby, they can be both your
strongest sails and your hardest oars. Strangers can become friends, and friends can become allies. Education is key, for how can one learn to row if they are never taught to hold a oar?
If those close to you are unwilling, or too blinded, do what you can to find islands of safety within your own life. Not everyone can be on the top deck of the ship, rigging sails and navigating the stormy sea. There needs to be sailors in reserve, those that make themselves ready to step up when others need breaks. And they will need breaks, for this is a voyage that will take longer than your lifetime, and the lifetimes of those after you.
Understand that as a nation, you are not alone. Both those who reside within, and those who are sailors in other ships are watching. Some may even choose to join your crew, either by choice or defection. Do not discredit their efforts, nor their hopes and dreams. The ones that have experienced the most trying
storms can be the ones to guide the safest voyages, for their history gives them strength.
This is not an easy task, keeping a ship this large from running aground. Nothing worth fighting for ever is.
This letter may not be the most coherent, nor the most well written. It is not meant to be. At the end of the day, the sun will set, the moon will rise and fall, and the sun will once again rise above the stormy ocean waves. But if there is one thing that this stranger hopes you take away from this letter, it is the following:
Do you truly understand how the other human feels?
Choose to do so, and you may find this “more perfect union” to be more within reach then you once believed. Abandon it, and the ship will be dashed along the rocks and sink to the bottom of history.
Stay safe. But do not be silent.
Disclaimer: This work is an unedited opinion article authored by Sean Slusarz. The content does not necessarily reflect the personal views of The NJIT Vector or its members.
