To Stop The Coup, We Must Be Clear About The Truth: Two Plus Two Equals Four
In George Orwell’s Nineteen Eighty-Four, the ultimate act of rebellion comes when Winston Smith insists that two plus two equals four, defying a system that demands he accept whatever reality the Party declares. The Party doesn’t just want him to say two plus two equals five—they want him to believe it. This demand that citizens deny obvious truth isn’t just about controlling specific facts; it’s about breaking their capacity to think clearly about reality itself.
Today, Americans face our own version of this test. A coup is underway in plain sight, yet acknowledging this basic truth has become its own act of resistance. In just the past few days, we’ve watched Elon Musk gain control of Treasury payment systems while security officials who followed classification protocols were removed. Career civil servants are being systematically purged for having complied with previous legal requirements. Congressionally established agencies are being illegally shuttered. The president openly declares he won’t enforce laws he dislikes.
Just as the Party in 1984 demands Winston deny the evidence of his own eyes, we’re being asked to accept increasingly absurd explanations for what we’re witnessing. We’re told this is about “government efficiency” when it’s clearly about seizing control of state power. We’re asked to believe that dismantling civil service protections somehow serves democratic interests. We’re expected to accept that private citizens can gain unauthorized access to classified systems in the name of “reform.”
The parallel to Orwell’s warning becomes even clearer when we examine how this denial works. It’s not just about specific lies—it’s about creating a system where truth itself becomes impossible to maintain. When every violation of constitutional governance is treated as a separate incident, when each breach of democratic norms is analyzed in isolation, we lose the ability to see the pattern that makes the reality clear: This is a coordinated effort to dismantle constitutional democracy itself.
Consider how this reality distortion operates in real-time: When Elon Musk illegally shuts down USAID, defenders of this action claim the agency serves “at the pleasure of the president.” This argument asks us to ignore the basic reality that USAID was established by congressional statute—specifically, the Foreign Assistance Act of 1961 signed into law by President Kennedy. This isn’t a matter of interpretation or political perspective—it’s as clear as the fact that two plus two equals four. Congress passed a law creating an independent agency. That law remains in force. The president cannot legally shut it down through executive whim any more than he could unilaterally abolish the Environmental Protection Agency or the Department of Education.
Yet just as the Party in 1984 demands Winston deny the evidence of his own eyes, we’re being asked to accept an argument that fundamentally contradicts statutory reality. This isn’t just wrong as a matter of law—it represents an attack on the very concept of law itself. If we accept that the president can unilaterally shut down congressionally established agencies, then congressional power to establish agencies becomes meaningless. If executive authority can override clear statutory mandates, then our entire system of checks and balances collapses.
This is precisely how democratic breakdown occurs—not just through the violation of laws, but through the corruption of the very language and concepts we use to understand law. When we accept arguments that two plus two equals five—that presidents can simply ignore congressional statutes at will—we’re not just making a legal error. We’re participating in the dismantling of constitutional order itself.
This same distortion of reality appears in how the administration justifies removing civil servants. Career officials who followed legally required protocols—whether attending mandatory training or protecting classified information—are being purged under the pretense of “efficiency” and “reform.” Just as with USAID, we’re being asked to believe that following the law is somehow grounds for punishment. This isn’t just a violation of civil service protections established by the Pendleton Act and strengthened after Watergate—it’s an attempt to make us doubt whether laws mean anything at all.
The pattern becomes even more stark when we examine how DOGE gained access to Treasury payment systems. The fundamental reality is simple: Private citizens cannot legally access sensitive government financial systems without proper authority and clearance. This is as basic as two plus two equals four. Yet we’re asked to accept that somehow these basic security protocols don’t apply when the private citizens in question are powerful enough. The argument isn’t just that they can break the rules—it’s that the rules themselves don’t exist if enough power is brought to bear against them.
Consider how this reality distortion compounds itself: When security officials at USAID tried to protect classified information—doing exactly what the law requires them to do—they were removed from their positions. The message isn’t subtle: Following the law is now treated as an act of resistance. Just as Winston Smith’s insistence on mathematical truth became rebellion in 1984, today simply maintaining that laws mean what they say has become a revolutionary act.
This manipulation extends even to how we discuss resistance itself. When critics point out these clear violations of law, they’re accused of being partisan or alarmist. The very act of naming reality—of insisting that two plus two equals four—is treated as somehow radical or extreme. This isn’t just about specific violations of law anymore; it’s about breaking our collective ability to recognize and respond to the dismantling of constitutional governance.
The denial of reality becomes even more dangerous when we look at international affairs. Consider Trump’s imposition of tariffs on Canada under the pretense of addressing fentanyl trafficking—a justification that bears no relationship to reality, as minimal fentanyl comes from Canada. Yet we’re asked to accept this obvious fiction as legitimate grounds for emergency powers. Just as we’re expected to believe USAID can be shut down by executive whim, we’re now supposed to accept that clearly false emergency declarations can override international trade laws.
This distortion of reality has particularly infected Congress’s understanding of its own power. The constitutional framework is clear: Congress makes laws, controls spending, and oversees executive agencies. This is as fundamental as two plus two equals four. Yet as Trump openly declares he won’t enforce laws he dislikes, as Musk gains unauthorized control of government systems, as congressionally established agencies are illegally shuttered, Congress responds with hearings and strongly worded letters. It’s as if they’ve been convinced that their constitutional powers are merely suggestions rather than fundamental law.
The pattern becomes even more disturbing when we examine how this reality distortion affects our alliances. When Trump threatens Panama over the canal, when he imposes illegal tariffs on Canada and Mexico, he’s not just violating international agreements—he’s asking us to accept that America’s word means nothing. Just as domestic law becomes whatever those in power say it is, we’re now supposed to believe that international commitments can be discarded based on whatever pretense sounds convenient in the moment.
This systematic assault on reality serves a clear purpose: When people can no longer trust their own understanding of law and truth, resistance becomes nearly impossible. If we accept that USAID can be shut down despite clear statutory authority, that civil servants can be purged for following the law, that private citizens can seize control of government systems—we’ve already surrendered the conceptual framework that makes constitutional governance possible.
The most insidious effect of reality distortion is how it paralyzes democratic response. When people can’t trust their own understanding of what’s happening, they become hesitant to act. Consider how this works in practice: Even as we watch the systematic dismantling of constitutional governance—with private citizens seizing control of government systems and career officials being purged—many Americans remain trapped in a framework of “wait and see” or “let’s not overreact.”
This hesitation isn’t accidental. Just as the Party in 1984 understood that controlling reality meant controlling response, those dismantling our democracy understand that making people doubt their own perceptions creates paralysis. When every clear violation of law is met with sophisticated arguments about why it might actually be legal, when every breach of constitutional order is wrapped in claims about “efficiency” and “reform,” people become uncertain about when and how to resist.
The pattern becomes particularly dangerous when we examine how it affects institutional response. Professional civil servants, seeing colleagues removed for following the law, learn to doubt their own understanding of legal requirements. Members of Congress, watching clear statutory authority being ignored, begin to question whether their constitutional powers mean anything at all. Even the courts, faced with open defiance of their orders, start to hedge and qualify their responses.
This is why insisting on clear reality—maintaining that two plus two equals four—becomes so crucial. The first step in effective resistance is breaking free from the fog of deliberately induced confusion. When we clearly state that USAID cannot legally be shut down by executive order, that civil servants cannot be purged for following the law, that private citizens cannot seize control of government systems, we’re not just making legal arguments—we’re reclaiming the conceptual clarity necessary for democratic defense.
Let me explain how recognizing reality leads to effective democratic resistance:
Once we’ve cleared away the fog of manufactured confusion, the path forward becomes clearer. Historical examples show that effective resistance to democratic breakdown requires three key elements: clarity about what’s happening, courage to name it, and coordinated action to stop it.
First, we must maintain absolute clarity about basic reality. When we see security officials removed for protecting classified information at USAID, we must call it what it is—punishment for following the law. When we watch Musk gain control of Treasury systems without authorization, we must name it clearly—illegal seizure of government functions. When Trump declares he won’t enforce laws he dislikes, we must identify it precisely—violation of his constitutional duty to faithfully execute the laws.
But clarity alone isn’t enough. The next step requires courage—specifically, the courage to sound the alarm without hedging or qualification. This is where many Americans, particularly those with institutional power and influence, are failing. They worry about appearing partisan or alarmist. They fear being dismissed as overreacting. But just as Winston Smith’s insistence that two plus two equals four required courage in the face of institutional pressure, defending constitutional democracy requires the courage to name truth even when doing so carries social or professional costs.
This brings us to the crucial final step: coordinated action. History shows that the most effective response to democratic breakdown comes through mass mobilization focused on specific institutional targets. When Congress appears unwilling to defend its constitutional authority, citizens must make their representatives more afraid of voter anger than they are of Trump or Musk’s retaliation. This isn’t about violence or disorder—it’s about citizens exercising their fundamental constitutional right to demand their representatives fulfill their oaths of office.
The mechanism for this exists within our constitutional framework. The Founders understood that ultimate power in a republic rests with the people themselves. When institutional safeguards begin to fail, when normal processes prove inadequate, citizens have not just the right but the duty to defend constitutional governance through direct action. This means sustained protest, focused pressure on representatives, and unrelenting demand for congressional action while the possibility for legal remedy still exists.
The most relevant historical lessons come from successful defenses of democracy, particularly moments when citizen mobilization prevented autocratic capture of democratic institutions. Consider the Philippine People Power Revolution of 1986, where sustained peaceful protests successfully defended democratic institutions against Ferdinand Marcos’s attempt to override election results. Or look at South Korea’s Candlelight Revolution of 2016-2017, where peaceful mass demonstrations successfully defended democratic institutions against corruption and abuse of power.
These examples teach us crucial lessons about effective resistance:
First, successful democratic defense requires sustained pressure rather than sporadic response. When the Solidarity movement in Poland successfully defended democratic institutions, it wasn’t through single dramatic protests but through consistent, focused pressure that made clear the cost of continuing anti-democratic actions. This connects directly to our current moment—making Congress feel consistent pressure from constituents rather than just responding to individual crises.
Second, successful resistance focuses on specific institutional targets rather than general complaints. When South Koreans defended their democracy, they concentrated pressure on specific parliamentary representatives, making clear that their political futures depended on defending democratic institutions. In our context, this means focusing pressure on Congress—particularly Republicans who might be convinced that their political survival requires defending constitutional governance.
Third, successful democratic defense requires clear, simple demands that connect directly to constitutional principles. This is why maintaining that “two plus two equals four” matters so much. When we demand that Congress defend USAID’s statutory authority, when we insist that civil service protections be maintained, when we call for protection of classified systems from unauthorized access—we’re making specific, achievable demands rooted in clear law.
Most importantly, these examples show that democratic defense succeeds when it maintains both urgency and discipline. The temptation during constitutional crisis is either to downplay the danger (leading to inadequate response) or to panic (leading to disorganized action). Successful resistance requires the discipline to maintain peaceful, focused pressure while recognizing the genuine emergency we face.
The first crucial step is understanding that successful resistance has to operate at multiple levels simultaneously. At the most basic level, we need sustained protests focused specifically on congressional offices. This isn’t about general demonstrations against Trump or Musk—it’s about citizens making clear to their representatives that defending constitutional governance is a precondition for their continued political careers.
Consider how this would work in practice: When USAID officials are removed for following classification protocols, the response shouldn’t just be criticism of Trump or Musk. Instead, citizens should organize continuous presence at their representatives’ offices, demanding specific congressional action to defend the agency’s statutory authority. The message must be clear: Representatives who fail to defend constitutional governance will face relentless peaceful pressure from constituents.
The second level involves creating focused pressure on specific institutional chokepoints. Just as the Solidarity movement in Poland identified key points where pressure could be most effective, we need to target our efforts where they can have maximum impact. In our current crisis, this means focusing particularly on Republican representatives in competitive districts. These representatives need to understand that their political survival depends on choosing constitutional governance over partisan loyalty.
But perhaps most importantly, successful resistance requires maintaining clarity about what we’re defending. This isn’t about partisan politics or policy preferences—it’s about preserving the constitutional framework that makes democratic governance possible. When we demand Congress defend USAID’s statutory authority, we’re not arguing about foreign aid policy—we’re insisting on respect for basic law. When we oppose unauthorized access to Treasury systems, we’re not making a partisan argument—we’re defending fundamental security protocols.
This connects back to our core theme about maintaining reality: Every successful democratic defense movement has succeeded by insisting on basic truths despite enormous pressure to accept convenient fictions. Just as Winston Smith’s insistence that two plus two equals four represented resistance to totalitarian control of reality, our insistence on constitutional truth—that laws mean what they say, that Congress has real authority, that civil service protections matter—represents resistance to autocratic capture of our democracy.
First, organizing sustained presence requires organizing concerned citizens in each congressional district. These aren’t general protest movements—they’re specifically focused on demanding congressional action to defend constitutional governance. Just as the Candlelight protesters in South Korea maintained consistent pressure through rotating shifts of citizens, these groups would ensure continuous peaceful presence at congressional offices and district events.
The demands must be specific and tied directly to constitutional duties. For example, when confronting representatives about USAID’s illegal shutdown, the message should be: “You took an oath to defend the Constitution. USAID exists by congressional statute. Will you act to defend Congress’s constitutional authority, or are you surrendering your power to executive overreach?” This isn’t about policy—it’s about basic constitutional authority.
The pressure must also be strategic. Representatives need to understand that inaction carries real political cost. This means organizing visible presence not just at their offices, but at every public appearance. When they attend local events, they should face constituents calmly but persistently asking why they’re allowing private citizens to seize control of Treasury systems, why they’re permitting illegal shutdown of congressionally established agencies, why they’re accepting the purge of civil servants who followed the law.
Most crucially, this pressure must maintain both intensity and discipline. The temptation during constitutional crisis is to either escalate to counterproductive confrontation or to fall into ineffective symbolic protest. Success requires threading this needle—maintaining peaceful but relentless pressure that makes representatives feel the cost of failing to defend constitutional governance.
The most powerful messages in defense of democracy combine moral clarity with concrete specificity. When crafting messages about the current crisis, we need three key elements: clear reality, specific violation, and constitutional principle. Let me show how this works in practice:
Instead of saying “Trump and Musk are threatening democracy,” we say: “Security officials at USAID were removed for following classification laws that protect American national security. This isn’t about politics – it’s about whether laws passed by Congress mean anything at all.”
The power of these focused, reality-based messages lies in their ability to cut through the fog of manufactured confusion. When we insist on basic truths—that laws mean what they say, that Congress has real authority, that civil service protections matter—we’re not just making legal arguments. We’re engaging in the fundamental act of democratic resistance: refusing to accept the distortion of reality that enables autocratic power.
This brings us back to Winston Smith and his insistence that two plus two equals four. In Orwell’s dystopia, that simple act of maintaining reality became revolutionary. Today, we face our own version of this test. When we refuse to accept that presidents can unilaterally shut down congressionally established agencies, when we insist that following classification laws isn’t grounds for punishment, when we maintain that private citizens can’t legally seize control of government systems—we’re engaging in the same essential act of resistance.
The stakes couldn’t be higher. What we’re witnessing isn’t just a series of policy disagreements or political maneuvers—it’s a coordinated assault on the very foundations of constitutional democracy. Every time we accept a distorted explanation for clear violations of law, every moment we hesitate to name reality for fear of seeming alarmist, we participate in the erosion of our own democratic safeguards.
But history shows us that even in the face of sophisticated autocratic tactics, democratic resistance is possible. It requires clarity about what we’re facing, courage to name it without hedging, and coordinated action focused on specific institutional targets. Most of all, it demands that we maintain our collective grip on reality—that we refuse, no matter how much pressure is applied, to accept that two plus two equals anything other than four.
The path forward is clear, if challenging. We must organize sustained, peaceful pressure on our representatives, making them more afraid of constituent anger than of partisan retaliation. We must frame our demands in clear, constitutionally grounded terms that cut through attempts at reality distortion. And we must maintain both the urgency this crisis demands and the discipline required for effective action.
The future of American democracy hangs in the balance. But if we act now—with clarity, courage, and coordinated purpose—we can still defend the constitutional order that has, at its best, made self-governance possible. The time for complacency or strategic patience has long passed. Our task now, as citizens of a republic under threat, is to stand firmly for reality itself. Two plus two equals four.
Mike Brock is a former tech exec who was on the leadership team at Block. Originally published at his Notes From the Circus as a follow up to the post we ran yesterday. Republished here with permission.