Tag: Resistance

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The Beans Don’t Lie, But Aaron Bean Does

EDITOR’S NOTE: This content is courtesy of our friends at United Nassau Florida. Aaron Bean is a sitting US Conggressman representing Florida District 4, which includes parts nof Nassau and Duval counties, inclduing the neighborhoods of Riverside, Avondale, and Murray Hill.

This video isn’t something we want to subject you to, but it’s eye-opening. Sometimes you have to hear it straight from the horse’s mouth for the impact to sink in. We apologize for the unpleasant content, but we believe it’s important.

Congressman Bean loves to talk about “protecting police dogs.”  He praises his K-9 Protection Act as if it were the height of compassion, yet says nothing about the people brutalized by the same agencies those dogs serve. While ICE and Border Patrol have slammed unarmed civilians to the pavement and terrorized families, Bean’s outrage begins and ends with the animals.

We value every life, human and canine, but compassion that ignores human suffering isn’t compassion at all.

Behind that grin lies something darker a steady stream of lies, hypocrisy, and cruelty wrapped in charm.

The man who claims to “stand with working families” voted for a so-called “Clean Continuing Resolution”, a bill that would have allowed subsidies to expire for the Affordable Care Act (Obama Care) and block Medicaid extensions.

Had that bill passed in the Senate, Marketplace healthcare premiums would have skyrocketed, and health coverage would have been stripped from millions of Americans, leaving families across Florida facing impossible medical bills or no care at all.

He calls it “fiscal responsibility”

We call it what it is: an attack on the health and dignity of the people he’s sworn to represent.

When Bean talks about compassion, he means “damage control.”

He wrote letters asking utility companies to show “mercy” to federal workers, the same workers losing paychecks because he voted for a budget bill that slashed ACA subsidies, fueling the shutdown standoff in the Senate.

He calls it “compassion”

We call it what it is: Theater.

He grins beside dialysis patients and seniors in nursing homes while voting for the Republican “One Big Beautiful Bill Act”, legislation that threatens or eliminates the very programs those people rely on.

He calls it “fiscal discipline.”

We call it: Cruelty disguised as compassion.

Aaron Bean doesn’t stand with working families. He stands in front of them, for the photo op.

Bean is now proudly promoting his “LEO K-9 Protection Act,” calling police dogs “precious animals” who deserve “safe haven.”

But where is his compassion for people?

For the migrants and protesters slammed to the ground by ICE officers, for the people thrown into ravines and detention cages, for the workers who are unable to feed their families because of his votes.

He weeps for wounded dogs while ignoring human beings brutalized by the same agencies he glorifies.

Bean cries for K-9s while turning his head away from people

We call it: Selective empathy, the cruelty of moral convenience.

Now, he’s trying to sell the lie of a “Senate-led shutdown.”

Here’s the truth:

  • The shutdown began in the House, when MAGA Republicans refused to pass bipartisan funding that the Senate had already approved.
  • He claims Democrats “voted to keep the government closed.”
  • What he doesn’t say is that those bills were loaded with MAGA poison pills, deep cuts to healthcare, disaster relief, and environmental protections.

He created the crisis and now blames others for the pain.

It’s the oldest political trick in the book: “cause the fire, then pose with the hose.”

Bean’s job isn’t governing, it’s performing.

He loves ribbon cuttings and happy talk about “Florida sunshine.” Meanwhile, Florida families face rising prices, shrinking safety nets, and lost paychecks.

When the lights go off and the cameras turn away, his compassion disappears right along with them.

Aaron Bean doesn’t understand the No Kings movement because he doesn’t understand democracy.

He calls peaceful citizens “unruly.”

He praises power and mocks dissent.

And he serves a movement that would rather rule than represent.
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Why I’m Leaving The Country I Love (Again)

This post is shared with permission courtesy of a member of Unified Nassau County, the Indivisible chapter for that region. The author is a Venezuelan friend of that member, and he and his family leaving the U.S. after decades of calling it home. They are not leaving because they’ve given up on democracy, but because they recognize the signs of its unraveling.

As we rally, protest, and organize here at home, it’s essential to listen to those who have witnessed what happens when authoritarianism takes hold. They remind us what’s at stake, and why we must act now to protect the rights, freedoms, and democratic values too many take for granted.

His words are a gift. May we receive them with open eyes and renewed resolve.

Why I’m Leaving the Country I Love (Again)

By J.R.

In 1997, I left Venezuela.

I didn’t want to. It was the country that gave me everything. My family, my childhood, my first opportunities, but I could see what was coming. Hugo Chávez had just risen from obscurity, tapping into the anger of ordinary people with big promises and even bigger ambition.

He said he would save the country. Deep down, I feared he would destroy it.

Now, almost three decades later, I’m preparing to leave another country I love deeply: the United States. I never imagined I would have to do this again.

But I see the same signs.

The same tactics.

The same descent.

And I’ve learned that once a democracy starts down this path, turning back becomes harder with each step.

⚠️ It All Starts with a Charismatic Populist

In Venezuela, Chávez was magnetic. He knew how to speak to the masses, especially to those who felt forgotten and excluded. He attacked the elites, blamed the press, and promised to restore dignity to “real Venezuelans.” The fact that he had no prior experience in democratic governance was spun as a strength, not a weakness.

Donald Trump used a similar playbook. His rise in 2016 wasn’t just about politics, it was about grievance, disruption, and a willingness to break every rule if it meant owning his enemies. To millions, he was a savior. To others, a warning.

I had seen this story before. But many in the U.S. had not.

⸻

 Step 1: Co-opt the Courts

In 2004, Chávez expanded Venezuela’s Supreme Court from 20 to 32 seats and filled the new posts with loyalists. From then on, the judiciary stopped being a check on power and became a weapon of it. Every law, every executive order, every move, rubber-stamped.

Trump didn’t expand the U.S. Supreme Court, but he fundamentally reshaped it, and more importantly, he’s now openly supporting plans to purge the federal government and bring supposedly independent institutions (DOJ, FBI, civil service) under direct political control in a potential second term

 Step 2: Discredit and Silence the Press

Chávez labeled independent journalists as “traitors” and “liars,” then used legal tools to shut them down. By 2010, most major Venezuelan media outlets had been either shuttered or taken over. In their place, state-run propaganda channels pumped out a nonstop stream of loyalist messaging.

Trump hasn’t closed any media outlets—yet—but his relentless attacks and lawsuits against the press have eroded public trust to dangerous levels. When a leader tells his followers that only he speaks the truth, that’s not politics. That’s a cult.

 Step 3: Undermine the Electoral System

Chávez learned to manipulate democracy from the inside. He used elections as tools to legitimize his rule, while stacking electoral institutions, disqualifying opposition candidates, and changing the constitution to eliminate term limits in 2009.

Trump’s refusal to accept his 2020 defeat, his efforts to overturn results in swing states, and his ongoing embrace of election deniers in key roles aren’t just “controversial.” They’re part of the same pattern. Authoritarians don’t eliminate elections. They learn how to control them.

 Step 4: Corruption Behind the Curtain

One of the great myths of Chávez was that he was “for the people.” In reality, while the country descended into poverty, his inner circle got fantastically rich.

Many had no real experience, just loyalty. Oil contracts, state construction deals, and import licenses flowed to friends, cousins, and political allies. They bought condos in Miami, sent their kids to Europe, and stashed fortunes offshore. By the time the public caught on, it was too late.

Trump’s wealth and cronyism were always in plain sight. From using the presidency to promote his own properties, to rewarding donors with ambassadorships, to leveraging political power for business favors. The swamp didn’t get drained. It got deeper.

 Step 5: Control the Narrative Through Education

One of Chávez’s most lasting legacies was his quiet takeover of Venezuela’s education system. He rewrote the national curriculum to promote socialist ideology, glorify the Bolivarian revolution, and erase dissenting views from history books.

Critical thinking was replaced by political loyalty.  In the U.S., we’re seeing state-level fights over what can be taught in classrooms. Who gets included in history, which books are banned, which perspectives are allowed. When politicians dictate the truth, education becomes indoctrination.

 It’s No Coincidence That Support Came from the Uninformed

In Venezuela, Chávez’s strongest support came from the poor and undereducated, the people most vulnerable to messaging that promised dignity, revenge, and salvation. He gave them symbolic power while dismantling the institutions that could actually improve their lives.

Trump has built a base that similarly distrusts experts, facts, institutions, and even science, not because they are ignorant, but because they’ve been taught that knowledge itself is a weapon of the elite. That’s how you create a population that will follow one man anywhere.

 This Isn’t Easy. But It’s Necessary.

I love the United States. This country welcomed me when I had to leave my own. It gave me shelter, opportunity, and freedom. It gave me hope.

But now, I feel the same dread I felt in 1997. The same hollowing-out of democratic norms. The same drumbeat of blind loyalty over law. The same willingness to destroy institutions to protect one man.

And once again, I know I need to leave.

Not because I want to.

Because I must.

Because I’ve seen how this ends, and I don’t want to be standing in the rubble, saying again, “We didn’t think it could happen here.”

 This isn’t about left vs. right. It’s about democracy vs. decay.

If you’ve lived through this kind of political collapse, whether in Venezuela, Hungary, Turkey, or elsewhere. We need to talk to each other, to remember what we’ve seen, and to warn those who haven’t.

Our memories might be the most important defense democracy has left.

A Final Word:

This story isn’t only a warning, it’s also a gift. Because we still have a choice.

We can still act. We can organize, speak out, vote, protest, protect one another, and build a future that lives up to the promise we’ve too often left unfinished.

Let’s honor his story by refusing to give up on our own.

Let’s meet this moment with courage, clarity, and hope.