It’s the day after Christmas, after George W. Bush’s re-election. I’m staring out the window, feeling hopeless. I can’t write. I feel stuck and drained – like the energy to keep working has disappeared. Then the phone rings. It’s a fellow artist calling to wish me happy holidays.
“How are you?” he asks.
Instead of giving the usual polite answer, I tell him the truth: “Honestly, not great. I’m depressed. I can’t write. It’s like I’m frozen. I’ve started a novel, but I can’t move forward. This election…”
Before I can say more, he cuts me off. “No! No, no, no! This is exactly when artists are supposed to work – not when things are easy, but when times are tough. That’s what we do.”
I felt ashamed the rest of the day. I thought about the artists who worked in prison, in hospital beds, under exile, even while being attacked or silenced. Some were even killed for what they created.
History Is Full of Artists Who Didn’t Back Down
The list of creators who faced oppression but kept going is long. Think Paul Robeson, Ai Weiwei, Oscar Wilde, Pablo Picasso, Salman Rushdie, Herta Müller, Fyodor Dostoyevsky, Primo Levi, Wole Soyinka, and so many more. They didn’t quit. Their art survived tyranny, censorship, and even violence.
Dictators often go after artists, journalists, and writers when they rise to power. They know that controlling expression helps control everything else. It’s a calculated move – not just cruel but brilliant from their perspective. Their game plan usually looks like this:
Find a common enemy – an “outsider” to blame and attack.
Shut down imagination and critical thinking through censorship.
Distract people with shiny promises, nostalgia, and nationalism.
Why Free Expression Matters Now More Than Ever
A publication like The Nation couldn’t have existed under Franco in Spain, in apartheid South Africa, or Nazi Germany. But in the U.S., where freedom of the press was protected, The Nation could survive. It was born during a time of political violence – 1865, the year Lincoln was assassinated.
It thrived not just on politics but also on essays, reviews, poetry, and art criticism. That balance—between challenging ideas and creative expression—is what keeps culture alive.
Today, in a world of chaos, displacement, and rising fear, the first answer from governments tends to be war or prison. Showing compassion is seen as a weakness. But when did “weak” become such an insult? Why is carrying a gun or starting a war considered brave, but empathy or restraint is not?
We live in a society that sometimes mistakes fear and violence for strength. Guns in schools shootings in the streets – these are signs of fear, not courage. The weapons industry profits while people feel powerless. That powerlessness, that fear, makes violence seem like an answer. It isn’t.
Despair Is a Luxury We Can’t Afford
It's hard to build anything real when public conversation devolves into insults, gossip, and hatred. We’ve seen this before – colonialism justified as “civilizing” the world when it was about stealing resources. Slavery was always about profit. Today’s “working poor” are treated much the same – exploited by companies that silence anyone who speaks out.
But the solution isn’t silence or despair.
I keep going back to my friend’s words: This is when artists get to work. No matter how bad things seem, this is the time to speak up. Write. Paint. Sing. Tell stories. Create.
That’s how we heal. That’s how we move forward.
Yes, the world is hurting. But we can’t let that pain stop us. There's still knowledge to find inside the mess, the fear, the failure. And through art, we can turn that knowledge into something lasting, something powerful.
Mary Watson
