No Kings Is More Than A Slogan

Millions are preparing to march against Trump’s authoritarian chaos, demanding accountability, justice, and sanity. America’s patience is running out; but will anger finally turn into action?

Guest article by Michael Cohen. Follow him on Substack for more by clicking here.

Editorial credit: Citizen Kepler / Shutterstock.com

There’s a moment in every abusive relationship when the victim finally looks in the mirror and says, “I can’t do this anymore.” It doesn’t happen overnight. It takes years of gaslighting, denial, and manipulation. It takes pain, exhaustion, and the crushing realization that the person you once trusted—or in this case, the system you once believed in—has turned on you. That’s where America is right now.

Millions of people are expected to flood the streets this weekend under the banner No Kings. The name alone says everything. This isn’t a protest about one policy or one moment; it’s a reckoning. It’s a collective scream from a nation that’s been held hostage by chaos, corruption, and cruelty masquerading as leadership.

We’ve been told that the National Guard is “just being deployed for security.” Sure. Because nothing says “freedom” like soldiers patrolling American cities as citizens march for their rights. The Trump administration calls it “law and order.” The rest of us call it what it is: intimidation. When peaceful dissent is met with uniforms, rifles, and riot gear, that’s not democracy. That’s a regime.

I’ve seen it up close—the chaos disguised as strategy, the cruelty repackaged as strength—and it’s a masterclass in how power corrodes everything it touches. I know what it means when power becomes personal, when policy is driven not by principle but by ego. So when I hear the White House shrug and say, “Who cares?” in response to millions of Americans planning to protest, I know exactly what’s happening. They do care—desperately. They’re watching the numbers, counting the cities, tracking the sentiment. Trump pretends indifference the way a gambler pretends he isn’t worried about the next card. He insists he’s “heard no one will show,” that he “doesn’t even know much about it.” Sure. That’s what he always says before he starts rage-tweeting at midnight. The performance of apathy is the most fragile armor there is—and behind it, they’re all rattled.

They say they don’t care that ICE raids are tearing families apart in the dead of night, that hospitals are understaffed and Americans are drowning in medical debt, that elections are being warped from within. But of course they care—just not in the way decent people do. They care because public anger threatens their image of control, because outrage makes their façade crack. They care about keeping the illusion intact—the optics of dominance, the choreography of power. The cruelty, the chaos, the arrogance—it’s all part of the same show. The trick is to make you believe they’re untouchable, when in truth, they’re terrified you might finally realize they’re not.

But we must be honest with ourselves: this isn’t just about President Trump. This is about us. About how long we’ve tolerated the spectacle. How long we’ve scrolled past the outrage, numbed by the next scandal before the last one even fades. How long we’ve let cruelty be normalized, thinking someone else will fix it, someone else will fight it. The question now isn’t whether Americans are tired; it’s whether we’re finally ready to do something about it.

And that’s why protests matter. They remind those in power that the governed are watching. They send a message—loud, visible, undeniable. But movements like this face a brutal truth: marching is not the same as changing. The streets can roar, but the system grinds on. Harvard sociologist Liz McKenna is right—the efficacy of mass protest has weakened in the 21st century. Social media amplifies the noise, but it also dilutes the impact. We’ve traded organization for virality. We show up, we post, we rage—and then we go home.

So yes, millions will march this weekend. And yes, it will be a sight to behold, the largest show of collective defiance in a generation. But if it ends there—if the photos fade and the hashtags dry up—then we’ll have proved Trump right when he shrugs, “Who cares?” Because the answer will have been: apparently, not enough of us.

The genius of authoritarianism is that it doesn’t need your loyalty; it just needs your fatigue. It counts on you to give up, to tune out, to decide it’s hopeless. The danger isn’t that people are angry; it’s that they’re exhausted. Trump’s chaos machine thrives on that exhaustion. The constant outrage, the endless scandals, the sheer absurdity of it all—it’s not a bug. It’s the feature. It’s the smokescreen that keeps Americans distracted while power consolidates behind closed doors.

That’s why this moment matters. Because Americans aren’t just marching against policy; they’re marching against despair. They’re reclaiming their belief that democracy still belongs to the people—not to a man who thinks he’s a king, and not to the courtiers who enable him.

But here’s the catch: democracy isn’t self-cleaning. You can’t just rinse it off. It requires accountability—the thing Trump fears most, and the thing too many of his allies have evaded. It requires the Department of Justice to act independently, Congress to act courageously, and citizens to act consistently. Not for one weekend, not for one election, but for as long as it takes.

I wish I could tell you that this weekend’s protests will be the turning point—that this will be the moment America collectively wakes up and says, “Enough.” But I’ve seen what happens when people underestimate how deep corruption runs—when they believe the story’s over because they went viral for a day.

The truth is harder. The real fight doesn’t end on Saturday; it starts there. Because tyrants don’t fall from chants. They fall when power shifts—when outrage turns into organization, when slogans turn into votes, and when the silent majority stops being silent.

So, America, ask yourself: when you say enough is enough—do you mean it?

Because if you do, the real protest starts the day after.

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