Dear Jason: On Compost, Graveyards, and the Hungry Republic Between Them

Hey Jason,


First, thank you. Your reply to America = Afghanistan was what debate used to be — informed, generous, and disarmingly human. You didn’t just argue; you elevated. You said America isn’t a graveyard of movements but a battleground that keeps evolving. That progress doesn’t die, it sediments — layering itself into law, language, and culture. And you’re right, at least partly.


My essay argued that Afghanistan defeats empires not through power, but patience. It takes their money, their systems, their slogans — and outlasts them. I claimed that America does something similar with its own movements. Civil Rights, Feminism, Occupy, BLM, DEI, Climate — each storms the gates, shakes the country, gets absorbed, and eventually fades. Not through defeat, but through digestion. The system applauds, funds, and merchandises reform until it becomes part of the furniture.


You called that cynicism; I call it pattern recognition.


Still, I love your counterpoint — that movements compost rather than die. They decay into the civic soil and nourish what comes next. Civil rights fed feminism; feminism fed queer rights; queer rights now feed trans visibility. Progress is recursive, not reversible. It doesn’t stay won, but it doesn’t vanish either.


Here’s where I worry: compost requires gardeners. America builds landfills. Instead of letting old ideas nourish the next generation, we entomb them in marketing and bureaucracy. Feminism becomes “empowerment branding.” BLM becomes a slogan on corporate banners. Pride becomes a sponsored hashtag. We embalm activism in self-congratulation.


You argue that inertia — democracy’s slowness — is what saves us from tyranny. True. But inertia also preserves inequality. It cushions privilege and slows redistribution. Our institutions were designed for equilibrium, not revolution. They absorb idealism by offering symbolic wins in place of structural change.


Your best line was that “we are the system.” That’s the painful truth. Afghanistan’s invaders leave; ours get elected. Every reformer lives inside the structure they’re trying to change. We can’t overthrow what we are. We fight inequality on devices made by exploited labor, on platforms profiting from outrage. Our dissent gets monetized before it matures.


So maybe America isn’t a graveyard or a garden — maybe it’s a mausoleum with Wi-Fi. Everything that ever lived here is still visible: Civil Rights, Pride, Occupy, #MeToo — preserved, tagged, and softly lit. Nothing truly dies, but nothing truly breathes either.


And yet — your optimism matters. You remind me that cynicism without hope is just moral laziness. You still believe in the slow miracle of reform, the patience of democracy, the compost of culture. Without people like you, the rest of us would drown in irony.


Maybe the truth is somewhere between your garden and my graveyard — in the dirt itself, where old ideals decompose just enough to feed new ones.


If Afghanistan survives by outlasting empires, America survives by arguing itself into coherence.
And that argument — between faith and fatigue — might be the only proof that we’re still alive.


With respect and affection,
Chris