The right to dissent. A reminder to those who pretend to defend the Constitution by John Reid

There are moments in American history when it becomes painfully clear that the people who shout loudest about “defending the Constitution” have not actually read it or worse, they’ve chosen to ignore the parts that make them uncomfortable. We are living in one of those moments now.

The right to protest, to gather peacefully, and to speak truth to power isn’t just some idealistic privilege granted by benevolent leaders, it is a constitutional guarantee, one of the cornerstones upon which the entire American experiment stands. Yet, somehow, the Trump administration and much of today’s Republican Party have decided that dissent equals disloyalty, and protest equals danger. They seem to have forgotten that America was built on protest against kings, against tyranny, against silence.

The right to protest is not a footnote in the Constitution. It’s enshrined in the very First Amendment, alongside the freedom of speech, press, and religion. These are not abstract rights to be applauded when convenient and suppressed when inconvenient. They exist precisely to protect the unpopular voices, the dissenters, the agitators who challenge those in power. Without them, there is no freedom, only submission wrapped in patriotic slogans.

But in recent years, and most sharply during and after Donald Trump’s presidency, the message from the right has been clear: dissenters should sit down, shut up, and “love it or leave it.” It’s an old tune, but never has it been sung so loudly by those in positions of national authority. The Trump administration turned this sentiment into a governing principle, mocking, discrediting, and threatening anyone who dared raise their voice against its agenda. Protesters were painted as anarchists. Journalists were branded as enemies of the people. Even peaceful demonstrations were cast as threats to “law and order,” that conveniently vague phrase so often used to smother legitimate outrage.

It is worth remembering that the phrase “law and order” has always had two sides. On one, it’s a promise of safety and stability; on the other, it’s a political cudgel used to silence the marginalized and the outspoken. When protesters took to the streets in response to racial injustice, government officials didn’t engage in dialogue, they sent in troops. When citizens exercised their constitutional rights, they were met with tear gas and rubber bullets. Yet when mobs of Trump supporters stormed the Capitol on January 6th, the same voices suddenly preached understanding and restraint. The hypocrisy couldn’t be starker.

The heart of democracy beats strongest in disagreement. It thrives when citizens demand better, when they question authority, and when they refuse to accept lies as truth. To threaten protestors, to smear them, or to manipulate the public into viewing them as enemies is to strike at the very essence of that democracy. It is not patriotic, it is authoritarian.

And let’s be clear: this is not a partisan issue. The right to protest belongs to all Americans, regardless of ideology. But when one side weaponizes fear and misinformation to suppress dissent, it becomes a moral issue. It becomes a test of whether we, as a people, still value liberty over comfort, truth over propaganda.

The Trump era unleashed something dangerous, a willingness to dismiss inconvenient facts, to attack critics, and to portray any challenge as treason. The ripple effects are still with us. Governors threaten to criminalize demonstrations. Legislators propose bills to protect drivers who run over protesters. Pundits on television speak of “restoring order” as though order is more important than justice. Every one of these actions chips away at the foundation of the republic they claim to cherish.

This is how freedoms die, not in one grand collapse, but through slow, steady erosion, cheered on by those who wrap themselves in flags while shredding the paper those flags represent. The Constitution was never meant to be a shield for the powerful; it was meant to be a sword for the people. And protest is how the people wield it.

Think back to every great turning point in American history, the abolition of slavery, the women’s suffrage movement, civil rights, the fight for labor protections, LGBTQ+ equality. None of these advances came from silence. None were handed down by those in power out of kindness or clarity. They were fought for, demanded, shouted for in the streets by citizens who refused to be cowed by threats or lies. Those protestors were called radicals, agitators, even traitors in their time. But history remembers them differently.

To the politicians and pundits who sneer at protest today, who weaponize fear against the people they claim to serve, here’s a simple truth: dissent is not destruction. Protest does not weaken America; it is what keeps it alive. The real threat comes from those who would rather see blind obedience than informed resistance, who believe that patriotism means silence in the face of wrongdoing.

We do not need permission to protest. We never have. The streets, the parks, the public squares belong to the people, not the politicians. The Constitution guarantees that right—not as a courtesy, but as a birthright. The moment we allow leaders to intimidate or criminalize peaceful assembly, we surrender a piece of that birthright, and we edge closer to the very tyranny our founders fought to escape.

So, yes, somebody does need to remind the Trump administration, the Republican Party, and anyone else willing to trample on this principle: the right to protest is not negotiable. It does not disappear because it makes the powerful uncomfortable. It is not suspended because it challenges the narrative of those in charge.

The Constitution doesn’t belong to a party or a president. It belongs to the people and as long as the people remember that, no amount of threats, no flood of misinformation, and no campaign of fear can silence them.

In the end, the right to protest is more than a political act; it’s an act of faith. Faith that truth still matters. Faith that power can still be held accountable. And faith that even when the noise of propaganda grows deafening, the voice of the people will always, eventually, rise above it.

That’s not chaos. That’s freedom.


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The right to dissent. A reminder to those who pretend to defend the Constitution by John Reid

There are moments in American history when it becomes painfully clear that the people who shout loudest about “defending the Constitution” ...