Where Are the Flowers?
Trump, Media, and the Great Misdirection of America’s Spirit
by Adam Rangihana
Trump, Media, and the Great Misdirection of America’s Spirit
by Adam Rangihana
Trumpian March into History
Where Are the Flowers?
Trump, Media, and the Great Misdirection of America’s Spirit
It’s all too predictable now.
A protest breaks out in Los Angeles—focused, isolated, emotional but largely peaceful—and the media descends like it’s the second coming of Watts. The images are always the same: a flaming trash can, a tense standoff, someone shouting into a megaphone. But what they never show is that these protests occupy just 0.01% of the city’s geography. The other 99.99%? Children riding scooters. A nurse going home after 12 hours on her feet. A grandmother baking bread. Real life, untelevised.
And still, the headline reads: "City in Chaos."
Meanwhile, in Washington, we barely hear about the true chaos that shook the nation to its core: January 6th, when an organized mob assaulted police officers and stormed the Capitol to stop Congress from certifying a lawful election—an actual attempt to overthrow a functioning government.
Let’s be clear:
This false equivalence is not just intellectually lazy—it’s dangerous.
The Great Media MisfireThe press is no longer holding power to account. It’s chasing the narrative crumbs left behind by Trump’s latest provocation.
Flood the zone. Redirect the outrage. Hijack the camera. This is the Trump playbook.
And it works.
When journalists follow the noise without context, they become co-conspirators in confusion. Trump and his circle are masters at this: drop something explosive (a legal twist, a fight with Elon Musk, a surprise rally), wait for the media to pivot, and let the public memory reset. Meanwhile, serious issues like his role in January 6th or massive economic shifts quietly slip into the background.
The fight between Trump and Elon Musk should have been a fascinating conversation about power, tech, ego, and democracy. Instead, it became a tabloid cage match that distracted from legislation potentially transferring trillions in wealth upwards and decimating public services.
This is misdirection on an imperial scale.
The Priesthood Is MissingIn moments like these, we should look to our moral leaders—our priests, our elders, our poets, our musicians—for clarity. Instead, we find silence.
Where are the clergy on the frontlines? Where are the bishops calling press conferences about justice, reminding us of their sacred duty to protect the vulnerable?
They are supposed to defend the poor. That’s not poetic license—it’s doctrine.
And where are the artists?
The musicians once led revolutions. Now they’re in brand deals.
The poets once warned us of tyranny. Now they write slogans for shoe companies.
We do not lack talent—we lack courage.
Bring the FlowersHere’s a thought. Next protest?
Don’t just march.
Show up with flowers.
Not as a symbol of surrender, but as a disruption of the script.
Because right now, we are letting the cameras decide the meaning of our actions. And the cameras are wired for conflict.
So give them contradiction. Give them something they don’t know how to process.
Imagine a thousand protesters standing silently outside a federal building, each holding a single rose. Not yelling. Just being present. Peaceful. Poetic. Powerful.
Now imagine that caught on camera.
Imagine what story the networks would have to tell.
Imagine how quickly that would break through the noise.
We are not organizing well. Not symbolically. Not tactically.
Protest isn’t just presence. It’s performance. And if you don’t write your own script, someone else will write it for you.
The Fight for Narrative Is the Fight for DemocracyTrump understands something that too many on the left still don’t:
He who controls the narrative controls the battlefield.
By the time you fact-check him, he’s already rewritten the plot.
By the time Democrats respond, the story’s moved on.
It’s not just about being louder. It’s about being clearer.
It’s about symbols, scenes, and soul.
The next protest should have elders walking in front.
Children with chalk, not rocks.
Priests, rabbis, imams standing shoulder-to-shoulder, not watching from pews.
Musicians playing violins, not selling tickets to perform at tech fundraisers.
If you're going to resist, resist with grace, power, and imagination.
Because chaos may dominate the moment.
But beauty lasts in memory.
Trump, Media, and the Great Misdirection of America’s Spirit
It’s all too predictable now.
A protest breaks out in Los Angeles—focused, isolated, emotional but largely peaceful—and the media descends like it’s the second coming of Watts. The images are always the same: a flaming trash can, a tense standoff, someone shouting into a megaphone. But what they never show is that these protests occupy just 0.01% of the city’s geography. The other 99.99%? Children riding scooters. A nurse going home after 12 hours on her feet. A grandmother baking bread. Real life, untelevised.
And still, the headline reads: "City in Chaos."
Meanwhile, in Washington, we barely hear about the true chaos that shook the nation to its core: January 6th, when an organized mob assaulted police officers and stormed the Capitol to stop Congress from certifying a lawful election—an actual attempt to overthrow a functioning government.
Let’s be clear:
- January 6th was not just a riot. It was sedition.
- L.A.’s current protests are not about stopping democracy—they are a reaction to it being systemically undermined.
This false equivalence is not just intellectually lazy—it’s dangerous.
The Great Media MisfireThe press is no longer holding power to account. It’s chasing the narrative crumbs left behind by Trump’s latest provocation.
Flood the zone. Redirect the outrage. Hijack the camera. This is the Trump playbook.
And it works.
When journalists follow the noise without context, they become co-conspirators in confusion. Trump and his circle are masters at this: drop something explosive (a legal twist, a fight with Elon Musk, a surprise rally), wait for the media to pivot, and let the public memory reset. Meanwhile, serious issues like his role in January 6th or massive economic shifts quietly slip into the background.
The fight between Trump and Elon Musk should have been a fascinating conversation about power, tech, ego, and democracy. Instead, it became a tabloid cage match that distracted from legislation potentially transferring trillions in wealth upwards and decimating public services.
This is misdirection on an imperial scale.
The Priesthood Is MissingIn moments like these, we should look to our moral leaders—our priests, our elders, our poets, our musicians—for clarity. Instead, we find silence.
Where are the clergy on the frontlines? Where are the bishops calling press conferences about justice, reminding us of their sacred duty to protect the vulnerable?
They are supposed to defend the poor. That’s not poetic license—it’s doctrine.
And where are the artists?
The musicians once led revolutions. Now they’re in brand deals.
The poets once warned us of tyranny. Now they write slogans for shoe companies.
We do not lack talent—we lack courage.
Bring the FlowersHere’s a thought. Next protest?
Don’t just march.
Show up with flowers.
Not as a symbol of surrender, but as a disruption of the script.
Because right now, we are letting the cameras decide the meaning of our actions. And the cameras are wired for conflict.
So give them contradiction. Give them something they don’t know how to process.
Imagine a thousand protesters standing silently outside a federal building, each holding a single rose. Not yelling. Just being present. Peaceful. Poetic. Powerful.
Now imagine that caught on camera.
Imagine what story the networks would have to tell.
Imagine how quickly that would break through the noise.
We are not organizing well. Not symbolically. Not tactically.
Protest isn’t just presence. It’s performance. And if you don’t write your own script, someone else will write it for you.
The Fight for Narrative Is the Fight for DemocracyTrump understands something that too many on the left still don’t:
He who controls the narrative controls the battlefield.
By the time you fact-check him, he’s already rewritten the plot.
By the time Democrats respond, the story’s moved on.
It’s not just about being louder. It’s about being clearer.
It’s about symbols, scenes, and soul.
The next protest should have elders walking in front.
Children with chalk, not rocks.
Priests, rabbis, imams standing shoulder-to-shoulder, not watching from pews.
Musicians playing violins, not selling tickets to perform at tech fundraisers.
If you're going to resist, resist with grace, power, and imagination.
Because chaos may dominate the moment.
But beauty lasts in memory.
