Portland’s Moral Masquerade
In Portland, politics has become performance art. Crowds gather at ICE buildings not to debate policy or seek reform, but to block federal officers from enforcing laws they don’t happen to like. It’s not civil disobedience — it’s self-indulgence wrapped in the language of virtue.
The city’s leadership allows it, of course. Defiance is easier than discipline, and moral theatrics make better headlines than honest governance. They speak of compassion while turning a blind eye to violence, chaos, and the quiet citizens caught in between.
What strikes me most about these protests is the smug certainty of those involved — people convinced that the depth of their outrage is proof of their righteousness. They denounce law enforcement but demand the protection of law when it suits them. They call for justice but reserve none for those they disrupt, harass, or injure.
The result is civic hypocrisy at its most refined: a city that demands federal dollars while rejecting federal authority, that rails against “lawlessness” in Washington while applauding it at home. It’s the politics of moral exemption — a belief that one’s feelings confer immunity from the rules binding everyone else.
What we’re seeing in Portland isn’t progress or principle; it’s a tantrum elevated to policy. When a city decides that laws are optional and consequences negotiable, it ceases to be self-governing.
A republic cannot survive if each faction enforces only the laws it likes. It’s not just Portland’s problem — it’s a preview. And unless we relearn the simple discipline of equal law, we’ll all be living in someone else’s version of righteous anarchy soon enough.



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