From Military Service to Corporate Life: A Dream Deferred
After leaving the Army, I envisioned using the G.I. Bill to complete a political science degree and launch a career in journalism, inspired by icons like Hunter S. Thompson and Bob Woodward. However, life intervened dramatically when my wife became pregnant with our first child. Suddenly, those aspirations seemed not just impractical but almost frivolous. Attending school full-time while working nights as a security guard would barely cover rent, let alone support a growing family. The need for a stable paycheck, health insurance, and financial security became paramount.
In 2007, I joined a large corporation in a role unrelated to writing, but it offered excellent pay and benefits, providing much-needed breathing room. Despite lacking a college degree, the leadership skills honed in the infantry opened doors, allowing me to build a comfortable life. The job came with an added bonus: forming lasting friendships with colleagues, including a man named Zach.
A Bond Forged in Shared Experience
Zach and I connected instantly. Both veterans who served in Iraq around the same time, we shared similar backgrounds, young families, musical tastes, and a dry sense of humor. This camaraderie made workdays tolerable, if not enjoyable. However, our political views, while both leaning libertarian, diverged significantly. My perspective centered on personal freedoms and civil liberties, whereas Zach's leaned further right, opposing government regulation even in areas like safety and workers' rights.
Over beers, we engaged in endless debates about the balance between individual freedom and collective public good. He argued that such issues should be resolved in court, not through government intervention. I countered by questioning whether a worker could fairly compete against a corporation with unlimited legal resources. Discussions often referenced historical events like the Triangle Shirtwaist Factory fire, with neither of us fully persuading the other. Yet, our friendship endured, rooted in mutual respect.
The Erosion of Civil Discourse in Modern America
Growing up in Texas during the 1980s and 1990s, political disagreements felt normal and manageable. Neighbors of differing parties would socialize, debate politics, and joke at each other's expense without damaging relationships. There was little vitriol or hatred in those interactions, a stark contrast to today's polarized climate. I vowed never to let politics sever friendships, even as social media amplified echo chambers and deepened divides. That commitment was tested severely in 2016.
Zach enthusiastically supported Donald Trump from the outset, while I viewed Trump as a dangerous, unqualified figure. My respect for John McCain made Trump's mockery of McCain's military service particularly offensive, leading me to dismiss Trump as a crude clown. I assumed fellow veterans would share my disdain, but I was mistaken. Zach saw Trump as an outsider needed to disrupt Washington, even if it meant breaking norms. Despite my growing alarm over Trump's corruption and rhetoric, I maintained our friendship, though debates grew sharper and more strained.
The Breaking Point: January 6 and Beyond
The January 6, 2021, insurrection at the Capitol marked a turning point. Watching the chaos unfold on TV at work, I was horrified, but Zach's reaction was disturbingly muted. As a fellow veteran who had sworn an oath to the Constitution, I couldn't comprehend his lack of outrage at the assault on police and threats to democracy. Our friendship persisted superficially, but something had irrevocably shifted for me.
By the 2024 election, policy differences felt secondary to preserving democratic institutions. I voted for Kamala Harris, not as an ideal candidate, but as a necessary bulwark against what I perceived as an existential threat posed by Trump's promises of revenge, attacks on the press, and disregard for due process. Zach's continued support for Trump, despite escalating ICE raids and violations of civil liberties, became increasingly untenable.
The Final Conversation: When Politics Becomes Morality
After leaving our shared workplace and quitting drinking, our interactions dwindled to occasional texts. When Zach attempted to justify Trump's actions, including deadly ICE raids and suppression of protests, I finally confronted him. He hedged, repeating administration talking points about obeying police commands, but couldn't reconcile his libertarian beliefs with state suppression of First Amendment rights. His silence spoke volumes.
In our last conversation, I explained why he should lose my number. This wasn't merely about political disagreement; it was a fundamental clash of morals and ethics. Defending actions that trample core principles and human rights crossed a line I could not ignore.
A Widespread Phenomenon of Fractured Relationships
My experience mirrors countless others: friends who stop calling, siblings who avoid politics, and families strained by ideological rifts. Walking away from loved ones is never easy, but many reach a point where continuing a relationship requires excusing the inexcusable. Watching Zach's descent from casual libertarianism to what resembled support for fascism clarified that I don't need such people in my life.
In today's information-rich world, ignorance is no longer a valid defense. Endorsing actions that undermine the Constitution and harm fellow citizens constitutes a moral endorsement. Reflecting on this journey, I realize I held on too long, hoping to change beliefs to avoid the painful decision of walking away. Ultimately, maintaining ties with those who defend violations of human rights becomes impossible. Better late than never, I suppose.
Some names have been changed to protect privacy. Nick Allison is a writer based in Austin, Texas, whose work has appeared in various publications.
