How 'No Kings' Proved We Have No King

Last weekend, millions of Americans took to the streets, draped in yellow, wielding signs denouncing a king who doesn’t exist (in reality or in spirit). The “No Kings” rallies swept across 2,600 organized sites in all 50 states, generating significant media buzz and feeding the social media feeds. Underneath this spectacle, those who attended to protest the monarchy must face an uncomfortable truth: this was nothing more than political theater parading as resistance. This well-funded rendition ironically proved the very opposite of what it claimed to combat.

Let’s be clear about what we witnessed. Historic movements like Selma and Seneca Falls sought critical and tangible goals, setting a standard. Both sought change at the legislative level through constitutional amendments. The civil rights marchers put themselves on the line, risking a beating with billy clubs, in a fight for voting rights. The suffragettes went on hunger strikes and endured force-feeding to take part in the ballot. What were the demands and the sacrifices in the No Kings march? The rallies presented no policy agenda, no legislative foundation, no sharp unified vision beyond an obscure rejection of President Trump’s “authoritarianism.” The central slogan itself was more or less performance art, a symbolic tagline signifying little at best.

President Trump dismissed the protests as merely a donor-funded spectacle. This may seem like partisan rhetoric, but Trump was not far off the mark. Prominent progressive organizations, Indivisible, MoveOn, and the ACLU, all coordinated this nationwide rally with a vibe reminiscent of political campaigns. This was a premeditated uprising, directed activism, designed for full media impact, and organized to energize Democratic donor lists. The “street-party vibe” noted by newscasters was complete with celebrity appearances and Instagram-friendly yellow accessories. This all reveals the obvious truth: this was a political ritual for people who face no real consequences for protesting. This was a feather in the cap of the left, in their “fight” against Trump.

This is where the irony hits like a ton of bricks. The fact that these protests were even possible completely demolishes their own beliefs, which led them to march. Millions marched in peace, arrests in major cities were minimal, and, with limited and excusable exceptions, they were able to denounce a sitting president openly. TV cameras helped broadcast their message without censorship, and the police even protected people’s right to assemble. Could you tell me what would happen in an actual monarchy, or any actual authoritarian regime? The kind of monarchy that was the way of Europe for centuries would not tolerate this defiance; their punishment would be swift and pre-emptive, to take part would be a massive risk, almost suicidal. Genuine authoritarians don’t permit 2,600 coordinated protest sites. They don’t tolerate mass demonstrations where participants safely return home to post selfies.

The protesters appealed to anti-monarchist imagery while targeting a president who, under the Constitution, is subject to the limits of elections, the courts, and Congress. This wasn’t resistance; it was melodrama over someone people don’t like. It conflated political disagreement with authoritarianism, democratic defeat with the ending of our Republic as we know it.

This is not to dismiss the idea that we should have concerns about executive overreach and Congress passing its job on to the President; these are legitimate concerns and merit attention. But the solutions lie in institutional reform, strengthening congressional oversight, defining what separation of powers looks like, and enforcing accountability through proper channels. Yellow rallies and theatrical slogans don’t protect the Constitution. Hard legislative work is what will get the job done. This movement completely ignores the real work,the hard work of making real change,instead opting for emotional catharsis dressed up as civic duty. This movement was deeply troubling as it appropriated the language of oppression while operating safely within the confines of a protected, free society. It took meaning from absolute authoritarianism and insults those who actually fight it by putting their lives on the line. It turns profound political engagement into performance, activism into appearance.

The No Kings rallies succeeded as a partisan sensation and cultural mental release. A base was energized for a bit, money was raised, and there was plenty of coverage. Was there a challenge to power in defense of democracy? All that was proven was that America’s constitutional system remains powerful enough to tolerate even the most theatrical expressions of disagreement, making the entire exercise a self-refuting contradiction wrapped in yellow fabric.

If you want to uphold democracy, begin with something more difficult and essential than a well-organized street party. Start with policy. Start with influence. Start with the real work of winning elections in a republic that, despite the end-of-days rhetoric, still functions as intended.

The real threat to democracy isn’t the President these protesters oppose. It’s the means by which we engage in political discourse. It’s devolved into hollow symbolism, where virtue signaling substitutes for serious reflection and coordinated spectacle acts as a form of courage.

In the end, democracy isn’t defended by selfies, hashtags, or matching outfits. It’s defended by complex arguments, honest debate, and the courage to persuade in matters that protect or advance freedom, not by pretending to be oppressed.