by Craig Goodwin-Ortiz de León
There was a time when comparisons to authoritarianism in the United States felt theoretical or exaggerated. Some warned of creeping fascism, others dismissed the idea as alarmist. Today, however, the patterns of oppression are no longer subtle. The machinery of tyranny is not forming quietly behind closed doors; it is operating in the open, gaining speed, and demanding our attention.
In the book of Micah, the prophet describes a nation where both religious and civil leaders have betrayed their calling. He speaks in his own voice and also conveys the voice of God, who indicts the priests for teaching for a price, the prophets for selling visions, and the rulers for making justice a commodity. Yet God does not only condemn those in positions of authority. Through Micah, God holds the entire community accountable. The people have followed corrupt leaders, normalized injustice, and abandoned the covenant. The prophet’s lament is not only about failed institutions; it is about a society that has lost its moral compass.
That same indictment speaks powerfully to our moment. With the passage of the so-called One Big Beautiful Bill Act (H.R.1), tyranny is not only visible—it is legislative. This bill, which has already passed the House and is advancing in the Senate, enacts deliberate harm against those who are poor, sick, marginalized, and struggling. It codifies cruelty under the guise of fiscal responsibility.
The bill slashes food assistance for low-income families, expanding work requirements for people as old as 65 while stripping away state flexibility. It eliminates nutrition education and forbids counting basic expenses like internet bills when calculating need. It punishes single parents and the working poor, tightening the rules not out of necessity, but out of ideology. Through this bill, lawmakers seek to reduce support not by error, but by design.
In higher education, the bill eliminates subsidized student loans, restricts loan forgiveness, and ends deferments for economic hardship. For poor and working-class students, the message is clear: debt is your burden, and education is a privilege, not a right. At the same time, the bill defunds environmental protections in low-income communities, removes climate justice programs, and repeals funds for clean air and safe school buildings. These are not just budgetary choices—they are declarations of whose lives matter.
Nowhere is the cruelty more blatant than in the healthcare provisions. The bill demands work requirements and cost-sharing from people on Medicaid, including those barely above the poverty line. It prohibits gender-affirming care and targets essential community providers that serve those most in need. In doing so, it criminalizes poverty and marginalizes already vulnerable populations, especially trans people, immigrants, and women seeking reproductive care.
Micah’s world is not ancient history. It is a lens through which to view the present. In chapter 2, God says, “Woe to those who devise wickedness… who oppress a man and his house, a person and his inheritance.” Through Micah, God promises that the land will groan under such injustice. The promise is not only one of judgment, but of reversal. God promises to gather the remnant, to break open the gates of oppression, and to restore the people who have been trampled.
That divine promise does not align with the reality our leaders are building. When a nation imposes suffering through its laws, when it erases protections for the poor and calls it freedom, when it silences opposition and inflames division, it stands in opposition to the God who liberates. It stands against the One who says, “Is it not for you to know justice?” (Micah 3:1).
Micah 6:8 remains a cry for a different way. “What does the Lord require of you but to do justice, and to love kindness, and to walk humbly with your God?” These are not abstract virtues. They are direct commands in response to specific injustice. In our day, doing justice means resisting policies like H.R.1 that punish the poor and reward the powerful. Loving kindness means protecting those targeted by the law. Walking humbly means refusing to justify our silence when the vulnerable suffer.
We are not powerless. The prophetic voice is not lost. The God of Micah still calls people to act, still promises restoration, and still weeps for the harm done in His name. If we believe that, then we must live differently.
Tyranny no longer hides. It is written into legislation, passed through Congress, and praised as reform. The question is not whether we see it. The question is whether we will speak, lament, and resist in the name of the God who sets the oppressed free.
Under the Fig Tree 