On Saturday, March 28, 2026, 65 people gathered in Buffalo as part of the national and international No Kings day vigils. Sixty-five people at the corner of Main and Fort Streets in front of the County Courthouse and the local historical museum, and next to the war memorial that looks like a smaller version of the Vietnam War memorial in Washington. Each monument a dark wall with the names of those who gave their lives in defense of the United States and our dream of democracy.

Opinion

Now we have started a new war, this one against Iran, and while our national leaders seem unable or unwilling to state exactly what the goals of the war are, they threaten the total destruction of the Iranian nation. Our president and our secretary of defense promise to bomb the Iranians back to the Stone Age. “Where they belong,” the president tells us.  

Iran is a nation with a land area slightly greater than that of Alaska and a population of 90 million. Alaska’s population is about 740,000. I’m not sure why these comparisons of Alaska and Iran came to me — something about the similar geography and the stunningly disparate populations. I imagine 90 million people in Alaska with Anchorage, Juneau, Sitka, Haines — places where I’ve worked over the years — burning under rocket attacks and falling bombs, smoke and flames rising from the buildings as people flee. 

Since World War I, the proportion of civilians to soldiers killed in war has risen dramatically, and with our policy of bombing the enemy into submission, the proportion can only grow larger. In war now, it is the parent taking a child to school or the householder shopping for groceries who may face as great a risk as the armed soldier. 

It’s hard to see just how our attack on Iran aligns with a defense of democracy. It looks more cynical than that and while I know that past wars have included cynical actions, something feels worse here. The attack on Iran appears to be a quest for yet more oil and a distraction from other pressing national issues. Maybe worst of all, it appears to be a vehicle for self-aggrandizement set in motion by a small number of American political figures. In attacking Iran, we have abandoned our democracy while claiming to defend democracy for the Iranian people.

To tell the truth, I’d like to ignore this war altogether and go on with my life here in Wyoming, far from the bombs and the bloodletting. But even here at such a great distance from Iran, I feel the immensity of the war, the harm being done to people worldwide.

This brings me back to the No Kings day vigils. There’s a 21-year-old man who plays Scottish Highland bagpipes at protest events. He first performed at a No Kings day rally in Portland, Oregon, saying, “I have bagpipes, I might as well take them to the protest … to fire people up.” In Los Angeles, he attached a respirator to his bagpipes so that he could play while tear gas swirled through the air.

This young man is at least partly inhabited by the Holy Fool, the figure in Christian history whose socially bizarre or idiosyncratic behavior reveals to us the hypocrisy of our actions and helps us to question norms we have taken for granted. Sometimes the Holy Fool uses fun as a vehicle for deeper thinking. Music, for example.

With the bagpipes in mind, I attended the most recent No Kings day vigil with a button accordion on which I played “America the Beautiful” and the Louisiana Creole dance tune, “Laissez les bons temps rouler — Let the Good Times Roll” with lyrics in both French and English. When I sang the Colombian cumbia, “Soledad,” people playfully called out, as if horrified, “No, no, no. No Spanish here.” Finally, I played the gospel song “This Train is Bound for Glory,” but with words I’d written:

“We’re here to harbor you, uh-huh,
We’re here to harbor you, uh-huh, 
Christian, Muslim, Buddhist, Jew, 
might be many, might be few, 
we’re here to harbor you, uh-huh. 

Native child or foreign born, 
from these arms you’ll not be torn.

Straight or gay, transgender, bi, 
it’s love that gives us wings to fly.
  

Angel, hipster, hangman, God,
righteous soul or angry fraud,

we’re here to harbor you, uh-huh.”

There’s also a joking verse — “Democrat, Socialist, Marxist, man, even if you’re Republican, we’re here to harbor you.” Even joking, I’m serious. Safe harbor for us all, music the pilot guiding us to that safe harbor. I plan to show up for the next No Kings day vigil, play a little music and sing a few songs, hoping that it can help us all to move forward together.

After 10 years teaching in Artist-in-Schools programs throughout the western United States, David Romtvedt served for 22 years as a professor at the University of Wyoming.

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