My parents were born and raised in Minnesota. As were their parents and grandparents. Mom and Dad moved to New Jersey in 1971. One time I was on a train in Washington D.C. and a man asked if I was from Minnesota. “My parents are, but I’m from New Jersey. That means I have a strong ethical core but I’m probably the most aggressive Vikings fan you’ll ever meet.”
In the fall of 1994, I attended classes for a few weeks at Raritan Valley Community College. A friend picked me up on the way to class. I took my Dad’s Board of Trustees parking pass and we parked in front of the main entrance, a far better spot than other students used.
My father flipped out. As angry as I had ever seen him. “What is wrong with you? What on Earth would make you ever think that was okay?”
I fell back on the cowardly familiar “I don’t know.”
“I don’t use it when I go there and I’m not on trustee business. You dishonor me. You dishonor yourself.” Silence. And then, “I can’t believe you did this. Why do you think you deserve special treatment? That’s a huge problem with this world. People thinking they deserve special treatment. And you are becoming one of them.” He walked away. And then he came back.“You never take a benefit from a public role that other people don’t get.”
It was a brutally powerful lecture. I just sat there. Absorbing the reverberations of his words for the next half hour. Over thirty years later, I feel a deep sense of shame when I think about it.
There were other piercing lectures. In eighth grade, I lifted a paragraph from a book and put it in a paper without citing it. My dad went ballistic. “You are taking credit for something you didn’t do. It’s stealing. It’s lying. It’s terrible behavior.”
My mother’s moral instruction was also very serious, but gentler and more proactive. From my earliest days, she would read to me and then ask me how I thought the character felt. We would watch a play or movie and she’d ask “Was that the right thing to do?” or “What would you do in that situation?”
They weren’t just teaching me their values or the family’s values, but Minnesota values. That is one reason why I’ve been irritated that the always-Trumpers have labeled Minneapolis “insane” and “radical.”
Minnesota: A quick and incomplete survey
Minnesota became a state in 1858. Less than three years later, they were the first to answer Lincoln’s call for troops. Minnesota is the 22nd largest state in raw population but maintains a National Guard that is disproportionately large. They have high rates of education and low rates of crime.
Hmong refugees came to Minnesota in the 1970s and Somali refugees came in the 1990s. Because of the wildly long cold winters, Minnesota might seem like an unlikely destination for people from Southeast Asia and Africa to settle. The Lutherans and Catholics in Minneapolis have long practiced tolerance and charity and were early sponsors and organizers of refugee resettlement.
General Mills, 3M, US Bank, Cargill and Best Buy are long-standing Minnesota companies that are multi-generation employers, stable and community-supporting. US Bank wasn’t a primary driver of the 2007-08 housing crisis that rocked the world financial markets and they repaid their TARP funds early.
Minnesota values include working hard, showing up on time, being kind to others, speaking respectfully, not taking credit for other people’s work, admitting mistakes, following rules and cleaning up your own mess.
Common Minnesota phrases that reflect these values are:
- Let’s just take a breath here
- No need to make it worse
- Let’s hear them out
- I could be wrong
- We all still have to live together
- Well…that’s something
Take a moment to think about your warmest elementary school teacher or your calmest coach or the sweetest person at church or the most helpful person at your first job. That’s the spirit of Minnesota.
It is because of that history of military service, civic participation, rule following, charity towards others, stable companies and rock-solid values that this moment of dissent in Minnesota should be read as a warning signal and not a sign of radicalism.
True Patriotic Moments

In 1770, British soldiers murdered five Bostonians who were heckling them. The rest of the almost-fledgling United States was appalled. Samuel Adams wrote “Innocent colonists murdered by the vicious British soldiers on our own American soil. Not only do they tax us without a vote, now they are murdering us in the streets of Boston.”

In 1970, Ohio National Guardsmen fired 67 shots at student protesters on the Kent State campus. Four students were killed and several more were injured. Most U.S. citizens were horrified, but there was a small minority who believed the protesters brought it on themselves. President Nixon appointed a commission to evaluate what happened and their report stated that “the indiscriminate firing of rifles into a crowd of students and the deaths that followed were unnecessary, unwarranted, and inexcusable.”
Many Americans today like to think that they would have participated in the Underground Railroad. And that they would have hidden Anne Frank. They like to think that they are like the most heroic Americans of the 1850s or Europeans of the 1940s.

And yet, a common refrain that is often uttered in 21st century America is “I can’t get involved, I’ve got bills to pay.” Not very brave or civic minded. And certainly not the Underground Railroad or hide Anne Frank type.
The Boston Massacre. Kent State. The Underground Railroad. Anne Frank. Dissent has often looked radical to the comfortable.
Comfort without Responsibility
The Great Gatsby was published in 1925 and set on Long Island and in New York City. Several of the main characters are vain, selfish, spiteful, untrustworthy and materialistic. Tom Buchanan is an arrogant, out-and-out racist and adulterer. Jordan Baker cheats at golf. Daisy kills a woman while driving and doesn’t stop.
Nick Carraway is the narrator and moral conscience of the story. He is from the Midwest, and is the stand-in for F. Scott Fitzgerald (who was, significantly, born and raised in Minnesota and educated in New Jersey).
The book opens with Nick sharing some advice from his father: “Whenever you feel like criticizing any one… just remember that all the people in this world haven’t had the advantages that you’ve had.”
A few years ago, Nick’s lines about Tom and Daisy Buchanan swirled around the internet as a commentary about a few particular American political figures: “They were careless people, Tom and Daisy — they smashed up things and creatures and then retreated back into their money or their vast carelessness.”

Universal Lessons
In school, American students learn about the tyranny of George III. We read about the revolutionary patriots who fought organized powers that invaded their streets and entered their houses without permission or warrants.
American students learn about Italian, German and Japanese fascism. About the violence, cruelty and lawlessness of those governments. We celebrate the noble allies who sacrificed so much to defeat them. Robert Gibson died on January 12, 2026 at the age of 102. He fought at Utah Beach and in the Battle of the Bulge. Whenever he talked about the war, he concluded his remarks with “we did this for you, so don’t screw it up.”
American students learn about the non-violent civil disobedience practiced by Gandhi, Dr. King, John Lewis, Lech Walesa and Nelson Mandela. How each one of them stood up to oppressive power, took blows without striking back and won over enough supporters until they fundamentally changed their countries.
Popular culture reinforced these lessons in The Lord of the Rings and Star Wars.
Lessons Applied
The people of Minneapolis have made their values clear. They
- don’t want parents ripped away from their children
- don’t believe people should be stopped and asked for papers
- don’t believe someone should be beaten or shot or killed for filming the actions of federal agents
- don’t believe the government can kick down your door without a warrant
- don’t believe people should be chemically sprayed in the face when they are already restrained
- don’t believe in masked government agents
I was born in 1976. The 1990s saw a high level of peace and prosperity. The footage of black people being attacked by dogs and Americans murdered in the streets were from historical films in black and white. The bad guys around the world had mostly been defeated. Things were seemingly getting better year by year. I’ve oversimplified it, but I think you get the point.
I tell my students today that society wasn’t like this when I was their age. People were friendlier, warmer, more social and less scared. Adults seemed to be responsible and calm. Since 9/11, Americans are more isolated, quicker to anger, less trusting but paradoxically more gullible, more selfish, more arrogant and utterly less responsible. We have seemed to forget those lessons from King George to The Great Gatsby to World War II to Dr. King to Star Wars. It is something that makes me quite sad.
And yet. This January, I have seen civic-minded, values-based, non-violent patriotism in action on the streets of Minneapolis. At this moment, the best of America is represented in Minnesota. But here’s the thing, there are people who are like that in every state.
From The Three Lessons from Minneapolis that was published in The Atlantic yesterday:
What the good and brave patriots of Minneapolis are demonstrating is, in Serwer’s words, “a real resistance, broad and organized and overwhelmingly nonviolent, the kind of movement that emerges only under sustained attacks by an oppressive state.”
The feeling of powerlessness that so many Americans have struggled with during Trump’s second term is giving way to a sense of greater agency. Courage inspires courage. Success inspires imitation. Living in truth; cultivating the sphere of truth; joining together to stand for truth and against intimidation, repression, and state-sanctioned violence—all of this still matters.
“The historical record clearly shows,” Erica Chenoweth and Maria J. Stephan wrote, “that civil resistance is an enduring force for change.” Not everyone is beyond reach.
Again and again in American history, the places accused of disorder turn out to be the places insisting that the rules still matter. Minnesota belongs to that tradition.
My Minnesota. Our Minnesota. America’s Minnesota.


