Navigating Through a Whiteout: An Antidote to Chaos
A few years ago, I booked a ski trip for my family with back-to-back dates in two different locations. This meant that, on a specific day, we needed to drive a fairly straightforward, 65-mile route from one Colorado town to another—albeit a route that crosses the Continental Divide twice. And, of course, it was going to be winter.
I watched the weather for the two days leading up to that drive, so I knew the storm was coming. We talked about our options. We could head back home for a couple of nights, then make the drive back up into the mountains. We could try to find a couple of hotel rooms for the five of us and all our stuff for those same nights. Or we could risk making the move through the storm. No one wanted to go home and miss the ski days, hotel rooms were in short supply, and it looked like maybe the storm would be abating when we had to leave. After weighing the options and risks, we decided to attempt the drive.
When we left, things did seem better, though still not great. As it turned out, however, the predicted timing of the storm's abatement was a bit off.
I've had some nasty winter drives, and this was definitely one of the worst. Sometimes it was snowing hard; other times it was snowing really hard. The wind blasted the snow horizontally across the road, the car, and my field of vision. Sometimes, I could see the road; other times I could see some indication of where the road was, like roadside vegetation or reflector posts. Other times all I could see was white.
I'm not going to attempt enumerating the storm of executive orders, internal policy changes, firings (real and threatened), announcements of potential territorial additions to the US (Gaza, Canada, Panama, Greenland; are there others?), and so on that we have seen from the new administration. Nor will I speculate on what is happening under the cover of DOGE. Whole news organizations are (heroically) attempting to track this for us. But I will say that, obviously, it’s a lot. Dizzying is the word that comes to mind.
In a whiteout, the snow on the ground and the snow or fog in the air make it impossible to discern the terrain. In a true whiteout, all visual references vanish and with them, your spatial orientation. In those conditions, it becomes impossible to know whether or how fast you are moving. You can even lose track of up and down. The disorientation can make you fall over or even vomit.
As an avid skier, I've been in true whiteout conditions a few times and in many near whiteouts. The worst of these have been in the comparatively featureless terrain above tree line, but even when you're in a place with landmarks, the experience is disorienting.
That day on our drive, I could always see the inside of the car, so I could orient up and down, but it was very hard to maintain clear perception of speed, direction, and the location of the road. I don't remember how long the drive took, but I do remember creeping along, often at less than ten miles an hour. There were times when all I could see were the highway reflector posts--and there were substantial gaps between those where I was blind. In between, I held my course, watched my speedometer, then readjusted when the next post emerged out of the white chaos.
For me, it's helpful to think of our current national moment as a kind of whiteout1. The chaos of orders, changes, threats, tariffs, firings, retributions, and deportations is, like an actual whiteout, dizzying. To be clear, this is no accident. Disorientation is a key part of the strategy we're all experiencing.
In theory, if you're in a whiteout, stopping and waiting it out is the right strategy. But, if you're on the road in a car, stopping is likely to lead to an accident when the next vehicle comes along. If you're on the top of a mountain, stopping is a recipe for hypothermia. So, in reality, you're usually better off if you keep moving. The strategy for moving through whiteout conditions is something like the following: Be prepared; find landmarks; use navigation tools if you have them; if you lose balance, close your eyes and let gravity remind you of up and down; keep your companions close; remember that panic is your enemy; move with intention
On that stormy day, the drive was hard and exhausting, but I was prepared. My car had excellent snow tires. I had extra food and water and warm clothes in case we ended up stranded. I had good navigation tools and, if they failed, I'd written down the route. I had years of experience driving in adverse conditions. I was sometimes afraid, but I didn't panic.
In the end, things turned out well. We arrived safely, and the next day was a brilliant day of powder skiing. In hindsight, that my decision to make that drive was right because the outcome was positive. In reality, though, things could have gone much worse. While my decision to drive was into the storm a necessary precondition for getting our beautiful powder day, taking that risk didn't guarantee any particular outcome, good or bad.
The other day I was reading the "Snow" chapter in Thomas Mann's The Magic Mountain, which includes a character who gets caught out in a winter storm. As I read, I thought about my own experiences in winter weather, and I realized the similarity between that feeling and my feelings in the current political and cultural chaos.
You could say it's not the same. After all, the weather is just the weather. It has no strategy or intent to disorient. Still, as I said above, this moment does feel like a whiteout, and I do think that one of the biggest problems we face IS our disorientation. (How many conversations have you had that included some flavor of ‘How the f*ck can you even keep up with what is going on’?) If this is true, then maybe some version of what works to orient yourself in an actual whiteout can be an antidote to this current chaos, and maybe that looks something like this:
Stop questioning it. Accept that we are in the midst of a huge cultural storm.
Use your values and core beliefs as landmarks to help orient and navigate.
Remember that we're prepared for this moment. There are many groups and individuals who have been doing exactly the kind of work that needs to be done. In many cases, they've been doing for generations against long or impossible odds.
Find trustworthy travelling companions (see #3).
Stay grounded.
Above all, keep moving forward with intention.
As with my drive on that stormy day, there's no guarantee that our actions will result in a positive outcome, but I’m sure that taking thoughtful, strategic action is a necessary precondition for things getting better. And to take that action, we have to choose to walk or drive or fly into this storm. (Sound of coat zipping, door opening and closing.)
(A note on the pictures: As I was looking through my photos for those that would be a good fit for this piece, I realized that there is a good reason that no one takes pictures in a white out….)
There are, of course, two metaphorical connections here: The meteorological one and the idea of whiteness as an obliterating force...
A powerful metaphor! Really enjoyed this!
An apt analogy and very well said. Your steps are also wise. You also managed to trigger my sliding off the side of a mountain in a blizzard fear, lol.