[UPDATE | Morning of Nov 13]
Since this piece was written, the House has officially passed the bill to end the government shutdown, and the President has signed it into law. While this development changes the headlines, it does not change the heart of this article. In many ways, it underscores it.
Two weeks ago, I wrote about the impact the government shutdown had on SNAP benefits, a piece I titled Oh, SNAP. That post serves as a precursor, setting the stage for what I want to explore today.
If you missed it, I’d recommend reading that one first, then circling back here.
Oh SNAP!
35 For I was hungry and you gave me something to eat, I was thirsty and you gave me something to drink, I was a stranger and you invited me in, 36 I needed clothes and you clothed me, I was sick and you looked after me, I was in prison and you came to visit me.’
After weeks of the longest government shutdown in American history, something unexpected happened on Sunday, November 9th.
Seven Democrats and one Independent (who caucuses with the Democratic Party) voted with Republicans to reopen the government.
You may not think it’s strange, but I do.
The very lawmakers who refused to support an earlier funding deal (that would’ve prevented a shutdown) because it excluded extending healthcare subsidies for millions are now championing a resolution that leaves those same households exposed.
So, what changed between then and now?
Nothing.
Absolutely nothing.
They caved with no guarantee that their initial demand would be met.
As annoying as that is, that’s not quite what I want to write about this week.
Our system offered two lessers: restore SNAP benefits and pay government workers, or extend healthcare subsidies for millions at risk of losing coverage or having their premiums skyrocket.
Neither comprehensive. Both urgent.
And yet, we’re being told to celebrate one while ignoring the other.
Unfortunately, we have not solved the crisis; we have merely shifted the burden.
For me, this isn’t just about what’s on the table; it’s about how the table got set, who set it, and why it only seats these two choices.
Let’s briefly interrogate what I see as three drivers:
Structural Invisibility
The quietest crises, like hunger and healthcare, are often the deadliest because they operate in media silence.
Out of sight, out of cycle.
They don’t trend or rally headlines these days unless the optics are useful.
But structural invisibility is a policy in itself.
The systems that govern food assistance and healthcare access are designed to function in the background, like plumbing. You only notice when something breaks. And even then, it’s easier to blame the flood than the faulty infrastructure.
That’s why SNAP cuts and lapsed subsidies rarely spark moral outrage; they remain invisible until the consequences are impossible to ignore, but by then, someone’s fridge is empty or their prescription has run out.
Political Theatre
Shutdowns are not policy debates; they’re performance.
We watch them unfold like a Netflix series with conflict and cliffhangers.
But this isn’t drama, it’s daily life, and it’s dysfunction.
The storylines are scripted, the players rarely change, and the people most affected are never in the room.
In this theater, hunger and healthcare became leverage, not sacred rights or signs of collective care. They’re just tools of negotiation in a partisan tug-of-war, a war we’re expected to cheer for even when the “victory” is temporary.
Because as long as people remain hungry and uninsured, how can we possibly call that a win?
Narrative Inertia
We’ve been taught to choose the lesser evil, rarely pausing to ask why those are always our only options.
But in a culture shaped by capitalism and discipled by individualism, it’s clear.
It’s easier to approve emergency measures than to reimagine the system that created the emergency.
And once that narrative sets in, anything more feels unrealistic, idealistic, or radical.
What’s truly radical, though, isn’t choosing the lesser of two evils but naming the evil of two lessers and refusing to play the game.
When crisis knocks again (and it will), may we have the courage to hold the line.
Happy trails.
Against The Grain
Against the Grain is the second newsletter from the “with Sean Dreher” Substack. It focuses on culture, conscience, and curiosity. As a missional thinker, I remind myself that Paul said not to be conformed, he didn’t say not to be informed. In these writings, I’ll wrestle with the cultural realities (and assumptions) of our day and how we can process them as followers of Jesus. It’s my best attempt at imagining what Paul would say if he were writing a letter to America.