You Work For Us
An American citizen's opening statement to a Congress that ha
Most people have dreams. Mine is probably stranger than most. I’ve never dreamed of being famous, holding office, or becoming part of the political machine. One of my dreams is much simpler: to sit in front of members of Congress, look them in the eye, and tell them exactly what millions of Americans are thinking but rarely get the chance to say out loud.
Chairman, Ranking Member, Members of Congress and fellow Americans:
I am here today simply as an American citizen.
I’m not a lobbyist.
I’m not a donor.
And I’m not a political operative.
I’m not here looking for access, favors, appointments, contracts, or permission.
I am here as one of the people you work for.
And that is a fundamental truth this institution desperately needs to remember.
I’m here to make one thing very clear:
You don’t sit above us.
You don’t rule us.
You don’t own the government.
You don’t own the Constitution.
And you certainly don’t own the sovereign wealth of this nation or our children’s future.
You are temporary stewards of delegated power. And that power does not originate in this building. It does not flow from your party leadership, nor does it belong to donors, lobbyists, consultants, bureaucrats, or cable news studios that feed off this city.
It originates with us.
The American people.
And the American people are done being treated like props in your performance.
We are done with the hearings where the viral clip matters more than the truth.
We are done with the fake outrage, the rehearsed speeches, the dramatic pauses, the cynical finger-pointing, and the moral lectures from people who vote one way in front of the cameras and negotiate another way behind closed doors.
Too many of you have confused attention with accountability.
You grandstand when the microphones are live and then hide when the hard votes are called.
You condemn the national debt while consistently voting for more of it.
You condemn executive overreach when the opposing party controls the White House, then excuse it when your party takes control.
You demand transparency from your opponents, then bury your own work in thousand-page bills, procedural tricks, classified briefings, and backroom deals.
You campaign as constitutional warriors and govern as members of a protected political class.
That is not representation.
That is theater.
And the American people are tired of paying for the production.
So let me be blunt.
I look around this room, and I don’t see the statesmen this republic was promised.
I don’t see public servants humbled by the immense weight of their duty.
I don’t see men and women trembling under the responsibility of spending other people’s money, sending other people’s children to war, and writing laws that ordinary citizens must live under.
Instead, I see a protected political class.
I see profiteers of polarization.
I see thieves in tailored suits.
I see vultures circling the next crisis, the next tragedy, the next war, the next border failure, the next school shooting, or the next economic panic — not to solve it, but to strip it for fundraising copy, campaign ads, cable news hits, and social media clips.
Perhaps some of you are decent people.
Maybe some of you came here for the right reasons.
Perhaps some of you still remember what public service was supposed to mean.
But if you do, you are the exception.
Not the rule.
Because the institutional rule in this town is self-preservation.
Party first.
Donor first.
Camera first.
And country eventually, maybe, if the polling aligns and leadership permits it.
That is why Americans are pissed.
We’re not confused.
We’re not misinformed.
We’re not radicalized.
We are finally paying attention.
And we see the performance.
We see the fake fights.
We see the staged outrage.
We see the way this body feeds off every crisis while pretending to solve it.
You don’t heal the wound.
You campaign next to it.
You don’t stop the bleeding.
You monetize the blood.
And then you have the temerity to look into the camera and call it leadership.
But I’ll be honest.
The anger is bigger than individual members of Congress.
Americans are fed up with the duopoly in this town.
We’re done with the insulting system where two political parties campaign like mortal enemies, govern like business partners, and then demand the rest of us pretend we have an actual meaningful choice.
For decades now, you have conditioned Americans to vote from a place of fear.
Vote for us because the other side is catastrophic.
Hold your nose.
Be realistic.
Choose the lesser of two evils.
That shit is over.
When nearly half of this country identifies as independent, it is not a sign of apathy.
It’s not confusion.
It’s not some temporary mood swing.
It’s a warning.
It’s the sound of millions of Americans walking away from your bullshit.
We’ve had enough of choosing between two factions that constantly scream at each other in front of the cameras while quietly, in back rooms, protecting the same debt machine, the same surveillance apparatus, the same lobbyist economy, and the same tired Washington, D.C. power structure.
You call it leadership.
We call it collusion with better branding.
Your old threats are losing their power.
Your old fear campaigns are wearing thin.
And the argument that citizens have to choose between two horrible options is collapsing under its own weight.
People have stopped asking which option is less destructive.
They’re starting to ask why these are the only options in the first place.
Now, I’m sure some of you have already tuned me out.
And that’s fine.
By all means, keep doing so.
Because every one of you should understand something very clearly:
Your incumbency isn’t a birthright.
That seat doesn’t belong to you.
Your party label isn’t a shield anymore.
Your fundraising advantage isn’t a mandate.
And your committee title doesn’t mean shit to us anymore.
Your political careers have expiration dates.
And for a growing number of Americans, that date can’t come soon enough.
That’s not a threat.
It’s a formal notice.
Our republic doesn’t belong to you.
It belongs to us.
The people who grant you the privilege of serving.
And guess what?
We’re waking up.
You wanted America to be “woke”?
Congratulations.
You got it.
We’re tracking the spending.
We’re recording your votes.
We’re watching the procedural cowardice.
We see who only finds courage when the cameras are turned on.
We see who treats the suffering of ordinary Americans as backdrops for campaign material.
And we remember.
We remember the promises and the betrayals.
We remember the emergency spending packages rushed through for foreign interests while we’re told there aren’t enough resources for us.
We remember the surveillance powers expanded in the name of safety.
We remember the wars fought without a declaration.
We remember the thousands of pages of legislation passed before they were ever read.
And we’re done playing along.
Your job isn’t to trend on social media.
Your job isn’t to build a personal brand.
Your job isn’t to audition for a cable news contract.
Your job isn’t to serve party leadership.
Your job is to represent your districts, your states, and your country.
Your job is to represent the people, defend the Constitution, control spending, restrain federal power, and answer to us — the citizens who sent you here.
That’s the constitutional arrangement you agreed to.
We don’t answer to you.
You answer to us.
So here is what we expect:
Read the bills.
Show up for the votes.
Stop hiding behind your party’s leadership.
Stop outsourcing your duties to unelected agencies, the courts, and bureaucrats.
Stop using procedural tricks to hide your cowardice.
Stop treating public service as a career ladder to personal wealth, lobbying, or media influence.
Stop using every crisis as a campaign backdrop.
And stop assuming Americans will indefinitely crawl back into a two-party cage because you’ve scared us into believing there is no other option.
We’re done holding our noses.
You’ve been warned.
Not with chaos.
Not with mobs.
Not with violence.
But with memory, organization, pressure, votes, and the sovereign authority of a free people who are thoroughly unimpressed by your titles and your performance.
You’re not lords.
You’re not dukes.
You’re not earls.
You’re not royalty of any kind.
And Congress isn’t a castle.
It’s a chamber of representation.
So start representing.
Start serving.
Start restraining power.
Start defending the framework you swore an oath to protect.
And remember every single damn day that American citizens are not beneath you.
You are beneath the law.
You are beneath the Constitution.
And you are beneath the sovereign authority of the American people.
So start acting like it.
In Liberty,
Gary Mullins (Libertas)