There is an old and probably apocryphal story from the French revolution that goes like this: A bourgeois leader of the revolution is seated comfortably at a café by the side of the road in the 12th arrondissement, sipping wine and enjoying the company of a friend. Suddenly, a mob rushes by, carrying torches and pitchforks and shouting revolutionary slogans. “There go my people,” remarks the revolutionary. “I must find out where they’re going so I can lead them there.”
I’ve been thinking about this story a lot over the last few months as I’ve watched the Harrell administration struggle to respond to the growing challenge posed by Katie