When Zach Bryan shared new lyrics online — verses about cops, ICE, and “the fading of the red, white and blue” — people immediately took sides.
Supporters called it a protest song for a broken generation. Critics said it disrespects the rule of law.
Both may be missing the deeper point: America is built on laws, not emotions.
That idea goes back to John Adams, who wrote in 1780 that this must always be “a government of laws, and not of men.” If we forget that, no song, slogan, or speech can save us.
The Foundation: Sovereignty and Responsibility
The United States has borders. That is not a partisan statement; it’s a constitutional one.
A nation without borders cannot protect its people or its principles. Sovereignty is not about shutting the world out — it’s about preserving order so liberty can survive within.
When immigration enforcement becomes politicized, when agencies like ICE are either demonized or weaponized, we lose something vital: trust in the rule of law. And once trust erodes, chaos fills the space it leaves behind.
What the Lyrics Reveal
Before diving into the message, it’s important to understand the messenger.
Zach Bryan is a Navy veteran turned country music artist from Oklahoma who rose to fame by uploading unpolished, heartfelt songs recorded on his phone. His authenticity and working-class storytelling have made him one of America’s most relatable voices — a man who still speaks the language of everyday people, even as his music fills arenas.
In early October 2025, Bryan shared a song teaser on Instagram titled “The Fading of the Red, White, and Blue,” which quickly sparked discussion nationwide.
You can view that teaser here: Zach Bryan’s Instagram Post.
Bryan’s lyrics are raw and honest from his perspective:
“Didn’t wake up dead or in jail, some out-of-town boys been giving us hell.”
“The cops came, cocky motherfuckers, ain’t they?”
“And ICE is gonna come bust down your door, try and build a house no one builds no more.”
“The middle fingers rising and it won’t stop showing, got some bad news, the fading of the red, white and blue.”
These lines capture a generational mood — defiance, disillusionment, and a deep sense that America’s institutions have lost their moral compass.
It’s poetry from a man grounded in working-class experience — one who’s seen both sides of the system and feels betrayed by it.
His honesty gives the song its power. But honesty alone doesn’t define truth.
Emotional truth and factual truth are not always the same thing. A song can express what people feel is wrong without identifying why it went wrong.
That’s the challenge of our times — we live in a culture that rewards raw emotion more than reasoned judgment. Music, social media, and politics have all blurred the line between sincerity and accuracy.
Zach Bryan is telling his truth — and it resonates because so many Americans feel unheard and unseen. But in a republic, emotion cannot be the final authority.
Feelings can reveal injustice, but they cannot replace evidence. Passion can expose hypocrisy, but it cannot rewrite the Constitution.
When emotion becomes the measure of right and wrong, truth becomes negotiable — and once truth is negotiable, so is freedom.
Bryan’s words have meaning because they expose frustration; our job as citizens is to turn that frustration into responsibility, not rebellion.
That’s the difference between a movement that builds and a mob that destroys.
John Adams and the Republic That Endures
When Adams wrote “a government of laws, and not of men,” he was speaking from experience. He had seen monarchs rule by decree and mobs rule by rage.
He knew that once people, not principles, start deciding what’s legal, freedom disappears.
That’s why the Constitution built limits — checks, balances, courts, elections — to restrain both leaders and crowds.
The rule of law is what allows free people to argue, protest, and sing without fear. Remove it, and what replaces it isn’t liberty; it’s anarchy dressed as justice.
Law and Emotion: Finding the Line
Bryan’s verse — “ICE is gonna come bust down your door” — channels the anger many feel toward enforcement heavy-handedness.
But it also forces an uncomfortable question: what happens if enforcement stops altogether?
If laws at the border become optional — if entry, documentation, and citizenship are treated as suggestions instead of statutes — then the United States ceases to function as a sovereign republic and begins to look more like a geographic region.
And regions don’t protect rights; they survive on whoever wields the most power at the time.
When enforcement breaks down, so does the social contract that binds a nation together.
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Economically, local workers face wage suppression, small towns strain under unfunded services, and legitimate immigrants who followed the rules are punished for doing it the right way.
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Legally, courts are overwhelmed, cities ignore federal mandates, and citizens begin to question why laws apply to them but not to others.
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Culturally, the idea of a unified people — “one nation under God, indivisible” — gives way to fragmented enclaves defined by competing loyalties and divided governance.
History shows what happens when a country lets borders and enforcement become political bargaining chips.
The fall of the Roman Republic didn’t begin with one invasion — it began when its own politicians refused to enforce the rules that held the republic together. The same pattern unfolded in modern Europe, where open-border policies have strained national identities and overwhelmed public systems.
Once law becomes negotiable, authority migrates to whoever can fill the vacuum — cartels, traffickers, foreign interests, or opportunistic politicians.
At that point, government is no longer protecting the people; it’s reacting to power.
That’s why the border debate isn’t just about immigration. It’s about whether the rule of law still means something in America.
Because without consistent enforcement, a nation of laws becomes a nation of loopholes — and freedom cannot survive in that environment.
The Border as a Mirror
The border tells us who we are as a people.
Do we have compassion without losing control? Do we defend sovereignty without losing our soul?
A sovereign nation can be merciful, but it cannot be lawless.
Legal immigration, fair asylum, humane treatment — all are possible when laws are respected. None are possible when they’re ignored.
The real tragedy isn’t that ICE exists — it’s that Washington has allowed immigration law to become a permanent campaign issue instead of a working system. That’s where reform must begin.
The Middle Fingers Rising
Bryan sings, “The middle fingers rising and it won’t stop showing.”
That line stings because it feels true — Americans are angry, cynical, and divided.
But if rebellion becomes our only language, the republic falls silent.
Anger without principle leads nowhere. Law without accountability becomes abuse. The balance between the two is where freedom lives.
Recommitment to the Rule of Law
John Adams’s warning was simple but eternal: when passion replaces principle, republics die.
The rule of law protects the artist’s right to criticize, the agent’s right to enforce, and the citizen’s right to disagree.
It’s the invisible agreement that holds this country together.
Zach Bryan gave us his anthem for frustration.
John Adams gave us the antidote.
And Benjamin Franklin gave us the reminder: “A republic, if you can keep it.”
Franklin’s words weren’t a boast — they were a challenge. A republic is not self-sustaining; it must be maintained by citizens who respect law more than personality, and truth more than popularity.
That quote is as relevant today as it was in 1787. Every time we let anger overrule order or politics overshadow principle, we test whether we can still keep the republic Franklin and Adams helped build.
Look, we can debate policy. We can argue about ICE, policing, and politics. We can sing about the “fading of the red, white and blue.”
But if we abandon the rule of law, the flag won’t just fade — it will fall.
America must remain a nation of laws — not of men.
That’s how sovereignty survives.
That’s how freedom endures.
That’s how we keep the republic.
Disclaimer:
This op-ed represents the editorial perspective of The Craig Bushon Show Media Team. The views expressed are for informational and public commentary purposes only. References to public figures, organizations, or government agencies are used under fair comment and do not imply endorsement. All quoted lyrics © Zach Bryan, used for critical discussion under fair use.
