Jean Lewandowski is a retired special needs teacher. She lives in Nashua.

There’s no point in continuing to agonize over every greedy, cruel, lawless, corrupt action of the Trump regime. Outrage is warranted but impotent, and if we’re not careful, our hearts will break. Despotism depends on despair, so our work in this moment depends on finding sources of courage.

History often offers illumination and inspiration.

Aldous Huxley published The Devils of Loudun during America’s McCarthy era “witch-hunts.” Using a remarkable trove of letters and documents, he pieced together a story of human frailty, societal subjugation, political ruthlessness and corruption and courageous resistance that echoes loudly through the “Red Scare” of the 1950s and into our present moment from nearly 400 years ago.

In the early 17th Century, in an Ursuline convent at Loudun, France, young Sister Jeanne became infatuated with a lusty parson. Though she knew him only by reputation, her feelings were so overwhelming and disturbing that she became convinced he had summoned a demon to possess her. The priest overseeing the convent and his friends in the town had real-world problems with the lusty parson and were happy to reinforce the nun’s belief at his expense.

Sister Jeanne began having nightmares, screaming obscenities and striking bizarre, lewd poses. Exorcists were sent for, word got around and it all went viral.

First, the possessions spread through the convent. Other nuns began acting out their lurid parts while priests performed the sacred rites. The nuns were tied up, beaten and otherwise humiliated.

The public demanded to witness these spectacles. Crowds grew from hundreds to thousands, so larger venues were found. Business at the town’s taverns and shops boomed as people came from miles around to unload their rage and anxieties on the nuns and enjoy the party atmosphere, whether they believed in demonic possession or not.

Those spearheading these events amplified the nuns’ accusations against the parson, and he was eventually arrested and imprisoned. When he was found guilty of sorcery, tortured and burned alive, thousands more gathered to verbally and physically torment him and celebrate this victory of good over evil.

Meanwhile, at Versailles, the king and his court took note. Huxley writes, “If the people could be convinced that Loudun was but the beachhead of a regular invasion from hell, then it might be possible to revive the Inquisition in France. And how convenient that would be! How greatly it would facilitate the Cardinal’s [Richelieu] self-appointed task of centralizing all power in the absolute monarchy! As we know from our own experiences of such secular devils as the Jews, the Communists, the Bourgeois Imperialists, the best way to establish and justify a police state is to keep harping on the dangers of a Fifth Column.”

In our own context, that term would be “the homegrowns,” and we’re already seeing police state actions escalate.

Huxley continues, “Radical Evil now incarnates itself not in sorcerers and magicians… but in the representatives of some hated class or nation. The springs of action and the rationalizations have undergone a certain change; but the hatreds motivated and the ferocities justified are all too familiar.”

Seventy years later, the MAGA movement has focused hatreds and ferocities heavily on immigrants, accusing them of rampant criminality, terrorism, cannibalism, laziness, greed and disease. The lawless and dehumanizing tactics it’s using to “exorcise” them are not so different from what was done in Loudun, and to similar effect: fear, hatred and violence have spread far beyond any harm the immigrants themselves were doing.

The parallels between the corruption of Loudun and America’s present situation are obvious, but just as important are the stories of resistance and compassion.

One of the priests, Father Surin, knew the nuns’ suffering was man-made. For weeks, he met daily with Sister Jeanne, guiding her back to health. Many townspeople denounced the exorcisms. Some helped and comforted the parson, even embracing him as flames began to rise. Others wrote to beg officials to stop the perversions of faith.

They failed in that regard, but they did something vital: They recorded for history how powerful people invited the devils, nurtured them and, by practicing and promoting cruelty, became them. In doing so, the resistance preserved an incorruptible well of humanity that eventually helped the town recover and still inspires us.

Knowing what we know, then, what can we do in this moment? First, we speak the truth.

When powerful people blame scapegoats for social ills, they’re lying. When less powerful people form angry mobs and repeat the lies, they are both sadly mistaken and dangerous. When anyone celebrates or justifies others’ suffering, they are appealing not to justice, but to our worst instincts, and we can refuse to participate.

As we resist tyranny, we fight for human dignity. Every time we offer comfort, food, clothing, shelter and friendship; every time we insist that liberty and justice for all means what it says; every time we gather to encourage one another, we both protect our own humanity and build collective strength.

We remember Father Surin and the good people of Loudun because they were the courageous ones. Now it’s our turn.