No Kings, No Bombs: Moab Protest Shakes Power and Politics

Doctor Chelsea McGee

Hey everyone, welcome back to The Real 4-1-1. I’m Dr. Chelsea McGee, and today, we’re not just talking about a protest. We’re talking about truth, terrain, and, honestly, the tectonic shifts of power that are shaping our world right now. So, picture this: Moab, Utah. Over 500 people—neighbors, travelers, activists—gathered under the shade of Swanny City Park, chanting “No Kings!” just a few miles from a radioactive legacy and, yeah, the shadow of military might. But here’s the thing—sometimes the loudest sound isn’t the boom of a bomb, it’s the silence left behind when communities are ignored. We’re going to dig into uranium tailings, bunker busters, and what happens when land, law, and leadership all collide. And, as always, we’re going to ask: what’s really going on beneath the headlines? Let’s unpack it.

Doctor Chelsea McGee

So, let’s start with the protest itself. Moab’s “No Kings” rally wasn’t just a blip on the news ticker. Over five hundred thirty people—yes, that’s a lot for a small town—showed up in Swanny City Park to demand protection for public lands and, honestly, for democracy itself. You had Indigenous leaders, the League of Women Voters, mutual aid groups—folks who’ve been fighting for this land and these rights for generations. The chants were powerful: “This is what democracy looks like,” and my personal favorite, “From Cane Creek to Bears Ears, No Profiteers.” There was this real sense of community, not just protest. I mean, the police barely showed up, and nobody seemed to mind. Instead, you had organizers and neighbors directing the crowd, shop owners coming out to hand out high-fives, and even a restaurant blasting the chants over their loudspeaker. It reminded me of a protest I went to back in my own hometown—local shop owners brought sandwiches for everyone, and it just felt like, I don’t know, like democracy was something you could taste and touch. It’s easy to forget, especially with all the chaos we see in the headlines, that peaceful protest is still one of the most powerful tools we have. And when it’s rooted in neighborliness and hope, it’s even stronger.

Doctor Chelsea McGee

But let’s zoom out for a second. This isn’t just about one protest. It’s about the ongoing fight over who gets to decide what happens to our land—and who gets left with the mess. Moab is still dealing with the legacy of uranium mining, and the cleanup at the old mill tailings site is a massive, years-long project. The UMTRA Project, as it’s called, is literally moving millions of tons of radioactive waste out of town. And now, there’s a push to return that land to local stewardship once the cleanup is done. That’s huge. Public lands aren’t just pretty backdrops for Instagram—they’re sacred ground, full of memory and meaning. I mean, think about it: every protest, every picnic, every quiet moment under those sunbaked trees adds another layer to the story of who belongs here. And it takes real collaboration to get justice—like when Representative Mike Kennedy and Grand County leaders toured the UMTRA site together, trying to figure out what comes next. It’s messy, it’s political, but it’s also, honestly, the only way forward if we want to honor both the land and the people who call it home.

Doctor Chelsea McGee

Now, let’s talk about the other kind of power that hangs over Moab—and, really, over all of us. I’m talking about military power, and the stories we tell about it. You’ve probably heard about the MOAB—the “Mother of All Bombs.” It’s this massive, 11-ton air-blast bomb, the biggest non-nuclear weapon in the U.S. arsenal. It was first used in Afghanistan back in 2017, and now, with all the tension around Iran’s nuclear sites, it’s back in the headlines. There’s been a lot of talk about whether Israel could use the MOAB—or something like it—to destroy Iran’s deeply buried Fordow nuclear facility. And, get this, President Trump reportedly gave the green light to transfer the MOAB to Israel, something no previous president had done. That’s a big deal. But here’s where it gets complicated: the MOAB isn’t even designed to penetrate deep underground bunkers. It’s more about shock and awe—flattening surface targets, sending a message. So, is it really about military necessity, or is it about psychological warfare? And what does it mean when the tools of war become bargaining chips in global politics? As we discussed in a previous episode about executive power and military overreach, these decisions don’t just happen in a vacuum—they shape policy, public fear, and, honestly, the stories we tell ourselves about who holds the power. The real question is, who gets to decide when and how these weapons are used? And what happens to the communities—like Moab, or Gaza, or anywhere else—who live in the shadow of these decisions?

Doctor Chelsea McGee

Alright, that’s it for today’s episode. If you’re tired of surface-level news and you want to dig deeper, make sure you subscribe to The Real 4-1-1. And hey, if you know someone who thinks public lands and foreign policy have nothing in common, send them this episode. I’d love to hear your thoughts—should bomb transfers like the MOAB be public knowledge? Drop a comment below. And if you wanna stay in the know between episodes, join the Substack for bold commentary and breakdowns. This is The Real 4-1-1—because we don’t just report the news, we dissect it. See you next time.