I love some good utopian storytelling. I like Star Trek, for crying out loud.

But there’s a problem with utopian stories that tell you that utopia is possible as an endpoint, as something that can be reached and, once reached, cannot be lost—like reaching Heaven and being blessed and content forevermore. That utopia is static. It’s locked in place, unchanging. And because this promised ‘utopia as an endpoint’ is so stable, so permanent, so inherently capital ‘g’ Good, you can justify any action to reach it.

You can justify holy war, as so many religious ideologues have done before. You can justify murder, kidnapping, assault, abuse, and torture, as the Trump administration has done in defending ICE and DHS. You can justify calling violent men peacemakers, as DHS has done in its recruitment ads.

All of that cruelty and brutality and wickedness is worth it, all of that is justified, if you can just reach your utopian vision. Heaven on Earth, at least for those believers who follow your faith. Heaven on Earth, for those who are left—true-blooded Americans, the chosen people, the master race, whatever you want to call your target audience.

The problem is, the real world does not stand still. Our world is impermanent. We cannot reach Heaven on Earth, because our world is ever-changing.

What we can do is try to make our world better. Every step along our path shapes the final result. The ends will not justify the means. Those who seek Heaven with fire and the sword will make Hell.

I’m not a total pacifist. I simply understand that violence does not build, or nurture. It does not feed the hungry, or clothe the needy, or remedy your ills. If you want to make the world a better place, look elsewhere. And keep working at it, because the world will not stand still for you, will not let you dust off your hands and say, “Done.”

Real-world utopias? They’re aspirations, not end points. Utopia is about a goal, something you work towards, something you maintain, something that needs to adapt in order to persevere. Utopia takes work, constant work. It takes caring for others, offering support where it is needed and not just where it is comfortable to give.

So think, every time you hear someone promise that they’ll make things better: how? What will that look like? What will happen next?

When someone offers to lead you to the Promised Land, be it Canaan or Deutschland Uber Alles or a newly Great America, what are they asking you to sacrifice in order to reach that place? Who are they asking you to sacrifice?

Whose blood must be spilt? Whose blood is it okay for you to spill?

Are they handing you grapevines and plowshares, or fire and sword?