America has long been celebrated as the land of the free — a place where agency, independence and self-determination are enshrined in our national mythos. Whether idealizing the rugged frontiersman or the daring entrepreneur, Americans take pride in the idea of forging their own paths. Yet despite these stated ideals, we often surrender our liberty in surprising ways.

Compliance is the act of going along with something — often imposed by a person or system — through reactive or passive obedience. It’s vandalizing a book on command, going against our better judgment when someone tells us to or administering electric shocks to another person, as in Stanley Milgram’s famous experiments. We say yes when we could and should say no.

Experiments I’ve conducted suggest that Americans regularly comply with advice even when they know it is bad. In a series of studies, I gave participants obviously poor recommendations to choose a clearly subpar lottery over one in which they stood to win twice as much. I found that compliance rates soared as high as 85%. In a nation that so cherishes independence, why are we so inclined to comply?

The answer may lie in our misunderstanding of compliance.

Compliance and consent are often conflated, yet they are fundamentally different. Compliance is reactive and externally dictated, imposed by systems or authority figures who give little room to say no. Consent, by contrast, is a thoroughly considered authorization reflecting one’s deeply held values.

For consent to be valid, five elements must be present: capacity (the competence to make decisions), knowledge (of risks, benefits and alternatives), understanding (a grasp of the facts), freedom (from coercion) and finally, authorization (giving your informed consent or informed refusal). This definition, rooted in medicine, highlights that consent is not merely saying “yes” but making an informed, voluntary decision. Without all five elements, consent cannot exist, and compliance fills the void.

Defiance is the flip side of the consent coin — it requires the same five elements to act in alignment with one’s values, especially when there is pressure to do otherwise. Defiance is not necessarily loud, bold, violent or angry. It can be the quiet determination to live your life in a way that reflects your values. It’s a skill, not a personality trait, that can be learned and practiced by anyone.

But from an early age, we are taught that compliance is good and defiance is bad. Obedience is ingrained in us before we even realize it. When my son was just a year old, we moved to Pittsburgh, where nursery staff at a daycare encouraged parents to buy Steelers onesies for the babies. I asked, “What if he’s not a Steelers fan?” I’ll never forget the look on the carer’s face. It immediately made me backtrack: “Of course, he is a Steelers fan!” The message was clear: We all need to pledge allegiance to this team, and deviation is unthinkable — perhaps even detrimental to the care my son would receive.

This seemingly lighthearted anecdote reflects the way Americans thrive on emotional allegiance, whether to a person, leader, team or party. We’re often expected to be strongly for or against something without seeing both the positives and negatives of each stance. And in pledging such loyalty, we become more socialized to comply without questioning whether these polarizing norms align with our values.

One glaring example of compliance masquerading as defiance is voting along party lines out of tradition or allegiance, rather than values. Many voters believe they are acting independently, when in reality, their decisions are dictated by social pressures, emotional attachments or familial expectations. This is also true of “false defiance,” when someone reflexively votes against their perceived enemy party — an act that reinforces conformity, rather than challenging it.

Contrast this with figures such as Republican Liz Cheney, who defied her party to uphold her principles. Her stance came with significant personal and professional costs, but it exemplified values-based defiance: choosing integrity over allegiance. Similarly, Kyrsten Sinema’s votes challenged the Democratic Party when she was a member, demonstrating that defiance is not bound by ideology but by acting in alignment with one’s values.

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Social pressure compounds the challenge to be defiant. In my research I have documented a phenomenon I call “ insinuation anxiety,” discomfort toward signaling that someone — particularly an authority figure — might be wrong, biased or untrustworthy. In health care, patients often agree to procedures they don’t understand out of deference to doctors; in workplaces, employees remain silent when witnessing unethical behavior, fearing repercussions. This anxiety traps us in a cycle of compliance even when it is clearly in conflict with our values.

The risks of defiance are often highlighted: ostracism, professional consequences or backlash. But the costs of compliance are rarely discussed. Compliance erodes agency, perpetuates inequality and often leads to harmful outcomes, such as silence about unethical practices in workplaces that enable toxic cultures to thrive. In health care, patients who comply with recommendations they don’t understand or agree with may face unnecessary risks, losing their sense of autonomy in the process.

As historian Timothy Snyder warns in “On Tyranny,” “Don’t obey in advance.” History and current events show us that unchecked compliance — whether in politics, workplaces or communities — can have devastating consequences.

Despite these challenges, there is hope. Rosa Parks is rightly celebrated for her act of defiance, which was courageous — and deliberate, carefully planned and deeply rooted in her values. But defiance doesn’t belong to heroes or historical figures alone; it’s accessible to everyone. It starts with small acts: questioning a manager’s inappropriate comment, asking a doctor at a for-profit clinic why a procedure is necessary or speaking up against a harmful comment. Each of these moments strengthens our ability to align our actions with our values, and the ripple effect can reshape workplaces, communities and entire societies.

America prides itself on individualism, but that identity can thrive only if we learn to practice defiance when it matters most and recognize it for what it is: not rebellion, but alignment; not tearing down authority but upholding principles. It’s about breaking free from patterns that disconnect us from our values and creating a culture that supports integrity, justice and equity — not because someone else said so, but because we chose those values.

By embracing defiance, we reclaim not only our agency but also our collective ability to create the society we imagine, based on agency and freedom rather than fear and acquiescence. Compliance may be our default, but it doesn’t have to be our destiny.

Sunita Sah, a physician turned organizational psychologist, is a professor at SC Johnson College of Business at Cornell University, a fellow at Cornell’s Health Policy Center and at Cambridge Judge Business School, and the author of “Defy: The Power of No in a World That Demands Yes.” She wrote this column for the Los Angeles Times.

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Daylight saving time begins this weekend, and while most folks love it with the late sunsets, hardcore stargazers like myself aren’t crazy about it because we have to stay up later to begin our stargazing adventures. We’re in the minority, though. During this first week of daylight saving time, we can look forward to a very late night total lunar eclipse or, as they’re popularly known, a blood moon. Just after midnight early Friday, March 14, the moon cuts across part of Earth’s ruddy shadow.

Let’s hope and pray for clear skies because it’s a great spectacle, especially during the nearly an hour of totality this time. Unlike a total solar eclipse you don’t need any special equipment to take in the show. You don’t need dark welder’s glass or to project the image of the eclipse through a pinhole. It’s perfectly safe to stare directly at lunar eclipses for as long as you want with your naked eyes. You can even use a telescope. A word of caution though: Staring at any full moon can bring about a little madness in some people! Lunar eclipses are also great because they can be seen anywhere in the world where the full moon is visible during the time of the eclipse.

(Mike Lynch)

As you can see in the diagram, lunar eclipses occur when the moon, in its monthly orbit around our Earth, passes through the shadow produced by our planet. This can only happen when the moon is full. Normally, with full moons, the side of the moon facing the Earth is in full sunshine, but during a lunar eclipse, the moon slips into Earth’s shadow. This doesn’t happen every time there’s a full moon though, because the moon’s orbit around the Earth is inclined by five degrees to the Earth’s orbit around the sun. Most months the full moon misses the 6,000-mile wide shadow, known as the umbra, but not this coming Friday morning.

The great lunar cover-up gets started at 12:09 a.m. when the moon makes its first contact with the umbra shadow in the high southeast sky. You’ll start to notice the lower left side of the moon begin to darken. The partial eclipse is on as the moon sinks deeper into the umbra. By 1:26 a.m., the moon’s disk will be completely swallowed in the umbra shadow and stays in there until 2:31 a.m. After that, the moon commences its slow exit from the umbra and is completely free from the shadow by 3:47 a.m. and the eclipse officially ends. You’ll have a chance to take that power nap before you have to go to school or work. Better yet, plan to take Friday off and make a long weekend of it!

The moon doesn’t totally black out during lunar eclipses because the Earth’s umbra shadow is not totally dark. Strained sunlight finds its way to the moon through the shell of the atmosphere that covers our Earth. Most of the blue and yellow components of the sun’s light are scattered by Earth’s atmosphere, leaving only a reddish glow sent in the direction of the moon. This same effect causes reddish-orange sunrises and sunsets and has the same effect on moonrises and moonsets.

Since the moon isn’t going quite through the center of the earth’s umbra during this eclipse but is closer to the upper edge of the shadow, the totally eclipsed moon will have a definite color gradient. The moon will be much redder on its southern side because it’s closer to the center of the umbra. The northern reaches of the moon will be much lighter since it’s closer to the edge of the umbra.

You can try photographing the blood moon with your smartphone, but honestly, it won’t be much of a view, even if you zoom in on it. But what you can do is use a telescope. Hold the lens of the smartphone up to the eyepiece of a telescope. That can be tricky, though, to get your phone in just the right spot behind the eyepiece. You want to make sure you’re using a wide-aperture, low-magnification eyepiece. A DSLR camera with a telephoto lens is your best bet. Good luck!

Mike Lynch is an amateur astronomer and retired broadcast meteorologist for WCCO Radio in Minneapolis/St. Paul. He is the author of “Stars: a Month by Month Tour of the Constellations,” published by Adventure Publications and available at bookstores and adventurepublications.net. Mike is available for private star parties. You can contact him at mikewlynch@comcast.net.

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At 100 years old, Bill Kruschel remembers the day he fell in love with music at the age of 8 after finding a gem in an old farm attic. Kruschel, a World War II veteran and active member of Stillwater’s Croix Chordsmen, celebrated his birthday Tuesday with laughter, memories and song.

“I’m just so thankful that I’ve got it all together yet and can do all I do,” Kruschel said.

Bill Kruschel of Stillwater’s Croix Chordsmen Chorus celebrates his 100th birthday on Tuesday, March 4, 2025. Kruschel’s chorus brothers threw him a surprise birthday party to honor his life, including a “Certified Oldie Award,” at Charlie’s Restaurant and Irish Pub in Stillwater. (Courtesy of Croix Chordsmen Chorus)

Kruschel’s birthday celebration began Monday evening, he said, when White Bear Lake Mayor Dan Louismet visited his home and established Tuesday, March 5, as White Bear Lake’s Bill Kruschel Day. The celebration continued Tuesday morning when Kruschel’s family made him a “breakfast like you wouldn’t believe,” and later that evening when the Croix Chordsmen threw him a surprise party after rehearsal at Charlie’s Restaurant and Irish Pub with balloons, cake and an award that read “Certified Oldie.”

“He can banter with the best of you,” friend Cliff Turnbull said. “You say, ‘Hi Bill, it’s good to see you,’ and he says, ‘Yeah it’s good to be seen.’”

Turnbull described Kruschel as funny, lively and talented. He said Kruschel even rides an electric three-wheel tricycle around his neighborhood in White Bear Lake, despite having impaired vision and being hard of hearing. How he does it, Turnbull said, he’ll never know.

Kruschel said he pulls out the trike as soon as it’s 50 degrees outside. Before the vision loss, Kruschel drove a car and a motorcycle, which he said he rode until he was 94.

“When you’ve got a tricycle and ride around the town that you’ve driven through all your life, at 10 miles an hour, you’ve got a full new world,” Kruschel said.

Aside from his humor, Turnbull said Kruschel is passionate about music and is “aggressive” when it comes to practicing for performances, something he admires.

Gem in the attic

Music has always been a large part of Kruschel’s life, he said, though he has never known how to read it. In 1933, Kruschel’s family moved to a farm after his father passed away. In the attic of the farm, Kruschel said he found an old accordion.

“And that was the beginning of it all,” Kruschel said.

He also remembers the first time he soloed, he said. It was a cold day in St. Paul in 1950 and the other choir members did not show up to church, but the organist and Kruschel didn’t let that stop them. Instead, they performed for the little audience they had.

“He can play anything by ear,” Kruschel’s son Bill F. Kruschel said. “He’s just got that talent: He can sit down at a piano and knock out a tune. He’s got his ukulele that he loves to take all over, and he can do the chords to sing to all the songs he loves and he’s got a beautiful voice.”

Last year, Kruschel sang Bing Crosby’s “Dear Hearts and Gentle People” at a conference in Minneapolis with Croix Chordsmen director Jay Althof’s quartet.

Kruschel received a standing ovation from the crowd, his son said. But his favorite memory of his dad’s performances was when he sang the national anthem at a Minnesota Twins game in 2016.

Turnbull said to live to 100 is remarkable, but to do it with the quality of a singing voice that Kruschel has is something else.

“Bill Kruschel has one of the best voices I’ve ever listened to,” Turnbull said.

Kruschel and Turnbull are both leads in the chorus and sing the melody. The chorus uses sheet music, but as Kruschel cannot read it, he often listens to the group’s learning tracks using his hearing aids. Though some days, the tracks are hard to listen to and Turnbull will often stand next to Kruschel and sing in his ear.

Bill Kruschel, right, of Stillwater’s Croix Chordsmen Chorus and Cliff Turnbull, left. (Courtesy of Croix Chordsmen Chorus)

“I have the privilege of standing next to a guy that I admire an awful lot,” Turnbull said.

Kruschel joined the Croix Chordsmen in 2022, ready to jump into the action of performing at local events, according to Turnbull.

The all-male a cappella chorus began in 1951 in River Falls, Wis., as a chapter of the “Barbershop Harmony Society.” Today, the over 35 active members rehearse Tuesdays at 7 p.m. at Our Savior’s Lutheran Church in Stillwater with members from all over the state.

Kruschel said he appreciates the group because they each value the tradition of the music and they’re just “a bunch of guys that really enjoy singing and competing with one another to sound better.”

“You don’t know how much it means to me to sing the national anthem for Memorial Day and with a group of people who are sincere about it,” Kruschel said.

3M mechanical engineer

One of Kruschel’s biggest life accomplishments includes working for 3M as a mechanical engineer for 37 years during what he called “a heyday of manufacturing.” He was able to travel the world and, in 1958, the company began making floppy disks, which he said was the beginning of a national effort to hire more minorities and women.

“It was one of the best things that ever happened,” Kruschel said.

Kruschel is also the father of three children, one of whom has intellectual disabilities. Bill F. Kruschel said his father was on the committee to form Northeast Metro District 916, an intermediate school district that provides resources to students with disabilities to ensure that his son and others would have the opportunity to learn. Bill F. said his father’s support inspired him to become a special-education teacher. Kruschel said this and supporting his neurodivergent son are among the highlights of his life.

“He is my hero,” Bill F. said while tearing up. “I’m so proud of him and we’re so blessed to have him in our lives.”

Leading a long, healthy life runs in the family, according to Kruschel. His mom lived to be 101; he has a 98-year-old sister and a 96-year-old brother.

During the war, Kruschel was a Navy medic attached to the Marines in the South Pacific, Bill F. said. He joined the division in Okinawa, Japan, then was in China for four months, Kruschel said. He wasn’t involved in direct combat, but he did help those who were.

“I was one of the lucky guys that got into the service in June of 1943 and I got back out in January of 46,” Kruschel said. “Went all the way across the Pacific Ocean to China and back and I’m here to talk about it.”

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From being a WWII Navy medic, working for 3M, parenting, singing and everything in between, Kruschel has lived a rich life, he said. Through it all, positivity and his faith in God are what have guided him, he said – a lesson he learned from his mother.

“Enjoy people and keep smiling,” Kruschel said. “Anybody can look growly. My big thing in life was to stay as far away from negative people as I ever could.”

The surprise 100th birthday celebration was a hit, Turnbull and Kruschel said. Though the roads were icy from the night’s snowstorm, it didn’t stop the party and “Happy Birthday” was sung to Kruschel, in a four-part barbershop harmony, of course.

“I can’t wait till tomorrow all my life,” Kruschel said.