It has to start somewhere, it has to start sometime
What better place than here, what better time than now?
— Rage Against the Machine, “Guerrilla Radio” (1999)
The Capital Region Mesh exists to connect people — not just devices. It’s a tool for community, for resilience, and for reclaiming our ability to speak freely and act locally. It’s a hopeful project — a reaffirmation of the belief that giving power back to the people isn’t just the goal. It’s the method.
No one knows exactly where we’re headed. But the time for “it can’t happen here” is over — it already has.
New Hampshire stands at a crossroads: a choice between love and fear. We can continue down the path of isolation, distrust, and digital dependency — letting our voices be shaped by algorithms and our relationships eroded by screens. Or we can look up, reach out, and build something real together.
That’s why we’re building the mesh. Not as a tech experiment, but as a living expression of trust, solidarity, and kinship. A digital manifestation of the ties that bind.
The Gathering Storm
Hard times are coming. That much is clear. The time to build the ark is before the storm.
New Hampshire’s politics and geography afford us the time, the tools, and the agency to be proactive. But the window is closing — and the winds are picking up.
As Benjamin Franklin warned his fellow delegates in that sweltering Philadelphia hall —
“We must all hang together, or assuredly we shall all hang separately.”
We must act now, not out of panic, but out of love for ourselves and hope for our future. Fear is easy. It is the mind killer. It asks nothing of us but surrender. Love is harder — it demands honesty, vulnerability, and the courage to persevere in the face of overwhelming odds.
A Legacy of Resistance
That kind of courage isn’t new here.
New Hampshire has never been passive. From the Pine Tree Riot to General Stark’s enduring motto Live Free or Die, our state has a legacy of standing up to tyrants.
This has always been a place where people look out for one another — where independence doesn’t mean isolation, and local action renders distant authority irrelevant. We don’t wait for orders. We don’t wait for rescue. We prepare, we organize, and we stand firm — not just for ourselves, but for one another.
We carry the legacy of the town meeting, the midnight riders, and the rebels who refused to be ruled from afar. Our strength has never come from centralized power — it comes from the bonds we forge in barns, basements, and backyards. From the quiet resolve of people who know that liberty is not given, but practiced.
Nobody Is Coming to Save Us — And That’s Okay
It’s tempting to wait for someone else to fix things. But no one is coming. That’s the burden of freedom — and the price of self-determination.
The situation can feel overwhelming, especially from the isolation of our homes — doomscrolling social media, poisoning ourselves with despair, soothing ourselves with irony like children whistling to keep the monsters at bay.
Each of us has a choice to make. We can give in to fear, or we can embrace love and begin building a better future — for ourselves and for our posterity.
When we act together, we see the truth: the world we inhabit is the sum of the choices we make. Name your fears. Face them.
Choose Love
Some respond to fear with anger, turning against those around them. Others respond with compassion — choosing to help, to forgive, to build.
Peacemakers have always been the ones who hold communities together — not with force, but with care. In times like these, they’re the ones who make survival possible.
This is the moment to choose love. To be of service. To band together for our common welfare.
The Work Begins Locally
National politics matter, but we only vote every two years. The real work — the daily work — happens here, in our towns and neighborhoods.
Building community. Sharing knowledge. Creating institutions that serve local needs. That’s where change begins — not in distant capitals, but across kitchen tables, town halls, and backyard barbecues.
Technology alone doesn’t build anything. That takes people. That takes participation.
The mesh is one tool. But the real power lies in the people who choose to use it — because what is the signal compared to the will that shapes it?
The Only Way Out Is Through
With free speech under attack and our energy grid increasingly fragile, we need alternative ways to organize and communicate. The mesh is one of those ways — decentralized, resilient, and ours to build and control.
Every institution meant to protect us is faltering. The guardrails are gone. But we remain — not as spectators, but as the ones who will shape what comes next.
The mesh is growing. The work is underway. There’s a place for you in it — come build with us.
This is only the beginning.