Tennessee Gov. Bill Lee, who has criticized the federal government for "excessive overreach," said Wednesday that the U.S. education department should be eliminated during Donald Trump's second term as president. (TN.gov)
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Gov. Bill Lee said Wednesday that he’d welcome closing the U.S. Department of Education under President-elect Donald Trump’s administration, adding that states can do a better job of deciding how to spend federal dollars on students.
“I believe that Tennessee would be more capable than the federal government of designing a strategy for spending federal dollars in Tennessee,” Lee told reporters when asked about the prospect.
“We know Tennessee. We know our children. We know the needs here much better than a bureaucracy in Washington, D.C. does,” Lee said.
The Republican governor’s comments come as Trump assembles his cabinet after defeating Vice President Kamala Harris last week to win a second term in office. As of Wednesday, he had not named his choice to be U.S. Secretary of Education.
During his campaign, Trump said one of his first acts as president would be to “close the Department of Education, move education back to the states.” The Republican Party’s platform also calls for shuttering the federal agency, as does the conservative Heritage Foundation’s Project 2025.
Tennessee’s governor called it “a great idea” to dismantle the agency, which was created under a 1979 federal law during President Jimmy Carter’s administration.
“I think the federal bureaucracy that was built into the Department of Education starting in 1979 has created just that: a bureaucracy,” Lee said.
Tennessee has a template for spending federal funds
Trump has not provided a detailed plan for what would happen to federal funding or particular programs if the U.S. Department of Education were shuttered — a move that would require an act of Congress.
Lee suggested that education funding could be distributed to states similar to how Tennessee negotiated a Medicaid block grant waiver program with the first Trump administration, giving the state government more control over how it spent the money.
“We saved Tennesseans a billion dollars in taxpayer money over four years,” Lee said, “and we split the savings with the federal government.”
Federal funds typically make up about a tenth of a state’s K-12 budget. For Tennessee, that amounts to about $1.8 billion distributed to local districts for its public schools, most of which supports students with disabilities, from low-income families, or still learning English.
Lee said Tennessee would continue to spend that money to support its neediest students.
“I think that Tennessee is incredibly capable of determining how dollars should be spent to take care of kids with disabilities, to take care of kids that live in sparse populations, or with English as a second language,” he said.
Asked about the federal agency’s enforcement of civil rights protections — which some have suggested could pivot to the U.S. Department of Justice — Lee said the state would have a role in that work, too.
“The complaint process could and would still exist,” Lee said. “We would make sure that it happens in this state.”
Critics question the state’s commitment to special student groups
Tennessee doesn’t have a very good track record of educating and caring for its students who need significant additional support.
It was one of many states, for instance, that once had laws excluding children with disabilities from public schools. The premise was that those kids would not benefit from a public school education. Before the passage of a 1975 federal law establishing the right to a public education for kids with disabilities, only 1 in 5 of those children were educated in public schools.
Recently, the Tennessee Disability Coalition gave the state a “D” grade on its annual performance scorecard that includes education services.
Students with disabilities comprise a significant part of Tennessee’s public education system.
About a tenth of the state’s public school students use an individualized education plan, or IEP, that’s intended to ensure that the student receives specialized instruction and related services for their disability.
Federal laws protecting students with disabilities would remain on the books even if the education department went away, but it’s not clear how enforcement would work or what would happen to funding. The authors of Project 2025 suggested that funding be turned into something resembling a voucher and given to families.
Federal education funding has been hotly debated in Tennessee
Tennessee has gone further than any other state in recent history in rethinking its relationship with the federal government.
Citing testing mandates, Sexton had complained of federal strings attached to those dollars. And the governor voiced support for the panel’s work and complained of “excessive overreach” by the federal government.
But some critics said the bigger issue was the U.S. education department’s role in enforcing constitutionally guaranteed civil rights protections for students.
Ultimately, the panel’s Senate and House members disagreed about their findings and issued separate recommendations. The Senate report highlighted the risks of taking the unprecedented step of rejecting federal funding, while the House report recommended taking incremental actions to further explore the idea. Nothing specific happened in the ensuing months.
Sen. Raumesh Akbari, a Memphis Democrat who served on the panel, said the Senate’s conclusions should give the governor pause.
“There are reasons why we have the U.S. Department of Education — to make sure that all kids have the opportunity to receive a public education and to have their civil rights protected,” Akbari said.
She noted that segregated schools existed less than 75 years ago across the nation.
“It’s unthinkable that we would move away from these very sacred and important protections, not just regarding race but gender, children with special needs, the handicapped community,” Akbari said.
Alexza Barajas Clark, who heads the EdTrust advocacy group in Tennessee, said the federal role in education is “to level the playing field for all students,” especially those from rural communities and low-income families or who have a disability.
“Let’s not lose focus about what is at stake,” Clark said. “At the center of every education policy decision is a student.”
Marta Aldrich is a senior correspondent and covers the statehouse for Chalkbeat Tennessee. Contact her at maldrich@chalkbeat.org.
Chalkbeat is a nonprofit news site covering educational change in public schools.
The way we look to a distant constellation That’s dying in a corner of the sky These are the days of miracle and wonder And don’t cry, baby, don’t cry Don’t cry. — “The Boy in the Bubble,” Paul Simon
I heard that Paul Simon song on Sirius radio last Thursday. I think it was on the Classic Vinyl station. I turned it up loud and thoughts arose, mostly about the time I first heard the Graceland album on which the tune made its debut.
It was the 1980s and we were living in Pittsburgh. My family and I were at a state park in Ohio, where we’d met up with three other families — friends with similarly aged young children. We’d rented cabins for the weekend and planned to fish and hike and cook out and probably have a little too much wine after the kids went to bed.
I’d just bought the Graceland cassette and we adults wore it out on a big jam box over the weekend. It took a minute for us to get used to the album’s quirky African rhythms and instrumentation — it was the big-hair Eighties, after all — but when it sunk in, it stuck, hard. It’s funny how music attaches itself like a sticky note to moments in your life.
Last Thursday, I happened to be listening to music because the thought of turning the Sirius dial to CNN or MSNBC or NPR or, heaven forbid, “Progressive Talk” radio was just unthinkable.
I used to listen to music all the time in the car, but as “The Boy in the Bubble” reached its familiar refrain in the Fresh Market parking lot, I realized I hadn’t really done so in months. I’d become obsessed with politics and the presidential race and I’d been spending all my time while in the car listening to news and political analysis. Horse race radio, basically.
A month ago, for example, I drove to upstate New York — 17 hours over two days — and listened to nothing but news and commentary, mostly about the presidential race. Even the podcasts I listened to were about politics. I was hooked by my confirmation biases and, if I’m honest, by the progressive outrage I was stewing in for hours at a time.
I was a boy in a bubble, and I wasn’t alone. There were millions of us, most of whom had convinced themselves that the Democrats would win, buoyed by outraged, pro-choice women, a fresh wave of committed young people, and a massive get-out-the-vote ground game. Oops.
There was another bubble, of course, one that pushed storylines supporting the GOP candidates and stirred up several ignorant and hateful narratives. There were millions of people in that bubble. I knew it existed, but I never dipped my toe into it for very long. Honestly, what kind of idiots would believe people were eating cats and dogs? Millions of them, apparently.
Some votes are still being counted as I write this, but it appears the Republican candidate won the presidency with around 25 percent of the nation’s eligible voters, about the same number he had in 2020, when he lost. The Democratic candidate garnered around 24 percent this time around.
But here’s the sad truth: The largest party in the country isn’t the Democrats or the Republicans. It’s the Apathy Party, which makes up around 47 percent of America’s eligible voters — those who couldn’t work up the time or energy to cast a ballot. They hold the power, but apparently have no interest in using it.
Around 8,000,000 fewer Americans voted in 2024 than in 2020. That’s a dangerous trend for a democracy, and something we need to figure out how to fix. In the end, it certainly wasn’t a landslide, as some have claimed. It was more like a slow mudslide. We need to dig out of the mud and leave our bubbles, but keep the faith. Speak the truth. These are the days of miracle and wonder. Don’t cry, baby. Don’t cry.
This week on the Memphis Flyer Podcast, political columnist Jackson Baker and Chris McCoy talk about the election and try to come to grips with what just happened. Check it out on YouTube.
Official portrait of President Donald J. Trump, Friday, October 6, 2017. (Official White House photo by Shealah Craighead)
Local and state leaders have mixed emotions about former president Donald Trump’s reelection.
Early Wednesday morning, it was announced that the Republican nominee had procured more than the 270 electoral votes needed to win against Democratic candidate Vice President Kamala Harris.
Tennessee Governor Bill Lee announced on election day that he would be casting a vote for Trump and his running mate J.D. Vance in hopes of restoring “conservative leadership” in the White House.
Once it was announced that Trump was the winner, Lee congratulated him on what he called a “decisive victory.”
“There is no doubt our country will again be stronger with President Trump in office, and as a result, our children and grandchildren will enjoy greater opportunity, security and freedom,” Lee said. “President Trump will unify our country by strengthening the economy, securing our Nation’s border and restoring safety in our communities.”
It was also announced that Marsha Blackburn would be reelected to the Senate, prevailing against Rep. Gloria Johnson. As she celebrated her victory, saying she was excited to “serve in a Republican majority” and “defend conservative values,” she welcomed Trump back to the White House and said the “golden age of America is ahead.”
“Last night, the American people made their choice clear – now it’s time to rebuild our nation with President Donald J. Trump’s leadership,” Blackburn said.
David Kustoff, who had been reelected to represent Tennessee’s 8th congressional district for a fifth term, also celebrated Trump’s win.
“Congratulations to @RealDonaldTrump on being elected the 47th President of the United States! I am looking forward to working together to Make America Great Again!” Kustoff said via X.
While Trump’s reelection signifies a further lean-in toward conservative values — which some see as a win — others see this announcement as a disappointment, fearful of what his administration may mean.
Molly Quinn, chief executive director of OUTMemphis, called the outcome “dreadful” for the LGBTQ+ community. Quinn advised people to take care of themselves and promised unity for marginalized groups.
“Our solidarity is a foundation for our safety and our futures and that’s especially important for trans, Black and brown people, who are most at risk under a MAGA regime,” Quinn said. “[OutMemphis] will be fearless in our defense of one another, and we will hold safe and affirming spaces within our walls.”
Francie Hunt, executive director of Tennessee Advocates for Planned Parenthood (TAPP), called the result a setback and said it wasn’t what they hoped for. Abortion rights proved to be a major issue on the ballot this year. While abortions were outlawed in the state in the aftermath of Roe v. Wade, TAPP along with Planned Parenthood have continued to push for reproductive freedom.
“Let us grieve and then, we begin the fight again. Let this be a chance to rebuild and strengthen our movement. We may have lost this round, but we have not lost our resolve,” Hunt said.
Lisa Sherman Luna, executive director at the Tennessee Immigrant and Refugee Rights Coalition, issued a statement recognizing the next four years as a challenge, but promising to fight back.
“Many immigrant Tennesseans left everything they know to make a better life for their families in our state and are more resilient than Donald Trump could ever imagine,” Luna said. “We’ve been building power and preparing for this moment for more than 20 years, and our members are ready to organize their families, defend their rights, and challenge these dangerous policies at every step. We’re ready to dig deep, fight back, and use every tool in our toolbox to make sure that Tennessee’s immigrant and refugee community has the freedom to thrive and live with dignity.”
The 2024 election season had its share of both suspense and drama.
That was certainly true of the quadrennial national election for president (arguably the most momentous one since the Civil War), which went down to the wire and frazzled millions of nerve endings before a winner could be discerned.
As all prognostications had it in advance, the presidential picture seemed headed for a resolution later than election night itself. Such opaqueness as lingered in the vote totals abruptly dissolved by the morning’s light, however. Shockingly, Donald J . Trump was back. With a vengeance.
At the center of the suspense had been the three so-called “blue wall” states of Pennsylvania, Michigan, and Wisconsin. It was presumed that a victory for Democrat Kamala Harris in all three of these habitually Democratic states would give her the presidency, but just barely. A victory for former GOP president Trump in any of them could drastically derail that prognosis. In the event, he appears to have won them all, as he did in 2016.
Kamala Harris (Official White House Photo by Lawrence Jackson)Donald J. Trump (Official White House Photo by Shealah Craighead)
Nor was drama absent from the local side of the ballot. There is little prospect of the local results being challenged, as is always possible with the presidential numbers, but their effect may linger and, in some cases, simmer.
This is especially true of the series of referenda that Memphis voters were asked to pass judgment on. As of late Tuesday evening, election commission totals had all the referenda winning handily.
The most significant ones — the outcome of which was never much doubted — had set city against state and enraged the guardians of statehouse authority well in advance of the individual items receiving a single vote.
In brief, the offending referenda items of Ordinance 5908, asked city residents to approve (1) restoration of permits for the right to carry firearms, (2) a ban on the sale of assault weapons in the city, and (3) a “red flag” proviso empowering the local judiciary to confiscate the weapons of demonstrably risky individuals.
All of the items are “trigger laws,” to be activated only when and if state law should permit them.
Even so, the Republican Speaker of the state House of Representatives, Cameron Sexton, had made bold to threaten the city of Memphis with loss of state-shared revenues unless the offending referendum package — unanimously approved by the city council — was withdrawn from the ballot.
That was enough to make the Shelby County Election Commission blanch, but the council itself was not cowed and, led by Chairman JB Smiley Jr., sued to have the measures restored. Chancellor Melanie Taylor Jefferson obliged.
As did Memphis voters, in their turn. All three questions of Referendum 5908 passed by gigantic majorities of 100,00 votes or more.
Other referenda passed on Tuesday would: strike down the city’s existing ban of runoffs in at-large elections (Referendum 5884), impose a two-year residency requirement for Memphis mayoral candidates (Referendum 5913), and authorize the city council to determine the salaries of the mayor, council members, the city chief administrative officer, and division directors (Referendum 5893).
All in all, it was a good night for the referenda, as well as for the council itself. And, arguably, for the citizens of Memphis.
Perhaps predictably, the form sheet also held for elective offices, with incumbents of both parties doing very well indeed.
Marsha Blackburn (Photo: United States Senate, Public domain | Wikimedia Commons)
Republican U.S. Senator Marsha Blackburn held off a challenge statewide from Knoxville state Representative Gloria Johnson, her Democratic opponent, though in heavily Democratic Shelby County, Johnson was leading, 156,303 to 104,633.
Another Republican incumbent, 8th District Congressman David Kustoff led Democratic challenger Sarah Freeman by a 2 to 1 margin in Shelby County’s portion of the vote, 66,398 votes to 30,255.
Steve Cohen (Photo: U.S. House of Representatives, Public domain | Wikimedia Commons)
Meanwhile, 9th District Democratic Congressman Steve Cohen was overwhelming his perennial Republican opponent Charlotte Bergman even more dramatically with vote totals in the county of 162,299 to 47,634.
On the legislative scene, the much-ballyhooed District 97 state House race saw Republican incumbent John Gillespie edging out his Democratic challenger Jesse Huseth, 15,859 to 14,600.
John Gillespie (Photo: Courtesy tn.gov)
And, in another state House race where Democrats nursed upset hopes, in District 83, incumbent Republican Mark White held off Democrat Noah Nordstrom, 19,283 to 13,713.
Mark White (Photo: Courtesy tn.gov)
Most attention — locally, nationally, and even worldwide — remained on the showdown between Trump and Harris.
As late as the last weekend before this week’s final vote, the presidential race was being referred to as a dead heat, a virtual tie, a sense of things apparently corroborated by a string of polls in the so-called “battleground” states — the Rust Belt trio of Pennsylvania, Michigan, and Wisconsin; the Sun Belt states of Nevada and Arizona; and the competitive Southern states of Georgia and North Carolina.
A freakish outlier poll in the presumably red state of Iowa showing Harris with a last-minute edge over Trump in Iowa, though, was an indicator of possible unexpected volatility.
That the presidential race had even gotten so measurably close was a reflection of a political standoff in which halves of the nation had seemingly cleaved against each other in a variety of different and sometimes paradoxical ways.
This was not the same old story of Democrats versus Republicans. Both of those coalitions had undergone profound changes over the years. No longer was the “working class” (ditto, the “middle class”) to be grouped in a single body. Upward mobility had revised people’s notions of class, then stalled in such a way as to confuse them further. Generational change was rampant, and ethnicity was no longer a dependable metric for determining political attitude. Disagreement over social matters like gender identity and abortion policy had sundered the old divides.
The center could not hold. It was not only, a la Yeats, that the falcon could not hear the falconer. Social media and impatient ways had created multitudinous new sources professing to be the latter.
The nation’s two-party political system had atrophied to the point that, seemingly, neither was able to generate a dependable bench of A-list players. Donald J. Trump, the Republicans’ once and would-be future president, had come from the worlds of seat-of-the-pants commerce and TV showbiz to reign over a hodgepodge of time-servers, has-beens, and sycophants in his party, and Democratic incumbent president Joe Biden, a survivor of his party’s dwindling corps of traditionalists, headed up the Democrats.
That’s how things were at the end of the early-year primaries, and there were no few voices wondering aloud: Was that all there was, this uninspiring rematch of moldy oldies?
To give Biden his due, he had done his best to wreak from overriding political inertia some promising legislation, especially in the rebuilding of the country’s decaying infrastructure. To give Trump his due, he had recovered from a stupefying series of misdeeds, including, arguably, an aborted coup against the political system, to regain his political stature.
When the two met on a late-June debate stage on the eve of the two party conventions, the 81-year-old Biden, who had fared well in the earlier presentation of his State of the Union address, crumbled so visibly and profoundly that to many, probably most, observers, the presidential race seemed over then and there, especially when the 78-year-old Trump would go on to defiantly survive a serious assassination attempt two days before the opening of the GOP political convention in July.
But desperation in the Democrats’ ranks had meanwhile generated a determination to replace the compromised Biden at the head of the party ticket. Enough pressure developed that the incumbent finally, if reluctantly, had to yield, and realistically, given the lateness of the hour, the most feasible outcome proved to be that of elevating Vice President Kamala Harris, the erstwhile California senator and former prosecutor, in Biden’s stead at the Democratic convention in August.
Once the matchup between Trump and Harris got established, it quickly settled into an even-steven situation, a kind of free-floating draw in which the two sides always stayed within reach of each other.
From the Democratic point of view, this would seem something of a miracle. Nikki Haley had based her runner-up GOP presidential race on the conceit that a female could win the presidency, either herself or, with the aging Biden still a candidate, his vice president, Harris, still regarded at that point as a nonentity. It was Haley’s way of mocking the opposition.
Indeed, even in Democratic ranks, Harris was long seen to be something of a liability, a drag on the ticket. That this was due to the way she had been used — or misused — by the incumbent president (in the ill-defined role of “border czar,” for example) became evident only when she was freed to become her own person.
On the stump in her own right, she proved to be a natural, with unsuspected reserves of charisma and an appeal that was fortified by her selection of the pleasantly homey governor of Minnesota, Tim Walz, as her running mate. (Trump’s choice as potential veep, the edgy Ohio Senator JD Vance, was clearly head-smart and acceptable to Trump’s base among the MAGA faithful but kept bumping up against his own innate arrogance.)
The change in tone among the Democrats was almost instantly evident. It came to be symbolized in the concept of “joy” and in Harris’ slogan, “a new way forward.”
While coming across as a certifiable New Thing, she was also able, credibly, to posit herself as the defender of constitutional values against the alleged schemes by the usurper Trump to override them in the interests of personal power.
“We are the promise of America,” she would say, uniting her own purpose with those of her audience members.
Against this, against Harris, the ebullient rock-star presence on stage, Trump seemed buffaloed. In his fateful June debate duel with Biden, he had seemed vital, a hurricane of restless energy hurling scorn and unchecked charges at his befuddled opponent. Now it became more and more obvious that he, too, was a near octogenarian, with no new promise of his own to offer.
The shift in positions was fully demonstrated, post-conventions, in the follow-up debate with Harris when, matador-like, she had baited the bullish Trump with mockery of his rallies (which, in fact, were becoming more and more disorganized and less and less focused and empty of real content). His red-eyed response, that Haitian immigrants were eating the dogs and cats of Middle Americans in Ohio, was perfectly framed for the television audience by the split image of Harris’ gleeful wonderment at this out-of-nowhere non sequitur.
It was not long afterward that Harris’ progress was slowed somewhat, as much by a petulant media’s insistence that she submit to interviews as a sign of her seriousness as anything else. Dutifully, she did, and emerged with appropriate talking points — a middle-class tax cut, subsidies for small business and new housing starts, and legislation to suppress price-gouging. These would become highlights of the “to-do” list which she would juxtapose against what she characterized as the brooding Trump’s ever-multiplying enemies list.
It became a cliche of press coverage that the former president’s seething ire at an imagined “enemy from within” was displacing what his would-be handlers wanted him to discuss — a supposedly intractable inflation and the pell-mell overcoming of the nation’s borders by a horde of illegal invaders. Both menaces, as it happened, were in something of an abatement — the former by a plethora of relatively rosy economic indices, the latter by fairly resolute, if delayed, executive actions taken by the lame-duck president in the summer and fall.
What Trump’s audiences were getting on the stump instead was the overflow of his ever more naked id, a witches’ brew of resentment and machismo — insults against his adversaries, threats to use the machinery of government against them, and improvisations on themes ranging from Arnold Palmer’s junk size to nostalgia for “the late, great Hannibal Lecter.”
Partly, this was due to what Harris characterized as her opponent’s presumed “exhaustion,” but partly, too, it was Trump’s instinctive reliance on what had always been the source of his appeal, an exposure of pure personality, a willingness, for better or for worse, to let it all hang out, to be The Show, a cathartic vehicle for release of his followers’ emotions.
It was this penchant, after all, that had allowed him to sweep past a stage full of practical Republican politicians during the primary season of 2016 and, later that year, to surprise the calculating and overconfident Hillary Clinton at the polls.
GOP eminences — even those who, like Senate Republican Leader Mitch McConnell, despised Trump, or, who, like senators Marco Rubio and Ted Cruz, had been vilified by him, learned that they were no match for his carnival-like presence and resolved to use him for their own purposes, only in the end to be used by him instead for his.
It remained a fact that, for all his defects, real and imagined, Trump was able to sustain a plausible hope of regaining the office he had lost to Biden in the pandemic-inflected campaign year of 2020.
And, beyond the presidential race itself, Republicans still nursed hopes of holding onto their slim majority in the House of Representatives as well as of capturing the Senate outright. At stake were such matters as healthcare, climate change, and reproductive policy domestically, as well as of meeting the economic challenge of China and in the conduct of foreign policy in the Middle East and vis-a-vis Russia in its challenge to NATO in Europe.
You probably saw that weird Trump rally last week. I mean, they’re all weird, but I’m talking about the one where a couple of people in the crowd fainted and the candidate decided that rather than answering any more questions, he would spin some sweet tunes from his personally curated rally playlist.
For the next 39 minutes, Trump stood and swayed on stage, occasionally waving or pointing, but mostly just swaying, apparently blissed out by hearing Elvis’ “An American Trilogy” and other tunes from his playlist for the 10,000th time. It was bizarre.
As I watched clips of the rally, I was struck by the dilemma of those stuck onstage with the former president. They couldn’t leave, so they had to pretend like what was happening was not weird. They shuffled awkwardly, whispered to each other, waved desultorily, shuffled some more. Event MC Kristi Noem bounced around in cheerleader mode for a while, pointing, clapping, making the “YMCA” song gestures, trying to pretend it was normal. It must have been exhausting for all of them.
I read an opinion piece that compared the scene to Hans Christian Andersen’s folktale, The Emperor’s New Clothes, in which no one in the emperor’s entourage has the courage to tell their boss that he’s walking around naked in public. That certainly works as an analogy, but for me the rally evoked Weekend at Bernie’s vibes.
If you have somehow managed to avoid encountering that movie classic from 1989, let me summarize: Two young insurance company executives discover their mob-connected boss Bernie is dead after arriving early at his house in the Hamptons for a big weekend party. Convinced that the police would think they murdered him, the employees spend the weekend trying to sustain the illusion for party-goers that Bernie isn’t dead, just really drunk and stoned. And yeah, it’s as stupid as it sounds. But I think that’s what Trump’s campaign handlers are trying to do during the campaign’s final weeks: sustain the illusion that their man is okay by keeping him upright and limiting his appearances to pep rallies and friendly media. They know Trump is losing sentience with each passing day, but they’ll worry about that after he wins. And that’s a terrifying thought.
The one helpful thing that Trump accomplished during his first term was to demonstrate the flaws in our system, the first of which is that a president can just ignore the law, especially if he or she is enabled by a compliant majority in either house of Congress or a politicized Department of Justice. So, we owe him thanks for that, I guess.
And because of Trump, we learned the hard way that our democracy is only as good and decent as the president we elect to run it. A president who decides to disregard the established traditions, and even the law (Emoluments Clause, anyone?), can get away with it. The U.S. attorney general, for example, was intended by the Constitution to be the peoples’ steward of justice, a person who would tell the president the truth and stand up for the rule of law. After a couple of false starts, Trump found Bill Barr, an AG who would do his bidding like a Mafia capo. “You want an investigation quashed? No problem, Boss. This guy Epstein bothering you?”
And it didn’t stop with the Justice Department. The Education Department was run by a woman who made millions in privatized education. The Centers for Disease Control and Prevention was turned into a propaganda agency, forced to bury or alter scientific data to suit the president’s Covid-19 agenda. The Treasury, Energy, and Interior departments were run by lobbyists in the pocket of those they were supposed to be regulating. Even the military was politicized, with top generals replaced if they questioned or refused to bend to Trump’s unconstitutional whims: “We can’t bomb Mexico, sir. And no, we’re not going to ‘nuke a hurricane.’”
I could go on. Looking back at Trump’s first term is real nightmare fuel, but imagining the decisions this barely cognizant man could make in a second term with handlers such as Stephen Miller, Steve Bannon, Roger Stone, and the Trump children calling the shots? That would not be a playlist any decent American would want to listen to.
Vice President Kamala Harris’ dramatic entry into the presidential race in July — including selecting Minnesota Governor Tim Walz as her running mate — put a new twist on the already gendered nature of the election. A woman was now at the top of the ticket.
Instead of Donald Trump’s and JD Vance’s misogynist manhood solely driving the media narrative, there was now a new storyline: Not only was a Black, South Asian woman the nominee; there also was a counternarrative — the egalitarian expression of manhood embodied by Walz and Doug Emhoff.
From the GOP convention theme song, “It’s a Man’s World,” to Hulk Hogan’s ridiculous tribute to old-school manhood, the Trump campaign gambled that their brand of “tough” masculinity would be a winning strategy against President Biden’s perceived “weak” portrayal of manhood. But Trump was caught up short when — just three days after his convention ended — he was facing a woman.
Into this fraught political moment comes a thought-provoking film exploring presidential masculinity. The Man Card: 50 Years of Gender, Power & the American Presidency is rich with content and context for voters to make sense of the gender politics playing out in the election. Created by educator-author Jackson Katz, The Man Card was originally released in 2020. The updated and expanded 2024 version crackles with urgency now that Kamala Harris is Trump’s opponent.
The Man Card demonstrates how presidents and the presidency have historically been linked in the American imagination with traditional ideas about men. The film exposes how the right uses one-dimensional ideas about manhood to portray Democrats as too weak to attract working-class white men. In less politically volatile times, a full-on review of the film would make sense. But writing about The Man Card weeks before the election invites viewers to assess the film through an activist, not an educational, lens. Viewers might ask themselves: What can I do to get the film into a local union hall, before groups of younger, working-class men, broadcast on community access television, streamed in battleground states?
The Young Men Research Initiative, which Katz cofounded earlier this year, is urging the media to cover the male side of the gender gap and the Democrats to reach out to young men, especially those who typically get their news from the online, misogynist manosphere rather than traditional media.
The film uses vivid archival and contemporary footage to illustrate the ways presidential masculinity is portrayed, ranging from a cowboy hat-wearing Ronald Reagan cutting brush on his Santa Barbara ranch to George W. Bush decked out in a fighter pilot’s uniform landing on the USS Abraham Lincoln to (wrongly) declare, “Mission accomplished,” in Iraq.
For the second time in eight years, a man whose political identity is rooted in both misogyny and reductive ideas about manhood is running against a woman. Instead of a white woman, now his opponent is Black and South Asian. Plus, she’s a prosecutor; he’s a felon. The Man Card asks white male voters, especially in battleground states, how they will judge the Harris-Walz ticket. Will they throw their support behind the MAGA movement that promises to restore men’s former glory? Or will they reject long-established voting patterns and help usher in a new era, redefining the highest office in the country, and with it our national identity?
Voters have a stark choice. Trump and Vance promote a rigid masculinity infused with both misogyny and Christian nationalism. They have used bigotry and fear of the other — including bald-faced lies about Haitian immigrants — to gin up their base. Meanwhile, Harris and Walz represent an evolving expression of leadership — championing women as leaders at the highest level — more suited to the 21st century.
Until now, the loudest voices in the struggle over which version of gender and power will prevail have been those promoting traditional masculinity as the key to solving society’s problems. Among them are some on the far right who, alarmingly, believe violence is both acceptable and necessary. Meanwhile, other voices are beginning to be recognized: those of antisexist men who have worked to transform conventional masculinity over the same half-century covered in The Man Card. They’ve been redefining manhood, fatherhood, and brotherhood. Now, it’s time to add white male presidents.
To better understand the deeply gendered social, cultural, and political forces that Kamala Harris is up against, here’s an idea: Set aside an hour and a quarter and watch The Man Card. Then, take to heart Michelle Obama’s challenge and “do something.” Maybe, begin by sharing what you learned with men you know — especially young men.
Rob Okun, syndicated by PeaceVoice, is editor emeritus of Voice Male magazine, chronicling the antisexist men’s movement for more than 30 years and is editor of the anthology, Voice Male: The Untold Story of the Profeminist Men’s Movement.
Mom is 100 and fabulous. (Photo: Alan VanWyngarden)
I awoke to a loud “Silver Alert” on my phone the other day. I’m not sure why it made a sound, unless I accidentally set up an audible alarm for such things, which is entirely possible. My iPhone is full of tricks and surprises. For example, I haven’t been able to type the letter “p” in texts for six months, which is a -ain in the butt.
At any rate, I reached groggily for the phone and read that “a Silver Alert has been issued on behalf of the Cowan, Tennessee, Police Department for missing 79-year-old Oscar Howard.* He was last seen in the area of Chestnut Street in Cowan wearing a green T-shirt and blue jeans. Howard has a medical condition that may impair his ability to return safely without assistance.”
I thought about Oscar as I wandered into the kitchen, safely and without assistance, wearing a black T-shirt and pajama pants. I hoped he would be found quickly and vowed to keep an eye out for him.
I’d just gotten back the day before from a trip to Las Cruces, New Mexico, where 16 members of my family gathered to celebrate my mother’s 100th birthday, and her remarkable life. Let me tell you, the woman is still sharp, funny, and capable of surprises. She zips around the grounds of her assisted-living complex with a walker, but without further assistance, making sure to log at least a half-hour of fast-striding exercise a day. She still has a great sense of humor and seems to know everyone in the place.
We celebrated my mother’s big day in a private room at an excellent restaurant in Old Mesilla. After dinner, a cake with three large candles was set in front of her (because nobody wants to mess with 100 candles). As we finished singing “Happy Birthday,” there was the usual chorus of “… and many more,” to which she said with a big smile, “Well, one more … or maybe two.” She blew out the candles and said her wish was that we all lived a long and happy life. Then she got up and circled the table with her walker, speaking to everyone in turn, telling me I was “her favorite son,” then, with a grin, telling my brother seated next to me the same thing.
She was on form all evening long and it was a delight to see because like many elderly folks, her mind can sometimes misfire when she gets tired. She can “spiral,” as they say, and repeat herself in the course of a conversation. She does so cheerfully, and is clueless that she’s doing it, but she’s 100 years old, after all, and some age-related mental decline is natural.
But even so, it was surprising when she suddenly stood up and announced loudly to the room that, “In Springfield, they’re eating the dogs! The people that came in. They’re eating the cats! They’re eating the pets of the people that live there! And this is what’s happening in our country!” We gasped and turned to each other, unsure of what to make of such a statement. Then she shouted, “They want to have transgender operations on illegal aliens in prison!” Then she snarled, “In six states, they’re executing babies after they’re born!”
At that point, we realized Mom needed to be taken back to her apartment. It was past 9 p.m. and she was obviously spiraling, spouting nonsense. She needed rest. Everyone understood, so we bid our good nights and gently escorted her to our car. It was still a wonderful evening and a memory I’ll always treasure …
Oh, wait. Oh, jeez. No, no, no. I’m so sorry. I guess I was having a bit of a senior moment myself there. My mother didn’t actually say any of that stuff. I was somehow confusing her birthday party with the presidential debate I’d watched the night before. An easy enough mistake to make, I think you’d agree. Both involved an elderly person up past their bedtime. (And not just me.) And, frankly, I suspect it may be time for a Silver Alert for one of them. Like Oscar, he may not have the ability to return home safely without assistance.
Editor’s note: Our political columnist Jackson Baker and former Flyer writer Chris Davis traveled to Chicago, Illinois, last week for the Democratic National Convention from Monday, August 19th, to Thursday, August 22nd. For this story, Baker and Davis reflect on their experiences, giving light to the ever-changing political landscape.
CHICAGO — Let the record show that the second major-party convention of 2024 ended as the first one had — with a firm conviction on the part of its cadres that victory in the November general election was, if not inevitable, then likely. And if not that, at least possible.
That circumstance, ideal from the vantage point of a suspenseful showdown and a spirited turnout, depended largely on events that occurred between the two, the Republican gathering in Milwaukee in mid-July and the Democrats’ a month later.
Those events began with the withdrawal from the race of Democratic President Joe Biden, whose evident infirmities had been amply signaled in an early debate with former President Donald Trump, the Republican nominee.
Kamala Harris after acceptance address (Photo: David Upton)
They continued with the substitution of Democratic nominee of Vice President Kamala Harris, as close to her party’s line as Biden had been and vastly more dynamic and appealing in espousing it.
In between these events had come what appeared to be an emotional unraveling of contestant Trump, who was largely reduced to unloosing poorly formulated insults at his new opponent, including one which, manifestly absurdly, claimed he was the better-looking of the two.
Harris had, with impressive speed and efficiency, managed to still most doubts about herself as campaigner and party avatar within her party ranks, and she had bolstered her position with her choice of a running mate, the unassuming but engagingly folksy governor of Minnesota, Tim Walz, a former high-school football coach progressive enough to have been faculty advisor for a “gay-straight alliance” at his school.
The Democrats’ changing of the guard would be relatively seamless. On night one of the convention, Biden, transparently grieving, would take his demotion with gravel-voiced acceptance and would be rewarded with prearranged chants of “We love Joe” and ritual hugs from wife, family, and Kamala. All would liken him to George Washington, obscuring the look of archetypal sacrifice.
Thereafter the money rolled in, the polls responded, and it was all a rush to celebrate Kamala as the first Black woman, first Asian, first woman of color (pick one) to be nominated for president of the United States, the consecrators came forth — the old Lion Bill in his subdued approving wheeze, the Obamas, “Do something,” “Tell Trump this is one of those Black jobs,” and the formal roll call to nominate her became a collage of carnivals, all more Dionysian than Apollonian. Coach Walz came in with gridiron metaphors: “A field goal down in the fourth quarter,” “Let’s roll.”
Kamala had every reason to smile, and her ever-beaming face became mask, then masque. It was on. The entertainers arrived, Stevie Wonder sighting higher ground and Oprah Winfrey flinging her arms in wide embrace.
On the last night, it was all Kamala. And she delivered, lashing the fundamentally unserious Trump as the serious threat he was, tying him to the retrograde Project 2025 with its rolling back of American freedoms and vowing, “We’ll never go back!”
She would go on to touch all the bases: a woman’s right to bodily autonomy, tax cuts for the middle class, freedom to read, solidarity with our NATO allies, confronting Big Pharma, retarding pursuing inflation, and overhauling immigration policy, protecting the border while creating a path to citizenship.
There was one less developed point — just what to do about the Israel-Gaza war, other than to seek a ceasefire and the return of hostages taken by Hamas.
The much-ballyhooed protest of Gaza war policy — seriously overseen by squadrons of Chicago’s finest — turned out to be more pro forma than profound. Passing through the midst of the chanters of an evening, I heard one voice out on its periphery, more prevalent than the rest, and that turned out to belong to a solitary sentinel denouncing things of this world.
A Christian soldier, as it were, passing out literature extolling a world to come — one even more remote than one in which Palestinians might achieve what they and their supporters could regard as full justice.
If there was a serious issue that never made it to the rostrum of either convention in 2024, it was anything resembling a major re-evaluation of the nation’s Middle East policy.
Kamala, it seemed, was able to finesse the issue on a talking point pledging support for Israel’s right to defend itself coupled with hopes for eventual self-determination for Palestinians.
That this might be seen as progress was a statement in and of itself.
Among the Democrats taking part one day in a rooftop celebration for the Tennessee delegation atop one of Chicago’s several new Downtown skyscrapers were Joseph Walters and Brenda Speer of Speerit Hill Farm of Lynnville. A second-marriage couple, they were, in retirement age, looking to the Harris-Walz team and its attempted evocation of joy as a revival of their political hopes.
These had been lapsed now for a near-generation, since, Walters remembers, the time of Obama, when a presidential victory in the nation at large became, paradoxically, a signal for the white South, including Tennessee, to forswear its Democratic Party heritage.
These were the years when Memphis’ Jim Kyle, now a Shelby County chancellor and then the Democrats’ leader in the Tennessee state Senate and a potential heir to the mantle of lieutenant governor, began a campaign for governor in 2010, only to discover that “all the yellow-dog Democrats had become yellow-dog Republicans”
“I was so disappointed,” Speer, still a mainstay of party activity in rural Middle Tennessee, such as it is, says of that time, when her neighbors began deserting the Democratic legacy in droves.
It may be impossible now, and for some time yet, for Democrats to challenge the Republican supermajority in Tennessee for power in the state at large.
Yet the building blocks would seem to be emerging in the ranks of determined Democrats like Sarah Freeman of the Germantown Democratic Club, a candidate this year for the 8th District congressional seat now held by Republican David Kustoff. Freeman won out in what was an old-fashioned multi-candidate free-for-all in the Democratic primary, and she was accompanied at the convention by her own videographer documentarian.
There was Lee Harris, the Shelby County mayor who was on hand for ongoing policy talks with peers from local governments elsewhere, and there was first-term Memphis Mayor Paul Young, who declared to his fellow Tennesseans, “People in the hood … don’t care about our conventions. They just want things to change. And so as we leave here, I want us to take this energy and turn it into action.”
Justin J. Pearson with the Tennessee delegation (Photo: Jackson Baker)
And there was Justin J. Pearson, the oracle of change to come, the galvanizing figure of the campaign to save South Memphis from a potentially hazardous oil pipeline and later a key member of the Tennessee Three, who shamed the state’s GOP leadership for its inaction on gun safety. And still later Pearson, the District 86 state representative, would become an accomplished fundraiser and all-purpose benefactor of progressive causes he deemed meritorious or necessary. And their apostle, as in the following words delivered to the Tennessee delegation on the last morning of the convention:
“We’ve got to be fired up when we have somebody who’s been convicted of 34 felonies running against the most qualified person ever to run for president of these United States, Vice President Kamala D. Harris.
“We’ve got to be fired up for such a time and moment as this, where we are seeing the rights of women being taken. We’ve got to be fired up when the gun violence epidemic continues to plague our communities because the Tennessee Firearms Association and the National Rifle Association seem to have bought our politicians into a level of complacency and cowardice that is demeaning and degrading and hurting us.
“We’ve got to be fired up when our civil rights are being attacked on every side, and this Supreme Court acts much more like a MAGA-extremist Republican Party than it should.
“We have to be fired up in this moment to preserve and protect and defend the democratic constitutional experiment that our ancestors marched for, that our ancestors died for, that our ancestors built through many dangers, toils, and snares. We’ve got to be fired up in this moment. In Tennessee and in America, we’ve got to be fired up. …
“We are Democrats. We are Democrats.”
Pearson’s oratory was confined to the Tennessee delegation. The nation at large has not yet heard him. But they will. They will.
Meanwhile, there is the following: a priceless musing on the subject at hand from my colleague on this mission and a strong right arm indeed, Chris Davis. — Jackson Baker
……………
A new audacity: Hopeful Democrats leave Chicago full of fight, but questions linger
The rebellion started, like they do, with a normal request from the back of the bus: “Can we please just get off and walk to United Center?” The question, voiced by some unidentified patriot, who only wanted to get to the Democratic National Convention in time to hear President Joe Biden speak, set off a rumble of interest. Problem was, a small but determined group of demonstrators had broken away from the bulk of Monday’s pro-Palestinian protests in Union Park and breached the DNC’s security perimeter.
The occupation was brief and peaceful but it ended in arrests, confusion, and a lengthy lockdown of the perimeter that stranded a mile-long convoy of buses, carrying DNC guests from their Downtown hotels to the venue. The stuck Democrats were getting restless, but they weren’t getting mad; they were ready to do something.
Pro-Palestine protestors marched in Chicago. (Photo: Chris Davis)
A genial police officer, assigned to guard the shuttle carrying delegates and guests to the venue in Chicago’s Near West Side neighborhood, didn’t want anybody taking any unnecessary risks: Stick to the plan and the bus will get everybody there, eventually. Ex-military and petite, the officer was wrapped in Kevlar, strapped with tactical gear, and gifted with an evident flair for theatrical performance.
She told riders they needed to stay on the bus because modern protesters wear gloves treated with caustic chemicals so they can burn cops just by grabbing them. The officer said she thought other guests from other buses had already attempted to walk and they’d gotten into fights with protesters or something like that. She said it was better for everybody to stay on a bus that wasn’t going anywhere than risk running into any of that.
Before the smiling officer could finish her cautionary fairytales, somebody in the middle of the bus found footage of the breach on TikTok. “I think I’m gonna walk,” they said. “The protesters aren’t wrong,” someone else said to a buzz of general agreement, and people began to stand up and move toward the front of the bus. By this time doors to the other stalled buses were swinging open and Democrats poured out into the street: evidence of similar, simultaneous rebellions within the stalled convoy.
The protestors called for action not just for Palestine but for other nations, like the Philippines, whose leader is in effigy above with Harris and Biden. (Photo: Chris Davis)
“If you really want to get off the bus, I can’t stop you,” the officer said, as Democrats started getting off the bus en masse and trudging like a well-dressed zombie horde toward the fenced perimeter. Only those with mobility issues, and people who despise walking were left to ride. They would, as the police officer assured, arrive in time to see the president speak. Three-and-a-half hours later the last of the stuck passengers disembarked at the United Center.
This feels like a metaphor for something. Maybe a metaphor for everything. In any case, I got off the bus and walked to a happy hour event hosted by Grow Progress, an organization who “use[s] science and empathy” to build more persuasive political messages. They persuaded me to enjoy several drinks, and I arrived in the arena somewhat later than the stranded bus riders, but in a much better mood.
Hillary Clinton was speaking. I could see her on the hallway monitors, as I made my way to a media-friendly space, and I could hear the crowd chanting, “Lock him up.”
It was a beautiful first day for the DNC. The sun was high and bright but a steady wind turned larger, handmade signs into sails, billowing and blowing around some of the protesters gathering in Union Park to demonstrate on behalf of the people of Palestine.
These random acts of slapstick were a stark counterpoint to an event more sincere than sizable. Organizers had predicted a turnout of 20,000 or more and a credulous media, convinced 2024 was the new 1968, transformed those hopeful numbers into big, scary headlines. But taking every lazy argument into account, 2024 only resembles 1968 the way a cloud might resemble Grandma. You can see her sweet smile and that weird growth on her neck so clearly up there in the sky, but no matter how much that Grandma-shaped cloud reminds you of a simpler, happier time, it’s a cloud and won’t be baking cookies for your birthday. By the 2 p.m. start time, hundreds of pre-printed picket signs remained spread across the lawn, uncollected. It seemed unlikely that the protest would attract even a quarter of its projected numbers.
The protests were more sincere than sizable. (Photo: Chris Davis)
A big reason 2024 wasn’t like 1968 is the fact that Democrats weren’t engaged in a contentious fight to choose their candidate. This certainly could have happened and even typically level-headed pundits like Ezra Klein fantasized an open or brokered convention, rationalizing that the Democratic Party could only be perfected and purified by walking through a fire certain to burn bridges and destroy alliances. But that never happened. Biden selected his Vice President Kamala Harris to succeed him, just as she would should he ever become unable to fulfill the duties of office, and to everybody’s surprise, the Democrats, a coalition party rarely able to agree on anything, got fully on board with a candidate voters hadn’t much liked the one time she ran for the nomination.
’68 was a rough ride for America. We lost MLK and Bobby Kennedy to assassins who didn’t miss. Conscripted American soldiers were dying in Vietnam, the Civil Rights Movement and American youth counterculture were in their fullest blossom, and the angry, young protesters who made their stand in Chicago truly believed the pressure they built there might determine who’d be picked to lead the Democratic ticket. Inside the convention, things were equally fraught with many delegates shouting, “No! No!” when Hubert Humphrey, who’d backed Johnson’s escalation of conflict in Vietnam, secured the party’s nomination.
’68 is also the year when Alabama Governor George Wallace, a right-wing extremist hellbent on denying either party an electoral majority, broke with the Democratic Party to make his own run at the White House, taking a big chunk of the “forget Hell!” South with him. Outside of President Biden choosing not to seek reelection and American involvement in a foreign civil war, 1968 and 2024 couldn’t be more dissimilar.
Even President Biden, in his emotional address to the DNC said, without reservation, “Those protesters out in the street have a point.” Only, he didn’t stop there, while he was ahead. “A lot of innocent people are being killed on both sides,” he concluded, glossing over the disproportionate carnage that’s led to charges of war crimes and accusations of genocide against Israel, and to normal complaints from the back of the bus.
In 2004 America held its first post-9/11 political conventions, and as it’s so frequently stated, after that infamous date, “everything changed.” Manhattan locked down when the Republican National Convention landed in town.
The National Guard greeted the bridge-and-tunnel crowd with barricades and heavier arms, while a militarized police force took to the streets, throwing up barricades faster than protesters could pour into the city. New York arrested more than 1,800 people over four days, including kids, media, and bystanders. Detainees were taken to a makeshift detention camp called Pier 57, but described as, “Guantanamo on the Hudson.” More than 300 protesters were arrested by militarized police in St. Paul, Minnesota, on the first day of the RNC in 2008, and similar numbers were arrested each subsequent day during that convention. America’s misadventures in Iraq were still on the ballot and the whole world was experiencing massive economic collapse. Protest was heavy and the police response was disproportionate.
America was still at war during the 2016 conventions, but the public wasn’t activated to the same degree. Protest diminished and, for the Democrats, it was almost exclusively an internal squabble. Although senator and presidential hopeful Bernie Sanders was giving Clinton his full-throated support, his disappointed supporters refused to let go of his lost candidacy. They turned out in force to protest by taping their mouths shut, and slamming against the perimeter barricades, where they were summarily arrested by militarized police.
I mention all of this protest history because one of the notable changes in both Milwaukee and Chicago compared to past conventions is how differently they were policed. Recent police raids clearing pro-Palestine encampments in Chicago encouraged our talking heads to dream harder about the ghost of Mayor Daley and a 1968 redux. But Chicago’s old-school head-busting police aren’t who showed up to serve and protect at the DNC. Bicycle cops and police wearing their everyday uniforms circled Union Park, where the bulk of the convention’s protests originated, to observe like an audience prepared for something other than the very worst.
Riot cops did get busy for a short time on Tuesday, when a fringe protest led by groups like Behind Enemy Lines and Samidoun (vocally supportive of Hamas’ October 7th attack against Israel) got out of hand. During that one action, police made 50 of 74 total arrests spread across four days of mostly peaceful public demonstration. It’s not a perfect example, but this is progress.
So what year is it again, if not 1968? When I heard the chants of “Lock him up,” I was rocketed back to the 2016 RNC, when Hillary’s emails were big news and chants of “Lock her up” shook Cleveland’s Rocket Mortgage Fieldhouse.
Now that Trump’s a convicted felon 34 times over, the irony is too delicious, and I wanted to enjoy watching the former senator from New York and failed presidential contender enjoy her moment. But no matter how perfectly poetic, or deserved, hearing a mob calling for the incarceration of their immediate political rival is somehow no less chilling now than it was eight years ago.
But what do I know? Nielsen ratings for the DNC’s first night demolished the RNC’s opening by a margin of 29 percent and, against the usual trend, the Democrats increased viewership each night. It’s interesting to consider how only a month ago serious commentators watching the RNC’s opening night contemplated the possibility of a once-in-a-generation political realignment favoring the GOP. It’s helpful to remember how the Democrats’ increased viewership, though in the millions, might be accounted for within the biggest blue areas and reflect no electoral college advantage whatsoever. It’s important to know that almost four times as many people tuned in to watch the DNC in 1968, when real Americans watched TV, goddammit.
Critics of the 2024 convention have astutely recognized that it was largely about feelings, and feelings aren’t a plan. True enough, but politics is made out of feelings. In recent cycles, anger, fear, hope, grief, grievance, and a host of other feelings have driven voters to the polls, why not bet on joy, for a change? Policy is key, but as Al Gore will surely tell you, if you lead with it, they put you in a lockbox.
What else can I say about the Democrats’ superb execution at the United Center that won’t have been said a thousand times already by the time anybody reads this article? Has anybody else noted how even the venue’s name seemed to announce party goals every time it was spoken? A united center is literally what I saw in Chicago. The only thing that might bring normie America together harder than the unrehearsed display of love Tim Walz’s son Gus showed for his dad is the near-universal revulsion evinced when the weirdo tried to mock him for it. The 2024 convention was a credible, joyful attempt by Democrats to reclaim ideas long ago hijacked by the right: ideas like family values, patriotism, and … well … “normal.”
In the fight against Trump, J.D. Vance, and the whole Project 2025 gang, it currently looks like the only thing still dividing Democrats is Palestine. Vice President Harris’ near-flawless closing night speech promised a different approach. With its rhetoric about Palestinian self-determination, she also promised to give Israel everything it needs in the meantime.
Activists demanding disinvestment and an arms embargo remain unconvinced and uncommitted. For them, the D-bus is stalled, all they are hearing from the cop up front is fairytales, and the threat of getting off and walking is real. So the big question going into the homestretch of this, the latest most important election of our lifetime: Will the Center hold, or will we elect Nixon? — Chris Davis
Kamala Harris plans to expand access to healthcare. (Photo: Hush Naidoo Jade Photography | Unsplash)
As the November election approaches, the nation again nears a crossroads on healthcare, with candidates diverging on a basic question of equity: Who is to bear the risks and costs of care? For Donald Trump, his congressional allies, and conservative policy analysts, the answer is clear: cut government spending and shift the risks and costs back onto individuals, employers, and states. For Kamala Harris, the priorities move in a strikingly different direction: expand access to healthcare, strengthening the federal government’s role in guaranteeing healthcare for all Americans, no matter what their socioeconomic status may be.
The differences show up most pointedly in the candidates’ positions on the Affordable Care Act (ACA) and Medicaid. Fourteen years after Congress passed the ACA, providing subsidies that enabled millions of Americans to obtain health insurance, the percentage of uninsured Americans has declined to a historic low of less than eight percent. Vice President Harris has advocated for, and defended, the ACA, and is expected to support the extension of enhanced subsidies, introduced during the pandemic, beyond their expiration date of 2025. These subsidies have made it possible for many people to obtain marketplace coverage.
Donald Trump tried and failed to repeal the ACA in 2017, and since then he has vowed he “would make it much better than it is right now,” though without providing specifics. One likely course of action, however, would be to target the ACA’s protection of individuals against insurance denial because of preexisting health conditions. As president, Trump authorized the expansion of short-term insurance plans as an alternative to the more comprehensive ACA marketplace plans. These short-term plans allowed insurers to bar people from coverage because of preexisting conditions, and to set rates based on their medical histories.
More recently, the Republican Study Committee, a group comprising four-fifths of Republican congressional members and their leadership, released a budget proposal calling — among many other things — for an end to the federal government’s regulation regarding preexisting conditions, and allowing states to decide whether or not to keep the rule.
Medicaid also represents a major difference between the candidates. A joint federal-state program established in 1965 along with Medicare, Medicaid now provides health insurance for almost 75 million low-income Americans. When Congress passed the Affordable Care Act in 2014, it included a provision to expand Medicaid coverage to all Americans earning up to 138 percent of the Federal Poverty Level. Forty-one states, including the District of Columbia, adopted the expanded coverage, along with federal matching grants to go with it, and 10 states (primarily Republican-controlled states) rejected it, keeping insurance out of reach for many low-income residents.
As president, Donald Trump approved waivers allowing states to set work requirements in order for people to receive Medicaid, and waiver programs have proved costly and ineffective. The Biden-Harris administration withdrew those waivers, claiming that work requirements do nothing to advance the purpose of Medicaid, which has been to expand access to healthcare.
What should voters make of these differences? One way to begin answering the question is to listen to people closest to the issues. An internist working at a San Francisco public hospital writes of treating an indigent man who requested hospice care rather than undergoing an amputation for a bone infection in his arm, an infection that didn’t respond to antibiotics. The man explained that with an amputated arm, he’d be much more vulnerable to assault on the streets, and thus he opted for hospice — unless he was able to get housing — a goal far out of reach in a city with a critical shortage of available housing.
The man eventually died of sepsis (the physician refers to the cause as “end-stage poverty”), and the internist explains, “ … that illness in our patients isn’t just a biological phenomenon. It’s the manifestation of social inequality in people’s bodies.”
The U.S. spends more money per capita on healthcare than any comparable nation in wealth and size, and yet life expectancy in the nation is lower than that of any peer nation. There are many reasons for this, one certainly having to do with the U.S. being the only advanced nation without universal healthcare for its citizens. Poverty and racism factor significantly as well, with persistent indicators like major racial gaps in maternal and infant mortality. A recent California study found that babies born to the poorest Black mothers have almost twice the mortality rate of the poorest white mothers, and even babies born to the wealthiest Black mothers have a higher mortality rate than the poorest white mothers.
The U.S. has been slowly moving in the direction of other advanced nations, gradually increasing the federal role in guaranteeing healthcare for all. This November’s election will be a referendum of sorts, indicating a continuation of the present direction or a significant reversal of policy. At stake is a choice between leaving individuals more or less to their own devices in a highly unequal society, or recognizing that healthcare — and the eradication of inequity — is a collective responsibility.
Andrew Moss, syndicated by PeaceVoice, writes on labor, nonviolence, and culture from Los Angeles. He is an emeritus professor (nonviolence studies, English) from the California State University.
