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Ibrahim Traoré Would Like to Be Thomas Sankara’s Heir ### Burkina Faso’s military leader, Ibrahim Traoré, has styled himself as the political heir of Thomas Sankara. However, the substance of Traoré’s record since taking power in 2022 is much less ambitious than Sankara’s agenda as president in the 1980s. * * * Ibrahim Traoré, Burkina Faso’s leader since 2022, polarizes opinion, not only in his own country but also on the Pan-African and internationalist left. His ambitious projects are an important part of a wider trend in contemporary African politics. (Sergey Bobylev / RIA Novosti / Anadolu via Getty Images) Ibrahim Traoré, president of Burkina Faso since October 2022, polarizes opinion, not only in Burkina Faso itself but also on the Pan-African and internationalist left. Some cheer for him as the hope for a new Pan-Africanism, the long overdue end of French imperialism in West Africa, and (resource) sovereignty. Others point to the authoritarian traits of the regime and to the repression against trade unionists, civil society activists, and journalists. The scope of Traoré’s political projects and the pace at which they are being implemented are significant. This is generating enthusiasm, particularly among the young generation, who vehemently reject French neocolonial dominance and are highly frustrated by a gerontocratic political system that is unable or unwilling to deliver reform. However, the question remains whether a military government can be the alternative, and whether the ends justify the means. # Coups to Fight Terrorism Ibrahim Traoré and his “Patriotic Movement for Safeguard and Restoration” (MPSR 2) seized power through a coup d’état on September 30, 2022. Traoré overthrew the previous military government of Lieutenant Colonel Paul-Henri Sandaogo Damiba, which had itself only come to power in January 2022 through a coup. Damiba’s junta called itself MPSR. "Ibrahim Traoré polarizes opinion, not only in Burkina Faso itself but also on the Pan-African and internationalist left." Neither Damiba nor Traoré came to power with a worked-out political-ideological agenda. They both justified their coups by pointing to the previous government’s failure to cope with the security crisis. Attacks by jihadist groups had increased massively since the late 2010s, resulting in several thousand deaths annually, closures of schools and medical facilities, and the internal displacement of over two million people. Given that his main and only agenda was the “fight against terror,” at the end of 2022, no one would have predicted that Traoré would implement political reforms, some of which were far-reaching, in the space of just three years. Already in January 2023, he called on France to withdraw its remaining troops, consisting of four hundred special forces soldiers who were supposed to fight the jihadist groups. The withdrawal of French troops was popular with many people in the region, and in Burkina Faso in particular. Radical social movement organizations have been mobilizing against French neocolonial dominance for many years. At the end of the 2010s, however, such mobilization spread widely beyond the circles of radical activists. This broadening was related to the rapidly deteriorating security situation and the perception that the highly equipped French special forces were clearly unable — or unwilling — to push back the jihadist groups. “It’s not for our beautiful eyes that France is here,” one activist remarked in December 2020. Traoré has taken up the anti-French sentiment, which had increased since 2019, and used it to generate support for his government. # A New Geopolitical Bloc Along with the rapid change in relations with France since 2022, there has also been a shift when it comes to neighboring Benin and Côte d’Ivoire as well as the Economic Community of West African States (ECOWAS). ECOWAS suspended Mali, Burkina Faso, and Niger as members after the respective military coups in those countries. After the coup in Niger in July 2023, ECOWAS and France put pressure on the junta in Niger to reinstate the previous president, Mohamed Bazoum. Benin, Côte d’Ivoire, and Senegal signaled their willingness to send troops to Niger. It was obvious for the military governments in Mali and Burkina Faso that they should fear a similar intervention. "Burkina Faso, Mali, and Niger announced their withdrawal from ECOWAS in January 2024." They declared their solidarity with Niger and their intention to support it militarily, if that proved necessary. In a move that was hardly surprising, Burkina Faso, Mali, and Niger announced their withdrawal from ECOWAS in January 2024. The end of their status as members was formally confirmed one year later. The adoption of the Liptako-Gourma Charter by the three countries in September 2023 laid the foundations for the establishment of the Confederation of Sahel States (AES) in July 2024. It was primarily a response to external pressure, created as a mutual defence pact following the crisis of July–August 2023, although it has continued to develop beyond that point of origin. A joint TV channel (AES TV) and an investment and development bank were established in 2025. Defense and security policy still remain at the center of the alliance. In December 2025, the five-thousand-strong AES Unified Force was launched. The AES does not represent a new Pan-African movement so much as a new geopolitical bloc that reflects the recent regional and global geopolitical shifts. “Like a marriage of reason,” as AES TV’s director, Salif Sanogo, put it. # More Economic Sovereignty, Fewer Civil Liberties? The Traoré government has also implemented a number of reforms in domestic and economic policy. A new mining law was adopted in July 2024 that promotes local processing of minerals and formalization of artisanal mining and grants the state the right to purchase shares of mining projects. The mandatory state share in a mine increased from 10 to 15 percent. In August 2024, the government acquired two gold mines (out of twelve in the country, all operated by multinational mining companies) for US$90 million. It transferred them to the state-owned Société de Participation Minière du Burkina (SOPAMIB). Prominent projects aimed at boosting the local economy include two tomato processing plants, which were largely financed by the state and inaugurated by Traoré in September and December 2024. Strengthening value creation in the country and increasing state participation in the mining sector have long been demands of social movements and radical civil society groups. Ironically, those demands are now being addressed by a government that has also proven to be repressive toward such movements and activists. "The military government has been able to implement its projects in part because there is effectively no institutional room for opposition." In fact, the military government has been able to implement its projects in part because there is effectively no institutional room for opposition and the scope for criticism by the media, social movements, and organized civil society is significantly limited. The civilian government under Roch Marc Christian Kaboré, who was ousted by Damiba’s coup in January 2020, had already restricted freedoms of assembly, expression, and the press, citing the terrorist threat, during Kaboré’s first term of as president (2015–19). The activities of political parties have been suspended since October 2022. In February 2026, political parties and groups were formally dissolved. The Burkinabé Journalists’ Association was also dissolved in March 2025, and its president and vice president, as well as a number of other journalists, were forcibly detained. Some of the detained journalists later appeared in a video wearing military uniforms, having been conscripted to fight terrorism. Control over the media is strong. The country’s most important independent radio station, Radio Oméga, was suspended in August–September 2023 when it broadcast an interview with a representative of a civil society organization on the coup in Niger. It was suspended again for three months in August 2025 after referring to the government as a “junta” — a term that the authorities deemed “inappropriate” as well as “prejudicial and offensive.” Social media in particular plays a key — and problematic — role. While the possibilities for media coverage are limited, social media is heavily used to generate support for Traoré and his government. Traoré has become a star in this field within a very short time. A significant part of the images and videos circulating on social media are AI-generated: praise for Traoré from Beyoncé, Justin Bieber, and Rihanna, for example, or a message from the pope. It is virtually impossible to trace how these videos came to be made. The hype on social media has combined with a lack of alternative information and the strong desire, especially among the younger generation, for substantial change in political and economic structures, namely an end to neocolonial and imperialist exploitation and domination. This has led to Ibrahim Traoré being stylized as a Pan-Africanist revolutionary. # Sankara and Traoré References to Thomas Sankara, with whom Traoré has been compared frequently, form part of this image. Sankara, who served as president from 1983 to 1987, was also an ambitious young military officer who came to power through a coup. He is an icon of Pan-Africanism, referred to as “Africa’s Ché.” "References to Thomas Sankara, with whom Traoré has been compared frequently, form part of his Pan-Africanist revolutionary image." In terms of political-ideological content, the comparison between the two men is only valid to a limited extent. But it has a real impact on public discourse, and Traoré himself knows how to use allusions to Sankara as a way to gain legitimacy. His government declared the anniversary of Sankara’s assassination, October 15, to be a national holiday for the first time in 2023. It honored Sankara with the title “hero of the nation” and renamed one of the central roads in Ouagadougou, Boulevard Charles de Gaulle, as Boulevard Thomas Sankara. In fact, Sankara had already been rehabilitated and designated a national hero in 2000 under the rule of Blaise Compaoré, the man who overthrew him. Traoré opened the Thomas Sankara Memorial in Ouagadougou in 2025, although the planning for the memorial and the commission granted to the Burkinabe-German star architect Francis Kéré date back to 2017, during the first term of Roch’s government. # Polarization The conditions for movements and activists have changed significantly in recent years. Human rights organizations, youth groups, and labor unions that had been active in the country for decades had already been struggling with the security crisis since the late 2010s. This made large-scale activities across the country difficult. Restrictions on civil rights under the state of emergency further limited their scope for action. Under the 2023 policy of “general mobilization,” the transitional government empowered itself to requisition people and goods for the “fight against terror.” It has applied the decree to conscript journalists and representatives of civil society organizations and trade unions to participate in counterterrorism operations across the country. While the organizations that mobilized the popular insurrection of 2014 have been pushed into the background, a number of new groups and social media activists have emerged in recent years. They are less concerned with their own political and ideological agendas than with supporting the current government. "Under the 2023 policy of ‘general mobilization,’ the transitional government empowered itself to requisition people and goods for the ‘fight against terror.’" The most visible are the “Wayiyan,” groups of mostly young men in cities who gather at roundabouts and other central locations to observe the “smooth running of the transition.” According to Rahmane Idrissa, to ensure that the transition can “run smoothly,” they threatened to attack anyone who organized a ceremony to mark the 2014 insurrection’s anniversary. It is difficult to understand why a progressive popular revolution, as the Burkinabe president proclaimed it to be on April 2, 2025, would need to restrict the action of movements and media that have long been campaigning for policies such as resource sovereignty. Traoré cultivates his image as a revolutionary, as Sankara once did, and the association with Sankara plays an important role in this image. Those who discuss the politics of Sankara often refer to his philosophy as a form of pragmatic socialism. Traoré’s outlook is rather more pragmatic than socialist. This approach may be strategically astute, as it appeals not only to the younger generation but also to powerful religious and traditional elites. Sankara’s experience showed how difficult it is to overcome those elites. He tried anyway. It is important to note that the conditions under which Traoré and Sankara operated are quite different. In particular, Sankara did not face the threat from terrorist groups that currently dominates the situation in Burkina Faso. However, the main problem with the comparison of the two men is that the link to Sankara is used as a source of legitimacy for Traoré, giving rise to a personality cult that hinders rather than promotes critical debate on political strategies and visions. * * *
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Communists Helped Build the Mighty New York Hotel Union ### Before they faced fierce repression from the US government at the outbreak of the Cold War, early 20th-century Communist labor organizers helped build the New York hotel workers’ union into one of the city’s most militant unions. * * * The US government’s use of deportation to punish political dissidents harkens back to the history of the New York Hotel Union during the Red Scare. (Bettmann / Getty Images) The second Trump administration has been labeling political leftists as “domestic terrorists” and targeting immigrants whose beliefs it disagrees with for detention and deportation. This would not have surprised Michael J. Obermeier, the president of the Hotel, Restaurant and Club Employees and Bartenders Union Local 6, who in 1947 was arrested at his union’s office for being an “undesirable alien.” Obermeier, who was born in Germany in 1892, left home as a teenager and become a steward on steamships traveling around the world. When World War I broke out, he was in England; he was banished and landed in New York, where he got a job as a waiter at the Vanderbilt Hotel and joined a union organizing effort. He spent three decades building a scrappy group of hotel workers into a powerful, militant union that still today represents more than 90 percent of hotel workers in New York. But as the Cold War dawned, Obermeier, who had never become an American citizen, was arrested, convicted of perjury for having falsely denied being a member of the Communist Party, and deported to Germany. He died in poverty in Spain in 1960. Obermeier’s story provides a compelling through line in Shaun Richman’s latest book, _We Always Had a Union: The New York Hotel Workers’ Union, 1912_ _–_ _1953_ , which traces the propulsive story of one of New York City’s most powerful unions through world wars, Prohibition, the Depression, and into the Red Scare. For _Jacobin_ , Jenny Hunter spoke with Richman about how he first became interested in Obermeier while working as an organizer for Local 6, the continuity between the US government’s use of deportation to punish political dissident immigrants in the Cold War and its weaponization of deportations now, and what insights his book might hold for today’s labor movement. * * * Jenny Hunter Shaun, you worked as an organizer for Hotel Employees Local 6, the current incarnation of the local union that’s featured in your book. What drew you to the idea of writing a history of that union? Shaun Richman When I worked there, we told ourselves this legend that one of the first presidents of the union was arrested at the union office for being a Communist and was deported. This was in 2000 or 2001, when the union had endorsed Republican George Pataki for reelection. So the idea that there had been a Communist president who was deported was kind of unthinkable. When I wound up in grad school and took a history course, I wanted to find out more about this president. And it turned out that the story is fascinating; it became a passion project. I was a union organizer for many years and couldn’t get the time to do it, couldn’t get the confidence to do it. It was only after I wound up in academia, and after I wrote my first book, that I said, now I know how to write a book, I’m going to dig in on this project. And I started writing it the day that I sent the manuscript for my first book, _Tell the Bosses We’re Coming_ , to the publisher. Jenny Hunter That union president, Michael J. Obermeier, has a roller coaster of a life story, as you talked about in a piece in _Jacobin_ last year. How did he end up being arrested and deported? Shaun Richman Obermeier was a day-one joiner of the Communist Party (CP) in 1921. He becomes a figure in the Comintern. During that time, he’s on and off secretary of his branch of the union. One of the reasons that he’s on and off, I realize in my research, is he’s traveling to Moscow a lot. He leads a strike against the Plaza Hotel in 1923, and he’s in the _New York Times_ explaining the reasons for the strike. But then, in 1925, I don’t find his name in the union’s newspaper at all. Then he’s back in 1929 to lead another strike. It’s got to be that he was traveling abroad. "When we get to the Cold War era, the federal government is really targeting Communists based on their immigration status." As the Communist Party line changes, he’s a big part of this effort to create these red unions. He becomes secretary of the Food Workers Industrial International Union. He’s on the executive board; he’s a key mover of it. But he does such a good job that he’s rewarded with two years at the Lenin Institute in Moscow. That 1931 trip to Moscow is the one that ultimately gets him into legal trouble. He never naturalized — he never gained US citizenship. When he landed in New York in 1917, it was still relatively easy to become a US citizen. But when we get to the Cold War era, the federal government is really targeting Communists based on their immigration status. From a twenty-first-century perspective, you ask, why didn’t he become a citizen when he had the chance? But the answer is actually kind of obvious. He’s been going in and out of the country, back and forth to Moscow, illegally. So it wasn’t actually that easy for him to apply for citizenship. It was more helpful to not be a citizen. And he considers himself a citizen of the world revolution, not a citizen of the United States. Jenny Hunter It seems like it wasn’t a legal or a cultural problem for an American labor leader to be openly Communist in the 1920s and 1930s. When did that start to change? Shaun Richman Like many Communists during World War II, Obermeier did superpatriotic work. Being German, he forms a German American labor council. There were Italian American labor councils and others that were focused on getting immigrants who were connected to the Axis powers to support the Allied war effort. So he’s doing radio broadcasts for the Office of Strategic Services (OSS) [the wartime intelligence agency that was a forerunner to the CIA]. He’s even in talks with the OSS about becoming an agent. This is what gets him on the radar of the FBI. Jenny Hunter Why was the FBI interested in him if he was working with the US government? Shaun Richman The idea is, okay, you’re working with these immigrants now, but at some point, a lot of these guys are going to return to Germany to be a part of what the next German government is, and it’s clear that they want to help set up a Communist government. That’s what gets the investigation started. In the book, instead of treating this as an abstraction, I really try to go through week by week so you feel this noose tightening around his neck. Jenny Hunter The book does give that strong sense of dread. Obermeier and all these other labor leaders and organizers have been openly Communist for decades, and then gradually, or suddenly, the US government turns on them. Shaun Richman Yeah. And when the Department of Justice begins its deportation drive, he is the second one arrested. First is John Santo at the Transport Workers [union], second is Michael J. Obermeier, and then it’s seven hundred other people after that. They’re all labor activists, immigrants, Communists — all three of those things. Jenny Hunter How did Obermeier end up being targeted? Shaun Richman He tries to become a citizen very late. It’s very fraught. It’s during World War II that he finally puts in paperwork to become a citizen. And now the law has changed: there’s this anti-Communist law, the Smith Act, enacted in 1940. So the Immigration and Naturalization Service (INS) [the forerunner to Immigration and Customs Enforcement (ICE)] conducts an interview with him, and there’s a standard question: Are you now or have you ever been a member of the Communist Party? In those interviews, he says no. After he’s arrested and there’s an effort to deport him, it’s time to come up with a legal strategy. So his lawyers and the CP decide that they’re going to test this as a First Amendment case. He stipulates to being a member of the Communist Party just from 1930 to 1939. He’s splitting hairs, because the [Communist] Party he belonged to was called the Workers Party before 1930, so he could only join the Communist Party when it began to exist in 1930. "The Smith Act says merely belonging to the Communist Party means that you’re calling for the violent overthrow of the US government. The Communists wanted to show they weren’t." The CP was going to make the case that there’s nothing wrong with that. It’s a legitimate political party. There are two members of the New York City Council who are Communists. They said, we’ll put all our books and pamphlets on the record. You won’t find us calling for the violent overthrow of the US government. The Smith Act says merely belonging to the Communist Party means that you’re calling for the violent overthrow of the US government. They wanted to show that they weren’t. Jenny Hunter But he was convicted and deported for perjury, not for being a Communist, right? Shaun Richman At some point, his deportation case gets thrown out also on a technicality, because — in shades of the Trump administration — in their rush to do this they got sloppy. There was a vacancy in the Department of Justice, and that vacancy was not filled by anybody that the Senate vetted. So at some point, the Supreme Court says that any actions taken under that person are null. So he was going to get off, but then the government turned around and said, wait a second, we had a piece of paper here where he says, “No, I was never a Communist.” We have another piece of paper here where he says, “Actually, yes, I was.” He’s convicted of perjury in 1951. He appeals, but his appeals run out pretty quickly. He serves a little bit of jail time, but then he agrees to self-deport. He could’ve cut a deal that involved naming names and he might have seen no jail time, but he refused. So, he went back to Germany. He had some family left there, but it had been decades. He’s this crazy uncle from America who got into some trouble. He winds up in Spain when he dies in 1960. That seems like a really strange place for a Communist to be at that time. But Spain had better hospice care at home, and he needed that at that point. But the union stuck with him. I find this almost poetic. The union began having these annual Michael J. Obermeier tribute dinner dances. They were raising money for him because he didn’t get a pension. They were trying to raise enough of a nest egg that they could get him an annuity. But he passed a few months later. Jenny Hunter There are a lot of echoes between the Red Scare history you write about and now. The Trump administration is trying to criminalize protests and “antifa” and anybody who disagrees with it. Its also using the threat of deportation to get rid of or chill expression by people they consider their enemies. Was that on your mind as you were writing your book? Shaun Richman I actually wound up writing an article for _In These Times_ in 2020, which was a review of Julia Rose Kraut’s book, _Threat of Dissent: A History of Ideological Exclusion and Deportation in the United States,_ and a bit of it was my first time announcing that I was working on the Obermeier project. I wrote in that review that one of the things that’s still in the law is the Smith Act. It was enacted in 1939 to deal with the “Communist threat.” A couple of laws have amended it since, but the federal government’s position and laws passed by Congress say that threatening to overthrow the government by force, and that includes being accused of terrorism, is grounds to denaturalize a citizen and deport them. As I said at the time, it’s an election year. If we don’t treat the next Democratic president as much a threat to democracy as our current president is, we’re leaving a ticking time bomb. I hope Stephen Miller doesn’t read Kraut’s book. Jenny Hunter If he reads books, maybe he already has. I have the impression that the Red Scare purges of Communists from the labor movement in the 1940s and ’50s contributed to the labor movement overall becoming more conservative and less radical. Do you think that’s accurate? Shaun Richman It’s hard to say. We could overstate how much influence the Communist Party had and how “left” the Communist Party kept the labor movement. And particularly, by the time you get to World War II, I don’t even find “left” and “right” a very useful descriptor of what’s going on. The Communist Party spent five years strictly enforcing a no-strike pledge during the war. What’s left about that? "Obermeier could’ve cut a deal that involved naming names, and he might have seen no jail time, but he refused." But what the Red Scare did is it took out one of the last bastions of disagreement. Which is important in labor, because there’s a natural tendency for union people to think we’re better together, we’re better unified, we’re better if we have the same plan and we agree. And that’s great — if we have good plans. But when we’re in an era like we’re in now, where it’s just genuinely unclear what the best bet for the future of labor is, maybe you need more disagreement. Jenny Hunter I was really struck that your book reads like a movie or TV show. You can picture it: you’ve got elevator operators going out on strike and leaving the elevators on random floors so everyone is stuck, and the waiters blow whistle to signal the beginning of their strike during a meal and leave the rich hotel customers with no food. You’ve got people secretly traveling to Moscow, and bootleggers, racketeers, and labor leaders being assassinated. Did you think of it that way as you were writing it? Did you want the book to convey a vivid, cinematic narrative? Shaun Richman So, I should just say the name David Simon, so that if he has a Google Search alert for himself, he will see this. I think any writer . . . you’d be lying if you don’t have these fantasies of: we could turn this into a movie if the right people got interested. But the main thing is, I did want to write it as a story. That’s a little out of fashion in history books in general. But it was important to me, because I’m not just writing a history. I want to write something that could impact modern trade union organizers. And union folks still read books. So I knew I wanted to tell a good story. Also, it had these very cinematic moments, some very poignant moments, and some hilarious moments. I love the act of sabotage, of striking hotel cooks throwing fistfuls of asafetida [a spice used sparingly because of its powerful fetid odor] into the upholstery in the dining room. Or the story that strikers descended on a trainload of scabs at Grand Central, and they bring cayenne pepper and throw it at their eyeballs. And it turns out, they were scabs, but they were the wrong scabs — they weren’t being brought in to break the hotel strike. Jenny Hunter What lessons do you take from this history that unions should be thinking about today? Are there particular strategies that you think should make a comeback? Shaun Richman One of the main takeaways was the experimentation. Union organizers switched radically, and sometimes very rapidly, between strategies. They spend the entire 1920s doing a union hiring hall and refusing to sign any contracts. And then from there, they go to a court-type system of arbitration and one big industry-wide agreement. "If we lose the NLRA and wind up in a situation where nothing is protected and all job actions are equally dangerous, it puts everything back on the table." That would give you whiplash. But they fit their times. You weren’t going to get that impartial chairman system in the 1920s. So they got something that made sense, which gave them a toehold and the ability to live to fight another day. That’s the kind of strategic nimbleness that unions need to have. Jenny Hunter Reading your book as a lawyer, I was struck by how many of the tactics that the workers and the union used were things that I would advise clients against doing — sit-down strikes, sabotage, the thing with the cayenne pepper. You could say this is because labor laws are restrictive and the courts are hostile. But the workers in this period faced huge risks too. Do you think the workers and the labor leaders of this period had a different attitude about risk compared to their modern counterparts? Shaun Richman Yeah, I mean, if you don’t have a pension and health insurance connected to the job, what do you care if you get fired? Jenny Hunter Which is ironic, since you show that the hotel workers’ union helped to pioneer those things. Shaun Richman Another answer I would have is — it’s a little bit pithy and perhaps too cute — but you know the saying that there’s no illegal strike, there’s only a strike that you lost. . . Jenny Hunter Yes. But there are strikes that are illegal and that you lose that are potentially ruinous. Shaun Richman Right. But even today the Hotel Trades Council still does quickie strikes and essentially sit-down strikes. When the contract’s still in effect, if they’re in a boss fight with a particular hotel corporation, they might call a union meeting in the middle of the day, in the lobby. And all the work grinds to a halt, and nobody’s getting sued over it; nobody’s going to jail over it. And usually, the dispute du jour is settled within a couple of hours after the start of that union meeting. But yes, one reason that you don’t see some of those tactics as much anymore is that they’re not legally protected. There’s also an element of muscle memory. Getting out of that mindset of, this is the way it’s always been done. I think union organizers learn, generationally, almost the lore by the campfire. So, if your immediate mentor did things one way, in your head, well, that’s how we’ve always done it. * * *
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“I’m Running Because It Shouldn’t Be So Hard to Live Here” ### Aparna Raj is a tenant organizer and socialist running for city council in Washington, DC. We spoke to Raj about the affordability crisis in the nation’s capital and why the push for DC statehood will be crucial under a potentially Democratic Congress. * * * City council candidate Aparna Raj’s history of organizing for tenants rights, food justice, and labor is embedded in her campaign. (Aparna for DC) For the past year and a half, residents of Washington, DC, have seen the federal administration attempt to take an increasing share of control of local governance. The Trump administration has deployed the National Guard in the city and established a “Safe and Beautiful Task Force,” both of which are expected to stay through 2029. This year marks a crucial opportunity to reshape DC’s leadership through local elections that can push this federal overreach back. Aparna Raj announced her candidacy for Ward 1 DC Council last summer. A renter and a democratic socialist, her platform prioritizes rent control and affordable housing, universal childcare, and local autonomy. She has been endorsed by unions including local chapters of UNITE HERE, the Service Employees International Union (SEIU), and the Communications Workers of America Union (CWA) as well as the American Federation of Labor and Congress of Industrial Organizations (AFL-CIO). Her history of organizing for tenants rights, food justice, and labor is embedded in her campaign. She is also endorsed by the Metro DC chapter of Democratic Socialists of America (DSA). Raj spoke with Sahar Roodehchi to share how she’ll be an “organizer in office,” pushing local leaders to prioritize the needs of everyday people over developers and corporations. She lays out how her policies will support working people and protect DC residents from federal overreach and dangerous immigration policies, laying out a vision of how to make Ward 1 a home that welcomes and works for everyone. * * * Sahar Roodehchi You’re running for the Ward 1 seat on the DC Council. What motivated you to run for office? Can you tell me about your background? Aparna Raj I never thought that I would run for office. Growing up, my parents, when they first immigrated to the US, worked different jobs. My dad worked as a bookkeeper at a hotel. My mom worked first at the back of an auto dealership and then in retail for minimum wage. Later it felt a little more secure, but we never escaped this feeling that things could fall apart at any point. My dad got laid off when I was in high school, and we didn’t know if I could afford to go to college. It just felt like things were set up for us to fail a lot of the time, even if we did everything we were supposed to. I moved to DC, and I saw that in my organizing. After the 2016 election, I wanted to get more involved, so I started doing immigrants’ rights work, organizing during the first Trump administration, and working at a food justice organization. Eventually, when I had my own bad experience with my landlord, I moved into tenant organizing. That really showed me there are tenants in DC who are living in horrible conditions. People are getting priced out of the ward and out of DC entirely. There are people who have to work two or three jobs to get by. There are people who have to choose between groceries or rent or medicine. I started organizing a rent strike with a building in Ward 8, and then I started organizing with a few buildings in Ward 1, like the Woodner Tenants Union and Tivoli Gardens [Tenants’ Association]. "I came to DSA because it really spoke to my values at a time when I didn’t see them in a lot of politicians." In the past couple years, I helped lead the fight to pass Initiative 82 to raise the tipped minimum wage in DC. Then I saw the council repeal the initiative and take away wage increases that tipped workers depended on. I’ve seen our council take away the Tenant Opportunity to Purchase Act (TOPA) for thousands of renters in DC, a protection that gives tenants power [to control] what happens to their home. I saw the council cut emergency rental assistance and zero out housing vouchers for single adults experiencing homelessness. It really illuminated for me the fact that we need someone on the council who will fight for renters and workers and immigrants, especially now with the Trump administration attacking so many people in Ward 1. When the occupation of the city first started, people came out and defended their neighbors and protected each other. But I just kept thinking: Where are our elected leaders? This past year has been really hard; it’s been really hard for a lot of people in DC for a very long time, and I’m running because it shouldn’t be so hard to live here. It should be more affordable and easier for people to come here, to start a family, and to age here. Sahar Roodehchi Can you tell me what it means to you to be a democratic socialist? What have you built with DSA, and what do you hope to expand on? Aparna Raj I came to DSA because it really spoke to my values at a time when I didn’t see them in a lot of politicians. For me, being a democratic socialist means recognizing that every single person deserves a dignified home, good union job, good schools, good transit, and good governance and constituent services. Our government should be providing that for us. I feel like a lot of councilmembers and the mayor have been ignoring working people in DC. Through our local DSA chapter, we’ve been able to build power through tenant unions to take on terrible landlords. We’ve been able to support creating unions at people’s workplaces, to demand better pay and benefits. And we’ve even been able to elect democratic socialists to office across the DMV [region] and pass Initiative 82, which phased out the tipped subminimum wage. These are real achievements that are improving people’s lives. This is not just about winning one seat or about one candidate. This is about building up a larger movement in D, so even after this election, we have that base and that movement of people who can demand better housing and better wages and everything that we deserve. For me, being a democratic socialist is knowing that we deserve better and that we can have better, and then fighting for it. Sahar Roodehchi What are the most important issues facing Ward 1? Aparna Raj The number-one issue that we’ve seen, especially since August, is [Immigration and Customs Enforcement] ICE and [Donald] Trump’s attacks on Ward 1. We have a lot of immigrants here. And at the height of the federal occupation, I would see three or four disappearances a day. Especially at the beginning, we saw our leaders be totally absent and even saw our mayor trying to repeal sanctuary status in DC. As a Ward 1 councilmember, it will be really important to end our local police department’s collaboration with ICE; to strengthen our Sanctuary Values Act; to provide more protections for immigrants like funding immigration legal defense funds, so people have representation in court if they’re facing detention or deportation; and use the Office of Constituent Services and Office of the Councilmember to organize volunteering and mutual aid, because we’ve seen such incredible volunteer power and organizing power in Ward 1. But that should also come from our government — to make sure people have groceries, students are picked up from school safely, and to be on the ground ourselves, providing an extra set of eyes for ICE watch. "For me, being a democratic socialist is knowing that we deserve better and that we can have better, and then fighting for it." Another major issue is the cost of housing. That’s probably the one that I hear [while knocking] doors the most. Ward 1 is two-thirds renters, and rent is rising way faster than the minimum wage. We have rent stabilization, but it only applies to buildings built before 1975. Especially as we build more housing and older buildings get replaced with newer ones, fewer and fewer people are going to be protected from major rent hikes. That’s why one of my major platforms is trying to expand rent stabilization, protect things like the Tenant Opportunity to Purchase Act, and create more housing. We’re in the densest ward in DC, and everyone should be able to live here if they want to. The third thing is the cost of childcare, which is really, really high. We have a lot of young families that move to Ward 1 or live in Ward 1 because we have great elementary schools and a good school system here. I don’t have kids, but I am thinking about it, and I would love to be able to stay in this neighborhood. But childcare is $22,000 a year on average, which is effectively a second rent or mortgage. And our equity fund and our childcare subsidies are continuously threatened in the budget. We need free, universal childcare. Sahar Roodehchi It can often feel overwhelming for DC residents as we watch our rights be threatened — not just at a federal level but at a local level. As Congress continues to threaten home rule, how do you intend to fight for local autonomy? What part can Ward 1 play? Aparna Raj Ward 1 has obviously been the site of a lot of the attacks that we’ve seen, but I also think of it as the heart of DC. It is the most diverse ward in DC and the densest ward in DC, and so I feel like there’s a lot of solidarity that we’re building across different groups of people across different demographics, and people really come out and fight for each other and defend each other. This past year has shown us that home rule just makes us more vulnerable. We will not be fully safe unless we have statehood. And it’s going to be really important, especially if we have a Democratic Congress coming in next year, to hit the ground running and start making DC statehood a national issue and making it clear to Congress that what happens in DC doesn’t stay in DC. Federal overreach is not limited to us, so if we want all cities and states across the country to be protected, DC needs statehood as well. We need the protections of statehood. Part of that comes from lobbying on the Hill, building relationships with congressional members but also using national networks — like the Working Families Party and Run for Something — to push their congresspeople. There are some people in local government who want to preemptively comply with Trump, but our choices under an authoritarian government are collaboration or resistance. And so the only option for us, if we’re going to actually protect DC and people in Ward 1, is to resist and to try to protect people. Sahar Roodehchi You have spoken about your experience as a renter and tenant organizer. Last year, the passage of the RENTAL (Rebalancing Expectations for Neighbors, Tenants, and Landlords) Act weakened tenant rights in the district. How do you plan to protect tenants and affordable housing for DC residents? Aparna Raj We have to make enough space for everyone who wants to live in Ward 1 to feel welcome here. And we have to make sure that long-term residents and people who have been here for years or generations are able to stay here as well. Part of that is ending exclusionary zoning and a lot of the historic racial segregation that’s built into our housing code. We need to allow for denser housing, specifically more family-sized housing. As a tenant organizer, I understand that without rent stabilization and without tenant protections, it doesn’t matter how much housing we build because people will just get pushed out of their existing housing or existing housing will get neglected. Raj picketing for a union contract. (Aparna for DC) During the RENTAL Act fight, we saw narratives about tenants not wanting to pay rent. But as a tenant organizer, I’ve seen the reality tenants face. I’m going to hold on to that and organize the rest of the council against a lot of the anti-tenant and anti-renter talking points they see. I’ll make the case that we have to expand rent stabilization, because otherwise people are going to get priced out. We have to restore DC’s TOPA (Tenant Opportunity to Purchase Act) to be a universal right so that when a landlord sells a building, people don’t get displaced; they have the opportunity to buy the building or be able to stay there with a new landlord and negotiate certain prices. Right now, our housing system prioritizes landlords making a profit over actually providing people with a dignified place to live. The majority of the councilmembers aren’t renters, and I think they often forget that people are just trying to get by. People just want to be able to live and build a home in DC. So we have to govern from that perspective, not the perspective of, “How can a landlord or a developer make a ton of profit?” Sahar Roodehchi How has your experience as an organizer impacted your campaign? How do you see that role changing if and when you’re elected? Aparna Raj As an organizer running for office, I have a lot of relationships with different tenant unions, with different organizers in different communities in Ward 1 and throughout DC. There’s been a really incredible response to the campaign. People have felt excited by politics, both with the Ward 1 race and the mayor’s race. "Federal overreach is not limited to DC, so if we want all cities and states across the country to be protected, DC needs statehood." If I get elected, I’m going to fight for the things I say I’m going to fight for, because I’ve been doing it for years. I keep saying I want to be an organizer in office and I really mean that, because we have turned out this incredible base of people. I keep saying this energy and this momentum doesn’t end on June 16 or November 3. I want to bring that base to the Wilson Building and be able to organize the other councilmembers and the mayor. Because right now, it is big-money developers, corporations, and billionaires against the people who live and work here and make DC what it is. We have to put more of those people in front of councilmembers and make the case for funding things like health care, housing, and food assistance, rather than giving billions to a sports stadium. My role is to facilitate that for our tenants, our workers, and our immigrants, and make sure that I’m able to move my colleagues and councilmembers on the inside as well. Sahar Roodehchi This will be the first election where DC residents will use ranked-choice voting. Can you speak to how that’s changed your campaign strategy? Aparna Raj Because it’s the first election with ranked choice, we’re doing a lot of public education around it. So we’re trying to put out videos and talk to people to make sure they know how to vote. It’s also led to a friendlier election environment, at least in the Ward 1 race. It’s been interesting going door to door. Normally, if voters are super set on another candidate, then you would just say thank you and leave. Now you have the opportunity to ask for their second ranking or to be ranked in general. Voters are looking at candidates’ politics and looking at the campaign and now have that freedom to pick all of the candidates that they like. I think it’s also helped people who may not have considered us before, or may have been nervous about the term democratic socialist, to look at our campaign more seriously. "We have to expand rent stabilization, because otherwise people are going to get priced out." Sahar Roodehchi Before you ran for office, I first followed you through the District Delicious page. How has social media informed the way you navigate your campaign? Aparna Raj I think councilmembers could use the platform of their office more effectively than they do and really make it the bully pulpit for a lot of their issues. Most people are getting their news from social media rather than traditional media. Local government is really opaque to a lot of people, for a lot of reasons — a lot of them intentional. Social media and my experience with it has given me the opportunity to try to open up what the campaign looks like, and if I get elected, open up local government processes. We’ve been trying to do some general public education videos around TOPA, around energy bill costs, around the [comprehensive] plan that’s happening right now. And I think blending my policy and organizing experience with the social media comms experience has been able to distill really wonky topics into a way that’s digestible for a lot of people. Sahar Roodehchi Any final thoughts? Aparna Raj This election in DC really is the most important election of my time in DC. We have an incredible number of seats opening up, and this is a huge opportunity for us to be able to remake the government from one that has been siding with billionaires and corporations to one that will really fight for renters, workers, and immigrants. Ward 1 is the site of a lot of that potential. * * *
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The AI Revolution Could Usher In a New Age of Stagnation ### Governments and tech moguls have bet hundreds of billions on artificial intelligence. If the technology does what it promises, we will have to radically rethink how the global economy functions. * * * Job seekers line up outside of a career fair in Midtown Manhattan. (Craig Warga / Bloomberg via Getty Images) Critics of generative AI have for the most part been obsessed with a single question: What if the several hundred billion–dollar bet on the future of the world economy fails? This isn’t just a concern about the benefits of the technology. Bottlenecks exist at seemingly every stage. Energy supply is severely constrained by regional war in West Asia; information is limited by copyright laws; fewer than half of planned data centers are actually being built; and chips may too be in short supply. Meanwhile, the usefulness of actually existing AI has proved hard to calculate. A paper by Nobel Prize–winning economist Daron Acemoglu calculated that the new technology has had little effect on productivity and is unlikely to do so in the future. For day-to-day users, who employ large language models at work, their experience is often one of having to pick through inaccuracies and confusions caused by machine “hallucinations.” Given the hype surrounding AI, it is hard to avoid the feeling that the whole US economy is balancing rather precariously on a house of cards. For enthusiasts, AI promises to usher in something that socialists have long dreamed of: a world without scarcity in which human beings can move finally from the realm of necessity to the realm of freedom. While cynicism is an understandable response to this valuation-boosting hype, it shouldn’t prevent us from taking this possibility seriously. What if AI actually works? # The Thought Experiment Citrini Research, a New York–based investment research firm founded in 2023 by James van Geelen and known for its “guerrilla” thematic and macro research work, took a stab at answering this question last February. The result was a thought experiment, “The 2028 Global Intelligence Crisis,” written as a fictional postmortem from June 2028. It details a systemic economic collapse triggered by the sudden unwinding of the scarcity of human intelligence. What this means is AI eviscerates service industries, causing mass white-collar job losses and crushing consumer demand. Innumerable economists leaped to AI’s defense, all more or less saying the same thing — even if jobs were destroyed, even in currently high-paying roles, capitalism would create others just as it always had. Citrini’s provocation, while scary, was unlikely to come to pass. I don’t want to debate the finer points of the thought experiment. What I do want to do is set out how Citrini opens up three specific critiques of any AI “success,” and how any such win for AI capitalists would be a loss for capitalism, ultimately further eroding the foundations of the Global North’s economies. # Stagnation and the Role of Frontier Industries To understand how everything going right would ultimately mean everything going wrong, it’s important to see AI as an answer to an economic question: how to solve the problem of secular stagnation. Secular stagnation is a concept that describes the persistently low rates of productivity and demand growth throughout the Global North. There are a range of both orthodox and heterodox theories that account for it, but as the economic historian Aaron Benanav contends, it has become more or less the consensus view across the political spectrum. Within this context, AI represents hope: it is a frontier industry promising the revival of economic growth. Frontier industries are industries that are not yet “mature,” meaning there are both economic and technological gains to be made, promising high returns to business as well as innovative advances from intellectual property to new monopolies to productivity gains to high share prices. Frontier industries include all of the green industries and those in the so-called fourth industrial revolution — AI, biotech, automation, as well as other cutting-edge fields. "Citrini’s provocation is that AI will in fact worsen the problem of stagnation, even if it delivers on productivity gains and investment returns." The bet on frontier technologies is they will enable new growth — new markets, more productive labor, and new sites of investment. Citrini’s provocation is that AI will in fact worsen the problem of stagnation even if it delivers on productivity gains and investment returns (initially). While Citrini stays relatively close to mainstream economics, we can read across its fictional postmortem. In doing so, we find three primary drivers of AI’s destructive future history that map onto specific theories of secular stagnation and economic decline that deserve further scrutiny: the impact of the shift to service-dominated economies on productivity; the rise of services overcapacity; and the impacts on rentierism and intermediation (generating income from the ownership and control of assets and the business of mediating economic activities, such as accounting or digital platforms, respectively) within the neoliberal economy. # AI and My Boy Baumol “Despite the administration’s repeated boasts of record productivity, white-collar workers lost jobs to machines and were forced into lower-paying roles.” – Citrini Much of the orthodox response to Citrini focused on the question of job destruction — that AI would not augment jobs but replace them. But in that debate the nuance of what was being posed was lost. Citrini claims AI will enable a rapid expansion of digital Taylorism into service work. Services have been historically hard to industrialize, as they tend to be limited not only by the speed at which people can work but by being more variable and “social.” But already with chatbots and AI agents we are seeing an erosion of the “humanness” of services. This may lead to two things — job destruction and a surge in productivity. This won’t be an even process. What will likely occur is a bifurcation of services into high-productivity, highly automated service sectors and low-productivity sectors, with the workforce similarly splitting between a small, high-waged workforce and mass of low-waged service workers. This is a version of what the economist William Baumol called the “cost disease.” Baumol and economist William G. Bowen developed the thesis when commissioned to study the economic performance of the performing arts. They found that the labor output of performing arts is generally fixed — it takes the same amount of time to perform a Shakespearean play today as it did hundreds of years ago. Conversely, workers in industry had increased their productivity many times over. While a factory worker could produce ten times more car parts because of the introduction of machines, a violinist could not “speed up” their performance without ruining the product. The thesis has since been applied to the divide between capital-intensive and labor-intensive sectors — manufacturing and services, broadly speaking. The divide between labor-intensive services and increasingly capital-intensive manufacture creates a specific economic problem — the costs of services increase relatively while dragging down the growth rate of a broader economy. This happens as in the manufacturing sector, technological innovation drives high productivity, allowing wages to rise while the relative cost of goods falls. Conversely, in labor-dependent services, wages rise despite flat productivity, causing the relative cost of these services to climb. The cost climbs as wages in labor-intensive sectors like health care and education rise to keep pace with the rest of the economy, despite these sectors lacking the productivity gains seen in manufacturing. "Baumol’s cost disease leads to a low-growth economy where essential services such as health care become unaffordable while TVs get cheaper every year." The impact of this is that while goods get cheaper thanks to technological innovation, services get more expensive. Additionally, manufacturing sheds jobs as productivity increases, shifting employment to the lower-productivity services sector, exacerbating the problem. Baumol’s cost disease leads to a low-growth economy where essential services such as health care become unaffordable while TVs get cheaper every year. Citrini’s argument is that AI enables the automation of some (eventually most) services, recreating Baumol’s cost disease within the service sector. Services that can be broken down into discreet tasks (“Taylorized”) and can make use of an increasingly data rich environment, such as call center work, basic accounting, legal discovery, graphic design, much sales work, or routine diagnostics and coding, will be automated, reducing the total labor force employed and increasing productivity. At the same time, there will remain a labor-intensive service subsector with low productivity growth. This labor-intensive subsector will itself be under immense pressure as AI and robotics advance. This bifurcation recreates Baumol’s cost disease within the service sector, destroying many of the well-paid positions that have retained some degree of workplace autonomy in the process. The result of this transformation in work would be the emergence of an economy shaped by very few highly paid service workers, and an army of low-skill, low-paid workers. All of this would take place against the backdrop of a collapse in the total mass of service employment due to productivity gains. The lesson from technological innovation in the manufacturing sector is that increased productivity means that firms require fewer workers. While new markets may develop along with new services, these new services will not escape the division between a small number of well-paid workers and a dwindling mass of their low-paid peers. The worst-case scenario would be one in which even this low-waged work disappears thanks to service automation. Finally, the remaining low-productivity services like education would also face pressure because of their rising cost. The effect of this downward pressure would be felt more severely by public services than private companies, as an economy increasingly dominated by secular stagnation will impose ever stricter budgetary constraints on governments. # Brenner and Overcapacity “What else were they supposed to do? Sit still and die slower? The companies most threatened by AI became AI’s most aggressive adopters.” – Citrini Part of the dynamic Citrini describes involves AI leading to a vast excess of service capacity as competition leads to companies locking in rather than exiting the market. This is the dynamic that the economist Robert Brenner argues was the structural cause of the global economic crisis of the late 1960s and early 1970s — a global overcapacity in manufacturing. The global post–World War II build-out of manufacturing capacity squeezed profit margins for all manufacturing businesses. Growing global competition in turn drove down margins, and, in response, industry looked to raise productivity to increase revenues rather than exiting the sectors in which they had already made investments, ultimately worsening the profit crisis. Classical economics would suggest that, in this situation, what would occur is a “clearing out” of the lower performing businesses. Investment would move into other sectors where there is growth to be found, while underperforming companies would close down or sell up to competitors. In contrast to a “healthy” capitalist dynamic, where poorly performing companies give way to high-performing ones, what Brenner tracks is how, when challenged by more productive rivals, companies refused to give way and abandon fixed assets. Instead, they doubled down on chasing market share, creating a persistent tendency toward excess manufacturing capacity, reducing overall profit rates and capacity utilization. What Brenner doesn’t consider is the role of nation-states in maintaining manufacturing overcapacity — something already underway within AI. Specific industries have long enjoyed political support, either for military purposes or for far more explicitly political ends, be it to ensure voter support or just as an aspect of the everyday corruption of political elites. "While rentierism may theoretically constitute a parasitic form of accumulation, one that adds ‘friction’ to economic processes and higher costs to consumers, it is also a huge source of employment and site of investment." The Citrini narrative suggests both aspects of overcapacity will come into play. Rather than compelling firms to pack up and move into some other sector of the economy, Citrini suggests that AI will engender a similar escalatory dynamic, where competition drives adoption while at the same time pushing companies to “stay and fight” for market share. As competition intensifies, the drive to industrialize service work and to adopt labor-replacing AI will further reduce workforces while making services paradoxically less attractive as investments (due to falling margins and lower growth prospects). At the same time, governments, caught in a vision of international relations preoccupied with great power competition, will be unwilling to cede AI dominance to their rivals and will instead shore up national AI companies and infrastructure, worsening global AI and service-sector overcapacity. Ultimately this will lead to a persistent tendency toward overcapacity in services, mirroring the tendency within manufacturing, eroding profit margins and tempering the appetite for investment in additional businesses or even entire market sectors. # The Final Euthanasia of the Rentier? “Over the past fifty years, the US economy built a giant rent-extraction layer on top of human limitations: things take time, patience runs out, brand familiarity substitutes for diligence, and most people are willing to accept a bad price to avoid more clicks. Trillions of dollars of enterprise value depended on those constraints persisting.” “It started out simple enough. Agents removed friction.” – Citrini Rentierism is not an aberration, but a central aspect of the economies of the Global North. The most complete accounting of this aspect of contemporary capitalism has been undertaken by the economist Brett Christophers. Christophers brings two accounts of rent together in his work. The first is income due to the ownership and control of scarce resources, while the second is due to monopoly or oligopoly power. In both, rentierism constitutes the ability to generate revenue above “average or expected” normal returns through the ability to limit or prevent economic competition. Much of what constitutes the service economy could be described as rentierism, including most digital services and platform businesses that generate revenue from their occupation of critical nodes mediating economic exchange. Citrini describes this intermediary work as “friction” — it adds to the costs business customers and consumers pay for a service. It also adds to the internal costs of business operations insofar as some specific operations, such as legal compliance or accounting, rely on hiring either certified staff or consultants. Much of the white-collar work threatened by AI is precisely this kind of intermediary work. As AI automates it, it puts not only specific roles at risk but huge swaths of the service economy as well. And while rentierism may theoretically constitute a parasitic form of accumulation, one that adds “friction” to economic processes and higher costs to consumers, it is also a huge source of employment and site of investment. "Rentierism is not an aberration, but a central aspect of the economies of the Global North." The key vehicles for rentierism are investment funds such as Blackrock and Blackstone, making rentier capitalism a system run by and through asset managers. If we bring these institutional asset managers together with those businesses that are rentiers, such as Google and Microsoft, the vast bulk of the US stock market is owned by, and dependent on, rentierism as a foundation. And while we could clearly say around one-third of the US economy comprises rentierist businesses at a minimum, including those businesses and jobs that are fictive in Citrini’s reading would lead to a much higher percentage. We can understand rents and the drive to rentierism as a response to secular stagnation — as a means of securing certain and well-defined future revenues and of escaping the destructive effects of market competition. To eradicate rents would be to destroy a primary site of capitalist investment, alongside whole subsectors of the economy and millions of jobs. It would also fatally undermine stock market investments, based as they are on perpetual rents. While the talk of eradicating friction or even rents suggests a “freeing up” of capital for more productive investment, given services would follow manufacturing into a realm of hyperproductive overcapacity, there would seem to be no upside to the euthanasia of the rentier in this instance. Rather than “free up” business, this development would destroy it. Capital may well be a parasite, but in the absence of revolutionary pressure it is still work-producing. Our jobs might be bullsh-t, but without them there is only unemployment and (even more) poverty. # Whoever Wins, We Lose Not all frontiers lead to expansion or growth. Exhaustion is just as much a possibility. There is much to doubt about the utility and sustainability (economic and environmental) of AI. We are also increasingly seeing labor and social conflict over the new technology, from the relentless build-out of water-hungry data centers to the labor process itself. Yet while we should organize against the further industrialization of our labor and exploitation of our sociality and natural world, we should also be clear-eyed as to the possibility that AI capitalists will manage to push ahead with their agenda. Should they do so, it may well be a moment of singularity, just not the one Sam Altman and company have in mind. As Citrini suggests, it could very well lead to a vast collapse of business and consumer demand, while making whole aspects of the contemporary economy unviable. A profound deepening of stagnation, not its overcoming, would result. The tepid plans for universal basic incomes pushed by Silicon Valley tech bros would be laughably inadequate when faced with such an event. The three aspects outlined above do not even constitute the totality of the challenge AI could pose to economic growth. What made the Citrini think piece so provocative was not its AI doomerism, but its recognition of the threat posed by the technology’s success. * * *
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Anti-Imperialism and Its Fault Lines ### In an age of renewed empire, the question of how to resist has again raised its head. The interwar Latin American left’s debates over race, nation, and class shed light on the thorny problem of self-determination within anti-imperialism. * * * Communist militants march in Mexico City in January 1935. (Bettmann Archive via Getty Images) Review of Radical Sovereignty: Debating Race, Nation, and Empire in Interwar Latin America by Tony Wood (University of California Press, 2026) In the early 1920s, the Latin American landscape was rocked by two political earthquakes. Though different in nature, the Mexican and Russian Revolutions shared much in common: domestically, both fought for the cause of social justice, while abroad both raised the flag of sovereignty against imperialist interests. Most important of all, the triumph of the Mexican and Russian revolutions opened a new space for debate in Latin America, where egalitarian societies and pan–Latin American anti-imperialism were the order of the day. Under the influence of both revolutions, radical leftists across Latin America developed different (sometimes competing) agendas to counterbalance US influence and ensure the dignity of the subaltern classes. However, those debates — and the revolutionary potential of Latin American societies in the 1920s and ’30s — have for too long been ignored by historians. In fact, before the publication of Radical Sovereignty: Debating Race, Nation, and Empire in Interwar Latin America, it was common to neglect the impact of the Russian Revolution in the region, to see Latin America’s political movements through a blinkered national lens, or to associate pan–Latin American internationalism with the Cold War era exclusively. Tony Wood restores the border-crossing debates held by Latin American radicals in the interwar years, shedding light on the tensions, depth, and complexities of leftist thought as it tackled issues of race, the nation, internationalism, and class. Challenging the liberal critique that Marxists ignore the question of race, Wood demonstrates through vast archival evidence that Latin American radicals in fact spilled rivers of ink and held dozens of rich discussions about racial injustice — and imagined possible ways to eradicate it. Even more, different strands of Latin American leftist thinkers and policymakers proposed creative solutions to liberate black and indigenous populations from oppression and bring them into the struggle against imperialism and capitalist exploitation. How to do so was a point of contention: some advocated for the integration of subaltern populations within the existing nation-states, granting them a high degree of autonomy and equality; others called for the formation of entirely alternative national units; and yet others imagined transnational solutions, such as a confederated Latin American polity. # Self-Determination and Its Discontents Tracking those intellectual exchanges, Wood provides a portrait of a radical left consumed with the “entangled relationships” of race, nation, class, and citizenship, where the ultimate stakes of those exchanges were the liberation of the subaltern populations of the Americas. Moreover, those same debates extended beyond the interwar period, establishing a repertoire of ideas, discourses, and actions that were taken up by left-wing groups in the Cold War era and beyond. Leading those discussions, radical leftists “called into question not only the external borders of existing nation-states, but also internal divisions between social classes, ethnic groups, and categories of citizen.” In doing so, they expanded the notion of citizenship — transcending political rights with a more robust vision of social justice —and of sovereignty, understood as a shield against imperialism _and_ as a vehicle for local autonomy, freedom, and democratic self-governance. The concept of self-determination is central to Wood’s analysis — so central that one might quibble that the author focuses on the Russian tradition to the neglect of the Mexican case. In Mexico, it was at the heart of the revolutionary struggle and helped consolidate the postrevolutionary state, both domestically and internationally. Domestically, Emiliano Zapata’s famous phrase “ _La tierra es de quien la trabaja_ ” (“The land belongs to those who work it”) encapsulated the peasant’s right to self-determination as a founding principle of the ambitious redistributive land regime of the revolutionary 1917 Constitution. It also guided the agrarian policies pushed by the postrevolutionary government after 1920. Likewise, from the administration of Venustiano Carranza (1917–1920) onward, Mexico became a global leader calling for “the unrestricted respect of sovereignty, non-intervention, and the right of all peoples to self-determination” as central principles of interstate relations. Wood primarily understands self-determination as defined by the Russian case. Specifically, in the early twentieth century, Vladimir Lenin and Rosa Luxemburg clashed over whether socialists should support the right of national self-determination. Lenin argued that backing oppressed nations’ right to secede from empires was a basic democratic principle and a strategic necessity: without it, workers in dominant nations would reproduce chauvinism, and genuine international solidarity would be impossible. "Does supporting national independence advance working-class emancipation, or does it risk subordinating it to nationalism?" Luxemburg was more skeptical. She believed that “the nation” was not a unified democratic actor but a cross-class formation led by bourgeois elites. Luxemburg worried that nationalist movements would distract workers from class struggle and strengthen new capitalist states rather than advance socialism. At stake was a question that Wood pursues in Latin America across the interwar years: Does supporting national independence advance working-class emancipation, or does it risk subordinating it to nationalism? During the interwar period, left-wing Latin American intellectuals — many militants and “fellow-travelers” of the Communist Party, others associated with the Mexican Revolution — revived these questions and wrestled with the concept of self-determination. Though the concept had different meanings for different groups, they shared “a common principle: that people should have the right to determine their own destinies.” In that same vein, Wood argues that self-determination was a radically democratic concept: “the true core of the idea [was] to extend the right to self-rule to groups long marginalized and denied that right.” Focusing on interwar Communist and Communist-adjacent groups, Wood draws upon a vast corpus of archival materials, examining sources from dozens of repositories situated in Cuba, Mexico, Peru, Russia, and the United States. Wood unveils a web of transnational connections that shaped radical leftists’ thinking on race, sovereignty, and anti-imperial struggle. Radical Sovereignty not only advances a novel argument about the centrality of race but also bucks the nation-centric histories of the Latin American left: debates over self-determination, class, and race were always transnational in nature. Exchanges among leftist thinkers and activists across Latin America were the driving force of radical political action in the region. Wood argues that this transnational web of Communist-adjacent thought and action was far more complex than traditional accounts have suggested. The Comintern (or Communist International) was the coordinating body of global Communist parties, dominated by the Soviet Communist Party. It was the organ through which Moscow oriented the political thinking and action of allied parties worldwide. Several historical accounts have viewed the Comintern, especially under Joseph Stalin, as an instrument through which the Kremlin imposed policies on Communist parties abroad — those local parties either followed the Moscow line completely or were ostracized from the organization. Wood, however, shows that the Soviet line was contested, negotiated, and adapted by Latin American radicals. Their ideas on racial equality, nationalities, self-determination, and anti-imperialism, although indebted to the Soviets, were also shaped by widespread indigenous movements, Pan-African currents, and black thinkers, whose unique analyses of capitalist exploitation were informed by the historical experience of US domination and the triumph of the Mexican Revolution. # Mexico City: A Transnational Hub for Radical Politics Wood argues that the Mexican Revolution, particularly in the 1920s, loomed almost as large as the Russian Revolution with the Latin American left. Little surprise, then, that Mexico City, as the capital of postrevolutionary Mexico, became a hub for leftist political imagination, discussion, and activism. Exiles and radical thinkers from across Latin America gathered there to analyze — and try to export — Mexico’s revolutionary political program, which included nationalizations, land redistribution, labor rights, and a fierce anti-imperialist rhetoric. These transnational connections, Wood argues, were reciprocal: on the one hand, they shaped Mexico’s “political and cultural ferment,” contributing to the implementation of ambitious progressive policies under the postrevolutionary Mexican state (especially the political empowerment of peasants). On the other hand, transnational encounters in Mexico City influenced ideas about revolutionary movements, anti-imperialist struggles, and racial liberation that the exiles themselves nurtured and brought back to their own countries. Mexico City, Wood shows, was a transnational hub where conversations about race, anti-imperialism, and sovereignty took on hemispheric proportions: Mexican peasant leagues (particularly their main leader, Úrsulo Galván) coordinated joint political action with Peruvian exiles of the American Popular Revolutionary Alliance (APRA, especially its leader, Victor Raúl Haya de la Torre), the Mexican Communist Party (PCM), the Anti-Imperialist League of the Americas (LADLA), and the Hands Off Nicaragua Committee (which supported Augusto Sandino’s struggle). "Vladimir Lenin and Rosa Luxemburg clashed over whether socialists should support the right of national self-determination." As Wood writes, “All [these movements] were rooted in a shared conviction that the national and the international realms were permeable; all shared the hope that faraway agencies might help reshape local fates, and the actions taken here and now might play their part in making the wider world anew.” Yet different strands of that radical leftism assigned divergent roles to the state. For instance, while APRA cadres argued that the nation-state should be strengthened to combat imperialism, the Communists thought the state — which responded to artificial frontiers — could and should be remade in the name of racial equality. Internal differences were exacerbated as the external climate grew hostile. Mexican domestic politics, specifically, experienced a “conservative turn” in the late 1920s. Facing external and internal threats and crises, the postrevolutionary government looked to stabilize domestic political life, and transnational enclaves concentrated in Mexico City became an easy target. This included deporting several foreign-born Communists, such as the Cuban labor leader Sandalio Junco and the Italian photographer Tina Modotti. At the same time, fractures within the Left intensified. If, during the early 1920s, diverse leftist currents could air their differences in creative debate, by the turn of the decade rivalries were becoming insurmountable. # The Big Debates on Race and Self-Determination Part II of Radical Sovereignty delves deeper into one of the book’s core revelations: debates within the Communist movement on black and indigenous self-determination were much more nuanced than is often credited. In this section, Wood shifts his attention to different sites — Buenos Aires, Montevideo, Moscow, Lima, and Havana — where discussions on race and sovereignty were foremost among the concerns of radicals. Here, Radical Sovereignty challenges the existing consensus about the Latin American left’s alleged blind obedience to the Comintern’s ideological line. During the 1930s, the Comintern adopted a more confrontational approach known as “class against class” or the Third Period, which precluded Communists from forming alliances with social democrats and nationalists and instead advocated for more direct action to radicalize the working class against the “bourgeois state.” As Wood notes, “while the Third Period brought a narrowing of ideological horizons, it paradoxically created some openings.” Those openings included more ambitious discussions on how to address racial injustice, as well as heated debates over the political significance of the category of race itself. In other words, the added emphasis on class politics precipitated an expanded conception of class-belonging and, with it, an exploration of how class was implicated in racial and national oppression. "In two important gatherings of Latin American Communists in 1929, hosted in Uruguay and Argentina, the Comintern’s doctrine of self-determination for black and indigenous people produced serious tensions." Participants in those debates responded to national politics and social realities in their own countries, but they were heavily influenced by transnational connections. For instance, Harry Haywood’s famous “Black Belt Thesis,” presented during the Sixth World Congress of the Comintern in 1928, may very well have influenced ideas about self-determination in Latin American communist movements. The Black Belt Thesis stated that the dense concentration of people of African descent in the rural Deep South presented the demographic, social, and cultural foundations for that population to achieve self-determination and to be recognized as a sovereign political entity. # The Black Belt Argument For Latin American radicals, the Black Belt Thesis raised pressing questions: Did it also apply to their region? Did Latin American people of African descent suffer the same kind of oppression as their US counterparts? And what about indigenous peoples — was their oppression similar to that faced by African Americans? If so, should Communists fight for the self-determination of indigenous and people of African descent? And did that self-determination mean the creation of new states, or could it be guaranteed within the framework of already existing ones? The Black Belt Thesis, originally informed by Pan-Africanism, global anti-colonialism, and Soviet thinking about nations and nationalities, also shaped Communists’ thinking about race in the Americas. Here Wood sheds new light on the neglected links between global black liberation movements and the struggles of the indigenous and people of African descent in Latin America. Through it all, Wood does not lose sight of the fact that self-determination and race were also stumbling blocks. In two important gatherings of Latin American Communists in 1929, hosted in Uruguay and Argentina, the Comintern’s doctrine of self-determination for black and indigenous people produced serious tensions. The Comintern viewed Latin American nations as political fictions that could be redrawn at will to secure the self-determination of black and indigenous populations. Latin American attendees, understandably, pushed back, arguing that existing states were vehicles for resisting imperial domination. Latin American thinkers held heated, often subtly critical, debates over the applicability of Stalin’s theory of nationality and the Black Belt Thesis. For instance, renowned Peruvian intellectual José Carlos Mariátegui recognized discrimination against indigenous peoples in Latin America but argued that giving self-determination to these populations would only empower indigenous elites rather than landless peasants, creating new bourgeois states instead of liberating the oppressed masses. Afro-Cuban labor activist Sandalio Junco argued that people of African descent suffered multiple forms of racial oppression in the region but pushed back against self-determination. He promoted instead a “proletarian conception” of the “problem of race,” the solution being to demonstrate to working people of African descent that “their place is alongside the continental and world proletariat,” while promoting complete equality among the different races that formed the working class. Often those debates went unresolved, and tensions around race and self-determination persisted within the Left. But they also had direct implications for public policy and political action across Latin America. In the short term, some countries developed policies to better incorporate indigenous peoples into their nation-building projects, while Communist parties recognized the oppression of black workers and actively sought to recruit them. Later, those ideas shaped the political action of leftist groups during the Cold War and informed the legal codification of nondiscrimination and indigenous rights in the twentieth century. Such a granular reconstruction of intellectual history is one of the strongest features of Radical Sovereignty. Nonetheless, by focusing on the Latin American softening of Moscow’s line, the author glosses over the Comintern envoys’ attitude to their Latin American counterparts, which was essentially paternalistic and condescending. Based on Wood’s citations and references, they regarded their Latin American comrades’ ideas on race and sovereignty as erroneous and rudimentary. If, as Wood shows, the Latin Americans did not blindly follow the Soviet line, the question remains whether Latin American ideas influenced the Comintern’s views of race in the region. With the exception of the Black Belt Thesis, Comintern leaders did not seriously consider the discussions of Latin American intellectuals. In other words, did Latin American radicals merely negotiate and adapt Comintern policies at the local level, or did they reshape them at their roots? And to what extent did the Comintern rethink its policies and ideas on race, nation, and sovereignty in response to Latin American debates and adaptations? # Concrete Impact of Self-Determination Part III of Radical Sovereignty follows the path of self-determination as it moved from intellectual to policy circles in Cuba and Mexico. During the 1930s, the Cuban Communist Party embraced a more resolute position against racial oppression and, with it, reformulated its self-determination policy. This led to a significant growth in Afro-Cuban militancy in the party, both in the rank and file and in leadership positions. The Cuban Communist Party initially promoted complete racial equality and self-determination for the black population in the region of Oriente. By the 1930s, it had refined the concept of self-determination: rather than thinking of the heavily Afro-Cuban region of Oriente as a separate political unit, it should instead form part of the Cuban national community, albeit with a high degree of autonomy and self-governance. Meanwhile, that autonomy should advance the cause of racial equality throughout the whole island. Wood demonstrates that Afro-Cuban intellectuals and activists were at the helm of a significant policy shift and were pivotal in reconceptualizing race as one of the leading national problems in the fight against imperialism. "During the 1930s, the Cuban Communist Party embraced a more resolute position against racial oppression and, with it, reformulated its self-determination policy." Having redefined self-determination, the Cuban Communist Party felt emboldened to lead the charge for racial inclusion, helping to pass laws against racial discrimination in the island’s 1940 constitutional assembly. Their proposals triumphed and formed part of the new constitution — one of several concrete victories in which debates on self-determination and race translated into progressive policies and laws. Race and self-determination also shaped Mexican public policy during the late 1930s. By that time, a dominant current of thought and policymaking had cohered around _indigenismo_ , an ideological movement that celebrated indigenous populations as key historical actors and a foundational piece of “national consciousness.” However, concrete _indigenista_ policies also sought to assimilate indigenous peoples into a Mexican nation understood as _mestizo_ (mixed race), Spanish-speaking, and modern. Wood maintains that radical ideas about self-determination infiltrated official indigenismo, moderating the dominant assimilationist approach while promoting a more pluralistic view of education and culture (for example, including indigenous language in primary instruction) and a more materialist vision of the “indigenous question” (for example, pushing for indigenous-led economic development programs). Considering the contributions of labor leader Vicente Lombardo Toledano and scholar Jorge Vivó to this “radical pluralist” version of indigenismo, Wood neglects to ask why indigenous intellectuals, activists, and leaders themselves did not participate in the formulation of policies. This would have been a welcome reflection, especially after the author shows that black intellectuals participated so prominently in Communist-led policies on race and self-determination in Latin America. In the epilogue, Wood argues that interwar debates on self-determination and race informed discussions about anti-imperialism during the Cold War and beyond, even influencing the ideas of the Ejército Zapatista de Liberación Nacional (EZLN) in the 1990s. Moreover, century-old ideas of self-determination reappeared in twenty-first century struggles for indigenous autonomy in Bolivia and Mexico. In an age of renewed American imperialism, it is more necessary than ever to think about how national and transnational collectivities can offer a common resistance. Likewise, as the international order trembles, the Left must rebuild spaces for ambitious political imagination — like the ones Wood evokes — and tackle forms of social injustice and exploitation, both new and old, at the global level. * * *
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Victor Serge Was One of the Great Revolutionary Writers ### Victor Serge lived through a remarkable sequence of revolutionary upheavals before dying in Mexican exile at the age of 56. Serge’s life and work, caught between hope and despair, can help us understand Europe’s turbulent 20th century. * * * A 1913 courtroom sketch of Victor Serge by Paul Charles Delaroche. (Bibliothèque Nationale de France) Review of Victor Serge: Unruly Revolutionary by Mitchell Abidor (Pluto Press, 2025) Many readers will be familiar with Victor Serge’s literary work: his novels, notably The Case of Comrade Tulayev, and his fascinating autobiography Memoirs of a Revolutionary. All his work centers around the great historical events of the first half of the twentieth century, the hopes aroused by the Russian Revolution of 1917, and its subsequent disastrous outcome. Now Mitchell Abidor has written a biography of Serge, based on extensive research and using documentation collected by the great Serge scholar and translator, Richard Greeman. While Abidor does not fundamentally challenge the account Serge himself presented in the Memoirs, he does add much fascinating detail that places Serge’s political evolution in context. # Anarchism and Bolshevism Born to a Russian family in Belgium with the name Viktor Lvovich Kibalchich, Serge went through a remarkable process of intellectual development while still a teenager (he never went to school). He moved to Paris and became active as a writer and editor in the anarchist milieu, ending up in jail for five years. "Victor Serge went through a remarkable process of intellectual development while still a teenager." Abidor devotes the first quarter of the book to Serge’s time as an anarchist. Revolutionaries are not born such, but make themselves, often through a path marked by difficulties and contradictions. Though Serge always retained a certain sympathy for anarchism, Abidor shows that there were some deeply reactionary elements in the Parisian anarchist scene. The influence of radical individualism and a marked pessimism about the possibility of social change meant that Serge was very skeptical about the viability of collective action. It was his later experiences of mass action, first in Spain and then in Russia, that would lead to a fundamental reorientation of his political activity. The Russian Revolution of 1917 was the vital turning point in Serge’s development. For Serge, as for a whole generation devastated by the horrific mass slaughter of World War I, the rise to power of the Bolshevik Party was a moment of hope — hope that it would be possible to construct a quite different social order. The young Serge had engaged in speculation about the possibility of revolution. Now a real revolution had happened, and even if it diverged from his earlier ideas, he was determined to play his part in it. With great difficulty, he made his way across Europe and put himself at the service of the Bolsheviks. Postrevolutionary Russia was no paradise. The main reason — and one which Abidor might have stressed more — was the efforts made by the great powers of the West (Britain, France, the United States, etc.) to subvert and overthrow the new regime and to prevent the hope it embodied from infecting working people elsewhere in the world. Foreign armies invaded Russia to join up with native counterrevolutionaries; the so-called civil war was a war of national defense. Serge, who fought in the armed defense of Petrograd and wrote a powerful history, Year One of the Russian Revolution, understood this well. Certainly Serge had, as Abidor shows, criticisms and reservations about the earliest years of the revolution. But there is no doubt that his main motivation in these years was a commitment to defend and propagate the revolution. He even supported the suppression of the Kronstadt revolt against the Bolsheviks in 1921 (though he changed his mind about this later). Serge developed the concept of “double duty”: the need to confront the external enemies of the revolution but also at the same time the negative factors _within_ the revolution. Like Vladimir Lenin and Leon Trotsky, Serge was convinced that the revolution could only survive and develop if it spread westward. In the mid-1920s, he moved to central Europe, aiming to play his part in the hoped-for German revolution that would have transformed the balance of forces throughout Europe. However illusory the hopes of a German revolution may appear to have been in retrospect, the Germany of 1923, described by Serge in a series of press reports, was on the verge of social and economic collapse — it really did look like a society on the brink of revolution. # Midnight in the Century The ten years of revolutionary commitment were, in a sense, the most important years of Serge’s life. They gave him an ideal and a vision of hope against which subsequent deformations and betrayals of the revolution could be measured. By the late 1920s, things had changed catastrophically. Lenin was dead, Trotsky had been sent into exile, and Joseph Stalin was increasingly in control of the USSR. Serge’s sympathies were with Trotsky, a figure whom, despite differences between them, he always admired. But the regime could not tolerate Serge’s support for the Left Opposition, despite — indeed because of — his record as a supporter of the revolution. He was arrested, savagely interrogated, and sent into exile over nine hundred miles from Moscow. In a sense Serge was lucky: he was exiled, but not sent to a concentration camp. Most of his contemporaries who had oppositional sympathies ended up dead. One of the main reasons Serge avoided this fate was the fact that a significant group of friends and comrades in France waged a vigorous campaign for his release. Stalin, who needed allies on the French left, decided to exile him rather than put him on trial. "The ten years of revolutionary commitment were, in a sense, the most important years of Serge’s life." Like many people, I have often been asked to express support for people imprisoned in foreign countries, and wondered if there was any point to it. Serge’s release shows that such campaigns can work, sometimes at least. Serge returned to Belgium, then France. He continued to write copiously, both journalism and novels. While he had escaped Stalinism, other threats remained. Throughout Western Europe, fascism was on the rise. After Francisco Franco’s triumphal march into Madrid and Barcelona in 1939, France was surrounded on three sides by fascist regimes in Germany, Italy, and Spain. It was, in a phrase Serge coined as the title for one of his novels, “midnight in the century.” When France was occupied by German troops the following year and a viciously right-wing, antisemitic regime established, Serge aimed to get out of Europe and escape to North America. This was the phase of Serge the asylum seeker. Perhaps few asylum seekers have a political past like Serge’s, or a literary talent like his. But in his efforts to find a place on a boat bound across the Atlantic, Serge reminds us of the problems and torments faced by all refugees from his time to our own. Serge found sanctuary in Mexico, which welcomed many refugees from Europe. Leon Trotsky had been exiled (and murdered by a Stalinist agent) there. Serge spent his last years surrounded by European exiles, with a variety of hopes and aspirations for the postwar world. He continued to write, both for publication and in his notebooks. He died in 1947, aged only fifty-six, in deep poverty (there were holes in his shoes), worn out by a life of struggle and persecution. # Unanswered Questions For those like myself who have long admired Serge, the concluding section of Abidor’s book is perhaps the saddest. Abidor has carefully examined Serge’s published and unpublished writings from his last years, and he convincingly concludes that in his last years, Serge saw communism as the “main enemy.” "For those like myself who have long admired Serge, the concluding section of Abidor’s book is perhaps the saddest." In one sense, this is scarcely surprising. Stalinist violence was not confined to the USSR: the pro-Stalin Communists in Mexico had physically attacked Serge and may even have tried to kill him. It was small wonder that he would come to see them as his principal enemy. In fact, it is difficult to know how Serge would have developed had he lived longer. He died in the autumn of 1947; the Cold War had begun only earlier that year, with the proclamation of the Truman Doctrine as the US president promised material support to nations resisting communism and the turn to militant strikes by the Communist Parties of Western Europe. For the next forty years, world politics would be dominated by the confrontation between the US and Soviet blocs. Some ex-Communists, like Arthur Koestler, became loyal and enthusiastic supporters of the Western camp. But there was also a much smaller current, represented by figures such as C. L. R. James, Hal Draper, Cornelius Castoriadis, and Tony Cliff, who took a different view. While arguing that Stalinism had nothing in common with socialism, they sought a political path that would be independent of both Washington and Moscow. Would Serge have backed the Americans in Korea and Vietnam, or would he have stood by the spirit of revolutionary independence that had characterized his life so far? We can only speculate. The range of choices facing Serge can be illustrated by looking at some of the companions who shared his exile in Mexico. Marceau Pivert had been the leader of the French Socialist Party’s far-left faction during the 1930s before breaking away to form a group of his own. In 1945, he returned to France and rejoined the Socialist Party. While he opposed all cooperation with the French Communist Party, Pivert became increasingly dissatisfied with the Socialist Party’s rightward drift. In particular, he remained committed to the cause of colonial liberation and strongly opposed the repression of the movement for Algerian independence; this led to his final break with the Socialist Party leadership shortly before his death in 1958. Another of Serge’s close associates, Julián Gorkin, followed a different path. During the Spanish Civil War, he had been a leader of the POUM (Workers’ Party of Marxist Unity), which confronted the Communist Party of Spain from the left. Exiled in Mexico, he helped Serge obtain a Mexican visa, and together with him had faced violence from Mexican Stalinists. However, by the time he moved to Paris in 1948, Gorkin had firmly aligned himself as an anti-communist in the Cold War. He became editor of a Spanish-language journal, Cuadernos, on behalf of the Congress for Cultural Freedom, which (as became widely known) was financed and controlled by the US Central Intelligence Agency. # Hope and Betrayal One thing is clear: Serge’s perspective is primarily European. Although he had written a very perceptive article on the Chinese rising of 1927, he otherwise showed little interest in Africa and Asia. Yet the collapse of the old colonial empires was one of the most important developments after 1945. Britain was forced out of India, while France fought two bloody and disastrous wars in Indochina and Algeria. How Serge would have responded we cannot know. "If Serge’s death left unanswered questions, his life was a remarkable contribution to the politics of the socialist left." If Serge’s death left unanswered questions, his life was a remarkable contribution to the politics of the socialist left. Abidor’s account is a fascinating and well-documented story; it deserves to be read and hopefully will encourage more people to read Serge’s own writings. All of Serge’s life and work was dominated by a contradiction — the way the very real hope inspired by 1917 gave way to the betrayal of Stalinism. As Serge summed it up: “Out of a magnificent workers’ victory we have seen the rise, on the basis of the socialist ownership of the means of production, of an inhuman regime, profoundly anti-socialist in the way it treats human beings.” It was this contradiction that shaped the world of the twentieth century. The heritage is still with us, as we face midnight in our own century. Thus rebels against the system are labeled “Marxists,” often by people who know little or nothing of what Marxism is. The memory of the Cold War and McCarthyite anti-communism remains with us. There is still much to be learned from the life and work of Victor Serge. * * *
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LA Socialists’ Debates Reflect the Left’s Growing Strength ### Inspired by Zohran Mamdani’s victory in New York and building their own electoral powerhouse, LA’s socialists recently deliberated on whether to weigh in on their city’s mayoral race. The questions confronting the movement are a sign of its growing power. * * * After a heated debate, the Los Angeles chapter of the Democratic Socialists of America declined to endorse in the city’s mayoral election. Such debates are only likely to become more frequent, and more pressing, as socialists’ influence grows. (Jason Armond / Los Angeles Times via Getty Images) On a late March afternoon, beneath the vaulted, medieval-revival ceiling of Immanuel Presbyterian Church, more than four hundred members of the Los Angeles chapter of the Democratic Socialists of America (DSA) gathered in the lingering heat of a citywide heat wave. The air inside the sanctuary was thick and stubborn as members fanned themselves with paper copies of the meeting agenda and shifted in their seats. The proceedings moved briskly at first. Members discussed strike solidarity with the teachers’ union, upcoming labor actions, and campaign work. But as the temperature held and the room settled, the chapter turned to the main act, a more contentious question: whether to reopen its endorsement process for the 2026 Los Angeles mayoral race. What followed was a three-sided debate, carried out with intensity but also with (mostly) practiced comradely discipline. More than one hundred members had signed petitions backing housing activist Rae Huang. Another one hundred supported City Councilmember Nithya Raman. Others argued that reopening the process would risk overextending the chapter’s resources and undermine a carefully built electoral strategy. In the end, 54 percent voted to reopen endorsements, but the measure failed to reach the required supermajority. It was the kind of debate that would have once remained obscure and relevant only to a relatively small organization. As DSA’s LA chapter has grown to five thousand members, and the national organization has become an increasingly prominent force, DSA-LA’s decisions have begun to register as reportable events in the political life of the city. What was once “inside baseball” now carries implications for multimillion-dollar races and the direction of governance in the second-largest city in the United States — part of a broader maturation of socialist politics. (Courtesy Chloe Dykstra) For years, DSA-LA has pursued a disciplined electoral strategy focused primarily on city council races, with massive districts that each encompass over 260,000 residents — but where, when the Left concentrates its forces, it can still meaningfully shift outcomes. This strategy flows from both ongoing campaign work and the chapter’s political program, and has delivered results on the council. # Shake Up City Hall Slate Nithya Raman’s 2020 victory marked a breakthrough, and in the years since, DSA-backed candidates have steadily expanded their presence. Today multiple members or allies of the organization sit on the fifteen-member city council, and the chapter has built a reputation for running serious, field-heavy campaigns rooted in tenant organizing and alliances with labor unions. In the current cycle, DSA-LA has endorsed the Shake Up City Hall slate of six candidates. DSA-LA’s 2026 slate includes both incumbents and challengers, with councilmembers Eunisses Hernandez, a Highland Park organizer advancing tenant rights and advocating for improving public safety through better social service and mental health provision, and Hugo Soto-Martínez, a former hotel worker and union organizer who has delivered legislative wins for renters, immigrants, and labor. The challengers include Estuardo Mazariegos, a South LA organizer running on social housing, tenant power, and a Green New Deal, and Faizah Malik, a tenants’ rights attorney focused on housing affordability and land use reform on the Westside. Beyond council races, school board member Rocío Rivas is seeking reelection as a defender of public education against privatization. And Marissa Roy is mounting an insurgent bid for city attorney to reorient the office toward civil rights and corporate accountability. # The Other Citywide Race That last race represents something new. The office of city attorney has historically been low-profile, technocratic, and largely insulated from ideological contestation. Roy’s campaign, by contrast, seeks to transform it into a site of democratic accountability, raising questions about prosecution priorities, tenant rights, and the legal architecture of inequality in Los Angeles. “The city attorney is one of the most powerful and least understood offices in LA, and the current city attorney is using the office to obstruct the pro-tenant, pro-worker agenda our DSA electeds are trying to implement in city council,” said Sydney Ghazarian, cochair of DSA’s Marissa Roy Working Group and a former DSA National Political Committee leader. “We’ve learned the hard way that the policies we pass don’t matter if the city attorney refuses to enforce them. ” Roy’s candidacy is not just another race. It is a test of whether democratic socialists can expand their project beyond legislative bodies into the legal machinery of the city itself. It’s one thing to pass legislation; it’s another thing to enforce it and have the city devote its legal might to supporting tenants and workers. “Right now, we have a city attorney who wastes the office’s resources defending indefensible LAPD misconduct instead of prosecuting slumlords, bad bosses, and polluting corporations,” added Ghazarian. “Marissa will use the power of the office to defend tenants, workers, and millions of working-class Angelenos, not just the powerful few.” # The Mayor’s Race Enters the Room The debate over the mayor’s race sits uneasily alongside this strategy. Before Zohran Mamdani’s election as New York City mayor last November, the question of intervening in the race wasn’t on the minds of many LA chapter members. But that upset election rippled out in energizing waves across the country. On one side were those who saw a mayoral endorsement as a natural next step. With DSA-backed candidates now holding multiple council seats and with the deep polling weakness of LA’s current mayor, Karen Bass, the prospect of a democratic socialist mayor no longer feels entirely out of reach. A mayoral campaign, in their eyes, would bring visibility, attract new members, and potentially consolidate the gains of the past decade. “I want our chapter to be able to seize this moment and demonstrate to thousands of working-class Angelenos that DSA-LA is an organization worth joining, and I want a movement that understands 2028 is not just about returning to corporate Democratic policies but rather reshaping the fabric of American society,” said chapter cochair Leslie Chang, who supported a Nithya endorsement. “Supporting Nithya for mayor is our chance to build a movement here in Los Angeles that is ready to support a democratic socialist for president in 2028.” On the other side were those who view such a move as premature or even counterproductive. The chapter’s strength has been its disciplined allocation of resources, particularly volunteer labor for phonebanking and canvassing. A citywide race could absorb enormous capacity, potentially weakening the campaigns where DSA has its clearest path to victory. (Courtesy Chloe Dykstra) There are also political considerations. Raman, despite her history with DSA and her strong record on tenant protections and advocacy for the homeless, has at times diverged from the organization on key issues, including Palestine, housing policy, policing budgets, and the implementation of the city’s “mansion tax.” Raman has drawn heavy fire at times from DSA members nationally for being accommodating to local pro-Israeli groups. For instance, she was censured by the chapter in 2024 for accepting the endorsement of Democrats for Israel–Los Angeles. At the recent chapter debate, some members active in housing fights raised concerns about her being an inconsistent ally to the housing left in the city and criticized her efforts to rewrite Measure ULA, the city tax on top-tier property sales that flows directly into the city’s affordable housing programs, to exempt apartments, condos, and mixed-use housing. Raman contends that it is a tactical move to keep lobbying groups opposed to the measure from gutting the law with a statewide ballot initiative.. Huang, by contrast, is seen by some members as more closely aligned with socialist principles but faces questions about electability and citywide recognition. “She’s not on the Shake Up City Hall slate, but she’s here to _shake up city hall_ ,” says Gabbie Metheny, a DSA-LA chapter member and volunteer community manager for the campaign. # Democracy Is Good, Actually These are not superficial disagreements. They reflect a deeper tension within democratic socialist strategy: whether to prioritize ideological clarity or electoral viability, and how to balance the two in a political environment still largely hostile to socialists. What stands out, however, is not the existence of disagreement but the form it takes. The debate inside DSA-LA is structured, participatory, and transparent. Petitions circulate. Members argue openly. Votes are taken, and decisions are respected even when the margins are narrow or the outcome frustrating. The result is messy, sometimes slow, and occasionally anticlimactic. Members also sometimes vote with their feet in a mass organization where democratic socialism spills out into a broader movement not always contained by DSA. Formal endorsement or no, over 120 DSA-LA, Long Beach, and Orange County members (mostly new recruits) are volunteering for Huang’s campaign (out of 1,110 volunteers total), taking up organizing roles in canvassing, digital outreach, policy, and more. Many DSA members active in the United Auto Workers have been pillars of support for the Nithya campaign. But messy or not, DSA-LA’s internal debates provide a rare example of large-scale democratic practice in an era when most political organizations operate through top-down decision-making or informal influence networks. The stakes extend beyond Los Angeles. As democratic socialism becomes an ever more powerful force in American politics, questions of strategy, scale, and internal democracy will only become more pressing. DSA-LA offers one possible model: a mass-membership organization capable of contesting elections, organizing in social movements, and still arguing, in full view of its own members, about how best to proceed. * * *
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Dance Marathons Were the Forerunners of Today’s Reality TV ### The dance marathons of the Great Depression have gone down in legend as a way of turning desperate people into fodder for exploitative entertainment. The spirit of the marathons is alive and well in the contemporary world of reality TV. * * * The economic collapse of the Depression created a new base of dance marathon contestants: the downtrodden, the dispossessed, and the desperate. (Bettmann / Getty Images) The venue was New York’s Madison Square Garden (MSG), June 1928. This was not the Madison Square Garden you and I might know, but rather a sturdy, rectangle-shaped arena located in New York’s Hell’s Kitchen. (It was the third building to bear the MSG name; the current home of the Knicks, in Midtown Manhattan, is the fourth.) The 1920s were roaring loudly; choose your favorite Gatsby trope. Skyscrapers sprouted up all over Manhattan like steel and glass dandelions. Bootleg booze fueled the city’s nightlife, sexual expression was on the rise. It was an era of the Madam, with underground queens like Polly Adler providing an archetypal heavily connected women who provided powerful men with their midnight kicks. And a new form of entertainment had arrived in the city: the dance marathon. Madison Square Garden was the venue of what was dubbed “The Dance Derby of the Century.” Its scale, organizers said, would be unprecedented. The premise was simple: competing couples would dance on the arena floor continuously, twenty-four hours a day, for the entertainment of a paying audience. For every hour, contestants were permitted ten minutes of rest. This would continue until only one mighty couple remained, with no maximum time limit. The winners would scoop $5,000 — almost $95,000 in today’s money. # The Train for Long Island Dance marathons evolved from an earlier, more stripped-down version of the spectacle. At these events, a single participant, typically a woman, would attempt to continually dance without rest for longer than anyone else on record. Of all the women to attempt this test of endurance, history most clearly remembers Alma Cummings, a dance instructor who, in 1923, swayed away with six different men for twenty-seven consecutive hours at the Audubon Ballroom, a vaudeville house in Washington Heights, New York. "Dance marathons evolved from an earlier, more stripped-down version of the spectacle." One photographer snapped Cummings in the aftermath — her feet soaking in a bowl, a weary but genuine smile etched across her face — holding up a pair of shoes with gaping holes in the soles like two moon craters. The image inspired numerous other hopefuls to try and beat the record. Attempts became so common in the following weeks that a new record holder would often still be resting from their exertions when the news came through that their time had already been eclipsed. Dance marathons, such as the 1928 Madison Square Garden derby, were a higher level of pageantry. These were more directly competitive contests — participants were not facing off against the clock but against each other. And while spectators had been in attendance to bear witness to the achievement of Cummings five years earlier, the pomp and spectacle of dance marathons was more tailored to sell tickets, entertain a crowd, and, ultimately, make a profit. Chief promoter of the Madison Square Garden event was Milton D. Crandall, a shrewd organizer determined to build a sense of occasion around his latest endeavor. The arena was decorated with the flags of various nations, as if to lend an Olympian legitimacy to proceedings. Coats of arms adorned some of the red-and-white-striped canvas tents that were set up around the arena for contestants, as well as staff such as doctors, masseuses, and beauticians. A rostrum was constructed in the center of the arena to station an orchestra; potted palms were installed to decorate the dance area. There was a certain level of professionalism to the handling of contestants too. All had passed a medical exam to allow them to compete; team numbers were assigned to those who were successful. It fell on Andrew Jackson Gillis, the mayor of Newburyport, Massachusetts, described as “the world’s championship endurance mayor,” to fire the starter pistol. With three squeezes of the trigger, as many as one hundred and thirty-four couples began their long dance. To allow for so many entrants, makeshift beds were jammed into dressing rooms, with some even spilling out into corridors. But a lack of space was a temporary problem. During the first two days of the competition, thirty-five couples were eliminated; thirty-three more went on day three. By the fifth day, just twenty-nine couples remained. There was no rule that stated contestants were required to dance in time to the music, so some duos shuffled as slowly as possible to conserve energy. Still, the Amateur Athletic Union (AAU) estimated that contestants covered the equivalent of about forty miles a day. "There was no rule that stated contestants were required to dance in time to the music, so some duos shuffled as slowly as possible to conserve energy." Among the competitors were Jimmy Scott and Olga Christensen, team number 83, former colleagues at a dance school who felt confident they could stay on their feet for an entire week — enough, they deduced, to scoop the grand price. But the contest stretched into a second week. And then a third. By the fifteenth day, nine couples still remained. To allow each other to sleep as they danced, Scott and Christensen developed techniques to remain in motion while taking their partner’s weight. Despite these inventive methods, contestants began to hallucinate due to fatigue. At one point, Scott found Christensen attempting to pull away from him. When he asked what was wrong, she replied, “To the waiting room.” “What for?” the bemused Scott inquired. “To wait for the train.” “What train?” “The train for Long Island.” # Team Number 7 At first, the event attracted only a small number of spectators. Yet as the days fell off the calendar, and the ability of participants to remain vertical became ever more improbable, interest in this strange novelty grew. By the time the marathon had been whittled down to nine remaining couples, it was estimated that 21,000 spectators were entering the arena every twenty-four hours. The price of admission rose accordingly from $1.50 to $3.30. The _New York Times_ printed daily updates; _Time_ would later publish a lengthy report. Esteemed guests included former heavyweight champion Jack Dempsey and screen star Mae West. As the attention mushroomed, so did the furor. Rumors swirled of a contestant at a dance marathon in Wilkes-Barre, Pensylvania, who had suffered an internal hemorrhage a week after he left the dance floor, panicking New York officials. The person with ultimate authority was the city’s Health Commissioner Louis I. Harris, who entered the job with the stated ambition of adding ten years to the life of the average New Yorker. Facing mounting pressure, Harris issued the order: Crandall had to shut it down. "By the time the marathon had been whittled down to nine remaining couples, it was estimated that 21,000 spectators were entering the arena every twenty-four hours." The scene at the Garden became ridiculous. With half an hour to go before the imposed shutdown deadline, Crandall mounted the rostrum to announce he was moving the entire event to a more accommodating state. “In this land of the free and home of the brave,” he shouted, “no one ever got stomach ulcers from dancing. . . . Every participant except the male member of team Number 7 has agreed to follow me to New Jersey tonight.” This was news to the male member of team Number 7 — or Edward J. Leonard, to give him his proper name. He rushed at Crandall, threatening to punch his lights out for the suggestion he was ready to quit. The crowd cheered Leonard on; Crandall was booed, hissed, and pelted with fruit. Despite the chaos, it was announced minutes later that an injunction had been secured that would allow the marathon to continue twenty-two hours longer. Couple Number 7 was permitted to remain on the floor. Health Commissioner Harris finally closed the show on June 30, its twentieth day. With no outright winner, the prize money was distributed evenly to the eight remaining couples at a party in honor of their achievement three days later. # Endurance Tests Despite the truncated and chaotic ending, the Madison Square Garden event was considered a success. Controversial, for sure, but a good ol’ time nonetheless. Feeling he was onto a good thing, Crandall continued to promote dance marathons until the mid-1930s, when he was shot and killed by Chicago gangsters outside one of his own events. One could read the grizzly scene as the reflection of a horrible truth: any sense of innocence around dance marathons had by this point been shattered. The year after the drama and jubilee of Madison Square Garden, the Great Depression swept across America like a typhoon of misery. Unemployment swelled, poverty was rampant, the nation’s social fabric began to fray and tear. In these conditions, dance marathons thrived. While the most prominent early participants tended to be professional dancers or people who saw themselves as specialists in endurance, the economic collapse created a new, much larger base of contestants: the downtrodden, the dispossessed, and the desperate. Dance marathons did make it to parts of Europe, but they remained most popular in the United States, part of a curious interest the American public were taking in endurance tests. Poll sitting, marathon swimming, and cave sitting all experienced surges of popularity. As the contestants became more deprived, the contests got longer. "The year after the drama and jubilee of Madison Square Garden, the Great Depression swept across America like a typhoon of misery." When a dance marathon came to town, the wannabe participants lined up, not because they held out much hope of winning the grand prize — although the money certainly would have been welcome. No, it was a much more basic need: as long as they could hang on in a dance marathon, they would have shelter and food. In fact, promoters began to fear what they called “hotel dancers”: people who’d enter for just a night or two before moving on. To combat this, some introduced rules such as a minimum threshold of time on the floor. If contestants fell short, they risked forfeiting their personal belongings. In _They Shoot Horses, Don’t They?_ , a 1969 film starring Jane Fonda that codified the idea of the Depression-era dance marathon for a new generation, one character leaves the contest for the simple reason that he’s been offered an interview for a fortnight of work elsewhere. For these lowly survivors, there was no passion for the pageantry of the event. # Sticking It Out Townspeople were often reluctant to have a dance marathon in the area. Religious groups and conservative leaders denounced them as scandalous — a symptom of the total collapse of morality, another form of popular entertainment degrading America’s youth. Movie theater owners did not want the competition and wielded the loyalty of their patrons to help their protests. In the face of such opposition, promoters had to be transient, sweeping into towns like Monorail magnate Lyle Lanley of _Simpsons_ fame, hosting their events, and moving on quickly. Despite opposition, there was always an audience of interested locals ready to pay at the door. In Chicago, a camera crew was on hand to capture the rack and revelry. In the footage, an on-screen reporter reveals that 126 couples began their long dance on August 30, 1930. A calendar attached to the back of one male contestant reveals the date of filming: January 28 — 151 days of continuous dancing. "Townspeople were often reluctant to have a dance marathon in the area. Religious groups and conservative leaders denounced them as scandalous." And what most couples are doing does indeed look like “dancing.” Slow and unenergetic, but dancing. Except for Frankie and Betty. No, what Frankie is doing is shuffling with his partner collapsed in his arms, dead to the world, as though she’d just been hauled up from a crypt. “I feel pretty tired,” says Frankie, clutching the woman awkwardly. “After going five months, we all feel tired, but we hope to win.” “How’s Betty?,” asks the reporter, gesturing toward the woman being dragged around like an army sack. Frankie tries to wake his partner up so she can speak for herself. Some shaking and shouting finally jolts Betty into life. “Hey, what month is this?” she yells. After some frazzled mumbling, Betty sets up her partner for a triumphant declaration. “You think we can stick it out, Frankie?” asks Betty. “Oh, you betcha,” he says. “We’re going to anyway, until the end.” # Pushing the Limits Some promoters dreamed of the dance marathon becoming a great American pastime, located in its own niche somewhere between theater and sport. But unlike boxing, which since the 1860s has been molded by the wide acceptance of the Queensbury Rules, dance marathons had no governing bodies or settled standards — indeed, organizers would often change the rules depending on what they thought the contest needed or audience desired. If a shutdown was imminent, promoters could simply reduce or remove rest periods to bring a swift end to the show. Then it was on to the next town, to do it all over again. Still, the outline of your common dance marathon typically went as follows: for forty-five (sometimes fifty) minutes out of every hour, contestants had to be in constant motion. So miserable would these movements become that some organizers took to replacing the name “dance marathons” with “walkathons” (which also helped circumnavigate the protestations of religious groups that felt dancing was heresy). This was for twenty-four hours a day. Showers had to be squeezed into the short breaks. Some men shaved while still dancing by propping a mirror on their partner’s shoulder. Meals were served on large tables set up in the middle of the dancefloor; contestants could still not stop moving as they ate. Typically, a couple was eliminated when one of their knees touched the ground. "Some promoters dreamed of the dance marathon becoming a great American pastime, located in its own niche somewhere between theater and sport." Early dance marathons were relatively wholesome, just people testing themselves for personal achievement. But as they began to stretch into obscene amounts of time, the public became invested not just in spectacle of endurance but in storylines. Love stories and other narratives were often manufactured by organizers. Weddings became part of the show, sometimes legally binding and sometimes not. It suited contestants who were more likely to receive money and gifts from onlookers if they could raise interest in their own story. Some were invited to sing — a useful platform for those dreaming of a career in a more glamorous side of show business. Undeniably, though, the arenas were packed with spectators who just wanted to watch people suffer; exhaustion was the spectacle. The dance halls became Roman coliseums of bedraggled gladiators, forced into combat through economic circumstances, for the tossed pennies of the more fortunate onlookers. To maintain interest, contests within the contest were also formulated. The most notorious were the races that saw couples, sometimes tied together or even blindfolded, compete to stay in the marathon by running laps around the dance floor. # Eternal Recurrence By the late 1930s, the popularity of dance marathons was on the wane. The craze had never quite shed its controversial reputation enough to invade the popular consciousness. Mainstream acceptance could have been attainable if the top organizers had managed to unite, but all attempts to settle on common goals or rules flatlined. As the Depression petered out, so did the marathons. As the years past, dance marathons became universally acknowledged as exploitative. This was a judgement advanced by the play _Marathon ’33_ , which opened in 1963, and the movie _They Shoot Horses, Don’t They?_ , based on a novel by Horace McCoy, who had himself worked as a bouncer at the events on the Santa Monica Pier in California. In the film, the desperate contestants include an elderly sailor and pregnant woman, while the marathon is run by a promoter who exploits his position for sexual favors. "By the late 1930s, the popularity of dance marathons was on the wane." For the finale, the titular mystery that the movie has been teasing is revealed when Fonda’s character asks her dance partner to shoot her so she can escape the cruel absurdity of America. It echoed the story of Seattle woman Gladys Lenz, who in 1928 attempted suicide shortly after competing in a marathon. “The world was aflame, and we made this movie about capitalism and greed and people being destroyed by it,” reflected Fonda years later. Everything is fated to return in new, often more cursed, forms. While dance marathons were never again popular, they do have an offspring: reality TV. Once the concept of contrived but formally unscripted television starring ordinary members of the public began to take off in the 1990s, some producers hit on a winning formula: humiliation. Not all reality TV is cheaply exploitative — at its best, it can echo the culture and society of its era in enlightening ways. But exploitation has too often been a core feature. As long as there have been haves and have-nots, the haves have sought to leverage their wealth to encourage others to humiliate themselves for amusement; a grim reality of poverty is that dignity is hard kept. Shows that were nominally singing contests demanded constant fresh meat to ridicule and stigmatize. Even a seasoned parliamentarian like George Galloway succumbed, astonishing viewers of _Celebrity Big Brother_ in 2006 by getting down on all fours and pretending to be a cat. The word “meltdown” is now more associated with reality TV contestants than with nuclear reactors. All for prime-time entertainment. "While dance marathons were never again popular, they do have an offspring: reality TV." The same impulses that drove the popularity of dance marathons come through in modern media. _Love Island_ has proved a busy gateway to minor celebrity status, calling to mind the entrants who saw the competitions as a way into the entertainment industry. _Married at First Sight_ , a show that follows strangers who “get married,” is a direct descendent of the weddings that would take place on dance marathon floors for the public’s voyeuristic delight. The biggest YouTube channel in the world also adheres to the same core principles. MrBeast offers huge sums of cash for people at the bottom of the capitalist crush. The drama is derived from how life-changing the money can be — a reminder that for many people, all other avenues to attain such comfort can feel blocked off. Today we mostly remember dance marathons as a funny curio, an interesting peculiarity of their time. But while forms of entertainment can go out of style, the impulses that lend them their power can stretch across generations. If there’s one key lesson to take a century later, it is that wherever there is an opportunity to exploit desperate people, someone from a layer above them will take advantage of it. * * *
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Socialists Are Cornering Hochul on Taxing the Rich ### The movement for taxes on the rich in New York just scored its first goal against Kathy Hochul. And they say they’re not stopping there. * * * Not so long ago, Governor Hochul said she’d never consider taxes on the rich. Now, after months of pressure from the Left, she is. (Lev Radin / Pacific Press / LightRocket via Getty Images) In the fight for taxes on the rich, Kathy Hochul just blinked. Earlier this week, the Governor conceded to a tax on second homes in New York City worth over $5 million. The tax is a yearly surcharge on luxury residences in New York City — multimillion-dollar apartments that the wealthy collect and let sit vacant for most of the year. The tax is expected to raise around $500 million every year. Not so long ago, Governor Hochul said she’d never consider taxes on the rich. While she loves to pretend that she cannot be influenced by her constituents’ demands, we know this isn’t true. Our movement, which recently elected Mayor Zohran Mamdani on a platform of taxing the rich to fund the affordability agenda, and which continues to grow with thousands of people talking to their neighbors, lobbying their legislators, and rallying across the state to tax the rich, has real power. This is a big step forward. But we can win more. Our city is still facing a $5.4 billion budget deficit. If it isn’t filled, this could mean devastating cuts to critical services. At $500 million in projected revenue raised, the pied-à-terre tax only accounts for one-tenth of what we need to fill that hole, and even less than what is needed to fulfill the full affordability agenda. It’s a step in the right direction, but we aren’t done pressuring the governor to do more. Donald Trump’s cuts are coming for New York. As a result of the One Big Beautiful Bill, New York’s millionaires will be $12 billion richer — while 450,000 people will lose their Essential Plan health coverage, and 300,000 households will lose Supplemental Nutrition Assistance Program (SNAP) benefits. Working-class New Yorkers will get hungrier and sicker, while the rich hoard more wealth they don’t need. These cuts, alongside New York’s well-documented affordability crisis, have put working families in our state on the back foot. The pied-à-terre tax, while raising money from some of the most obscene symbols of concentrated wealth in our city (multimillion-dollar second and third homes), will not alone fill the gap and protect New Yorkers from cuts to essential services. New York City Democratic Socialists of America, alongside our broad coalition of community and labor organizations, is fighting for legislation that doesn’t just fill the cuts, it funds the affordability agenda — broad-based taxes on millionaire incomes and enormously profitable corporations that provide significant stable and recurring revenue. The City Corporate Tax, introduced in the state legislature by socialist legislators Kristen Gonzalez and Diana Moreno, would increase taxes on the most profitable New York City businesses to bring rates closer to neighboring states like New Jersey. This measure would raise $1.75 billion per year. The Fair Share Act, sponsored by socialist State Assemblymember Phara Souffrant Forrest, would increase New York City’s personal income tax by 2 percent on incomes over $1 million — the “2 percent on the 1 percent” that Mayor Zohran Mamdani campaigned on. These bills are critical in part because New York City does not have the ability to raise taxes on its own and has to rely on the state. We are also fighting for similar statewide tax increases on millionaire incomes and multimillion-dollar corporations to fund expanded social services, including expanded childcare, for all New York State residents. As democratic socialists, we understand that taxes are not punishments — they are fiscal tools to provide the revenue we need for excellent public goods that benefit everyone, from ensuring New York’s children receive the highest standard of public education to taking on the housing crisis. In our current political and economic system, which is distorted to protect the richest while the workers who keep our society functioning are continually asked to do more with less, it is not radical to demand the richest pay what they owe. Governor Hochul argues that broad-based taxes on the rich are too risky in an election year against a Republican opponent. She is tailing Republicans in an effort to beat them — the same strategy that, on a national level, gave us two Trump terms. We know that if government doesn’t deliver for working people, they will stay home or go to the right at election time. The latest polls show 54 percent of voters want Governor Hochul and the state legislature to approve a tax hike on New York City residents making over $1 million. Support is even greater among New York City voters and Democrats, with 62 percent of the former supporting the proposal and 72 percent of the latter. If Hochul wants to turn out the Democratic base to defeat Republican challenger Bruce Blakeman and support Democrats downballot, she should tax the rich. Governor Hochul has demonstrated that she can be responsive to popular demands from her own constituents. She offered this concession because, with the entire legislature and a majority of New Yorkers backing taxes on the rich, she’s backed into a corner. This isn’t the time to let up. State budget negotiations are only weeks away from their conclusion, and we’re going to keep fighting to make the rich pay everything they owe. * * *
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Dockworkers Against Russia’s and Israel’s Wars ### In Sweden, workers boycotted Russian ships in response to the invasion of Ukraine, and then did the same for Israel’s arms trade. Their action shows the power of working-class solidarity against militarism. * * * In Sweden, dockworkers boycotted shipping from both Israel and Russia. A trade unionist involved in the actions told Jacobin why workers acted, and why bosses responded with union-busting. (Camille Bas-Wohlert / AFP via Getty Images) Ahead of May Day 2022, two months after Russia’s full-scale attack on Ukraine, Ukrainian trade unionists called for solidarity with the invaded country. Artem Tidva, a Ukrainian left-winger and labor activist, addressed international unions calling for actions to help stop the Russian war machine. In Sweden, such action was already underway. In March 2022, Swedish dockers had begun a blockade of Russian ships. This decision, supported by a nationwide vote among the Swedish Dockworkers’ Union’s approximately one thousand members, highlighted the complicity of global capitalist mechanisms in facilitating Russia’s evasion of sanctions. Yet it also met with resistance from both employers and politicians, and the union faced practical problems in identifying ships belonging to Russia. Yet despite legal challenges, including two lawsuits, Swedish dockers continued their solidarity effort. These efforts earned support in wider society, not least thanks to Ukrainian President Volodymyr Zelensky mentioning the action in a speech. Erik Helgeson, a dockworker in Gothenburg for the last twenty years, was one of the union activists involved. Deputy national chairman of the Swedish Dockworkers’ Union, he was fired from his port job in 2025 — this time following another solidarity action, against Israeli shipping. In an interview, Tidva and Hegelson spoke about the Swedish actions and the role of worker solidarity in stopping the machinery of war. * * * Artem Tidva Tell us about how shipyard workers’ and dockers’ unions refused to cooperate with Russian ships in 2022. How did it start, how are such decisions made, and what discussions were going on in society at the time? Erik Helgeson The Swedish Dockworkers’ Union is a national union, with workers in around twenty ports. The initiative for the action against the Russian ships came from two smaller ports in the south of Sweden. I think it was just an organic reaction to what was happening in Ukraine and what Russia was doing. We have a long-standing tradition of action to support trade unions in other countries, but also to support human rights or self-determination. The initiative came from the rank and file in two smaller ports, and then through their local organizations it was brought to the National Board. We called a union-wide referendum, which means that all members of the union around Sweden voted on whether to take the action. The support was very strong, so the decision was made, and we gave notice to the employers about our action. Then we faced expected but very intense pressure, mainly from the employers’ organization, but also from politicians. Artem Tidva What was the reaction from Ukrainians? Did you have some cooperation with Ukrainian comrades? Erik Helgeson In those days, it was extremely difficult to stay in contact with people. Most of what we learned was which sea and river ports had been closed — either due to Russian aggression or direct bombings, such as in Odesa. Some ports, like Mariupol and Kherson, were occupied very early on. We reached out to various Ukrainian trade union comrades to ask how we could help. One smaller union, mainly operating along the Dnieper River, eventually told us what assistance would be most useful. "We have a long-standing tradition of actions to support trade unions in other countries, but also to support human rights or self-determination." There were also significant political obstacles. In Sweden, two unions organize dockworkers, and we belong to different international federations. I assume this created some hesitation about whether certain unions should engage with us. Our most important breakthrough came when Zelensky mentioned our industrial action in one of his speeches as an example of genuine solidarity, while also calling on other unions to take action to stop trade with Russia. That recognition was extremely helpful. Before that, employers and politicians had tried to isolate us, portraying our initiative as destructive, marginal, or even harmful. They argued that our actions were unwanted by Ukrainian unions, businesses, society or that we were trying to “bite off more than we can chew.” But when Zelensky’s comments were in the news, everything changed. It gave us legitimacy and shifted the public debate back to where we believed it belonged. While there were endless TV debates about the military advantages of joining NATO and similar issues, trade with Russian companies was continuing — supplying both money and material to the Russian occupation forces. For us, that contradiction was impossible to ignore. Artem Tidva How did your management respond to this? Erik Helgeson The employers’ organization, Ports of Sweden, represents all port companies nationally, so in the beginning most individual companies avoided commenting on the blockade directly. Everything was handled through the employers’ organization. They were very aggressive. They spoke to us as if we were little children: “This may seem like a good idea, but you don’t understand what you’re doing. This is serious, adult business — stay out of it. It’s illegal.” They filed lawsuits against the union twice. Despite this, we went ahead with the action, which created many complicated practical issues. For example, how to deal with Russian cargo that was already in Swedish ports, and how to determine which ships should be stopped. In many cases, it wasn’t immediately clear whether a ship could be classified as Russian or not. I remember one case involving one of the world’s largest shipping companies, where we essentially ran into their tax‑avoidance structures. We identified a ship registered under a major Russian shipping company and refused to work on it. The company claimed they had acquired the vessel from the Russian firm one or two years earlier. We told them we wouldn’t handle the ship unless they could prove it was no longer Russian‑owned. That became a serious issue, because shipping companies are often unwilling to disclose ownership details due to complex registration arrangements involving places like Cyprus, the Virgin Islands, or Panama. "Shipping companies are often unwilling to disclose ownership details due to complex registration arrangements involving places like Cyprus, the Virgin Islands, or Panama." These kinds of practical challenges dominated the first weeks. Some local employers became extremely frustrated. Publicly they said they supported our initiative, but when it began affecting their profits — when we refused to work on ships that, for example, operated routes between Sweden and Russia . . . they became hostile. At that point, they actively tried to stop the action by any means available. Artem Tidva We see that many instruments of modern capitalism — such as the offshore tax‑avoidance system — are effectively helping Russia to avoid sanctions. These mechanisms haven’t disappeared since the war started; they continue to function in the same way they do for money laundering. You mentioned some tax havens. Russia also uses registrations in various African and Asian countries to conceal its so‑called shadow fleet. Erik Helgeson Shipyard workers will tell you it’s not only rogue states or “bad” national actors using these systems. Criminal organizations and drug cartels use them, too, just like everyone else. Everyone knows these channels exist and are widely used, but nothing really changes because the same class that runs much of the global economy relies on them as well. There’s a lot of talk about tax havens and international regulation, but in practice very little happens, unfortunately. Artem Tidva You mentioned attempts by employers to sue the trade union, and I think there were also cases brought against you personally . . . Erik Helgeson The case against me personally is not related to the blockade of Russian ships — I can talk about that later. The Swedish Dockworkers’ Union is the only independent, non-party-aligned blue-collar union in Sweden; we’ve had that role for over fifty years, and it has shaped a strong tradition of international solidarity actions, that means that when sh-t comes up — major political or humanitarian crises arise — there’s almost always an initiative from the rank and file. "After we gave notice about the blockade of Russian ships, we were sued twice." After we gave notice about the blockade of Russian ships, we were sued twice, but those actions were against the union, not me personally. In the first instance, public support was so strong that the employers effectively backed out. However, when we continued the blockade, it increased pressure on the Swedish government to act — and it was extremely slow. While its rhetoric against Russia was strong, it did very little when it came to trade and revenue flows benefiting the Russian economy. As a result, they sued us again. This time, the court ruled against us, and we were fined, with the blockade deemed to have lasted too long — even though, in Sweden, workers have multiple legally recognized grounds for industrial action, including warning and solidarity strikes. In 2025, following a further internal referendum, we attempted to take action against ships transporting military cargo to and from Israel, in response to the attack on Gaza and the tens of thousands of civilian deaths. And the _modus operandi_ of the employers was kind of the same: first, they pressured the union to stop the action, and then — on the same day the court ruled that we were allowed to proceed — they dismissed me personally. But that’s not actually linked to the blockade of Russian ships, but of Israeli military trade. Artem Tidva I’ve seen many cases where employers try to discredit or suppress acts of solidarity. In Britain, when the GMB union organized for better wages in UK weapons‑manufacturing companies, conservative politicians and employers tried to frame this as undermining support for Ukraine. Erik Helgeson Our union’s analysis is that many employers are using the broader context of war, national security, and military objectives to intensify their everyday attacks on trade unions. It’s very common to invoke a different pretext — whether it’s Sweden’s defense, security policy, or even what is supposedly in the interest of Ukrainian resistance — in order to justify repression. In reality, these arguments are often just cover for something else. That’s also how we understand my dismissal. The effort to get rid of me, and possibly other union representatives, didn’t begin with our actions in solidarity with Gaza, and maybe not even with actions supporting Ukrainian civilians. Those plans had existed for years. The wars simply provided a convenient justification to do what the employers had long wanted to do anyway: weaken unions, undermine collective agreements, and roll back workers’ rights. "Many employers are using the broader context of war, national security, and military objectives to intensify their everyday attacks on trade unions." This isn’t only about trade union rights. It also affects freedom of expression and democratic space more broadly. So far, I think they miscalculated. In Sweden, business lobbyists expected deep divisions — some people backing Israel’s war, others supporting Palestinians — but the strategy backfired. It became increasingly clear to many that this wasn’t really about the war or arms trade at all. It was about union‑busting. I see the same pattern repeating across Europe. Artem Tidva You said you lost one court case because the blockade lasted “too long” — what does that mean? Erik Helgeson The Swedish Сonstitution explicitly guarantees the right to strike. But that right is followed by various legal limitations. And when it comes to so-called political action, there’s a time limit. The law doesn’t define what that time limit is. In our case, we continued the action far longer than is usually considered acceptable. In court, we argued that this was not a political action at all. We maintained that it was an act of solidarity with other trade unions — specifically Ukrainian trade unions. Our argument was that the Russian attacks directly affect dockworkers in Ukraine: they cannot work, they lose their income, and in many cases they lose their workplaces entirely. Under Swedish law, there is no time limit when it comes to supporting another union in an industrial dispute. For example, we are currently supporting the Metal Workers’ Union in its conflict with Tesla, and that action has been ongoing for more than a year, close to two years. However, the court did not accept our arguments. It ruled that there is a fundamental difference between supporting a union fighting layoffs or poor working conditions and supporting a union engaged in resistance against military occupation or armed attack. I still find that conclusion very strange. If employers attack workers through layoffs or legal sanctions, solidarity is permitted without a strict time limit. But if the “employer” is effectively a state actor — like the Russian state — using military violence and killing workers, then suddenly there is a time limit. To me, that makes little sense. But that’s how the legal system currently interprets it. Artem Tidva What was the reaction of Swedish society and the media? Erik Helgeson In 2022, when we took action against Russian ships, many people expressed relief that something was being done. There was a lot of rhetoric at the time about European unity, defending democracy, and standing up to Russia, yet many Swedish companies were making sh-tloads of profits by continuing to trade with Russian firms. Once employers took us to court, that contradiction manifested itself. Even right‑wing media outlets were hesitant to openly attack us. Some criticized us at first, but they quickly realized they lacked broader support — even parts of the far right were reluctant to oppose the action. It became clear that they had stepped into a situation they couldn’t easily control, and that’s one reason employers did not fully follow through on their threats at that stage. So, the first round of the blockade lasted for one-and-a-half to two months, and the legal attacks started again a few weeks after that. We could continue quite a long time in Sweden, mainly because we had very broad public support — even from forces that normally don’t support unions or dockworkers. Artem Tidva Your direct, practical actions against Russian businesses came faster than EU sanctions and arguably pushed governments to act. How do you see that? Erik Helgeson We’re a relatively small union, organizing about a thousand workers across Swedish ports. We have, through experience, learned how to handle disputes — and in Sweden, dockworkers always had a high level of conflict awareness. But we also know that what we can contribute internationally isn’t so much about the economic impact as force of example. So, I think there’s no doubt that what we did in 2022 pushed public opinion and thereby pushed the Swedish government. At some point we heard “Oh, we don’t want to do anything unilaterally. We want to wait for the EU.” But every government in Europe was saying that, and no one wanted to be the first one to quit trading with large or profitable markets. So the fact that initiatives emerged in Sweden — and there were also spontaneous actions elsewhere, like the Netherlands — gave us a platform to say “you’re doing too little, too slowly.” We publicly called that out. In that sense, we clearly shifted the debate in Sweden and may have contributed, in a very small way, to the broader European discussion. That’s also how we see our more recent blockade against Israeli military trade. We’re fully aware that we won’t physically stop large volumes of cargo. But by trying, we put a spotlight on deeply immoral trade that many people in Sweden simply don’t know about. There’s a widespread belief that the Swedish arms industry only trades with “responsible” countries — or, at least, that Swedish weapons aren’t used in active wars. For many people, our actions were eye‑opening. Even when we face heavy criticism in the media or legal attacks, we still raise public awareness. "Sweden is buying large amounts of Israeli military systems and paying hundreds of millions of euros in order to finance Israel’s wars." Personally, the blockade against Israeli military trade challenged my own assumptions. I initially thought Sweden was mainly exporting weapons to Israel. In reality, it’s often the opposite: Sweden is buying large amounts of Israeli military systems and paying hundreds of millions of euros in order to finance Israel’s wars. So even if we’re not powerful enough to stop violence on the ground, taking some small amount of risk still matters. In difficult situations, that’s sometimes the only contribution you can make — otherwise they get away with doing whatever they like all the time. Artem Tidva This was very important for us. When we shared information about your actions and other solidarity initiatives with our comrades in Ukraine’s transport sector, they were deeply impressed. It really mattered that there are people abroad who genuinely support Ukraine’s right to self‑determination. Russian propaganda constantly claims that it is not Russia, but Ukraine that is isolated, that we are merely a Western proxy, and that Western countries don’t truly care about the brutal Russian invasion. Against that narrative, practical solidarity and real cooperation with comrades around the world is extremely powerful. You might know that after the Russian missile strike on the Okhmatdyt children’s hospital in Kyiv, investigations showed that some European‑made components were present in the missile. Russian opposition journalists have also reported that Russian tanks are still using European optics and radio electronics. How is this possible, and how can it be stopped? Erik Helgeson I don’t have the technical expertise to go into details. What I can say is that there was extensive trade between EU countries and Russia for a very long time. It’s unclear how much of what we see today comes from military equipment purchased before the sanctions, and how much is being smuggled in now. I also don’t have detailed knowledge of how the so‑called shadow fleet currently operates. What we dealt with during the blockade was much more basic. For months, we focused on stopping very concrete, everyday trade flows. We refused to handle cargo that was clearly destined for Russia, even when it involved relatively low‑value goods. We turned away shipments of pig iron, and even ships carrying bananas, when we knew they were heading to St Petersburg after leaving Sweden. By consistently increasing pressure and identifying cargo wherever we could, many Swedish companies eventually withdrew from the Russian market. They might have done so anyway, but our actions clearly accelerated their decisions — companies did not want ongoing disruptions to their supply chains. Artem Tidva How do you think such sanctions and economic pressure instruments can affect weapons supplies in the long term — by increasing costs to the point where continuing the war becomes unbearable for people like Vladimir Putin and pushing them toward dialogue rather than war? Erik Helgeson Without pressure from below, trade unions that are unwilling to act will always argue that sanctions are pointless — that goods will get through anyway, that the shadow fleet exists, and so nothing really changes. But what you can do is hunt down these supply chains and try to disrupt them. Even when you don’t fully succeed, you still create risk and uncertainty. That alone raises costs. Increasing the cost of trade may not stop everything immediately, but in the long term it discourages companies from staying in these markets because the risks become too high. The shadow fleet clearly is a huge problem. But the fact that Russia has to operate clandestinely, hide ownership, and cover its tracks means that it pays far more for weapons and components than it would under normal conditions. "We know we cannot single‑handedly stop the Israel Defense Forces from obtaining weapons used to destroy neighborhoods or kill civilians. But by applying sustained pressure, we increase costs over time." Russia will still obtain some components — even after years of war — but it will come at a significantly higher price, and that inevitably affects the economy. This is the same logic we apply to Israeli military exports. We know we cannot single‑handedly stop the Israel Defense Forces from obtaining weapons used to destroy neighborhoods or kill civilians. But by applying sustained pressure, we increase costs over time. Historically, that’s what broke apartheid South Africa, and it’s what has weakened many regimes engaged in military aggression. It’s not the immediate absence of ammunition that changes outcomes, but the long‑term economic cost of acquiring it. If you focus too much on achieving perfect results immediately, intercepting every particular cargo, you risk becoming disappointed and giving up altogether. A long‑term perspective is essential. Artem Tidva Such efforts to disrupt the economic capacity of occupation regimes also help investigators and institutions fighting the shadow fleet. Without such pressure, a few additional clandestine ships would pass unnoticed, and dictators would feel no resistance at all. When trade flows normally, it becomes easy to normalize the destruction inflicted on their own populations and neighboring countries. Instead, we often see the opposite effect: it is more difficult for me to buy Italian ceramic tiles in Kyiv and impossible to buy a Korean LG washing machine, while people in St Petersburg do not have such problems. I cannot fly from Kyiv to Turkey or Georgia, but Russians can fly from Moscow to Istanbul or Tbilisi and then to EU countries, for example. Sometimes it seems that we are living under sanctions restrictions, even though it is not Ukraine, but Russia that is at fault for this. There was a time when the markets considered cooperation with Ukraine risky, while working with Russia had no moral consequences. People very quickly sense this hypocrisy. Nevertheless, we need realistic and achievable goals to stay motivated. What motivates you? Erik Helgeson As a trade union, we know we cannot directly stop Russian oligarchs from buying Italian tiles. But if those tiles suddenly cost ten times more because access to markets is limited, that will eventually impact the economy — and the economy is what sustains the war. That’s our perspective, speaking from the privileged position where we are not being bombed every day. It’s not perfect, but it’s a way of thinking that motivates us to continue. Applying sustained pressure, even when results are gradual, is still meaningful, and it’s how we keep going. "If you focus too much on achieving perfect results immediately, intercepting every particular cargo, you risk becoming disappointed and giving up altogether. A long‑term perspective is essential." Artem Tidva You mentioned that you later refused to handle trade linked to Israel, not only weapons shipments, and that this market functions in both directions. How did the Swedish authorities react to your action against trade with Israel, and why did you decide to continue despite the consequences? Erik Helgeson I think the current government has been extremely reluctant to take any concrete steps to regulate trade with Israel, regardless of the situation. Officials may express concern about particular atrocities or civilian casualties, even during ceasefires, but those statements don’t translate into action. In that sense, our blockade was largely symbolic — and it came at a real cost. I was fired and am now fighting that dismissal in court. At the same time, there are ongoing attempts to weaken the union and limit its ability to carry out its core work: defending members and protecting their working conditions. There’s not much we could have realistically done differently. For me personally, it became a moral question. If the choice is between losing my job or remaining passive while children are being killed with impunity, I’d still make the same decision. These are the times we’re living in. If we aren’t willing to take risks — sometimes on a very personal level — we won’t achieve anything meaningful. Artem Tidva How do you think Ukrainian and global left-wingers and trade unionists can support you — both in your personal struggle and in defending workers in your union, but also more broadly, in pushing for stronger, more effective sanctions against those who initiate and sustain brutal wars? Erik Helgeson Regarding my legal case and the dismissal, there are two main levels where support can make a difference. At the political and institutional level, letters of support sent to the Swedish Embassy or to the employers’ organization, Ports of Sweden, can be important — especially if they clearly condemn the dismissal and identify it as union‑busting. "If the choice is between losing my job or remaining passive while children are being killed with impunity, I’d still make the same decision." At the rank‑and‑file level, support works differently and, in many ways, more powerfully. Sharing videos, statements, or updates is incredibly effective. Simply showing that people know what’s happening matters a lot. When our members see that their actions resonate thousands of miles away, it strengthens morale in a very real and tangible way. This isn’t limited to Ukrainian trade unionists. The same applies everywhere. A short video or photo from Greek dockworkers, for example, or a message we send in return, often has more impact on the rank and file than a carefully worded letter to an embassy. Ideally, you work on both levels. More broadly, I think the trade union movement needs to clearly understand that trade union rights are built on human rights and civil liberties — you cannot separate the two. You can’t remain passive while freedoms of speech, fair trials, or basic legal protections are being dismantled and hope that trade union rights will somehow survive on their own. If no principles are treated as sacred — if everything becomes negotiable — then trade union rights are just words on paper, and easily taken away. We’ve seen this pattern repeatedly: first, rights are stripped from migrants, asylum seekers, or unpopular minorities; then, rights to protest or speak freely are curtailed; and eventually, the right to strike and organize is attacked. If unions position themselves as only concerned with wages, contracts, and workplace rules — standing on the sidelines while other rights are eroded — we will find ourselves without allies when it’s our turn. And when human rights are disregarded in general, trade union rights will not survive either. Artem Tidva Absolutely agreed. Many rights are already written into constitutions, but they only remain guaranteed if they are actively exercised. From your perspective, what are the most effective sanctions against those who start bloody wars? Erik Helgeson If we look at history, the working class has always found ways to resist war. These methods aren’t new, but they do need to be updated for today’s world. Still, the most effective way to stop wars, unjust occupations, and invasions is collective action by working class people. That’s how we do it. When workers refuse to comply — when we refuse to finance, transport, or handle cargo, weapons, or other goods that sustain war — we can have a real impact. That’s how the working class has helped stop a number of unjust wars in the past and prevented further slaughter of civilians. We have to be honest as well: we’ve also failed many times. Solidarity actions don’t always succeed. But that doesn’t mean they’re pointless. They can work — and ultimately, they have to. The world isn’t moving toward a more peaceful future right now; it’s moving toward increasing instability and danger. What you’re experiencing in Ukraine, what Palestinians are living through, and what many other people around the world already feel — these aren’t isolated situations. If working people don’t act collectively to resist war and militarism, these realities will only spread. * * *
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No, Western Marxism Wasn’t a CIA Plot ### Gabriel Rockhill’s polemic against Western Marxism seeks to condemn a set of postwar left-wing intellectuals such as Herbert Marcuse. Heavy on innuendo but light on evidence, the result is more like a show trial than a serious political indictment. * * * Gabriel Rockhill draws a sharp contrast between the supposed virtues of Soviet-inspired Marxism and the supposed failings of the New Left’s leading intellectuals, especially the Frankfurt School. But he fails to deliver a fair criticism of his subjects. (William Karel / Gamma-Rapho via Getty Images) Review of Who Paid the Pipers of Western Marxism? by Gabriel Rockhill (Monthly Review Press, 2025) “All the old crap of the thirties is coming back again — the sh-t about the ‘class line,’ the ‘role of the working class,’ the ‘trained cadres,’ the ‘vanguard party,’ and the ‘proletarian dictatorship.’ It is all back again, and in a more vulgarized form than ever.” So declared the anarcho-ecologist Murray Bookchin in his 1969 pamphlet, Listen, Marxist! Sixty plus years later, do these words ring true again? Some of the phrases remain on the margins. Yet something that spooked Bookchin is afoot in our troubled land: a return of Marxist-Leninist slogans and the eclipse of a New Left esprit. A sign of the times: A new book from a socialist publisher, Who Paid the Pipers of Western Marxism?, exemplifies and ratifies this revival. Its author, Gabriel Rockhill, draws a sharp contrast between the supposed virtues of Soviet-inspired Marxism and the supposed failings of the New Left’s leading intellectuals, notably those associated with the Frankfurt School. But he fails to deliver a fair criticism of his subjects. Rather, he resorts to innuendo and guilt by association in a bid to demolish their reputations. He might be viewed as a Marxist-Leninist in the school of Donald Trump: use any means to defame your foe. # Origins of the New Left The New Left emerged in the late 1950s as the outcome of political events and generational shifts. As the baby boomers became teenagers, civil rights and antinuclear movements roiled the national political scene. These movements took place amid a fraught global situation, with the death of Joseph Stalin in 1953, Nikita Khrushchev’s denunciation of his predecessor in 1956, and uprisings in the Soviet sphere from Berlin to Budapest. "The phrase ‘Western Marxism’ first emerged in the 1920s as an insult used by Soviet spokesmen." The workers revolted against the avowed workers’ states, only to be suppressed by Soviet troops. For older leftists who still looked to the Soviet Union as a revolutionary inspiration, these events brought a final disappointment. For younger leftists who sought guidance, if not inspiration, Soviet Marxism garnered little or no enthusiasm. These younger leftists — at least the budding intellectuals among them — cast about for a form of Marxism less rigid than the Soviet version. They studied Marx’s early writings and the first critics of Russian Marxism such as Rosa Luxemburg. They returned to (and in part invented) a Western Marxism. The phrase “Western Marxism” first emerged in the 1920s as an insult used by Soviet spokesmen who lambasted some European Marxists, accusing them of being too philosophical and too little invested in the ideas of Lenin and vanguard party–building. The term is a misleading one inasmuch as the line of demarcation does not denote geography but ideas. “Soviet Marxists” existed aplenty in the West, while dissident “Western Marxists” popped up in the Soviet Union itself. However, the term did point to real contrasts between European and Soviet-style varieties of Marxism. The Europeans mulled over the differences between the industrialized West with a large working class and an agrarian Russia with a much smaller working class and a vast peasantry. The West needed, they believed, not vanguard parties but vanguard intellectuals. The issue in the West was less how to subvert the state than how to subvert a bourgeois culture that had seduced its populations. Divergent historical experiences lay behind the divergent intellectual trajectories: on the one hand, the success of the Russian Revolution; on the other, the failure of European revolutions after World War I. As one Dutch Marxist declared in 1927: “From 1918 to the present day, every chapter of European history could be headed: _The Defeat of the Revolution_.” This experience of defeat informed Western Marxism for the next several decades. # The Frankfurt School The boomer generation took up a legacy of Western Marxism that they found to be less authoritarian and dogmatic than Soviet Marxism. The New Left intellectuals and their journals — Studies on the Left, Radical America, New Left Review, Telos — sought to rethink the Marxist tradition. In this endeavor, they rediscovered not only the writings of the young Marx, but also the scholars of the so-called Frankfurt School, who had been hewing a path between a cramped Soviet Marxism and a flaccid social democracy. "Herbert Marcuse loomed above the others because of his charisma, his embrace of the New Left, and the public notoriety of his student Angela Davis." The Frankfurt thinkers came together in that German city during the 1920s. By the mid-1930s, virtually all of them — in peril both as leftists and as Jews — had fled Germany for the United States. They worked as researchers with little public notice until the 1960s, when Herbert Marcuse in the United States and, to a lesser extent, Theodor W. Adorno and Max Horkheimer in Germany (where they had returned after the war), became celebrated as New Left philosophers. Marcuse loomed above the others because of his charisma, his embrace of the New Left, and the public notoriety of his student Angela Davis, who had also studied in Frankfurt with Adorno. She was one of the few women ever to feature on the FBI’s Ten Most Wanted Fugitive List for her supposed role in the 1970 courtroom killings that aimed to free the imprisoned Soledad Brothers. For a moment, Davis transfixed America. Fast forward almost sixty years, and where are we? The New Left blew apart, but its humanism, counterculture ethos, personal politics, and democratic instincts remain its legacy on the Left — or do they? While the Soviet Union and its domain unraveled, the Marxist left hardly enjoyed a renaissance. If anything, the reverse was true: conservatism and anti-Marxism have plowed ahead. Against this dismal backdrop, Joseph Stalin, Mao Zedong, and their Marxism-Leninism have enjoyed a resurgence. In Who Paid the Pipers of Western Marxism?, Rockhill sets out the case that the Western Marxists, mainly the Frankfurt School philosophers, were not cautious revolutionaries, but rather paid agents of American capitalism. They impugned communist countries and national liberation struggles as they lived the good life, reaping the profits from what he calls the “radical theory industry.” We are informed that subsequent volumes — this is just the first of a planned trilogy — will tackle French intellectuals and “cutting-edge” scholars with their ideas about postcolonialism, subaltern studies, and Afro-pessimism. Rockhill will argue that all these leftists have served American imperialism and abandoned a true version of Marxism. In this first volume, he attacks the Frankfurt thinkers as “members of the petty-bourgeois intelligentsia,” who spearheaded an anti-communist “imperial Marxism” from the comforts of their “capitalist-funded professorial citadel.” In his politics, Rockhill follows another recent book, Western Marxism: How it was Born, How it Died, and How it can be Reborn by the late Italian Marxist Domenico Losurdo, whose works include a defense of Stalin. Rockhill, like Losurdo, advances an unreconstructed Marxist-Leninism against what he sees as the bought Frankfurt School thinkers. # DHM What does Rockhill’s case amount to? A salute must be given: Rockhill is a diligent researcher who seizes upon the slightest scrap that might cast aspersions on the Frankfurt School, however remote the connection. To make his argument, he declares regularly that he proceeds dialectically. Indeed, he has coined an acronym, DHM (Dialectical Historical Materialism), as shorthand for a political philosophy that he boasts has a “proven record of success.” "Rockhill is a diligent researcher who seizes upon the slightest scrap that might cast aspersions on the Frankfurt School, however remote the connection." He never gets around to the proof of success, which sinks his project. For he pounds the Western Marxists with a hammer of “actually existing socialism” that they ignored or criticized. “Actually existing socialism” refers to the past Soviet Union, its allies, China today, national liberation struggles, and numerous revolutionaries, mainly familiar eminences such as Vladimir Lenin, Mao, and Che Guevara. He never mentions North Korea, but why not? Although the book opens with the capture and killing of Che Guevara, Rockhill does not expend a sentence on telling us how or why Mao or Che speak to a Western left today. What Maoism, a program of peasant insurgency, meant in urban New York or London was always a mystery, even while Mao was alive, but Rockhill cannot be bothered to explain it. With his hammer he mounts posters of glorious communism that the Western Marxists depreciated. Rockhill will not expound on the achievements of “actually existing socialism,” he admits, because it would require additional volumes. He refers us instead to a list of twenty experts. Unlike the “unresearched and superficial accounts of Western critical theorists,” the works of these brilliant comrades offer “rigorous material histories” of existing socialism. One example I plucked from his list is that of Cheng Enfu, president of an Academy of Marxism in China. A recent pronouncement of Professor Cheng runs as follows: “Russia’s special military action [in Ukraine] triggered by the West has led more people in the world to realize that the socialist system and policies are peaceful in nature.” You might want to call your local DHM specialist to explain this sentence. Rockhill hammers and yammers away. It turns out that Professor Herbert Marcuse was not the same as the black revolutionary George Jackson. Rockhill pursues this “revealing” comparison, although he admits it is “far from perfect.” Unlike Marcuse, who was interviewed, feted, and died at the age of eighty-one, Jackson was killed in a prison break at the age of thirty, which apparently means that Marcuse was a sellout. Rockhill himself is still alive as a fifty-four-year-old tenured professor, which apparently also means he has sold out. # Silent Dogs Rockhill is a master of guilt by association, guilt by geography, or guilt by anything at all. Sherlock Holmes’s “the dog that did not bark” becomes Rockhill’s dog that never barks, a fact that confirms guilt everywhere. He claims that after the war, Adorno and Horkheimer, having returned to Frankfurt, worked with scholars who had Nazi pasts, but that is not enough for his indictment. "Rockhill is a master of guilt by association, guilt by geography, or guilt by anything at all." In 1952, according to Rockhill, a former SS officer revealed he was serving in a secret Fascist army, in Frankfurt no less. At this point, sleuth Rockhill springs into action, drawing the link with Adorno and Horkheimer. “I am unaware,” declares our intrepid detective, “of any public statement that the Frankfurt critical theorists made about these revelations regarding a Nazi militia in their hometown.” What could be more damning? They must have supported the secret Fascist army. But anyone can play this game. Rockhill teaches at Villanova University, a Catholic institution in suburban Philadelphia. The Catholic diocese of Camden, which includes suburban Philadelphia, recently paid millions to settle sexual abuse cases. I am unaware of any public statement that our fearless investigator made about these abuses in his hometown. What could be more damning? He must support the Church’s sexual malpractices. The non-barking dog only confirms Rockhill’s larger argument that the Frankfurt School thinkers were at best agents of American imperialism or at worst “objectively” Nazis. The bulk of the book details the interlocking network of governments, foundations, and the “radical theory industry” of the Western Marxists. Much of this is not news, but Rockhill pursues it with manic energy. Did you know that in 1959 Marcuse received a grant of $6,250 from the Rockefeller Foundation, half his Brandeis salary, to complete his book One-Dimensional Man? Rockhill discovers this fact deep in the Rockefeller archives, although he could have found it in the acknowledgments on page one of One-Dimensional Man. The author’s conclusion: “It is not an exaggeration to say that One-Dimensional Man was funded by the capitalist ruling class.” Or did you know that Horkheimer once took a sponsored “junket” to Hamburg? Exposed! The big bucks and fast world of the radical theory industry! Coming soon: _The Wolves of Frankfurt_ , a remake of the movie The Wolf of Wall Street. # Base and Superstructure There is a real issue here that our crack dialectician barely interrogates: How does one manage, even prosper, in a capitalist society without capitalist means? By the way, who pays Rockhill’s own salary — Third World revolutionaries? Quiz: “Fill in the blank: ______ was a textile magnate and fox hunter, member of the Manchester Royal Exchange and president of the city’s Schiller Institute. He was a raffish, high-living, heavy-drinking devotee of the good things in life: lobster salad, Chateau Margaux, pilsner beer, and expensive women.” The next sentence of this biography states: “But for forty years Friedrich Engels funded Karl Marx.” So Capital was funded by capitalists! The Frankfurt scholars were refugees from Nazism; and yes, several found employment in American government agencies during the war, mainly the OSS, the Organization of Strategic Services, where they analyzed Germany and Nazism. They had no qualms about it. Why should they? They aided a war effort against Nazism. But the OSS is considered the predecessor of the Central Intelligence Agency (CIA), which was founded after the war. Rockhill spends many pages trying to show that Marcuse was a high-level CIA agent. This is a charge that goes back to 1969 and to a Maoist grouplet, the Progressive Labor Party, that festered in an internecine demimonde where Rockhill still mentally lives. Our indefatigable gumshoe knits together various innuendos, including the suggestion that Marcuse partook of a CIA anti-Soviet spy network centered in Frankfurt. "Rockhill spends many pages trying to show that Herbert Marcuse was a high-level CIA agent." The proof? The usual absence of a barking dog. One L. L. Matthias, who made the assertion, offers as evidence the fact that Marcuse never sued Progressive Labor for libel, as if anyone in their right mind would have done that. Not enough proof? Matthias also stated his charges were “confirmed in a letter” he received from a “former CIA agent,” who now lives in Philadelphia. Case closed! After the war, Marcuse, like many of his colleagues, found positions in university programs. Rockhill cannot believe that the government and big foundations, rather than the homeless or the proletariat, funded these outfits. Unfortunately for Rockhill, one of the stalwarts of Monthly Review, the socialist press that publishes his and Losurdo’s books, followed the same trajectory as his Frankfurt School confreres. Paul Baran, a close friend of Marcuse, coauthored the classic Marxist text Monopoly Capital with Monthly Review’s Paul Sweezy (an omitted chapter of that book drew on Adorno). Baran studied in Frankfurt, became a refugee, joined the OSS, held government jobs, and became a tenured professor at Stanford. He even worked on Wall Street as an adviser to capitalists. To make use of Rockville’s patented DHM, Stanford University, founded by exploitative railroad magnate Leland Stanford, paid Baran’s salary. It is not an exaggeration to say that Baran’s books were funded by the capitalist class. # Science Fiction The larger discovery that Rockhill trumpets is not exactly news: some of the money that supported these scholars came from an anti-Soviet Cold War effort. Much of this story has been told years ago by Frances Stonor Saunders in her book The CIA and the Cultural Cold War. Rockhill borrows his title from the British edition of that book, Who Paid the Piper? "Had the Frankfurt scholars fled to the ‘really existing socialism’ of the Soviet Union and not the United States, they would have ceased to really exist in Soviet camps." There are real issues here about the extent to which intellectuals knew they were being funded by the CIA, cooperated with it, and curbed their criticism of the United States. But Rockhill is not interested in such subjects; he likes to keep things simple. “At the end of the day,” he insists, bourgeois democracy and fascism are two forms of capitalism. Support the former, you support the latter. The only real distinction is between capitalism and communism. In reality, putting aside labels, both systems came (and still come) in many varieties. Had the Frankfurt scholars fled to the “really existing socialism” of the Soviet Union and not the United States, they would have ceased to really exist in Soviet camps. That fact warmed them to the Western democracies. Yes, they worked for the “national security state” that practiced segregation, as Rockhill continually points out, but what were the options? A Soviet prison? He reminds us often that the Soviet Union made the greatest contribution to the defeat of Nazi Germany, as if that answers everything, but he seems unaware of its history. He quotes incredulously Horkheimer’s statement from the 1930s that the Soviet communists and Nazis might strike an alliance. The Molotov–Ribbentrop Pact between the Soviets and the Nazis did indeed follow in 1939, with its secret protocol agreeing to divide up Poland and the Baltic states. Not only that, but the Soviet Union also delivered hundreds of refugees, including Jews and Communists, into the custody of the Nazis while the pact was in force. Rockhill is an indefatigable researcher; he operates in several languages; and he is all over YouTube with bold pronouncements. He hawks DHM as the universal cure-all: dialectical, proven, scientific. But in his hands, it is less dialectical, proven, or scientific than science fiction. With élan, he washes away all the well-documented crimes of Soviet and Chinese communism. In recent decades the Left can point to precious few victories, but the way to advance is not to follow Rockhill. He offers, to alter the title of a Lenin pamphlet, no steps forward and ten steps back. A graying New Left/Western Marxism still holds more promise than Mao or Stalin 2.0. * * *
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Zohran Mamdani and the Left Made Kathy Hochul Tax the Rich ### In New York City, a tax on superexpensive second homes is a victory for Zohran Mamdani and the socialist movement and should mark the beginning of a larger project of redistribution. * * * Gov. Kathy Hochul insisted she would never tax the rich. After months of pressure from the socialist movement and Zohran Mamdani, she is now making the first steps toward doing exactly that. (Adam Gray / Bloomberg via Getty Images) This week, democratic socialist New York City Mayor Zohran Mamdani announced, with Governor Kathy Hochul, that New York would impose a pied-à-terre tax. While the playful French phrase implies a small dwelling, it’s a misnomer in this case, since the tax only applies to houses, condominiums, and apartments valued at more than $5 million and owned by people whose primary residence is outside of New York City. The announcement is a real victory for the socialist left and would never have happened without its tireless organizing to elect Mamdani, nor would it have happened without the campaign to “tax the rich,” which has continued since he’s been in office, as New Yorkers have rallied, lobbied, and relentlessly dogged the governor at public events. At the same time, the socialist movement is rightly viewing the new tax as a beginning rather than an end of a longer project of redistributing the city’s staggeringly unequal wealth and of building a New York where everyone can thrive. “The governor understands that there is an organized base and an organized majority in New York City that wants to make millionaires and corporations pay what they owe,” said Gustavo Gordillo of NYC-DSA in an interview with _Jacobin_ this week. The move makes political sense for both Mamdani and Hochul. Taxing the rich is a broadly popular policy, and few sympathize with bloated plutocrats who hoard real estate but don’t even live in NYC. In Mamdani’s remarks on the new policy, he called out hedge fund billionaire Ken Griffin’s $238 million townhouse and emphasized the importance of taxing “the ultrawealthy and global elites” to make the city more affordable for the “working New Yorkers being priced out.” Even Kathy Hochul, a millionaire whose base is other millionaires and billionaires, knows that the governor of New York doesn’t need to curry favor with Russian oligarchs — or Ken Griffin. They have not disclosed the rate of taxation, but Hochul and Mamdani said this week that the tax will raise half a billion dollars in revenue. Fiscal Policy Institute acting executive director and chief economist Emily Eisner said she found the half a billion number plausible, noting that the city already has well-developed mechanisms for tax collection and home value assessment. Eisner called the pied-à-terre tax “a significant material gain for the city” and a solid example of progressive taxation. The rich themselves have reacted with predictable derangement. In a post on X, former Twitter CEO Linda Yaccarino called Mamdani’s video announcing the tax “actually the scariest thing I have seen,” and uttered gravely, “it won’t stop there.” Let’s hope she’s right. This tax is a long way from the sweeping income and corporate taxes that the Left has been demanding and that the city will need. “This is a first step,” said Gordillo, “but it’s ultimately just 10 percent of the budget gap we need to fill.” “The main thing that is happening, argues Charlie Heller, a socialist political consultant and the creator of the DREAM campaign — which began last year as Don’t Rank Eric Adams, evolved into an anti-Cuomo PAC, and now focuses on taxing the rich — “is that [Donald] Trump has basically stolen $12 billion from New York state” through his tax cuts on the wealthy last year. “Instead of just taxing that money back to prevent massive cuts to health insurance, libraries, and food assistance,” Heller says, Governor Hochul is just keeping them in place. “It’s like they’re the Trump-Hochul tax cuts,” he emphasizes. Hochul, with all her rhetoric about standing up to Trump — and to her credit, she has defeated the president on his opposition to congestion pricing — could easily frame an increase in income taxes on the ultrawealthy as a simple and needed corrective to Trump’s tax cuts, one that would preserve needed services and avert mass suffering. The rich would not be particularly inconvenienced nor, contrary to misinformation constantly peddled by both Trump and the governor, leave the city; they were after all, in residence and thriving before Trump gave them this massive windfall. "It’s not too late to tax the rich more this year." Instead, New York Focus reports that Hochul has reportedly been pressuring the mayor to make cuts to crucial city programs — including housing vouchers for low-income New Yorkers, reducing class sizes in public schools as mandated by law, and providing private school tuition to some students with disabilities — in exchange for help from the state. The state, in much healthier fiscal shape than the city, is in a good position to provide such help. Eisner says that this year the state can afford to fund the city’s needs even without taxing the rich more. But troublingly, there does not seem to be a plan to do so, especially when it comes to the shortfalls in public health insurance or food stamps. Eisner underscored that the state would need to tax the rich in the near future to keep city programs going in the longer run, from new programs the mayor campaigned on like universal childcare to existing needs like libraries. She says next year is when the impact of Trump’s cuts will be felt the most. At that point, taxing the rich will be needed even more. All this organizing on taxing the rich, even if it doesn’t yield much more this year, might lay a foundation for something bigger in 2027. “It’s not hard to imagine that next year they could make some pretty significant revenue proposals,” she says. But it’s not too late to tax the rich more this year. Budget negotiations in Albany are not over; at present lawmakers are mired in discussion on climate policy, which Hochul wants to ignore, and car insurance, her favorite topic. So there’s a long way to go before settling big questions of revenue. Gordillo and Eisner agree that a “pass-through entity” tax, which primarily affects hedge funds and certain kinds of large law firms, might be next. That could allow the governor to raise more money without losing face; while she had vowed not to tax the rich, hedge funds, like foreigners who use the city as a place to hoard wealth, are unlikely objects of popular sympathy. The Left will continue to demand more redistribution and revenue — income and corporate taxes. Hochul continues to insist she won’t do any of that. On the other hand, she also said that she absolutely would not tax the rich, and that anyone demanding she do it was actually cementing her resolve _not_ to. That turned out to be false. “You know, we were told for months that this was impossible, a quixotic campaign, that we were stupid,” Gordillo says. The socialist movement has “proven these establishment politicos wrong again.” * * *
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<cite>Outcome</cite> Is Jonah Hill’s Inept Hollywood Satire ### Jonah Hill’s new Apple TV Hollywood satire, Outcome, wants to skewer celebrity culture. But even with the likable Keanu Reeves, its muddled script and self‑pitying subtext reveal more about the industry’s narcissism than the film ever intended. * * * Outcome is Jonah Hill’s big statement on cancel culture. But even with the uncancellable Keanu Reeves, it’s a narcissistic satire that misses its mark. (Apple TV) Keanu Reeves is reliably charming in _Outcome_ , a new Apple TV comedy-drama about a beloved movie star, Reef Hawk, who’s making a comeback after several years of secret heroin addiction and a long rehab process. He finds out he’s being blackmailed with a mysterious video that will supposedly wreck his career when it’s released on the internet, and he sets out to meet the people he’s wronged to see if he can figure out who the blackmailer is. But Reeves’s sweet, laid-back amiability isn’t enough to make this satirical inside-Hollywood tale of redemption work. It’s all been done far better in other movies. Central to the problem is Jonah Hill, who cowrote the underwhelming script with Ezra Woods. He also directs and gives himself far too much screen time as Hawk’s obnoxious crisis lawyer, Ira Slitz. It’s supposed to be one of those hilarious portraits of the crass Hollywood monsters who often make it to the top — Tom Cruise’s brilliant Les Grossman portrayal in _Tropic Thunder_ set the gold standard — but Ira Stilz is a braying weirdo who’s merely tiresome, never funny. One of his questionable jokes, yelled out while he’s standing in front of a wall-sized portrait of one of his supposed clients, Kanye West, is about how the only demographic it’s acceptable to hate in the United States now is Jews. Which is news to me. This not-too-veiled reference to a global uptick in antisemitism, which is always tied by the US media to rising criticism of Israel’s genocidal war on Palestinians and similarly merciless war on Lebanon, is typical of the Hill and Woods script. It takes a scattershot approach to subjects that are complex and serious if you stop to consider them for more than a minute, which it never does. _Outcome_ also features Cameron Diaz and Matt Bomer as Reef’s best friends from his school days who’ve been with him through thick and thin. And there are cameo performances by Susan Lucci, Martin Scorsese, David Spade, Laverne Cox, Kaia Jordan Gerber, Drew Barrymore, and Van Jones as himself. No doubt, everybody tries, but there’s not much to work with. Lucci has a colorful scene as Reef Hawk’s mother Dinah, a TV reality show star who insists she and Reef have their heartfelt talk on camera for her show, because, as she puts it, they’re both “truffle piggies for fame.” And Scorsese does a creditable job as Reef’s first agent, a small-timer who represents talented kids and runs a bowling alley on the side. He guided Reef’s career as far as an appearance on the Johnny Carson show as a singing, tap-dancing kid full of showbiz moxie. This appearance sets Reef on the path to fame and fortune, after which he drops his old manager like a hot brick and never calls him again. In short, Reef’s life has been ruled by narcissistic selfishness. As Reef’s long-suffering ex-girlfriend (Welker White) tells him, “You’re not a good person.” It’s odd, the film’s insistence that Reef has no idea what he could possibly have done that would destroy his reputation as the nicest star, though it’s a necessary part of the premise if he’s going to have to go interview family members, significant others, friends, and colleagues to find out who hates him enough to blackmail him. Reef’s preoccupation through this ordeal is repeatedly checking social media and googling his own name to find out whether he’s still popular or if he’s now reviled because the video — with its content still unknown — has been posted. It’s basic to the film’s take that everything in the entertainment industry has changed because of the internet and, presumably, cancel culture. Reef’s lawyer has to explain to him that now nobody is safe, even Reef Hawk, who’s always “been so careful” about not being filmed or photographed while committing transgressions. "It’s quite a cynical move casting Keanu Reeves, the king of likability who’s so inclined to avoid offending anyone." There’s no ignoring the film’s relationship to Jonah Hill’s own 2023 mini-scandal that supposedly threatened to cancel his career, because he’s constantly referring to it in interviews promoting _Outcome_. It seems Hill’s ex-girlfriend, surfer Sarah Brady, accused him of manipulative behavior. She released screenshots of unverified texts from Hill that used therapy terms in insisting on “boundaries” crucial to him. They amounted to policing her behavior, with stipulations such as no “surfing with men,” no posting pictures “in a bathing suit,” and no “modeling” or “friendships with women who are in unstable places from your wild recent past beyond getting lunch of a coffee or something respectful.”’ Without commenting on the alleged texts, Hill withdrew from the public eye, got married, and had children. _Outcome_ is his first project since. The catalyst for _Outcome_ , Hill says, is this: “When all this cancel culture stuff was happening, I thought, ‘Who’s the person that people would be the most bummed about getting canceled?’ It would be Keanu Reeves.” It’s quite a cynical move, actually, casting Keanu Reeves, the king of likability who’s so inclined to avoid offending anyone; there are dozens of endearing photos of him mutually embracing famous women in which he’s got both hands held open wide away from any bodily contact so as not to risk the slightest possibility of touching anyone inappropriately. The effect of Reeves on the character is to make the viewer sure Reef Hawk couldn’t have done anything _that_ bad. That is, unless you know about the sins of omission, which Hawk has racked up all his life as he neglects his friends and loved ones and forgets to be grateful to anybody because he’s so self-centered. Reef is no racist spewing slurs like Mel Gibson, and he’s no sexual predator like Kevin Spacey. The movie pulls every possible punch when it finally comes to what’s actually revealed about Reef Hawk. In interviews, Hill discusses at length how he understands Reef Hawk’s plight because he himself is a victim of paranoia-inducing internet attacks: “To me, the whole movie’s an allegory for social media,” said Hill, which just goes to show he doesn’t know what “allegory” means. The movie’s plot literally deals with the pernicious way social media dominates people’s lives today, especially the lives of those poor defenseless movie stars. If you’re seeking funnier entertainment than this movie offers, try reading the Jonah Hill interview in which he puts on full display his aching self-pity and vast sense of grievance. It’s so overwhelming, ever since people were mean to him on social media, he’s convinced his tragedy is now the universal contemporary experience. His interlocutor, Martin Scorsese, keeps trying to point out that the fraught nature of movie celebrity has always been this way, even if certain aspects of it are intensified by technology. Basically, it’s still “the nature of building up a god and goddess and then wanting to tear them down,” says Scorsese. Hill responds lugubriously, “But the truth is, modern entertainment is pretty much just tearing someone down.” And I admit I’m happy to contribute to the tearing down of Jonah Hill by saying his movie _Outcome_ stinks and you should skip it altogether. * * *
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The Hollow Crown of ChatGPT’s Head Honcho ### Sam Altman may be the reigning king of the AI boom, but the story that matters isn’t his rise or fall. The sector will still demand scale, speed, and the right to run roughshod over the pesky public interest, no matter who wears the industry crown. * * * There is some debate as to what extent Sam Altman and OpenAI were ever truly devoted to the vision of a democratized AI utopia. (Anna Moneymaker / Getty Images) Last week in the _New Yorker_ , Ronan Farrow and Andrew Marantz profiled OpenAI chief Sam Altman. The piece opens with the company’s chief scientist, Ilya Sutskever, doubting that Altman is the man to have his “finger on the button” of an artificial intelligence more intelligent than human beings. What follows is the story of Altman’s fall, return, and future, including the details of the key players involved and capital at stake. The profile offers a comprehensive history of the moment, including the anxieties that attend the rise of OpenAI and what that means for us as we sort out what to do about — and with — artificial intelligence. With AI, the stakes are high for everyone, and the story at hand is both new and familiar. As Farrow and Marantz write: > OpenAI has since become one of the most valuable companies in the world. It is reportedly preparing for an initial public offering at a potential valuation of a trillion dollars. Altman is driving the construction of a staggering amount of AI infrastructure, some of it concentrated within foreign autocracies. OpenAI is securing sweeping government contracts, setting standards for how AI is used in immigration enforcement, domestic surveillance, and autonomous weaponry in war zones. # AI: A One-Stop Shop, but for What? Altman and others have sold AI as _the solution_. To what? To whatever. To everything. If you’ve got a problem, AI will solve it. Farrow and Marantz quote Altman’s own writing, offering AI as a wonder capable of “astounding triumphs” that include “fixing the climate, establishing a space colony, and the discovery of all of physics.” It’s a tall order. Still, it serves as a reminder that artificial intelligence technology — however overblown — holds a great deal of promise. It also presents peril that has nothing to do with the threat of the rise of Skynet. Workers risk losing power, both political and economic. It’s not obvious that any state has a plan for what comes after a double-digit percentage of the workforce is turfed by AI. Farrow and Marantz’s profile of Altman is remarkable for its depth and humanity. It does what a good profile should: offers details and a narrative, assesses its subject without either drinking the Kool-Aid or setting out to do a hatchet job for its own sake. The top-line takeaway is that Altman’s tenure at the company is controversial to say the least. This controversy reflects not only battles over his character as a human and leader but also competing visions for what AI is for. It raises the question of how far we should allow a company to take its development without sufficient guardrails — in other words, regulations. Bristling at regulations is a classic tech industry tale — think, for instance, of Uber. Businesses in general tend to resent regulation, which is to say constraint, except in the limited circumstances in which it serves as an advantage for established firms that are looking to set up barriers to entry for would-be competitors. Even in cases where a company begins with ostensibly altruistic aims, working for the “good” of humanity, as OpenAI did in its initial incarnation as a nonprofit, market logic tends to assert itself. The profile notes that there is some debate as to whether or to what extent Altman and OpenAI were ever truly devoted to the rosier vision of a democratized AI utopia. In the end, that concern is beside the point. # Enter: The Pickle Barrel In moral philosophy, there’s an analogy that helps to explain how good people go bad: the process is the same by which a cucumber becomes a pickle. The cucumber goes into the barrel of brine and, over time, it gets pickled. Once in the barrel, there’s not much the cucumber can do about it. The trick is to stay out of the pickle barrel in the first place. Humans, unlike cucumbers, have agency. They can choose to go into the barrel or not, or at least in theory, to leave it. But that’s easier said than done — especially if you become, to mix metaphors a bit, a true believer in the process. And what happens if everyone keeps jumping into the barrel? The development of AI is heavily capitalized and privatized with investments pushing well over a trillion dollars and counting. That’s a big, expensive pickle barrel. Those who invest in AI aren’t doing it for fun or sport or charity but to generate returns and transform the economy through tools and processes that will, you guessed it, produce or enhance profits. AI endeavor may have its star players, but as an undertaking, it is a team effort driven by an established logic of profit maximization and economic transformation — which means displacing workers with machines. To speak of AI in this context as anything else — as a democratizing tool or assistant or research and exploration force multiplier — is to miss the point. These outcomes will be side effects of the process. The scale of financial backing behind AI, and the concentration of development in a handful of extremely well-capitalized companies, ensures that much. Altman’s story is interesting in and of itself insofar as it offers a dramatic look inside a high-stakes, high-profile world. It reads a bit like _Succession_ and a bit like _King_ _Lear_ — or maybe _Hamlet_ or _Macbeth_. But readers shouldn’t mistake the struggle surrounding Altman’s place, tenure, and approach for the definitive battle over the direction of AI. Swap Altman for almost anyone else and the fine details of the AI story might change, but it’s unlikely that the narrative arc would. Everyone is in this pickle barrel together. Absent a structural change driven by the state, or rather, a multilateral effort by several leading states around the world, the development of AI will be reckless and bad for workers and consumers alike. Rather than democratizing economic life and political power, the path of financialized AI will drive further class inequality. Count on it. # The Future of AI Isn’t Written Yet However deterministic the development of AI may be under the current paradigm, we ought not to take this state of affairs as inevitable. To say that AI will be predominantly used as a tool for economic dominance so long as it’s developed by an unaccountable cabal isn’t to say it _must_ be so. It’s not as if all this was preordained at or around the time of the Big Bang. Rather, all things being equal, a specific kind of paradigm will tend to yield specific kinds of results. If we want different results, we must insist on a different paradigm. And if we want a different paradigm, we’re going to have to build it ourselves. We can’t leave that work to Silicon Valley. In the case of AI, an alternative model entails not just state regulation but democratized decision-making around the development and use of the technologies at scale. Their consequences will be structural and long-term, shaping our employment and capacity to make ends meet. They also contain the germs of possibility — the long-shot prospect of facilitating a productive and inclusive economy and democratic political sphere based on moral equality and some measure of material justice. As AI’s effects pervade more and more of our lives and workplaces, anger is bound to come to the fore. Over the weekend, Altman’s home in San Francisco was attacked with an incendiary device. Channeling popular rage into what anarchists once called “propaganda of the deed,” his would-be attacker becomes a dark mirror of the tech titan he abhors. But neither high-handed executives nor Luddite avengers will fix this. What’s needed is mass politics and public decision-making. AI concerns all of us. Its future must be determined by us, under the aegis of the state, not by a handful of tech executives in California. * * *
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What Viktor Orbán’s Downfall Hasn’t Settled ### In Hungary’s election, Péter Magyar rallied urban white-collar workers, business figures excluded from state patronage networks, intellectuals, and youth. It’s much less clear that his new government can satisfy all these groups’ expectations. * * * Now entering government, it’s unclear how Péter Magyar’s Tisza can revive the economy. The Left remains weak, and Viktor Orbán’s party may again posture as the voice of working-class frustration. (Sean Gallup / Getty Images) Péter Magyar’s Tisza party has won a two-thirds supermajority in Hungary’s 199-seat parliament, built on nearly 80 percent turnout, the highest since the fall of state socialism. With some expatriate ballots still being counted, Tisza holds 140 seats to Fidesz’s 53, marking the end of Viktor Orbán’s self-styled “illiberal” rule. Some analysts now suggest that Orbán’s government cannot have been truly authoritarian if it could be voted out this cleanly. That misses the point. What enabled change was not the mildness of his rule but a rare convergence of pressures: geopolitical isolation, economic malaise, moral crisis, and a disciplined challenger who mobilized previously passive citizens while sweeping aside other, discredited opposition forces. But the deeper question is what exactly this result has broken. This was not the defeat of a government that had simply outstayed its welcome. It was the breakdown of a political settlement that had seemed, until recently, both electorally durable and socially entrenched. What broke on April 12 was Orbánism’s capacity to organize consent: across classes, across regions, and above all across generations. # Why Orbánism Had Lasted There were clear signs of a struggle over what Antonio Gramsci called _moral leadership_. Former insiders, from the police, the military, and the state-adjacent expert world, stepped forward in the last weeks of the campaign to describe how public institutions were bent to party-political ends, how opponents were targeted, and how public service decayed under state capture. Magyar turned this into more than just a ”corruption” narrative. He cast the regime’s functionaries not only as self-serving, but as the custodians of a morally exhausted order. That mattered because Fidesz did not rule by patronage and coercion alone, even though it relied on both increasingly. It also ruled by presenting itself as the guarantor of seriousness, order, family, work, and national protection. The discourse of the “work-based society” dignified the productive family and the disciplined worker while stigmatizing the undeserving poor, a category that disproportionately mapped onto Roma communities. Rural heartlands and their peasant traditions were celebrated as the beating heart of the nation. The antiwar framing cast Orbán as the protector of ordinary Hungarians against reckless foreign entanglements. And the language of child protection and Christian nationhood wrapped a hard class project in moral prestige. When the Novák pardon scandal, in which President Katalin Novák pardoned an accomplice in a child abuse case, shattered that moral self-image, economic grievances that had long been contained by ideological loyalty became harder to neutralize. Those material grievances were severe. The regime’s popular foundations were stabilized throughout the 2010s by a global liquidity boom and generous EU funding, which fed both the clientelist machinery and the modest improvements that kept broad constituencies acquiescent. When those conditions changed (COVID, the energy shock following Russia’s invasion of Ukraine, and above all the freezing of roughly €20 billion in EU funds that had long lubricated both selective redistribution and local patronage), the economic base of the settlement cracked. Growth stalled and living standards deteriorated. Hungary recorded the EU’s lowest actual individual consumption per capita in 2024. Inflation, peaking above 20 percent, hit hardest those who could least afford it. The clientelist networks that had connected the state to local communities thinned as there was less to redistribute. And oligarchic enrichment, long tolerated when ordinary people felt their own position improving, became politically toxic once broad gains stopped. The result was a broad popular repudiation, not a surgical, class-based defection. Tisza won 96 of 106 districts, sweeping cities and most midsize towns. Fidesz’s surviving support was concentrated above all in rural and small-town Hungary: in relatively better-off western hinterlands where its organizational infrastructure remained robust, and in poorer northeastern peripheries marked by aging, clientelist pressure, and fear of change. "Orbánism seemed culturally incapable of speaking to anyone under forty." The split was, however, above all generational. Older rural voters who had experienced the shocks of several transitions disproportionately stayed with the status quo, often expressing fear of war and suspicion of promises of change. Younger voters moved massively against Orbánism. They had experienced his rule as systematic blockage: a government that allowed rents to rise while offering no serious housing solution; one that hollowed out public education, harshly policed even minor drug use, and attacked LGBT people. It seemed culturally incapable of speaking to anyone under forty. Fidesz had become an old party in more than demographic terms. Magyar, whatever his ideological limits, came to embody youth, movement, and possibility. # What Tisza Is, and What It Isn’t Magyar’s particular advantage was that he appeared at once as insider and rupture: someone recognizably shaped by the national-conservative world, yet newly credible as the instrument of its undoing. That dual positioning helped him detach conservative and apolitical voters who would never have crossed over to the old opposition. He built a genuine oppositional formation: an electoral vehicle capable of absorbing the entire opposition spectrum and a clever organizational model that combined hyper-centralized leadership with genuine grassroots organizing. But Tisza’s strength lies in its breadth, and breadth has costs. Magyar assembled a coalition that temporarily aligned constituencies with divergent material interests: urban white-collar workers frustrated by decaying public services, small entrepreneurs excluded from the clientelist machinery, a significant liberal intelligentsia whose primary motivation was ending Orbán’s rule, and above all younger voters for whom illiberalism was a system that defined and constrained their adult lives. What held this together was anti-corruption framing, deliberate ideological ambiguity, and the promise of regime change. What it did not require was a clear vision of what kind of society should replace the old one besides a clear indication of unmooring the country from Russian influence and reanchoring it in Europe through anti-corruption, the curtailment of the state’s overreach, the reestablishment of meritocracy as a chief value, and the pledge to adopt the euro. This path is broadly conservative-liberal but also contains key nationalist-sovereignist elements. "Magyar pledged to keep Fidesz’s pronatalist family subsidies, the border wall, and strict immigration controls, which constitute some of the landmark policies of the illiberal settlement." This is visible in Tisza’s program. Magyar pledged to keep Fidesz’s pronatalist family subsidies, the border wall, and strict immigration controls, which constitute some of the landmark policies of the illiberal settlement. His offer to those excluded was real but modest: a lower tax rate for minimum-wage earners, a doubling of the universal family allowance (_családi pótlék_) — a modest monthly cash benefit paid per child regardless of income or employment — frozen since 2008, and value-added tax (VAT) relief on essential medicines. His manifesto pledged public housing and a state fund for housing renovation, a departure from Orbán’s private credit–only approach, but without concrete numbers it remains unclear how far this will go. Notably absent is any credible offer to blue-collar workers: there is no commitment to strengthening labor rights, no pledge to repeal the 2018 reform to overtime that once mobilized tens of thousands under the banner of protesting the “slave law,” and no strategy for the peripheral regions where economic opportunity remains scarce, and dependency on the state runs deep. Most fundamentally, there is no plan to restructure a dual economy in which an oversized and undertaxed foreign-dominated export sector relies on low wages and weak labor and environmental protections, while a domestic sector built on state-distributed subsidies has little incentive to innovate. The fiscal bind is real. A government inheriting depleted coffers, a budget deficit near 5 percent of GDP, and gutted public services cannot simultaneously maintain everything Fidesz built for its base and deliver what its own core supporters expect, at least not without progressive taxation, which Magyar has ruled out. Something will have to give. The question is which constituency absorbs the disappointment. # The Supermajority: Opportunity and Temptation The two-thirds majority changes the institutional picture dramatically. The constitutional architecture that Orbán erected is now formally surmountable. The constitution can be amended or even rewritten. Cardinal laws can be amended. State institutions can be restaffed. Magyar has already pledged a two-term limit for the prime minister’s job, a move that would both bind his own future power and make it impossible for Orbán to stage a return in 2030, possibly forcing the latter into the shadow role adopted by his friend, Jarosław Kaczyński, in Poland. But will Tisza use this mandate to build a genuinely plural political order, or will the supermajority reproduce the temptation of centralization in a pro-European, technocratic register? One risk is the alienation of citizens from the very process of democratic regime change. Tisza, despite its mobilizational success, is a hyper-centralized party not designed to incorporate supporters into decision-making in any meaningful way. Meanwhile, the illiberal regime has spent years hollowing out the channels through which citizens might shape political transformation. Watchdog organizations have also been weakened, and it is doubtful they will have enough leverage to restrain a Tisza government should it begin to reproduce centralizing habits of its own. Magyar, moreover, has made no pledge to reform the profoundly unjust electoral system that amplifies the winner’s advantage — a system that has now backfired against Fidesz, but remains democratically corrosive all the same. "The constitutional architecture that Orbán erected is now formally surmountable." The danger, then, is not only institutional but social. Formal power to remake the state is not the same as a social project capable of addressing the distributional contradictions the old regime left behind. Hungary has seen this dynamic before, especially since the decomposition of the Socialist Party after 2008: broad discontent, no organized left capable of shaping the terms of transition, and disappointment repeatedly reabsorbed by the right. When the Socialists won in 1994 promising to defend the losers of the transition, they turned instead to the infamous Bokros austerity package, paving the way for Fidesz’s first victory in 1998. The pattern (popular mandate, deferred distributional choices, rightward remobilization) is not a distant memory. # The Political Field Ahead The Polish comparison is instructive; not as an institutional template, since Magyar’s supermajority gives him formal powers like Poland’s center-right premier Donald Tusk never had, but as a warning about the political field that tends to emerge after an illiberal regime falls to a broad, ideologically thin, center-right coalition. In Poland, two years after Tusk returned to office, Kaczyński’s hard-right Law and Justice (PiS) camp has retained much of its social base, and its preferred candidate won last year’s presidential election. According to Ipsos exit poll data from the 2025 runoff, the PiS-backed Karol Nawrocki won 80.1 percent of farmers and 69.3 percent of workers. The liberal-conservative government, now cohabiting with President Nawrocki has not contested those constituencies; it has by and large governed without them. The Left has been subordinated within Tusk’s coalition with almost no programmatic gains. "If Magyar’s government cannot deliver on its promises while preserving what those constituencies value, the nationalist right will retain a ready-made reentry path." Could Hungary follow a similar path? The institutional constraints are clearly lesser. But Fidesz still won over 2.3 million votes. While its base has eroded, it has not fractured. Its remaining support is concentrated in the rural and small-town constituencies where the stability brought by the regime after the turbulence of the Great Recession and a deep political crisis is most tangible. If Magyar’s government cannot deliver on its promises while preserving what those constituencies value, the nationalist right will retain a ready-made reentry path. And it will not only be Fidesz waiting in the wings. The neofascist Mi Hazánk (Our Homeland), which received nearly 6 percent, will also speak to disgruntled working-class and lower-middle-class men through a fusion of anti-Roma scapegoating, vigilante law-and-order politics, and selective anti-capitalist rhetoric that casts “hard-working Hungarians” as abandoned by the state and exploited by multinational capital. A similar pattern, in which the defeat of illiberal governance coexists with a nationalist right that retains its rural and popular base, is visible in Romania and Slovakia as well. The paradox is that the collapse of Hungary’s old left, which had long occupied the political space without filling it, may open room for renewal. For the first time in sixteen years, grassroots organizing is possible without the illiberal state actively suppressing it. But the obstacles remain formidable: organizational weakness, ideological discredit, and a political field now dominated by Tisza on one side and nationalist reaction on the other. Whether a credible left emerges in time to contest the distributional choices Tisza will face, and to prevent the nationalist right from becoming the sole voice of working-class frustration, will be one of the key factors that shape whether this moment lasts. What happened on April 12 deserves to be celebrated. But it is not a happy ending. It is the beginning of a different kind of struggle. It could still go wrong in ways Hungary has seen before. But for the first time in a long while, its future story is open. * * *
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It’s Okay to Like Geese ### Geese are the most talked-about new rock band in years. But thanks to a recent Wired article, they’re now facing a backlash — accused of being privileged, reactionary, and even a “psyop.” It’s everything that’s wrong with music discourse today. * * * Geese clearly appeal to a crowd who wants music to matter again. That’s good. And not a “psyop,” as Wired claims. (Emma McIntyre / Getty Images for Coachella) Forget Bad Bunny’s halftime show and the Drake lawsuit: if social media is any indication, this year’s biggest music controversy concerns Brooklyn rock band Geese. Geese blew up last year, with their latest album Getting Killed earning rave reviews from Paste and Consequence of Sound before topping year-end best album lists by Stereogum and the New York Times. The furor recalled the days when bands getting a coveted 9.0 rating on Pitchfork felt like a musical event. Even so, enthusiasm has been tempered by an intense backlash, with online commentators now dismissing Geese as industry plants, retreads, and hacks. The frenzy became so elevated that popular music YouTuber Anthony Fantano issued a call for the haters to chill out. Most recently, a _Wired_ article with the clickbait title “The Fanfare Around the Band Geese Actually Was a Psyop” pointed to the band’s use of a media strategy firm to build online hype, feeding into the view that the entire phenomenon was fake. Unlike the old days, when dissing bands was just a way of standing out from the musical in-crowd, contemporary discourse ups the ante. Rather than just say they don’t vibe with the group, many people have tried to suggest there’s something nefarious about a quartet of privileged rich kids who flirt with reactionary rock masculinity and run schemes to rise to the top. Of course, it’s perfectly okay to dislike Geese, and it’s great to be critical of the music industry’s worst practices. But the episode reflects the flawed nature of contemporary cultural discourse — particularly the tendency to dress up vibes-based personal judgments as high-stakes political litmus tests. Given how much the conversation seems to be about pouring cold water on a rock band managing to get people excited about music’s future once again, the lesson is simple: sometimes it’s okay to just like or dislike music. # Rock’s Saviors Geese formed in 2016 while its members were still teenagers. While they had planned to dissolve after graduation, they postponed college as interest in their music began to grow. After signing a joint deal with PIAS and Partisan Records, the band released two records and started to win positive press. In 2021, Rolling Stone called the up-and-comers “indie-rock prodigies” — but they remained largely in the wheelhouse of hipsters and insiders. The band’s fortunes began to shift at the end of 2024, when singer and guitarist Cameron Winter released his solo album Heavy Metal. And they launched into overdrive the following year when the band released their fourth album, _Getting Killed_ — provoking a critical firestorm and transforming them into the most talked-about band of the year. Many rave reviews ran with headlines like “Finally, a New Idea in Rock and Roll” and “How Geese Took Flight to Become ‘Gen Z’s First Great American Band.” "The problem with becoming rock’s great hope in 2026 is that not everyone thinks it deserves one." Geese strongly appealed to nostalgia for an era when rock felt like a stronger presence in the musical zeitgeist. However weird the band is, their sound explicitly hearkens back to the past, capturing the exuberant caterwauling of the Stones, the raw power of early 1970s garage rock, and the carefully uncurated cool of 2000s indie sleaze. Given that listeners are increasingly turning toward the past, Geese’s retro appeal makes sense. There is a pervasive feeling that the 2020s have been one of the worst musical decades in nearly a century. For several years, Luminate’s Year End Music Report has chronicled a declining interest in current music. In fact, Spotify’s trendy Wrapped feature Listening Age was actually inspired by how Gen Z and Alpha listeners are more likely to listen to music from older decades than other generations. Geese clearly appeals to a crowd who wants music to matter again. Winter’s Carnegie Hall performance last December capped off the band’s big year, inspiring the kind of scene-report-style commentary that was once the hallmark of rock reporting. Commentators couldn’t help but remark on all the luminaries in the crowd, like REM’s Michael Stipe and Sonic Youth’s Lee Ranaldo, and the fact that directors Paul Thomas Anderson and Benny Safdie were both there filming earned headlines in its own right. The band’s irreverent media presence also evokes rock’s glory days, particularly Winter’s coy evasiveness during interviews. That spirit was perfectly captured by drummer Max Bassin, who exemplified an old-school punk ethos with a curt BRIT Award acceptance speech: “I just want to say, free Palestine, fuck ICE, RIP Mani, let’s go Geese.” For many, the band’s success made it clear: rock was so back. # Noise Pollution The problem with becoming rock’s great hope in 2026 is that not everyone thinks it deserves one. Geese began to attract heat as soon as they started to blow up. Plenty of people simply took issue with the band’s sound, which they found cacophonous or confusing. Others zeroed in on Winter’s eccentric singing. Many also didn’t love the euphoric headlines and savior rhetoric, either because they felt rock didn’t need saving or Geese wasn’t the band to do it. Even so, several comments implied there was something not just wrong but troubling about cheering on Geese. More than one commentator evoked the supposed white masculinity of the band (confusing, since one member of the band isn’t white, and another is a woman). The theme was expressed in a friendlier way by linking the band to the resurgence of “white boy garage music,” while less playful commentary has focused on the band’s “performative masculinity” and the “near-manosphere politics” of their fans. The band’s class background has also been a target for the haters. Geese’s members attended Brooklyn Friends School and Little Red School House, and two of their families have industry roots: Bassin’s father was a marketing executive for Alternative Distribution Alliance, and guitarist Emily Green’s dad is a sound designer who worked with John Cale. Quibbling about authenticity and backgrounds is as old as rock itself. Millennial readers will no doubt remember similar debates around the Strokes as they were heating up a quarter-century ago. But the fact is that “relatively affluent art school kid” is hardly rare when it comes to rock pedigree. David Crosby’s father worked on Wall Street before becoming an Oscar-winning cinematographer. Gram Parsons was a prep school kid and the grandson of a fruit magnate. Joe Strummer’s father was a diplomat. Radiohead itself formed at the elite Abingdon School in Oxfordshire. But recent discourse has dragged out a more vulgar kind of sociologism endemic to our era. As one Substacker wrote, the band’s popularity reflects the “domination of the privately educated” over music. Additionally, Geese “come from a boring, moneyed place and the success of their white male rock star type in this form is actually a perfect symbol for this age of Trump and Conservative success.” Geese, as it turns out, isn’t just bad — they’re Trumpy. Somehow. # A Musical Psyop But Geese detractors finally hit the motherlode this month when it came out that the band had used an online strategy firm in order to generate attention and boost engagement. Their success, which seemed to occur overnight to those not paying attention, had already provoked accusations that they were industry plants. But at the end of March, Eliza McLamb — a stellar Brooklyn musician in her own right — wrote a Substack post that threw more fuel on the fire. McLamb called attention to Chaotic Good Studios, a brand strategy firm that helped create “narrative campaigns” for companies and artists. She detailed her shock at discovering that the company had not only boosted Winter’s song-of-the-year contender “Love Takes Miles” as well as Geese’s record _Getting Killed_ but had been working with other artists she admired like Wet Leg, Jane Remover, and Dijon. Far from a hit piece, McLamb’s essay was really just a great work of industry analysis, explaining Chaotic Good’s off-putting hype machine, which involved posting relentlessly about clients from burner accounts. As the founders put it, after an artist’s team lands the coveted _Saturday Night Live_ performance, they really get to work: “the second SNL drops at midnight, you should post a hundred times saying that was the best performance of the year.” The situation looked even shadier when a day after McLamb’s essay went online, Chaotic Good pulled the names of Geese and several other clients from their site. But McLamb wasn’t writing a Geese teardown. After all, the industry has a longer, dirtier history that predates this practice, and she even admitted a service like this might advance her own career. In mid-April, _Wired_ reshared McLamb’s scoop with a sensationalist headline calling the band “a psyop.” While the article added all kinds of caveats, “maybes” and “perhapses,” the headline does all the work the internet needs. The _Wired_ essay has already attracted a series of measured responses, including an _A.V. Club_ piece that proclaimed, “Congratulations, You Discovered Digital Marketing.” But it’s too late. The discourse cycle has begun once again, with yet another weapon for online denizens who are eager to prove the band was as unlikable as they already wanted them to be. * * *
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Will More Warehouses Burn? ### A California logistics worker allegedly burned down a 1.2-million-square-foot warehouse in anger over low pay. The billionaire class may have to learn the hard way: you can only pack so much pressure into a deeply unequal system before it blows. * * * A California logistics worker texted his coworkers before allegedly burning his workplace to the ground: “All you had to do was pay us enough to live. Pay more of the value WE bring. Not corporate. Don’t see the shareholders picking up a shift.” (Jeff Gritchen / MediaNews Group / Orange County Register via Getty Images) “If you’re not going to pay us enough to fucking live, you can at least pay us enough to not do this shit,” the man says as he reaches out with a lighter and ignites a pallet of toilet paper. Minutes later, multiple pallets can be seen burning in a video taken inside the 1.2-million-square-foot Kimberly-Clark warehouse located in California’s Inland Empire. “There goes your inventory,” the man says. The warehouse quickly became a raging inferno, requiring 175 firefighters and fifteen truck companies to subdue the six-alarm fire over the next fifteen hours. Warehouse workers were safely evacuated, and no one was injured by the blaze. Police quickly arrested twenty-nine year old Chamel Abdulkarim, who they say posted several self-incriminating videos of himself lighting the fire on social media. If convicted, Abdulkarim could face up to twenty years in federal prison. He has pleaded not guilty. I’ve spent my life trying to organize workers in smart and strategic ways to build power. Burning down a warehouse is not on my list of effective working-class tactics — quite the contrary. But I doubt that this is the last time we will hear a story of one low-wage worker’s incendiary revenge, and this story in particular goes much deeper. To understand it, we need to start with Kimberly-Clark’s financial disclosures to the Securities and Exchange Commission (SEC). # The Primacy of Shareholder Value Kimberly-Clark, manufacturer of popular household products such as Kleenex, Huggies, and Scott toilet paper and paper towels, has been on the Fortune 500 every year since it was first established in 1955. It is a global company with tens of thousands of employees. And it is incredibly profitable. I reviewed Kimberly-Clark’s 10-K disclosures, annual reports on the company’s finances and operations that the SEC requires publicly traded companies to submit annually, from 2015 through 2025. Over that time, the company collectively made $21.5 billion in net income. That’s equivalent to the annual GDP of a small country. But it’s what Kimberly-Clark chose to do with those profits that is truly astonishing. Over that same period, Kimberly-Clark paid out $22.8 billion in stock buybacks and dividends — meaning the company paid out the equivalent of 106 percent of their net income to Wall Street. _Kimberly-Clark Profits and Wall Street Payouts_ Dividends are direct payouts of a company’s earnings to shareholders and have been around for a long time, since at least the founding of the East Dutch India Company in the 1600s, though the amount paid out today is often far more excessive than in the past. What _is_ relatively new is stock buybacks, where companies repurchase their own stock, which they retire, artificially inflating the value of the shares that remain. Buybacks are a surefire way for companies to quickly drive up their stock price and used to be an illegal form of stock manipulation until Ronald Reagan’s SEC changed the rules in 1982 as part of the administration’s deregulatory agenda. "Between 2009 and 2018, 465 companies in the S&P 500 spent an explosive 91 percent of their net income — $7.6 trillion — on stock buybacks and dividends." After that, it was off to the races. According to a 2020 analysis published in the _Harvard Business Review_ , between 2009 and 2018, 465 companies in the S&P 500 spent an explosive 91 percent of their net income – $7.6 trillion – on stock buybacks and dividends. Some companies, like Kimberly Clark, even take on increased debt loads to pay out more than they made. “The business of these corporations is not to produce services or products but stock buybacks. It’s legalized looting,” said Les Leopold, author of _Runaway Inequality: An Activist’s Guide to Economic Justice_. “They are doing everything they can to transfer as much money as possible from the company into their own pockets. They lay off workers, break unions, outsource and offshore jobs, suppress wages, and price gouge. Companies often take on debt just to do buybacks. This is one of the greatest sources of the extreme inequality we see today.” The change in how companies operate also came with a fundamental shift in ideology and corporate culture. Michael Hsu, the chief executive officer at Kimberly-Clark, made $48 million in total compensation over the last three years, the vast majority of which is paid in company stock, the value of which is increased through buybacks. According to the company’s own filings, it would take their average employee 275 years to make what Hsu made in 2025 alone. Investors intentionally tie the pay of executives to the value of the company’s shares, ensuring ideological alignment between Wall Street and the C-suite. “The ideology of shareholder value says that all the revenue a business generates belongs to the shareholders and nobody else,” William Lazonick, professor emeritus of economics at the University of Massachusetts and coauthor of _Predatory Value Extraction: How the Looting of the Business Corporation Became the U.S. Norm and How Sustainable Prosperity Can Be Restored_ : > Our society depends on tapping the profits of the richest companies and putting that money into social services and into wages and benefits for workers, but this now dominant ideology ensures that the people in positions of strategic control at the top of these companies are going to be committed to the broader agenda of further increasing profits by avoiding taxes, outsourcing and offshoring jobs, breaking unions, and lobbying congress for deregulation, subsidies and further tax avoidance, which in turn leads to more profits that can be funneled back to shareholders. One of the most critical decisions made in any company is how it allocates its capital — what the people who run and own it choose to do with the revenue it generates. Since the 1980s, the twin forces of financial deregulation and the corporate offensive against unions have steadily stripped workers of any meaningful say in those decisions. In their place, Wall Street has come to dominate, dictating how profits are distributed and reinvested. In contrast, democratic socialism aims to build an economy where workers have real power — through strong unions, a labor party, and other working-class institutions — and where those choices are made differently. Workplaces would be democratized, and decisions about capital allocation would no longer be governed solely by the narrow principle of maximizing shareholder return but instead would be subject to deliberation among stakeholders concerned with what is best for workers, communities, and the planet. It’s hard to look at Kimberly-Clark’s finances and not feel the same rage that Abdulkarim must have felt. He worked at a $150 million warehouse, surrounded by $500 million in products, living in California’s extraordinarily expensive Inland Empire, and he wasn’t even directly employed by Kimberly-Clark. The job of managing the warehouse was outsourced to NFI Industries, a privately owned third-party logistics company worth billions that agreed last year to pay out millions to settle a class action lawsuit over employee misclassification. The company has been described by the Teamsters as an “irresponsible, lawbreaking employer.” "‘All you had to do was pay us enough to live. Pay more of the value WE bring. Not corporate. Don’t see the shareholders picking up a shift.’" According to the US Attorney’s Office, Abdulkarim allegedly texted his thinking to coworkers after he set the fire, saying, “All you had to do was pay us enough to live. Pay more of the value WE bring. Not corporate. Don’t see the shareholders picking up a shift.” “That’s not an irrational response at all given the absence of union power,” said Lazonick. “If more workers start to realize how badly they are getting fleeced, there would be even more warehouses burned down.” # Social Arson Sparks Actual Arson More than 150 years ago, in _The_ _Condition of the Working Class in England,_ Friedrich Engels made a simple argument: when the ruling class in society knowingly places workers in conditions that shorten their lives — denies them the means to live, forces them to endure those conditions, and then treats those conditions as natural or inevitable — those conditions are “as much a death by violence as that by the sword or bullet.” Corporations like Kimberly-Clark generate billions in profits that they use to lavishly pay corporate executives, then funnel those billions into stock buybacks and dividends for Wall Street while workers in their supply chain are paid wages that don’t cover basic living costs. This particular story is being played out on a much larger scale across the economy, with disastrous results for the working class. You know the basics: Inequality has reached extremes not seen since before the Great Depression. The number of billionaires in America jumped by 50 percent from 2017 to 2025, while 60 percent of Americans live paycheck to paycheck, and tens of millions are foregoing at least one meal a day to afford health insurance. For the first time in over a hundred years, life expectancy for working-class Americans is falling, especially as deaths of despair — deaths due to overdoes, suicide, and alcohol-related disease — have risen dramatically, particularly in communities hit hardest by offshoring and mass layoffs. The ruling class is knowingly underpaying the people whose labor produces their wealth and deliberately distributing all of the value workers produce upward, wrecking lives, communities, and the environment in the process. Economies aren’t governed by the laws of nature; they are the product of human choice. Engels called the economic conditions in industrializing England that shortened workers’ lives “social murder.” Today the financialization of life and work in Corporate America might be better understood as “social arson.” "Today the financialization of life and work in Corporate America might be better understood as ‘social arson.’" Employers are saturating entire sectors of the economy with conditions that are as volatile as they are unsustainable: huge payouts for those at the top, and low wages, high rents, precarious work, and no meaningful voice on the job for everyone else. Under those conditions, it should not be surprising when something eventually ignites. None of this justifies burning down a warehouse, but it does explain it. In the early twentieth century, progressives and the labor movement offered capitalists a way out: give workers the right to organize and bargain collectively over their wages, benefits, and working conditions. They politically and legally legitimized institutions that enabled workers to claim a growing share of the value they create and a real say over the conditions of their lives. And for several decades, due to fierce struggle by workers and powerful social movements, a rising tide did lift most boats. Today union density has dropped to its lowest point in over a hundred years, and employers are hell bent on driving it down even further. It seems like the billionaire class may have to learn the lessons of the past again the hard way: you can only pack so much pressure into a system before it blows. * * *
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Mexico Is Going All In for Universal Health Care ### Mexico’s new national health system aims to provide universal care. At a moment when US taxpayer dollars are being harnessed to destroy health care infrastructure abroad, Mexico is attempting to make a constitutional right to care into a lived reality. * * * Claudia Sheinbaum is making the current disparate health care service in Mexico open and portable. (Mariana Maytorena / ObturadorMX / Getty Images) At her morning press conference on April 7, President Claudia Sheinbaum announced that the _credencialización_ process, or enrollment, for Mexico’s new universal health care service was set to begin. The goal, she explained, was unambiguous: “By the time we leave office, any Mexican will be able to go to any public health institution and receive care for any condition.” To be phased in over the next four years, the reforms represent, in her words, “a historic step.” And if successful, indeed they will be. But in a fragmented health landscape where the Holy Grail of genuinely universal coverage has proved elusive, how will Sheinbaum’s ambitious rollout work? # A Service, Not a System The key to the answer lies in the name itself: it will be a national health _service_ , not a _system._ Broadly speaking, Mexico’s current public system is divided into four main areas: The Mexican Social Security Institute (or IMSS, for its Spanish acronym) is for salaried, private sector workers; the Institute for Social Security and Services for State Workers (or ISSSTE) is for their counterparts in the public sector; workers at the state oil company PEMEX have their own system; and the IMSS-_Bienestar_(Spanish for “well-being”), established by Andrés Manuel López Obrador’s (AMLO) administration, for those who do not qualify for the others, namely contract workers and the 33 million or so laboring in the informal sector. (An effort somewhat hampered by the fact that, in a dynamic roughly equivalent to the Obama-era expansion of Medicaid, a minority of states with right-wing governors have refused to opt in.) IMSS was founded in 1943 and ISSSTE in 1959. And although the concept of a fully contained public-health institute is reminiscent of European systems, these institutes are actually financed not through general taxation but US-style: by means of employer-employee payroll contributions. This means, in practice, dueling bureaucracies with decades of tradition, protocols, and infrastructure behind them. Instead of trying to storm these castles with a risky, all-out assault — merging everything into a new model that shifts the burden onto the general budget — Sheinbaum has instead opted for a next-best option: making the current one open and portable. In other words, allowing anyone from any of these public networks to use any of the others, with a behind-the-scenes reimbursement process so that it all flows smoothly. Here’s how it will work. In 2026, all citizens will be given their _credencial_ , or health ID card, which will also serve as an official means of identification. The card, which will gradually replace the health booklets currently in use, will be linked to an app containing each individual’s medical records, appointments, and available services. In 2027, portability will begin for an initial set of services: universal emergency care (currently patients are stabilized at the hospital of arrival before being transferred to a hospital in their system); high-risk pregnancies and other obstetric emergencies; heart attacks and strokes; breast cancer; universal vaccination; and basic consultations such as flu, diarrhea, and preventive care. Patients will not only receive care at any health center but will also have the option of remaining there for the duration of care, eliminating situations where forced transferals lead to truncated treatments. Then, in 2028, portability of care will be extended to chronic conditions such as diabetes and hypertension; cross-institution specialist consultations and hospitalizations; and the ability to fill prescriptions at any institution. In addition to extending coverage to those who lack it, thus expanding its reach, an obvious goal of the service is to make use of existing resources more efficient. As things currently stand, an IMSS hospital in a certain area may possess specialized equipment that is underused, while an ISSSTE hospital down the street could be experiencing backlogs. In the same way, a PEMEX hospital may have beds to spare while the nearest IMSS-_Bienestar_ institution will have patients on gurneys in the corridor. That leads us to the political aspect in play: as portability will eventually allow anyone to attend any public institution instead of being shunted into certain health ghettos, it will, ideally, require the harmonization of quality across the system — if nothing else, to avoid the “best” centers from being overrun. As people will be voting with their feet, underperforming or underserved areas will, in theory, be exposed sooner rather than later, leading to more timely interventions. # The Long and Winding Road The road to universal coverage has been a long one for Mexico’s Fourth Transformation, or 4T. When he came into office in December 2018, AMLO inherited a denuded system in which some 300 hospital projects had been left unfinished, a handful of distributors had cornered the medications market, the IMSS and ISSSTE were being subjected to death by a thousand cuts due to privatizations, and governors such as Michoacan’s Silvano Aureoles were diverting state health resources to finance right-wing media outlets such as _Latinus._ Determined to move forward quickly, AMLO canceled the ill-named People’s Health Care (_Seguro Popular_) program, which cannibalized public infrastructure while funneling resources into the private sector, replacing it with a proto-universal proposal called INSABI. While aspiring to universality was the right impulse, INSABI proved to be so open-ended that people didn’t know whether they were covered or not, and if so, where and how they could make good on said coverage. Where the _Seguro Popular_ , however deficient, had clear enrollment procedures and ID cards, the INSABI had none. That, in addition to a parallel set of confusions in the rollout and the onset of the 2020 pandemic, was enough to sink the initiative. The AMLO administration regrouped and, learning from its mistakes, launched IMSS-_Bienestar_. But the ghost of INSABI was to haunt it for years to come. When, toward the end of his term, a series of national and international studies — from Mexico’s CONEVAL to the World Bank — documented its remarkable success in lifting some 13.4 million out of multidimensional poverty, these findings nearly always included an asterisk with the caveat that access to health care had declined significantly. Although untrue and in many cases made in bad faith, the assertions did point to a clear, underlying problem. Namely, that the attempt to clear away impediments to care without a clear structure or communications strategy led many people, when asked on a survey if they were covered, to answer “no.” # From Constitutional Promise to Concrete Reality This is a lesson that the Sheinbaum administration has clearly taken to heart, as reflected in the front-and-center prominence of the new health ID card, together with a clear, calendarized rollout of services. Dangers, however, remain. As the IMSS and ISSSTE continue to be financed by payroll contributions, a drop in formal-sector employment, driven by the persistence of the informal economy or a war-induced global recession, would directly impact the system (general tax revenues would fall as well, of course, but the payroll-financing system is that much more direct). The reimbursement mechanism among institutions will need to be carefully worked out to weather these ups and downs. As the INSABI experience shows, a consistent, effective communications strategy will be necessary to overcome the decades-long habit of patients believing they can only receive care within their own system — or none, leading them to resort to “medical orientation” consultations at private pharmacies or simply forgo care altogether. As a percentage of GDP, Mexico’s health care spending remains well below the Organisation for Economic Co-operation and Development (OECD) average. And finally, the service will need to prove that it can put an end to the stratified provision of care by class, state, and region, replacing it with a truly universal experience, and to do so while working within existing bureaucratic divisions. No small order, in short. But at a time when the dollars of US taxpayers are being harnessed to destroy health care infrastructure in Iran, Gaza, and elsewhere, it is heartening to see Mexico take up the challenge of turning Article 4 of its Constitution, which provides for health care as a right, from promise to reality. * * *
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Why the Rich Should Get Free Public Childcare Too ### Critics see Zohran Mamdani’s inclusion of the wealthy in his new free public childcare initiative as a flaw. It’s actually an integral part of the policy’s design, rooted in the fact that universal programs are far more enduring than means-tested ones. * * * Zohran Mamdani’s childcare policy is driven by the recognition that the best way to protect entitlements for the poor is to embed them in a scaffolding of social rights for all. (Matt Roth / the Washington Post via Getty Images) Late last month, the _New York Times_ highlighted what might be considered a weakness in Zohran Mamdani’s universal free childcare plan: the rich will get to use it too. The article, titled “They Pay $34 for Burgers. Should Their Child Care Be Free?,” enumerated the consumerist excesses of a tony Upper East Side neighborhood slated to receive a daycare center, then questioned whether a city facing a budget crisis “should be using taxpayer money to fund free services that some families could pay for themselves.” Its author, Eliza Shapiro, presented a range of perspectives, to her credit, including the view that progressive taxation already addresses any potential unfairness. Mamdani’s childcare centers will be tax-funded, and income taxes rise with household tax brackets, so wealthier Upper East Siders are already paying more for public programs. The article also acknowledges that not everyone in the neighborhood is wealthy, and that the center will also serve residents of less affluent areas like Roosevelt Island and parts of Chinatown. But Mamdani’s critics get the last word: the piece concludes with one expert articulating the view that the first childcare spots should go to children from the lowest-income households, expanding up the income ladder on a sliding scale as funds become available. This approach is known as means-testing, or gatekeeping access to public services behind eligibility requirements and restricting that eligibility to people with limited means. Examples include Medicaid, SNAP, and Section 8 housing vouchers, all of which are available only to low-income people. The opposite of means-testing is universal program design, where all people, no matter their income, are entitled to a particular benefit just for being members of society. Examples include public education, Social Security, and Medicare, where we all pay in with our taxes and all get to benefit directly. The virtue of means-tested versus universal programs is not a new point of contention between centrist Democrats and the progressives and democratic socialists in their midst. During the 2016 Democratic presidential primary, Hillary Clinton differentiated herself from opponent Bernie Sanders by saying, “Now, I’m a little different from those who say free college for everybody. I am not in favor of making college free for Donald Trump’s kids.” The charge was that Sanders, by championing tuition-free public higher education open to all, was paradoxically backing a giveaway to economic elites. Clinton, favoring the same approach as the Mamdani skeptics quoted in the _Times_ article, advocated beefing up financial aid for applicants from low-income backgrounds only. "Instead of elevating the needs of the poor, means-testing ends up throwing them to the wolves." On the surface, the argument for means-testing seems convincing: it’s hard enough to find the money for social programs, so the people who need them most should be the first in line. It might appear confusing that Mamdani, someone avowedly committed to affordability for the working class, isn’t automatically keen to prioritize the poor and leave the rich to their own devices. But Mamdani, a democratic socialist in the Sanders tradition, is acting on an underlying political theory: the scarcity of funds for public programs and their vulnerability to cuts are not fixed facts. They’re political realities, and universal programs are more politically defensible and durable than means-tested programs. In other words, if you want a functional and long-lasting public program that aids the greatest number of people, and that a wide swath of society feels vested in defending, you should design it so that everyone, rich and poor, can access it. # Targeted Programs Make Easy Targets Simply put, targeted programs make easy targets. When only the most vulnerable and least powerful people in society benefit from a particular entitlement, _especially_ in a system where higher earners pay higher taxes, it ends up looking like charity. And just like in any household, charity is hard to defend when times get tough. When the economy fluctuates and middle and upper classes feel the squeeze, even the ideologically progressive among them start looking for ways to ease their tax burden. Inevitably, they start asking why their money is going to state-sponsored charity. Programs like SNAP and Medicaid end up on the chopping block, as they did last year. So, sure, you can save money up front with means-testing. The problem is that the programs themselves are incredibly vulnerable. Because only one group directly benefits from them, only that group is incentivized to defend them — and it happens to be the most politically disempowered segment of society. In practice, instead of elevating the needs of the poor, means-testing ends up throwing them to the wolves. And this is all on top of the bureaucratic dysfunction of means-testing, which ends up blocking millions of working-class people from programs they’re eligible for, sometimes by design. By contrast, universal programs are much more durable. They generate buy-in from a broader segment of the population and, over time, establish themselves as permanent social institutions that we largely take for granted. The most obvious example is public K-12 schools, which are constantly subject to political assault but also draw so many defenders from all walks of life that losing them entirely seems unthinkable. A means-testing approach might say that public schools should be available only to people who can’t afford even the cheapest private school. But this would risk dooming public schools to extinction, as the many people barred from accessing them might grow weary of paying for them. Privatizers and right-wing opponents of tax-funded public services could take advantage of that weariness to wipe them out. Instead of responsibly prioritizing low-income people’s needs with means-testing, then, we could end up relegating people who can’t afford private school to lives without education. But when you make a particular entitlement accessible to everyone, people stop thinking of it as a welfare boost and start thinking of it as a social right. We don’t think of public education as a handout to people who can’t afford the normal way of doing things, which is to pay for education themselves. We think of education as something that everyone deserves and something that benefits our entire society to universally provide. "Mamdani’s policy is driven by the recognition that the best way to protect entitlements for the poor is to embed them in a scaffolding of social rights for all." This makes privatizers’ and austerity-mongers’ jobs a lot harder, as they now look like they’re trying to send a sacred cow to the slaughter. Universal programs create more sacred cows, putting would-be slaughterers in a position that’s tough to defend. # How to Enshrine a Social Right Before Mayor Bill de Blasio began the push for universal pre-K in 2014, New York City offered means-tested subsidies to help low-income people afford childcare, including pre-K slots reserved only for eligible families and income- and work-based voucher programs. Unsurprisingly, they were under constant threat of rollback. After the 2008 financial crisis, for example, 10,000 vouchers were eliminated through budget cuts. De Blasio’s intervention was designed to create an enduring pre-K option that would naturally benefit low-income people most, since they’re the most reliant on it. And how do you do that? By making it available to everyone, even people who can spring for childcare on their own. Plenty of them will use it, because childcare is expensive enough that most households benefit greatly from a free option. As for the wealthy people who still prefer private childcare and resent having to pay for public day cares — and, indeed, there will be many on the Upper East Side, where the truly rich inhabit an exclusive, rarified parallel reality — their complaints will be less persuasive to the much larger portion of the population that is accustomed to childcare as a basic universal good. With his free universal day care initiative, Mamdani is trying to extend the same logic to the care of even younger children. His policy is driven by the recognition that the best way to protect entitlements for the poor is to embed them in a scaffolding of social rights for all. When you understand this, you see that the appearance of a free childcare center on the Upper East Side, happening concurrently with the rollout of similar centers in poorer parts of the city, is not a bug at all. It’s a feature meant to overcome the flaws of means-testing and make public childcare something that, like public education for older kids, we all take for granted as a basic component of a functioning and humane society. * * *
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The Landless Workers’ Movement, 30 Years After a Massacre ### Thirty years after the Eldorado do Carajás massacre, Brazil’s landless poor still find themselves under the heel of Latin America’s most powerful and impudent rural oligarchy. * * * Members of the Landless Workers’ Movement (MST) protest on the PA-50 highway on the eve of the twenty-seventh anniversary of the Eldorado dos Carajás massacre on April 16, 2023. (Nelson Almeida / AFP via Getty Images) This Friday, the landless workers of Brazil are marching two thousand strong into Salvador, a river of red crawling up the BR-324 highway. They are occupying fazendas in Madalena and in Darcinópolis, where just three years ago a hundred workers languished in modern slavery. And in Pará, three thousand landless move to occupy a stretch of highway some nine kilometers from the town of Eldorado do Carajás. They hold up banners and wooden crosses and red flags on poles. “If we are silent,” says one sign, “the stones will scream.” They are not silent: they cry, they beat drums, they sing. Their voices are echoed in India, in Indonesia, in South Africa, where peasants and landless rural laborers likewise rally in solidarity with their Brazilian counterparts. This phenomenal spate of political activity marks the thirtieth anniversary of the Eldorado do Carajás massacre, when Brazilian military police opened fire on a peaceful demonstration led by the Movimento dos Trabalhadores Rurais sem Terra (MST, the Landless Workers’ Movement), killing twenty-one landless activists and wounding more than sixty others. It is an atrocity in the history of the global labor struggle on par with Peterloo, Ciénaga, and Marikana — a litany attesting to the terrible power of the state against the protesting poor. The marchers in Salvador invoke the massacre’s legacy as both a denunciation and a defiance. “Thirty years of impunity,” proclaim the banners, “but also of resistance.” Impunity and resistance continue to define the struggle of Brazil’s landless poor for agrarian reform against Latin America’s most powerful rural oligarchy. Carajás remains a touchstone for Brazil’s far right, an extreme expression of the violence required to maintain one of the world’s most unequal systems of land tenure. At the same time, Carajás reaffirms the tenacity and pride of the movement that survived it. The massacre of Eldorado do Carajás remains woefully underrecognized in Brazil and even more so in the wider world. Yet it punctuates a living history, and in revisiting this atrocity in light of the present, we can trace the long arc of landless struggle in our time. # The Massacre on the PA-150 The Eldorado do Carajás massacre took place on the PA-150 highway in Pará state in Brazil’s far north. That the MST was active in Pará at all is astonishing in its own right. The huge state, twice the size of France, has long been the fiefdom of a coterie of oligarchic families whose hostility to land reform is bolstered by the police and courts — as well as by intimidation, kidnapping, firebombing, and murder. “They act as a state within a state,” says one monitor of rural violence. “It is difficult to imagine any area of public administration where they don’t have their say.” Pará’s abysmal poverty is the direct product of the fortunes extracted daily from its forests and earth. Since Brazil’s military dictatorship opened up the Amazon to extraction in the ’70s, Pará has generated billions in value for the mining and agribusiness industries. These extractive sectors simultaneously attracted tens of thousands of landless workers (_sem terra_) for precarious labor in mines and large plantations and expelled those already dwelling in the region as the land was concentrated in even fewer hands. Landlessness became endemic under the shadow of latifundios the size of small nation-states. "Carajás remains a touchstone for Brazil’s far right, an extreme expression of the violence required to maintain one of the world’s most unequal systems of land tenure." The MST began to mobilize in Pará in 1989, counting on its discipline and organization to withstand the landlords’ coercive power. Yet its strategy was deliberately confrontational, aiming, through large-scale land occupations, to wrest concessions from state leadership and government ministries. In Pará, they arguably overplayed their hand. Having successfully pressured the Instituto Nacional de Colonização e Reforma Agrária (INCRA), Brazil’s state land reform agency, into purchasing a working farm for settlement, the MST moved quickly to occupy a sprawling fazenda called Macaxeira. Occupying Macaxeira was a flagrant challenge to Pará’s rural oligarchy and a demonstration of the MST’s scorn for INCRAs gradualist approach to land reform. When some 1,500 landless families decided to occupy the PA-150 highway to force authorities to the negotiating table, the state intervened in the MST’s plans by force of arms. Governor Almir Gabriel ordered the Military Police to clear the highway “no matter what.” There was little chance of the operation proceeding peacefully. Local land barons had provided the authorities with lists of MST leaders to take out, and when the police arrived they had already removed their badges. The stage was set for a massacre. “They were intending from the beginning,” said a local journalist, “to teach the MST a lesson they would never forget.” Just after 4:00 p.m. on April 17, 1996, 155 military police arrived at the MST’s blockade, kettling the landless activists from both directions. A skirmish promptly broke out. Despite the landless’s numbers, there was no parity of force. The police blasted the crowd with tear gas and shot their machine guns into the air; the sem terra returned fire with sticks and stones. This gave license for outright butchery. Within minutes, the police opened fire into the crowd. The police did not merely saturate the throng of peasants, replete with women and children, with gunfire from a distance. The killing at Carajás was protracted and personal. Police pursued the wounded and bleeding into the undergrowth on the margins of the highway to finish them off. Of the nineteen men killed during the massacre (two more would later die of their wounds), seven were shot at close range in the head. But some police were not satisfied with the efficient dispatch of the peasants by firearm. They seized what farming implements lay at hand and set about literally butchering their victims. Twelve of the corpses were found to be hacked with sickles and machetes. Witness testimony paints a scene of frenzied pandemonium. “They machine-gunned a 22-year-old lad who was standing beside me,” said “Garoto” da Conceição. “I saw him fall. Everyone started running. There was a lot of blood. A lot of dead people. I couldn’t believe what was happening.” Yet the police proceeded methodically, isolating known leaders, whom they captured, tortured, and executed. These included the eighteen-year-old organizer Oziel Alves Pereira, who was forced to shout “Long live the MST!” as he was beaten to death. “When I saw pictures of his corpse, I couldn’t recognize him,” said Eva Gomes da Silva. “They knew he was a leader and they wanted him to suffer for it.” Thirteen of the nineteen confirmed killed were MST leaders, bolstering accusations that the murders were targeted. "Thirteen of the nineteen confirmed killed were MST leaders, bolstering accusations that the murders were targeted." The killing did not end on the highway. The police summarily executed at least one wounded man and roamed the hospitals in nearby Curianópolis the following night in search of other protesters. “The police just walked in and shot one man dead, just like that,” recounted Gomes da Silva. Doctors soon became afraid to treat the wounded, many of whom live with bullets in their extremities to this day. For the Polícia Militar, this vigorous bit of protest dispersal was a resounding success. They rounded off their campaign of terror by rambling through the encampment, looting corpses for objects of value. One cop claimed a saucepan for his upcoming wedding. “They started clapping when they got in the coach,” a local teacher recalled. “They seemed like soldiers returning from a war against an enemy country.” Far from waging war on foreign enemies, many of these police were the sons of landless workers themselves. The official death toll is almost certainly an understatement. “I’m sure that more than nineteen people were killed [at the scene],” one survivor told journalists. “They put one heap of bodies into a lorry and the other heap into a van. Those in the lorry reappeared, but those in the van were never seen again.” Reports of children hacked to death, plus the unusually high number of murdered leaders in the official statistics, bear out the idea that the true scale of the Eldorado do Carajás massacre has never been fully acknowledged. # “Scoundrels and Vagabonds” “Mission accomplished,” Colonel Pantoja told his troops once the shooting stopped, “and no one saw anything.” He was wrong on both accounts. The massacre was filmed by a local TV crew and quickly made international news. Brazil’s President Fernando Henrique Cardoso took a break from waging war on the MST to decry the killing as “an embarrassment for the country.” Portugal, France, and Germany registered formal concerns with Brasília, and even the Vatican condemned the massacre. The prevailing narrative holds that the genuine upswell of outrage that followed Carajás rebounded to the MST’s benefit. A slate of reforms indeed proceeded to expedite land expropriations and curb resistance in the judiciary. Yet organizers within Pará were less optimistic. “It may have affected the behavior of the federal government, but the state government here in Pará didn’t change,” recounted one observer. “The landowners continue to enjoy complete impunity.” To this day, justice has not been served for the martyrs of Carajás. Only the police commanders, Colonel Pantoja and Major José Maria Pereira de Oliveira, were ever convicted of crimes — and only in 2002, following a trial “riddled with irregularities.” The other 153 policemen present were acquitted entirely. This was unremarkable. In Brazil, the landless can be killed with impunity. Of 1,833 land-related murders recorded by the Catholic Church’s Pastoral Land Commission between 1985 and 2024, just forty-two _pistoleiros_ were ever convicted. Thus, for the Movimento sem Terra, this is not ancient history. Thirty years later, many of Carajás’s survivors remain traumatized and broken. Some who went on to attain land found themselves too disfigured to tend it. As the country lurched to the right, Carajás was increasingly invoked in laudatory terms. In 2018, then presidential candidate Jair Bolsonaro opted to give a stump speech from the scene of the massacre, declaring: “Those who should have been imprisoned were the MST — [those] scoundrels and vagabonds.” As for the police, they only “reacted not to get killed.” # Fruit of the Latifundio The massacre at Eldorado do Carajás was not an isolated incident. Violence is the fruit of the latifundio as much as soy or beef. It is the corollary of the extractive juggernaut that brings the bounties of the Amazon into global markets at the expense of the land and the laborers that work it. “An agrarian structure based on the extreme concentration of land,” as MST leader Ayala Ferreira puts it, “mandates violence as a mechanism for [its own] maintenance.” Across Brazil, more than 350 people have been killed over land in just the past decade. "Today the MST lacks the mass base to directly confront agribusiness." Where does the struggle of the Landless Workers’ Movement stand today? In some ways, the sheer violence of the late ’90s reflected the genuine threat the MST posed to the prevailing system of land tenure in Brazil. The movement’s strength rested in a mass base of disenfranchised workers willing to endure serious deprivations in order to claim land. This would not last. The irony is that the MST’s fight for agrarian reform was ultimately stymied by its political ally, the Workers’ Party (or PT), which cracked down on rural violence and disbursed land more freely but at the cost of entrenching the latifundio as the basis of Brazil’s agricultural system. As a rising economy diverted landless workers away from the countryside, the MST gradually ceased its large-scale occupations. Today the MST lacks the mass base to directly confront agribusiness and the extractive industry at the systemic level. It has pivoted instead to foreground its practices of agroecology, leveraging its infrastructure to assuage urban hunger, rural joblessness, and illiteracy. In cultivating a market niche for its produce (the movement is Latin America’s largest grower of organic rice), the MST has prioritized autonomy and security for its two million members over the conquest of new territory. All worthy goals, but a far cry from striking terror into the land barons, as the organization had decades prior. Yet liberation is a long and sinuous road — an elaborate interplay of entrenchment and expansion, militancy and co-optation. Following seven years of far-right rule and the ravages of the pandemic, the movement’s very survival is remarkable. The MST remains the largest social movement in Latin America and undoubtedly the most important link between Luiz Inácio Lula da Silva’s PT and the rural poor. Recent years have seen the MST start to recultivate its militant posture, seeking to galvanize the mass base necessary to restore the land struggle to national prominence. For its members, the fruits of struggle cannot be doubted: land is a tangible thing. “Of course, it’s not much,” reflects Raimundo Gouvêa, an MST leader in Pará. “But it is much more than before, when we had nothing — just the dreams we dreamed, sometimes, of a piece of land to work. I say _sometimes_ because we could almost never bring ourselves to dream.” Those dreams — of land, of dignified labor — echo far beyond Brazil. They underlie the struggles of India’s Dalits, South Africa’s squatters, and disenfranchised peasants from Colombia to the Philippines. That universal quality led the world’s largest coalition of rural movements, La Vía Campesina, to declare April 17 the International Day of Peasant Struggle. Dreams cannot, in themselves, wrest land from the landlords. But their recurrence stands as proof that a struggle so long waged cannot now be relinquished. “Because if dreams are eternal,” wrote the MST poet Ademar Bogo, “eternal also is the certainty of victory.” Today that certainty is affirmed in Brazil. * * *
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Hungary After Orbán ### Viktor Orbán was full of contradictions: a critic of neoliberalism who gave handouts to corporations and a moralist who ended up mired in scandal. But even after his election defeat, it’s unclear how much Hungary will really change. * * * Despite Viktor Orbán’s outsize international profile, this was an election mostly rooted in local realities. (Janos Kummer / Getty Images) Taunting his defeated opponents on the night of Hungary’s last elections four years ago, Viktor Orbán had boasted that his triumph could be seen from the moon, “or at least, from Brussels.” Four years later — despite the government’s investments in the domestic space program — his opponent Péter Magyar responded: the Hungarian people’s triumph “might not be visible from the moon” but it could be “seen from every Hungarian window.” Gathered along the Danube, his supporters erupted in cheers. A festival-like atmosphere filled Budapest’s streets and much of the country. Results trickling in throughout the evening confirmed a reversal that had seemed only a distant possibility during much of Orbán’s sixteen-year rule. His Fidesz party was swept aside by the unbalanced electoral system it had devised, which allowed Magyar’s upstart Tisza Party to gain a potentially constitution-altering, absolute majority in parliament. Turnout, at almost 80 percent, was the highest in Hungary’s post-1989 history. Despite Hungary’s small size and peripheral status, the end of Orbánism made headlines internationally. As right-wing leaders such as Marine Le Pen and Donald Trump eulogized Orbán’s legacy, most of the liberal response has focused on the country’s imminent “return to Europe” and the reestablishment of democratic norms. More tempered voices on the Left pointed out that the new parliament would be entirely right-wing; Magyar himself had been a member of Orbán’s Fidesz party until 2024 and sits with the conservative European People’s Party fraction in the European Parliament. Some claimed that nothing had — or could — change: this was simply Fidesz 2.0. For many on the Hungarian left, it was a night of mixed feelings. On the one hand, there was relief at the demise of an unjust, cruel system of rule, which has become central — including as a direct source of funding— to global far-right networks. On the other, Magyar’s own belated break with Orbán hardly entails a break with the structures that have enabled his regime; the relief on Sunday night says much about the dire state of the Left worldwide. "Most of the liberal response to Orbán’s defeat has focused on Hungary’s imminent ‘return to Europe’ and the reestablishment of democratic norms." Yet, after sixteen years of increasingly autocratic and self-serving Fidesz governments, to dismiss Magyar’s arrival as just more of the same would be to misrecognize the contingent opportunities, the structural shifts, and desire for change that led to this moment. # Orbán’s Many Moons After spending most of the 2000s in opposition, Orbán returned as prime minister in 2010 promising to restore national sovereignty and break with the neoliberal, austerity-driven politics of the previous decades. Yet this was no real rupture but more a selective process of fiscal interventionism, pursuing job numbers by wage repression, a disciplinary public-works program, and increased integration into global production chains. This was one of many tensions in this system. Orbán’s proclaimed “work-based society” was one that curtailed trade unions, allowed up to 400 hours unpaid annual overtime, and privatized public health and university systems by stealth. It has been a “pro-family” regime whose ruling members have been directly linked to systemic abuse in state-run foster homes, that has defunded childcare, and in which the country’s president had to resign after pardoning a pedophile’s enabler. In response to free-falling levels of health and education, the government abolished these ministries and handed them over to the interior minister. Presenting himself as a dove in face of the “war camp” in Brussels, Orbán has gone to great lengths to shield Israel’s actions, been one of the German defense industry’s most loyal customers, and — reportedly spurred by a religious vision of his son — long mooted a military intervention in Chad. Since 2020, Hungary has been under a state of emergency, allowing the government to rule by decree; in recent years, army recruitment campaigns have dotted the country’s billboards, while lavishly produced and AI-generated propaganda videos have warned of imminent war. "Orbán returned as prime minister in 2010 promising to restore national sovereignty and break with the neoliberal, austerity-driven politics of the previous decades. Yet this was no real rupture." As state and party effectively fused, independent media was curtailed, the rule of law weakened and digital surveillance expanded. Simultaneously, the government turned to culture wars in order to explain away the country’s ills: refugees, George Soros, Ukrainians, or “gender ideology.” Even as Hungary’s social and economic metrics have slumped — it is today, with Bulgaria, one of the two poorest EU countries — Orbánism proved resilient until the last years: the economic upturn of the 2010s, subsidies for household energy consumption, coercive use of state power, the complicity of the EU, and an ineffective and dispersed opposition all allowed it to stabilize. So, how did it unravel so drastically? # Austerity Redux Sunday’s outcome reminded us that despite Orbán’s outsize international profile, this was an election mostly rooted in local realities. Having reached power by standing against austerity, Orbán himself presided over what increasingly became even more drastic austerity. Keeping close to the EU’s fiscal orthodoxy, his administrations slashed town hall budgets, hardly invested in infrastructure, and enshrined a flat-tax system and the world’s highest VAT. Hungary had one of Europe’s highest per capita death rates in Europe during the COVID pandemic and frequent disruptions to an underfunded state railway system became a flash point of popular anger in recent years. While it facilitated a construction boom, his “pro-family” policies largely consisted of tax breaks and loans for the middle and upper classes; as such, they amounted to an upward redistribution of wealth and failed to reverse falling birth rates. Neither J. D. Vance nor any of the right-wing personalities who would flock to Budapest talked to the ordinary Hungarians who had faced years of continuous economic stagnation — much of it with record-levels of inflation — crumbling infrastructure, and a tone-deaf government. Orbán’s trajectory is, still, revealing of the far right’s trajectory worldwide. His shrewd criticism of neoliberalism after the 2008 financial crisis and selective use of state intervention in power sketched a new social contract with a national community conjured up — and disciplined — through his “workfare regime.” This project echoed and inspired that of parties like the True Finns or the Swedish Democrats in the 2010s; some of its elements were articulated by Le Pen and Trump; and it found its closest equivalent and allies in Poland’s Law and Justice party. "Sunday’s outcome reminded us that despite Orbán’s outsize international profile, this was an election mostly rooted in local realities." In the intervening decade, having seized or sufficiently shaped their respective states, these actors have all but abandoned their welfarist pretense, a shift in large part facilitated by the weakness of organized labor. These promises might have been hollow to begin with, but this process also points toward the radicalization of large sectors of capital worldwide. Having largely discarded the very notion of a social contract, they can offer little more than politics of resentment, graft, and militarization. Much of these tactics have proven dispiritingly effective globally — but as Orbán’s regime suffered electoral wipeout, jubilant crowds tore up his party’s electoral posters countrywide. # Orbán’s Losing Bets Corruption and mismanagement doubtless played a role in Hungarian economic woes, but its shrinking economic leeway is inseparable from international processes. A small country with little in terms of natural resources or leverage, Hungary has long staked its economic prosperity on foreign investment. Since the 2000s, this has foremost consisted in the (predominantly German) car industry, whose presence Orbán facilitated through tax exemptions and the disciplining power of the state. While some point to the general downturn of German manufacturing to explain Hungary’s own decline, this is only part of the story. As early as 2016, Orbán made a concerted effort to woo East Asian battery manufacturers to Hungary, with the goal of making Hungary a “battery hub” connecting Asian economies with European manufacturers. The investment was staggering: in 2023, Hungary received 43 percent of Chinese investment in the EU and factories sprouted up across its territory. Yet — as researcher Dávid Karas writes, “Lacking the infrastructure, energy capacity, and labor necessary for hosting a battery ecosystem, the government assumed the costs of derisking an entire regime of production.” As energy prices spiraled upward in the wake of the Ukraine war and Germany cut EV subsidies, the whole project unraveled, significantly straining Hungary’s energy grid and macroeconomic stability. Significantly, this was an industrial policy disembedded from social realities. As the environmental and social cost of these factories became apparent (they provide only few local jobs and have been shown to heavily pollute soil and water), dissatisfaction mounted even among the Fidesz faithful. In the final week of the election campaign, reports about a governmental cover-up of industrial accidents at the Samsung factory in Göd were leaked to the press, provoking outrage. # Hubris EU funds had cushioned the Orbán regime’s first years and facilitated its consolidation; besides well-publicized spats with the European Commission, there were at the time few substantial differences. But as Orbán embarked on an increasingly diverging path in recent years — notably regarding Ukraine — EU funds were gradually frozen in response to a slew of rule-of-law breaches. Tightened finances reduced the government’s room for maneuver and, significantly, made it more difficult to maintain the clientelist networks that kept midsize entrepreneurs and local political figures within Fidesz’s orbit. During its years in opposition in the 2000s, Fidesz had built an alliance with domestic entrepreneurs that felt left out of Hungary’s foreign direct investment (FDI)–oriented economy. By the end of Fidesz’s rule, however, an increasing section of Hungarian capital expressed public frustration with the concentration of wealth and power within a small oligarchic class. As the ruling elite engaged in ever-more ostentatious displays of wealth, from luxurious yachts and stadiums to zebras on Orbán’s family compound, a few entrepreneurs even went public with complaints that the “game was rigged.” "Corruption and mismanagement doubtless played a role in Hungarian economic woes, but its shrinking economic leeway is inseparable from international processes." A similar process played out within Fidesz: long a vehicle for social and political mobility for the ambitious — usually young men from the provinces such as those that had formed Orbán’s own circle — the party had atrophied during its years in power. Emerging from this dissatisfaction, Magyar’s own stalled ascension within the party doubtless contributed to his break with it. Orbán’s defeat is also, ultimately, a simple tale of hubris. Sixteen years in power have blinded the ruling clique to the realities faced by much of the country. If the regime’s reliance on propaganda could be seen as cunning, ruthless ploys in its early years, the Orbán elite appears to have increasingly believed its own, increasingly grandiose fantasies and the results of the ludicrous “national consultations” — state-funded propaganda exercises — it regularly organized. While Orbán successfully turned fear over war in neighboring Ukraine to his advantage in the lead-up to the 2022 elections, the specter of the existential threat posed by Kyiv had lost its edge after four years; it was also more difficult to paint Magyar as a Ukrainian asset given that he only slightly diverged from Orbán’s position on this issue. This complacency was reflected in Fidesz’s lackluster campaign. Whereas previous elections had seen promises of cash transfers and the announcement of targeted economic policies in the run-up to the vote, the 2026 campaign was almost entirely built on fear-mongering and the notion that Fidesz represented the only stable choice. Heckled by young protesters at a rally in Győr in the final days of the campaign, an irate Orbán yelled at them to be grateful instead. Regime strongman János Lázár made deeply damaging racist comments on the campaign trail about the country’s Roma population, a minority that had in fact largely voted for Fidesz in the past decade. A false-flag operation allegedly targeting energy infrastructure running through Serbia was so botched that even government-affiliated media soon enough stopped reporting on it. As for the past twenty years, Orbán refused to participate in any public debate. # The Rise of Magyarism Magyar’s rise might have been as unforeseen as sudden — but it was the result of the slow dissolution of Fidesz’s economic project and the social contract that held it together. He was also fortunate to step into an anti-Orbán field that had been essentially leveled: a void due in equal parts to Orbán’s repression of potential counterpowers, the opposition’s dismal track record, and the same lack of socially anchored mass movements we see worldwide. A Fidesz insider, Magyar is the ex-husband of former Justice Minister Judit Varga, one of the chief culprits in the dismantling of Hungary’s judiciary (she has since accused him of domestic abuse). Magyar broke into the Hungarian mainstream in February 2024 through an appearance on the YouTube channel Partizán, during which he criticized Fidesz’s handling of the then-unfolding “pedophile scandal” that had led to the resignation of both Varga and Katalin Novák, Hungary’s Fidesz-aligned president. A lawyer and Fidesz member since 2006, Magyar had held various high-ranking state positions. The “defection” of an Orbánite insider was rare enough to catch public attention at a moment of acute moral crisis for the government. Soon enough, he announced his entry into the political arena at the head of the Respect and Freedom (Tisza) Party. At the 2024 European elections, he handily outperformed all existing opposition formations. In contrast to Orbán — who either appeared in heavily choreographed domestic settings or engaged in international meetings — he continued his campaign throughout the country throughout the next two years, often embarking on weeks-long trips to small towns and villages. Magyar’s ascent built on outrage at the moral decay and corruption of the ruling elite; the fact that he had belonged to the same elite brought both interest and credibility to his story. If this outrage remained a key element of his messaging throughout the past years, he also campaigned on a promise to invest in the country’s decaying health system and infrastructure. He skillfully wove social considerations into what remains an essentially nationalist, pro-business technocratic program. Rallying the overwhelmingly Fidesz-critical youth and provincial middle class to his cause, he could also count on the support of disgruntled entrepreneurs that felt Fidesz had “distorted competition”: his main economic adviser is the former global vice president of Shell. Elements of the state apparatus, fearful of a break with the EU and NATO, also joined Magyar, as shown by defections and denunciation of Orbán among high-ranking military and policemen. "Magyar’s ascent built on outrage at the moral decay and corruption of the ruling elite; the fact that he had belonged to the same elite brought both interest and credibility to his story." Promising national renewal and a reestablishment of democratic and judicial norms, the Tisza program is a hodgepodge of various political inclinations: promising a 1 percent wealth tax on billionaires. and investment in social housing, it also vows not to touch Fidesz’s deeply unjust taxation system, “pro-family” tax breaks, or labor regime. Vowing to double down on Fidesz’s racist migration policies, Magyar has not engaged with demands from trade unions or feminist initiatives, and while his program alludes to the merits of crypto, climate policy is essentially absent. Until 2024, Magyar’s political trajectory had been entirely shaped within Fidesz; he has often displayed the same kind of arrogance and hostility to questioning that has characterized the incumbents. In his first interventions after the elections, he promised to bring to justice those who had plundered Hungary, limit the premiership to two terms, and rejoin the International Criminal Court. He also invited Benjamin Netanyahu to Hungary and praised Italy’s far-right premier, Giorgia Meloni. # Challenges Ahead Most of Magyar’s advisers and elected Tisza officials are either unknown or firmly on the right of the political spectrum — yet he himself acknowledged in his victory speech that many had voted for him less out of conviction than necessity. Having vacuumed up most opposition to Orbán, his own coalition is inherently unstable. Faced with daunting economic and political challenges, his base might rapidly fissure if tangible changes do not materialize. Firmly defeated, Fidesz is nonetheless hardly dead: its 2.2 million voters — as Orbán underlined — amount to the same number that had assured it a two-thirds majority of seats in 2014. If Tisza could rely on a large number of volunteers, Fidesz remains the only institutionally organized party nationwide; its influence also extends throughout the economy, state apparatus, and social fabric. Tisza does yield the same parliamentary majority that allowed Fidesz to change the constitution on a whim, but it must also contend with hostile courts, a Fidesz loyalist as president, and an economy dominated by transnational companies and Orbán-aligned oligarchs. Goodwill, and funds, from Brussels might alleviate the country’s predicament in the short run but can hardly overcome such structural challenges. # A View From the Left The Hungarian Parliament elected on Sunday is the first since 1990 that contains not even a single member nominally on the Left. In addition to the Fidesz and Tisza fractions, the openly fascist Our Homeland Movement party has kept its representation. In reaction to popular pressure, unfavorable polls, and their own conviction, left-leaning MPs gradually dropped out of the race and endorsed Tisza; other voices on the extra-parliamentary left called for abstention. The Democratic Coalition party (DK, long affiliated with disgraced former socialist PM Ferenc Gyurcsány) barely achieved 1 percent and is finally set to join the once all-powerful Socialist Party and Green Party splinters in the graveyard of what constituted the institutional face of Hungary’s left during the past decades. Once a promising force bridging grassroots organizing, party politics, and community work, the Szikra (Spark) movement has itself stalled in the face of daunting challenges and state clampdown. After decades of both overt and insidious repression, trade union density and organizing are at a historical low. Within the broader region of Eastern Europe, the wave of left-wing and green movements that emerged in the 2010s has survived rather than grown. And yet, the overdue disappearance of what has often passed for the Left in Hungary opens space for new initiatives and forms of organizing. There also exists a diffuse, heterogeneous progressive scene that was hardly present a decade ago; a new generation of labor organizers has emerged and critical scholarship and platforms have endured. The reestablishment of a less repressive judiciary and state apparatus cannot address the root causes of Hungary’s predicament but would make political organizing and mobilization less daunting than it has been during Fidesz’s rule. "Magyar has yet to take office — but his promise of a return to normality can already be discarded as illusory." The aspiration for a “Péter Magyar of the Left” remains a fantasy amid existing socio-historical conditions; however, his rise was fueled by a genuine appetite for social change and political involvement that any left-wing initiative must take note of. And while there is little in Magyar’s program or trajectory that breaks with the market-driven politics that have turned Hungary into a deeply unequal country, he was only able to achieve such broad support by campaigning for the kind of state-led social policies that a majority of Hungarians yearn for. Failure to deliver might quickly lead to confrontation with a newly politicized population. Magyar has yet to take office, but his promise of a return to normality can already be discarded as illusory: an international order buttressed by US-hegemony, seemingly frictionless globalization, and a relatively stable climate is not coming back. The Europe “Hungary has returned to” remains rudderless, morally tainted, and structurally dependent on the exploitation of the labor and resources of countries such as Hungary itself. But Magyar’s own rise epitomizes a political terrain made of rapid change and recomposition. Two years ago, Sunday’s outcome was near-unimaginable. The large-scale mobilization, hope, and politicization that led to this outcome can hopefully lead to a more open and plural political space. This change might not be visible from the moon. But it can, let’s hope, allow the forging of new paths. * * *
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Decarbonizing Housing Means Fighting Landlords ### As long as housing remains a profit-driven investment for landlords, the pace and scope of decarbonization will be shaped by their financial calculations. That’s a problem. * * * For residential buildings, decarbonization upgrades have primarily gone to homeowners. (Michael P. Farrell / Albany Times Union via Getty Images) Decarbonization is necessary to preserve life as we know it on the planet. But many would have you believe that we can achieve a rapid and equitable transition to clean energy while also preserving the economy as we know it. The case of building decarbonization shows that a much deeper change is needed. Buildings currently generate about 31 percent of total US greenhouse gas emissions, including roughly 20 percent from residential buildings. In dense cities, the share is even higher: buildings account for just over 40 percent of emissions in San Francisco and Seattle, and nearly 70 percent in places like Chicago and New York City. The good news is that the necessary upgrades for energy efficiency also come with many benefits to residents. They mean lower utility bills from reduced energy use, improved health from better indoor air quality, and greater comfort from things like modern heating and cooling systems or new appliances. In the case of decarbonization upgrades, these improvements also generate broader societal benefits by reducing greenhouse gas emissions. But so far, these benefits have not been equally shared. Instead of a green economic populism for the many, we see clean energy benefits for the few. For residential buildings, decarbonization upgrades have primarily gone to homeowners. A recent study found that renters are unlikely to benefit from most energy efficiency programs, and many local programs aren’t even available to renters. Many programs that are theoretically open to renters, such as rebate programs for clean energy appliances, never actually benefit them in practice. In part, this is because homeowners are more likely to have the upfront cash needed to make improvements. But the issue goes deeper than that. Renters don’t just lack the money to afford home retrofits; they rarely have the authority to decide what happens to their home at all. For homeowners, energy efficiency improvements are an easy sell. An initial investment will eventually pay for itself through lower utility bills, and in the meantime, homeowners get to enjoy the added comfort of the improvements. But in rental housing, who pays and who benefits are different. It’s up to landlords to pay for upgrades, while tenants are the ones who benefit from lower utility bills and added comfort. In the world of energy policy, this is known as the “split incentive” problem, a term rooted in neoclassical economics that treats the issue as a market inefficiency. But we should understand this for what it really is: class conflict. # A Problem of “Split Incentives” It’s not that landlords and tenants don’t have split incentives — they clearly do. But framing this as a “split incentive” problem acts as a kind of mystification, obscuring the class conflict inherent to the landlord-tenant relationship. David Harvey and others have demonstrated how landlords operate as a class that is able to monopolize, control, and restrict access to housing. Where capitalists own the means of production and workers sell their labor for wages, landlords own the means of social reproduction (housing), and tenants pay rent to live in it. But the “split incentive” concept takes this underlying conflict and recasts it in technical terms. The managerial language of “incentives” suggests that the challenge can be solved through smart policy that benefits renters by rewarding landlords. You can see this narrative in the subtly coded ways journalists and policymakers talk about this issue. A recent headline in _Grist_ asked, “Can cities make landlords care about energy efficiency?” An article in the _Verge_ bemoaned, “Policymakers haven’t yet built a solution for renters despite a need to decarbonize the entire housing sector.” The implication is that this is a complex and technical problem but one that can be solved through clever policy design. This framing has had an enormous influence on the way energy policy researchers, advocates, and bureaucrats think about residential decarbonization. By considering the problem as fundamentally about incentives, the solutions that policymakers build for renters inevitably center around “win-win” outcomes that ultimately serve elite interests. This dynamic is visible in existing retrofit programs, where the few programs that try to serve renters do so mostly through free giveaways to landlords. For example, the Equitable Building Decarbonization Program in California has committed over $500 million for no-cost home retrofits, while Pennsylvania’s Whole-Home Repairs Program offers grants of up to $50,000 per household for habitability and energy improvements. These programs take meaningful steps to address long-standing inequities by targeting low-income rental housing and taking a whole-home approach to retrofits that includes funding for habitability repairs. These are some of the strongest programs in the country, standing out by virtue of actually trying to equitably reach renters. In the short term, they provide real relief to tenants, and we should support and expand them wherever possible. The more uncomfortable truth, however, is that even with these programs, the underlying power imbalance between renters and landlords remains intact. When decarbonization is framed primarily as a problem of incentives, the best policy we can hope for is paying landlords to do the right thing. # From Incentive Management to Class Struggle It’s not just a matter of semantics. Understanding this dynamic as class conflict rather than simply market inefficiency points us in a fundamentally different direction. Instead of a problem of incentive management, the problem becomes a question of ownership and power. If the central barrier to building decarbonization is rooted in the opposing interests of a class-based housing system, then the issue cannot be resolved through a well-designed policy. It will depend on the ability of tenants to build enough power to demand safe, healthy, and climate-resilient homes. The path to decarbonization is not a set of incentives to tweak but a struggle to organize and build tenant power. A strong tenant movement will also have different demands. Tenants won’t be asking for programs that pay landlords to decarbonize; they will call for nonmarket solutions like social housing that directly confront the system of housing that maintains rental property ownership for unchecked private profit. As long as housing remains a profit-driven investment for landlords, the pace and scope of decarbonization will be shaped by their financial calculations. Social housing offers a clear alternative. When housing is owned and managed for public benefit rather than private profit, the benefits of decarbonization are internalized within the system. Home upgrades translate directly into systemwide savings as well as longer-term averted costs in climate impacts and public health. The power of this model becomes obvious when you look at the ways cities and countries with robust social housing systems are able to leverage their social housing stock to promote environmental sustainability and resilience. That’s why advocates are increasingly using the term “green social housing” — not only to envision more beautiful and sustainable buildings but also to highlight that social housing should be a central part of our climate agenda. Rejecting an incentive-based approach clarifies how we should address private rental housing. Instead of trying to coax landlords with financial incentives to voluntarily decarbonize, we need strong discipline of the private housing market in the form of rent control, eviction protections, and decarbonization standards. As we require homes to transition off of fossil fuels, tenant protections will ensure climate action is not a trigger for rent hikes or displacement. This isn’t about developing the right set of policies. It’s about who has the power to make their policies prevail. As Ricardo Tranjan argues in _The Tenant Class_ , “The challenge for the tenant class is not to _find solutions_ for the so-called housing crisis, but to _enact_ the solutions we know work.” If we reject the framing of “split incentives,” we are forced to confront the class conflict as the core of the problem. Decarbonizing housing will not be achieved by fine-tuning incentives but by transforming who owns and controls housing — and building tenant power to demand and win it. * * * This work has been made possible by the support of the Puffin Foundation.
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How Flint Sit-Down Strikers Built Their Confidence ### We can’t revive labor without reviving workers’ confidence to take action on the job. In 1936 and into 1937, during a period of union weakness, Flint’s sit-down strikers in the auto industry figured out how to do just that. * * * Sit-down strikers occupying one of the Fisher Body plants in Flint, Michigan. (Bettmann / Getty Images) On February 11, 1937 — forty-four days after their occupations of the Fisher Body No. 1 and No. 2 plants began in Flint, Michigan — General Motors (GM) workers won a landmark agreement. The one-page document included commitments to union recognition and collective bargaining over wages, seniority, work-life balance, and other working conditions, and a prohibition on discrimination or retaliation against union members. In a supplementary letter sent to Michigan Governor Frank Murphy, GM also agreed, for a six-month period, not to support or bargain with company unions or any organization of GM workers other than the United Auto Workers (UAW). Before the sit-downs, there were many reasons to believe conditions were not ripe for a breakthrough against the world’s most powerful corporation. In June 1935, only 4,481 GM workers — less than 3 percent of GM’s hourly workforce — were dues-paying UAW members. In Flint, only 757 out of over 40,000 workers were members, and many GM workers regarded this small minority as “paid agents of General Motors and would have nothing to do with them.” General Motors routinely flouted the law to undermine union drives — illegally firing and blacklisting union activists, employing spies to surveil union activity, and calling in police to bust up union meetings and strikes. The congressional La Follette Civil Liberties Committee exposed that GM spent millions on its vast anti-union espionage network and was the largest industrial client of the Pinkerton National Detective Agency. Flint was a paradigmatic company town: city ordinances forbade the distribution of union leaflets and the use of sound equipment for union demonstrations. When UAW Vice President Wyndham Mortimer first canvassed the clapboard shacks of Flint workers’ neighborhoods in 1936, he lamented that “a cloud of fear hung over the city, and it was next to impossible to find anyone who would even discuss the question of unionism.” As UAW Communications Coordinator Henry Kraus put it, “Suspicion — the result of years of stoolpigeon activity — had reached the stage of a mania among Flint workers. The usual remark was that you couldn’t trust your best friend; you couldn’t even trust your own brother.” "GM routinely flouted the law — illegally firing and blacklisting union activists, employing spies to surveil union activity, and calling in police to bust up union meetings and strikes." The sit-down strikers nevertheless succeeded spectacularly. By the middle of October 1937, just eight months after the sit-down settlement, 400,000 workers across multiple companies had joined the UAW-CIO (Congress of Industrial Organizations). By 1938, US union membership more than doubled to 24 percent. When GM workers held union representation elections in 1940, a majority of workers in forty-eight GM plants across the country voted to join UAW. By then, workers across the American economy — in transportation, meatpacking, electrical equipment, and steel — had joined together into new, mass-membership industrial unions. What enabled a relatively small group of workers to engage in such dramatic action, and more importantly, what made them correct to assume that they had a majority of coworkers on their side? What made Flint workers believe that a successful sit-down was possible — especially when there was real potential for supervisors, police, and anti-union workers to violently suppress their occupation? As the UAW celebrates its ninety-first anniversary this year amid an all-out assault by the billionaire class, returning to these questions of organization is more important than ever for charting labor’s future. # Class Confidence One of the most common answers to these questions is simple: Flint workers — and workers in the 1930s more generally — were highly class conscious. But what is meant by “class consciousness”? In _The Making of the English Working Class,_ historian E. P. Thompson defines class consciousness as “the consciousness of an identity of interests as between all these diverse groups of working people and as against the interests of other classes.” Similarly, sociologist Erik Olin Wright defines class consciousness as “the understanding by people within a class of their class interests.” While understanding one’s class interests and their relationship to capital is certainly important for collective action, these definitions underspecify the psychological link between understanding and action. After all, most workers today understand that wealth and power are concentrated in the hands of a billionaire class and that unions are the most effective way to fight back — but too many remain hesitant to act on these beliefs by forming a union in their workplace. Others define class consciousness teleologically, reading it backward from militant collective action. As labor sociologist Rick Fantasia notes, “the extraordinary degree of working-class solidarity expressed in the labor wars of the 1930s has served as a virtual ideal-typical model of class consciousness. . . .” According to these accounts, you know class consciousness when you see it. But narratives of a spontaneous explosion of worker self-activity mystify the origins of class consciousness and collective action. As any union leader or organizer knows, in addition to class consciousness, workers also need confidence. In order to take the necessary risks to prevail in fierce new organizing and contract fights, workers must not only know their interests but believe they can win them — and constantly exude this confidence in interactions with coworkers. This confidence must also be grounded in reality: in the experience of and lessons from past struggles, in the righteousness of the current fight, and in a strong structure of workplace leaders. Reflecting on the sit-down success, Mortimer put it succinctly: “We had confidence and a spirit of sacrifice that eventually enabled us to accomplish what many had thought was impossible.” "Class confidence was an essential psychological precondition of the sit-downs, converting understanding of class interests into militant collective action." Class confidence was an essential psychological precondition of the sit-downs, converting understanding of class interests into militant collective action. Many accounts of class consciousness certainly include some element of what I’m calling class confidence. But by pulling out and specifying this concept, we can better understand the mechanisms that lead from understanding to action and back again. So how did class confidence come about in the case of the Flint sit-downs? Certainly one factor was the prior accumulation of victories — especially at smaller employers — which gave workers in isolated communities a sense of collective momentum. But previous eras had seen individual victories fail to inspire worker action at scale. What was key in Flint in the winter of 1936–37 to translating this momentum in the broader manufacturing industry into aggressive class confidence in workers’ immediate workplace was something else: a structure of trusted workplace leaders strong enough that dramatic disruption could be met with solidarity rather than fear and repression. # Momentum Toward Flint In May 1936, French workers began what many claim were the first mass sit-down strikes in modern history. By June, one-fourth of all French workers were on strike, and nearly three-fourths of strikes were sit-downs. At a meeting with French automakers in September 1936, where they warned him about the French wave spreading across the Atlantic, General Motors Executive Vice President William Knudsen dismissed the threat: “No, that could not happen in the United States. . . . The American people would not stand for them.” Just weeks later, the sit-downs arrived in the US auto industry, starting at smaller suppliers in the early fall before reaching General Motors in November. Workers sat-in at parts maker Bendix in South Bend, Midland Steel and Kelsey-Hayes Wheel in Detroit, and finally, at General Motors plants in Atlanta, Kansas City, and Cleveland. Each of these victories contributed to a sense of momentum and inevitability. They revived a belief in collective action after years of defeat — most notably Fisher Body No. 1’s previous failed strikes in 1930 and 1934, during which American Federation of Labor (AFL) leaders bungled negotiations with the company and GM fired and blacklisted many left-wing union leaders. They also gave practical advice to would-be sit-downers. According to La Follette Committee investigator Charles Kramer, Flint worker-activists, especially those with ties to the Communist Party USA (CPUSA), had developed “a whole organizational plan as to what you do inside the plant and what you do outside the plant. This was an organizational plan that had been derived from the Polish experience, the French experience, and the Akron experience, and Midland Steel.” Franklin D. Roosevelt’s election to a second term supercharged this growing wave. In the 1936 presidential elections, Congress of Industrial Organizations (CIO) leader John L. Lewis declared that electing pro-labor federal and state officials was essential for organizing the mass-production industries. Lewis had good reason for this belief: anti-labor politicians and judges had allied with corporate interests to undermine Roosevelt’s New Deal agenda and stifle unionization efforts under the National Industrial Recovery Act. "Previous governors had used state police to break up strikes; Frank Murphy pledged to support workers’ right to organize." Lewis and other CIO leaders created labor’s Non-Partisan League, committing greater union resources and boots on the ground to electing Roosevelt than in any previous election. When Roosevelt won decisively, “union sentiment flamed up throughout the whole plant like a fire before a wind,” according to one account. A UAW leaflet following the election declared, “You voted New Deal at the polls, and defeated the Auto Barons — now get a New Deal in the shop.” Equally important was the election of Michigan Governor Murphy, one of many New Deal governors who took office in 1937. Previous governors had used state police to break up strikes. Murphy pledged to support workers’ right to organize. So important was Murphy to the union’s strike strategy that UAW leaders had originally planned for the Flint sit-down to start in January 1937, after Murphy assumed office. Toward the end of the strike, Murphy delayed deploying state authorities to enforce an injunction, giving union leaders critical space to reach an agreement with GM. # Structure of Leaders as Engine of Confidence Too many accounts of the 1930s upsurge begin and end with momentum and ripe political conditions, leading to a false sense of inevitability. What’s left unexplained is _how_ precisely the sit-down momentum took hold in Flint. This remarkable upsurge of militancy could have ended, as it did at many previous moments in labor history, in heartbreak, with the sit-downs isolated and defeated, never arriving in Flint. Most GM factories were not directly involved in the sit-downs, so clearly factors beyond momentum were involved in making the Flint sit-downs successful. Here I will show how a carefully built structure of workplace leaders fostered collective experiences that gave workers the confidence to sit down or leave their stations and support the strike from the outside. This structure was also crucial for the seizure of Plant 4 and other moments that brought the strike to ultimate victory, but the focus of this analysis will be on what enabled the Flint sit-downs to happen successfully in the first place. In June 1936, Mortimer arrived in Flint to help prepare for a decisive confrontation with General Motors. A long-time autoworker who rose to prominence after leading an organizing drive at the White Motor Company, Mortimer understood that winning union recognition at GM required organizing “on a national scale for a national strike to win a national agreement.” Flint, a crucial node in GM’s supply chain, was essential to this objective. Mortimer built on previous years of organizing by the Socialist Party’s League for Industrial Democracy (LID) and other left-wing groups, working with a small core of seasoned shop-floor leaders to rebuild a network of workplace leaders in Flint. He bought a copy of the Flint directory to look up the addresses of five thousand workers who had formerly been part of Flint’s defunct AFL auto unions and sent those workers a series of letters. Each letter, according to Mortimer, “dealt with a specific issue” and “hammered home the fact that the answer to the problem was the union.” Here’s one letter that took the issue of fear head-on: > It is fear of losing the job that keeps you from signing an application for membership in the union. I do not blame anyone for protecting his job. . . . But the hard cold fact is that you will lose that job sooner or later. If you do not lose it as a result of joining the union, you will lose it because a new machine will replace you . . . or because gray hairs appear around your brow. . . . You will lose the job for any number of reasons beyond your control, because the job does not belong to you. It belongs to General Motors, and your chances of keeping that job will be infinitely better when you join with your fellows in a union, and fight for job security. . . . Any worker who responded positively to these letters was asked to organize a house meeting with trusted coworkers, outside the view of GM management and their spies, to discuss unionization. Attendees were asked to organize other house meetings and invite more coworkers. Many attendees had been active in previous failed strikes and were persuaded through this process that the UAW’s industrial approach marked a break from the AFL’s timid, craft union approach. Mortimer called this systematic approach to recruiting leaders, “breaking the hard ground” and “leavening the dough.” Over time, workers built a fairly representative structure of pro-union leaders across most areas in the plant. Here’s how Bud Simons describes the process and the result of their efforts: > Yeah, most of ‘em [Fisher Body No. 1 workers] were scared. So we had . . . volunteer organizers that we’d set up. And I’d take them over into the [union] hall and [Mortimer] would sign his name on their organizing card, see. Volunteer organizers. . . . Well, then they knew someone, had a brother or somebody in the tool shop or the press room or any place else and they’d get a hold of him, see. > > And Mort, he’d come out about once a week. And here’s all the guys that are volunteer organizers. Well, they brought their friends and got them signed as volunteer organizers. _We had the goddamn place full of them. Hell, we must have had two hundred and fifty volunteer organizers in there_ (emphasis added). These volunteer organizers informed their coworkers about successful strikes at other plants, answered workers’ questions about unionization, built unity, countered anti-union intimidation and misinformation, and recruited more organizers. Months later, Bob Travis replaced Mortimer as the International Union’s primary organizer in Flint but continued the organizing program Mortimer set in motion. In Travis’s words, “I always indicated that someday maybe it would be necessary for us to have a strike. But we wanted to make sure that when we did that, we would be able to protect our strike and win the strike.” Travis reiterated to worker leaders the importance of enlarging their leadership structure “so as to get representation on it from all departments.” Intermediate victories accelerated leadership recruitment across departments. One of the most important of these occurred in November when “body-in-white” department workers at Fisher Body No. 1 held a mini sit-down over the firing of workers protesting speed-ups — the auto industry’s most deeply and widely felt issue — on their line. Within hours, the fired workers were back at work. Strike Committee Chair Simons summarized the lesson from the victory: “Fellows, you’ve seen what you can get by sticking together. All I want you to do is remember that.” In the following weeks, “organization shot out from body-in-white into [the] paint, trim, assembly, and press-and-metal [departments].” To be sure, Flint’s workplace leadership structure still had major gaps that could have ultimately imperiled the strike. GM employed 47,000 workers across more than ten factories in Flint. The company’s massive Buick, AC Spark Plug, and Chevrolet plants had limited pro-union leadership coverage. When the strike began suddenly on December 30, these gaps enabled the company to stoke an anti-union backlash when the sit-downs idled or slowed production at Flint’s non-struck plants. "As that regime crumbles under Republican aggression and Democratic fecklessness, it’s an opportune time to revisit the basics of building class confidence." GM channeled anti-union discontent into a front group called the “Flint Alliance for the Security of Our Jobs, Our Homes, and Our Community.” This organization engaged in vigilante violence against pro-union workers and demanded Governor Murphy enforce an injunction to eject the sit-downers. The late labor organizer and scholar Jane McAlevey popularized a “structure-based organizing” approach that Flint in many ways exemplifies. But contrary to a central tenet of McAlevey’s approach, Flint Fisher Body workers did not engage in a rigorous, majority-participation structure test before sitting down. There were several reasons for this, including concerns that exposing pro-union workers before the sit-down would result in mass firings and blacklisting as well as concerns that their factories would prematurely shut down if they delayed a sit-down, due to parts shortages stemming from other sit-downs. This didn’t mean Flint unionists expected “momentum” from broader industry victories to spontaneously spur masses to action. They knew that without workplace leaders across every department instilling confidence and maintaining unity, the company could easily divide, intimidate, and confuse their coworkers into inaction. That’s why they focused on building a dense, representative leadership structure, while recognizing their limited ability to preemptively “test” this structure in confrontational action. But through leader-driven, confidence-building activities — house meetings, delegations to supervisors over workplace issues, and mass meetings in the lead-up to December 30 — they generated enough solidarity to achieve majority support at the decisive moment, even while only a minority of workers sat down. As Victor Reuther put it, “The company’s return-to-work movement was not able to persuade the majority outside the plant to act against the minority inside.” I would argue that this approach is key to building class confidence: not necessarily a “verifiable” majority or supermajority in preparation for collective action but a determined, representative minority that has both a majoritarian focus and enough of an understanding of and an embeddedness within their workplaces to make mass collective action happen. In many ways, the current regime of labor law has veiled this key dynamic that was at the heart of the biggest labor upsurge in American history. As that regime crumbles under Republican aggression and Democratic fecklessness, it’s an opportune time to revisit the basics of building class confidence. # Rebuilding Class Confidence Today Just as in the early ’30s, today a high degree of public support for unions exists alongside a historically low unionization rate and extreme concentrations of wealth and political power. To break out of this interregnum, we must train our focus on tactics and strategies that rebuild class confidence. What can we learn from the sit-downs about how to do this? A key lesson I’ve tried to draw out here concerns the twin dangers today of overly rigid structure testing and minority vanguardism. If Flint sit-downers had insisted on completing a majority structure test before their strike, they likely would have missed their moment. This lesson contravenes more rigid applications of structure-based organizing, according to which no leadership structure can be considered ready for militant majority action unless it has proven its capacity to engage a majority in lower-stakes action. The opposite is also true: unions have lost elections and strikes by falsely concluding that a majority of workers signing cards or a petition _necessarily_ means you have a strong, confident network of pro-union workers who can lead their coworkers through the boss campaign to victory. William Z. Foster summarizes the other danger of minority vanguardism in _Organizing Methods in the Steel Industry_ , cautioning that organizing campaigns must “prevent the movement from being wrecked by company-inspired local strikes and other disruptive tendencies. The necessary discipline cannot be attained by issuing drastic orders, but must be based upon wide education work among the rank and file and the development of confidence among them.” Flint organizers certainly agreed with these ideas and sought to avoid premature strikes called by a righteous but isolated few. Still, the lack of organization in Flint’s larger factories nearly proved fatal to the sit-down wave. "To organize today’s workplaces, it’s necessary to recruit and train a broad, representative layer of pro-union workers across work areas, departments, and shifts who are willing to help organize their coworkers." How to navigate between these twin dangers? In order to organize today’s massive, high-turnover workplaces — auto factories, logistics hubs, and more — it’s necessary to recruit and train a broad, representative layer of pro-union workers across work areas, departments, and shifts who are willing to help organize their coworkers. Not everyone in this layer will be so-called “organic leaders” in the strict sense of the term — their degree of influence will vary. But without this broad layer taking various actions to build their coworkers’ confidence, the most influential workers will likely sit out the fight. The sit-down experience shows the virtue of recruiting _any and all_ trusted, pro-union workers who are willing to do at least _some_ amount of organizing, tracking the growth of this structure over time, and drawing on it to mobilize workers to mass meetings and other collective experiences that further build class confidence. The sit-downs are also evidence that big wins tend to happen in the right political conditions and with existing organizing momentum. Today we must look for opportunities to win elections, strikes, and first contracts at smaller, less-resourced employers to help set off industry-based momentum. But for this momentum to breach a Tesla or an Amazon, we must do the spadework of recruiting and training leaders, across every area and shift, at the largest, most strategically important worksites. Only then will workers have the confidence to believe in Eugene Debs’s famous declaration that the labor movement’s triumph “is as certain of ultimate realization as is the setting of the sun.” * * *
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Dwight Macdonald After the Death of Liberalism ### The defining feature of American imperialism is its combination of an enormous capacity for death and destruction with an equally enormous sense of self-entitlement. Cold War journalist Dwight Macdonald understood this outlook better than most. * * * Dwight Macdonald’s writing was critical of a Cold War liberalism that spoke in the language of universal rights even as it carpet-bombed Vietnam. Amid a new imperialism unburdened by sentimental illusions, his essays show just how far the US has fallen. (Sylvia Salmi / Bettmann via Getty Images) Review of _Atrocities of the Mind: Essays on Violence and Politics in the American Century_ by Dwight Macdonald (University of Chicago Press, 2026) A common refrain of centrist liberals nostalgic for the halcyon days of _West Wing_ –inspired politics is that once upon a time, America was a country. By this, they mean a place where things ran more or less as expected, which is to say more or less the way centrist liberals think they ought to be run. Like most forms of nostalgia, this variant is not grounded in reality. It is rather a product of an unconscious form of selective forgetting. America’s cult of idolatry around the Constitution, a document treated with as much reverence as the Ten Commandments, proved so incapable of holding the country together in the nineteenth century that a civil war broke out followed by what constitutional scholars call a complete “second founding.” The twentieth century was as volatile as the nineteenth. For the United States, the Great Depression, two world wars, and bombing campaigns across Indochina took place against the backdrop of civil rights and sexual revolutions, as well as a Cold War that threatened to destroy the modern world. Politically, the twentieth century was, for better and for worse, considerably more ideologically diverse than it is usually understood to be. The 1930s witnessed fascist proto–America Firsters, Trotskyists, Christian socialists, anarchists and more battling to sway and influence US politics during a peculiarly open-minded time in the country’s history. It was in this tumultuous environment that the seminal socialist journalist Dwight Macdonald cut his teeth. Ideologically ever on the move, his career charted the aspirations, shattered hopes, and moral integrity of the mid-century American left. _Atrocities of the Mind: Essays on Violence and Politics in the American Century,_ a new collection of Macdonald’s writing, assembles some of his best work for a new generation that is grappling, once again, with the rise of a far-right hostile to democracy. # A History of Violence Macdonald was born in 1906 into a prosperous New York family. Precocious and well-loved, he sojourned at Yale before deciding to pivot into journalism just as the Great Depression put an end to the roaring 1920s. The 1930s made him a Trotskyist, and anti-fascism kept him in that camp through much of the World War II. But eventually, dissatisfaction with the rigidity of party Marxism led to a break. At the outset of the Cold War, he declared he stood with the more open West against the closed East, although this didn’t result in a shift to the political right, as it would for the neocons a generation later. Instead, Macdonald gradually came to be identified with more democratic and libertarian forms of socialism; he spent the final years of his journalistic career fiercely criticizing American imperialism in Vietnam and beyond. Macdonald cannot reasonably be described as an organic intellectual. He was a child of privilege who absorbed the rarefied literary sensibilities that came with that upbringing. But he was much more materialist than many orthodox historical materialists in his refusal to accept idealized ideological categories and binaries. He maintained a deep admiration for Christian socialism and good old-fashioned moralism — an outlook that some might dismiss as utopian for its refusal to invest hopes in an organized working-class party. Macdonald compensated for this lack with a savvy responsiveness to events on the ground and a refusal to abstract away from the lives of ordinary people in the name of grandiose ideological projects. At his best, this gave him an ability to shine a bright light on his country’s worst crimes. He insisted, against a nationalist liberal and conservative establishment, that dropping atomic bombs on Hiroshima and Nagasaki brought Americans down to the moral level of the Nazis they opposed. > At 9:15 on the morning of August 6, 1945, an American plane dropped a single bomb on the Japanese city of Hiroshima. Exploding with the force of 20,000 tons of TNT, The Bomb destroyed in a twinkling two-thirds of the city, including, presumably, most of the 343,000 human beings who lived there. No warning was given. This atrocious action places “us,” the defenders of civilization, on a moral level with “them,” the beasts of Maidanek. And “we,” the American people, are just as much and as little responsible for this horror as “they,” the German people. While Macdonald was a product of the Cold War and was often very critical of Soviet authoritarianism, he was never a partisan cold warrior. He was continuously thoughtful and willing to call out morally reprehensible acts wherever they occurred. This lent his work an admirable moral maturity that took the form of a hostility to the juvenile countercultural sensibility that delights in subverting expectations and is terrified of being labeled and possibly negated. Macdonald was never self-absorbed enough to care about these kinds of purely aesthetic concerns. Even if you disagree with him — I often did — reading this volume, it’s hard to doubt that his ideas are motivated by an open-minded sincerity. When thinking about Macdonald’s earlier essays defending pacifism in World War II, I found myself agreeing with an older Macdonald who came to recognize, in the face of fascist contempt for the “weak,” that no amount of passive civil disobedience would have averted the horrors brought about by that conflict. But even the young Macdonald was undoubtedly right to force us to accept an uncomfortable truth: while assertions of moral equivalence can be forms of equivocation, they can also be a reminder that we are doing unto others what we condemn as evil when it is done unto us. In an especially brutal essay, Macdonald points out how the Nazis never had the equipment to bomb civilians on anywhere near the scale the Allies did, but if they’d had the means to do so they surely would have. Often possessing the means to cause immense harm can become a reason to do so. Something like this logic seems to have been at play when Donald Trump ordered an attack on Venezuela, a nation that is orders of magnitude poorer and less powerful than the United States, while he looked on joyfully at the spectacle of the war crimes he was committing and compared it to a television show. # American Idiots Macdonald may have chosen the “West” over what he saw as the totalitarian “East,” but he was hardly reconciled to how things were. His reflections on American jingoism are especially acute, even if his armchair sociology ought to be taken with a grain of salt. Macdonald tirelessly emphasized that America, despite its self-presentation as the land of the free and exporter of democracy, was a country on a permanent war footing. The United States, he saw, combined a world-historical capacity and appetite for violence with an equally unprecedented unwillingness to think about its own motivations or the impact of its actions. It is this combined ability to inflict enormous suffering while maintaining an equally enormous sense of self-righteousness that defines the outlook of American imperialism. Writing of the US’s wars in Indochina, Macdonald observed that something about our national culture made us capable of what he called “absent-minded genocide.” “‘Sorry about that’ has become the most popular slang phrase used by our troops in Vietnam — ironical, cynical, a little shamefaced.” Later, drawing on Mary McCarthy’s reports on South Vietnam, he describes American officials in unsparing terms. > The picture she gives, in scrupulous detail, is unrelievedly depressing, and all the more so because the American officials she interviewed were often so sincere-and so obtuse. They had the best intentions — we always do — and were quite unconscious of the ruin their simply being there is inflicting on the South Vietnamese, a ruin caused by our civilian as well as our military presence. “Friend, thou has no business here.” It is hard to read these essays today and not think about the United States’ ongoing war on Iran. The past few months have seen the alleged “Peace” president indulge in military adventurism on an alarming scale, bringing the world economy screeching to a halt. In his book _Humane: How the United States Abandoned Peace and Reinvented War_ , Samuel Moyn criticizes those who see America’s war machines as fundamentally lawless. Not because he wants to defend imperialism as a “humane” enterprise carried out by a civilized people, but because dignifying American military intervention with the trappings of law, humanity, and Habermasian communicative rationality helps ideologically justify ever more interventions. The logic of this line of argument, if followed through, is that America is allowed to intervene whenever and forever, because it alone does so with good intentions and through due process. By contrast, the kind of naked interventionism of the Trump administration looks very different. Some people have compared Trump to a neoconservative. There are undeniable similarities, not least the belief that macho imperial power need not bow to any “reality-based” community since it can create its own reality. But the neoconservatives and their Cold War predecessors always felt compelled, as Macdonald and Moyn rightly observe, to pay a modest tribute to virtue by insisting — as bad liars always do — that all the bombs dropped paved the road to democratic peace: a _Chili’s_ on every corner of Baghdad. There is something bracing about the pure avarice and naked “strong do as they will, weak suffer what they must” mentality of the Trump administration’s foreign policy. Whatever is underlying it is no longer motivated by the kind of cloyingly sentimental earnestness Macdonald was familiar with. Although that’s no reason to be nostalgic for the rule fetishists Moyn so carefully described. * * *
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Make Lower Manhattan Socialist Again ### Democratic socialist Illapa Sairitupac is running to represent the New York State Assembly’s 65th District in Lower Manhattan, an area that was once a hotbed of left-wing politics. Jacobin spoke to him about his campaign. * * * Illapa Sairitupac believes that his campaign might be DSA’s chance to win a Manhattan-based seat in the state legislature. (Illapa for New York) New York state’s preelection jockeying has seen a number of legislative seats unexpectedly open up, with cascading effects. Following incumbent state assembly member Grace Lee’s decision to vacate the Lower Manhattan–based Assembly District Sixty-Five to run for State Senate, the New York City chapter of the Democratic Socialists of America (NYC-DSA) tapped Illapa Sairitupac to run. Formerly a candidate for the seat in 2022 and a recent NYC-DSA Electoral Working Group cochair, Sairitupac works as a housing organizer and has long been involved in the chapter’s ecosocialist organizing. Hoping to build on Zohran Mamdani’s victory in the district last year, and boosted by name recognition from his previous run, Sairitupac believes that this election might be DSA’s chance to finally win a Manhattan-based seat in the state legislature. (State Senator Kristen Gonzalez’s district includes a small slice of Manhattan but primarily covers areas of Queens and Brooklyn.) _Jacobin_ sat down with Sairitupac to discuss his second run for office, the housing and climate issues facing the district, and how his campaign fits into the Lower East Side’s socialist tradition. * * * Roman Broszkowski Why do you think you’re a stronger candidate this time around than in 2022? Illapa Sairitupac I’m familiar with so many folks, and thus voters, in this area now. A lot of folks remember me from four years ago, which is very interesting for us. I think it’s a huge — dare I say — leg up in a way this time around. I have cultivated and retained friendships and relationships with local electeds as well in the last couple of years, whereas as a first-time candidate, that was harder to create. I have folks in the Rolodex now, people who are talking about endorsing me, who wouldn’t have endorsed me last time. It’s a much more streamlined process this time in many ways. "This campaign is about showing that even one hundred years later, socialist politics can prevail in Lower Manhattan." Roman Broszkowski You were, until quite recently, the cochair of candidate recruitment for NYC-DSA. Can you explain what the process for candidate recruitment looks like in the chapter? Illapa Sairitupac As cochairs, we were screening possible candidates, making lists, and looking at the terrain for this upcoming cycle, which I’m now a part of. We were mapping out who would be good for this district, who would be good for this area — building off what the previous cochairs were doing but also recruiting new candidates. We looked at folks who were involved in any socialist organizing or labor or Palestine activism, people who were present in their communities, people who were unabashed about being socialist, people who were charismatic, and people who were natural leaders, who we thought would be a good DSA fit. We also experienced the contrary, where we would find a person that we thought would be good, and then when we tried to recruit them, they would say, “No, no, no,” and they would turn us down. Because they understood that to run for office — there’s a gravity to it, a seriousness, and they didn’t want to do it. And we get it: it’s a huge ask. So we met with many candidates, and there were some races that didn’t materialize, because ultimately the candidate would decide not to do it. Roman Broszkowski How do you think that you fit into that larger strategy as a candidate? Illapa Sairitupac I sincerely did not think I’d ever run again. I was kind of retired, actually. And this late [opening] was quite the shock for everyone. We didn’t think that the incumbent, Grace Lee, would leave the seat at this time. So it caused a domino effect; we had an opening. As the other candidates started to emerge in this race, and as we ran the numbers and looked at how good this could be for us, I was asked to run again. I said no a few times, but then I decided, “Okay, let’s try this one more time.” I think I’m stronger now. I can bring a lot to the table now that maybe I couldn’t have last time. And we have over three thousand positive IDs going into this race that we want to recapture. So it felt very viable. But again, I took it very seriously. I really wanted to think about it, to think about who else might want to do this as a DSA member. And also, to be frank, to have run a very strong campaign last time and given it all to lose . . . it sucks. It’s not something you want to risk having to experience again. Sairitupac campaigning in the Lower East Side. (Courtesy of Roman Broszkowski) But as I thought about it, as I talked with my comrades and other folks I trust in the neighborhood, I decided that this is winnable, that it’s much more favorable than last time. Last time, we competed against someone who had just run the previous cycle. She had already built her name recognition, which was hard to overcome. This time, we just feel stronger and better situated to win. Roman Broszkowski You are one of three DSA-endorsed candidates in Manhattan this cycle, along with state assembly candidates Conrad Blackburn and Darializa Avila Chevalier. Why do you think DSA has struggled to break through in Manhattan compared to Queens or Brooklyn? Illapa Sairitupac Manhattan is tricky. There are enclaves in Manhattan that are conservative and not open to the idea of socialism. If we’re going to have a good shot at winning, it’s going to be downtown or uptown; it’s not going to be midtown. So we are going to keep cracking at it. Conrad is an amazing organizer. I haven’t met Darializa, but she’s amazing as well. And regarding Lower Manhattan, it has a radical immigrant history. In the early 1900s, the Lower East Side was a hotbed for socialist politics, mostly arising from the harsh tenement conditions and low wages that radicalized the workers, many of them Jewish immigrants from Eastern Europe. This campaign is about showing that even one hundred years later, socialist politics can prevail in Lower Manhattan. I always say socialism in this country was born in this district, in the Lower East Side. Roman Broszkowski Why do you think that the Lower East Side is ready for a DSA representative? Illapa Sairitupac Zohran [Mamdani] overperformed here, but also, I did a lot of door-knocking for my campaign, for Zohran’s campaign, and for my job, and I see a lot of hunger for this kind of politics — for housing rights, for leftist ideals. We’re seeing it now in my campaign again and in the interactions we’re having with the petitioning — and that people remember me from four years ago, which is always a nice surprise. I think the moment is now. And are we going to win the whole district? Probably not. Are we hoping to win a lot of the district, so we can win the election? Yes. And that entails being out there and making good on our previous campaigns, whether it be Zohran’s or mine or Tax the Rich or my housing rights organizing. Roman Broszkowski You’ve spoken about housing rights both in this campaign and your previous campaign. Very few politicians and elected officials in New York, and elsewhere in the country, are renters, and we’ve seen a push for more renter-focused politics. Why do you think it’s important to have elected officials who are renters? Illapa Sairitupac It’s a lived experience. It gives us an innate solidarity and recognition — a familiarity — with the circumstances of our neighbors. . . . The housing movement has shown me so many folks who are like me in different ways and also immigrants who are going through housing issues as well in the Lower East Side. "Every single day I’m fighting bad landlords in this neighborhood. I look forward to them sending out mailers against me, as they did last time." Housing is a really important issue that I would be a champion on. Every single day I’m fighting bad landlords in different ways in this neighborhood; I’m probably on their lists as an enemy. I look forward to them sending out mailers against me when the time is right, probably in June or so, as they did last time. Roman Broszkowski Given this moment, when DSA is on the rise and now contesting more races at once than it has before, what do you see as your role in pushing forward the socialist project in general? And how do you view DSA’s role as an organization in pushing forward that project in New York state? Illapa Sairitupac I want to be a socialist rep downtown; I want to be a face of socialism down here. We haven’t had a socialist legislator here in about a hundred years. We have some liberals, and we have folks who are conservative Dems in power, but that’s not good enough. I’m hoping that we can win this time to actualize socialist politics down here and show folks what can be done. I am a Spanish speaker, a son of immigrants, and a queer person. And I think it’d be good to have that kind of tradition as well down here, as someone who’s very active, a real local organizer, who will be legislating alongside an amazing bloc of socialists up in Albany. As for DSA’s role right now, we’ve got to keep growing, we’ve got to keep leveling up, we’ve got to keep expanding. It is the moment now to strike. We have a huge slate — we’ve never had a slate this big before, with a total of ten challengers. And we’d be remiss not to swing big this time. Sairitupac says he wants to be a face of socialism in Lower Manhattan. (Courtesy of Roman Broszkowski) We’ve got to keep growing our presence in Albany and working together. Even when we only had four or five legislators in Albany, they were still kicking ass. The minute that we got them in the state legislature, we started seeing things changing. That was a very stark realization for me to see that, oh, we can cause change. We work here locally to get them elected, and immediately we start seeing things change in Albany. That’s the DSA difference: being fearless and espousing our socialist ideals and positions in a liberal world, where politicians are very fearful and hesitant and kind of twiddling their thumbs. That’s not good enough anymore; it never was. Roman Broszkowski Ecosocialism is a big part of your campaign and who you are as an organizer. In your previous campaign, you spoke about the flood risk in Lower Manhattan and the effect that Hurricane Sandy and other storms have had. And in the last four years, climate change has gotten worse. Illapa Sairitupac I always say as an indigenous person, fighting for Pachamama, Mother Earth, was kind of the catalyst or the origin for me in terms of my climate movement work, my climate organizing. Lower Manhattan is always on the front lines for extreme weather due to climate change. If we don’t do things properly, we’ll be underwater in a hundred years. It’s a grave thing that I think about a lot. Which is why when I first joined DSA, the Ecosocialist Working Group was one of first groups I gravitated toward because it had a bill it was pushing [the Build Public Renewables Act] — it had amazing ideas in it and it was winnable. That was my home for the first several years in my journey. We have to get off fossil fuels, we have to get off National Grid and ConEdison. I don’t know why we’re still using these dirty fossil fuels. I don’t know why there are these generators in working-class neighborhoods, which give kids and folks who live around there asthma. It’s a sick system. We need the New York Power Authority to build and operate new renewable energy, to achieve 70 percent renewable energy by 2030 and 100 percent zero-emission energy by 2040. It’s very ambitious, but it’s doable. "Lower Manhattan is always on the front lines for extreme weather due to climate change." I have talked to so many neighbors about their concerns about being on the waterfront. There’s a new flood wall/park system being built down here called the East Side Coastal Resiliency project. I’ve been visiting the park; it’s pretty state of the art, and we’re hoping that this holds and this meets the moment. But it can’t be just that, right? It has to be legislation to give us clean power, clean energy — to mandate that all state-owned properties be brought on to 100 percent renewable energy by 2030. And also a just transition for workers, requiring the projects to operate under collective bargaining in these new green-power jobs. Roman Broszkowski In your previous campaign, you mentioned that you opposed the borough-based jail plan. Do you still oppose that? And if so, do you have a proposal or plan for closing down Rikers and reallocating beds? Illapa Sairitupac They’re building a jail in Chinatown in my district, and I was pretty open about opposing that. We lost that fight. So at this point, I would say if it could at least be humane, if we could at least mitigate the harm, that’s super important. I know that Rikers has been a real issue for years — inmates being abused on so many different levels — and we’ve got to figure out a way to close it. As a mental health social worker, I was working with many folks who were going through the system, in and out, and seeing how these are folks that slipped through the cracks. We need to have more mental health care. And we have to champion the working class that often is populating these jails and these prisons, and find a more equitable way to address [crime and public safety]. The fact that [punishment] is being monetized, the fact that these folks are doing labor [to generate money for the state], is completely contrary to my vision as a socialist. * * *
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Japan Is Building a War Machine in the East China Sea ### Japan’s conservative leader, Takaichi Sanae, won a supermajority of seats in this year’s general election. Takaichi and her allies are using this position of strength to advance a dangerous militarist agenda as part of Washington’s anti-China front. * * * Eighty years after suffering devastating defeat in war, Japan again stands at a crossroads, facing a choice over whether to maintain and consolidate the US-led global anti-China front or to commit to building a peaceful East Asian community of nations. (Alex Wong / Getty Images) Less than six months after her assumption of office as Japan’s 104the (and first female) prime minister, and two months since her rise was confirmed by a resounding victory in a national election, the grip of Takaichi Sanae on the levers of state is unchallenged, and her support level remains high. However, thoughtful and historically aware commentators are speculating that a fundamental transition of the state might be underway, one from “peace state” to “war state.” Looking back to the Konoe Fumimaro government of 1937, which in retrospect we can see as taking the steps that led to a catastrophic war four years later, they fear that Takaichi might be replaying that scenario. # Supermajority On February 8, 2026, the Japanese people went to the polls for an election to the lower house of the National Diet. It was generally taken to be a test of the latest government led by the Liberal Democratic Party (LDP), formed in October 2025. With the party leader Takaichi enjoying support levels of around 70 percent, the election outcome was scarcely in doubt, but its scale still took many by surprise. Takaichi took the LDP from 198 seats (short of the 233 needed for a parliamentary majority) to 316 seats, giving the LDP a two-thirds supermajority. "The election outcome was scarcely in doubt, but its scale still took many by surprise." She confronted an opposition led by the mildly reformist Centrist Reform Alliance (CRA), a new force formed through a merger of the former Constitutional Democratic Party and the neo-Buddhist Komeito, a long-standing coalition partner of the LDP. Having set out to increase its Diet strength, the CRA suffered instead a humiliating loss, dropping from 167 to forty-nine seats. In the long history of the LDP from its foundation in 1955, no leader had ever performed quite so brilliantly as Takaichi. She emerged from the election with political power greater even than her sometime mentor, Abe Shinzo. Her supermajority in the Diet meant that, unlike previous LDP governments, she could press confidently ahead with her rightist agenda, including steps for constitutional revision. However, this electoral victory did not necessarily reflect overwhelming national support. The 56 percent turnout was the fifth-lowest in the postwar era. In the single-member constituency seats, the LDP won 49 percent of votes cast, while in the regional party-list seats, it took just 37 percent. Such are the vagaries of the electoral system that the support of 28 percent of all those eligible to vote was sufficient to gain the party two-thirds of all seats. # End of the “Peace State”? Eight decades have now passed since the collapse in 1945 of Japan’s Asia-Pacific community, the so-called “Greater East Asia Co-Prosperity Sphere,” and the message that many Japanese people took from that catastrophe was clear. Under Article Nine of the constitution adopted in 1946, Japan pledged to renounce “war as a sovereign right of the nation and the threat or use of force as means of settling international disputes,” adding that “land, sea, and air forces . . . will never be maintained.” Although periodic polls always show strong popular support for Article Nine, Japan did nevertheless over time build formidable land, sea, and air forces, evading the constitutional proscription by calling them “Self-Defense Forces” (SDF). The pacifist pledge, unrevised but steadily emptied of content, remains, but the 1946 aspiration to create a new kind of state, one resting on the “peace” principle, was largely forgotten. Over subsequent decades, the United States came to regret its recrafting of Japan as a “peace state” and began exerting pressure on it to revive and expand its military. "The United States came to regret its recrafting of Japan as a ‘peace state’ and began exerting pressure on it to revive and expand its military." The level of Japanese military spending rose steadily throughout the Cold War, though remaining for long within the self-imposed limit of 1 percent of GDP. The size of Japan’s economy meant that this was still a large amount in absolute terms. However, as GDP growth slowed, in 2022 the level doubled to 2 percent, with an overall target of 43 trillion yen (US$355 billion) for the five-year period from 2022 to 2027. Roughly on schedule to reach that target, military spending for the first time surpassed nine trillion yen ($58 billion) in 2025. Under Takaichi, we can expect further steady expansion. If we assume that Japan will be an early adopter of NATO’s target of 3.5 percent of GDP for military expenditure, the nine trillion would blow out to 24 trillion yen — roughly $140 billion. This is a staggering sum that would require drastic cuts to health, education, and welfare budgets. If it goes further by adopting NATO’s second target of 5 percent by 2035, which Donald Trump is believed to be demanding of Japan, the sums involved beggar the imagination. Eventually, and especially under the Abe Shinzo government in office from 2012 to 2020, Article Nine–based restrictions were swept aside, spending accelerated, and Japanese and US military forces were reinforced and integrated. After taking office in October 2025, Takaichi promised further, substantial increases in maritime and air defense (including long-range hypersonic missiles), along with a commitment to construction and deployment of a missile defense umbrella, to be known as a Synchronized, Hybrid, Integrated, Enhanced, Littoral Defense (SHIELD) system. One of Takaichi’s closest advisers late in 2025 even questioned the commitment to “Three Nonnuclear Principles” — nonpossession, nonmanufacture, and nonadmission of nuclear weapons to Japanese territory — that the LDP government adopted in 1967. The prime minister herself is reported to agree and has been reviewing the “three nons” policy. Those who celebrated the Washington-Tokyo alliance as “the cornerstone of peace and security in the Indo-Pacific region” took it for granted that Japan would exercise “bold leadership” and that Japan’s forces would constitute a significant component reinforcing US global dominance. Over and under the East China Sea, battleships and aircraft carriers, missile and countermissile systems, fighter jets and submarines — not only Japanese and American, but also British, French, Australian, Canadian, and German — are stepping up their rehearsal of a possible future war between a US-led coalition of the willing and China. Under such conditions, it is unthinkable that Japan’s heavily armed forces could ever operate independently. They constitute in effect a “second US Army.” # Okinawa A significant US military presence — approximately 26,000 US personnel, or half the total stationed in Japan — is positioned on Okinawa Island, where attention focuses on the hugely unpopular and still hotly contested Henoko base being built there by Japan for the US Marine Corps to replace the obsolescent Futenma. Meanwhile, Japan over the past decade has steadily expanded its own military presence on its lesser-known islands. Under strong US pressure, it has deployed, or is in the process of deploying, missile and countermissile units in a series of new and under-construction bases, decisively changing the character of the Ryukyu island chain that stretches from Kagoshima to Taiwan. The size and population of these islands range from Mage (area 8.5 square kilometers, population zero) to Okinawa itself (area 1,206 square kilometers, population 1.4 million). In geographical terms, a line drawn from Kagoshima City in western Japan to the northern shores of Taiwan passes through these islands. Japan and the United States appear to believe that, if or when the need arises, they can “bottle up” China and deny it access to the Pacific Ocean. "Japan and the US appear to believe that, if or when the need arises, they can ‘bottle up’ China and deny it access to the Pacific Ocean." Japan’s southwestern frontier islands of Mage and Yonaguni deserve particular attention. Mage in the north is closest to Kagoshima, while the sparsely populated Yonaguni in the south is just 110 kilometers from the coast of Taiwan. Mage, which is adjacent to the Japanese space industry island of Tanegashima, was initially chosen to house US carrier-based fighter jet takeoff and landing exercises. This gradually evolved into a project to accommodate all three of Japan’s military forces (Ground, Sea, and Air SDFs) together with unspecified numbers of their US counterparts. The project would be under the auspices of an arrangement that ensures ultimate Pentagon coordination, control, and command of Japanese military operations throughout the adjacent seas. From 2021, a six-thousand-strong workforce was mobilized to this remote island site, and the date for completion of the base construction works was moved forward to 2030. Yonaguni is close enough to Taiwan that on a clear day, its mountains can be seen. Occasional Taiwanese friendship missions have landed on Yonaguni beaches from motorized jet skis. The community split over the government’s commitment to install a major military installation on the island, although a February 2015 island referendum did not win enough support to block the plan. A site was chosen, and in March 2016, an initial 160-strong Ground SDF unit marched in. Mage and Yonaguni, both once renowned for the richness of their biodiversity, thus have become centers for the preparation and conduct of war. Military facilities of one kind or another soon followed on the other islands. # Filling in the Blanks Throughout the Cold War decades, what distinguished the southwestern islands (other than Okinawa itself) was the absence of US military installations. Undefended, they posed no threat and were themselves unthreatened. Those who knew the islands in their premilitary base days — this author among them — remember them as idyllic. But to bureaucrats and SDF top brass in Tokyo, not to mention the Pentagon, the absence of such military forces gradually became of paramount concern in national defense doctrine. The raison d’être for these Okinawan islands became their positions as US-Japan bastions from which to project force in the service of the regional and global hegemonic project. "Throughout the Cold War decades, what distinguished the southwestern islands (other than Okinawa itself) was the absence of US military installations." The nominal reason for the militarization of the “first island chain” is to defend Taiwan in case of a “contingency.” This is the euphemistic sobriquet by which war over Taiwan between China and Taiwan has come to be contemplated since Abe Shinzo’s statement (repeated by Takaichi in 2025) that “a Taiwan contingency would be a Japan contingency.” The broader role assigned to the first island chain is to position US-Japan power in a place where it can contain a rising China in the region that has come to be known as the Indo-Pacific. The United States insists on its own “full-spectrum dominance,” meaning global economic, technological, and military hegemony. To the extent that it challenges (or appears to challenge) that prerogative, China “threatens” the US. A sane defense policy for a country such as Japan — or indeed for any country — would surely be one that attached highest importance to avoiding dispute and building cooperation, rather than striving to “win.” Any East Asian war today or tomorrow would be a missile war, involving naval and air power, and could conceivably become nuclear. Missile and antimissile units are now being installed on the southwestern islands, including four hundred “off the shelf” Tomahawk Land Attack Missiles for which Japan placed an order late in 2022. Such missiles are said to be capable of attacking forces within a 1,500-kilometer radius (including major centers in Russia, China, and North Korea). Regardless of who “wins” such a war, damage and devastation would be assured for all sides. Contemplating such catastrophe, Okinawans recall their sacrifice in the spring of 1945 in the final battle of the Pacific War, which took the lives of more than one-fourth of the Okinawan population. Japan’s authorities might issue an “alert” warning in case of conflict breaking out, as was done on the occasion of several recent North Korean missile launches. But in the 2020s, just as in 1945, there would simply be no time for the Okinawan civilians to withdraw to safety, and indeed nowhere for them to go. # A Peace Community Ironically, the Okinawa now being militarized and readied for war with China has a five-hundred-year-long history of friendly interchange between the Ryukyu Kingdom and the Ming and Qing China dynasties. The Okinawan people do not share the militaristic Japanese Bushido ethic. There is no evidence of the Chinese resorting to violence in their relations with the Ryukyu authorities over the course of those centuries, and the exchanges are still remembered and celebrated in Naha today. "The Okinawan people do not share the militaristic Japanese Bushido ethic." In contrast, Okinawa’s incorporation into the modern Japanese state was accompanied with great violence, from the torture-induced assent by Ryukyu Kingdom elites to the absorption of the Ryukyu Kingdom and its territories into Japan in 1879. This was followed by violent attempts to crush the distinctive Okinawan language and identity and by the catastrophe of 1945, when Okinawa alone among Japanese territories suffered the horror of land war. The violence continues, with an ongoing assault from the contemporary Japanese state trying to break the Okinawan will for a nonmilitarized East China Sea community. Under successive prefectural governors, the realization has grown that in order to overcome the threat of war, it is necessary to shift the emphasis from preparing for war to creating peace. This author recalls discussions with former Okinawan governor Ōta Masahide, in office from 1990 to 1998, on the need to combat East China Sea militarist agendas by taking the initiative in building an East China Sea peace community. Unfortunately, that suggestion went nowhere — shortly after our conversation, an intense campaign by the national government drove Governor Ōta from office. Yet the urgency of taking such steps is so much greater now than it was during Ōta’s term of office. # Dynamics of War However much Japan under Takaichi scrimps and shifts resources from social services to its military, the logic of the bottom line is inexorable. The Japan that as recently as 1994 accounted for 17.8 percent of global GDP has now shrunk to just 3.4 percent after a long period of economic stagnation. Meanwhile, China’s GDP, having been one-quarter of Japan’s in 1991, surpassed it in 2001 and quadrupled it in 2018. The gap has continued to widen since then. With the size of China’s economy now amounting to four times that of Japan’s and its share of world economic output, according to the CIA, a formidable 19 percent, the absurdity — not to speak of the criminality — of any US-Japan design to take down such a country is plain. Eighty years after suffering devastating defeat in war, Japan again stands at a crossroads, facing a choice — of which its citizens are largely unaware — over whether to maintain and consolidate the US-led global anti-China front or to commit to building a peaceful East Asian community of nations. With her supermajority in the lower house of the Diet, most observers anticipate that Takaichi will press ahead with her long-term dream of constitutional change, deleting or at least fundamentally revising Article Nine. "However much Japan under Takaichi scrimps and shifts resources from social services to its military, the logic of the bottom line is inexorable." The post–World War II Asia-Pacific settlement thus continues to morph from the 1947 declaration of peace toward a dynamic of war and war preparation. China, outraged by US-Japanese-led attempts to freeze it out of regional and global institutions, pours a high proportion of its formidable and rapidly growing resources into its military, reinforcing its presence in the East and South China Seas in particular. Meanwhile, Japan deploys tanks and missiles to its remote islands, conducts evacuation drills, and urges local residents to make contingency plans for war. The US Marine Corps “repurposes” its Okinawa-based units, facilitating their deployment to other islands and arming them with antiship missiles for use against Chinese shipping in the event of any Taiwan “contingency.” In October 2025, Takaichi had Donald Trump’s enthusiastic support as she ascended to high office in Tokyo. Once in office, she positioned herself as his faithful servant, committed to “making America great again.” One of her first tasks was to put together an enormous “aid” package worth $550 billion (approximately 80 trillion yen) to assist the Trump project and to further Japan’s clientelist incorporation into his emerging global order, opening the door for a “new golden era” (Trump’s words last October). Takaichi was the only leader of the old G7 who had no word of criticism of the joint US/Israeli war on Iran this year, and she alone seemed to have no compunction about issuing a grovelling public pledge to nominate Trump for the Nobel Peace Prize. Probably no one in the world could share the sentiment expressed by Takaichi on sitting beside the president in the Oval Office on March 19: “It is only you, Donald, who can bring peace and prosperity to the world.” In this scenario, Japan would be an unquestionable military superpower, number three in the world after the United States and China. Regional states with reason to know, fear, and remember Japanese militarism, Australia included, show little if any interest in Japanese constitutional matters. To the extent they are aware of it at all, they dismiss Article Nine as a quixotic survival from a bygone age. With the constitution steadily sidelined, Japan is already one of the world’s “great” military powers. Paradoxically, the more it builds up its “defenses,” trusting its destiny to the genocidal rogue superpower, the less secure it becomes. As the constitutional peace state of 1946 morphs into a military superpower, it is surely time that civic groups in Japan and Australia (and other Pacific Rim countries) joined to shift their governments from the war path and toward one of peaceful cooperation. If anything is to be done with Article Nine, it should be to restate, reinforce, and universalize the peace principle, not to delete or dilute it. * * *
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The Left Needs an Alternative Cosmopolitanism ### While many critics view rising global chaos strictly in geopolitical terms, political philosopher Lea Ypi argues that it’s really ideological — the result of an increasingly coordinated global right. To compete, the Left must internationalize in equal measure. * * * At the annual May Day march in London, demonstrators held sunflowers as a show of solidarity. (Dan Kitwood / Getty Images) The standard critique of the liberal international order comes from the Right these days: the nation-state is supreme, global institutions are a racket, and cosmopolitan elites have sold out ordinary people. The standard defense comes from liberals who conflate the internationalism of the postwar order with the economic system it upholds and defend them both at once. Not satisfied with either position, political theorist Lea Ypi instead urges us to develop what she calls an alternative cosmopolitanism — a left-wing internationalism equipped to meet the challenges of escalating inequality, rising authoritarianism, and spiraling war. Ypi is the Ralph Miliband Professor of Politics and Philosophy at the London School of Economics. She grew up in communist Albania and lived through its collapse as a child, an experience she chronicled in her memoir _Free: Coming of Age at the End of History_. Her most recent book, _Indignity: A Life Reimagined_ , likewise mines her family history to illuminate the interwar rise of fascism. Ypi’s writing integrates personal content with insights from her work in political philosophy — particularly reflections on liberals’ and socialists’ shared value of freedom and its many historical betrayals. In this conversation with _Jacobin’s_ Meagan Day, Ypi argues that the global right-wing surge is not best understood as a geopolitical realignment but as an ideological convergence, one that mirrors the interwar period in unsettling ways. She dissects the distinction between conservatism and fascism, explains why MAGA’s radicalization follows a recognizable logic of escalation, and makes the case that migration is fundamentally a class issue, not a cultural one. Ypi also draws on her family’s history to argue that the Left needs to reckon honestly with the twin failures, rooted in the limitations of the nation-state, of state socialism and social democracy, both of which she traces to the limitations of the nation-state, if we hope to build a left politics adequate to the scale of the present crisis. * * * Meagan Day Given the mayhem currently unfolding in Iran, it makes sense to start with the breakdown of the geopolitical order. As we watch the postwar institutions fracture or confront their own impotence — the United Nations, the Bretton Woods institutions, the whole architecture of liberal internationalism — do you think we are witnessing a failure of those institutions or the exposure of the fact that they never really delivered what they promised? Lea Ypi A combination of the two. There is a story about those institutions that says they were always at the service of colonial patterns and a particular economic system, serving elites in the rich countries against the poorer parts of the world. But those institutions were also the result of efforts to counter the exclusionary tendencies of liberalism. They didn’t fully realize their stated value of universal freedom, but they represented an ongoing fight to extend it. What we have now is a breakdown that people tend to understand in purely geopolitical terms — the rise of China, the crisis of the US’s relationship to Europe. But what we are really seeing is geopolitical conflict driven by ideological alignment: the rise of a right-wing worldview centered on the supremacy of the nation-state. It is ethnocentric, ethnonationalist, and rooted in a critique of liberal cosmopolitan elites. "What we are seeing is geopolitical conflict driven by ideological alignment: the rise of a right-wing worldview centered on the supremacy of the nation-state." This is a phenomenon you find in Europe, the Middle East, and the United States. It’s an ideological alignment on the Right, centered on the perspective that might is right, the strong do what they have to do, and the weak suffer what they must. Meagan Day Is something new emerging on the global right, ideologically? Or is this similar to how the Right has always looked, only newly emboldened and unleashed? Lea Ypi It’s very similar to the critique of liberal cosmopolitan elites that you would have found on the Right in the interwar period, when fascism was rising. A lot of people think fascism is just conservatism, but it also has a constructive understanding of where it wants the world to be, a critique of liberal internationalism that was already there after World War I and the financial crisis. What’s different now is that this seems to be the hegemonic critique of liberal capitalism and globalization. In the interwar period, you had another reading that was also a critique of capitalism and international liberalism, but coming from the Left, from a class perspective. Today the criticism of the status quo is coming overwhelmingly from the Right, with the mainstream left still struggling to recover its own critique of capitalism. Meagan Day Can you flesh out the distinction between conservatism and fascism? Lea Ypi It’s a distinction in methods. Fascism is a kind of revolutionary conservatism. It feels that the departure from the status quo needs to be more radical, because the status quo is too committed to liberal assumptions. Conservatism takes more of a reformist route — commitments to traditional values and customs but not this idea that you need to break the world to remake it according to some vision of the nation, civilizational superiority, and racial homogeneity that underpins a lot of fascist thinking. Whereas in conservatism you find more compromise with the liberal order, fascism has a much more destructive and creative energy. There is a Nietzschean understanding of the relationship between morality and power in fascism that is very different from liberal universalism. Fascism, at its core, is committed to the idea that power justifies itself and that moral claims to the contrary are just the complaints of the weak. Meagan Day Would you say that the rise of Trumpism and figures like Viktor Orbán and Jair Bolsonaro is evidence of a rising fascist tide? Lea Ypi They come out of different predicaments. Orbán comes out of the failure of liberal cosmopolitanism in Eastern Europe, the financial crisis, and the shock therapy of the ’90s, while Trump and Bolsonaro emerge from their own histories. But these trajectories, which start very differently, all seem to be converging toward a more utopian fascist direction. I don’t think MAGA actually starts out fascist. There’s a process of radicalization. These movements need a utopian vision in order to explain why they’re not delivering on policy. Why are costs and prices still so high even though you’re in power? You need long-term ideological misdirection to justify it to your constituencies — an ever-more exclusive utopia of hierarchy. Meagan Day I was just reading about a minor scandal in American politics: the Miami Young Republicans had a group chat leak, and in it, right-wing college students are sharing memes about the esoteric Hitlerist Julius Evola and Heinrich Himmler’s concept of Agartha — very niche, occult fascist concepts. To your point, I don’t think that is in MAGA’s DNA. I think that is absolutely an ideological escalation. Lea Ypi Exactly. And as I was studying the rise of fascism in the 1920s and ’30s for my last book, you find a similar ideological escalation. When we think about Hitler and the Nazis now, we think about the high point: the Holocaust, the concentration camps. But in the first years of Hitler’s power, liberals who had been concerned about him were saying, “Well, he forced his people to take down the anti-Jewish writings because he understood his base had gone too far.” People were reassured: “It’s not as bad as it looks.” Even in the case of Nazi Germany, there were processes of concessions and withdrawals, a dialectic responding to events as they unfolded. Meagan Day There’s almost nothing more chilling than drilling down into the escalation of fascism in Germany and noting how ordinary people found themselves like lobsters in a boiling pot. How much credence do you give to the parallels with the interwar period? Lea Ypi I think there are real parallels. The right-wing fascist escalation is a response to liberal capitalist crisis. That was true in the ’20s, and it’s true now. History won’t repeat itself in exactly the same way, but we can read the rise of the Right as a response to the failures of social democracy on the one hand and liberal capitalism on the other, as was the case in the ’20s and ’30s. "The right-wing fascist escalation is a response to liberal capitalist crisis. That was true in the ’20s, and it’s true now." Meagan Day You also had an empowered left in the interwar period, and arguably today you do not. Lea Ypi Yes and no. The Spanish Civil War was the last moment in which you had real left internationalism. After that, the Left was committed — in both its socialist and social democratic forms — to the nation-state. And in that sense, it’s not a project that can adequately respond to this crisis, which is ultimately a transnational crisis. What you have now is the inability of the Left to create a broad international front with a clear vision of where it wants to take its critique of capitalism. Meagan Day Meanwhile, the Right seems to be very effectively weaving together a cohesive international project. Lea Ypi Yes, and it had already started doing that when it was not in power. Think of Steve Bannon and the role he played in connecting the various right-wing movements in Europe and America — there was already broad transnational mobilization around this ideology of the nation and the state. They were able to say that capitalism is transnational and, therefore, any effort to criticize it from the Right also needs to be transnational. These characters went around forming networks: think tanks, news platforms, individual figures who were the connecting links. They weren’t waiting to be in power. Meagan Day What accounts for the Left’s relative failure to replicate this? Lea Ypi The abandonment of the critique of capitalism as a class project. You have the environmentalist left, the feminist left, the anti-racist left, and there’s been a critique of universalism that has made it difficult to connect these identity-based struggles into one vision. Paradoxically, the Left has inherited the same culturalist approach that the Right takes to understanding conflict — saying it’s about racism or gender without fitting those critiques into a critique of the broader mode of production. What the Left really lacks is an alternative cosmopolitanism. When I was a student in the late ’90s and early 2000s in Italy, that was the moment of the alter-globalization movement. You had the World Social Forum in Porto Alegre, the emerging idea of an alternative globalization. But that movement was suffocated by the hegemony of neoliberalism, which insisted that you didn’t need another politics, you just needed the right policy. All you had to do was cater to the Third Way: policy fixes, a little redistribution, compromise with economic elites. "Those of us who were on the streets were seen as ridiculous romantics who didn’t understand that the Cold War was over and there was no alternative." Those of us who were on the streets were seen as ridiculous romantics who didn’t understand that the Cold War was over and there was no alternative. That’s what we lost, and that’s what we’re struggling to recover. Meagan Day The Left has been suspicious of the nation-state for good reason. But in recent history, it’s largely been within this context that the weak have been able to express their power. Is there anything redeeming about the nation-state? Lea Ypi Pragmatically, yes, because the nation-state is the site of coercive power. If you want to take and exercise power, you need to know where it resides. Otherwise, the social struggle just remains everywhere and nowhere. But the reason people pinned so much hope on the nation-state was that in the 1920s and ’30s, you had the nation against the empire. Nationalism was a progressive force in the struggle against the imperial order, against churches and monarchies that had zero democratic representation. That’s why it was presented as progressive in the left-wing debates of the period, the writings of [Vladimir] Lenin and [Rosa] Luxemburg and so on. But now the empire is over. The nation-state is itself a representative of the old order. Nationalism is no longer progressive even in its most favorable articulation. It’s just the exclusion of the other. People want to make distinctions between ethnic and civic nationalism, but ultimately when there is a border, there is a difference between who is in and who is out. It’s inevitably exclusionary. We are at a different moment, and we need a different kind of analysis. Meagan Day On that point, how should the Left position itself when speaking to a public that has serious anxieties about migration? Lea Ypi First, we need to change the discourse away from the moralization of migration. A lot of the left-wing discussion goes: borders are arbitrary, freedom of movement is a basic right, why can’t people move freely? It’s conducted at such a moralistic level that it’s hard to distinguish the liberal defense of migrants from the left-wing one. Migration is only a problem when it happens in asymmetrical power relations, as from the Global South to the Global North. Nobody worries about migration from Canada to the United States or from Australia to Great Britain. We only worry about migration when it reflects broader asymmetries of power. And those asymmetries are themselves the result of war, economic crisis, and environmental breakdown. Migration is a consequence, not a cause. If you really want to solve the problem, you have to intervene at the level of its causes. And that’s where the Right doesn’t have an answer. “We must make our own country great again at others’ expense” can only result in more war, more crisis, and more disaster around the world — and, consequently, more migration. It’s also really important to bring out the class dimension. Borders have never been more open for some people and more closed for others than they are now, even in places where the Right is in power. When Trump was posting those images of people in chains being deported, he was simultaneously boasting about how easy it was for Russian oligarchs to get investor visas. "Migration is only a problem when it happens in asymmetrical power relations — and those asymmetries are themselves the result of war, economic crisis, and environmental breakdown." The golden visas, the citizenship-by-investment programs — the Right has been completely willing to open borders for the wealthy. So if the concern is really about cultural mixing and integration, why does migration become so easy for some people and so difficult for others who come from the same cultural background? Migration is a question of class, not culture. Meagan Day You grew up around 1989, and your memoir treats it as a very ambiguous turning point rather than a triumphant one. Is there something in the post-communist experience that gives us useful tools for thinking about this moment of instability? Lea Ypi One of the interesting things in the transition literature from the 1990s is the concept of the “triple transition.” Former communist countries had to build market economies, democratic states with structures of legitimation, and resolve the territorial problem, meaning all the nationalist conflicts within multinational units like Yugoslavia and the Soviet Union. Scholars pointed out that you couldn’t have all three at the same time, and that there were no intermediary institutions in those societies — no trade unions, no vibrant civil society, no real parties. What’s fascinating is that people were saying this as though the West was staying constant. They took the best of the West — the golden age of social democracy, constraints on markets, mass-member parties — and said the East needed to catch up. But while they were having these discussions, those intermediary institutions were being completely dismantled in the West. This was the time they were destroying unions, when parties were becoming cartel parties. Everything the East was supposed to pivot toward was being lost. It was an ideological operation that attributed the gains of Western social democracies to liberalism rather than to the labor movement, while at the same time the [Margaret] Thatcher–[Ronald] Reagan era was destroying the labor movement. They were taking credit for what the labor movement had achieved but without the structures that had made those achievements possible. What people had predicted would happen in the East — authoritarian right-wing leaders using cultural issues to distract from economic failures — ended up happening in both the East and the West. The transition went not from East to West but from West to East. Meagan Day I want to pluck out a thread from your interview with Aaron Bastani on Novara Media, which has to do with your family history of persecution under communism and continued identification as socialists afterward. Almost all Americans ever hear on this topic is: “My family lived under communism, they were persecuted, and I am qualified to tell you it can never work.” But many socialists were persecuted under communism and maintained their commitment to socialist values. Can you talk about how that worked in your family? Lea Ypi My grandfather was a social democrat and was persecuted by the Albanian communist leadership for it. But a social democrat of the 1920s and ’30s was different from what we mean by social democracy today. The social democrats of that era didn’t think democracy and capitalism were compatible. Social democracy at its origins was a much more radical project than we now give it credit for. The only real difference between social democrats and communists at the time concerned revolution and, consequently, the relationship between the vanguard and the people. The big discussion between Eduard Bernstein and Rosa Luxemburg was on the method, reform versus revolution, but the goals were the same. The fundamental assumption was that if you wanted real democracy, you needed to contain and eventually overcome capitalism. "Social democracy at its origins was a much more radical project than we now give it credit for." In places like Albania, the project of building socialism was merged with the project of building a nation-state out of the collapse of empire. That meant you didn’t have socialism built with democratic means. You had this weird hybrid: control over markets but no functioning public sphere, no democratic legitimation, no party democracy. It was socialist by some important measures, but it was also very repressive, including to socialists and social democrats who stepped out of line. By contrast, we can imagine a democratic socialism. It’s possible to have a socialist state with a socialist constitution and different kinds of socialist parties, and indeed a multiparty system really helps with legitimation and accountability. So then why do we take that very narrow understanding of what socialism was, typified by examples like Albania, and make it the definitive definition — contrary to all the alternative socialists who were suppressed by the state socialists? People sometimes suggest to me that I must not care about my own family. But I don’t see why caring about my family means siding with those my grandfather always thought were wrong. He always thought capitalism was the problem. The fact that he suffered under communism in Albania didn’t mean capitalism stopped being a problem. Staying true to my roots means not letting his enemies define what socialism means. Meagan Day I think newer socialists are sometimes confused on this point. They’ve discovered their own critique of capitalism, and now the world seems split into two competing camps, and they want to be on the right side. It’s critical to nuance that picture. Lea Ypi Right, when in reality, to rebuild the Left, you need to settle accounts with both failures of the twentieth century: the failure of state socialism and the failure of social democracy in its nation-state-rooted version. State socialism fails because of its weddedness to the nation-state, its lack of democracy, and its neglect of first-generation freedoms such as freedom of movement, association, and expression. You can’t just say, “They had to do it, so it was fine.” Socialism was always about equality, but it was never _only_ about equality; it was always also about freedom. "To rebuild the Left, you need to settle accounts with both failures of the 20th century: the failure of state socialism and the failure of social democracy in its nation-state-rooted version." At the same time, we need to also be really critical of the social democrats and how they compromised with capitalism, and where that led: to the waves of neoliberalism in the ’90s. Both failures are connected to the nation-state. An alternative needs to learn from both. We need to recover the critique of capitalism on the one hand and the critique of the nation-state on the other. The nation-state requires structures of legitimation that don’t work with a critique of transnational capital — capital that operates across the Global North and South, that generates imperialism and conflicts over resources at the global level. Meagan Day What’s on your mind as events unfold in Iran? Lea Ypi War is the logical conclusion of the tendency to respond to political and economic crisis by vowing to make your own country great again. A worldview constructed around the nation-state is necessarily built on the idea that the world belongs to the powerful, and the powerful have a right to destroy everything that doesn’t conform. War is just that logic carried to its end point. But what’s really interesting about this Iran war is that the United States feels no need to morally legitimize it. When you think about the Iraq War, liberal internationalists went to great lengths to explain that it was about international norms, international justice. There was a need for justification beyond the nation-state. The logic wasn’t just sheer naked power. With this war, there is very little of that. Meagan Day That seems to reflect the weakness of liberal institutionalism. We’ve perhaps arrived at the place where the Right can simply have a war on its own terms without appealing to the ethics of the liberal order at all. Lea Ypi Yes. But in defending pacifism, it’s important not to defend it just on the basis that we need to respect the liberal international order — because that order was always flawed and asymmetric. Real pacifism is only possible once you’ve overcome both problems: capitalism on the one hand, and the nation-state as an obstacle to the realization of a socialist world on the other. There is a vision of international institutions that isn’t just defending the institutions we have in their current form. I don’t know that we can lay out a ten-point program for what comes next. You start with an analysis of the present moment and a critique of what went wrong in the past, and from there you build the democratic institutions required to take that critique forward. But I do think it must take the form of an alternative cosmopolitanism. That is the most coherent way of making sense of the conflicts of the globalized world. * * *
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India’s Working Poor Are Being Priced Out of Basic Meals ### For many migrant workers in India, the inability to cook affordably disrupts the economics of city life. As fuel becomes increasingly expensive due to market volatility and supply shocks, families are being forced to ration meals or relocate. * * * India’s shift to market-linked LPG pricing is passing global fuel shocks, exacerbated by the chaos in the Middle East, directly to households. As a result, India’s working poor are forced to ration gas, skip meals, or go without cooking altogether. (Sajad Hameed / Jacobin) New Delhi, INDIA – At the edge of Hazrat Nizamuddin Railway Station, the morning feels heavier than usual. Families cluster along the platform, their belongings packed into cloth bundles and plastic sacks. Children lie half-asleep in their mothers’ laps as announcements echo overhead. Trains heading toward Bihar, Uttar Pradesh, and beyond are running full. Over the past few days, railway workers say, the crowds have grown noticeably thicker. Entire families, most of them daily wage laborers, wait with little more than essentials, as if preparing for a longer absence. “Something is wrong,” says Ab Rahman, thirty-four, a porter, or coolie, who has spent more than a decade navigating these railway platforms. “For four to five days now, there has been a heavy rush — mostly poor workers. They are going back.” There are no official announcements explaining the surge. No single event has triggered it. Across the platform, fragments of conversation point to a quieter pressure of rising costs, shrinking work, and the growing difficulty of sustaining even the most basic routines of life in the city. For many, the crisis is not just about wages or rent. It is about something more immediate: the ability to cook a meal. Among those waiting at the platform is twenty-seven-year-old Ramesh Varma, a street vendor from Bihar’s Barwan Kala village. He had returned to Delhi barely fifteen days ago, hoping to rebuild his earnings. Now he is leaving again. “LPG [liquid petroleum gas] refills were not available on time,” he says, sitting on the platform floor. “We kept waiting, going from one gas agency to another. Even when the gas cylinder comes, the cost is too high.” For many migrant workers, the inability to cook affordably disrupts the fragile economics of city life, where preparing food at home is often the only way to keep daily expenses under control. Varma’s decision captures a growing reality across India’s working-class neighborhoods: as cooking fuel becomes expensive or inaccessible, survival itself becomes uncertain. # Means-Tested LPG and the Crisis Across India’s cities and industrial belts, a basic act of cooking a meal is becoming increasingly precarious for low-income households. In the working-class neighborhoods of Delhi and beyond, families report rising LPG refill costs, irregular access, and delays that make everyday cooking uncertain. This is not a sudden breakdown. It is the result of a longer policy shift now intensified by a global supply shock. Part of that shock reflects spillovers from the conflict in the Middle East. Despite recent ceasefire efforts, geopolitical tensions continue to reverberate through global energy markets, particularly through disruptions around the Strait of Hormuz, a key transit route for crude oil and LPG. According to the International Energy Agency (IEA), these disruptions have tightened global energy supplies and contributed to higher crude and LPG prices, tightening markets for import-dependent countries including India. India’s LPG subsidy bill, which once exceeded 40,000 crore rupees annually in the mid-2010s, fell sharply by 2020–21 before partial restoration in recent years. Government budget data shows LPG subsidy expenditure has fluctuated sharply over the past decade, reflecting a broader shift toward market-linked pricing. A decade after expanding liquefied petroleum gas access, India has left its poorest households exposed to volatile fuel markets, forcing millions to ration gas, skip meals, or abandon city life altogether. (Sajad Hameed / Jacobin) Today LPG subsidies have become increasingly targeted rather than universal. In 2025–26, the government allocated around 12,000 crore rupees to support Pradhan Mantri Ujjwala Yojana (PMUY), a program that subsidizes cooking gas for low-income houses, reflecting a narrower approach to welfare support. For consumers, this translated into a steep rise in refill costs. The price of a standard 14.2 kilogram domestic LPG cylinder, which hovered around 400–500 rupees a decade ago, crossed 1,000 rupees in many cities in the year 2022 before easing slightly to around 850–950 rupees. For low-income households, this remains prohibitively expensive. India depends heavily on LPG imports, making domestic prices highly sensitive to global energy markets and external supply conditions. Fluctuations in international fuel prices and supply disruptions are increasingly passed on directly to households. # The Numbers Behind the Squeeze The pressure on working-class households is not anecdotal but is measurable. While subsidies still exist, many households report receiving little meaningful relief. For a daily wage worker earning 300–500 rupees, a single refill can consume two to three days’ income, making regular use difficult to sustain. Parliamentary data indicates that PMUY beneficiaries use significantly fewer cylinders annually than other consumers, underscoring the affordability constraint. In Sangam Vihar, one of Delhi’s largest informal settlements, Parveena sits outside her one-room house, an empty LPG cylinder resting beside her like a useless object. “For the past few days, we have been running from one gas agency to another,” she says. “We are not getting refills on time. Without gas, we cannot even cook one meal.” Inside the room is quiet. There is no smell of food, no utensils on the stove, no sign of a meal in preparation, but only the stillness of a kitchen that has stopped functioning. A mother of two and a daily wage worker, Parveena has already begun cutting back. “For two days, my children have slept hungry,” she says. “Prices are rising every day. Even if we find LPG, it is too costly. We are poor; how can we pay so much just to cook food?” While India has expanded LPG access significantly over the past decade, sustained usage among low-income households remains uneven. In recent months, that strain has deepened. Reports from multiple states, including Uttar Pradesh and Maharashtra, point to refill delays, long waiting times, and rising dependence on alternative fuels. In some areas, households have begun reverting to firewood and kerosene fuels associated with both poverty and long-term health risks. Parveena’s neighbor notes quietly, “We cannot just leave this place. At least the men find some work here. . . . Somehow we survive with that.” In neighborhoods like these, leaving is rarely a real option. Work is uncertain, but it exists. Survival depends on staying and adjusting. But adjustment has limits. For women in particular, the burden is immediate and physical. When LPG runs out, it is they who must find alternatives like collecting firewood, managing inefficient stoves, or stretching meals across days. # Cooking With Firewood and Kerosene In working neighborhoods across India, families report reducing the number of meals they cook, delaying refills, and stretching cylinders beyond their normal use. “We adjust” is how several workers describe it. Residents say that while LPG connections have expanded significantly over the past decade, sustained usage remains uneven, particularly among low-income households. Faheem, thirty-two, a migrant worker from Gujarat currently working in Bengaluru, describes the situation as disturbing. “We can’t get gas here, and now we are being forced to leave our home,” he says. “Cooking has become difficult, sometimes even impossible, and we don’t know how to manage our house and land anymore. Everything has become too hard.” “Sometimes it’s expensive; sometimes it’s not available at all. Life has really become difficult,” he adds. For many households, alternatives remain out of reach. Electric cooking is often presented as the next step in India’s clean energy transition, but it requires upfront investment in appliances and a reliable electricity supply. For precarious urban and rural households, both remain uncertain. As a result, the transition to cleaner energy is unfolding unevenly, shaped as much by income as by infrastructure. In the outskirts of cities, firewood and kerosene are reappearing as fallback options. _Chulhas_ — traditional Indian stoves once replaced in the name of clean energy — are being used again. Health experts have long warned about the consequences of such reversals. Prolonged exposure to smoke from firewood and biomass fuels is linked to respiratory illnesses, particularly among women and children who spend the most time near cooking spaces. What appears as a short-term coping strategy can carry long-term health costs. Anjali, thirty-three, a mother of two and resident of rural Odisha, says, “Since we are not getting refills on time and sometimes have to wait weeks, we are being pushed back to firewood.” “In our village, most homes once switched to LPG, but nearly 30–40 percent still burn firewood for cooking, even with connections, especially among poorer families.” “The smoke makes our children cough, and my wife spends hours every day tending the chulha,” Arun Kumar, her husband, adds. In the outskirts of cities, firewood and kerosene are reappearing as fallback options for cooking as LPG becomes unaffordable. (Sajad Hameed / Jacobin) # Markets Decide Who Eats Cooking is often treated as a private act, confined to the household. But in reality, it is shaped by forces far beyond it. Who can afford fuel? Who absorbs price shocks? Who is forced to sacrifice? Across India, around 60 percent of households use LPG as their primary cooking fuel, according to government data from 2020–21. Yet in rural areas, a substantial share continues to rely on firewood, dung, or other biomass, even among families with LPG connections.__ Supply gaps, high refill costs, and erratic delivery make consistent usage difficult, pushing households back toward traditional fuels. As the train begins to depart from Hazrat Nizamuddin Railway Station, Ramesh Varma climbs aboard. “I came here to earn,” he says. “But if I cannot even eat, what is the point?” What makes this crisis particularly stark is its invisibility. There are no dramatic shortages, no official declarations of emergency. Instead, it unfolds quietly in skipped meals, in empty cylinders, in families stretching survival beyond its limits. In homes like Parveena’s, the uncertainty continues. Across India, in thousands of kitchens, the same question lingers. For millions of working-class households, the choice is no longer abstract. It is immediate, daily, and shaped by forces far beyond the kitchen: cook — or skip a meal. * * *
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The CBC May Side With Trump on the Surveillance Bill ### Members of the Congressional Black Caucus are staying tight-lipped about whether they will supply the decisive votes needed to pass a Trump-backed bill reauthorizing a warrantless surveillance law exploited by federal police. * * * Members of the Congressional Black Caucus are largely staying silent about how they will vote on the reauthorization of a warrantless surveillance law. (Nathan Posner / Anadolu via Getty Images) Members of the Congressional Black Caucus (CBC) are remaining tight-lipped about whether they will provide the decisive votes to pass a Trump-backed bill reauthorizing a warrantless surveillance law exploited by federal police to spy on Black Lives Matter and other activists. The silence comes even as Democratic leadership and other congressional minority groups have pledged to oppose reauthorization without reform. A House vote on the Foreign Intelligence Surveillance Act (FISA) could come as soon as this week, before the existing law is set to expire on April 20. This Monday, the _American Prospect_ reported that Rep. Gregory Meeks (D-NY), a leading legislator on foreign affairs, successfully lobbied the CBC leadership not to support FISA reform efforts. The _Lever_ has since spoken to an anonymous congressional source backing the _Prospect_ ’s account. But in a statement to the _Lever_ last night, Meeks denied the reporting as “inaccurate.” “I support FISA reauthorization, but the only vote I’ve been whipping is my War Powers Resolution to end the war in Iran,” Meeks said. “Whip operations are traditionally conducted by the Ranking Member of the committee that has jurisdiction over the legislation being considered. Any claim that I’m whipping the CBC on FISA is false.” The battle on Capitol Hill revolves around post-9/11 changes to the 1978 Foreign Intelligence Surveillance Act, which have empowered the FBI to conduct extensive warrantless surveillance since 2008. The provision responsible, Section 702, has been vastly overused: according to the Foreign Intelligence Surveillance Court created under FISA, federal law enforcement misapplied Section 702 nearly 300,000 times between 2016 and 2020 — including for searches of American citizens. Section 702 has given federal law enforcement warrantless access to the communications of protesters, journalists, and a judge, among others. That includes 133 individuals arrested in connection with civil unrest and protests taking place during the summer of 2020. Investigators were in search of “any counterterrorism derogatory information on the arrestees,” despite there being no “specific potential connections to terrorist related activity.” House Minority Leader Hakeem Jeffries (D-NY) said this week that Democrats won’t do Republicans’ bidding on FISA. Speaker Mike Johnson (R-LA) — at the behest of the White House — has insisted on a “clean” bill, without reforming Section 702. That means the GOP has already shed the support of some hard-line conservatives who are against surveillance overreach and is in need of votes. The _Lever_ reached out to the offices of all fifty-nine voting members of the CBC to take a FISA temperature check — and received just one response, from Meeks. The CBC communications office also declined to comment on the FISA vote. The Congressional Hispanic Caucus and the Congressional Asian Pacific American Caucus, meanwhile, have announced their opposition to reauthorizing the law without reform. So has the Congressional Progressive Caucus, which for the first time formally agreed to vote no on FISA reauthorization. A notable CBC member who did not provide a comment to the _Lever_ is Chairwoman Yvette Clarke (D-NY), who has been a steadfast critic of FISA overreach. She voted against the 2008 FISA changes, including the addition of Section 702, arguing they “[tear] apart civil liberties that Americans have relied on.” “Congress is creating a precedent under which we will see the creation of a system that uses the private sector as a de facto spying agency for the government,” Clarke quite presciently said. She then voted against reauthorizing the bill in 2012, 2018, and 2024. “So influential are the intelligence agencies that rely on Section 702 that they have managed to cow a long-standing reformist,” the _American Prospect_ reported __ of Clarke’s silence. They cite the intelligence community’s vast influence in Congress, including an “eleventh-hour” fear campaign waged by the CIA, which last week revealed that Section 702 powers aided in its 2024 takedown of a would-be terrorist attack at a Taylor Swift concert. * * * This article was first published by the Lever, an award-winning independent investigative newsroom.
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ICE Just Signed a $12 Million Deal to Track Migrants With AI ### Immigration and Customs Enforcement has now inked a $12.2 million contract for an artificial intelligence tool that purportedly maps out immigrants’ daily routines, habits, and real-time locations and categorizes them as potential threats. * * * Under the Trump administration, the Department of Homeland Security has been granted a multibillion-dollar slush fund, which it is using to build out its surveillance dragnet. (Matthew Hatcher / Getty Images) Immigration and Customs Enforcement (ICE) just inked a $12.2 million contract for an artificial intelligence tool that claims to map out immigrants’ daily routines, habits, and real-time location and categorize them as potential threats, per procurement records reviewed by the _Lever_. Dubbed “Project SAFE HAVEN,” the product is advertised by defense vendor Edge Ops LLC as a “question-based AI interface” that uses “persistent passive data collection” to map “patterns of life,” a surveillance tactic that ICE says will identify the “habitual locations, routes, and behavioral patterns” of its targets. Additional features of the technology described in procurement documents include real-time location tracking and analysis that will categorize individuals and groups as affiliated with ostensible criminal organizations, such as gangs or cartels. That includes building “target profiles” that track individuals’ activity by linking data obtained from Wi-Fi network connections and mobile smart devices, such as cell phones and smartwatches. A promotional blurb for the tool on Edge Ops LLC’s website claims that Project SAFE HAVEN “transforms the way we identify, locate, and map illegal migrants.” ICE’s purchase of the tool was made public in federal procurement records released this week. Under the Trump administration, the Department of Homeland Security, ICE’s parent agency, has been granted a multibillion-dollar slush fund, which it is using to build out its surveillance dragnet. The agency has already amassed a vast arsenal of surveillance tools that can monitor everything from the location of hundreds of millions of phones to real-time social media content. In this case, Project SAFE HAVEN was purchased specifically for the Homeland Security Task Force National Coordination Center, a hub for information sharing between ICE, the US military, and other federal agencies. A description of Project SAFE HAVEN from Edge Ops LLC’s website. As the _Intercept_ reported in February, little is known about this center’s operations. Testimony from federal officials indicates that the entity serves as the primary coordinating hub for the regional Homeland Security task forces that have proliferated under the Trump administration, and which are supposedly “combating cartels” and other criminal organizations. These task forces involve collaboration between ICE and other federal agencies, including the Pentagon and the FBI. As of last month, ICE had allocated $440 million to the Homeland Security task force program, per Office of Management and Budget records reviewed by the _Lever_. ICE’s plans for Project SAFE HAVEN describe it as the National Coordination Center’s “analytic cell,” which will streamline the intelligence and data being processed by the center’s arms. The procurement documents indicate that Project SAFE HAVEN’s surveillance dragnet may extend far beyond the cartels and gangs that the coordination center is purportedly targeting. The records describe targets that include “extremists” and “illegal re-entrants,” the latter category referring to immigrants who have entered the United States without state authorization more than once. Edge Ops LLC, which was awarded a one-year contract to provide the technology, is a defense contractor led by Jennifer Piccerillo, a former Raytheon executive, and Robert Piccerillo, who formerly worked for the Department of Defense. Although the vendor’s website lists a variety of projects it has worked on for government clients, there is little public information on the company’s previous awards. Edge Ops LLC did not return a request for comment from the _Lever_ , nor did ICE. * * * This article was first published by the _Lever_ , an award-winning independent investigative newsroom.
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