Elections

What happened to normal politics? I’ve spent the past five years commuting between two centuries, trying to find out.As a curator of political history at the Smithsonian, I have attended protests and primaries, talked politics at Bernie Sanders rallies and with armed Ohio militiamen. Again and again, 21st-century Americans wonder at a democracy that looks nothing like the one they grew up with.I’ve asked the 19th century the same question. Heading into the Smithsonian’s secure collections, past recently collected riot shields and tiki torches, I’ve dug into the evidence of a similar crisis in the late 1800s. Ballots from stolen elections. Paramilitary uniforms from midnight rallies. Diaries and letters, stored elsewhere, of senators and saloonkeepers and seamstresses, all asking: Is democracy a failure?These artifacts suggest that we’re not posing the right question today. If we want to understand what happened to 20th-century politics, we need to stop considering it standard. We need to look deeper into our past and ask how we got normal politics to begin with.The answer is that we had to fight for them. From the 1860s through 1900, America was embroiled in a generation-long, culturewide war over democracy, fought through the loudest, roughest, closest elections in our history. An age of acrimony when engaged, enraged participation came to seem less like a “perversion of traditional American institutions,” as one memoirist observed, and more like “their normal operation.”The partisan combat of that era politicized race, class and religion but often came down to a fundamental debate about behavior. How should Americans participate in their democracy? What was out of bounds? Were fraud, violence and voter suppression the result of bad actors, or were there certain dangerous tendencies inherent in the very idea of self-government? Was reform even possible?Ultimately, Americans decided to simmer down. After 1900, a movement of well-to-do reformers invented a style of politics, a Great Quieting aiming for what The Los Angeles Times called “more thinking and less shouting.” But “less shouting” also meant less turnout, less participation, less of a voice for working people. “Normal” politics was invented to calm our democracy the last time it broke.Over a century of relative peace, politically speaking, this model came to seem standard, but our embattled norms are really the cease-fire terms of a forgotten war.This period from the Civil War to World War I is often quickly explained with history textbook abstractions like “industrialization,” “urbanization” and “immigration,” but those big social forces had intimate effects on Americans. Living in a time of incredible disruption, instability and inequality pushed unsteady citizens into partisan combat. Nervous people make nasty politics, and the churn of Gilded Age life left millions feeling cut loose and unprotected. During this era, Americans saw weaker family ties, had fewer communal institutions and spent more time alone. Though we associate the Gilded Age with packed factories and tenements, loneliness and isolation were driving social and political forces in this shaken nation. Americans “had to cling to something,” observed the writer Walter Weyl, and in the absence of their old folk customs or local institutions, “the temptation to cling to party became ruthless.”The parties were willing to oblige. The only thing Gilded Age life seemed to want from struggling Americans was their hard labor. But the Democratic and Republican Parties wanted their voices at rallies, their boots on the cobblestones, their stomachs at barbecues, their fists at riots and their votes on Election Day. Richard Croker, a Tammany Hall boss — once jailed for an Election Day stabbing — called his machine America’s “great digestive apparatus,” capable of converting lonely immigrants into active citizens.Likewise, people needed the parties. Some had concrete goals, like the Black politician and Philadelphia barber Isaiah C. Wears, who explained that he did not love the Republican Party — it was merely the most useful tool in his community, the “knife which has the sharpest edge and does my cutting.” Others needed something more emotional. Many sought the community that came from marching together or sharing the party’s lager or guffawing at the same political cartoons. And because participation was so social and so saturating, even the women, young people and minorities denied the right to vote could still feel palpably engaged without ever casting a ballot.But their efforts resolved little. Voter turnouts climbed higher than in any other period in American history, and the results were closer than ever, too, but neither party won lasting mandates or addressed systemic problems. Every few years, some bold new movement pointed to the issues Americans were not addressing — inequality, immigration, white supremacy, monopoly — only to be laughed off as cranks by swelling multitudes that preferred parties that, as one Tammany operative said, did not “trouble them with political arguments.”Even those on the front lines of the era’s violent politics wondered what it was all for. One African American reverend pointedly asked Black Republicans fighting to hold on to voting rights, “With all your speaking, organizing, parading in the streets, ballyhooing, voting and sometimes fighting, what do you get?”The more demands Americans put on their democracy, the less they got. By centering politics on what The Atlantic Monthly called “the theater, the opera, the baseball game, the intellectual gymnasium, almost the church of the people,” by making it the locus for a culture war, a race war and a class war, by asking it to provide public entertainment and small talk and family bonding, progress became impossible. Little changed because so many were participating, not in spite of that.“Government by party is not a means of settling things,” as the muckraker Henry Demarest Lloyd said. “It is the best of devices for keeping them unsettled.”Over the years, politics alienated widening circles. On the right, America’s old aristocrats — like the revered Boston historian Francis Parkman — hissed that the very idea of majority rule was a scheme to steal power from “superior to inferior types of men.” On the left, Populists and socialists denounced political machines that had hoodwinked working-class voters. These populations would never agree on what should come next but had a consensus on what had to end.After 1890 or so, a new alliance began working toward the secret cause of making politics so dry and quiet that fewer of those “inferior types” wanted to participate, often explicitly viewing mass turnout as harmful. Many cities, scarred by the rising labor movement, banned public rallies without permits, hoping to shove public political expressions back into “the private home,” as the Republican National Convention chairman put it. They closed saloons on Election Day, shuttering those key working-class political hubs. And they replaced public ballot boxes with private voting booths, turning polling places from vibrant, violent gatherings into a confessional box.Though each change felt small, taken together, they amounted to a revolution in political labor. Campaign work once done in the streets by many ordinary volunteers was now done in private by a few paid professionals.What came next was predictable. Voter turnout crashed by nearly a third in presidential elections from the 1890s through the 1920s, falling from roughly 80 percent to under 50 percent. Voting decreased most among working-class, young, immigrant and Black citizens (even in Northern states where African Americans maintained the ability to vote). For the first time, wealth and education correlated with turnout. To this day, class remains the largest determiner of participation, above race or age.There were some benefits to these quieter elections. Political violence became rare and shocking. Between 1859 and 1905, one congressman was murdered every seven years, and three presidents were killed in just 36 years. In the subsequent century, the nation suffered one presidential assassination and the murder of a congressman every 25 years. In this cooler political environment, lawmakers were finally able to pass long-delayed Progressive reforms. Women’s suffrage, federal protections for workers, direct elections of senators, progressive income taxes and regulations on industry, transportation, food and drugs all finally passed — after decades of failure — once electoral politics quieted. American lives improved more in this period than in any other, and yet it all coincided with a crash in participation.But this early-20th-century democracy was also more distant from ordinary life. These are the years when it became impolite to talk politics at the dinner table, when growing numbers struggled to distinguish between the parties, when incumbent politicians began to hold on to office for decades. The number of seats in Congress, which had always expanded with the population, permanently froze in 1911 at 435, even though our population has tripled since then.And this is the same ugly era when Southern states began an onslaught on the million Black voters who participated in many elections during Reconstruction. States from Mississippi to Virginia passed repressive new constitutions between 1890 and 1910, essentially killing democratic participation in much of the South. Though that was far more extreme, all these changes grew from a new climate of restraint that quieted politics nationwide in the new century.Political objects can tell the story of this change. From 1860 to 1900, parties held torch-lit midnight marches to rally the faithful. In 1900, after a sweltering Republican convention in Philadelphia where participants wore straw hats, the jaunty boater became the new icon of a cooler approach to politics. A glance at political cartoons from 1920 or 1960 or even 2000 finds caricatures still wearing boaters — a style far removed from the torch-lit democracy of the 1800s.The Smithsonian has steel drawers full of such boaters (made from straw, plastic and Wisconsin cheesehead foam). My colleagues and I have spent the past few years shuttling between these collections and contemporary political events, trying to identify objects that might embody the change we’ve witnessed in our democracy, that might go behind museum glass in a century to help explain 2016 or 2021. And wondering what these eras might say to each other. When it comes to electoral politics, our problems are different from those Americans dealt with 150 years ago, but the 19th century does have a surprisingly hopeful takeaway to offer the 21st.We’re not the first generation to worry about the death of our democracy. Grappling with this demanding system of government is, well, normal. It’s partly because we’re following the unusually calmed 20th century that we don’t feel up to the task today. Our deep history shows that reform is possible, that previous generations identified flaws in their politics and made deliberate changes to correct them. We’re not just helplessly hurtling toward inevitable civil war; we can be actors in this story. The first step is acknowledging the dangers inherent in democracy. To move forward, we should look backward and see that we’re struggling not with a collapse but with a relapse.Jon Grinspan, a curator of political history at the Smithsonian’s National Museum of American History, is the author of “The Age of Acrimony: How Americans Fought to Fix Their Democracy, 1865-1915.”The Times is committed to publishing a diversity of letters to the editor. We’d like to hear what you think about this or any of our articles. Here are some tips. And here’s our email: [email protected] The New York Times Opinion section on Facebook, Twitter (@NYTopinion) and Instagram. More

The attorney general, who oversaw the inquiry into sexual harassment allegations against Andrew Cuomo, will challenge Gov. Kathy Hochul for the Democratic nomination.Letitia James, the New York attorney general who oversaw the inquiry into sexual harassment claims against former Gov. Andrew M. Cuomo that ultimately led to his resignation, declared her candidacy for governor on Friday, setting up a history-making, high-profile matchup in the Democratic primary.She begins the campaign as Gov. Kathy Hochul’s most formidable challenger, and her announcement triggers a start to what may be an extraordinarily competitive primary — a contest set to be shaped by issues of ideology, race and region in a state still battling its way out of the pandemic.Her announcement comes at a volatile moment in state politics, a day after Mr. Cuomo was charged in a sexual misconduct complaint based on the account of one of the women whose claims of sexual harassment were detailed in the attorney general’s report.That development, Ms. James said, validated “the findings in our report,” and to her allies it further cemented the case for her leadership. But it has also added fresh fuel to Mr. Cuomo’s suggestion that her investigation was politically motivated, a message that may resonate with some of the voters who still view him favorably.“I’m running for governor of New York because I have the experience, vision, and courage to take on the powerful on behalf of all New Yorkers,” Ms. James wrote on Twitter as she released her announcement video on Friday.In the video, a narrator said that Ms. James was running “for good-paying jobs, a health care system that puts people ahead of profits, to protect the environment, make housing more affordable and lift up our schools in every neighborhood.” The video did not mention Mr. Cuomo by name.Ms. James, a veteran Brooklyn politician and the first woman of color to be elected to statewide office in New York, is seeking to become the first Black female governor in the country; Ms. Hochul, who is white, is the state’s first female chief executive and the first governor in more than a century to have deep roots in western New York.The race may have even broader implications as a key barometer of the direction of the Democratic Party in the Biden era. Ms. Hochul, of the Buffalo area, was once known as a more conservative Democrat, but she has increasingly moved leftward.Ms. James, by turn, has plenty of connections to the relatively moderate Democratic establishment, but also has longstanding ties to the left-wing Working Families Party. It is not yet clear what issues she will use to differentiate herself politically from Ms. Hochul, but there is plainly the potential for vigorous clashes over how best to move the state and party forward.Her announcement came two days after The New York Times and other outlets reported that she and her team had begun informing key political players of her intentions.“Since she was first elected as a Working Families Party candidate nearly 20 years ago, Tish has been a courageous fighter for everyday New Yorkers,” said Sochie Nnaemeka, the state director of the New York Working Families Party. “We expect that Tish will campaign with a clear progressive vision for New York.”Ms. James enters the race with a record that has drawn acclaim from many liberals in the state. As attorney general, she made headlines for suing the National Rifle Association, investigating President Donald J. Trump and presiding over the Cuomo inquiry, which was conducted by outside lawyers.“I’ve sued the Trump administration 76 times — but who’s counting?” she deadpanned in the video.She appeared to make several allusions to Mr. Cuomo. “I’ve held accountable those who mistreat and harass women in the workplace, no matter how powerful the offenders,” she said at one point.“I’ve spent my career guided by a simple principle: Stand up to the powerful on behalf of the vulnerable,” she said at another. “To be a force for change.”Ms. James’s allies believe that she could assemble a powerful coalition that includes Black voters of varying ideological views, a broad swath of left-leaning voters who welcomed her probes of Mr. Cuomo, national donors interested in her history-making potential, and a base in the most vote-rich part of the state.She has deep connections to some labor leaders, too; John Samuelsen, the international president of the Transport Workers Union, declared minutes after Ms. James’s announcement that she “will be a governor that working New Yorkers can trust.” His union officially endorsed Ms. James a few hours later — the first union endorsement in the race for governor, her campaign noted.In recent weeks, Ms. James has moved to build out her political and fund-raising teams, and she begins the contest with significant New York City connections after serving on the City Council and as public advocate.She has also spent time traveling across New York — in her official capacity and for purely political outings — and she and her team have sounded out donors, labor leaders and elected officials as she moved toward a bid. Her team has begun seeking commitments for early endorsements that could help her build momentum quickly.But Ms. Hochul begins the race with her own significant advantages. She has been racing to cement an overwhelming fund-raising edge; receptive donors are one of the many benefits of incumbency.Ms. Hochul is strong upstate and already has several key endorsements.Dave Sanders for The New York TimesShe is likely to perform strongly upstate, and she has spent years building relationships on Long Island. Since becoming governor, she has maintained a breakneck public schedule heavily concentrated in the five boroughs, working to shore up her downstate strength and tapping a lieutenant governor, Brian A. Benjamin, who hails from Harlem.And she has already locked down significant institutional support from groups including the Democratic Governors Association and Emily’s List, the fund-raising powerhouse that backs female candidates who support abortion rights. She has been endorsed by county chairs across the state, the state Democratic chairman and the president of the N.A.A.C.P. New York State Conference.Many New Yorkers approve of the way she has handled the transition from a decade of Mr. Cuomo’s iron-fisted reign and appear inclined to give her more time to acclimate to the job — while some Democrats would prefer Ms. James to stay as attorney general to see through existing cases, including one involving Mr. Trump and his business dealings.Ms. Hochul and Ms. James are unlikely to be the only contenders for the nomination, and there is a real possibility of the kind of messy, crowded primary that some party leaders, wary of Democratic infighting, had hoped to avoid.Two of Ms. James’s fellow Brooklynites, Mayor Bill de Blasio and Jumaane D. Williams, the public advocate, are both taking steps toward campaigns for governor and could cut into her coalition in New York City.Jumaane D. Williams, the public advocate, has formed an exploratory committee ahead of a possible bid for governor.Thalia Juarez for The New York TimesRepresentative Thomas Suozzi, who represents Long Island and a sliver of Queens, has also been considering a run. Unlike the other possible contenders, he would seek to outflank Ms. Hochul as a moderate option in the race as she works to build strength in Nassau and Suffolk Counties. Steven Bellone, the Suffolk County executive, is also weighing a campaign.But for months, the question of whether Ms. James would run was the defining issue of the nascent primary contest, with some allies describing her as deliberative, and others growing increasingly eager to learn her decision as other aspects of the race came into focus.Her answer goes a long way toward cementing the contours of the field.Now, perhaps the biggest unknown is the question of how Mr. Cuomo may seek to involve himself in the race. The former governor, who as of the most recent filings continued to maintain a large war chest, and his team have repeatedly sought to question Ms. James’s integrity, attacking her in emails and letters sent to onetime supporters.“The fact that the attorney general — as predicted — is about to announce a run for governor is lost on no one,” Richard Azzopardi, a spokesman for Mr. Cuomo, said in response to the complaint on Thursday.Ms. James, for her part, laced into those efforts at a recent speech in New York City as she defended her work.“No one is above the law,” she said. “Our state can do better.” More

The region has been an engine of Democratic victories, but now the party is on defense as Republicans go after swing voters with worries about schools.RICHMOND — Schuyler VanValkenburg, a Democrat in the Virginia House of Delegates, drove the oak-shaded streets of his suburban district, pointing out landmarks that told the story of how he had won his seat after Republicans held it for decades.Over there was one of the county’s first mosques. There, the Hindu Center. The Final Gravity Brewing Company had opened near Love Shack, a breakfast spot offering Virginia ham and eggs on a croissant.The houses of worship for global immigrants and the cool watering holes for young transplants reflected sweeping demographic changes that have pushed politics in the Richmond suburbs, including Henrico County, to the left.“A new generation moved in,” said Mr. VanValkenburg, a high school government teacher first elected in 2017. “Henrico became browner. It became denser.”But now, he and his party are in races that are far tighter than most expected, including a deadlocked governor’s contest. And Democrats’ historic margins in Virginia in recent years are suddenly looking as though they may have been the result not of an inexorable demographic tide, but of a furious resistance to Donald J. Trump — one that exaggerated the true strength of the Democratic Party in a state that could be returning to its previous role as a battleground.Without Mr. Trump in office, Terry McAuliffe, the former Democratic governor seeking a new term in that post, is fighting for his political life, four years after the current Democratic governor coasted to a 9-point win.Greater Richmond, including the capital city and its diversifying suburbs, is the second-fastest-growing region in the state and a key to the governor’s race, as well as to control of the Legislature.Demographic changes in Richmond are reflected in the many new houses of worship, like the Islamic Center of Richmond.Carlos Bernate for The New York TimesA poll released Wednesday by Christopher Newport University suggested that Democrats were falling well short in the region. While it mirrored most other polls in showing the governor’s race deadlocked statewide, it said Glenn Youngkin, the Republican candidate, had pulled away from Mr. McAuliffe in the Richmond media market — an area extending beyond the city and its populous suburbs into rural counties.A Fox News poll on Thursday was even grimmer for Democrats: It showed Mr. Youngkin with an 8-point lead among likely voters statewide ahead of Tuesday’s election.“On the ground, it feels like our side has all the energy,” said Mark Early Jr., a Republican vying for a Democratic-held seat in the House of Delegates that straddles Richmond and suburban Chesterfield County.Mr. Early said a Youngkin television ad ripping Mr. McAuliffe for saying parents shouldn’t tell schools what to teach had poured “gasoline on the fire” of some voters’ frustrations over public schools, first kindled last year by Covid-related school closures that set back students’ learning. “I hear a lot of blowback from moms, especially working moms,” he said.Democrats accuse Mr. Youngkin of distortions and fear-mongering on schools, including calls for police officers in every school and a ban on critical race theory, which educators say plays no role in K-12 curriculums.Still, Mr. Youngkin’s forward-looking closing message, emphasizing “parents’ rights,” seemed considerably more resonant with voters than Mr. McAuliffe’s retrospective final appeal — reminding Virginians, whose swing counties are doing quite well economically, of all the jobs he created and the money he spent on education as governor from 2014 to 2018.“If Youngkin is able to turn it around here, I think it will be because of his education gambit,” said Richard Meagher, a politics professor at Randolph-Macon College near Richmond. “That’s the one issue where you can still win back those suburban voters who have turned into the Democratic column lately.”For Mr. McAuliffe to prevail in greater Richmond, Democrats need to drive up turnout in the city; maintain their gains of the past 15 years in Henrico County, north and east of the city; and not cede too much ground in Chesterfield County, which includes more conservative western suburbs.Mary Margaret Kastelberg told voters she wasn’t a Trump apologist as she canvassed in Henrico County.Carlos Bernate for The New York TimesOn Thursday evening, Mary Margaret Kastelberg, a Republican challenging a Democratic delegate in a bellwether district in Henrico County, spent her 26th wedding anniversary knocking on the doors of residents her campaign had identified as swing voters.She wasn’t having much luck.Laura Kohlroser, still in hospital scrubs from her workday, said the Jan. 6 riots at the Capitol had deeply soured her on Republicans. “The way the Republican Party stood behind Donald Trump, that to me was just deplorable,” she said.Walter Taylor said that he had been a “die-hard Republican” through 2016, voting that year for Mr. Trump, but that his shambolic presidency “turned me 180 degrees.” He was not convinced that Mr. Youngkin, a former financial executive, was really the hoops-shooting, fleece-vest-wearing regular guy he portrayed in TV ads.“He’s too close to Trump,’’ said Mr. Taylor, a retired insurance underwriter. But Ms. Kastelberg earned his vote, he told her.Walter Taylor, right, a Republican, is skeptical of Mr. Youngkin because “he’s too close to Trump.’’Carlos Bernate for The New York TimesEarlier on Thursday, Mr. McAuliffe had been in Richmond for a rally with leaders of the African American community, which makes up 40 percent of the population. Early voting in the city has been running behind early voting in the suburbs, an imperfect but useful gauge of enthusiasm.At a community center on the North Side, Frank Moseley, director of a nonpartisan group that informs voters of color about issues, said Democrats’ failure to deliver on big promises made to Black voters in 2020 — on gun violence, affordable housing and voting rights — had cooled some voters’ ardor. “We are probably one of the most letdown voting blocs,” he said. “That is one of the biggest detractors for individuals going out to vote.”Aja Moore acknowledged that voters under 30 are much less likely to vote this year.Carlos Bernate for The New York TimesOne of the few younger people in the room, Aja Moore, 24, acknowledged what polls are showing: Voters under 30, a big part of the Biden coalition last year, are less likely to vote now.“They’re busy with their life,” said Ms. Moore, who works in government relations for a big law firm. “They’re not into it.’’In an interview, Amy Wentz, a member of a civil rights group, the Richmond Crusade for Voters, suggested another potential reason that some Black voters, especially women, may be in a funk: The party nominated a 64-year-old white man for governor after he defeated two Black female legislators in the primary.Ms. Wentz, who said she was a strong McAuliffe supporter, forwarded a Facebook post from a friend. “I know I am going to get fussed at, but I am not motivated to vote,” the woman wrote. “I really feel some type of way about Virginia not having a Black woman as our gubernatorial candidate.”Ms. Wentz said Mr. McAuliffe had done a good job reaching out to people of color, including in a Zoom meeting with her own organization. “I feel like we’re going to step up,” she said. “We’re not feeling it right now, but I feel like that by Tuesday, people are going to do the right thing. There’s too much at stake.”The 2020 census confirmed the demographic upheaval of the Richmond region. Within the city, which only last month removed the last Confederate statue — of Robert E. Lee — from historic Monument Avenue, the share of white residents rose over the past decade faster than any locality in the state. Gentrification has transformed industrial areas into neighborhoods of craft breweries and restaurants serving Alsatian cuisine.At the same time, the Black population swelled in the suburbs: by 25 percent in Chesterfield County, its largest growth among all racial groups. In Henrico County, the populations of Black, Asian and Hispanic residents all rose significantly.Politics in the Richmond suburbs have moved to the left because of gentrification and a population swell of Black, Asian and Latino residents.Carlos Bernate for The New York TimesMr. VanValkenburg, the lawmaker and teacher, said that 15 years ago, his students were overwhelmingly white. Now, about 100 languages are spoken in the county.He rose to anger over Mr. Youngkin’s campaigning on issues involving education, including his stoking the cultural issue of critical race theory — a dog whistle to white voters that is not even taught in grade school — and accusing Democrats of wanting to keep parents out of classrooms.“Of course parents should have a say in education,” said Mr. VanValkenburg, who emails parents weekly updates on their children’s class work.Republicans, he complained, “keep trying to gin up issues that aren’t real as a way to scare people,” including appeals to conservatives who have led efforts to remove books with gay and racial themes from schools.If Mr. Youngkin is elected and fulfills his pledge to ban critical race theory his first day, Mr. VanValkenburg said, it would have no practical effect. “But what it would do is create a culture of fear,” he said, driving through his district on Wednesday.“Does somebody feel bad about their race if we teach about slavery?” he added.On Thursday, the local paper reported that a parent had complained at a school board meeting about a novel in school libraries about an interracial teenage romance. Mr. VanValkenburg’s Republican opponent was quoted expressing his disgust. The district removed eight copies of the book from its shelves. More

As he runs for governor of Virginia, Mr. Youngkin has built a coalition, as one prominent conservative described it, of Trump voters and angry parents.For months as he campaigned for governor of Virginia, Glenn Youngkin tried to sound a lot like the kind of Republican who dominated the party back in 2009 — the last time a Republican was elected to statewide office.He avoided discussion of divisive social issues in favor of praise of free markets and job creators, and conservative activists knew very little about him or what he believed as a result.“He was on nobody’s radar screen,” said John Fredericks, a radio host who was chairman of Donald J. Trump’s presidential campaigns in Virginia in 2016 and 2020.In the final days before the election on Tuesday, many Republicans say they still have no idea what Mr. Youngkin really believes. But they have cheered him on regardless, after he took a hard-right turn and began promoting the causes that are animating conservatives and supporters of the former president, from the debate over teaching the impact of racism to transgender rights in schools.To Mr. Youngkin’s critics, his culture warrior persona is cynical and disingenuous — just the kind of transactional decision that a career investment manager with a fortune estimated at close to $400 million would make to win.But to his Republican supporters, whether or not it’s an act isn’t really the point.As long as Mr. Youngkin is saying what they want to hear and signaling what they understand he cannot say out loud — running on the issue of “election integrity,” for instance, rather than wholeheartedly accepting Mr. Trump’s lies about election fraud in 2020 — many conservatives see his campaign as providing a template for how to delicately embrace Trumpism in blue states.“What he’s done is he’s danced on the edge of a knife for seven months,” said Mr. Fredericks, who initially backed a more overtly pro-Trump candidate before Mr. Youngkin won the Republican nomination. “But he’s built a coalition that is very formidable — Trump voters and angry parents.” He added, “I think Trump supporters understand there really is no time for internal squabbling or hurt feelings. They understand the stakes of this election are enormous.”Mr. Youngkin’s Republican detractors, however, see an opportunistic politician pandering to the party’s base.“Whether he believes in this Trump stuff or if he’s trafficking in it, I don’t know,” said David Ramadan, a former Republican member of the Virginia House of Delegates who now teaches at George Mason University. “But if he doesn’t really believe this stuff and is just trafficking in it,” Mr. Ramadan added, “that’s worse than believing it.”The Youngkin campaign did not respond to an interview request.On paper at least, Mr. Youngkin, 54, is an odd fit for a party that has rejected the elitism he embodies. In fact, his life and career have had far more in common with Mitt Romney’s than Mr. Trump’s: a degree from Harvard Business School, a long and lucrative career in private equity, devout religious convictions and even a family love of horses. He owns a 31-acre horse farm in Fairfax County with his wife, Suzanne.Before he entered the governor’s race — his first try at elected office — Mr. Youngkin donated extensively to Republican candidates who were aligned with the party’s establishment wing: Jeb Bush, the former Florida governor; Senator Susan Collins of Maine and Senator Rob Portman of Ohio; and former Representative Paul Ryan, according to federal campaign finance records. He gave Mr. Romney’s campaign and its allied political groups $75,000 during the 2012 campaign, records show.Those affiliations and his lack of a reputation in Virginia Republican politics made many conservatives skeptical of Mr. Youngkin. His background did, too. He worked as a consultant for McKinsey & Company before joining the Carlyle Group, a Washington-based private equity firm with deep roots in the political establishment. He worked there for more than 25 years, climbing the ranks and eventually becoming a co-chief executive officer. He announced he was leaving the firm in the summer of 2020 and declared his candidacy for governor a few months later.As the country’s culture wars reached a boiling point earlier this year, angry parents in Loudoun County denounced school administrators for implementing a curriculum that they said taught white students they were racist. Mr. Youngkin seized on the issue, surprising conservatives who assumed he was more in the mold of Republicans who have fallen out of favor with the activist base.“Where you have to give Glenn Youngkin credit is he leaned into it,” said Terry Schilling, president of the Virginia-based American Principles Project, which has been running pro-Youngkin ads. “I didn’t see a willingness from him to take these issues on. I just assumed he was a Mitt Romney-type candidate.”One of the group’s ads centers on the sexual assault of a girl in a high school bathroom, a case that conservatives have used to criticize transgender bathroom laws, although it was not clear the attacker in that case was transgender. In a speech last week, Mr. Youngkin linked the case to the campaign themes he has aimed at anxious suburban parents.“What other tragedy awaits Virginia’s children?” he asked.Mr. Youngkin has also vowed that if elected, he would ban the teaching in public schools of critical race theory, an academic body of thought about the effects of systemic racism that has galvanized conservatives around the country. It is generally not introduced until college and is not part of classroom teaching in Virginia.At a parent-focused rally in Winchester, Va., supporters listened to Mr. Youngkin. Jason Andrew for The New York TimesSome Republicans have been surprised at the audience their messages have found in Virginia, a state that has steadily trended away from the party in the last decade. Polls have generally put the race in a dead heat between Mr. Youngkin and his Democratic opponent, Terry McAuliffe, a former governor and a former chairman of the Democratic National Committee, but a Fox News survey released Thursday showed Mr. Youngkin pulling away from Mr. McAuliffe, with an eight-percentage-point lead among likely voters, exceeding the poll’s margin of sampling error.Mr. Youngkin began his campaign by selling himself as a political outsider and businessman who would bring competence and common sense to the governor’s mansion. “I was tired of watching what was happening with folks that have never really run anything,” he said in an interview with Fox Business in February. Early on, he nodded to the exaggerated claims by pro-Trump Republicans that fraud had tipped the 2020 election and established a task force to recruit citizens to help his campaign monitor balloting in Virginia.He made little secret of his desire to avoid getting dragged into debates over social issues and was secretly filmed by a liberal activist saying that he couldn’t talk about abortion because he would alienate independent voters. But when the debate over critical race theory started consuming conservative media, Mr. Youngkin wasn’t so taciturn.“Critical race theory has moved into our school system and we have to remove it,” he told Fox News in August.Increasingly, Mr. Schilling with the American Principles Project and other conservative activists see the Virginia race as a dress rehearsal for the 2022 midterm elections. Those races, they said, are likely to hinge on parents of schoolchildren who believe their public schools have become battlegrounds in the culture wars.“If Youngkin pulls this out, or even if he outperforms expectations, I think what you’re going to see in 2022 is a Tea Party-like movement centered on families and schools,” Mr. Schilling said.If Mr. Youngkin prevails, it will be in part thanks to Republicans who decided it did not matter what he believed.“I don’t know where his heart is,” Mr. Schilling added. “I’m not thinking a lot about it.” More

With the New York City election just days away, we cut through the personal attacks to show where the main candidates, Eric Adams and Curtis Sliwa, stand on the issues.Eric Adams, left, and Curtis Sliwa will face off in New York’s mayoral election on Tuesday.Tony Cenicola/The New York TimesThe final weeks of the New York City mayor’s race have been dominated by personal attacks between the two leading candidates. Eric Adams, the Democratic front-runner, called his Republican opponent, Curtis Sliwa, racist and a “Mini-Me of Donald Trump.” Mr. Sliwa has criticized Mr. Adams as an elitist and “Bill de Blasio 2.0.”It should be no surprise that the two candidates also have very different visions for the city as it emerges from the pandemic.Mr. Adams, the Brooklyn borough president, wants to trim the police budget by cutting back on overtime pay; Mr. Sliwa, the founder of the Guardian Angels subway patrol group, wants to hire 3,000 more officers. Mr. Adams is a cyclist who wants to build 300 miles of new protected bike lanes; Mr. Sliwa wants to remove bike lanes. Mr. Adams wants to keep vaccine mandates for city workers and indoor dining; Mr. Sliwa would reverse both.There are some areas of common ground: Both want to expand the gifted and talented program for elementary schools instead of ending it. Both have called for hundreds more “psychiatric beds” at hospitals to be used for people with mental health problems who are living on the streets. Both want to bring back the Police Department’s plainclothes anti-crime unit, which was disbanded under Mayor de Blasio.The candidates have also proposed somewhat overlapping economic recovery initiatives focused on getting New Yorkers back to work and removing regulations for small businesses.Whoever wins on Tuesday will face enormous challenges when he takes office in January. Here are the candidates’ plans for the city.— Emma G. FitzsimmonsEric AdamsAge: 61.Born: New York.Professional experience: Brooklyn borough president; former state senator and police captain.Mr. Adams has long had his eye on becoming mayor. He first ran for office in 1994 and was briefly a Republican during the Giuliani administration.Salient quotation: “The city betrayed Mommy,” Mr. Adams said as he voted for himself during the primary in June, explaining that the city has failed poor Black families like his.Personal detail: Mr. Adams is vegan and has eaten a plant-based diet since discovering he had diabetes at age 56.Curtis SliwaAge: 67.Born: New York.Professional experience: Founded the Guardian Angels subway patrol group; has been a conservative radio host.Mr. Sliwa has never run for office before. He became a Republican last year, once led the Reform Party of New York State and was a Democrat earlier in his life.Salient quotation: “Who at the age of 67 is running around wearing a red beret and a red satin jacket and going out there like a crime fighter and a superhero from our days reading comic books?” he told The Times earlier this year.Personal detail: Mr. Sliwa lives in a studio apartment on the Upper West Side with his wife — his fourth — and 16 cats.TransportationSubway ridership has not rebounded to prepandemic levels, a problem for the Metropolitan Transportation Authority.Brittainy Newman for The New York TimesNew York City’s recovery from the pandemic will depend heavily on mass transit and other transportation. But the subway is facing a looming financial emergency, with ridership significantly below prepandemic numbers.Like his predecessors, the next mayor’s influence over the subway system will be limited: The subway and its daily operations are overseen by the Metropolitan Transportation Authority, which is largely controlled by the governor.Still, both Mr. Adams and Mr. Sliwa say that it is crucial to restore confidence in the subway system and bring back riders. To do so, they are both targeting public safety underground. Though subway crime was down for the first nine months of the year relative to the same period in 2020, felony assaults there are up not just compared to last year, when ridership was very low, but also compared with 2019. A string of high-profile attacks has pushed the issue to the forefront.Both candidates want to deploy more police officers in the subways and direct homeless and mentally ill people off the trains and toward services. Mr. Sliwa, who has falsely stated that subway crime has reached all-time highs, wants to add 5,000 city police officers to patrol the system, some of them redirected from other duties. He also proposes relocating mentally ill and homeless people from the trains to psychiatric facilities or homeless shelters, though he has not explained how he would do so.Mr. Adams, a former transit police officer, wants the Police Department to shift officers from other roles to subway patrol, though he has not stated a specific figure. He also seeks to restore the department’s homeless outreach unit, which was defunded by Mr. de Blasio, and have mental health professionals team up with police officers. He also seeks to invest in better cell service, Wi-Fi and surveillance cameras in stations to help deter crime.The mayor’s largest sway over transportation in the city is in control over its streets, where there have been severe congestion and a surge in traffic deaths. Here, the candidates have markedly different approaches.Mr. Adams has thrown his support behind the state’s plan to enact congestion pricing in parts of Manhattan, which would charge a fee on vehicles in the area and aim to both reduce traffic and provide new funding for the transit system. Mr. Sliwa opposes it.Mr. Adams says he favors redesigning streets to address safety issues, including by encouraging alternatives to car travel. Over four years, he wants to build 300 new miles of protected bike lanes and 150 miles of new bus lanes and busways with a particular focus on transit deserts and busy corridors like Linden Boulevard in Brooklyn.Mr. Sliwa has accused the city of a war on vehicles and has proposed removing underutilized bike lanes that he says could better serve as parking spots. He has called for eliminating speed cameras but wants the Police Department to enforce traffic laws more actively and would provide funding to help it do so.— Michael GoldEducationThe first day of the academic year at P.S. 25 Bilingual School in the South Bronx.Anna Watts for The New York TimesMr. Adams’s most concrete education proposal may also be one of his least-discussed plans: blow up the school calendar and introduce year-round schooling. A 12-month academic year would be logistically complex and likely to be unpopular with some families and teachers. It would also require an overhaul of the teachers’ union contract, and significant funding to pay for many more educators to work outside of the traditional year.Mr. Adams has also made screening young students for dyslexia and other learning disabilities a priority. Asked how he would approach the task of desegregating schools, Mr. Adams said he would focus on making sure that children with disabilities and other challenges were not separated from their peers unnecessarily. He also said he would dedicate more funding to struggling school districts, a strategy used by Mr. de Blasio that produced disappointing results under his $773 million Renewal program for low-performing schools.The Democratic nominee has said he would keep the city’s gifted-and-talented program, despite Mr. Blasio’s announcement that he would seek to eliminate the current system. Mr. Sliwa has also said he would keep gifted classes.Mr. Adams also reiterated his support for keeping the admissions exam that dictates entry into the so-called specialized high schools, and said again that he would add five more specialized schools. Mayor Michael R. Bloomberg tried a similar strategy in an effort to diversify the schools in the early 2000s, but the schools have enrolled fewer Black and Latino students in recent years. Mr. Adams also said he would “replace” the current admissions process for competitive middle and high schools, without offering more details.Mr. Sliwa said he would transform struggling schools by bringing vocational training programs into more high schools and add financial literacy courses to high school curriculums.Asked how he would combat racial segregation in schools, Mr. Sliwa said he would focus on reducing class sizes, an expensive project that several mayors have struggled to implement, and increase teacher bonuses, particularly for educators willing to teach in low-performing schools. Mr. de Blasio has already tried the latter proposal, with mixed results. And the powerful United Federation of Teachers has viewed bonuses based on performance with skepticism for many years, frustrating Mr. Bloomberg and, to some extent, Mr. de Blasio.— Eliza ShapiroHealth CareA vaccination site in August in the South Bronx. The mayoral candidates differ on their approaches to vaccine mandates. James Estrin/The New York TimesBoth Mr. Adams and Mr. Sliwa say they share a goal of making health care more accessible and affordable for average New Yorkers. But many of the details of their ideas — and how they want to go about making them happen — differ.Mr. Adams said his top priority would be to focus on ending the racial inequities that made Covid-19 “a tale of two pandemics, where Black and brown New Yorkers died at twice the rate of white New Yorkers.” He wants to enroll all New Yorkers who lack health insurance in low-cost plans run by the city’s public hospitals. He also wants to create more community health centers, put housing assistance and social services in hospitals and introduce a citywide network that would better distribute care for indigent patients between private and public hospitals, particularly in emergencies.Healthy eating is a particular passion of Mr. Adams. He is motivated by his own experience of waking up almost blind, with full-blown diabetes, at age 56 and says he reversed his illness by switching to a vegan, unprocessed-food diet. He has written a book, “Healthy at Last,” about his journey, and wants to scale up a clinic at Bellevue Hospital that he helped spearhead which focuses on treating disease by changing lifestyles.“One of the most important things we can do to prevent chronic diseases is to provide better access to quality, healthy food for underserved New Yorkers,” he said.Mr. Sliwa has not published a health care platform. But in a statement, he said his focus would be bringing down costs for working-class New Yorkers “across all demographics, from our young to elderly.” To do this, he focused on involving the private sector, with “public-private partnerships to increase access to medicine, treatment and other remedies” Like Mr. Adams, he also wants to encourage healthy eating and exercise in public schools.The plight of mentally ill homeless New Yorkers is a particular concern of Mr. Sliwa’s as the founder of the Guardian Angels, which has spent decades patrolling the city’s subways. “Increased access to psychiatric resources will ensure that no New Yorker is left behind in our road to emotional and physical recovery,” he said.The candidates are at odds on coronavirus vaccine mandates. Mr. Adams said he wanted to “double down” on the city’s vaccine mandates and its “Key to NYC” policy, which requires vaccination for indoor dining and entertainment. Mr. Sliwa has railed against such mandates at political rallies, though he is vaccinated and says he wants others to be. “Vaccine mandates only serve to hamper down our revitalization efforts for small businesses and restaurants,” he said in a statement.— Sharon OttermanLaw EnforcementMr. Adams seeks to cut back the Police Department’s budget while Mr. Sliwa wants to expand the force.Dakota Santiago for The New York TimesNew York’s next mayor will inherit a police department — the largest police force in the country — at what is perhaps its most critical juncture in recent memory. Following a national reckoning over police brutality spurred by mass protests over the murder of George Floyd, public pressure has mounted to trim back police department budgets and shrink forces, even as violent crime rates have reached historical highs in big cities across the country.In New York, the crisis has been particularly acute: 2020 was the bloodiest year for the city since the notorious 1990s, and while gun violence rates have leveled, they remain well above prepandemic levels. Transit crime has risen, in part because of emptier subways.Much of the department’s future depends on whether the budget shrinks. The City Council voted last year to shift $1 billion from the N.Y.P.D.’s annual budget, a decision that incensed police unions and advocates of criminal-justice reform alike. On this, the two candidates could not be more opposed: Mr. Adams advocates strategically cutting back the Police Department’s budget and footprint; Mr. Sliwa wants to reverse budget cuts and expand the force.“I believe we can save at least $500 million annually through strategic civilianization of N.Y.P.D. units,” Mr. Adams told The Times, referring to officers spending significant parts of their day doing civilian jobs or clerical work, like moving trucks and barricades, or doing crowd control.Mr. Adams called the increase in gun violence “the most pressing challenge facing the New York City Police Department.” He said that the Police Department was bloated and that he would pare back its overtime, but he also endorsed reinstating gang and gun task forces, the latest iteration of which were disbanded last year amid mounting public complaints that the units were abusive.Mr. Adams also supports creating a requirement that new officers live in the five boroughs and an incentive for current officers — who are allowed to live in surrounding counties — to move back into the areas they police.Mr. Sliwa, meanwhile, wants to fully reinstate $1 billion to the budget and hire more police officers, who he says should be diverted to high-crime areas. He also advocated reinstating the N.Y.P.D.’s anti-crime unit.“We need to put $1 billion back into the police budget and hire more cops,” he said. “Under current city leadership, our police force has become reactive to crime, not proactive in crime prevention.”— Ali WatkinsEconomyInitiatives to spur economic recovery in New York City are foremost in many people’s minds.James Estrin/The New York TimesThe next mayor of New York will take over an economy still struggling to mount a robust and sustained recovery 19 months into the pandemic. More than in any other large American city, New York’s extreme income inequalities were brutally exposed.The city’s unemployment rate is 9.8 percent, down slightly from early summer but still stubbornly high and nearly double the national rate. Two major drivers of the economy in the city — office workers and tourists — remain at home, cutting off significant sources of spending.And if office workers continue to work remotely after the pandemic, even if it is just a few days a week, it would most likely reshape the city’s economy for years to come.Mr. Adams and Mr. Sliwa have proposed somewhat overlapping recovery initiatives, both pledging to use the city government to help get New Yorkers back to work and to eliminate regulations they claim hurt small companies and deter the creation of new businesses.Mr. Sliwa has sought to cast his major campaign proposal of a property tax overhaul as potential fuel to jump-start the economy. His plan would provide tax deductions to some homeowners, place a 2-percent cap on annual property tax increases and eliminate tax breaks for wealthy institutions like hospitals, universities and Madison Square Garden.The plan would require approval from the State Legislature. It also mirrors an initiative announced by Mr. de Blasio in early 2020 to overhaul the property tax system, which ultimately lost political momentum when the pandemic emerged.Another top initiative by Mr. Sliwa would to test the feasibility of establishing universal basic income; he aims to set up a pilot program that would provide $1,100 a month to 500 New Yorkers.To help small businesses, Mr. Sliwa said the city would offer up to $45,000 in low-interest loans and extend tax incentives to companies with fewer than 50 employees that operate in the city outside Manhattan.Under Mr. Adams, the city would create a jobs program driven by real-time data from private businesses about their current openings and the skills they require, connecting applicants with employment opportunities that best match their skills. The city would also streamline its own hiring system with an online portal that would simplify the process of applying for municipal jobs.The ultimate goal, Mr. Adams said, would be to position New York City as a leader in the jobs of the future, especially in scientific research and cybersecurity, two industries that were growing before the pandemic. He also wants New Yorkers to work in renewable energy, part of his effort to make the city a major hub of wind power.— Matthew HaagHousingThe pandemic has left hundreds of thousands of New Yorkers struggling to pay rent. Brittainy Newman for The New York TimesThe next mayor will take the reins of a city with a chronic shortage of affordable housing, which is in turn a main driver of homelessness. More than a quarter of city residents spend more than half their income on housing, and the number of single adults in the city’s main shelter system has risen 60 percent during Mr. de Blasio’s tenure.On housing, Mr. Adams says he will focus on adding more lower- and middle-income homes in wealthier neighborhoods with good transit access and good schools — what he calls a reversal of gentrification. He would push to legalize unpermitted basement and cellar apartments, an idea that has proved difficult to execute in the past. Mr. Sliwa favors building more housing in manufacturing zones.The pandemic has left hundreds of thousands of New Yorkers struggling to pay rent. A state moratorium on evictions has kept many in their homes, but it is set to expire in January, threatening some renters with homelessness. Mr. Adams says he will let the State Legislature reassess the need to extend the moratorium, while Mr. Sliwa would press the state to better distribute millions of dollars in rent relief to landlords to address residents’ rent debt.The city’s public housing system, NYCHA, is also in dire trouble: It faces a backlog of over $40 billion in capital needs. Mr. Adams says he will push to let developers build on existing NYCHA land — a plan that he said could address less than a quarter of those needs. Mr. Sliwa says he will make sure repairs are done faster, and train and employ NYCHA residents to make repairs themselves.While both candidates emphasized the need for more permanent housing, Mr. Sliwa also wants to increase the capacity of the city’s shelters, which many homeless people avoid because they say they are dangerous and unpleasant. Mr. Sliwa says he would add police officers and social workers to make shelters safer. Mr. Adams opposes expanding shelters.The homelessness crisis is also a mental- health crisis. People with serious mental illnesses who live on the streets and in the subways have committed violent assaults and hate crimes that have grabbed headlines and raised alarms in recent months.Both Mr. Adams and Mr. Sliwa stress the importance of reversing a decline in hospital psychiatric beds and accelerating the creation of so-called supportive housing that includes on-site social services for mentally ill people. Mr. Adams touts a plan to convert thousands of empty hotel rooms into supportive-housing apartments.— Andy Newman and Mihir ZaveriIllustrations by Eden Weingart

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In the city where the “defund the police” movement took off, voters will decide next week whether to replace their Police Department with a new public safety agency.MINNEAPOLIS — Days after a police officer murdered George Floyd, protesters gathered outside Mayor Jacob Frey’s home demanding that the Minneapolis Police Department be abolished. The mayor said no. The crowd responded with jeers of “Shame!”On Tuesday, nearly a year and a half since Mr. Floyd’s death thrust Minneapolis into the center of a fervent debate over how to prevent police abuse, voters in the city will have a choice: Should the Minneapolis Police Department be replaced with a Department of Public Safety? And should Mr. Frey, who led the city when Mr. Floyd was killed and parts of Minneapolis burned, keep his job?Minneapolis became a symbol of all that was wrong with American policing, and voters now have the option to move further than any other large city in rethinking what law enforcement should look like. But in a place still reeling from the murder of Mr. Floyd and the unrest that followed, residents are deeply divided over what to do next, revealing just how hard it is to change policing even when most everyone agrees there is a problem.“We’re now known worldwide as the city that murdered George Floyd and then followed that up by tear-gassing folks who were mourning,” said Sheila Nezhad, who decided to run for mayor after working as a street medic during the demonstrations, and who supports the proposal to replace the Police Department. “The message of passing the amendment is this isn’t about just good cops or bad cops. This is about creating safety by changing the entire system.”Sheila Nezhad decided to run for mayor after working as a street medic during the demonstrations after George Floyd was murdered by the police.Caroline Yang for The New York TimesMany residents have a dim view of the Minneapolis Police Department, which before Mr. Floyd’s death had made national headlines for the 2015 killing of Jamar Clark and the 2017 killing of Justine Ruszczyk. In recent weeks, a Minneapolis officer was charged with manslaughter after a deadly high-speed chase and, in a separate case, body camera video emerged showing officers making racist remarks and seeming to celebrate hitting protesters with nonlethal rounds. A poll by local media outlets last month found that 33 percent of residents had favorable opinions of the police while 53 percent had unfavorable views.Despite those misgivings, the overwhelmingly Democratic city is split over how to move forward. Many progressive Democrats and activists are pushing to reinvent the government’s entire approach to safety, while moderate Democrats and Republicans who are worried about increases in crime say they want to invest in policing and improve the current system. In the same poll last month, 49 percent of residents favored the ballot measure, which would replace the Police Department with a Department of Public Safety, while about 41 percent did not.The divisions extend to the top of the Democratic power structure in Minnesota. Representative Ilhan Omar and Keith Ellison, the state attorney general, support replacing the Police Department. Their fellow Democrats in the Senate, Amy Klobuchar and Tina Smith, oppose it, as does Mayor Frey.Police officers along Lake Street in Minneapolis during protests last year.Victor J. Blue for The New York Times“I know to my core that we have problems,” said Mr. Frey, who said his message of improving but not defunding the police had resonated with many Black voters, but not with white activists. “I also know to my core that we need police officers.”Since Mr. Floyd’s killing, many large cities, Minneapolis included, have invested more money in mental health services and experimented with dispatching social workers instead of armed officers to some emergency calls. Some departments scaled back minor traffic stops and arrests. And several cities cut police budgets amid the national call to defund, though some have since restored funding in response to rising gun violence and shifting politics.In the days after Mr. Floyd’s death, as protests erupted across the country, Minneapolis became the center of a push among progressive activists to defund or abolish the police. A veto-proof majority of the City Council quickly pledged to disband the Police Department. But that initial effort to get rid of the police force sputtered, and “defund the police” became a political attack line for Republicans.If the ballot measure passes next week, there would soon be no Minneapolis Police Department. The agency that would replace it would focus on a public health response to safety, with more City Council oversight and a new reporting structure. And though almost everyone expects the city would continue employing armed police officers, there would no longer be a required minimum staffing level. The ballot language says the new Department of Public Safety “could include licensed peace officers (police officers), if necessary.”Supporters of the measure, which would amend the City Charter, have largely steered away from the “defund” language, and there is little agreement on what the amendment might mean in practice. Some see it is a first step toward the eventual abolition of the police, or a way to shrink the role of armed officers to a small subset of emergencies.But other supporters of the amendment, including Kate Knuth, a mayoral candidate, say they would actually add more officers to a new Public Safety Department to make up for large numbers who have resigned or gone on leave since Mr. Floyd’s murder.Kate Knuth, a mayoral candidate and former state lawmaker, supports the amendment and says the number of officers would go up if it passes.Jenn Ackerman for The New York Times“It’s clear people want to trust that we have enough officers to do the work we need them to do,” Ms. Knuth, a former state lawmaker, said. “But the goal is public safety. Not a specific number of police.”Concerns about police misconduct persist in Minneapolis: This year, the city has fielded more than 200 complaints.But worries about crime also are shaping much of the conversation, and even as Minneapolis voters weigh replacing the department, city officials have proposed increasing the police budget by $27.6 million, or 17 percent, essentially restoring earlier cuts. At least 78 people have been killed in the city this year, and 83 people were killed last year, the most since the 1990s.“Minneapolis is in a war zone — this is a war going on where your kids are not safe,” said Sharrie Jennings, whose 10-year-old grandson was shot and severely wounded in April while being dropped off at a family member’s house. “We need more police.”For his part, the police chief, Medaria Arradondo, has urged voters to reject the amendment, saying it fails to provide a clear sense of what public safety would really look like if the Police Department were to vanish.“I was not expecting some sort of robust, detailed, word-for-word plan,” Chief Arradondo said in a news conference this week. “But at this point quite frankly I would take a drawing on a napkin.”Some Black leaders have cast the amendment as the work of well-intentioned but misguided progressive white residents whose views are shaped by the relatively safe neighborhoods where they live. About 60 percent of Minneapolis residents are white.AJ Awed, a mayoral candidate, said he resented seeing white residents angered by the death of Mr. Floyd rushing to get rid of the Police Department.Caroline Yang for The New York TimesAJ Awed, another of Mr. Frey’s challengers, said he agreed that policing in Minneapolis needed to be overhauled and that the current system was prejudiced against Black residents. But he said he resented seeing white residents angered by the death of Mr. Floyd rushing to get rid of the Police Department, describing that as “cover because you feel guilty because of what you saw.”“We are very much sensitive to the delegitimization of our security apparatus,” said Mr. Awed, who is part of the city’s large Somali American community, and whose family sought refuge in the United States after a breakdown of public safety. “Policing is a fundamental structure in society.”Not everyone sees it that way.Minneapolis remains deeply shaken by what happened over the past 18 months: The video of Officer Derek Chauvin kneeling on Mr. Floyd’s neck. The looting and arson and police crackdown that followed. The months of boarded windows and helicopters flying overhead. Then the trial this year of Mr. Chauvin, who was convicted of murder.For some, trust in law enforcement has been frayed beyond repair.Demetria Jones, 18, a student at North Community High School, said she planned to vote for the amendment and had become more wary of officers since Mr. Floyd’s death.“I didn’t realize how much they didn’t care about us and didn’t care about our lives until I watched that video,” Ms. Jones said.Among Black residents, who make up about 19 percent of the population, the amendment fight has laid bare a generational divide. Many older leaders, some veterans of the civil rights era, are opposed, while younger activists were largely responsible for the campaign that collected signatures to put the amendment to a vote.Nekima Levy Armstrong, a civil rights lawyer and the former head of the Minneapolis chapter of the N.A.A.C.P., opposes the amendment, saying the language is too vague.The police station for the Third Precinct was burned during unrest.Aaron Nesheim for The New York Times“When you think about the history of policing in the city of Minneapolis and how hard so many of us have fought over the years to bring awareness, to push for policy changes,” Ms. Levy Armstrong said, “it doesn’t make sense to me at this point that there is not a written plan.”One evening last week, Matthew Thompson, 33, stood holding his baby in Farwell Park in North Minneapolis. He had been an early supporter of proposals to defund the police and had fully expected to vote for the amendment. But when he recently dropped his young son at day care, he learned that the car windows of one of the employees had been shattered by a stray bullet, and he had been hearing more gunshots at night, he said.All of it left him uncertain about how he will vote on Tuesday. “I’m still really conflicted on this,” he said. More

Mr. Williams is exploring a run for governor even as he is poised to win his first full term as public advocate after five elections.When New Yorkers show up to vote on Nov. 2, they will see a familiar name listed on the ballot for public advocate: Jumaane D. Williams, the Democratic incumbent.Because of a quirk in political and electoral timing, this is the third time that Mr. Williams has had to run for public advocate in less than three years.“I’m so honored to be your public advocate,” Mr. Williams told a crowd at a get-out-the-vote rally on Manhattan’s Upper West Side on Sunday. “I’d be honored if you re-elect me one more time.”But Mr. Williams, 45, left another political goal unmentioned that day: He is also a potential candidate for governor.Just a few weeks earlier, Mr. Williams had traveled around the state, meeting with elected officials and potential constituents in Rochester, Syracuse and Hudson, pitching his economic and social vision for the state.Mr. Williams has formed an exploratory committee to run for governor next year in what is expected to be a crowded, competitive Democratic primary field. He would have to unseat the incumbent, Gov. Kathy Hochul, and also might have to beat other candidates who are likely to include the state attorney general, Letitia James.Ms. Hochul, who leads early polls, has been busy fund-raising and collecting endorsements. Ms. James is expected to soon announce her candidacy for governor, while other potential candidates like Mayor Bill de Blasio and Representative Thomas Suozzi also loom.Mr. Williams enjoys some statewide voter recognition: In 2018, he lost to Ms. Hochul in a Democratic primary for lieutenant governor by almost seven percentage points, but did better than expected; he outpaced Ms. Hochul in New York City by 60,000 votes, racking up big totals in Manhattan and Brooklyn, the county with the most registered Democrats in the state.He also would be the clearest left-leaning alternative to Ms. Hochul, a moderate Democrat from Buffalo; Mr. Williams is a self-identified “activist elected official” who says he is a member of the Democratic Socialists of America.Mr. Williams said he was considering running for governor because the power to make groundbreaking changes to affordable housing and criminal justice, the two issues he has focused on most during his political career, resides in the governor’s office.“It might be a dereliction to not even consider running for governor,” Mr. Williams said.“It might be a dereliction not to even consider running for governor,” Mr. Williams said.Anna Watts for The New York TimesYet running for one office while publicly eyeing a higher one can be precarious. Just as the race for governor is heating up. Mr. Williams has had to navigate criticism from his opponents that he is not focused on his job as an ombudsman for the public.“New Yorkers deserve someone who is focused on crime, the economy, the issues that are specific to New York City,” Dr. Devi Nampiaparampil, the Republican nominee for public advocate, said in a debate with Mr. Williams earlier this month. “If you are running for governor, there’s also the fact that you would be distracted campaigning for governor.”.css-1xzcza9{list-style-type:disc;padding-inline-start:1em;}.css-3btd0c{font-family:nyt-franklin,helvetica,arial,sans-serif;font-size:1rem;line-height:1.375rem;color:#333;margin-bottom:0.78125rem;}@media (min-width:740px){.css-3btd0c{font-size:1.0625rem;line-height:1.5rem;margin-bottom:0.9375rem;}}.css-3btd0c strong{font-weight:600;}.css-3btd0c em{font-style:italic;}.css-1kpebx{margin:0 auto;font-family:nyt-franklin,helvetica,arial,sans-serif;font-weight:700;font-size:1.125rem;line-height:1.3125rem;color:#121212;}#NYT_BELOW_MAIN_CONTENT_REGION .css-1kpebx{font-family:nyt-cheltenham,georgia,’times new roman’,times,serif;font-weight:700;font-size:1.375rem;line-height:1.625rem;}@media (min-width:740px){#NYT_BELOW_MAIN_CONTENT_REGION .css-1kpebx{font-size:1.6875rem;line-height:1.875rem;}}@media (min-width:740px){.css-1kpebx{font-size:1.25rem;line-height:1.4375rem;}}.css-1gtxqqv{margin-bottom:0;}.css-16ed7iq{width:100%;display:-webkit-box;display:-webkit-flex;display:-ms-flexbox;display:flex;-webkit-align-items:center;-webkit-box-align:center;-ms-flex-align:center;align-items:center;-webkit-box-pack:center;-webkit-justify-content:center;-ms-flex-pack:center;justify-content:center;padding:10px 0;background-color:white;}.css-pmm6ed{display:-webkit-box;display:-webkit-flex;display:-ms-flexbox;display:flex;-webkit-align-items:center;-webkit-box-align:center;-ms-flex-align:center;align-items:center;}.css-pmm6ed > :not(:first-child){margin-left:5px;}.css-5gimkt{font-family:nyt-franklin,helvetica,arial,sans-serif;font-size:0.8125rem;font-weight:700;-webkit-letter-spacing:0.03em;-moz-letter-spacing:0.03em;-ms-letter-spacing:0.03em;letter-spacing:0.03em;text-transform:uppercase;color:#333;}.css-5gimkt:after{content:’Collapse’;}.css-rdoyk0{-webkit-transition:all 0.5s ease;transition:all 0.5s ease;-webkit-transform:rotate(180deg);-ms-transform:rotate(180deg);transform:rotate(180deg);}.css-eb027h{max-height:5000px;-webkit-transition:max-height 0.5s ease;transition:max-height 0.5s ease;}.css-6mllg9{-webkit-transition:all 0.5s ease;transition:all 0.5s ease;position:relative;opacity:0;}.css-6mllg9:before{content:”;background-image:linear-gradient(180deg,transparent,#ffffff);background-image:-webkit-linear-gradient(270deg,rgba(255,255,255,0),#ffffff);height:80px;width:100%;position:absolute;bottom:0px;pointer-events:none;}.css-1g3vlj0{font-family:nyt-franklin,helvetica,arial,sans-serif;font-size:1rem;line-height:1.375rem;color:#333;margin-bottom:0.78125rem;}@media (min-width:740px){.css-1g3vlj0{font-size:1.0625rem;line-height:1.5rem;margin-bottom:0.9375rem;}}.css-1g3vlj0 strong{font-weight:600;}.css-1g3vlj0 em{font-style:italic;}.css-1g3vlj0{margin-bottom:0;margin-top:0.25rem;}.css-19zsuqr{display:block;margin-bottom:0.9375rem;}.css-12vbvwq{background-color:white;border:1px solid #e2e2e2;width:calc(100% – 40px);max-width:600px;margin:1.5rem auto 1.9rem;padding:15px;box-sizing:border-box;}@media (min-width:740px){.css-12vbvwq{padding:20px;width:100%;}}.css-12vbvwq:focus{outline:1px solid #e2e2e2;}#NYT_BELOW_MAIN_CONTENT_REGION .css-12vbvwq{border:none;padding:10px 0 0;border-top:2px solid #121212;}.css-12vbvwq[data-truncated] .css-rdoyk0{-webkit-transform:rotate(0deg);-ms-transform:rotate(0deg);transform:rotate(0deg);}.css-12vbvwq[data-truncated] .css-eb027h{max-height:300px;overflow:hidden;-webkit-transition:none;transition:none;}.css-12vbvwq[data-truncated] .css-5gimkt:after{content:’See more’;}.css-12vbvwq[data-truncated] .css-6mllg9{opacity:1;}.css-qjk116{margin:0 auto;overflow:hidden;}.css-qjk116 strong{font-weight:700;}.css-qjk116 em{font-style:italic;}.css-qjk116 a{color:#326891;-webkit-text-decoration:underline;text-decoration:underline;text-underline-offset:1px;-webkit-text-decoration-thickness:1px;text-decoration-thickness:1px;-webkit-text-decoration-color:#326891;text-decoration-color:#326891;}.css-qjk116 a:visited{color:#326891;-webkit-text-decoration-color:#326891;text-decoration-color:#326891;}.css-qjk116 a:hover{-webkit-text-decoration:none;text-decoration:none;}The office of public advocate was created to help diversify the city’s leadership and potentially serve as a launching pad to higher office. Both Ms. James, who became the first Black woman elected to citywide office when she became public advocate in 2014, and Mayor Bill de Blasio held the post.Antonio Reynoso, a Democratic councilman from Brooklyn who is likely to win election as the borough president of Brooklyn, is on Mr. Williams’s exploratory committee along with Mr. Lander, also a councilman from Brooklyn and the Democratic nominee for city comptroller.The committee hasn’t met in person, and most of their phone conversations have been focused on Mr. Williams’s re-election effort. “We are doing our best to make sure he does well in the public advocate race,” Mr. Reynoso said. “It’s about timing. He didn’t ask the governor to do what he did and resign.”He challenged Kathy Hochul in a Democratic primary for the lieutenant governor nomination, but she prevailed.Hilary Swift for The New York TimesMr. Williams endorsed and campaigned for India Walton, the socialist who won the Democratic nomination for mayor of Buffalo over the longtime mayor Byron Brown. He is expected to return to Buffalo to campaign for Ms. Walton this weekend; Mr. Brown is still running as a write-in candidate.Mr. Lander said he sees many similarities between Ms. Walton’s race and a potential primary run for governor by Mr. Williams.“That’s an example of someone who has a background as a courageous, progressive organizer who challenged a moderate incumbent in a race where most of the pundits didn’t give her any chance to win,” Mr. Lander said.Even if Mr. Williams were to run and lose in a Democratic primary for governor, a good showing could position him to be a leading far-left voice for New York, a local complement to Representative Alexandria Ocasio-Cortez, also a democratic socialist, said Christina Greer, a political scientist at Fordham University.“There is a progressive wind blowing through the state that Jumaane can capitalize on,” Professor Greer said. “He represents a type of progressive politics that is going to push the conversation to the left.”Brad Lander, a city councilman and the Democratic nominee for comptroller, is on Mr. Williams’s exploratory committee.Chery Dieu-Nalio for The New York TimesA recent Marist poll had Mr. Williams in third place with 15 percent of the vote in a theoretical contest against Ms. Hochul and Ms. James. The governor had 44 percent of the vote and Ms. James had 28 percent among registered New York Democrats. Ms. Hochul also had the highest favorability rating among the three.In his unsuccessful run for lieutenant governor, Mr. Williams positioned himself as a check on Mr. Cuomo’s leadership. He has continued that message in his potential bid for governor, suggesting that Ms. Hochul was ineffectual as Mr. Cuomo’s No. 2.Mr. Williams said that became apparent when New York was the epicenter of the coronavirus pandemic. “That might not have happened if we had a lieutenant governor who was more willing to push,” Mr. Williams said.Ms. Hochul has tackled “low-hanging fruit” since becoming governor, he said, criticizing her for not visiting Rikers Island during a spate of inmate deaths, or seeking more federal resources for the crisis at the jail.“The bar from Cuomo is pretty low,” said Mr. Williams who declined to offer criticisms of Ms. James. (Mr. Williams also refused to comment about the prospect of Mr. de Blasio running for governor.)Meredith Kelly, a spokeswoman for Ms. Hochul, declined to comment.Lee M. Miringoff, the director of the Marist College Institute for Public Opinion, said Mr. Williams would have an uphill battle against Ms. Hochul and Ms. James because he would struggle to match their fund-raising and name recognition.“He probably kicks himself periodically when he sees Hochul on television,” said Mr. Miringoff. “He almost became governor because he was close to becoming lieutenant governor.” More