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    The leftwing defense of Graham Platner is rooted in a false Democratic vision | Moira Donegan

    A young political outsider with a fairly scant record becomes a sensation in a Democratic primary, capturing hearts and minds with a populist message and a disarming charm that translates well into vertical video. His success surges him to the head of the race, and as election day nears, he seems poised to pull off an upset victory that topples one of his district’s most hated and entrenched political machines.It’s a tale of two primaries: the New York City mayoral race, in which the 33-year-old state assembly member Zohran Mamdani defeated the disgraced former governor Andrew Cuomo, and the Maine Senate race, where the political outsider and oyster farmer Graham Platner attracted national attention with a viral campaign.But one of these races has gone much better than the other. In New York, Mamdani has worked to consolidate citywide support following his landslide primary victory, and though he has become a figure of national controversy as Republicans and some Democrats smear him for his race and religion, he has managed to secure broad buy-in from city stakeholders. Mamdani’s opponents, meanwhile, have struggled to create a sense of outrage and scandal around the mayoral contender: despite millions poured into the race from billionaires intent on keeping the Democratic socialist out of office, opposition research into Mamdani seems to be coming up empty. Recently, the New York Post tried, somewhat feebly, to create a scandal out of the fact that Mamdani referred to an older, female relative as his “aunt”, even though technically, she was a distant cousin.Platner’s case looks different. Earlier this month, after Maine’s governor, Janet Mills, entered the Democratic Senate race with the backing of party leaders, a series of increasingly unflattering revelations about Platner’s past behavior came to light. In a series of since-deleted Reddit posts, some from as recently as 2020, Platner made a series of incendiary comments. He claimed that Black people don’t tip (“I work as a bartender and it always amazes me how true the stereotype is,” he wrote. “Every now and again a black patron will leave a 15-20% tip, but usually it [sic] between 0-5%”) and suggested women who have been sexually assaulted were responsible for their own attacks, writing, according to the Washington Post: “If you’re so worried about it to buy Kevlar underwear you’d think you might not get blacked out f—-d up around people you aren’t comfortable with.” A few days later, he went on Pod Save America, the successful liberal podcast hosted by former Obama staffers, seemingly in an effort to get ahead of another unflattering story: that he had a tattoo of a Totenkopf, widely recognized as a Nazi symbol, for nearly 20 years.Platner’s account of the tattoo goes like this: when he was in his early 20s and enlisted in the marines, he was drunk on shore leave in Croatia, and he and his friends went to get a tattoo. Platner selected a Totenkopf, an angled skull and crossbones image used by the SS; he claims he did not know what it meant, and that he merely thought it looked cool. Platner says that he did not know the significance of his tattoo until recently, and has said he is “not a secret Nazi”.But reporting from outlets such as Jewish Insider and CNN contradicts this, with a source to Jewish Insider claiming that Platner had referred to his tattoo by its German name – as “my Totenkopf” – years before. On Pod Save America, Platner broadcast a video of himself, shirtless and evidently inebriated at his brother’s wedding, with the tattoo on display. As a crowd of partygoers looked on, the half-naked Platner sang an off-key version of Miley Cyrus’s Wrecking Ball. He got the tattoo covered up a few days later, appearing shirtless, again, on television to display an odd-looking Celtic knot with a hound motif where the Totenkopf had once been. One wonders how much familiarity with a Senate candidate’s nipples voters are expected to have.Calls accumulated for Platner to drop out of the race. But some, most prominently the Pod Save America hosts themselves, defended Platner, and suggested that the calls for him to step aside were emblematic of what they see as the Democratic party’s core problems: an excessive priggishness and marriage to political correctness. “Only perfect candidates off the harvard law conveyor belt pls,” wrote Jon Lovett sardonically. “Highly disciplined, all boxes checked, well liked and humble, absolutely no spiritual connection to having a physical body except for severe IBS, volunteered at a soup kitchen in high school, signs email ‘cheers,’ etc.” (Lovett did not elaborate on what “spiritual connection to having a physical body” meant in this context.) Ryan Grim, formerly of the Intercept, cast Platner’s rehabilitation in existential terms for the party: “Not to overstate it, but this is a crucial moment for the Democratic Party,” he wrote. “If they decide that normal people with some skeletons in their closet (or inked on their chest) are not welcome, they are finished.” Normal seems to be a flexible term. Ben Burgiss, an adjunct at Rutgers and a columnist at the left-populist magazine Jacobin, put it more bluntly: “I still like Platner a whole lot more than the grim little hall monitors digging up dirt on him,” he wrote on the day that the Totenkopf tattoo story broke. “Sorry.”For his part, Platner was defensive about the need for actions like his to find tolerance and forgiveness in a party that seeks to court male voters. “How do you expect to win young people?” Platner said in an interview with Semafor. “How do you expect to win back men when you go back through somebody’s Reddit history and just pull it all out and say: ‘Oh my God, this person has no right to ever be in politics?’ Good luck with that. Good luck winning over those demographics.”Mamdani and Platner are clearly men of different temperaments. But the men also represent different paths for the Democratic party’s insurgent left wing, as left-populist candidates ride a wave of voter outrage and base anger at Democratic party leadership to pose serious challenges to the party’s mainstream. In Mamdani, what seems to be a genuine political talent has emerged: his uncommonly disciplined message focuses on affordability issues without shying away from pluralist values or seeming to mimic a more rugged, domineering form of masculinity. But in Platner, some pundits and members of the consultant class seem to have found a vehicle for their own project for the party’s reform, one that is less about policy outcomes than about transforming the Democratic party’s image to embrace men, masculinity and a vision of a rugged, rural whiteness.The notion that the Democratic party is losing because it is too feminized – too dominated by women among its voters, leaders and candidates, or not sufficiently comfortable with the style of masculinity represented by Platner – has been bubbling up among left and liberal commentators with increasing insistence over the past decade. The idea is that in catering too much to women, and in being insufficiently deferential to domineering, gruff, physically imposing and implicitly white, rural men, the party has come to seem hectoring, inauthentic and whiny, and lost the voters they need to most recruit: that is, the working class, imagined here, as they so frequently are, as brusque, bigoted, ignorant, vulgar and male.Put aside, for a moment, the misogyny of this assertion: is it true that by becoming too “feminine”, the party will lose the working class? The reality is that the American working class now consists less of the masculine-coded heavy industries like manufacturing and rust-belt steel mills, and more of jobs in the female-dominated service sector. Just under half of American workers are women, but they are the majority of the low-wage workforce. The conflation of the “working class” with maleness is outdated and false, a rhetorical fig leaf that conceals sexism behind a facade of anticapitalist righteousness.One suspects that what is at stake in the pundit defenses of Platner and his masculinity is not so much about electoral outcomes as it is about an idea of what makes power legitimate. When the likes of Lovett, Grim and Burgiss suggest that tolerance for behavior like Platner’s is needed to win elections – an idea that seems to have very little esteem for men and workers, both – they might actually be signaling not so much what they need to do to win, but what kind of victory would be worth having.The infatuation with an idea of a working class that is not represented in the actual numbers is less about a materialist analysis of American politics than it is about a psychic investment in American manhood. The tolerance these pundits are calling for is not an electoral necessity, but a cultural valuation of a certain kind of American over others. It is unfortunate, in the light of Mamdani’s example of how capacious masculinity can be and how needless tolerance for racism and sexism are to an energizing campaign, that these men are choosing to line up behind a man who has displayed, at minimum, some highly questionable judgment.But to many, the Totenkopf-bearing man, shirtless and belting in the video that Platner showed on Pod Save America, is simply more American than others – more authentic, more admirable, more worthy of winning over. Women of color, Jews, rape survivors, Black people, or any of the others that Platner might alienate with this past behavior, meanwhile, seem relatively cheap to them in comparison. This chase for the white male vote as more worthy and important is conspicuous, now, among the liberal pundit class. How are all the other voters supposed to feel about it?

    Moira Donegan is a Guardian US columnist More

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    ‘I’m not a secret Nazi’: Maine Democratic Senate candidate addresses tattoo

    The Maine Democratic Senate candidate Graham Platner attempted to get ahead of potential opposition research by disclosing and explaining a skull-and-crossbones tattoo he has on his chest that resembles Nazi imagery, along with an embarrassing personal video.In a video interview with Pod Save America that aired on Monday, Platner said he and fellow marines got matching tattoos at a parlor in Split, Croatia, in 2007 while deployed overseas.He said that he wanted to address the issues himself before opponents could weaponize them, saying there isn’t anything “worse” or “different” than his problematic Reddit posts that have come back to bite his campaign in recent days, and insisting that he had no knowledge of the imagery’s historical associations.“We chose a terrifying looking skull and crossbones off the wall because we were marines and skulls and crossbones are pretty standard military thing,” he said, “and we got those tattoos, and then we all moved on from our lives.”The tattoo in question resembles the Totenkopf, or “death’s head” symbol, which was adopted by Hitler’s SS during the Nazi era and became particularly associated with the SS-Totenkopfverbande, the branch responsible for guarding concentration camps, according to the Anti-Defamation League.When reached for comment, Platner said: “I absolutely would not have gone through life having this on my chest if I knew that” the tattoo resembled a Nazi symbol. He said he was “already planning to get this removed”.The skull is in full view in video footage he shared with the media company, which shows him dancing in his underwear at his brother’s wedding, lip-syncing Miley Cyrus’s Wrecking Ball in a performance for his sister-in-law.He emphasized in the interview that he was “not a secret Nazi” and pointed to his Reddit comment history as evidence of his opposition to Nazism, antisemitism and racism. “I would say a lifelong opponent,” he stated.The US military already has a policy that checks for extremist, racist and sexist tattoos, and Platner added that the Nazi connection never came up during security screenings, including when he joined the army national guard after his marine service and later for the state department when he worked as security detail for the US ambassador to Afghanistan.“The fact that I’ve managed to go from communist to Nazi in the span of four days according to people who are trying to do this to me I find to be quite a spectacular turn of events,” Platner said.The disclosures come as Platner’s insurgent campaign faced newfound scrutiny. On Friday, he issued a video apology for inflammatory Reddit posts spanning 2013 to 2021, which included calling police officers “bastards”, questioning why Black people tip less, and appearing to agree with characterizations of rural white voters as “racist” and “stupid”.His former political director, Genevieve McDonald, a former state representative who resigned on Friday over the Reddit comments, remained very skeptical about Platner’s explanation of the tattoo.“Platner prides himself on his extensive knowledge of military history,” McDonald said. “While he may not have known what his tattoo meant when he selected the image, it is not plausible he remained ignorant of its meaning all these years.”Platner has emerged as a significant figure in a competitive Senate race to flip Maine, drawing hundreds to town halls and raising nearly $4m while positioning himself as critical of the Democratic establishment, including the Senate minority leader, Chuck Schumer, who he said he would not support.In the podcast interview, Platner maintained he was not trying to conceal the tattoo.“I can honestly say if I was trying to hide it I haven’t been doing a very good job for the last 18 years,” he said. More

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    This Maine oysterman thinks Democrats are doing ‘jack’ about fascism. So he’s running for US Senate

    One of Graham Platner’s high school yearbooks shows him babyfaced with a buzzcut, holding a sign proclaiming, in part: “Free Palestine.” The image is accompanied by a superlative his classmates bestowed upon him: “Most Likely To Start A Revolution.”“Well see!” Platner wrote on X Thursday, posting a photo of the yearbook page, in a post that’s been viewed 4.5m times. Now bearded, burly and tattooed, with a sweep of dirty blond hair above a sunburnt face, Platner still believes in a free Palestine. He also thinks it’ll take something revolutionary to save the US, so earlier this week, when the oysterman announced his candidacy to be the next US senator from Maine, he pulled no punches.“I did four infantry tours in the Marine Corps and the army. I’m not afraid to name an enemy, and the enemy is the oligarchy. It’s the billionaires who pay for it, the politicians who sell us out,” he said in a campaign launch video, showing him chopping wood and at the helm of a small fishing boat.“And yeah, that means politicians like Susan Collins. I’m not fooled by this fake charade of Collins’ deliberations and moderation.”Platner’s video went viral, his message punching through in a crowded field of Democratic primary candidates, all vying for the chance to defeat Collins. Despite her protestations of being a “moderate”, Collins, a 72-year-old Republican senator, has often aligned herself with Donald Trump’s far-right agenda.Democrats thought they had a real shot to unseat Collins in 2020. Sara Gideon raised $40m more than Collins, and polls showed Gideon in the lead, but she still lost by nine points in a state her fellow Democrat, Joe Biden, won handily.Now, the Democratic party is trying again, seeing Collins’s seat as crucial to their chances of taking back the US Senate in 2026. Establishment Democrats have eyed Maine governor Janet Mills as a potential candidate, but Mills has yet to jump into the race.Platner believes the party needs an outsider. He believes that pedigreed, establishment Democratic candidates have failed repeatedly to appeal to working-class Americans, hastening the rise of Maga.“Most Trump supporters I know think that the system is screwing them,” Platner says.View image in fullscreen“They think it is not working on their behalf. They think that they are being robbed by the ultra-wealthy. And these are all true statements. When I talk to them about these things, we are all in full agreement. And in many ways, this is at the core of why we are in the straits that we are in. The Democratic party has in many ways lost those people, not all of them, but some over the years, by not being clearly a party of the working class, representing the interests of the working class.”Platner’s populist brand of politics grew, in part, out of his experience in the military. He enlisted in the Marine Corps after high school and deployed to Iraq three times. When he returned home, he went to George Washington University on the GI bill, before deciding to enlist again, this time with the army national guard. He was deployed to Afghanistan.“I witnessed the just horrific human cost of those wars,” he says. “Both for the young American men and women who were deployed, but also the people in the countries that we invaded.”He grew disillusioned, eventually realizing that the US’s “military adventurism” was “a mechanism of moving taxpayer dollars into the private bank accounts of defense companies, all on the backs of frankly working-class men and women, and on the backs of the people living in societies that we took the wars to”.Platner went from Afghanistan back home to Sullivan, Maine, taking a job on an oyster farm – across Frenchman Bay from Acadia national park – which he now runs. He got married and seemed to be settling down for a quiet life, but says he saw his friends and neighbors struggle with rising healthcare costs, shuttered hospitals and housing prices that forced many to move away.“This isn’t a vanity project,” Platner says of his Senate campaign. If anything, he says, the campaign has thrown his life into “a bit of disarray”. He’s doing it because he cares about the community that has cared for him and believes in a type of politics that may have appeal across the political spectrum – one he believes has the ability to stop the rising tide of fascism in the US.“Government can provide good things for people like I have been provided – a good life by the support I get from the VA [Department of Veterans Affairs], both in healthcare and in housing, and I don’t think that people should have to go fight in foreign wars to get those things. I think they should get those things just by being an American,” he says.His policy proposals – Medicare for all, the return of “serious federal support for building housing” and a “billionaire minimum tax”, among others – may not sound too dissimilar from the platforms of progressive independents like Bernie Sanders. But Platner is wary of labels, eschewing words like “liberal” or “leftie”.It’s not only because he doesn’t present like your stereotypical progressive – he’s a veteran, an oysterman and a competitive shooter, spending his weekends at the local gunnery. He doesn’t like political labels, he says, because “we have far more in common with our neighbors than we do with anyone who’s up in the stratospherically wealthy elite … By trying to force people into these little holes, that keeps folks divided, and I don’t think there’s any value in that.”Similarly, Platner sees “culture war” issues as distractions. His campaign platform – unlike a lot of establishment Democrats – is unequivocal in its support of marginalized groups. On immigrants, he’s called out the government for “kidnapping people off the streets and imprisoning them in hellish conditions” and says he “will support a path to citizenship and an end to the mass deportation machine”.On queer people, his website states he’s tired of “politicians using small groups of people as a punching bag – be it race, or gender identity, or sexual orientation”.“I will support passing, at last, federal LGBTQ anti-discrimination legislation,” it says.As he surveys the American political scene, Platner is enraged by a Democratic party he sees as more interested in raising money than helping people, a party willing to appease Maga, to meet it in the middle, instead of fighting it.“Nothing pisses me off more than getting a fundraising text from Democrats talking about how they’re fighting fascism…,” he tweeted on Wednesday. “Because it’s such bullshit. We’re not idiots. Everyone knows most of them aren’t doing jack shit right now to fight back. People are being kidnapped into unmarked vans by masked police. There is a genocide happening in Palestine. Literal billionaires have taken over our government. And all Democratic leadership can do is send us another fundraising text?”For now, Platner is an oysterman and harbormaster in Sullivan, diving into the water to moor boats so they don’t float out to sea in a storm, but he believes his next job will be in Washington DC.“We need to give people hope,” he says. “We need to show them that there still is an element in American politics that wants to fight on their behalf and comes from them. That’s not something that comes from on high. We need to build the concept of working-class politics again, and I think that is very much the mechanism of how we move forward.” More

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    ‘Morally Offensive and Fiscally Reckless’: 3 Writers on Trump’s Big Gamble

    Frank Bruni, a contributing Opinion writer, hosted a written online conversation with Nate Silver, the author of “On the Edge: The Art of Risking Everything” and the newsletter Silver Bulletin, and Lis Smith, a Democratic communications strategist and author of the memoir “Any Given Tuesday: A Political Love Story,” to discuss the aftermath of the passage of President Trump’s One Big, Beautiful Bill.Frank Bruni: Let’s start with that megabill, the bigness of which made the consequences of its enactment hard to digest quickly. Now that we’ve had time to, er, chew it over, I’m wondering if you think Democrats are right to say — to hope — that it gives them a whole new traction in next year’s midterms.I mean, the most significant Medicaid cuts kick in after that point. Could Trump and other Republicans avoid paying a price for them in 2026? Or did they get much too cute in constructing the legislation and building in that delay and create the possibility of disaster for themselves in both 2026 and 2028, when the bill’s effect on Medicaid, as well as on other parts of the safety net, will have taken hold?Lis Smith: If history is any guide, Republicans will pay a price for these cuts in the midterms. In 2010, Democrats got destroyed for passing Obamacare, even though it would be years until it was fully implemented. In 2018, Republicans were punished just for trying to gut it. Voters don’t like politicians messing with their health care. They have been pretty consistent in sending that message.I’d argue that Democrats have an even more potent message in 2026 — it’s not just that Republicans are messing with health care, it’s that they are cutting it to fund tax cuts for the richest Americans.Nate Silver: What I wonder about is Democrats’ ability to sustain focus on any given issue. At the risk of overextrapolating from my home turf in New York, Zohran Mamdani just won a massive upset in the Democratic mayoral primary by focusing on affordability. And a message on the Big, Beautiful Bill could play into that. But the Democratic base is often more engaged by culture war issues, or by messages that are about Trump specifically — and Trump isn’t on the ballot in 2026 — rather than Republicans broadly. The polls suggest that the Big, Beautiful Bill is extremely unpopular, but a lot of those negative views are 1) among people who are extremely politically engaged and already a core Democratic constituency, or 2) snap opinions among the disengaged that are subject to change. Democrats will need to ensure that voters are still thinking about the bill next November, and tying it to actual or potential changes that affect them directly and adversely.We are having trouble retrieving the article content.Please enable JavaScript in your browser settings.Thank you for your patience while we verify access. If you are in Reader mode please exit and log into your Times account, or subscribe for all of The Times.Thank you for your patience while we verify access.Already a subscriber? Log in.Want all of The Times? Subscribe. More

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    Move to Canada? Migrants Face ‘No Good Options’ After Supreme Court Ruling.

    Migrants from Cuba, Haiti, Nicaragua and Venezuela who entered the United States legally under a Biden-era program are now scrambling.On weekend mornings, the La Boulangerie Bakery in East Orange, N.J., is normally bustling with customers who come for its Haitian baked goods, cookies and coconut sweets.It was empty on Saturday, a day after a Supreme Court ruling made many Haitians and other immigrants who came to the United States legally vulnerable to deportation.“Look around,” said the owner, Rosemond Clerval, 50. “People are afraid.”The Supreme Court on Friday allowed the Trump administration to revoke temporary legal status from immigrants who qualified for humanitarian parole under a program that began in 2022 and 2023 under the Biden administration. It allowed certain immigrants from Cuba, Haiti, Nicaragua and Venezuela to come to the United States and stay for up to two years.Now, tens of thousands of immigrants who only recently fled instability in their home countries and thought they had found a temporary legal refuge in the United States are facing a daunting, new dilemma.Where to go from here?Some were making plans to move to Canada, rather than face being picked up by Immigration and Customs Enforcement, said Jeffrey Thielman, the president of the International Institute of New England, which works with refugees and immigrants in the Boston area and beyond.“They’re trying to figure out where else they can go,” Mr. Thielman said. “The bottom line is that these folks can’t go back to Haiti.”We are having trouble retrieving the article content.Please enable JavaScript in your browser settings.Thank you for your patience while we verify access. If you are in Reader mode please exit and log into your Times account, or subscribe for all of The Times.Thank you for your patience while we verify access.Already a subscriber? Log in.Want all of The Times? Subscribe. More

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    Win for Maine as Trump officials agree to halt school funding freeze

    The Trump administration has agreed not to freeze funds to Maine schools, a win for a state that was targeted by the president over its support of transgender rights.In a settlement disclosed on Friday, the US Department of Agriculture (USDA) said it would halt all efforts to withhold funds for a child nutrition program in Maine. The USDA had suspended those dollars after Maine officials said the state would not comply with Donald Trump’s demands that trans girls be barred from participating in girls’ sports.In February, when the president directly threatened to revoke funding from the state at a White House meeting with governors, Janet Mills, Maine’s Democratic governor, had responded, “We’ll see you in court,” in a widely shared exchange.Maine then sued the USDA last month to maintain its funding and agreed on Friday to drop its lawsuit in exchange for the restoration of funds.“It’s good to feel a victory like this,” the governor said a press conference, the Portland Press Herald reported. “I stood in the White House and when confronted by the president of the United States, I told him I’d see him in court. Well, we did see him in court, and we won.”The governor said USDA had frozen funds for a program that helps feed 172,000 children in the state, the paper reported.The USDA did not immediately respond to a request for comment.The settlement says the USDA and Brooke Rollins, the secretary of agriculture, “agree to refrain from freezing, termination, or otherwise interfering with the state of Maine’s access to United States Department of Agriculture funds … based on alleged violations of Title IX without first following all legally required procedures”.The Trump administration had alleged that Maine’s policy of allowing transgender youth’s participation in sports violated Title IX, the federal anti-discrimination law.Maine’s attorneys argued that the child nutrition program received or was due to receive more than $1.8m for the current fiscal year. Prior year funds that were awarded but are currently inaccessible total more than $900,000, the lawsuit said. The complaint also said that the program was anticipating about $3m that is typically awarded every July for summer meal program sponsor administration and meal reimbursement.A federal judge had ordered the Trump administration to unfreeze funds last month after finding that Maine was likely to succeed in its legal challenge.Aaron Frey, the Maine attorney general, said in a statement on Friday: “It’s unfortunate that my office had to resort to federal court just to get USDA to comply with the law and its own regulations.“But we are pleased that the lawsuit has now been resolved and that Maine will continue to receive funds as directed by Congress to feed children and vulnerable adults.”The settlement does not affect another ongoing lawsuit filed by the Trump administration against the Maine department of education over its policy for trans athletes.Mills said Friday she was “confident” the state would also prevail in that case, the Portland Press Herald reported. The governor, who has said the dispute was about defending states’ rights, added: “These bullying tactics, we will not tolerate them.” More

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    12 States Sue Trump Over His Tariffs

    A dozen states, most of them led by Democrats, sued President Trump over his tariffs on Wednesday, arguing that he has no power to “arbitrarily impose tariffs as he has done here.”Contending that only Congress has the power to legislate tariffs, the states are asking the court to block the Trump administration from enforcing what they said were unlawful tariffs.“These edicts reflect a national trade policy that now hinges on the president’s whims rather than the sound exercise of his lawful authority,” said the lawsuit, filed by the states’ attorneys general in the U.S. Court of International Trade.The states, including New York, Illinois and Oregon, are the latest parties to take the Trump administration to court over the tariffs. Their case comes after California filed its own lawsuit last week, in which Gov. Gavin Newsom and the state attorney general accused the administration of escalating a trade war that has caused “immediate and irreparable harm” to that state’s economy.Officials and businesses from Oregon, the lead plaintiff in the suit filed Wednesday, have also expressed concerns about the vulnerability of the state’s trade-dependent economy, as well as its sportswear industry, as a result of the tariffs.“When a president pushes an unlawful policy that drives up prices at the grocery store and spikes utility bills, we don’t have the luxury of standing by,” said Dan Rayfield, Oregon’s attorney general, in a statement. “These tariffs hit every corner of our lives — from the checkout line to the doctor’s office — and we have a responsibility to push back.”Asked about the latest lawsuit, Kush Desai, a White House spokesman, called it a “witch hunt” by Democrats against Mr. Trump. “The Trump administration remains committed to using its full legal authority to confront the distinct national emergencies our country is currently facing,” he said, “both the scourge of illegal migration and fentanyl flows across our border and the exploding annual U.S. goods trade deficit.”The other states in the suit are Arizona, Colorado, Connecticut, Delaware, Maine, Minnesota, Nevada, New Mexico and Vermont. All of the states have Democratic attorneys general, though Nevada and Vermont have Republican governors.Mr. Trump’s tariffs have shocked and upended the global trade industry. He set a 145 percent tariff on goods from China, 25 percent on Canada, and 10 percent on almost all imports from most other countries.The moves have drawn legal challenges from other entities as well, including two members of the Blackfeet Nation, who filed a federal lawsuit in Montana over the tariffs on Canada, saying they violated tribal treaty rights. Legal groups like the Liberty Justice Center and the New Civil Liberties Alliance have also sued. “I’m happy that Oregon and the other states are joining us in this fight,” said Ilya Somin, a law professor at George Mason University, who is working on the Liberty Justice Center’s lawsuit. More

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    Why I quit my homestead dream just as farmer tradwives became mainstream

    Our homesteading experiment began before tradwives, before Donald Trump, before Covid-19. It was the summer of 2015 when we were all sure no one would vote for a former reality TV star. I was 25 years old and desperate for a security blanket, working a sales job and looking for excuses not to return to college.My husband, Patrick, and I had talked about farming since our first date. We wanted goats. At his 2-acre property in a quiet suburb of Portland, Maine, we kept a few chickens and a scrawny vegetable garden.One morning, Patrick texted me: “I found the place. You’re going to love it. It’s uber cute.”Ninety-three acres in midcoast Maine, with an abandoned farmhouse and huge barn. Overgrown fields, alders encroaching across a pool of fetid swamp water to scratch against the door, no floor in the kitchen, and a single pipe gravity-feeding spring water from the mountain side. A three-hole outhouse was the extent of the plumbing.It was perfect.View image in fullscreen“What’s your end goal, man?” asked Patrick’s old college roommate. “What are you imagining in five years? Her barefoot and pregnant in the garden?”It was 2015 and you could still buy a piece of rural heaven for less than a small fortune – if you were willing to put in some sweat equity. We put a deposit down on some goats and signed our mortgage.Back-to-the-land wasn’t a political statement then. Sure, your urban friends would think you’d lost it, but not in an anti-vax, don’t-tread-on-me way. I had no desire to be barefoot, nor pregnant. But we were still in the honeymoon phase of our relationship, and building a life together from scratch had its romantic draw.I told myself I was sucking the marrow out of life, as Henry David Thoreau had once done. I even wore a T-shirt that said “Resistance is Fertile”. I thought of homesteading as an overtly political – even rebellious – act.Homesteading was in my blood. My mother had gone back-to-the-land with her first husband in the early 1970s, inspired by Helen and Scott Nearing, hippie icons who taught a generation to “live simply and sanely in a troubled world” with their book, Living the Good Life (1954). Scott Nearing was an outspoken pacifist, communist and protester. He and his wife, Helen, ate raw foods, tended their own land and railed against capitalism long before there were TikTok trends on the subject.Before my mother moved to Maine, she went to her grandparents to share the news of her move. They had grown up on a hardscrabble Missouri farm during the dust bowl. They had moved to town for a reliable job and to give their deaf daughter, my grandmother, the opportunity to study.When my mother told Daddy Kays, as she knew him, about her plans to go rural, he was horrified. Why do you want to do that? he asked. Why would anyone choose to go back to subsistence living? Why did my mother insist on denying what my great grandfather saw as progress?My mother left her homestead in the late 1980s. She moved to town to provide a better education for her young daughters, to seek more stable employment, and to leave a Sisyphean list of chores. By this time, many homesteaders were joining her in shifting back to a less isolated existence.The few who remained largely credited not a deeper sense of political motivation, but a strong community. Where homesteaders had gathered in groups, they seemed to remain. The Nearings had cultivated a following of interns and volunteers who showed up each year and had gradually settled around their homestead in Harborside, Maine. To this day, that area remains a haven for self-sufficient living.It could never be said that Patrick and I did things halfway. For two years, we showered outside in the negative temperatures and biting winds of a Maine winter. We preserved our harvests, bottle fed baby goats, raised pigs and chickens and geese and sheep. Patrick rebuilt our entire home from the studs. Fields were cleared and hayed to feed our animals. All of our equipment came from barters, trades and Craigslist. For what we couldn’t find a good deal on, we made do. Our lives revolved around the movement of firewood, without which we would freeze in winter.View image in fullscreenI wrote a book on our lifestyle – So You Want to Be a Modern Homesteader? – and shared our journey on social media. Through this outreach we connected with others making a similar leap, a community that was tiny and fringe before the interest in rural living sparked during the pandemic and ensuing lockdowns. We greeted each other, in person and online, with the excitement of people into some shared niche hobby. We troubleshot problems, speculated on livestock choices and traded sourdough starters.Even before terms such as “tradwife” became popular, I noticed remarkable consistency in our homesteading friends. When a couple would show up at our farm to buy a goat or lamb, they’d bundle out of their unblemished Volvos with a snot-nosed toddler swaddled in one car seat in the back, the other car seat occupied by a sleeping infant. The mother would have kind, slightly confused eyes and an instant attraction to animals. The men were bearded, in lumberjack plaid.It got to the point I would joke that I could not tell my friends’ husbands apart, so uniform was their charcoal facial hair. The men always knew what they were doing: brimming with the self confidence of someone who recently read Everything I Want to Do is Illegal, possessed of at least one scheme to provide for his family while living off the land.After five years, our routine was set. The farmhouse had electricity and running water. We’d cleared the fields and put in a farm pond. Every spring we welcomed a new batch of goat kids and lambs that we sold, we milked our goats and sheared our sheep. We turned over our land sustainably using pigs, and we collected dozens upon dozens of eggs every day from the chickens, ducks and geese.View image in fullscreenWe were also very tired. We fell into bed every night exhausted, and woke up and did it again. There was little time for hobbies outside of running the farm, and less for intimacy. There was no time for travel – even going down the coast to see our parents had to be planned and limited to a few hours out of the day. When we did have time to sit together, we bickered about chores and finances strained by hungry animals. The addition of an indoor shower did little to remove the grime that stuck in our emotions.Faced with exhaustion and burnout, for a few years we tried to downsize, to reverse out of our headlong rush into self-sufficiency. To make time for occasional date nights and rest, we tried to sell a few animals here and there, but the chores still piled up.skip past newsletter promotionafter newsletter promotionThen in late 2019, Patrick’s son died unexpectedly. In the onslaught of grief, we had to manage feeding dozens of animals and moving firewood in for the winter. Have you ever had to make sure that a funeral would be over in time for evening chores?Soon after, Covid arrived. Within the online homesteading community, jokes made the rounds about how well positioned for a pandemic we were: we did not need supply chains or contact with the outside world to thrive. And yet there is a difference between choosing to stay at home on the farm and having to, particularly when the farm is wrapped in a thick cloak of sorrow.By the end of the first year of the pandemic, we were ready to get off the farm. And then our entire flock of more than a hundred birds succumbed to bird flu, which at the time was a new avian disaster. Our abundant flock of friends and entertainers disappeared overnight, culled in the wake of a burgeoning pandemic.Community can save a homestead from failing under this kind of stress. But as we tended to our tragedies, the community around us had shifted.People had started making careers out of being influencers and content creators. The homesteading world was no less full of social media personalities than the rest of the internet. And when Covid lockdowns hit in 2020, anyone who was online talking about self-sufficiency had an opportunity. Those of us who had shared our homesteading journeys since we first shot up on Instagram’s algorithm in 2013 were getting phone calls from places including the New York Times asking us about our lifestyle. Our follower counts had exploded. We – the fringes, the freaks – were the popular kids now.Leaning in to the popularity of from-scratch living was a recipe for success. Hannah Neeleman’s Ballerina Farm, once home to rough-and-ready farm life and now curated to a perfect prairie-wife aesthetic, has 10 million followers. All of my other contacts who leaned into the buzz around self-sufficiency in 2020-2021 now have hundreds of thousands of followers.Unfortunately for my pocketbook, I was wrapped up in several blankets worth of troubles at that time, forgetting to reply to emails and sometimes forgetting to just get out of bed.Not all of my friends went full “tradwife”. Some simply began to prothetize more about organic methods, no till gardens, and permaculture practices. They DIYed themselves crazy. How many of them had outside help to manage a menagerie of animals and a list of home improvement projects? Far more than ever mentioned help.Thoreau had brought his laundry into town for his mother. Now, today’s homestead influencers have perfected promoting a from scratch lifestyle while utilizing invisible helping hands at every turn.A less welcoming community grew around these very online homesteaders. When a follower would realize my political views swung left, they’d pepper my pictures with comments about how they’d thought they liked me until they found out I was a radical lefty. Several new homesteading festivals have sprung up around the country, including the popular Homesteaders of America Conference, which draws almost 10,000 homesteaders annually and welcomes speakers such as Joel Salatin, an outspoken libertarian linked to possible roles in the Trump administration and Nick Freitas, a far-right state delegate from Virginia who has referred to the Affordable Care Act as a “cancer”.View image in fullscreenFor those reasons, the embrace of traditional living gave me pause. In between the grief and the daily grind, my community – online and in real life – was becoming more hostile. There were subjects that could not be talked about, loud unfollows when opinions became known, and a lifestyle that had been fun and alternative was warped by ugly exclusion.It felt as if a curtain had been pulled back from my lifestyle choice. I had enjoyed the connection to my food and the land through sustainable living, but I had never thought of my lifestyle as a step backwards in time. I had laughed at the idea I might someday be barefoot and pregnant in the garden. But, with a never ending list of homestead to-dos, I was as tied to the wood stove and the milking routine as an 1800s woman before me.The happiest “homesteaders” I know continue to thrive in semi-urban environments, with neighbors who stop by to check on the ducks if they want a break from the farm. Most of them are minimally online, disengaged from the performative fetishization of the lifestyle. They keep one foot in the garden, and one on the pavement of society.Today, Patrick and I keep a few goats and a garden in the backyard. We have the ability to leave the farm now and then for a trip, and we’re in the process of moving closer to family and culture. We are taking steps to ensure that our hard work is preserved, working with a land conservation group to keep the property in farmland long after we are gone.We have no aspirations towards self-sufficiency, but a desire to experience varied aspects of life while remaining connected to our food sources. I now have a set of skills I can draw on if I find myself in the kind of calamitous situation that sections of the homesteader community are prepping for. I feel a deep appreciation for the labor of food production. I’ve also learned to embrace the freedom of progress. Today, I run, I read, I write, I take the time to walk in nature and sit and converse with my husband.Today, I am able to slow down and live. More