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    Tens of thousands in US set to join ‘Good Trouble’ anti-Trump protests honoring John Lewis

    Tens of thousands of people are joining marches and rallies at more than 1,500 sites across all 50 US states on Thursday to protest against the Trump administration and honor the legacy of the late congressman John Lewis, an advocate for voting rights and civil disobedience.The “Good Trouble Lives On” day of action coincides with the fifth anniversary of Lewis’s death. Lewis was a longtime congressman from Georgia who participated in iconic civil rights actions, including the march from Selma to Montgomery in 1965 when police attacked Lewis and other protesters on the Edmund Pettus Bridge.Lewis implored people to participate in “good trouble, necessary trouble” to advance their causes, and this call serves as the underpinning for the 17 July actions. Dozens of advocacy and civil rights organizations are signed on as partners for the event.“The civil rights leaders of the past have shown us the power of collective action,” the protest’s website says. “That’s why on July 17, five years since the passing of congressman John Lewis, communities across the country will take to the streets, courthouses, and community spaces to carry forward his fight for justice, voting rights, and dignity for all.”Organizers said before Thursday’s events that they expect tens of thousands of people to turn out in small towns, suburbs and cities, the latest exercise of street protests distributed across the country to show opposition to Trump in all corners of the US. The last mass day of protest, No Kings, in June drew several million people in one of the biggest single days of protest in US history. Thursday’s events will probably be smaller as it is a weekday.Chicago will host the day’s flagship event Thursday evening, with additional main sites in Atlanta, St Louis, Annapolis and Oakland. Events include rallies, marches, candlelight vigils, food drives, direct action trainings, teach-ins and voter registration drives.The protest’s demands include an end to the Trump administration’s crackdown on civil rights, including the right to protest and voting rights; targeting of Black and brown Americans, immigrants and trans people; and the slashing of social programs like Medicaid and the Supplemental Nutrition Assistance Program (Snap), known colloquially as “food stamps”.“One of the things that John Lewis would always say is that if you see something that’s wrong, you have an obligation to speak up, to say something, to do something,” Daryl Jones, co-leader of the Transformative Justice Coalition, told reporters on Thursday. “That’s what July 17 is about – seeing things across this nation, seeing things that are being impacted, that are just not right. We’ve got to stand up and say something.” More

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    The Rev William Barber’s ‘moral movement’ confronts Trump’s America. Can it work?

    On 2 June, at St Mark’s Episcopal church in Washington DC, people packed the sanctuary – elders in denim jackets, seminarians in collars, organizers clutching clipboards. Some had come in from North Carolina; others walked from their homes just a few blocks away. The seats were full, so the crowd lined the aisles and leaned against the red-brick walls beneath stained-glass windows that cast streaks of light across the floor.It was the first Moral Monday of the summer – a tradition of weekly, nonviolent protest that began in North Carolina in 2013 and now serves as the beating heart of the Rev William Barber’s national movement to end poverty and systemic injustice. “I am not afraid,” the congregation sang. They clapped in rhythm. They swayed in place. Their voices, layered and lived in, reverberated through the rafters: “I would die for liberation, because I know why I was made.” It was part worship, part invocation, part warning. They folded into the center of the sanctuary as they sang covenants of nonviolence – pledges to neither resist arrest nor retaliate, to remain disciplined and dignified in the face of confrontation. One organizer stepped forward and asked them to consider the gravity of what they were saying. “In every cell of your body,” he said, “do you believe that?”Barber, the co-chair of the revived Poor People’s campaign, a national movement to challenge inequality in all its forms through moral protest and policy change, has spent years preparing people for moments like this. Barber draws on a tradition that views justice as a covenant rather than charity, as a sacred demand to confront moral rot. Right now, that means challenging the Trump administration’s second-term agenda – and the Republican-controlled Congress advancing legislation that would slash Medicaid, food assistance and public education, while simultaneously giving tax breaks to some of the wealthiest Americans – or what Barber has simply called “policy murder”, a wholesale dismantling of services for the poor and vulnerable.But Barber’s battle is both a moral rebellion against Trump’s America and against the deeper architecture of inequality that has survived every administration. His movement doesn’t simply resist a president. It challenges a political theology that weds nationalism to capitalism and cloaks exploitation in scripture. In Barber’s view, Trump isn’t the disease – he’s the symptom of a nation that never fully confronted its sins. “Jesus was not crucified because he was just talking about private sin,” he told me. “He was crucified because he turned over the money tables. That’s where government and religion had come into an unholy relationship, and were robbing from the poor.”View image in fullscreenIn a sermon the day before, Barber had turned to 2 Kings – to four lepers outside a besieged city, caught between certain death and uncertain deliverance. “Why sit we here until we die?” they ask, before rising to move toward the enemy camp. That movement, Barber reminded his audience, is what made the miracle possible. The lepers rose to risk the unknown and found the enemy had already left, leaving behind food, shelter and silver. Deliverance had already come; it just took the marginalized to move first. The US is in its own such moment, Barber said. “This is murder by policy,” he preached, pointing to the $1.1tn in proposed cuts to healthcare, food aid and climate infrastructure. “We cannot stay here and die.”Organizers passed protest signs around the sanctuary like communion: Fund Life, Not Death. Our Faith Demands Justice, Not Policy Murder. Handouts followed: 13.7 million people are at risk of losing health insurance. Eleven million at risk of losing food assistance. Billions redirected from public programs to tax breaks for corporations, defense contractors and deportation forces. Congress was deliberating over what Barber calls a “big, bad, ugly, disgusting, deadly budget”, and they wanted to take a moral stand.The room was intentionally diverse – it’s what Barber calls a fusion movement, rooted in the idea that poor and working people across race, religion and region have a moral force capable of reshaping the nation. They prayed. They assigned roles. Some would march. Some would risk arrest. All would bear witness. Slowly, deliberately, the congregation began to move. First, those in wheelchairs; then the people along the walls peeled off. Then, one section at a time, released with care – no rush, no clamor. They lined up two by two, like they were boarding an ark. It was a practiced procession, not chaos. The organizers had been clear: move like the black-and-white footage you’ve seen, like those who marched before you – with order, with discipline, with conviction.“When politicians and priests bless policies that hurt the poor,” Barber said, “that’s when the prophets have to rise.” For Barber, this is the prophet’s role: to expose, to indict and to force a moral reckoning in the public square. The structure of his movement’s actions, the insistence on grounding resistance in both scripture and strategy, is shaped by a long religious protest tradition in the US. Now, under a second Trump term, with safety nets unraveling and rights under siege, that witness feels urgent again. As the movement experiments with decentralized leadership, more youth recruitment and a sharper digital presence, it will have to decide: is it a movement to awaken the conscience, or to seize the wheel? Can this movement still meet the scale of today’s coordinated assault on democracy, rights and the poor?‘Silence is not an option’Barber met the demonstrators at the corner of East Capitol Street NE and 1st Street SE, where the procession paused before the slow walk towards the steps of the supreme court. He stood with his cane in hand, a white stole slung over his shoulders that read: “Jesus was a poor man.” He joined the group like a hinge between past and present. No microphone. No grand announcement. Just a nod, a steadying breath, and then a turn toward the supreme court.Passersby smiled and posed for selfies, unaware or unbothered by the stakes. The procession kept moving, members singing as they went. The air filled with hymns and the weight of memory. At the court steps, the crowd swelled; marshals implored folks to move closer. They sang battle hymns through the speaker system, a thread of the sacred pulled taut across the concrete. The day was structured to echo the civil rights movement, orderly, solemn and visually potent.When Barber took the mic, he drew on the movement’s rhetorical authority as well. “We gather here not in protest alone,” Barber said, “but in prophetic power. We stand not just as people of faith, but as stewards of moral memory. Injustice has written itself into the budget lines, and silence is not an option when lives hang in the balance of a ledger.” Barber reminded the crowd that the country’s wounds were not just policy failures; they were moral abscesses. “There can be no healing of the soul of America without healing the body,” he said. Not while people are starving. Not while they’re uninsured. Not while injustice is passed off as fiscal responsibility.View image in fullscreenHe said something similar in 2020, in the days after Biden was elected president and many people across the nation released what felt like four years of held breath. Biden called for unity; Barber pushed back. “There has to be division before there can be healing,” he said. In Barber’s theology, peace doesn’t mean calm. It means justice. False unity, he warned, is not reconciliation – it’s complicity. And that is the deeper challenge beneath Barber’s movement: not just to resist one budget, or even one party, but to confront the country’s underlying sickness: its habit of mistaking cruelty for order, and order for peace.‘What will you do with the breath you have left?’“They say they’re cutting waste, fraud and abuse. But what they’re saying is it’s wasteful to lift people, fraudulent to help them live and abusive to make sure they have healthcare,” he said. For a moment, it felt like the church services I’d grown up in. Come on, Barber! a clergyman shouted. Yessuh! a resonant voice rang from the other side of the crowd. By the time Barber started whooping – stretching his syllables as his voice reached a thunderous crescendo – the crowd had been whipped into a passionate holler.Barber told stories of movement members who died without care – Pam in Alabama, Jade in North Carolina – who called him not for comfort, but for commitment. Don’t quit, they said. “They had the courage to fight even while they were dying,” he said. “We ought to have the courage to fight while we’re living.”Then he slowed and asked a simple question to those gathered: “What will you do with the breath you have left?” The question hung in the air. He didn’t wait for an answer. A few days later, he told me why it sticks with him. “That was George Floyd’s cry. That was my brother’s cry – he died in his 60s, waiting on healthcare. That was the cry of people during Covid: ‘I can’t breathe.’ That’s what I hear when I say that,” he told me. “The breath you have left – that’s what you’ve been given. That’s what you owe.”Breath is a gift and a responsibility. “We’re not gonna sit here and let healthcare die,” he said. “We’re not gonna sit here and let living wages die. We’re not gonna sit here and let democracy die. It’s time to live. It’s time to stand. It’s time to speak. To protest. To live justice.” The line echoed down 1st Street. Whether it reached the halls of power was another question.Fusion organizingBarber has always insisted this movement isn’t built for the news cycle. “Movements are not driven by whether the media covers it,” he told me. “They’re driven by whether it’s right. You don’t build fusion coalitions because it’s sexy, you build it because it’s necessary.”The spotlight matters, though. And as the glare has dimmed since 2020, so too has the movement’s leverage in elite policy spaces. For Obery Hendricks, a professor in the department of religion at Columbia University, the tension is theological and tactical. Barber speaks from the Black prophetic tradition, a tradition that calls out injustice with moral clarity. But clarity alone isn’t always enough. “Too often, prophetic rhetoric is co-opted as performance,” Hendricks told me. “It becomes poetry without praxis.”But even when the national spotlight is not focused on the organization, that hasn’t stopped the Poor People’s campaign from lining up in moral opposition to what it sees as destructive policy across the country. “People say, where’s the movement?” Barber told me. “We say, where are you? The movement is here. Maybe you’re just not paying attention.” Fusion organizing in 2025 isn’t theory – it’s practice. Amazon workers marching with choirs in Alabama. Climate activists linking arms with veterans on Capitol Hill. Disability advocates and union reps shaping policy in North Carolina. Barber’s once-local campaign is now connected with movements across the country, from Georgia’s voting rights drives to Los Angeles’s housing struggles.Sometimes, the actions pay off. Inside of St Mark’s, I met Emma Biggs, a childcare advocate from North Carolina who had made the trip to DC for the rally. She had joined similar protests before. In June of last year, she was among those who were arrested inside the state legislature while protesting a looming childcare shortfall. The state legislature had passed a stopgap funding bill by the time protesters were released.To Vaughn A Booker, a scholar of religion and African American history at the University of Pennsylvania, though, the power of Barber’s model lies more in its moral insurgency than the results it produces. “He has this style that’s like a preacher reading out the names on judgment day. He’s not just naming problems. He’s naming people, policies and outcomes,” Booker said. “It lands differently when it comes from the pulpit.” And maybe that’s the point. In an era of institutional drift, moral confrontation remains a kind of clarity. “Moral discourse may not be a dominant mobilizer anymore,” he said. “But that was always the case. The prophets didn’t expect to win. They expected to witness.”View image in fullscreenBarber echoed the sentiment. Bearing moral witness matters even when it doesn’t automatically produce results, because failing to show up at all cedes ground unnecessarily. “A moral fight is one that you have to engage, because not to engage is to risk damage that might not be reversible,” he said. “If a group of politicians were going to crucify voting rights and crucify healthcare, then every crucifixion needs a witness.”Not everyone will be reachable through scripture, though. Whereas nearly half of Americans attended weekly religious services at the height of the civil rights movement, only about 30% of Americans do so now, according to a recent Gallup poll. Barber sees the rising suspicion of moral language, and the growing distance from the church, but he doesn’t see it as an obstacle; rather, he sees an opportunity. “Young people are not leaving the faith because they don’t want justice,” he told me. “They’re leaving because we’ve too often offered them religion without justice, and theology without truth.” So he remains committed to preaching in public, to claiming a tradition that doesn’t just soothe, but disrupts with the intent of building a kind of moral pressure. Barber believes the system has rotted at its core. It’s why he often refers to a sickness in the country’s body, a deterioration of its heart – but he also believes it has the capacity to be reformed, and is drawing on a prophetic tradition to push it towards change. “He’s operating within the system,” Booker told me. “He’s not outside of it burning it down. He’s trying to get the system to live up to its stated values.”Barber’s strategy mirrors that of Martin Luther King Jr a generation before: not to write legislation personally, but to focus enough attention on a moral crisis that the system has to respond. The marches weren’t meant to replace lawmaking, but to expose it – to show where justice had failed, and to make action unavoidable.The campaign’s futureBarber began a labored walk to the Capitol. A woman caught up to him quietly and asked if he had a moment to speak. His eyes were forward, fixed on the entrance. “If you don’t mind,” he said gently, “I’m trying to focus on what I’m doing.” She apologized and nodded, but had to say her piece.She walked beside him and told him that the A was missing from DEI – the A for accessibility. So many movements, she said, leave out people with disabilities. People who walk with a limp. Barber smirked. “Oh, people like me?” he said. The procession stopped and Barber, alongside a small group, descended down the elevator.View image in fullscreenThis is where conviction met cost. At the Capitol rotunda, the group prayed with the purpose of arrest. Suvya Carroll, a disability rights advocate born with cerebral palsy, clutched a Bible. Carroll told Barber she and her friend were there because “people like us always get left out. But we believe this movement sees us.” As Capitol police moved in, she was arrested along with Barber and five others. Barber later reflected on Carroll’s arrest in particular: “That child looked the Capitol police in the eye and said: ‘I’m ready.’ And we all prayed. Right there, in the middle of that dome. And I thought, Lord, if this doesn’t matter, what does?”The arrest was symbolic – the third time Moral Monday activists had been detained since April – but it also surfaced a deeper truth. The witness came from many, but the weight still fell on one. When Barber turned toward the elevator, others followed. And once inside the rotunda, all eyes returned to him. As questions swirl around the future of his organization, a harder one remains: how long can a movement built on moral clarity lean on a single voice? Barber’s voice remains central, but the campaign’s future may depend on how well it distributes that moral authority across a broader base. If the theology is prophetic, the structure has to be plural.Barber’s protest is grounded not in outcome, but in obligation. He’s asked: what will you do with the breath you have left? For Barber, that’s not just a question. It’s a way to keep moving. “This country gets amnesia,” he told me. “We forget. That’s why prophetic work is not about a moment. It’s about building a memory that resists the lie.” Even though he’s become a brand, he’s trying to build a witness. “I don’t want people to follow me, I want them to follow the truth,” he said.“Prayer,” he likes to say, “is never the end of protest. It’s the beginning of a demand.” That day in the rotunda, his prayer echoed through marble. Maybe it reached no one. Maybe it moved someone. But it was heard.That’s the point of prophecy. Not certainty. Witness. More

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    Throwing their bodies on the gears: the Democratic lawmakers showing up to resist Trump

    A flock of Ice agents, some masked, some sporting military-operator fashion for show, smooshed the New York City comptroller, Brad Lander, up against a wall and handcuffed him in the hallway of a federal courthouse in early June, shuffling the mild-mannered politician into an elevator like the Sandman hustling an act off the stage 10 miles north at Harlem’s Apollo Theater.Like at the Apollo, Lander’s arrest was a show. News reporters and cellphone camera-wielding bystanders crowded the hall to watch the burly federal officers rumple a 55-year-old auditor asking for a warrant.“I’m not obstructing. I’m standing here in this hallway asking for a judicial warrant,” Lander said. “You don’t have the authority to arrest US citizens.”“This is an urgent moment for the rule of law in the United States of America and it is important to step up,” Lander told the Guardian after the arrest. “And I think the dividing line for Democrats right now is not between progressives and moderates. It’s between fighters and folders. We have to find nonviolent but insistent ways of standing up for democracy and the rule of law.”The act of showing up is resonating with voters who have seen the limits of social media activism. Be it Senator Cory Booker’s speech in April or the arrest of lawmakers trying to inspect an Ice detention facility, the images of administration opponents physically interposing themselves as a disruption hearken back to an earlier era in American politics, of sit-ins and full jails, where opponents meant to grind the apparatus of government to a halt as a means of resistance.“There’s a time when the operation of the machine becomes so odious, makes you so sick at heart, that you can’t take part,” Mario Savio, a student leader in the free speech movement, a campaign of civil disobedience against restrictive policies on student political activity, said 60 years ago during a campus protest. “You can’t even passively take part. And you’ve got to put your bodies upon the gears and upon the wheels, upon the levers, upon all the apparatus, and you’ve got to make it stop.”That can look like Booker’s 25-hour record-breaking stand at the dais from 31 March through 1 April this year, presenting a litany of protest against the actions of the first 71 days of the Trump administration in the longest speech in Senate history. Technically, it was not a filibuster, unlike the previous record-holder, the South Carolina senator Strom Thurmond’s speech delaying passage of the Civil Rights Act in 1957.As an act of political protest, it required presence. The rules of a Senate floor speech are exacting. No sitting. No breaks. Continuous, corporeal effort. As the spectacle grew, Booker acknowledged that Democratic voters had been demanding more of their leaders.“I confess that I have been imperfect,” Booker said. “I confess that I’ve been inadequate to the moment. I confess that the Democratic party has made terrible mistakes that gave a lane to this demagogue. I confess we all must look in the mirror and say: ‘We will do better.’”Activists had been in the street from the day of Trump’s inauguration. But Booker’s speech was a demarcation point after which Democratic leaders started confronting the right more directly. It also marked them being confronted in return.Hannah Dugan, a Wisconsin judge, allowed a man to leave through the back doors of her courtroom, allegedly in response to the presence of immigration officers waiting to arrest him. FBI agents subsequently arrested Dugan in her Milwaukee courtroom on 25 April, charging her with obstruction.The FBI director, Kash Patel, posted comments about her arrest on X almost immediately, and eventually posted a photograph of her arrest, handcuffed and walking toward a police cruiser, with the comment: “No one is above the law.” Digitally altered photographs of Dugan appearing to be in tears in a mugshot proliferated on social media. Trump himself reposted an image from the Libs of TikTok website of Dugan wearing a Covid-19 mask on the day of her arrest.Three days later, Trump issued an executive order to create “a mechanism to provide legal resources and indemnification”, including “private-sector pro bono assistance”, for cops it describes as “unjustly incur[ring] expenses and liabilities for actions taken during the performance of their official duties to enforce the law”.The order also seeks “enhanced sentences for crimes against law enforcement officers”, and calls for federal prosecution of state or local officials who the administration says obstruct law enforcement.View image in fullscreenTaken together, the order sent a clear signal to federal police agencies to take the gloves off – that accusations of misconduct would be defended against and that placing the bodies of public officials into handcuffs and squad cars was fair game.Three days after that, Trump’s border czar, Tom Homan, suggested more arrests were on the way. “Wait till you see what’s coming,” he said in response to a question about future arrests of officials.But the warnings have not stopped Democrats from showing up at Ice detention centers and other demonstrations.Four more elected or appointed Democratic officials and one Democratic senator’s staffer have been detained, arrested or charged by federal agents since Trump’s executive order. Each of the arrests has become a media spectacle.Ras Baraka, the mayor of Newark, New Jersey, visited Delaney Hall, a privately owned Ice detention facility he accuses of violating safety protocols, on 9 May. He was with three members of Congress at the time, who have the explicit right by law to inspect Ice facilities. Video captured by body-worn cameras shows a tangle of bodies as Ice agents arrest him, with beefy federal officers bending him over in handcuffs as they walk him through an outraged crowd.Amid the scrum is the freshman representative LaMonica McIver in her red coat, who stands out in videos as she walks through the gate. She appears to bump a masked law enforcement officer as she’s caught in the chaotic scene. Her intentions are far from clear, and witness video from other angles contradicts the government’s claim that members of Congress stormed the facility.Ten days later, the acting US attorney, Alina Habba, charged McIver with forcibly impeding and interfering with federal officers, even after dropping similar charges against Baraka. For the administration and its supporters, the high-visibility arrests play out as payback for what they see as the politically motivated prosecution of Trump and of January 6 rioters. The Republican representative Nancy Mace of South Carolina filed a House resolution to expel McIver. Baraka’s arrest and McIver’s charge became fodder for conservative media.But it also galvanized Newark. Protesters filled the streets awaiting Baraka’s release.“History will judge us in this moral moment,” he told the crowd. “These people are wrong. And it’s moments like this that will judge us all – as cowards or, you know, as heroes.”Three weeks later, a staffer for the representative Jerry Nadler – whose name has not been released – allegedly impeded homeland security agents searching for “rioters” at a protest about immigration enforcement abuses. The agents handcuffed and detained her. Video circulated widely on social media and cable television.View image in fullscreenOn 8 June, as protesters flooded downtown Los Angeles intent on gumming up the streets around the Metropolitan detention center, the Democratic representative Jimmy Gomez of California posted a video on Instagram describing how chemical irritants had been deployed around the detention building. “They’re spraying something to try to get us to leave,” he said. “This is just to prevent us from doing our jobs.”Homeland security briefly released guidance last week asking members of Congress to give Ice facilities 72 hours of prior notice before visiting a facility. The demand conflicts with federal law allowing members of Congress immediate access for inspections. The guidance is no longer posted on the DHS website.The Democratic senator Alex Padilla of California attempted to confront the homeland security secretary, Kristi Noem, about protests in Los Angeles on 12 June. Before he could get a word in, when he approached to ask a question, Secret Service and FBI agents dragged Padilla out of the room and handcuffed him. The DHS falsely claimed that Padilla had failed to identify himself, releasing a statement describing Padilla’s inquiry as “disrespectful political theatre”.“The only political theater happening in Los Angeles is Trump using thousands of troops in Los Angeles as political props in response to overwhelmingly peaceful protests,” Padilla said in response.It has only been half a year that Trump has been president, but Democrats and other critics are finding that it’s the balance of civil rights tactics with 2025 TikTok-era virality that is cutting through the noise. Paired with some of the biggest protests in American history, it seems they are only getting started.“Authoritarians are looking to stoke fear and conflict and send a signal [that] if they are going to do this to elected officials – if they’re going to do it to white male US citizens with passports or elected officials, I think their goal is to make everyone afraid,” Lander said.“There is a pattern here, you know, from Senator Padilla to Ras Baraka to me, and an on-the-record statement from the attorney general about … trying to quote-unquote ‘liberate’ cities from their elected officials,” he added. “So, I take them at their word.” More

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    How do we resist and rise? We have to believe the impossible is possible | V (Formerly Eve Ensler)

    In this authoritarian and suffocating climate where being an American feels like a curse, where just breathing here feels like complicity with genocide, psychotic imperialism, misogyny and endless racism, it is hard to move, let alone imagine what one can do to transform this horror to good.Every day people are kidnapped by masked men in unmarked cars, taken to hidden sites and left in deplorable conditions; starving people in Gaza are slaughtered as they clamor for a bag of flour; public officials and leaders humiliated and murdered; the T erased from LGBT; brain-dead women forced to give birth; the glib language of hate and cruelty and easy thoughtless threats of world war, assassination, and dehumanization circling like invisible poison. What feels most perilous is the steady evaporation of the boundaries of what seemed impossible only a few weeks ago. Morality, compassion, care – slashed and burned.And yet I think of Beckett, “I can’t go on. I’ll go on”, “The world is essentially over. I will fight for another day”, “I have lost my faith in humans. I commit to love them more.”To live as Jung said – with two existing opposite thoughts at the same time. Survival right now depends on our ability to swim in this duality. To not linger in the pain, but to allow ourselves to be moved by it. To not whitewash reality, but also not to take up lodging in the house of despair. This is the dance of our times.We must become agile and flexible. To feel responsible but not so guilty we are immobilized. To feel rage but to learn how to direct it into action and passion and purpose. To lift ourselves to a more existential absurdist place where the fascists cannot touch us. Not disassociation or numbness, but finding the grace, energy and humor that come when we commit ourselves more deeply to one another.Before “No Kings” Day there was a part of me that frankly was tired of marching, wondering if these demonstrations really add up to anything. But then on 14 June, with an estimated 4 million to 6 million people in the streets of America, I realized something profound. Marches and demonstrations are not merely acts of resistance and refusal, but they are community events in which we meet and strengthen our resolve and bonds with our own tribe of like-minded people.They are public moments to show the rest of the world that we are the majority and we do not want and will not accept a king, or genocide in Gaza or precious immigrants being dragged off and separated from their families. They are places to let off steam and make great art and music and network and ultimately they are what we have, the expression of our collective sorrow and outrage, thereby saving our own souls.So how do we resist and rise? We have to believe the impossible is possible.I think of my sisters at the City of Joy in the Democratic Republic of the Congo who give me inspiration and direction daily. The center is literally in the middle of a war zone. When the M23 militias invaded Bukavu in February, they made a radical decision to keep the center open despite the madness outside – gunfire, bombs and sometimes dead bodies on the road. They refused to stop building the world they dreamed. Instead, they developed strategies – coming to work on scooters, changing cars to avoid being noticed, keeping their hearts tuned to the work of healing survivors. It is now June and the 27th class of City of Joy is about to graduate and a new class is on the way.I think of one of my great inspirations, the former congresswoman Cori Bush who saw that in St Louis, after the recent tornado no local or national Fema had come or were coming. The majority of people had lost their homes or had huge holes in them. So she joined with local groups to provide tarps and food, cleaning products and formula. They formed hubs of care. They went to the senior homes who had lost electricity so there was no refrigeration for food or medicine and gave them both.She told me, “It’s my community. I believe that we take care of us. I learned through the Ferguson uprising that we can’t wait on politicians or leaders. We have to dive in and get to work. We have to talk to one another and know our communities. We need to organize in our living rooms, local businesses backyards – find out who amongst us are doctors, nurses, chefs, teachers. Knowing your community and what skills they can offer.” This is what we need to understand now more than ever.It is so clear something essential is dying. The illusion and seduction of the American dream is over. Neoliberalism is dead. There are huge cracks, openings in the old structures and narratives. These are opportunities to plant the seeds for the new world as we protect those suffering now.What the fascists want more than anything is our fear, exhaustion and despair. Or they want us angry, reactive, cruel and violent like them. In Cherien Dabis’s staggeringly brilliant saga about a family in Palestine, All That’s Left of You, (one of the best films I have ever seen), a married couple comes to a moral crisis and they turn to an iman for advice. This wise and very gentle iman tells them: “Your humanity is also your resistance. Don’t underestimate its power. It’s the only thing they can’t take away from you.” Every action matters now. Every effort small or large counts. And moving – movement is the essential key to dispelling despair. How we care now, how we love, how we come together, how we build and protect each other is in itself the building of the new world.

    V (formerly Eve Ensler) is a playwright and activist and the founder of V-Day, a global movement to end violence against women and girls More

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    Los Angeles is not a hellscape – no matter how much Trump wishes for it | Dave Schilling

    The Los Angeles Dodgers lost on Thursday, 5-3, to the San Diego Padres. A mostly unremarkable game livened up by a hit batsman that led to a near-brawl between the two teams. But the real action took place well before the first pitch. Federal agents were seen attempting to enter Dodger Stadium’s parking lot earlier in the day, according to several reports. When asked, the agents declared they were with the Department of Homeland Security (DHS). After the Dodgers said they had turned Immigration and Customs Enforcement agents away, Ice denied being at the stadium at all, while DHS said Customs and Border Protection vehicles “were in the stadium parking lot very briefly, unrelated to any operation or enforcement”. Yes, but what about, you know, the videos? The eyewitness accounts? All that evidence? Never mind that, I suppose.We’ve become quite immune to the confused realities of this administration. They could say the sky is purple, horses can carry on cocktail party conversation à la Mr Ed, and Justin Bieber is a recent Nobel laureate in physics and we’d respond: “Well, of course, carry on. Congrats to Justin, I suppose.” They’ve been doing it since Donald Trump’s first term, but really ratcheted up the bullshit during the immigration protests in Los Angeles. The administration’s party line is that Los Angeles was tipping into full-on, RoboCop-style anarchy and the only solution to that problem was a deployment of the national guard and the marines, against the wishes of the Los Angeles mayor, Karen Bass, and California’s governor, Gavin Newsom. This, despite the protests occurring within about 1 sq mile of a city that is, by my last count, absolutely enormous. Or, for those who don’t live here, 500 sq miles (1,300 sq km). To be exact.The protests have largely wrapped up, even as Ice has become more brazen in its activities – snatching people outside a Home Depot in Hollywood and dropping by our baseball stadium for unknown reasons. Despite the lack of conflagration, a federal appeals court recently affirmed Trump’s right to deploy the guard for this particular purpose, though going to the trouble of reminding the administration that such actions are not above judicial review. Of course, for the immigrant denizens of LA, this city does feel like a war zone, with the constant fear, anxiety and stress that comes with all of that. Public transit ridership is down significantly, businesses have to close to prevent their employees from being captured and stories of Ice raids trickle through communities like drips of poison. That’s our shared reality, but it’s not the one outsiders seem to care about. They’re more interested in the Waymos, I suppose.Despite the ongoing mischaracterization of the situation on the ground, Trump seems unable to manage to get the widespread clashes and chaos he so clearly desires. The military deployment in LA wasn’t much more remarkable than his birthday-party-cum-bring-your-army-to-work-day that nearly put Marco Rubio to sleep. Trump might have been asleep too, but his eyes have narrowed into such baggy slits that one can no longer make an accurate judgment. His eyelids now resemble two fluffy hamburger buns, with nothing but a layer of mayonnaise in between.Perhaps the president’s burger eyes are partially to blame for his lack of awareness of what is actually happening in Los Angeles. Our schools are in summer break, leaving the roads slightly less congested. A recent heatwave has me canoodling with my air conditioner, like two drunk celebrities in the back of the Met Gala dining room. Juneteenth celebrations in my area carried on as usual. Downtown, the site of the protest actions, is back to being a great place to urinate in an alley without being pelted by rubber bullets. I still can’t get my agent to call me back about that script. All is well here. And yet, the pretense of simmering violence is continuing to be used to justify a wholly unnecessary deployment of the armed forces.Speaking of armed forces, the Los Angeles police department totals nearly 9,000 officers, with tanks, riot gear and heavy weaponry. The LAPD is, in many ways, a little mini-army to patrol those aforementioned 500 sq miles of enormousness. When Bass said the LAPD could handle it, she meant it. This is another way in which perception taints the reality on the ground. LA has taken the place of countless other conservative boogeymen – San Francisco, Portland, New York City – as the pre-eminent scourge of so-called liberal lawlessness. Of course, LA, like those other cities, spends money on its police force like I do on The RealReal after one too many martinis. The most recent LAPD budget topped $2bn, which, while less than the purchase price of the Los Angeles Lakers basketball team, is still quite a lot. It’s a billion dollars more than is spent on homelessness programs by the entire state. A city politician can hardly get elected without at least some support from the police unions, like our new district attorney, Nathan Hochman, who trounced the incumbent by running on a law-and-order platform.But the American conservative media apparatus can and routinely does tell a different story of Los Angeles. That it’s a liberal hellscape where God has been given his two-weeks’ notice and everyone gives each other anal beads for Christmas. If only that were true. Maybe this would be a more exciting place to live. In reality, AKA that thing that happens when you go outside, this can be a terribly boring place to live, especially when your agent doesn’t call you back. To be honest, I quite like how boring it is. It’s a lot easier to complain about mundane things, like every good restaurant closing on Mondays. Can we spread that out? Maybe some of you close on Sundays, so I don’t have to subject myself to Sweetgreen when I’m too lazy to cook. Just try it out. I could complain about how the DMV kiosk that’s supposed to make it faster to renew your car registration is actually becoming just as long of a line as the normal window because the payment system is constantly going down. Or that the San Diego Padres are the dirtiest team in baseball and their entire franchise should be sold to the Saudi royal family for scrap and moved to Riyadh. You know, normal things to complain about. The only time it’s not boring to live in Los Angeles is when someone (you know who) decides to send the marines in to walk around in a circle for two months. If the federal government could promise to let Los Angeles be boring again, I’ll promise to stop handing out anal beads during the holidays. A deal’s a deal.

    Dave Schilling is a Los Angeles-based writer and humorist More

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    I study the history of Nazi resistance. Here’s what the US left can learn from it | Luke Berryman

    Around the end of 2022, I had an idea for a book about the history of resistance to Nazism. I wanted to show that Nazism has faced nonconformity, refusal and protest ever since it was born in 1920. I also wanted to explore beyond a handful of famous heroes and cast a spotlight on people who changed history without entering popular memory. When I began my research, Donald Trump had just announced his candidacy for the Republican ticket in 2024. When I gave the manuscript to the publisher a little over two years later, he was president-elect.His comeback, the darker version of Maga that came with him, and the Democratic party’s collapse gave fresh relevance to the stories of resistance to far-right extremism that I was finding. Even as I was piecing them together, they began to intrude on the present. It was a haunting transformation – and it helped me to understand why the resistance to Trump has been flawed from the moment he stepped on to the political stage.We’ve never been shy about broadcasting our opinions. We’ve worn pussy hats, put up lawn signs, and trolled Trump and his supporters, both online and off. But while such acts may get attention, their capacity to create change is less certain.This can even be true for mass protests. Americans have sometimes underestimated the effectiveness of protest – recent demonstrations in Los Angeles and across the country are an important part of resistance. In the era of social media and the 24-hour news cycle, though, protests can risk becoming a spectacle. And when the government is given a chance to portray them as violent, their effectiveness is extinguished – because they end up benefiting the forces they mean to challenge. The resisters that I researched, by contrast, were laser-focused on creating change. Whether they were satirists drawing anti-Nazi cartoons in 1920s Germany or former neo-Nazis becoming peace advocates in the 21st-century US, they sought to improve life for themselves and others in the here and now, in any way that they could, no matter how small.The German activist Emmi Bonhoeffer is a powerful example. She built a support group for the Holocaust survivors who testified in the 1960s Frankfurt Auschwitz trials, where Nazis were tried for their roles at the death camp. In doing so, Bonhoeffer resisted the Nazis’ desire for both their crimes and their victims to be forgotten. Her group – most of them homemakers – ultimately helped nearly 200 people as they took the stand. They inspired similar groups to form around other war crimes trials in Germany, too. But they didn’t advertise. They didn’t have a slogan or an outfit or a flag. They didn’t even bother to give their group a name. Their first and only concern was to clear a path toward justice for at least some of the Nazis’ victims. For Bonhoeffer, resistance wasn’t about getting attention. It was about creating change.What’s more, the resistance to Trump has always been stained by a judgmental streak. Whether we’re denouncing them as a “basket of deplorables” or mocking them on social media, we invariably devote too much energy to belittling his supporters. This has convinced us of our own moral rectitude. In turn, this has made us complacent, and complacency only deepens our inaction.The resisters that I learned about pulled no punches when it came to judging Adolf Hitler and his inner circle. But they spent more time judging themselves than his supporters. Consider the German émigré Sebastian Haffner. In the late 1930s, he wrote an extraordinary autobiographical book about his life as a so-called “Aryan” in Hitler’s Germany. It was only published in 2000, posthumously, after his son discovered it hidden in a desk drawer. For Haffner, publication didn’t really matter. The book was, first and foremost, an imaginative space in which he subjected his own behavior and thinking and privilege to relentless scrutiny. Through this process of self-scrutiny, he grew into one of the Nazis’ most effective critics in exile.The judgmental streak has also given some of our attempts to resist Trump a holier-than-thou quality that diminishes our capacity for empathy. We’re too quick to believe that 77 million Americans voted for Trump out of stupidity, not desperation or disenfranchisement. By contrast, I was always struck by the sense of shared humanity among the resisters that I discovered – like the lower-level British intelligence officials who persuaded members of the German public to help them smoke out Nazi war criminals after 1945; or Leon Bass, the Black American soldier who drew on his own experiences of segregation to deepen his understanding of the suffering of the Jewish people he liberated from Buchenwald.skip past newsletter promotionafter newsletter promotionLike every far-right leader in history, Donald Trump has intoxicated his supporters with nostalgia for a past that never existed in order to push a corrupt and hateful agenda of his own. Eventually, many will realize that he’s lied to them. Perhaps they’ll lose their jobs because of his economic policies, or see law-abiding friends and family deported because of his immigration policies. Perhaps their children will suffer from measles because of his health policies. Whatever the case, when their moment of realization comes, we must be ready to embrace them, and to weep with them for what they’ve lost. If there’s one thing that I learned while writing my book, it’s that effective resistance to the far right is never just about defeating the enemy. It’s about creating a better future for everyone.What’s giving me hope nowTeachers and librarians are championing the written word as a tool of resistance. Colleagues in the field of Holocaust education are collaborating on free and innovative events to inform the public about the collapse of democracy in early 20th-century Europe – and to establish what we can learn from it today. And, as I argue in my book, the arts can connect us to our own humanity, and to the humanity in others. Supporting your local art museum, attending a concert or joining a book club should all be cause for hope – because in a divided, partisan society, such acts constitute resistance.

    Luke Berryman, PhD, is an educator and author of the forthcoming book Resisting Nazism, to be published by Bloomsbury in 2026 More

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    Were the No Kings protests the largest single-day demonstration in American history?

    The scale of last weekend’s “No Kings” protests is now becoming clearer, with one estimate suggesting that Saturday was among the biggest ever single-day protests in US history.Working out exactly where the protest ranks compared with similar recent events has been a project of G Elliott Morris, a data journalist who runs the Substack Strength in Numbers, calculated turnout between 4 million and 6 million, which would be 1.2-1.8% of the US population. This could exceed the previous record in recent history, when between 3.3 million and 5.6 million people showed up at the 2017 Women’s March to rally against Trump’s misogynistic rhetoric.View image in fullscreenMorris estimated the No Kings Day protest turnout in two steps. First, his team gathered data at events for as many locations as possible, defaulting to tallies published in local newspapers. Where that wasn’t available, they relied on estimates from organizers and attenders themselves.To come up with a rough approximation of nationwide numbers, he then estimated the attendance in each unreported protest would be equal to the median of the attendance in places where data did exist. “That’s a tough approximation, but at least an empirical one,” Morris wrote in an email. “We use the median instead of the average to control for outliers, [such as the fact that] big cities pull the average up, but most events are not huge urban protests.”Morris stressed that the Strength in Numbers tally remains unofficial, and he hopes that researchers will “build” on his data when they conduct more studies. But his estimation is similar to that made by Ezra Levin, the co-founder of Indivisible, the progressive non-profit that organized the event. He estimated that 5 million people across the globe took to the streets.Not everyone is ready to call it the biggest protest ever. Jeremy Pressman of the Crowd Counting Consortium, a joint Harvard University/University of Connecticut project that estimates political crowds, told USA Today it would take “some time” to get an official tally.Meanwhile Steven Cheung, Trump’s director of communications, unsurprisingly called the protests “a complete and utter failure with minuscule attendance” on X. (No Kings took place on Donald Trump’s birthday, which coincided with a parade the president threw in celebration of the US army’s 250th anniversary.)Omar Wasow, an assistant professor in UC Berkeley’s department of political science, told the Guardian that the demonstration was “without question, among the largest single-day protests in history”.Wasow compared protest movements to standing ovations given at a theater. “We see a cascade effect: if one person stands after the curtain drops, then more follow,” he said. “If 1.8% of the US adult population showed up to protest on Saturday, those are the people who stood up to clap first. It sends a signal to all these other people that you can stand up, too.”The 1963 March on Washington, where Dr Martin Luther King Jr made his famous “I have a dream” speech was at the time one of the largest protests in history, with up to a half a million people in attendance. It was dwarfed in size by the first Earth Day protests in 1970, in which 20 million people helped spark the creation of the Environmental Protection Agency. “At the time this was about 10% of the US population, possibly the largest we will ever realistically see – unless the political environment deteriorates significantly, prompting more backlash,” Morris said.View image in fullscreenIn 1986 at the Hands Across America fundraiser, an estimated 5 million Americans formed a human chain to raise money to fight hunger and homelessness (each person was asked to donate $10, though many participants didn’t end up paying and the politics of the Coca-Cola-sponsored event were murky). More than a million people took to the streets in 2006 for a boycott called “A Day Without Immigrants” in protest of stricter immigration laws. Polls taken during the summer of 2020 found that between 15 and 26 million Americans protested against the murder of George Floyd during the month of June (though day-by-day numbers were smaller).Gloria J Browne-Marshall, a professor at John Jay College of Criminal Justice and author of A Protest History of the United States, said that it was difficult to compare crowd sizes for various protests, especially ones that take place over the course of several days and span various locations. “There are different processes that have been used over the years, from eyeballing things to actually counting the number of people per square mile,” she said.In the days following No Kings, an idea put forth by the political scientists Erica Chenoweth and Maria Stephan called the 3.5% rule spurred social media discussion. Chenoweth, a Harvard professor and Stephan, a political scientist who covers nonviolent movements, studied 323 revolutionary campaigns around the world that took place from 1900 to 2006. They found that all nonviolent movements that had the support of at least 3.5% of a population always succeeded in triggering change. No Kings, with its massive turnout, could be seen as a turning point.There are caveats to this rule, which was published in the team’s 2011 book Why Civil Resistance Works. “The 3.5% rule is descriptive, not prescriptive – and has been revised significantly since being originally published to allow for exceptions,” Morris wrote. “Chenoweth now is clear that hitting 3.5% does not guarantee success, especially in political regimes where change is harder, and that movements can accomplish their goals with much smaller mobilization, through things like media coverage and alliances with elites.”Organizers and attenders of No Kings feel invigorated enough to continue the demonstrations, with another round of coordinated protests to fall on 17 July, the fifth anniversary of the death of John Lewis, the congressman and civil rights leader.But they admit there are limits to these events. “We’re not going to win if a lot of people show up at a protest one day,” Levin said. “We need people actually taking democracy seriously, and that’s not going to be done through a top-down action. It has to be done from the bottom-up. When pro-democracy movements succeed, it’s because of a broad-based, ideological, diverse, geographically-dispersed, grassroots organizing – not just mobilizing.” More

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    Were the No Kings protests the largest single-day demonstration in American history?

    The scale of last weekend’s “No Kings” protests is now becoming clearer, with one estimate suggesting that Saturday was among the biggest ever single-day protests in US history.Working out exactly where the protest ranks compared with similar recent events has been a project of G Elliott Morris, a data journalist who runs the Substack Strength in Numbers, calculated turnout between 4 million and 6 million, which would be 1.2-1.8% of the US population. This could exceed the previous record in recent history, when between 3.3 million and 5.6 million people showed up at the 2017 Women’s March to rally against Trump’s misogynistic rhetoric.View image in fullscreenMorris estimated the No Kings Day protest turnout in two steps. First, his team gathered data at events for as many locations as possible, defaulting to tallies published in local newspapers. Where that wasn’t available, they relied on estimates from organizers and attenders themselves.To come up with a rough approximation of nationwide numbers, he then estimated the attendance in each unreported protest would be equal to the median of the attendance in places where data did exist. “That’s a tough approximation, but at least an empirical one,” Morris wrote in an email. “We use the median instead of the average to control for outliers, [such as the fact that] big cities pull the average up, but most events are not huge urban protests.”Morris stressed that the Strength in Numbers tally remains unofficial, and he hopes that researchers will “build” on his data when they conduct more studies. But his estimation is similar to that made by Ezra Levin, the co-founder of Indivisible, the progressive non-profit that organized the event. He estimated that 5 million people across the globe took to the streets.Not everyone is ready to call it the biggest protest ever. Jeremy Pressman of the Crowd Counting Consortium, a joint Harvard University/University of Connecticut project that estimates political crowds, told USA Today it would take “some time” to get an official tally.Meanwhile Steven Cheung, Trump’s director of communications, unsurprisingly called the protests “a complete and utter failure with minuscule attendance” on X. (No Kings took place on Donald Trump’s birthday, which coincided with a parade the president threw in celebration of the US army’s 250th anniversary.)Omar Wasow, an assistant professor in UC Berkeley’s department of political science, told the Guardian that the demonstration was “without question, among the largest single-day protests in history”.Wasow compared protest movements to standing ovations given at a theater. “We see a cascade effect: if one person stands after the curtain drops, then more follow,” he said. “If 1.8% of the US adult population showed up to protest on Saturday, those are the people who stood up to clap first. It sends a signal to all these other people that you can stand up, too.”The 1963 March on Washington, where Dr Martin Luther King Jr made his famous “I have a dream” speech was at the time one of the largest protests in history, with up to a half a million people in attendance. It was dwarfed in size by the first Earth Day protests in 1970, in which 20 million people helped spark the creation of the Environmental Protection Agency. “At the time this was about 10% of the US population, possibly the largest we will ever realistically see – unless the political environment deteriorates significantly, prompting more backlash,” Morris said.View image in fullscreenIn 1986 at the Hands Across America fundraiser, an estimated 5 million Americans formed a human chain to raise money to fight hunger and homelessness (each person was asked to donate $10, though many participants didn’t end up paying and the politics of the Coca-Cola-sponsored event were murky). More than a million people took to the streets in 2006 for a boycott called “A Day Without Immigrants” in protest of stricter immigration laws. Polls taken during the summer of 2020 found that between 15 and 26 million Americans protested against the murder of George Floyd during the month of June (though day-by-day numbers were smaller).Gloria J Browne-Marshall, a professor at John Jay College of Criminal Justice and author of A Protest History of the United States, said that it was difficult to compare crowd sizes for various protests, especially ones that take place over the course of several days and span various locations. “There are different processes that have been used over the years, from eyeballing things to actually counting the number of people per square mile,” she said.In the days following No Kings, an idea put forth by the political scientists Erica Chenoweth and Maria Stephan called the 3.5% rule spurred social media discussion. Chenoweth, a Harvard professor and Stephan, a political scientist who covers nonviolent movements, studied 323 revolutionary campaigns around the world that took place from 1900 to 2006. They found that all nonviolent movements that had the support of at least 3.5% of a population always succeeded in triggering change. No Kings, with its massive turnout, could be seen as a turning point.There are caveats to this rule, which was published in the team’s 2011 book Why Civil Resistance Works. “The 3.5% rule is descriptive, not prescriptive – and has been revised significantly since being originally published to allow for exceptions,” Morris wrote. “Chenoweth now is clear that hitting 3.5% does not guarantee success, especially in political regimes where change is harder, and that movements can accomplish their goals with much smaller mobilization, through things like media coverage and alliances with elites.”Organizers and attenders of No Kings feel invigorated enough to continue the demonstrations, with another round of coordinated protests to fall on 17 July, the fifth anniversary of the death of John Lewis, the congressman and civil rights leader.But they admit there are limits to these events. “We’re not going to win if a lot of people show up at a protest one day,” Levin said. “We need people actually taking democracy seriously, and that’s not going to be done through a top-down action. It has to be done from the bottom-up. When pro-democracy movements succeed, it’s because of a broad-based, ideological, diverse, geographically-dispersed, grassroots organizing – not just mobilizing.” More