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    ‘Keep an Eye on This Guy’: Inside Eric Adams’s Complicated Police Career

    Mr. Adams’s police credentials have helped him rise to the top of this year’s mayoral field. But his relationship with the department is complex.As Eric Adams lined up for graduation at the New York City Police Academy in 1984, he congratulated the cadet who had beaten him out for valedictorian, only to learn that the other recruit’s average was a point lower than his own. Mr. Adams complained to his commander about the slight.“Welcome to the Police Department,” Mr. Adams recalled the senior officer telling him. “Don’t make waves.”“Man, little do you know,” Mr. Adams remembered thinking. “I’m going to make oceans.”Over the course of the two-decade Police Department career that followed, Mr. Adams troubled the water often. He was a fierce advocate for Black officers, infuriating his superiors with news conferences and public demands. As he rose through the ranks to captain, he spoke out against police brutality, and, later, the department’s stop-and-frisk tactics.His uncommon willingness to criticize the police openly may have stalled his ascent. But many who knew him then said Mr. Adams had already set his sights on a grander goal anyway: public office.Mr. Adams’s outspokenness inspired admiration among many of the Black officers he championed. But his penchant for self-promotion and his blunt-force ambition — he ran for Congress at 33, only a decade into his police career — rankled others in law enforcement, who thought he was using the Police Department as a steppingstone.Today, Mr. Adams, now 60 and the borough president of Brooklyn, is the Democratic front-runner in the New York City mayor’s race, mounting a campaign that leans hard on his time as an officer. But interviews with friends, mentors, former colleagues and political rivals show that his relationship to the police has always been complicated.A year after protests against police brutality and racism shook the city, Mr. Adams has sought to appeal to voters as a reformer who spent 22 years trying to fix what he says was a broken department before retiring to run for State Senate in 2006. But during his bid for mayor he has also positioned himself as the candidate whose law enforcement experience makes him the best choice for ensuring the safety of a fearful electorate as violent crime rises in the city.Mr. Adams’s attempt to manage that precarious balance has drawn attacks from rivals. He has been criticized from the left over his qualified support of the stop-and-frisk strategy, which he fought as an officer but calls a useful tool that previous mayoral administrations abused. And he has struggled to explain how the one-time internal critic of the department is now running as the tough-on-crime ex-cop.“I don’t hate police departments — I hate abusive policing, and that’s what people mix up,” Mr. Adams said in an interview with The New York Times. “When you love something, you’re going to critique it and make it what it ought to be, and not just go along and allow it to continue to be disruptive.”But the apparent tension between Mr. Adams’s past and present public lives can be difficult to reconcile. He has spoken of wearing a bulletproof vest, defended carrying a gun and argued against the movement to defund the police. Yet for most of his life he has harbored deep ambivalence about policing, and his time in the department was more notable for high-profile, often provocative advocacy than it was for making arrests or patrolling a beat.His broadsides sometimes overreached, his critics said, while some of his actions and associations landed him under departmental investigation. Wilbur Chapman, who is also Black and was the Police Department’s chief of patrol during Mr. Adams’s time on the force, said Mr. Adams’s critiques lacked substance and impact.“There was nothing credible that came out of them,” Mr. Chapman said. “Eric had used the Police Department for political gain. He wasn’t interested in improving the Police Department.”A Marked ManMr. Adams as a police lieutenant at age 32. He was outspoken from his earliest days in the department.Ruby Washington/The New York TimesThe seed of Mr. Adams’s law enforcement career took root when he was 16. Randolph Evans, a Black teenager, had been shot and killed by the police in Brooklyn’s East New York section on Thanksgiving Day in 1976. The officer responsible was found not guilty by reason of insanity.A spate of police killings of Black youth in New York spawned an activist movement led by the Rev. Herbert Daughtry, who founded the National Black United Front. Mr. Adams, who had his own share of run-ins with the police while growing up in Brooklyn and Queens, became one of the movement’s young stewards.As a teenager, he said, he realized that the police viewed him and other young Black males as threats to public order. According to a story he has often told, Mr. Adams and his brother were beaten in the 103rd Precinct station house in Queens when he was just 15.Amid the police killings, Mr. Daughtry urged a group that included Mr. Adams to join the Police Department. Mr. Daughtry, in an interview, said that pushing Black men to enlist in what was effectively a hostile army was anathema to some. But he envisioned a two-pronged approach.“Some of us needed to work outside of the system, and some inside the system,” Mr. Daughtry said. “To model what policemen should be about and to find out what’s going on. Why were we having all these killings?”For Mr. Adams, becoming a policeman was an act of subversion. Still angry over the beating, he saw “an opportunity to go in and just aggravate people,” he told Liz H. Strong, an oral historian at Columbia University, in a 2015 interview for a collection of reminiscences of retired members of the Guardians Association, a fraternal organization of Black police officers.He wasted no time. In October 1984, a police sergeant fatally shot Eleanor Bumpurs, a disabled, mentally ill Black woman, in the chest. When a chief tried to explain why the shooting was justified, Mr. Adams, who was still in the academy, disagreed forcefully, saying a white woman would not have been killed that way. Higher-ups took note of his attitude.“There was a signal that went out: ‘Keep an eye on this guy,’” said David C. Banks, a friend of Mr. Adams’s whose father and brother were influential figures in the Police Department. “He did it before he was officially on the job, so he was already a marked man.”‘A Driven, Motivated Cat’Mr. Adams, right, was a fixture at press events as a leader of 100 Blacks in Law Enforcement Who Care. James Estrin/The New York TimesMr. Adams began as a transit police officer, patrolling the subway or in a radio car, later using his associate degree in data processing to work on the department’s computer programs that tracked crime. In 1995, he became a member of the Police Department after the transit police was absorbed by the bigger agency.On the force, he was not known as a dynamic, run-and-gun street cop.“I wouldn’t say Eric was an aggressive cop, but he was competent,” said David Tarquini, who worked in the same command.Randolph Blenman, who patrolled with Mr. Adams when both were transit officers, called him “a thinking man’s officer,” whether they were arresting someone or helping them. “He always did his best to get his point across without losing his composure,” Mr. Blenman said.Mr. Adams moved up the ranks by taking tests, rising first to sergeant, then to lieutenant, and eventually to captain. But any further promotions would have been discretionary, and perhaps unavailable to Mr. Adams because of his outspokenness.Instead, Mr. Adams quickly became well-known for his activism. He signed up with the Guardians upon joining the force, and ultimately became its leader.Another officer, Caudieu Cook, recalled Mr. Adams working out with him and other young Black officers at a Brooklyn gym in the late 1980s and early 1990s. Mr. Cook said he was focused on getting in shape, while Mr. Adams spoke of his vision for the department and the city. His story of being beaten by the police as a child resonated with the others. Unlike him, they feared retaliation if they spoke out.“You have to be very careful when you speak out against injustices because you could get ostracized,” Mr. Cook said. Mr. Adams, he said, “was just a driven, motivated cat.”Mr. Adams focused on discrimination in policing, and within the department itself. He warned in the 1990s that rising arrests of teenagers for low-level offenses would backfire in the long run, and he said Black and Hispanic New Yorkers would bear the brunt of ticket quotas.He also spoke out often against the racism that Black officers encountered, including the fear many of them felt of being mistaken for criminals when not in uniform.A decade after entering the department, Mr. Adams made his first attempt to leave it, waging a congressional primary race against Representative Major Owens, a Democrat, in 1994. His campaign did not gain traction, and he remained an officer..css-1xzcza9{list-style-type:disc;padding-inline-start:1em;}.css-3btd0c{font-family:nyt-franklin,helvetica,arial,sans-serif;font-size:1rem;line-height:1.375rem;color:#333;margin-bottom:0.78125rem;}@media (min-width:740px){.css-3btd0c{font-size:1.0625rem;line-height:1.5rem;margin-bottom:0.9375rem;}}.css-3btd0c strong{font-weight:600;}.css-3btd0c em{font-style:italic;}.css-w739ur{margin:0 auto 5px;font-family:nyt-franklin,helvetica,arial,sans-serif;font-weight:700;font-size:1.125rem;line-height:1.3125rem;color:#121212;}#NYT_BELOW_MAIN_CONTENT_REGION .css-w739ur{font-family:nyt-cheltenham,georgia,’times new roman’,times,serif;font-weight:700;font-size:1.375rem;line-height:1.625rem;}@media (min-width:740px){#NYT_BELOW_MAIN_CONTENT_REGION .css-w739ur{font-size:1.6875rem;line-height:1.875rem;}}@media (min-width:740px){.css-w739ur{font-size:1.25rem;line-height:1.4375rem;}}.css-9s9ecg{margin-bottom:15px;}.css-uf1ume{display:-webkit-box;display:-webkit-flex;display:-ms-flexbox;display:flex;-webkit-box-pack:justify;-webkit-justify-content:space-between;-ms-flex-pack:justify;justify-content:space-between;}.css-wxi1cx{display:-webkit-box;display:-webkit-flex;display:-ms-flexbox;display:flex;-webkit-flex-direction:column;-ms-flex-direction:column;flex-direction:column;-webkit-align-self:flex-end;-ms-flex-item-align:end;align-self:flex-end;}.css-12vbvwq{background-color:white;border:1px solid #e2e2e2;width:calc(100% – 40px);max-width:600px;margin:1.5rem auto 1.9rem;padding:15px;box-sizing:border-box;}@media (min-width:740px){.css-12vbvwq{padding:20px;width:100%;}}.css-12vbvwq:focus{outline:1px solid #e2e2e2;}#NYT_BELOW_MAIN_CONTENT_REGION .css-12vbvwq{border:none;padding:10px 0 0;border-top:2px solid #121212;}.css-12vbvwq[data-truncated] .css-rdoyk0{-webkit-transform:rotate(0deg);-ms-transform:rotate(0deg);transform:rotate(0deg);}.css-12vbvwq[data-truncated] .css-eb027h{max-height:300px;overflow:hidden;-webkit-transition:none;transition:none;}.css-12vbvwq[data-truncated] .css-5gimkt:after{content:’See more’;}.css-12vbvwq[data-truncated] .css-6mllg9{opacity:1;}.css-qjk116{margin:0 auto;overflow:hidden;}.css-qjk116 strong{font-weight:700;}.css-qjk116 em{font-style:italic;}.css-qjk116 a{color:#326891;-webkit-text-decoration:underline;text-decoration:underline;text-underline-offset:1px;-webkit-text-decoration-thickness:1px;text-decoration-thickness:1px;-webkit-text-decoration-color:#326891;text-decoration-color:#326891;}.css-qjk116 a:visited{color:#326891;-webkit-text-decoration-color:#326891;text-decoration-color:#326891;}.css-qjk116 a:hover{-webkit-text-decoration:none;text-decoration:none;}In 1995, Mr. Adams and others formed 100 Blacks in Law Enforcement Who Care. They felt that without the departmental recognition that the Guardians had, they could better pursue their own agenda: advocating internally for racial justice while providing community grants and advice to the public.Four years later, officers from the department’s Street Crimes Unit killed a man named Amadou Diallo in a hail of bullets in the Bronx. Mr. Adams began to highlight the unit’s excessive use of stop-and-frisk, a crime-control tactic that a federal judge would find had devolved into racial profiling.Mr. Adams conceived of a plan to use Yvette Walton, a Black officer who had served in the unit, to make the case. Soon after the shooting, Mr. Adams appeared at a news conference with Ms. Walton, who was disguised because she was not allowed to speak publicly about police issues.He also appeared with Ms. Walton, again in disguise, at a City Council hearing. Within an hour of the hearing, Ms. Walton was identified and fired, supposedly for abusing the department’s sick leave policies.‘Just fighting’In 1999, Mr. Adams, second from right, appeared with a disguised officer from the Street Crimes Unit, helping to shed a light on the department’s racially biased stop-and-frisk tactics. Librado Romero/The New York TimesThe disguising of Ms. Walton was only one of Mr. Adams’s media-enticing innovations. Another was a report card that graded the department on issues of racial equality.Paul Browne, the spokesman for Ray Kelly, the police commissioner at the time, said Mr. Adams approached him around 2002 to let him know that Mr. Kelly’s administration could get high marks if it promoted candidates that Mr. Adams recommended.“If we played ball with his requests, the report cards would reflect it,” Mr. Browne said. But the department’s leaders remained overwhelmingly white, and the report card grades were poor.The perception among higher-ups that Mr. Adams’s tactics were more self-serving than authentic began early on. Mr. Chapman, the former chief of patrol, said that he asked Mr. Adams in 1993 whether the Guardians would participate in a minority recruitment drive. Mr. Chapman said Mr. Adams declined.“It’s easy to be angry,” Mr. Chapman said. “But anger doesn’t translate into constructive change, and that’s what I was looking for.”Mr. Adams said in the interview with The Times that the criticisms from Mr. Browne and Mr. Chapman were “not rooted in facts.” He said that his groups were major recruiters of Black officers, and that it would be silly to attack one’s superiors for personal gain.“Who in their right mind for self-promotion would go into an agency where people carry guns, determine your salary, your livelihood, and just critique them?” Mr. Adams said. “Unless you really believe in what you are doing.”As he skewered the Police Department, Mr. Adams was also investigated four times by it.Investigators examined his relationships with the boxer Mike Tyson, who was convicted of rape in 1992, and Omowale Clay, a Black activist who had been convicted of federal firearms violations. Police officers are forbidden from knowingly associating with people involved in crime.The department also investigated a Black police officer’s report that Mr. Adams and others in 100 Blacks had harassed him. Investigators could not prove Mr. Adams violated department rules.Mr. Adams and the group sued the department, accusing it of violating their civil rights by using wiretaps during the Clay and the harassment investigations. The suit was dismissed by a judge who called the wiretapping accusations “baseless.” (The department had obtained telephone records.)“You do an analysis of my Internal Affairs Bureau investigations, you’ll see they all come out with the same thing,” Mr. Adams said. “Eric did nothing wrong.”In October 2005, Mr. Adams gave a television interview in which he accused the department of timing an announcement about a terrorist threat to give Mayor Michael R. Bloomberg an excuse to skip an election debate. Speaking to The Times, Mr. Adams said the department had not deployed officers to deal with the threat as officials claimed.He was brought up on disciplinary charges, and a Police Department tribunal found him guilty of speaking for the department without authorization. Mr. Kelly docked Mr. Adams 15 days of vacation pay. Mr. Adams retired, ran for State Senate and won.“When I put in to retire, they all of a sudden served me with department charges,” Mr. Adams said in his oral history interview. “It was a good way to leave the department. Leaving it the way I came in: Just fighting.”J. David Goodman More

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    Will Christian America Withstand the Pull of QAnon?

    The scandals, jagged-edged judgmentalism and culture war mentality that have enveloped significant parts of American Christendom over the last several years, including the nation’s largest Protestant denomination, the Southern Baptist Convention, have conditioned many of us to expect the worst. Which is why the annual meeting of the convention this week was such a pleasant surprise.The convention’s newly elected president, the Rev. Ed Litton, barely defeated the Rev. Mike Stone, the choice of the denomination’s insurgent right. Mr. Litton, a soft-spoken pastor in Alabama who is very conservative theologically, has made racial reconciliation a hallmark of his ministry and has said that he will make institutional accountability and care for survivors of sexual abuse priorities during his two-year term.“My goal is to build bridges and not walls,” Mr. Litton said at a news conference after his victory, pointedly setting himself apart from his main challenger. But those bridges won’t be easy to build.Tensions in the convention are as high as they’ve been in decades; it is a deeply fractured denomination marked by fierce infighting. The Conservative Baptist Network, which Mr. Stone is part of, was formed in 2020 to stop what it considers the convention’s drift toward liberalism on matters of culture and theology.Ruth Graham and Elizabeth Dias of The Times describe the individuals in the Conservative Baptist Network as “part of an ultraconservative populist uprising of pastors” who want to “take the ship.” They are zealous, inflamed, uncompromising and eager for a fight. They nearly succeeded this time. And they’re not going away anytime soon.They view as a temporary setback the defeat of Mr. Stone, who came within an eyelash of winning even after allegations by the Rev. Russell Moore, the former head of the Southern Baptist Convention’s public policy arm, that Mr. Stone blocked investigations of sexual abuse at Southern Baptist churches and engaged in a broader campaign of intimidation. (Mr. Stone has denied the charges.)True to this moment, the issues dividing the convention are more political than theological. What preoccupies the denomination’s right wing right now is critical race theory, whose intellectual origins go back several decades, and which contends that racism is not simply a product of individual bigotry but embedded throughout American society. As The Times put it, “the concept argues that historical patterns of racism are ingrained in law and other modern institutions, and that the legacies of slavery, segregation and Jim Crow still create an uneven playing field for Black people and other people of color.”What upset many members of the Conservative Baptist Network was a nonbinding 2019 resolution approved at the convention’s annual meeting stating that critical race theory and intersectionality could be employed as “analytical tools” — all the while acknowledging that their insights could be subject to misuse and only on the condition that they be “subordinate to Scripture” and don’t serve as “transcendent ideological frameworks.”Late last year, the Rev. J.D. Greear, who preceded Mr. Litton as president, tweeted that while critical race theory as an ideological framework is incompatible with the Bible, “some in our ranks inappropriately use the label of ‘CRT!’ to avoid legitimate questions or as a cudgel to dismiss any discussion of discrimination. Many cannot even define what C.R.T. is. If we in the S.B.C. had shown as much sorrow for the painful legacy that sin has left as we show passion to decry C.R.T., we probably wouldn’t be in this mess.” (The Southern Baptist Convention was created as a result of a split with northern Baptists over slavery. In 1995, the convention voted to “repent of racism of which we have been guilty.”) In his farewell address as president last week, Mr. Greear warned against “an S.B.C. that spends more energy decrying things like C.R.T. than they have of the devastating consequences of racial discrimination.” And another former president of the convention, the Rev. James Merritt, said, “I want to say this bluntly and plainly: if some people were as passionate about the Gospel as they were critical race theory, we’d win this world for Christ tomorrow.”Even if you believe, as I do, that some interpretations of critical race theory have problematic, illiberal elements to them, it is hardly in danger of taking hold in the 47,000-plus congregations in the convention, which is more theologically and politically conservative than most denominations. What is ripping through many Southern Baptist churches these days — and it’s not confined to Southern Baptist churches — is a topic that went unmentioned at the annual convention last week: QAnon conspiracy theories.Dr. Moore, who was an influential figure in the Southern Baptist Convention until he split with the denomination just a few weeks ago, told Axios, “I’m talking literally every day to pastors, of virtually every denomination, who are exhausted by these theories blowing through their churches or communities.” He said that for many, QAnon is “taking on all the characteristics of a cult.”Bill Haslam, the former two-term Republican governor of Tennessee, a Presbyterian and the author of “Faithful Presence: The Promise and the Peril of Faith in the Public Square,” put it this way in a recent interview with The Atlantic:I have heard enough pastors who are saying they cannot believe the growth of the QAnon theory in their churches. Their churches had become battlegrounds over things that they never thought they would be. It’s not so much the pastors preaching that from pulpits — although I’m certain there’s some of that — but more people in the congregation who have become convinced that theories are reflective of their Christian faith.According to a recent poll by the conservative American Enterprise Institute, nearly a third of white evangelical Christian Republicans — 31 percent — believe in the accuracy of the QAnon claim that “Donald Trump has been secretly fighting a group of child sex traffickers that include prominent Democrats and Hollywood elites.” White evangelicals are far more likely to embrace conspiracy theories than nonwhite evangelicals. Yet there have been no statements or resolutions by the Southern Baptist Convention calling QAnon “incompatible with the Baptist Faith & Message,” which six S.B.C. seminary presidents said about critical race theory and “any version of critical theory” late last year. Too many Southern Baptist leaders, facing all sorts of internal problems and dangers, would rather divert attention and judgment to the world outside their walls. This is not quite what Jesus had in mind.The drama playing out within the convention is representative of the wider struggle within American Christianity. None of us can fully escape the downsides and the dark sides of our communities and our culture. The question is whether those who profess to be followers of Jesus show more of a capacity than they have recently to rise above them, to be self-critical instead of simply critical of others, to shine light into our own dark corners, even to add touches of grace and empathy in harsh and angry times.That happens now and then, here and there, and when it does, it can be an incandescent witness. But the painful truth is it doesn’t happen nearly enough, and in fact the Christian faith has far too often become a weapon in the arsenal of those who worship at the altar of politics.Rather than standing up for the victims of sexual abuse, their reflex has been to defend the institutions that cover up the abuse. Countless people who profess to be Christians are having their moral sensibilities shaped more by Tucker Carlson’s nightly monologues than by Jesus’ Sermon on the Mount.Perhaps without quite knowing it, many of those who most loudly proclaim the “pre-eminence of Christ” have turned him into a means to an end, a cruel, ugly and unforgiving end. And this, too, is not quite what Jesus had in mind.Peter Wehner (@Peter_Wehner), a senior fellow at the Ethics and Public Policy Center who served in the Reagan, George H.W. Bush and George W. Bush administrations, is a contributing Opinion writer and the author of “The Death of Politics: How to Heal Our Frayed Republic After Trump.”The Times is committed to publishing a diversity of letters to the editor. We’d like to hear what you think about this or any of our articles. Here are some tips. And here’s our email: letters@nytimes.com.Follow The New York Times Opinion section on Facebook, Twitter (@NYTopinion) and Instagram. More

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    Battle for Black Voters in N.Y.C. Mayor’s Race Centers on Policing

    As New York’s Democratic primary nears, Black voters appear torn between Eric Adams and Maya Wiley and their divergent views on balancing public safety and civil rights.With concerns rising over violent crime in New York City, the Rev. Al Sharpton posed a sensitive question to several mayoral candidates at a recent forum in Harlem: Would they consider embracing the stop-and-frisk policing tactic as part of their public safety strategy?“Is that a serious question, Rev.?” said Maya Wiley, a civil rights lawyer. “We are not going backward to what beat us, what broke our ankles, busted our jaws and put our kids in jail for poverty.”But Eric Adams, a former police officer who, like Ms. Wiley, is Black, saw the issue differently.“It’s a constitutional policy given to law enforcement officers,” he said, while quickly acknowledging that the police had been allowed to abuse it by stopping people without probable cause.The sharp increase in shootings and homicides in New York has made crime the No. 1 issue for voters this year, polls show, but that concern is being felt even more deeply in predominantly Black neighborhoods that have struggled with both gun violence and the effects of overly aggressive policing.Black voters, who make up more than a quarter of the city’s electorate, are a valuable constituency: Their support played an instrumental role in the 1989 election of David N. Dinkins, the city’s first Black mayor, and in the 2013 win by Bill de Blasio, who is finishing up his second and final term.All 13 Democratic candidates for mayor have courted votes in Black neighborhoods and churches. But according to polls and interviews across the city, Black voters seem to be zeroing in on two of the seven Black candidates: Mr. Adams, who has led recent polls, and, to a lesser extent, Ms. Wiley.Their very different approaches to public safety and criminal justice concerns have become central to their attempts to win over Black voters, roughly a year after national protests against police brutality erupted after the murder of George Floyd in Minneapolis.“Parallel with our concern about police violence is our concern about gun violence,” Mr. Sharpton said. “You have Black people that live in neighborhoods where we are afraid of the cops and the robbers.”At an early polling site at the Bronx County Courthouse, Zuri Washington, 30, said she ranked Ms. Wiley first and left Mr. Adams off her ballot because of their stances on policing and public safety.“I know that crime is up in the city, I understand that. But that doesn’t mean we need more police,” Ms. Washington, an actress, said after casting her ballot on Saturday. “There needs to be different strategies for moving forward, and Eric Adams is not that person.”But other early voters cited the rising crime numbers: As of June 6, shootings in New York City had risen by 68 percent from last year; homicides had risen by 12 percent over the same period.Fears of violent crime have led some leaders in predominantly Black neighborhoods to reject efforts to defund the police, highlighting a divide that cuts across racial, ideological and generational lines. “I would like to feel safe walking down the street,” said Barbara Mack, a retired guidance counselor who voted for Mr. Adams on Saturday in South Jamaica, Queens.“He’s been a police officer,” Ms. Mack said. “He’s supervised police. He’s tough. I don’t think he’ll accept garbage.”In the 2013 mayoral campaign, Mr. de Blasio seized on the Police Department’s overreliance on stop-and-frisk tactics, where officers stopped and questioned thousands of mostly Black and Latino men, the overwhelming majority of whom were found to have done nothing wrong.Mr. de Blasio aggressively opposed the police tactic, and was able to defeat a handful of more established Democratic rivals, including William C. Thompson, the former city comptroller who was the lone Black candidate that year.This year, four of the eight main candidates in the Democratic primary are Black: Mr. Adams; Ms. Wiley; Dianne Morales, a former nonprofit executive; and Raymond J. McGuire, a former vice chairman at Citi.Their positions on policing and public safety offer some clear distinctions, with Ms. Wiley and Ms. Morales on the left and Mr. Adams and Mr. McGuire toward the political center.Ms. Morales, who identifies as Afro-Latina, has embraced the defund the police movement by promising to cut $3 billion from the police budget and put the money toward social services.Mr. McGuire formerly served on the New York City Police Foundation, a nonprofit that supports the Police Department, and has come out firmly against the defund movement but said he will not increase the use of stop and frisk.Neither has made an impact in the limited public polling available, including among Black voters. In a poll released on Monday by the Marist Institute for Public Opinion, 43 percent of likely Black primary voters said they planned to rank Mr. Adams first; Ms. Wiley was a distant second with 11 percent.But Ms. Wiley has gained momentum, winning endorsements in recent weeks from influential left-leaning politicians like Representatives Alexandria Ocasio-Cortez and Jamaal Bowman, Senator Elizabeth Warren of Massachusetts and Jumaane Williams, the city’s public advocate.She has pledged to cut $1 billion from the police budget, cancel two classes of incoming police cadets and end the use of taxpayer money to defend officers in “egregious” instances of misconduct.“Stop and frisk is not coming back in a Maya Wiley administration, nor is the anti-crime unit,” Ms. Wiley said recently after greeting voters outside Yankee Stadium, referencing plainclothes units of officers that were focused on violent crime and were involved in a high number of shootings. They were disbanded last year but Mr. Adams has proposed bringing them back.Earlier this month, Ms. Wiley released an ad criticizing the Police Department’s response to the protests over the murder of Mr. Floyd. “They rammed into peaceful protesters, beat others to the ground and New York’s leaders defended it,” Ms. Wiley said in the ad.That same day, Mr. Adams also released an ad, titled “Safer,” which focused on how he plans to help New Yorkers “feel safe and secure” so that children could play “without getting hit by a stray bullet.”Maya Wiley, who has recently won endorsements from influential left-leaning politicians, argues that increasing policing is not the way to improve safety.Andrew Seng for The New York TimesFurther contrasts were clear after the shooting death of Justin Wallace, 10, in Queens. Ms. Wiley noted on Twitter that the “N.Y.P.D. couldn’t protect” the child, but it could “march through a park in riot gear, terrorizing people to enforce an arbitrary curfew,” referring to tactics employed at Washington Square Park in Greenwich Village.Mr. Adams said: “You can’t have a city where 10-year-old babies are shot.”Throughout the campaign, Mr. Adams has highlighted his background as a transit officer and as a Police Department captain who spoke out against discriminatory policies from within the agency. Mr. Adams’s testimony in 2013 helped a federal judge rule that the way the Police Department was using stop and frisk was unconstitutional..css-1xzcza9{list-style-type:disc;padding-inline-start:1em;}.css-3btd0c{font-family:nyt-franklin,helvetica,arial,sans-serif;font-size:1rem;line-height:1.375rem;color:#333;margin-bottom:0.78125rem;}@media (min-width:740px){.css-3btd0c{font-size:1.0625rem;line-height:1.5rem;margin-bottom:0.9375rem;}}.css-3btd0c strong{font-weight:600;}.css-3btd0c em{font-style:italic;}.css-w739ur{margin:0 auto 5px;font-family:nyt-franklin,helvetica,arial,sans-serif;font-weight:700;font-size:1.125rem;line-height:1.3125rem;color:#121212;}#NYT_BELOW_MAIN_CONTENT_REGION .css-w739ur{font-family:nyt-cheltenham,georgia,’times new roman’,times,serif;font-weight:700;font-size:1.375rem;line-height:1.625rem;}@media (min-width:740px){#NYT_BELOW_MAIN_CONTENT_REGION .css-w739ur{font-size:1.6875rem;line-height:1.875rem;}}@media (min-width:740px){.css-w739ur{font-size:1.25rem;line-height:1.4375rem;}}.css-9s9ecg{margin-bottom:15px;}.css-uf1ume{display:-webkit-box;display:-webkit-flex;display:-ms-flexbox;display:flex;-webkit-box-pack:justify;-webkit-justify-content:space-between;-ms-flex-pack:justify;justify-content:space-between;}.css-wxi1cx{display:-webkit-box;display:-webkit-flex;display:-ms-flexbox;display:flex;-webkit-flex-direction:column;-ms-flex-direction:column;flex-direction:column;-webkit-align-self:flex-end;-ms-flex-item-align:end;align-self:flex-end;}.css-12vbvwq{background-color:white;border:1px solid #e2e2e2;width:calc(100% – 40px);max-width:600px;margin:1.5rem auto 1.9rem;padding:15px;box-sizing:border-box;}@media (min-width:740px){.css-12vbvwq{padding:20px;width:100%;}}.css-12vbvwq:focus{outline:1px solid #e2e2e2;}#NYT_BELOW_MAIN_CONTENT_REGION .css-12vbvwq{border:none;padding:10px 0 0;border-top:2px solid #121212;}.css-12vbvwq[data-truncated] .css-rdoyk0{-webkit-transform:rotate(0deg);-ms-transform:rotate(0deg);transform:rotate(0deg);}.css-12vbvwq[data-truncated] .css-eb027h{max-height:300px;overflow:hidden;-webkit-transition:none;transition:none;}.css-12vbvwq[data-truncated] .css-5gimkt:after{content:’See more’;}.css-12vbvwq[data-truncated] .css-6mllg9{opacity:1;}.css-qjk116{margin:0 auto;overflow:hidden;}.css-qjk116 strong{font-weight:700;}.css-qjk116 em{font-style:italic;}.css-qjk116 a{color:#326891;-webkit-text-decoration:underline;text-decoration:underline;text-underline-offset:1px;-webkit-text-decoration-thickness:1px;text-decoration-thickness:1px;-webkit-text-decoration-color:#326891;text-decoration-color:#326891;}.css-qjk116 a:visited{color:#326891;-webkit-text-decoration-color:#326891;text-decoration-color:#326891;}.css-qjk116 a:hover{-webkit-text-decoration:none;text-decoration:none;}After a shooting in Times Square last month that injured several tourists, Mr. Adams held two crime-related news conferences within 24 hours, and renewed calls to reinstitute the plainclothes anti-crime unit to focus on guns and gangs. He proposed a 511 hotline for gun tips following a weekend in May when the police said more than two dozen people were shot across the city, and he has denounced graffiti, ATVs and dirt bikes as signs of lawlessness.And after several instances of violence on the subway, Mr. Adams rode the train to Brooklyn from Manhattan with members of the Transport Workers Union Local 100 to call for more police officers to patrol the system.“It’s really wild out here,” said Cassandra Solomon, 55, a legal administrative assistant from Bedford-Stuyvesant in Brooklyn, who spoke with Mr. Adams on the subway platform at West 4th Street. “I know the whole climate with the police and our young Black men, but we still need some kind of protection.”Mr. Adams has tried to moderate his message on policing by saying that he would improve police training and speed up the disciplinary process to remove abusive officers.Early voters in Southeast Queens over the weekend cited Mr. Adams’s familiarity with how both crime and police brutality can affect a neighborhood. Gail Whiteman, a fraud investigator with the city, and Karen DeGannes, a retired city police officer, said they both voted for Mr. Adams because of “the police situation,” as Ms. Whiteman called it.The two Black women said they believed Mr. Adams, as a former officer, was best suited to change police culture and reduce police brutality.Criminal justice reform advocates, however, say that Mr. Adams’s positions do not track with how the defund movement has shifted the conversation away from policing as the main source of public safety.“In the ’90s, the city saw the problems of joblessness and homelessness and the lack of mental health care, and the police were brought in to meet that need,” said Anthonine Pierre, a spokeswoman for the Communities United for Police Reform Action Fund. “That resulted in Black people being railroaded out of communities and into jail.”All four of the leading Black candidates say they would look for ways to move money from the police budget to schools, mental health and social services either through wholesale cuts or by cutting inefficiencies.But Mr. Adams is the only major Democratic candidate who has said that stop-and-frisk tactics should be used, as long as the interactions were analyzed to make sure officers are complying with the law.He has said he would protect officers who follow the rules, “but if you are abusive in my city you are going to be out of the department.” He has pledged to name a woman as police commissioner and said that he would give civilian panels the power to choose their precinct commanders.Yet even some Black legislators who have endorsed Mr. Adams disagree with his stance on stop and frisk.“I’m not a proponent of stop and frisk because it’s a net negative on Black and brown individuals, especially Black and brown youth,” said State Senator Jamaal Bailey, the chairman of the Bronx Democratic Party, even as his party endorsed Mr. Adams earlier this month. “But we can learn from someone who has had actual policing experience.”As the primary season entered its final days, Mr. Adams and Ms. Wiley have focused their attention on traditionally Black areas like Bedford-Stuyvesant, Southeast Queens and Harlem.On a recent Sunday, Mr. Adams held a rally with Black educators in front of the Schomburg Center for Research in Black Culture in Harlem. A few weeks earlier he gathered with a group of mostly Black male supporters at Frederick Douglass Circle.When Ms. Wiley received an endorsement from Representative Hakeem Jeffries, the state’s highest-ranking House Democrat, she did so at Restoration Plaza, a community anchor in Bedford-Stuyvesant. Community Voices Heard Power, a group focused on racial, social and economic justice, half of whose members are Black women, endorsed her at the Harriet Tubman Memorial in Harlem.“I am here to tell you that we will no longer allow the powers that be in this city to talk about us without answering to us,” said Afua Atta-Mensah, the group’s executive director, her voice rising as if she was drawing vitality from the towering 10-foot-tall bronze statue behind her. “It’s our time now.”Sean Piccoli contributed reporting. More

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    Maya Wiley and the Color Purple

    The candidate for New York mayor has consciously picked a signature shade. Here’s why.Last week, during the first in-person Democratic debate for New York mayoral candidates, Maya Wiley, the 57-year-old progressive, did something unexpected.Not exceed her allotted response time (though she did do that) or go on the offensive when it came to stating her position as a mother and how it informs her plans for “smart policing” (though she also did that), but, rather, switch up her usual purple jacket, her official campaign color, for a bright red one.“Red is bold, vibrant, living, pulsing and signifies, ‘Bring it,’” she said in an interview in March. It means: “You want to go? We can go!”Ever since she entered the race, Ms. Wiley has used color to differentiate herself. Each candidate has embraced the idea of a visual signature to varying degrees: Raymond J. McGuire’s sharp tailoring calls to mind his background as a Wall Street executive; Dianne Morales’s black turtlenecks recall the no-nonsense disruption of Steve Jobs (and, perhaps, less salubriously, Elizabeth Holmes); Andrew Yang’s lack of a tie, his striped scarves and “Math” pins and hats bring to mind his background in tech. But Ms. Wiley has hewed to a political strategy of coordinating the colors of her campaign and her clothing more than anyone else. There she was, on Oct. 8, 2020, standing on the steps of the Brooklyn Museum wearing a bright plum peak-lapel blazer and coordinating fuchsia scarf. She wore purple again — this time lilac — for her first televised ad campaign.And she wore amethyst for the first virtual primary debate, broadcast on NY1 in May. Though she has appeared in other jewel tones since the campaign began, like emerald, jade and sapphire, purple is by far the defining color of her candidacy.Her competitors have taken notice.Ms. Wiley recently spoke out against the rise of anti-Asian rhetoric and condemned a racist caricature of her opponent Andrew Yang in The New York Daily News (similar to one of the Obamas on a 2008 cover of the New Yorker magazine). To thank her, Evelyn Yang, Mr. Yang’s wife, tweeted a photo featuring the Yangs with Ms. Wiley, in which both Ms. Wiley and Ms. Yang were wearing purple.“Thank you for your leadership @mayawiley. You were also the first to condemn the backhanded racist innuendo from the beginning. It was a pleasure to meet you, and I’m wearing your colors!” Ms. Yang wrote.Unlike the purple worn during the Biden inauguration, Ms. Wiley’s purple is not about bipartisanship, she said. On the contrary, it’s about making references to her “shero” Shirley Chisholm, the first Black woman elected to Congress. Ms. Wiley is, after all, running to be the first Black female mayor of New York. It will not be easy: There are eight major candidates, and not one of them has established a dominant lead. (Ms. Wiley has strong support among the progressive wing, with endorsements from Alexandria Ocasio-Cortez and Elizabeth Warren.) “I launched in purple on purpose,” said Ms. Wiley, who was the first Black female counsel for the mayor of New York, and a former NBC News and MSNBC legal analyst. (She still appears on NBC as a volunteer guest analyst.) “Purple was Shirley Chisholm’s color.”According to Patrick Egan, an associate professor of politics and public policy at New York University: “Purple was often the color of royalty, going way back. A candidate for an office like mayor of New York City has to walk a delicate line. New Yorkers like to think that their candidates for elected office are of the people, but we also like them to have a bit of pizazz and chutzpah that says that this is a person who is a cut above at the same time.”In her Brooklyn home office, surrounded by books and ephemera like small sculptures and candles atop low, double-decker bookshelves, Ms. Wiley elaborated on the idea over Zoom.A still from Maya Wiley’s campaign announcement video.Maya Wiley in a screenshot from the May 13 New York mayoral debate.Spectrum News NY1 & the NYC Campaign Finance Board“Shirley said, ‘People have to feel you,’” she said. “In typical campaign mode, pre-Covid, you get all these different ways for people to feel you — you can be with them, talk to them, look them in the eye.” But because so much of the campaign is happening remotely, she said, “appearance is even more important in helping people to feel me and know who I am.”Though she is aware of the way appearance has been used for and against women, especially Black women (remember the to-do about Michelle Obama’s arms in an official White House portrait during her time as first lady?), and the fact that, as a result, most female candidates have refused to engage with the topic, she has a different approach. Chalk it up to her experience on TV, where she was keenly aware of perception and the balance between “drawing the viewer’s eye” and getting them to hear the message, as she told The New York Times in an earlier interview..css-1xzcza9{list-style-type:disc;padding-inline-start:1em;}.css-3btd0c{font-family:nyt-franklin,helvetica,arial,sans-serif;font-size:1rem;line-height:1.375rem;color:#333;margin-bottom:0.78125rem;}@media (min-width:740px){.css-3btd0c{font-size:1.0625rem;line-height:1.5rem;margin-bottom:0.9375rem;}}.css-3btd0c strong{font-weight:600;}.css-3btd0c em{font-style:italic;}.css-w739ur{margin:0 auto 5px;font-family:nyt-franklin,helvetica,arial,sans-serif;font-weight:700;font-size:1.125rem;line-height:1.3125rem;color:#121212;}#NYT_BELOW_MAIN_CONTENT_REGION .css-w739ur{font-family:nyt-cheltenham,georgia,’times new roman’,times,serif;font-weight:700;font-size:1.375rem;line-height:1.625rem;}@media (min-width:740px){#NYT_BELOW_MAIN_CONTENT_REGION .css-w739ur{font-size:1.6875rem;line-height:1.875rem;}}@media (min-width:740px){.css-w739ur{font-size:1.25rem;line-height:1.4375rem;}}.css-9s9ecg{margin-bottom:15px;}.css-uf1ume{display:-webkit-box;display:-webkit-flex;display:-ms-flexbox;display:flex;-webkit-box-pack:justify;-webkit-justify-content:space-between;-ms-flex-pack:justify;justify-content:space-between;}.css-wxi1cx{display:-webkit-box;display:-webkit-flex;display:-ms-flexbox;display:flex;-webkit-flex-direction:column;-ms-flex-direction:column;flex-direction:column;-webkit-align-self:flex-end;-ms-flex-item-align:end;align-self:flex-end;}.css-12vbvwq{background-color:white;border:1px solid #e2e2e2;width:calc(100% – 40px);max-width:600px;margin:1.5rem auto 1.9rem;padding:15px;box-sizing:border-box;}@media (min-width:740px){.css-12vbvwq{padding:20px;width:100%;}}.css-12vbvwq:focus{outline:1px solid #e2e2e2;}#NYT_BELOW_MAIN_CONTENT_REGION .css-12vbvwq{border:none;padding:10px 0 0;border-top:2px solid #121212;}.css-12vbvwq[data-truncated] .css-rdoyk0{-webkit-transform:rotate(0deg);-ms-transform:rotate(0deg);transform:rotate(0deg);}.css-12vbvwq[data-truncated] .css-eb027h{max-height:300px;overflow:hidden;-webkit-transition:none;transition:none;}.css-12vbvwq[data-truncated] .css-5gimkt:after{content:’See more’;}.css-12vbvwq[data-truncated] .css-6mllg9{opacity:1;}.css-qjk116{margin:0 auto;overflow:hidden;}.css-qjk116 strong{font-weight:700;}.css-qjk116 em{font-style:italic;}.css-qjk116 a{color:#326891;-webkit-text-decoration:underline;text-decoration:underline;text-underline-offset:1px;-webkit-text-decoration-thickness:1px;text-decoration-thickness:1px;-webkit-text-decoration-color:#326891;text-decoration-color:#326891;}.css-qjk116 a:visited{color:#326891;-webkit-text-decoration-color:#326891;text-decoration-color:#326891;}.css-qjk116 a:hover{-webkit-text-decoration:none;text-decoration:none;}At that time, Ms. Wiley described her aesthetic as “Boho meets B.A.P.” “And I’m sticking with it,” she said now. “That includes all that I am. That includes unapologetically being a Black woman. That includes unapologetically being a Black woman whose parents were activists, but also a Black woman who is a lawyer, so that just envelops all those different parts of me.”As she said this, Ms. Wiley, 57, was wearing the same power-shouldered Anne Klein lilac blazer she had worn in her ad, as well as small interlocking hoop earrings from the Makers Show at City Point Brooklyn, a pop-up shop created by Julie Feltman to support local female entrepreneurs. “Blazers are perfect for me because I just do a black T-shirt and pants underneath,” Ms. Wiley said. “I get to be comfortable and casual at the same time.” In any case, the style choices are her own; she does not use a stylist and doesn’t solicit input on her dress from her staff.Ms. Wiley in April.Stephanie Diani for The New York TimesAccording to Peppermint, the trans actress and performer perhaps best known for her roles on “Pose” and “RuPaul’s Drag Race,” who is a supporter of Ms. Wiley, the candidate’s image is important.“There’s often pressure for Black women to conform to ‘societal norms,’” Peppermint said, noting that Ms. Wiley’s hairstyle in particular stood out as reflecting her “community” instead.Hollywood actresses including Nia Long and Gabrielle Union, as well as news program hosts like Joy Reid, have publicly discussed the behind-the-scenes struggles Black women often face in the public square, especially when it comes to judgments about their hair.Ms. Wiley does her own hair and does not dye her natural gray because, she said in a 2019 interview with The Times: “I earned every last one of these. I turned it into an attitude.” She called her intricately twisted up-do “my crown.”“It’s intentionally a little asymmetrical,” she said. Also, she acknowledged, it’s “a little bit edgy.”In the March interview, Ms. Wiley said she first became aware of style as a small girl growing up in Washington, D.C. when her grandmother made her dresses and sent them to her from Texas. Ms. Wiley believes in color, because, she said, “color is joy.” “Running for office even in a traumatic time doesn’t mean losing all the joy that we can find,” she said. More

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    Voter Suppression Must Be the Central Issue

    The right to vote is everything in a democracy.Without influence over power, you are completely vulnerable to that power. There is no way to access prosperity or ensure personal protection when you live in a society in which people who share your interests are inhibited in their political participation. More

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    Obama Sees Hope in Changes Under Biden

    “My entire politics is premised on the fact that we are these tiny organisms on this little speck floating in the middle of space,” Barack Obama told me, sitting in his office in Washington, D.C.To be fair, I was the one who had introduced the cosmic scale, asking how proof of alien life would change his politics. But Obama, in a philosophical mood, used the question to trace his view of humanity. “The differences we have on this planet are real,” he said. “They’re profound. And they cause enormous tragedy as well as joy. But we’re just a bunch of humans with doubts and confusion. We do the best we can. And the best thing we can do is treat each other better, because we’re all we got.”Before our interview, I’d read “A Promised Land,” the first volume of Obama’s presidential memoirs. It had left me thinking about the central paradox of Obama’s political career. He accomplished one of the most remarkable acts of political persuasion in American history, convincing the country to vote, twice, for a liberal Black man named Barack Hussein Obama during the era of the war on terror. But he left behind a country that is less persuadable, more polarized, and more divided. The Republican Party, of course, became a vessel for the Tea Party, for Sarah Palin, for Donald Trump — a direct challenge to the pluralistic, democratic politics Obama practiced. But the left, too, has struggled with the limits of Obama’s presidency, coming to embrace a more confrontational and unsparing approach to politics.So this is a conversation with Obama about both the successes and failures of his presidency. We talk about his unusual approach to persuasion, when it’s best to leave some truths unsaid, the media dynamics that helped fuel both his and Trump’s campaigns, how to reduce educational polarization, why he believes Americans have become less politically persuadable, the mistakes he believes were made in the design of the 2009 stimulus and the Affordable Care Act, the ways in which Biden is completing the policy changes begun in the Obama administration, what humans are doing now that we will be judged for most harshly in 100 years, and more.You can listen to our whole conversation by following “The Ezra Klein Show” on Apple Podcasts, Spotify, Pocket Casts, Google Podcasts or Stitcher or wherever you get your podcasts. An edited transcript follows.Something I noticed again and again in the book is this very particular approach to persuasion that you have.I think the normal way most of us think about persuasion is you are trying to win an argument with someone. You seem to approach it with this first step of making yourself a person that the other person will feel able to listen to, which means sympathizing with their argument, sanding off some of the edges of your own. Tell me a bit about how you think about that.Now, that’s interesting. I forget whether it was Clarence Darrow, or Abraham Lincoln, or some apocryphal figure in the past who said the best way to win an argument is to first be able to make the other person’s argument better than they can. For me, what that meant was that I had to understand their worldview.And I couldn’t expect them to understand mine if I wasn’t extending myself to understand theirs.Now why that is the way I think about things generally is no doubt partly temperament. Partly it’s biographical. If you’re a kid whose parents are from Kansas and Kenya, and you’re born in Hawaii, and you live in Indonesia, you are naturally having to figure out, well, how did all these pieces fit together?How do all these perspectives, cultures, blind spots, biases, how do you reconcile them to approximate something true? And I think that carries over into my adulthood and into my politics. It’s how I approach the world generally.It presumes that none of us have a monopoly on truth. It admits doubt, in terms of our own perspectives. But if you practice it long enough, at least for me, it actually allows you to not always persuade others, but at least have some solid ground that you can stand on — you can, with confidence say, I know what I think. I know what I believe. It actually gives me more conviction, rather than less, if I’d listened to somebody else’s argument rather than just shutting it off.One of the things that strikes me about it, though, is it sometimes means not calling out arguments that you think are kind of really wrong. In a section of the book about the Tea Party, you mull over whether the reaction they had to you was racist. It’s clear that it at least partly was. And then you say “whatever my instincts might tell me, whatever truth the history books might suggest, I knew I wasn’t going to win over any voters by labeling my opponents racist.” How do you decide when the cost of that kind of truth outweighs the value of it?Well, now you’re describing something a little bit different, which is how do you move large segments of the population politically towards an outcome you want? Versus, how I might persuade somebody one on one?The premise of persuading somebody who you can build some trust with and have a history with — there might be times where you say, you know what, you’re just full of it and let me tell you why. And you can be very logical and incisive about how you want to dismantle their arguments. Although I should add, by the way, don’t, do not try that at home. Because that’s not a recipe for winning arguments with Michelle. But when you’re dealing with 300 million people, with enormous regional, and racial, and religious, and cultural differences, then now you are having to make some calculations.So let’s take the example you used. I write extensively about the emergence of the Tea Party. And we could see that happening with Sarah Palin — she was a prototype for the politics that led to the Tea Party, that, in turn, ultimately led to Donald Trump, and that we’re still seeing today. There were times where calling it out would have given me great satisfaction personally. But it wouldn’t have necessarily won the political day in terms of me getting a bill passed.I think every president has to deal with this. It may have been more noticeable with me — in part because, as the first African American president, there was a presumption, not incorrect, that there were times wher e I was biting my tongue. That’s why the skit that Key and Peele did with the anger translator, Luther, was funny. Because people assumed Barack’s thinking something other than what he’s saying in certain circumstances.A lot of times, one of the ways I would measure it would be: Is it more important for me to tell a basic, historical truth, let’s say about racism in America right now? Or is it more important for me to get a bill passed that provides a lot of people with health care that didn’t have it before?There’s a psychic cost to not always just telling the truth. And I think there were times where supporters of mine would get frustrated if I wasn’t being as forthright about certain things as I might otherwise be. Then there are also just institutional constraints that I think every president has to follow on some of these issues. And it was sort of on a case-by-case basis where you try to make decisions.Sometimes you’d get sufficiently disappointed, let’s say, for example, with gun-safety issues. But after Newtown, for example, and Congress’s complete unwillingness to do anything about the slaughter of children, here were times where I would just go off. Because I felt that deeply about how wrongheaded we were in a basic fundamental way. But that was, let’s face it, after I had exhausted every other possibility of trying to get Congress to move on those issues.Something that really struck me about the book is how much it lives in paradoxes. How much you’re comfortable with the idea that something and its opposite are true at the same time. And I think of persuasion as being the central paradox of your presidency.So you’ve accomplished this massive act of persuasion, winning the presidency twice as a Black man with the middle name Hussein. Now, in retrospect, it’s like, ‘Of course, Barack Obama was president.’I think it’s fair to say that wasn’t a given.It wasn’t as obvious then. But your presidency also made the Republican Party less persuadable. It opened the door in some ways to Sarah Palin, to Donald Trump. And it further closed the door on the kind of pluralistic politics that you try to practice. I’m curious how you hold both of those outcomes together.That’s been the history of America, right? There is abolition, and the Civil War, and then there’s backlash, and the rise of the K.K.K., and then Reconstruction ends, and Jim Crow arises, and then you have a civil rights movement, a modern civil rights movement, and desegregation. And that in turn leads to push back and ultimately Nixon’s Southern strategy. What I take comfort from is that in the traditional two steps forward, one step back, as long as you’re getting the two steps, then the one step back, you know, is the price of doing business.In my case, I get elected. We have a spurt of activity that gets things done. Even after we lose Congress during the course of those eight years, we manage the government, restore some sense that it can work on behalf of people. We regain credibility internationally. But you’re right, it helps to precipitate a shift in the Republican Party that was already there, but probably accelerates it.On the other hand, during that period, you’ve got an entire generation that’s grown up and taking for granted, as you just described, that you’ve got a Black family in the White House, taking for granted that administration can be competent, and have integrity, and not be wrought with scandal. And it serves as a marker, right? It’s planted a flag from which then the next generation builds. And by the way, the next generation can then look back and say, yeah, we do take that for granted. We can do a lot better and go even further.And that is, I wouldn’t say an inevitable progression. Sometimes the backlash can last a very long time and you can take three steps back after two steps forward. But it does seem to be sort of in the nature of things that any significant movement of social progress, particularly those aspects of social progress that relate to identity, race, gender — all the stuff that is not just dollars and cents, and transactional — that invariably will release some energy on the other side by folks who feel threatened by change.But one lesson I’ve seen a lot of folks on the left take, I think particularly in the Trump years, is that you simply need more confrontation. This can’t just be done through pluralism. I think somewhat people often call cancel culture is part of that reaction. It’s a belief that you really do have to confront the country with the ugliest parts of itself so light can get in and it can heal. Do you think they have a point or that’s the wrong lesson to take?No, I don’t think it’s — well, since we’re on the topic of race, what we saw after George Floyd’s murder was a useful bit of truth telling that young people led. And I think it opened people’s eyes to a renewed way of thinking about how incomplete the process of reckoning has been in this country when it comes to race.But even after I think a shift in perspective around George Floyd, we’re still back into the trenches of how do we get different district attorneys elected? How do we actually reform police departments?Now we’re back in the world of politics. And as soon as we get back into the world of politics, now it’s a numbers game. You have to persuade and you have to create coalitions.So I don’t think it’s an either-or proposition. I think there are times where because of events and moments there’s what we might describe as a teachable moment, and George Floyd’s tragic death was an example of that in very stark terms. A part of what happens as a result of the pandemic is there’s a teachable moment about, maybe this whole deficit hawk thing of the federal government, just being nervous about our debt 30 years from now, while millions of people are suffering — maybe that’s not a smart way to think about our economics. Again, a teachable moment. So there are times when that’s presented. I think you try to drive it home as much as possible and get a reorientation of the body politic.But at some point in this country, in our democracy, you still have to cobble together majorities to get things done. And that is particularly true at the federal level, where — although reconciliation has now presented a narrow window to do some pretty big things — the filibuster, if it does not get reformed, still means that maybe 30 percent of the population potentially controls the majority of Senate seats. And so if you say that 30 percent of the country is irreconcilably wrong, then it’s going to be hard to govern.There’s a pretty fundamental asymmetry that brings out. So I think at the presidential level, you have a three or four-point advantage for Republicans in Electoral College. At the Senate level, it’s playing the range of five points. And the House level, it’s about two. So you have this real difference now between the parties, where Democrats need to win right-of-center voters to win national power, and Republicans do not need to win left-of-center voters to win national power. And that really changes the strategic picture for the two of them.It’s enormous. It’s one of those things that’s in the background of the folks in Washington and people who follow politics closely. But the average American, understandably, isn’t spending a lot of time thinking about Senate rules and gerrymandering and ——How dare you.I’m sorry, Ezra, but you’re on the nerd side of the spectrum on this stuff. As am I. So people don’t understand — well, if the Democrats win the presidency or if they’re in control of the Senate, why aren’t all these things that they promised happening? Or why are they trimming their sails on their single-payer health care plans or what have you?And the answer is, well, the game is tilted in a way that partly arises out of a very intentional desire for Southern states, for example, to maintain power and reduce the power of the federal government. Some of it has to do with demographic patterns, and where populations are distributed. It’s not surprising that the progressive party, the Democratic Party, is more of an urban party. Because by necessity, you got more different kinds of people, right? Immigrants flooding urban areas and settling, and having a different perspective than folks who live in more rural, more homogeneous areas. And once you get Wyoming having the same number of senators as California, you’ve got a problem.That does mean Democratic politics is going to be different than Republican politics. Now the good news is, I also think that has made the Democratic Party more empathetic, more thoughtful, wiser by necessity. We have to think about a broader array of interests and people. And that’s my vision for how America ultimately works best and perfects its union. We don’t have the luxury of just consigning a group of people to say you’re not real Americans. We can’t do that. But it does make our job harder when it comes to just trying to get a bill passed, or trying to win an election.One of the ways that our politics have reoriented since your presidency is around education. For reasons that are too complicated to go into here, when polarization splits along educational lines, as it did in 2016 and 2020, the Democratic disadvantage in the Electoral College gets a lot worse.But you did something really unusual in 2008 and 2012: Educational polarization went down.In 2012, you won noncollege whites making less than $27,000 a year. Donald Trump then won them by more than 20 points. He kept them in 2020. What advice do you have to Democrats to bring educational polarization back down?I actually think Joe Biden’s got good instincts on this. If you’re 45, and working in a blue collar job, and somebody is lecturing me about becoming a computer programmer, that feels like something got spit out of some think tank as opposed to how my real life is lived.People knew I was left on issues like race, or gender equality, and L.G.B.T.Q. issues and so forth. But I think maybe the reason I was successful campaigning in downstate Illinois, or Iowa, or places like that is they never felt as if I was condemning them for not having gotten to the politically correct answer quick enough, or that somehow they were morally suspect because they had grown up with and believed more traditional values.The challenge is when I started running in 2007-2008, it was still possible for me to go into a small town, in a disproportionately white conservative town in rural America, and get a fair hearing because people just hadn’t heard of me. They might say what kind of name is that? They might look at me and have a set of assumptions. But the filter just wasn’t that thick.The prototypical example is I show up in a small town in Southern Illinois, which is closer to the South than it is to Chicago, both culturally as well as geographically. And usually, the local paper was owned by a modestly conservative, maybe even quite conservative usually, guy. He’d call me in. We’d have a cup of coffee. We’d have a conversation about tax policy, or trade, or whatever else he cared about. And at the end of it, usually I could expect some sort of story in the paper saying, well, we met with Obama. He seems like an intelligent young man. We don’t agree with him on much. He’s kind of liberal for our taste, but he had some interesting ideas. And you know, that was it.So then I could go to the fish fry, or the V.F.W. hall, or all these other venues, and just talk to people. And they didn’t have any preconceptions about what I believed. They could just take me at face value. If I went into those same places now — or if any Democratic who’s campaigning goes in those places now — almost all news is from either Fox News, Sinclair news stations, talk radio, or some Facebook page. And trying to penetrate that is really difficult.It’s not that the people in these communities have changed. It’s that if that’s what you are being fed, day in and day out, then you’re going to come to every conversation with a certain set of predispositions that are really hard to break through. And that is one of the biggest challenges I think we face.At the end of the day, I actually have found that — and this still sounds naïve. I think a lot of people would still question this. But I’ve seen it. Most folks actually are persuadable in the sense of they kind of want the same things. They want a good job. They want to be able to support a family. They want safe neighborhoods. Even on really historically difficult issues like race, people aren’t going around thinking, Man, how can we do terrible things to people who don’t look like us? That’s not people’s perspective. What they are concerned about is not being taken advantage of, or is their way of life and traditions slipping away from them? Is their status being undermined by changes in society?And if you have a conversation with folks, you can usually assuage those fears. But they have to be able to hear you. You have to be able to get into the room. And I still could do that back in 2007, 2008. I think Joe, by virtue of biography and generationally, I think he can still reach some of those folks. But it starts getting harder, particularly for newcomers who are coming up.We had a conversation related to this in 2015, where we were talking about polarization and how it had gone up during your presidency. And something you said to me is something I wrestled a lot with in my own book, which is that people are pretty polarized when you start talking about national politics. But then you talk to them a bit more, you find they have other identities: they’re soccer coaches, they go to church, they own a business. And those identities aren’t so politically polarized.I found that persuasive and hopeful at the time But since then, our politics have become that much more nationalized. Our political identities become that much stronger. And this idea that these other identities are deeper seems less and less true. When the political cue comes, you really know what side you’re on. Do you think Americans have just become less persuadable?I think that is what you just identified — in part because of the media infrastructure I described and the siloing of media. In part because of the Trump presidency and the way both sides went to their respective fortresses. Absolutely, I think it’s real. I think it’s worse. I think polling shows it. Anecdotes show it. Thanksgiving becomes a lot more difficult, what we’re seeing right now with respect to vaccines.I mean, I think it’s fair to say that the difference in how George H.W Bush, Bill Clinton, George W. Bush, and Obama administrations approached the basic issue of a pandemic and vaccines — there might be differences in terms of efficacy, or how well programs were run, etc. But it’s hard to imagine a previous Republican administration completely ignoring science, right?Yeah, I’ve thought about what if this were a second term Mitt Romney.Exactly. So that is a fundamental shift. And I think people’s identities have become far more invested as a result in which side are you on politically. It spills over into everyday life, and even small issues that previously were not considered, even political issues.So if you’re a soccer coach now, there might be a conversation about why are all the refs white? Right? And suddenly there’s a long argument, and you’ve got each side immediately tweeting about it. And then Fox News might grab the story and run with it in the most sensational way, and next thing you know, Joe Biden is being asked about a soccer game in Maryland. Right? And when we see that pattern playing itself out in our daily lives, in a way, that’s unhealthy.I think there’s some merit to this, that the decline of other mediating institutions that provided us a sense of place and who we are, whether it was the church or union or neighborhood — those used to be part of a multiple set of building blocks to how we thought about ourselves. And the way that the national conversation evolves, suddenly there’s a right answer across all those lines, right? Which is part of the reason why you don’t get ticket-splitting these days, right?Even when I first came in. what was striking was the degree to which the conservative Democrat or the pro-choice Republican were getting winnowed out of each respective party. What’s interesting is how it filtered. Rather than the public saying we don’t like that, let’s try something else. In some ways, the public’s come to see themselves individually in those terms as well.Also, the choices get starker for them. Something I was thinking about while you were talking was this idea that I think about sometimes that I call “ricochet polarization.” And I’m not asserting symmetry between the two sides. I don’t want to get flak on that.I would jump on you in a second, don’t worry.You were saying a couple minutes ago, that you thought people knew you were pretty left on social issues, on L.G.B.T.Q. issues, on a bunch of issues, but they thought you respected them. But you also — because of what you believed, or also because you thought folks were movable — were restrained on a lot of these issues.You ran in 2008 and you were opposed to gay marriage. You talk in the book about how Axelrod and Plouffe were very careful about avoiding issues that would exacerbate racial conflict. And you guys focused a lot on economics.But then, as people feel persuasion is not working and they see the worst of the other side coming at them, there’s a dynamic that happens, and I see it among Democrats, too, where people are more willing to say, Well, here’s what I really believe. And here’s what I really believe about you. If they’re still going to say I’m a socialist. Then well, maybe I am a socialist. They’re going to say I want to raise taxes on middle-class people, then maybe I do, actually. And each day the parties become a little less restrained because the benefits of restraint seem lower.First of all — and you already offered this caveat, but I want to re-emphasize — it’s not symmetrical because Joe Manchin is still a Democrat in our party. And I think a lot of people look and say the guy’s got to run in West Virginia, a state that Joe Biden lost by 30 percent. And we understand that his politics are not going to be the same as Nancy Pelosi’s. So just by virtue of the fact that we have to earn votes from a lot of different places.And needing center-right voters.And needing center-right voters. Look, the challenge we have is that the other side just did not function that way. And that’s not because there aren’t people in the Republican Party who thought that way.You mentioned Mitt Romney earlier. Well, Mitt Romney was the governor of Massachusetts. And when he was, he made all kinds of sensible compromises. He didn’t approach things the way I would approach things, but there was some sense of what the other side thinks matters. He’s the governor of a Democratic state. I’ve got to recognize that I’m probably more conservative than most people in the state, which means I have to make some accommodations. But as soon as he started running for the presidency, suddenly he’s got to pretend that he’s this hard-right, gun-toting, varmint-killing guy.Severely conservative.Severely conservative. Well, why is that? It’s because a dynamic has been created. And that dynamic, in part, has to do with public officials being lazy, and just saying, this is the easiest way for us to get our folks riled up is to suggest that Obama is a Muslim socialist who is going to take away your guns.But some of it is a media infrastructure that persuaded a large portion of that base that they had something to fear. And fed on that politics of fear and resentment in a way that ironically ended up being a straitjacket for the Republican officials themselves. And some of them were gobbled up by the monster that had been created. And suddenly found themselves retiring because they weren’t angry or resentful enough for the base they had stoked.I think it’s fair to say that you’re critical of the media at points in the book. In your experience watching it, how much do you feel the media reflects politics, and how much do you feel it shapes politics?Well, look, there are certain bad habits that the media cultivated, and had to then re-examine during the Trump era. The classic being what constitutes objectivity.I joke about “President Obama today was savagely attacked by the Republicans for suggesting the earth is round,” right? Republicans suggested that there’s some hidden documents showing the earth is, in fact, flat. In response, Obama said, well — and then it goes on. But it’s presented as he said, they said, and that’s reporting. And you’d have some vague corner of the press room engaged in fact-checking after the fact. But that’s not what appeared on the nightly news.And that taught somebody like a Mitch McConnell that there is no downside for misstating facts, making stuff up, engaging in out-and-out obstruction, reversing positions that you held just a few minutes ago, because now it’s politically expedient to do so. That never reached the public in a way where the public could make a judgment about who’s acting responsibly and who isn’t.I think that the media was complicit in creating that dynamic in a way that understandably is difficult, because, as we discovered during the Trump administration, if an administration is just misstating facts all the time, it starts looking like, gosh, the media’s anti-Trump. And this becomes more evidence of a left wing conspiracy and liberal elites trying to gang up on the guy.Yeah, there’s the objectivity critique, which I actually think, in many ways, the media got better on. But there’s another one laced through the book. And it’s interesting because I think you both benefited from it and become wary of it, which is that in the media, one of our central biases is towards exciting candidates. And you were an exciting candidate in 2008.I stayed exciting. Come on, now.But later on that’s also something that Donald Trump activates in a different way. You have a big set piece at the White House Correspondents Dinner where the Washington Post invites Donald Trump after a year of birtherism. And even in a broader sense, exciting candidates usually shape perceptions of parties. On the right, they tend to be quite extreme. They tend to be, in both parties, either more liberal or more conservative. But part of the dynamic is the media is pressured by social media, and like you look around at who’s up there on Facebook and on Reddit.Conflict sells.Conflict sells. And that’s a way in which I think the perceptions of the parties are changing for people. Because whoever is chair of the House Ways and Means Committee —Who’s considered the voice of —Exactly. Who becomes the voice? How do you reflect on that? You came up, social media is great for you. It seems to me you’ve got some different views on it now. How do you think about that trade-off between excitement and some of the other qualities that are a little bit more nuanced that you worry people are losing sight of?Yeah, I think it is entirely fair. And you’re right, even during my campaign I got weary of it. What my political adviser David Axelrod called — the Obama icon, right? You got the posters, and you got the crowds. And very much focused on me as this comet bursting onto the scene.But I have to tell you that there’s a difference between the issue of excitement, charisma versus rewarding people for saying the most outrageous things. I don’t think anybody would accuse me of just creating controversy, just for the sake of it. The excitement I brought was trying to tell a story about America where we might all start working together and overcome some of our tragic past. And move forward and build a broader sense of community. And it turns out that those virtues actually did excite people.So I don’t agree that that’s the only way that you can get people to read newspapers or click on a site. It requires more imagination and maybe more effort. It requires some restraint to not feed the outrage-inflammatory approach to politics. And I think folks didn’t do it.The birtherism thing, which I was just a taste of things to come, started in the right wing media ecosystem. But a whole bunch of mainstream folks booked him all the time because he boosted ratings. And that wasn’t something that was compelled. It was convenient for them to do, because it was a lot easier to book Donald Trump to let him claim that I wasn’t born in this country than it was to actually create an interesting story that people will want to watch about income inequality? That’s a harder thing to come up with.Let me get at that piece of it, too. So I covered the Affordable Care Act pretty closely. And I’ve thought a lot about its political afterlife. It survived the Republican attempts to gut it. It did become popular.Yeah, my timeline — I thought it was going to happen a little bit quicker. But it did happen.But at the same time, the thing that is striking to me is it didn’t convert many voters over to the Democratic side, including Republican voters who relied on it, who would have lost it if the folks they were voting for got their way.Do you think, given how intense political identities are now, that policy can persuade people to vote differently? Or is partisanship now almost immune to the material consequences of governance?I think over time it does. I think it’s not as immediate. And look, I think it’s important to just remember that when we came into office, the economy was in a free fall. We had to scramble and do a bunch of stuff, some of which was inherited, some of which we initiated to stabilize the financial system. People hated it.It’s hard to just underscore how much the bank bailouts just angered everyone, including me. And then you have this long, slow recovery. Although the economy recovers technically quickly, it’s another five years before we’re really back to people feeling like, OK, the economy is moving and working for me.And the truth is that if Donald Trump doesn’t get elected — let’s say a Democrat, a Joe Biden, or Hillary Clinton had immediately succeeded me, and the economy suddenly has 3 percent unemployment, I think we would have consolidated the sense that, oh, actually these policies that Obama put in place worked. The fact that Trump interrupts essentially the continuation of our policies, but still benefits from the economic stability and growth that we had initiated, means people aren’t sure. Well, gosh, unemployment’s 3.5 percent under Donald Trump.Now I would argue, and I think a lot of economists that I know would suggest, that mostly that had nothing to do with Donald Trump’s policies, and mostly had to do with the fact that we had put the economy on a footing where he essentially just continued the longest peacetime recovery and sustained job growth in American history. But if you’re the average voter you’re kind of thinking, well, you know, looks like Republican policies are working for me to some degree, which probably explains why Trump was able to make some inroads — modest, overstated but real inroads — among non-white voters who were feeling like, what, I’m working and making decent money, and things feel pretty good. So that clouds what I think would have been a more impactful shift in political views towards Democrats as a result of my presidency.I think that what we’re seeing now, is Joe and the administration are essentially finishing the job. And I think it’ll be an interesting test. Ninety percent of the folks who were there in my administration, they are continuing and building on the policies we talked about, whether it’s the Affordable Care Act, or our climate change agenda, and the Paris [climate accord], and figuring out how do we improve the ladders to mobility through things like community colleges.If they’re successful over the next four years, as I think they will be, I think that will have an impact. Does it override that sort of identity politics that has come to dominate Twitter, and the media, and that has seeped into how people think about politics? Probably not completely. But at the margins, if you’re changing 5 percent of the electorate, that makes a difference.Most importantly, I think it does have an impact for young people as they are forming their ideas about politics and who they are. I was both a manifestation of the more progressive views that young people brought to politics in 2008, and 2009, 2010, and I think my presidency helped to solidify a huge tilt in the direction of progressive politics among young people that is now continuing into their 30s as the millennials, and even the Gen Zers, are starting to marry and have families, who know their political identity has been shaped and changed in pretty significant ways.One area where you’re more optimistic than in the book is the idea that better political communication can really change the way people receive policy. I tend to think more about, How could you do policy design so the policy itself could speak more clearly?I actually think we agree on that. I think you hear in the book arguments that we would have — there’d be a bunch of bad reporting around the economy. And I’d get all grumpy, and call in my advisers. I’d say, I need to do more press conferences. I need to give another speech. And they actually were pretty clear to me. They were all, like, look, as long as unemployment’s still at 9 percent, it doesn’t matter how many speeches you give. It’s not going to change things.On the other hand, when people ask me what would I do differently, a lot of times I’ll give broad generalizations, because I don’t want to get too deep in the weeds. But being a policy nerd, you’ll appreciate this: the Making Work Pay tax cut, that was part of our stimulus — where Larry Summers talks me into the idea that we should spread out the tax cut in people’s weekly paychecks, in the drip, drip, drip fashion because the social science shows that they’re more likely to spend it. But if they get a big lump sum, then they might just pay down debt.And we needed more stimulus. And I thought, well, that makes sense. But of course, as a result, nobody thought I’d cut taxes. Or everybody was confident that I had raised their taxes. That’s an example of a policy design where we were too stubborn, I think, initially, around — we’ll just get the policy right and the politics will take care of itself. And as I point out in the book, I should have done a deeper dive in F.D.R., in recognizing that you’ve got to sell the sizzle as well as the steak because that creates the political coalition to continue it.The New Deal had all kinds of policies that actually didn’t work as well as they should have. We get political phrases like pork barrel, and logrolling, and a lot of that comes out of the mismanagement of the federal programs. But you know what? People saw it. They felt it. And they associated their lives getting better with those policies. That’s important.I think a fair critique of us when I look back is the fact that I was sometimes too stubborn about, no, we’re going to just play it straight. And let’s not worry about how the policy sells if it works. Then that’s what we should do.Are there other design ideas that you would advise people to take seriously? I realize there are technical reasons this happened, but I think a lot about how the Affordable Care Act took four years to begin delivering the bulk of health insurance benefits.It’s a good example. I think that there’s no doubt that the team that is now in the Biden administration and thinking about, whether it’s the Covid stimulus package, or how do you build off the Affordable Care Act, they’re mindful of these lessons and they’re saying to themselves, all right, we’ve got to sell this.So on health care in particular, how do we make this simple and stupid so that it’s easily explained, it’s easily understood? The expansion of Medicaid, for example, was probably the part of the Affordable Care Act that had the biggest impact. Quick, easy to administer, didn’t have a lot of moving parts because it was building off an existing program.And look, there are times where it is important in fact to go ahead and plant some seeds even if it doesn’t yield quick political benefits. I use the example, in our stimulus, of the $90 billion we invested in the green economy. Politically that wasn’t a winner for us. We knew that we were going to get some Solyndras, for example, the famous example that the Republicans beat us over the head with where we gave a loan to a solar company that goes belly up.But the truth is, that the reason now we’re seeing such enormous breakthroughs in terms of everything from electric cars to solar efficiency to wind power — all those things that we can now build on in pursuit of future climate policy — a lot of that relied on those programs we started that didn’t have a lot of political benefit. And so you’ve got to calculate.Sometimes I have my friends in the Democratic Party who criticize us, who misapprehend this idea that we had sort of a — what’s it called? Neoliberal perspective. That we had some ideological aversion to pushing the envelope on policy. That’s not the case. We had just political constraints we had to deal with, and we had an emergency we had to deal with.But one thing I was pretty clear about early on, and showed with the Affordable Care Act, was that given we were in a hole economically anyway there was no point in us trying to go small bore. Bill Clinton was able, in his second term, to politically go small because the economy was humming and people were feeling good. We were dealing with what at that point was the worst recession since the Great Depression. Politically, we were going to get clobbered in the midterms. It really didn’t matter what we did. And so we just tried to do as much as we could within the political constraints that we had.And I think that the environment now is such, partly because Republicans spent $2 trillion of their own stimulus — and shockingly weren’t concerned about deficits when they were in power — partly because of the urgency of Covid, and the pandemic, and people recognize they just needed immediate relief and help now. I think we’re now in an environment where if we just get some big pieces in place, building on what we did before, people will notice. And it will have a political impact.It doesn’t override all the deep subterranean political dynamics of our culture — race obviously being at the top of that list, but also changing gender roles, and those who still are engaged in organized religion feeling attacked by sort of an atheist culture. Those things are deep. They’ve always been here. They’re not going away anytime soon. But I guess what I am still confident about is, if we can get some stuff done that works, and we give people the benefit of the doubt, and we continue to reach out, as opposed to yell, that we get better outcomes rather than worse outcomes.I heard you say the other day that you’d like to know what those U.F.O. objects are, too.Absolutely.If it came out that they were alien, if we got an undeniable proof of that, how would that change your politics, or your theory about where humanity should be going?That is an interesting question.Thank you.Well, first of all, depends. Have we made contact with them? Or we just know.We just know —These probes have been sent?Yeah.But we have no way of reaching out?We can’t get in touch. We just know we’re not alone and someone’s been here.It’s interesting. It wouldn’t change my politics at all. Because my entire politics is premised on the fact that we are these tiny organisms on this little speck floating in the middle of space. When we were going through tough political times, and I’d try to cheer my staff up, I’d tell them a statistic that John Holdren, my science adviser, told me, which was that there are more stars in the known universe than there are grains of sand on the planet Earth.Your staff must have loved that.Well, sometimes it cheered them up; sometimes they’d just roll their eyes and say, oh, there he goes again. But the point is, I guess, that my politics has always been premised on the notion that the differences we have on this planet are real. They’re profound. And they cause enormous tragedy as well as joy. But we’re just a bunch of humans with doubts and confusion. We do the best we can. And the best thing we can do is treat each other better because we’re all we’ve got. And so I would hope that the knowledge that there were aliens out there would solidify people’s sense that what we have in common is a little more important.But no doubt there would be immediate arguments about like, well, we need to spend a lot more money on weapons systems to defend ourselves. New religions would pop up. And who knows what kind of arguments we get into. We’re good at manufacturing arguments for each other.Here’s another wonky question. What do we do now that humanity will be judged for most harshly in 100 years?Well, if we don’t get a handle on climate change, then if there’s anybody around to judge us, they’ll judge us pretty harshly on it, because the data is here. We know it. And we have the tools to make real progress with it.One thing that the pandemic has done is to start getting people to think in scale. You can actually put a dollar figure to what it would take to transition to a clean economy. It’s in the trillions of a year globally. But when you think about how much was spent and how much was lost in one year as a result of the pandemic, suddenly making investments in public health systems seem like a pretty good investment.Similarly, maybe it opens up people’s imaginations to say we can actually afford to make this transition. There are some sacrifices involved, but we can do it.And then finally, what three books do you recommend to the audience?A book I just read is “The Overstory,” by Richard Powers. It’s about trees and the relationship of humans to trees. And it’s not something I would have immediately thought of, but a friend gave it to me. And I started reading it, and it changed how I thought about the Earth and our place in it.You’ll never walk through a forest the same way.You really don’t. It changed how I see things and that’s always, for me, a mark of a book worth reading.“Memorial Drive,” by Natasha Tretheway, a poet. It’s a memoir, just a tragic story. Her mother’s former husband, her former stepfather, murders her mother. And it’s a meditation on race, and class, and grief. Uplifting, surprisingly, at the end of it. But just wrenchingAnd then this one is easier. I actually caught up on some past readings of Mark Twain. There’s something about Twain that I wanted to revisit because he’s that most essential of American writers. His satiric eye, and his actual outrage that sometimes gets buried under the comedy, I thought was useful to revisit.(You can listen to the conversation on Apple Podcasts, Spotify, Pocket Casts, Google Podcasts, Stitcher; or wherever you get your podcasts. A full transcript of the episode will be available midday.)Illustration by The New York Times; photograph by Damon Winter/The New York Times“The Ezra Klein Show” is produced by Annie Galvin, Jeff Geld and Rogé Karma; fact-checking by Michelle Harris; original music by Isaac Jones; mixing by Jeff Geld. Special thanks to Shannon Busta and Kristin Lin. More

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    Why a New Mexico House Race Is a Crucial Test of the G.O.P. Focus on Crime

    In a special election to replace Deb Haaland, Democrats are bolstering their nominee, taking no chances that a law-and-order argument against her will cost them what should be a safe House seat.ALBUQUERQUE — In theory, the special election to fill Interior Secretary Deb Haaland’s seat in the House should not be competitive. President Biden carried the Albuquerque-based district by 23 points last year, and there has not been a close race for Congress here since George W. Bush was president.Democrats in Washington and New Mexico, however, are not taking any chances ahead of the election Tuesday. They have flooded Melanie Stansbury, their nominee, with an infusion of late money, dispatched Jill Biden and Doug Emhoff to appear with her in the state, and sought to energize volunteers on her behalf.“This race is the highest priority for us,” House Speaker Nancy Pelosi told nearly a thousand national progressive activists on a conference call Thursday night, adding: “Any victory is good, but we want a nice, decisive victory.”Ms. Pelosi’s eagerness to notch a resounding win reflects the party’s anxiety over one of the most pressing challenges it faces: defusing Republican attacks over law and order.More immediately, it signals the urgency House Democrats feel to maintain their tissue-thin majority in the House. With only a four-seat advantage and a largely unified Republican opposition, Ms. Pelosi needs every vote.The contest between Ms. Stansbury and her opponent Mark Moores, both state legislators, carries symbolic as well as practical implications. Special congressional elections in the first year of a new administration have historically offered insight on the strength of the party in power. And this race may prove to be one of the few competitive elections to fill a vacancy ahead of next year’s midterms.Further, with a number of House Democrats already retiring or running for another office, a surprise loss or even a close victory in New Mexico could accelerate the race to the exits among lawmakers who have little appetite to face a difficult re-election only to serve in the minority.Most of the attention on Ms. Haaland’s seat, however, has focused on a central issue in the race: crime. Mr. Moores, a former University of New Mexico football player who now runs a medical diagnostic testing business, has effectively run a one-note campaign against Ms. Stansbury, an environmental consultant who did stints on Capitol Hill and in former President Barack Obama’s Office of Management and Budget.Mr. Moores has spotlighted the rising murder rate in Albuquerque and assailed Ms. Stansbury as soft on crime for supporting a little-known proposal in Congress that would cut funding for local police departments.“We’ve been talking about that a lot because there’s a lot of bad things in that bill that will make New Mexico more dangerous,” he said in an interview, noting there were already nearly 50 murders in Albuquerque so far this year, double the number in the same time frame last year.At a moment when crime is soaring nationally, any success Republicans have with a law-and-order argument here will embolden them to lash Democrats next year with the “defund the police” calls from some on the party’s left.Senior party officials acknowledge that Ms. Stansbury has handed Mr. Moores a political weapon, and complicated an otherwise sleepy race, by coming out for a measure that has little support in Congress and would almost certainly never come to a vote.In an interview, Ms. Stansbury offered no regrets for her support of the measure, the so-called BREATHE Act, an expansive criminal justice proposal pushed by racial justice activists.“Our country is facing a major reckoning and having a major conversation about racial and social injustice, and I think it’s really critical that we address these issues and we have the conversation,” she said.Ms. Stansbury said she had “helped to bring home tens of millions of dollars of public safety funding back to Albuquerque” through her work in the statehouse.She is trumpeting that achievement in a well-aired advertisement aimed at rebutting Mr. Moores’s charges.Mark Moores, the Republican nominee, has focused almost solely on the issue of crime in his campaign.Sharon Chischilly for The New York TimesYet in a series of speeches to supporters two Saturdays ago, Ms. Stansbury avoided mentioning crime or her work to deliver state dollars to local police. She mostly stuck to platitudes about the community, leaning heavily on the jargon of upscale progressives.The election is about “making sure that New Mexico voices are heard in Congress, that everybody has a seat at the table, that our families are taken care of and that people feel empowered,” Ms. Stansbury told a group of voters before a canvassing drive.Some of her supporters, however, were less reluctant to discuss the violence dominating headlines in this city.“That’s what people care about,” said Vera Watson, a Democratic activist who has been canvassing for Ms. Stansbury, noting that almost everybody on her block has had their house burglarized.Scott Carreathers, the city of Albuquerque’s African-American liaison, said “crime is huge, obviously,” but did not know whether that was part of Ms. Stansbury’s platform.Mr. Carreathers called Mr. Moores an “attractive candidate” and, alluding to the traditionally liberal nature of the district, added: “I just don’t want Democrats to take that for granted.”Representative Sean Patrick Maloney of New York, who runs the House Democratic campaign arm, said suggesting his party is seeking to defund the police is “a pernicious lie.” But Mr. Maloney also authored a review of last year’s elections that highlighted that line of attack as one of the main reasons Democrats nearly lost the House, so he knows well the potency of the charge.What’s working in the Democrats’ favor is that while they have raced to prop up Ms. Stansbury’s campaign with money and reinforcements, out-of-state Republicans have all but abandoned Mr. Moores. Concluding that the heavily urban seat is unwinnable, House Republicans have sent him just $7,000. Ms. Stansbury has been showered with more than $100,000 just from congressional Democrats, enabling her to dramatically outspend Mr. Moores in the final weeks of the race.And with no outside Republican groups broadcasting commercials in the district, Ms. Stansbury has dominated the Albuquerque airwaves.“Yeah the money hasn’t come in like I would’ve liked,” said Mr. Moores. He said Washington Republicans had told him he “had to make this a race” to receive their help.Like other Republicans running in liberal-leaning areas, he has also had to tread gingerly around former President Donald J. Trump’s false claims that last year’s presidential election was stolen.Asked if Mr. Trump was still the leader of the G.O.P., Mr. Moores sighed, paused for a few seconds and said: “I think there’s a lot of leaders of the party.” He acknowledged Mr. Biden had won the election fairly. “We as a nation have to move on,” he said.The partisan composition of early voting returns suggests Ms. Stansbury is well-positioned going into the election on Tuesday: As of May 27, more than twice as many registered Democrats had cast ballots as registered Republicans, according to The Albuquerque Journal.The ballots cast only represent 15 percent of registered voters, though, and it’s unclear if Republicans will show up in larger numbers on the day of the vote, immediately after a holiday weekend.State and national Democrats are confident Ms. Stansbury will prevail, and say her lack of name recognition — she was only elected to the state legislature in 2018 — and a somewhat apathetic electorate are the only things injecting a measure of uncertainty into the race.“People are just exhausted from the election in November,” said State Representative Antonio Maestas, an Albuquerque Democrat. “Political junkies don’t understand that not everybody is a political junkie, so we have to remind our friends and family there’s an election.”After the party’s challenges with some Hispanic voters last year, Democrats have been pleasantly surprised that Mr. Moores, whose mother is a Latina, has not emphasized his ethnicity to contrast himself with Ms. Stansbury, who is white, in a district that’s 43 percent Hispanic.Still, they are working assiduously to avoid an unpleasant surprise on Tuesday. A number of New Mexico-based Democratic operatives with ties to the national party reached out to their contacts in Washington to ensure them that they took the race seriously.And Gov. Michelle Lujan Grisham, a Democrat who represented the district before becoming governor, has spoken to her former colleagues in the Congressional Hispanic Caucus about the contest, according to people familiar with the conversations. On Saturday, Ms. Lujan Grisham and Ms. Stansbury were joined in Albuquerque by Representative Pete Aguilar of California, a member of the Democratic leadership.Representative Cheri Bustos of Illinois, who ran the House Democratic campaign arm in 2020, said there was an aggressive push in the caucus to help Ms. Stansbury.“The initial reaction is, ‘That’s a safe Democratic seat, right, why is everybody asking for money?’” Ms. Bustos said. “But I think everybody wants to be sure.”Ms. Stansbury said she had spoken to Ms. Pelosi about the stakes.“Everyone in Democratic leadership, from the House to the White House to our own Democratic leadership, know how important this race is — everything is on the line in terms of the House majority,” she said. More