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Opinion
When Will the Contented Class Revolt Against Trump?
When will these contented ones collectively start saying, “Enough is enough” and it’s time to say to Donald Trump, “You’re Fired”?
Nov 16, 2025
The reason the famous and prolific Harvard economist, John Kenneth Galbraith, is often referred to as a political economist can be seen in the continuing relevance of his book The Culture of Contentment (1992). His thesis explains in significant part why President Donald Trump’s wrecking of America has not more significantly collapsed his support, now below 39% approval.
In the US, the contented classes hail from both parties. They are not a majority of the population by any means, given that half of all Americans are “poor” or “near poor.” They are a majority of the politically and economically influential people who support policies that maintain their comfort at the expense of the necessities of the “functional underclass” left behind in poverty. The contented classes include the super rich, of course, but also the managerial, professional, and wealthier working classes. In addition, they vote at a higher percentage than the poor.
Before Trump, this contented class, which includes members of Congress, was doing well, so much so that they stood in the way of increasing the federal minimum wage, frozen at $7.25 per hour, or increasing Social Security benefits, frozen for over 40 years. These changes could have been paid for by hiking Social Security taxes on, you guessed it, the contented classes. Despite public opinion polls favoring expanding the social safety net, the contented class wants the status quo of no paid sick leave, no paid family or maternal leave, no subsidized childcare, and no universal paid vacations. Western European countries all have a more robust social safety net than the US.
When you crank in the damage done by Trump and his Trumpsters in Washington, DC, members of the contented classes are largely unaffected. The costs of universally damaging programs cutting preparedness for climate violence, pandemics, huge expansions in the police state against immigrants, and the military-industrial complex are not felt where the contented classes live, work, and raise their families.
Trump’s tyrannies and treacheries; his open flouting of the laws (the establishment likes such flouting to be discreet); and his revolting, foul-mouthed defamations tower over Richard Nixon’s transgressions.
We can make a list of the terrible closedowns or strip-mining of federal agencies’ law enforcement and regulatory initiatives. Very few exclusively impact the contented classes. Some may actually benefit.
Other Trump moves, many of them illegal and unauthorized by Congress, delight these people. They support lower taxes on upper-income people and businesses, large or small. The Internal Revenue Service is now going further with its unauthorized dilutions of the 15% minimum tax on corporate profits. The rising stock market adds to the complacency of the contented classes.
The most cruel and vicious actions by Trump—abolishing the US Agency for International Development, medical, water, food assistance to desperate millions abroad—cuts to Meals on Wheels, Head Start, Medicaid, Supplemental Nutrition Assistance Program (SNAP) impact the masses—tens of millions of them directly and daily. They do not reach the contented class members of our population.
This is not to say that millions of these contented persons do not care what is happening to their fellow citizens. But normative caring is not viscerally feeling the pain and suffering, the anxiety, dread, and fear of losing healthcare coverage; tomorrow’s meal; the brunt of chronic indebtedness; or abandoning the disabled, the sick, and the casualties of the workplace.
Galbraith wrote that living in their contented culture leads to short-term thinking, underinvestment in public goods, and ignoring the widening inequality between the “haves” and the “have-nots.” Inequality also stems from making money from money—a source of wealth denied to people living paycheck to paycheck.
The capture of the Democratic Party by this complacent class has become so pronounced that the blue-collar working-class members have broken away from their unions and parents or grandparents’ devotion to the FDR-like New Deal politics and fallen prey to the rhetorical seduction of the corporatist GOP.
What could Trump do to alienate large portions of this contented class, which Galbraith argues has been the only force that can disrupt the status quo? When will these contented ones collectively start saying, “Enough is enough” and it’s time to say to Donald Trump, “You’re Fired”?
When the following come together—serious recession, serious inflation, with destabilizing (to their businesses) tariff-driven surging prices; a reckless foreign war quagmire; plunging stock markets; daily spreading chaos; and the media-exposed sickening stench of raw corruption flowing from the White House throughout the upper realms of the executive branch—the contented classes should join the resistance to the Trump madness.
Back in 1974, the Republican establishment decided it was time for Richard Nixon to go, despite his having won reelection in 49 of 50 states in 1972, with a 60% approval in the polls. He was not considered “useful” to the power brokers anymore.
Trump’s tyrannies and treacheries; his open flouting of the laws (the establishment likes such flouting to be discreet); and his revolting, foul-mouthed defamations tower over Richard Nixon’s transgressions.
History instructs that latent revulsions and fears by the power elites are often launched onto the public stage by some specific outrage, decadence, or bullying. Stay tuned. With Dictator Donald (he regularly intones, “This is only the beginning”), THE WORST IS YET TO COME.
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What Zohran Mamdani’s Victory Tells Us About America
People across the country need leaders who will stand with them and fight for them with bold ideas that create real solutions for real problems.
Nov 16, 2025
On a crisp November night, I stood shoulder to shoulder at the Brooklyn Paramount Theater with ecstatic New Yorkers celebrating Zohran Mamdani’s victory to become New York City’s first Muslim and South Asian mayor. The ornate hall was filled with people of all races, ethnicities, genders, and ages. I saw elderly South Asian men dancing, young people cheering, women in hijabs and trans women in saris. The venue was filled with hope and promise, and the audience represented the multicultural and multiracial ideals that make America great.
For New Yorkers and millions of people who have felt the political weight of the past years, Mamdani’s ascendance to Gracie Mansion is more than a victory; it is a cultural and emotional reckoning. The current events of the past few years have alienated so many people from politics, but on election night, it was clear that the energy has shifted. Mamdani has ushered in a new generation of politics, one that does not divide across race, religion, or age, but one that brings people together to drive change on the issues that impact their lives.
As a first-generation Muslim immigrant, I felt the November air fill with joy, hope, and an abundance of possibilities. As the CEO of a Muslim voter mobilization organization, I saw how hard the Muslim community worked for this moment, and I recognized the need for leaders like Mamdani and Ghazala Hashmi, who won her race to become Virginia’s first-ever Muslim and South Asian lieutenant governor.
I lead a team of primarily young US-born Muslim Americans, many of whom were born and raised against the backdrop of 9/11. They never lived in an America that embraced their Muslim identities. Yet, they still choose to become activists and organizers working to build a more inclusive and representative America and counter the political machines that demonized them, their families, and their neighbors—both at home and abroad.
New Yorkers showed us that hope and positivity can still win over hate and divisiveness.
Without a doubt, America changed after 9/11, and it slid toward authoritarianism that was largely fueled by rabid anti-Muslim bigotry. Elected officials sought to blame an entire American community for the actions of a few foreigners and waged forever wars that have continued to harm and destabilize entire nations decades later.
Even in today’s Trump era, the America that welcomed me and my family in 1988 from Syria no longer celebrates multiculturalism and the freedom of speech, and it is certainly not seeking peace and justice. Instead, it has continued the war machine of administrations past and fueled new wars against immigrants on American soil.
The election of Donald Trump in 2024 seemed to cement our descent toward isolationism and cruelty—indeed, we are sliding. From the weaponization of Immigration and Customs Enforcement against immigrant communities to the assault against the media to the unabashed corruption and cronyism, American democracy has been severely damaged.
But in the midst of all of this, in the age of Trump 2.0, a young, South Asian man who is unapologetically Muslim was elected mayor of America’s largest city. How could this happen, and what does it tell us about our country? The answer lies in both Mamdani’s platform and in our identity as a nation.
Mamdani’s campaign redefined grassroots organizing, political strategy, and digital outreach. He ran a disciplined and creative campaign that stayed on message no matter what his critics said: Make New York City affordable for all. He spoke the language of unity as his opponents relied on fearmongering and scare tactics. He brought people together under the belief that every day New Yorkers could be agents of change to create the city that they deserve.
Mamdani’s call for affordability was not just a campaign slogan; it was a collective affirmation of what New York City could be. He resonated with voters who are desperately struggling with unaffordable housing, food insecurity, inaccessible transportation, an overburdened healthcare system, and the exorbitant cost of childcare. These issues are not just top of mind for New Yorkers—they are indicative of what most Americans are struggling with. Mamdani remained laser focused on kitchen table issues and committed to a future that cared about the working class. Mamdani transcended his identity and connected directly with everyday people.
But identity does matter, especially for a Muslim-American in New York City. Despite Mamdani’s best efforts to focus on the issues central to his platform, he was forced to confront what his identity meant to the mayoral race—and most importantly, to himself. In the midst of perhaps the ugliest anti-Muslim campaign that we have ever seen directed at a public figure, Mamdani spoke clearly about his values that are grounded in his faith and how it taught him to care for others. He refused to hide it and plainly asked New York to embrace him for who he is. And New York responded with an emphatic yes.
The movement that Mamdani galvanized by meeting everyday New Yorkers where they were led to the highest turnout of voters in a mayoral election since 1969, surpassing all expectations. Over 1 million voters essentially rejected the smears and rose above the hate. They too stayed focused on the issues that actually mattered. New Yorkers showed us that hope and positivity can still win over hate and divisiveness. New Yorkers also showed us that voters can not be bought by deep-pocketed billionaires but can be brought together without demonizing and dehumanizing one another.
Most importantly, Mamdani’s victory showcased that people are hungry for change. We can no longer move forward with politics as usual. Americans across the country need leaders who will stand with them and fight for them. Americans need leaders with bold ideas that create real solutions for real problems.
Past leaders have shown us that America can turn on the people who make this country great. But on November 4, we saw that America is equally capable of producing leaders like Mamdani who fight for the common good.
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Teaching Social Justice Journalism at Trump's Columbia University
The university at large has sold out our students, but the university is not all of us. There are hundreds of faculty on this campus dedicated to the right of our students to learn, debate, protest, research, and report without fear.
Nov 16, 2025
On September 17, 2025, one month before I was to teach my annual social justice reporting class at Columbia University’s Graduate School of Journalism, the campus lowered its flag to half-mast in honor of far-right pontificator Charlie Kirk.
Nobody deserves to be murdered, as Kirk was, but to honor a man of his white supremacist, Christian nationalist, and misogynist beliefs was to spit in the face not only of all the women on campus, but of students and staff of color; the queer and trans students and employees whose identities he characterized as “abominations“; the Muslims whose religion, he said, “is a sword being used to slit the throat of America“; the immigrants he insisted will “replace us” with their “anti-white agenda”; and the Jews he accused of controlling America’s institutions.
Columbia did not have to lower that flag. President Donald Trump ordered federal institutions to do so, but the university is private, not part of the government. No, lowering the flag was a choice.
That Columbia made such a choice is nothing short of astounding, given that its past two years of capitulations to the Trump administration have rested upon the school’s promise to protect its Jewish students and staff from antisemitism. As our current acting president, Claire Shipman, wrote to the university community this past summer in classic Orwellian double-speak:
While Columbia does not admit to wrongdoing… the institution’s leaders have recognized, repeatedly, that Jewish students and faculty have experienced painful, unacceptable incidents, and that reform was and is needed.
So why honor a man who espoused Nazi conspiracy theories?
I bring this up because this flag business was only the latest example of the groveling submission Columbia’s trustees have shown toward this country’s proto-authoritarian government since the 2023 student protests against Israel’s genocide in Gaza gave Republicans the idea of using accusations of antisemitism to attack liberal arts colleges.
Allow me to illustrate with a brief history of this groveling.
The First Year of Capitulation: 2023
In 2023, not long after the horrific Hamas attack on Israeli citizens and Israel’s insanely outsized retaliatory slaughter of tens of thousands of Palestinians, Columbia called in the police against our nonviolent student protesters, locked down the campus for the first time in history, and suspended both its own and Barnard undergraduates, most of them teenage girls, in punishment.
That same year, Columbia’s administration allowed Trumpian Christian nationalists to define who was antisemitic and who wasn’t. It succumbed to and accepted the right-wing false narrative that the campus was rife with Jew haters. And it refused to stand up for the Palestinian, Muslim, Arab, and Jewish students who were being harassed, threatened, and doxxed on and off campus for protesting Israel’s murderous policies.
The Second Year of Capitulation: 2024
In 2024, Columbia groveled even more. It kept the campus locked down (as it does to this day). It put in place so many rules governing protests that it effectively squashed the ability of students to voice their opposition to Israel’s genocide, or even to the government of President Donald Trump. And it refused to offer any support to Palestinian students Mahmoud Khalil and Mohsen Mahdawi when they were arrested and detained by Immigration and Customs Enforcement (ICE) in violation of their First Amendment rights, or when their visas were revoked.
Other universities have not been so cowardly. For example, when Bard College student and Afghan refugee Ali Sajad Faqirzada, who had fled the Taliban regime with his sister, was arrested and detained by ICE at his asylum hearing this October, Bard president Leon Botstein offered him instant support. He contacted the student’s family, mustered local officials to help the family, and sent a letter to the government advocating for Faqirzada’s release. He also issued a statement vowing to stand up for Faqirzada and informing other Bard students of their rights. These were the kinds of morally sound actions we have yet to see from any of our presidents or trustees at Columbia.
The Third Year of Capitulation: 2025
In 2025, after Trump and his minions snatched $400 million away from Columbia, crippling the ability of our scientists and medical researchers to do their work, the university’s capitulations plummeted to even greater depths.
It suspended and even expelled anti-war students for having protested on behalf of slaughtered and starving Palestinians by occupying the campus library.
It agreed to comply with Trump’s ban on DEI (diversity, equity, and inclusion) by no longer using “race, color, sex, or national origin” when hiring anyone or even when admitting students, thus giving in to the Trumpian goal of creating a university largely filled with white, heterosexual, Christian men.
Columbia ought to haul itself up before the OIE for the act of lowering its flag for antisemite Charlie Kirk.
It put the Middle Eastern, South Asian, and African Studies department under special provost supervision or receivership.
It agreed to pay more than $200 million over the next three years in blood money to the Trump administration to restore our funding. (Is it a surprise that my colleagues and I had our salaries frozen this year? And what will Trump do with our school’s money—build a villa in Gaza?)
Columbia also agreed to pay a further $21 million to—in the words of the White House PR machine—“resolve alleged civil rights violations against Jewish employees that occurred following the October 7, 2023 Hamas attack on Israel.” I am sure not a penny of that money will go to Palestinian employees and students whose family members were wounded or killed in Gaza, or who suffered from Islamophobic harassment from other students and outsiders. Nor is it likely that any of that money will be given to the many Jewish students who were manhandled, arrested, and punished for protesting genocide.
Columbia made other concessions as well, too numerous to list here. But among the most egregious was its incorporation of the International Holocaust Remembrance Alliance (IHRA) definition of antisemitism, which conflates any criticism of the state of Israel with hatred of Jews. This set off alarms among many of our faculty members, Jewish and otherwise, who know that scholars have long rejected the IHRA definition as restricting free speech and academic freedom, and as nakedly antidemocratic.
Yet, in a summer letter to Columbia’s faculty and staff, president Shipman not only proudly announced the school’s incorporation of IHRA, but made it clear that any of us who don’t comply with that definition could be brought before the University’s Office of Institutional Equity (OIE) and censored or even fired.
Under that directive, Columbia ought to haul itself up before the OIE for the act of lowering its flag for antisemite Charlie Kirk.
Adding insult to injury, Columbia’s Task Force on Anti-Semitism, a committee of professors who spearheaded the dubious claim that our campus was riddled with anti-Jewish sentiment, offered not a peep of objection to the campus lowering of that flag. When I asked one of the Task Force’s architects why, he told me that the committee “does not issue statements.” The hypocrisy of a university that forms a task force against antisemitism and then honors a man like Kirk is, to put it mildly, mind-boggling.
Faculty Fight Back
Columbia’s faculty members have hardly remained silent in the face of all these capitulations. Many of us, including a large cohort of Jewish professors, have protested, rallied, held vigils, and met with our rapid rotation of presidents, as well as with the school’s trustees, to try to urge academic integrity for our campus and protect our students’ right to debate, question, and protest.
One of the most recent of these faculty actions occurred on September 29, when a group of professors, most of them Jewish, gathered at the sundial in the center of campus to speak out against this adoption of the IHRA’s definition of antisemitism. I joined to watch and listen, while the crowd around them grew.
The speakers explained why the IHRA makes it impossible for them to teach classes on the history of Israel and Palestine, on Islam, or even on Middle Eastern history in general, and leaves any of us who teach anything someone might deem critical of Israel vulnerable to being punished for discriminating against Jews—even if we are Jewish.
One of the speakers, Professor Emeritus Marianne Hirsch, a scholar of trauma and memory, pointed out the real-life dangers in IHRA’s conflation of criticism of Israel with the hatred of all Jews:
This conflation has made [IHRA] the preferred definition of the Israeli state, the Trump administration and authoritarian forces throughout the world who seek to silence those who stand in solidarity with Palestine. The IHRA definition has been cited as the basis for reporting international students, Trump’s travel ban, defunding universities, arresting protesters, and even targeting human rights organizations.
Hirsch then added, “Please note that the incorporation of IHRA was not part of Columbia’s deal with the Trump administration.”
In other words, its incorporation of IHRA was a preemptive concession. Like lowering that flag for Kirk, it was a choice.
Big Brother Is Watching
To top off all these concessions, Columbia made a truly chilling move. Last summer, it agreed to appoint an “independent monitor” to play the Orwellian Big Brother role of watching to make sure that we faculty comply with all of the above rules. The agreement states that this monitor, chosen jointly with the Trump administration, will have access to “all agreement-related individuals, facilities, disciplinary hearings, and the scene of any occurrence that the monitor deems necessary,” as well as “all documents and data related to the agreement.”
The reaction of the American Association of University Professors (AAUP), the closest thing we have to a union, was swift and dramatic. Calling the appointment of this monitor an unprecedented disaster, AAUP issued the following statement:
Allowing the government to monitor and ultimately dictate decisions about the hiring of faculty and admission of students is a stunning breach of the independence of colleges and universities and opens the door for the ideological control this administration so eagerly craves. This is an extremely dangerous precedent that will have tremendous consequences for the sector.
When You Give a Bully What He Wants
In a clear-eyed assessment of what Columbia’s concessions really mean, several authors at the Knight First Amendment Institute at Columbia wrote this last August:
The settlement is an astonishing transfer of autonomy and authority to… an administration whose disdain for the values of the academy is demonstrated anew every day. It will have far-reaching implications for free speech and academic freedom at Columbia.
The authors went on to say in academic jargon what many of us had been saying all along: When you give a bully what he wants, he only demands more. “Indeed,” they concluded, “the settlement itself gives the administration an array of new tools to use in the service of its coercive campaign.”
It makes me wonder what comes next. Flags with Trump’s face on them all over campus? Forced pledges of allegiance to him? After all, Iraq’s dictator Saddam Hussein did it. Why not Donald Trump?
“Afflict the Comfortable and Comfort the Afflicted”
For now, however, we faculty are stuck with Columbia as it is. In my case, this means that I must teach social justice journalism not only under the cloud of the Kirk aftermath, with professors and employees being fired or chased out of the country for daring to criticize that purveyor of hate, but with the IHRA sword of Damocles dangling over my head.
Social justice journalism is essentially about covering the ways in which the powerless are oppressed by the powerful—that is, a manifestation of Joseph Pulitzer’s mantra that journalism should “afflict the comfortable and comfort the afflicted.” This means that just about every topic my students will cover flies in the face of all that the Trump government wants to suppress and might well come up against Columbia’s new rules, too.
What if one of my students should want to cover the deportation hearings for Columbia student Mohsen Mahdawi, for instance? Or a speech by our former student, the once-imprisoned Mahmoud Khalil? Will even a mention of a Palestinian activist be deemed antisemitic now? Will quoting someone who criticizes Kirk or Israeli Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu be grounds for expulsion? Can we report on Planned Parenthood or transphobia, the ICE persecution of brown and Black immigrants, the ongoing climate catastrophe, environmental racism, violence against women, or Islamophobia? Can we talk about social justice at all?
Such students represent the generation that is going to have to claw back capitulations and hold onto integrity in the face of truly hard times.
However, the aspect of teaching that worries me the most is how Columbia’s capitulation will affect my students’ trust in one another. I don’t want anyone to be afraid that someone will snitch on them and get them punished, suspended, expelled, bullied online, deported, or otherwise silenced. I want to foster a culture of camaraderie and trust in my classroom, not suspicion and fear.
But students are afraid. Just a couple of weeks ago, I spoke on a campus panel to a group of young women undergraduates of color, several of whom are international students. They told us that (with reason) they’re afraid to protest, post anything political, or speak out at all. They’re afraid that their visas will be revoked, their degrees and futures whisked away. They’re afraid of being kidnapped from campus and disappeared by ICE.
This makes me worry that my students, too, will censor themselves out of fear, a dangerous scenario indeed. A journalist who is afraid to publish the truth or question power can’t be a journalist at all.
That said, there is nothing like sitting in a classroom full of journalism students to give one hope. It’s uplifting to know that there are still young people out there who want to be reporters, who are dedicated to evidence-based facts, who have compassion for the downtrodden and still see journalism as essential to upholding democracy. Such students represent the generation that is going to have to claw back capitulations and hold onto integrity in the face of truly hard times.
So, yes, the university at large has sold out our students. But the university is not all of us. There are hundreds of faculty on this campus dedicated to the right of our students to learn, debate, protest, research, and report without fear.
The task now is to keep up their courage—and our own fight.
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How to Defeat the Pro-Suffering, Pro-Hunger Policies of Trump's GOP
Food insecurity has long been a feature of Republican politics, not a bug.
Nov 16, 2025
Once upon a time, in what increasingly feels like the fairy tale world of the 1970s, Democrats and Republicans agreed that hunger was immoral. This consensus was embodied by the collaboration to champion the Food Stamp Program between Senate Agriculture Committee leaders and political icons, namely Republican Robert Dole and Democrat George McGovern. They had essentially revived a farm support program launched under FDR during the Great Depression, turning it into a cornerstone of the anti-hunger struggle and eventually an entitlement program, in which anyone who qualified for benefits could receive them regardless of Congressional appropriations.
While America never evolved into a welfare state like many of our European allies, through food stamps and other nutrition programs, we were able to hold the line on the lowest common political denominator: that in the midst of abundance no one should starve. As the poor balanced precariously on the knife edge of poverty, the food stamp program helped to prevent people from falling into the abyss of unfettered capitalism. And it did so not by giving the poor cash to spend as they chose but through vouchers redeemable for food at grocery stores. In the process, the food stamp program also created a powerful ally in the food industry, for which these benefits came to comprise a significant portion of their sales. This partnership became a double-edged sword, protecting the program during times of crisis, while strengthening an industry heavily reliant on worker and environmental exploitation.
By the 1980s, much of the progress made in previous decades was under challenge. Ronald Reagan threw one million people off the food stamp program rolls, reviving the Calvinist trope that the poor were lazy, scamming, and otherwise undeserving of public aid. Globalization led to stagnating wages, faltering labor unions, and disappearing manufacturing jobs. In response, the anti-hunger sector — comprising advocacy organizations, churches, food banks, and other community-based groups — responded predictably to meet the food need through expanding food charity exponentially. In subsequent decades, as the Clinton Administration’s welfare reform legislation arguably further drove the expansion of the charitable sector, the anti-hunger sector also sought to increase benefits and remove barriers to participation in the food stamp program.
However, what the anti-hunger community largely failed to do was to develop an analysis of the underlying causes of the crisis and the long-term alliances to build power. In other words, anti-hunger groups could have mobilized their community to increase wages, facilitate unionizing, or regulations that would limit businesses’ ability to offshore jobs. Instead, they focused on food provisioning and bolstering nutrition assistance programs. And they partnered with corporate America, which donated food and money, served on their boards of directors, and lobbied together. In essence, the anti-hunger community had triangulated, positioning itself as neither on the right nor the left but as a morally-centered and centrist sector.
As a result of their efforts — which were compounded by the desperation of the Great Recession and the Covid-19 crisis — the food stamp program (now known as SNAP or Supplemental Nutrition Assistance program) participation swelled to some 42 million persons. SNAP evolved into a work support program, subsidizing low-wage employment, with over three-quarters of SNAP households having at least one employed adult.
Fast forward to November 2025, when the administration had been fighting tooth and nail not to fund SNAP during the government shutdown. But the conventional wisdom among the media explaining this resistance has been incomplete.
First, the press highlighted the cruel and callous nature of the administration, given that the immorality of hunger amidst abundance no longer motivates policy. The media pointed out MAGA’s belief in a dog-eat-dog world, bifurcated into winners and losers. These beliefs are the “roid rage” version of the Reagan-era meme of the Cadillac-driving welfare queen.
Second, the media called out the administration for using the poor as pawns in the political battle over the government shutdown. They interpreted the administration’s actions to be of a more tactical nature — that is, as leverage to defeat the Democratic Party in the shutdown battle (which was arguably successful).
While both of these observations hold much water, they are missing additional context. Consider the following:
- Trump’s “One Big Beautiful Bill” threatens the integrity of the SNAP program, forcing states to shoulder more of the costs, reducing future potential benefit increases, and tightening exemptions for work restrictions. According to the Food Research and Action Center, these changes will “increase hunger, push more families into deep poverty, and shift costs onto already strained state budgets.”
- The Administration ended $1 billion of food donations to schools and food banks through the termination of the Local Food Purchasing Act.
- USDA cancelled the purchase of $500 million of surplus foods, known as bonus commodities, for food banks. For decades, these commodities had been purchased to stabilize farming sectors and distributed to charitable organizations.
- In the international realm, the elimination of USAID and $128 million of food aid annually will “threaten decades of progress in reversing malnutrition.”
- Last month, the USDA announced it would no longer issue its annual report on the state of food insecurity, despite having done so since 1995. This report has been widely touted by academics as the gold standard in measuring hunger, and has been deployed by numerous other countries.
When viewed together, these actions certainly highlight an administration and political movement devoid of a moral compass on the matter of food insecurity. Yet, if we consider these shifts in conjunction with their other policies — such as ending collective bargaining for federal employee unions, restricting minimum wage in federal contracts and for certain workers, and virtually dismantling the National Labor Relations Board — it becomes evident that Trump’s pro-hunger policies are part and parcel of a decades-long shift in the balance of power to from labor to capital, harking back to at least the 1980s. Profoundly, Trump’s policies reflect a desire to reverse the social gains of the progressive and civil rights movements of the 20th Century.
In economic terms, anti-hunger programs such as SNAP, school meals, or food banking (which only provides one-ninth of the food of the SNAP program) have a complex relationship to wages. When benefits are tied to work requirements, these programs, along with Medicaid, enable businesses to avoid paying fair wages and provide health insurance, bolstering corporate profits. On the other hand, robust social assistance can drive up pressure to increase the minimum wage, as stronger safety nets theoretically keep more people, such as single mothers, out of the labor force (hence the One Big Beautiful Bill’s tightening of work requirements).
So, what’s Trump’s endgame for nutrition programs? He appears to be at odds with much of the American public, which does not buy into the cruelty of driving more people to desperation. Certainly, hunger has become a political football, highlighting his transactional nature. He appears to hold the erroneous but commonly held belief that the recipients of nutrition assistance are people of color, and if they’re not going to vote for him, then why should he help them?
Yet, to understand the deeper threat to this country, we also need to see the patterns behind his polices for what they are: an assault on progressive policies that reduce inequality, all as a means of shifting the balance of power even further towards plutocracy. Trump’s policies are not new; they follow the same neoliberal logic of the past 45 years, which has led to the rise of food banks. What is new is the brazen disregard for the poor, the callousness, and the disregard for the immorality of hunger. The veneer of care has been stripped off, the soft power of food aid trashed in favor of naked political gain.
This pro-hunger, pro-suffering movement will only be defeated when we build a mass movement — one that empowers the anti-hunger community to mobilize its tens of millions of donors and recipients, not to retreat into Bush’s “kinder gentler nation,” but to demand a new America defined by an equitable distribution of wealth.
This story was reprinted with permission from The MIT Press Reader. It was written by Andrew Fisher, the author of “Big Hunger: The Unholy Alliance Between Corporate America and Anti-Hunger Groups.”
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