SUBSCRIBE TO OUR FREE NEWSLETTER
Daily news & progressive opinion—funded by the people, not the corporations—delivered straight to your inbox.
5
#000000
#FFFFFF
To donate by check, phone, or other method, see our More Ways to Give page.
Daily news & progressive opinion—funded by the people, not the corporations—delivered straight to your inbox.
As we look toward Santa Marta, the message is both simple and profound: We cannot solve the climate crisis with the same logic that caused it.
Wars, invasions, blockades, and genocide from Venezuela and Iran to Palestine have ripped the curtain off the inherent volatility and violence of the fossil energy system. We need a rapid and just scale-up of socially controlled renewables to end the era of fossil fuels. But ensuring a just transition requires deeper conversation. Who benefits from the energy transition? Who bears the cost? Who gets a say in how energy is produced? These are also feminist questions about power, labor, care, and whose lives are valued.
To answer them, grassroots leaders, Indigenous communities, trade unions, and environmental justice activists will gather in Santa Marta, Colombia for the Peoples’ Summit and First Conference on Transitioning Away from Fossil Fuels this week. For many of us in environmental and social justice movements, this gathering represents both urgency and possibility. This will be a critical space because, without justice, the energy transition will reproduce the same systems of extraction, control, and violence.
The transition narrative sold by corporations and rich countries today tells us we can scale up corporate, market-led renewable energy technologies without questioning who controls them, who benefits, and who bears the cost. This risks the transition becoming nothing more than the old model in greener packaging. In Malaysia, for example, the energy transition policy largely rebrands the old growth-and-extraction model. It uses green rhetoric, prioritizing corporate-led false solutions like carbon capture and storage and carbon capture, utilization, and storage. Copying Western-style developments through corporate-driven trade and investment patterns sustains fossil fuel dependence and continues to entrench structural inequalities both nationally and internationally. Without systemic change, the transition becomes another chapter in a long history of resource plunder, particularly in the Global South.
Consider the surge in demand for minerals like lithium, cobalt, nickel, and rare earth elements. These are essential components of batteries, solar panels, and wind turbines. Governments and corporations in the Global North are racing to secure these materials, often greenwashing extraction as necessary for climate action, while diverting these minerals into military, aerospace, AI, and data centers. For communities across Latin America, Africa, and Asia, this rush is already translating into land grabs, water depletion, labor exploitation, and violence. Lithium extraction threatens fragile ecosystems and Indigenous Peoples’ livelihoods; cobalt mining has been linked to dangerous working conditions and child labor. As with oil before them, critical minerals are becoming objects of geopolitical competition—backed by military power and strategic control.
If this transition is not rooted in justice, it will not be a solution. It will be the next phase of the crisis.
The military is among the world’s largest consumers of fossil fuels, yet its emissions are routinely excluded from national reporting. At the same time, states and corporations work together to secure control over oil, gas, and critical minerals—profiting from war and devastation from Lebanon to Venezuela and Cuba.
These are the very predictable outcomes of a system that prioritizes profit over energy as a right for people. A just transition must go far beyond emissions reductions. It must actively confront inequality, redistribute power, and wealth, and repair historical and ongoing harms. It must center those who have been marginalized and exploited—not as victims but as leaders.
At the heart of this vision are peoples’ sovereignty and energy sovereignty: the right of communities to control their lands, resources, and energy systems, and to shape the decisions that affect their lives. This means treating energy as a common good that is managed for collective well-being rather than private profit, while building energy democracy, where communities have real decision-making power over how energy is produced and used. It also requires energy sufficiency, prioritizing meeting people’s needs over excessive and wasteful energy use. Together, these principles challenge the concentration of power in corporations and wealthy countries, and point toward energy systems that are locally rooted, democratic, and aligned with social and ecological needs.
Achieving this also requires that we confront imperialism. The current global order allows wealthy countries to externalize the social and environmental costs of their consumption to the Global South, while maintaining control over finance, technology, and trade. This imbalance shapes the terms of the energy transition, devastating communities and often locking countries in the Global South into roles as raw material suppliers rather than equal partners.
Policies that ignore power dynamics may deliver short-term emissions reductions, but they will ultimately fail as communities resist exploitation and inequity deepens. A transition rooted in justice, however, can build the broad-based support needed for transformative change.
Around the world, communities are already practicing energy sovereignty, from managing decentralized renewable systems in Palestine to asserting their rights against extractive projects in Mozambique. Alternatives are not only possible, but underway.
A feminist and just energy transition must challenge the structures that perpetuate dependency and inequality, including unfair trade agreements, debt regimes, and corporate impunity. It must also recognize and address the intersecting forms of oppression based on gender, race, class, and colonial history that shape how the climate crisis is experienced and resisted.
As we look toward Santa Marta, the message is both simple and profound: We cannot solve the climate crisis with the same logic that caused it. If this transition is not rooted in justice, it will not be a solution. It will be the next phase of the crisis.
The path forward will require confronting entrenched interests and reimagining our economies and societies. From Santa Marta and beyond, communities are showing us the way. The task now is to listen, to act, and to ensure that the transition ahead is truly just—for people, for the planet, and for future generations.
The failure of talks in Pakistan does not simply close a diplomatic episode. It clarifies the limits of what current diplomacy can realistically achieve.
The breakdown of recent US–Iran contacts in Pakistan does not represent an isolated diplomatic setback. It reflects something more structural: a relationship that is no longer moving toward resolution but instead stabilizing into a long-term cycle of managed confrontation.
In this emerging pattern, diplomacy has not disappeared, but its function has changed. It is no longer a pathway toward agreement; it has become part of the mechanism through which escalation is contained, calibrated, and periodically reset—without addressing the underlying conflict.
Recent signals that indirect contacts may still be continuing are not evidence of progress. Rather, they confirm the new logic of the relationship: diplomacy and coercion now operate in parallel. Negotiations persist, but without a shared framework, agreed end state, or credible roadmap toward settlement.
Diplomacy without resolution
Over the past several years, US-Iran engagement has increasingly shifted away from structured bargaining toward fragmented, episodic communication. The assumption that talks naturally lead toward de-escalation no longer holds.
Instead, both sides now use diplomacy tactically. It serves to manage risk, test boundaries, and signal restraint—while broader strategic competition continues uninterrupted.
This produces a paradox: dialogue continues, but trust erodes; engagement persists, but outcomes remain absent; communication expands, but political distance grows.
The breakdown of expectations following recent regional escalation and fragile ceasefire dynamics underscores this shift. The relationship is no longer oriented toward solving problems, but toward preventing them from spiraling out of control.
A fundamental strategic mismatch
At the core of this stalemate is not a failure of communication, but a deeper mismatch in strategic logic. The United States continues to approach diplomacy as an extension of pressure. Sanctions, military signaling, and containment strategies are intended to extract concessions on nuclear activity, regional influence, and security behavior. Iran, meanwhile, treats negotiations as a test of endurance and strategic recognition. It seeks economic relief and political acknowledgment of its regional position without fundamentally altering its core security doctrine.
These positions are not complementary. They are structurally incompatible. One side seeks behavioral change through pressure; the other seeks survival and recognition under pressure. As a result, negotiations do not converge toward compromise. They remain trapped within a constrained space of managed disagreement.
A region adapting to permanent instability
This dynamic is not confined to Washington and Tehran. It is reshaping the wider regional environment.
Pakistan’s role as a venue for indirect contacts highlights the growing importance of intermediary states attempting to contain escalation, even when their influence over outcomes is limited.
Turkey continues to balance mediation with strategic autonomy, engaging multiple actors while avoiding fixed alignment.
Russia benefits from prolonged US-Iran tensions, which divert Western attention and reinforce Moscow’s positioning as a partner for Tehran.
China prioritizes energy security and stability. It seeks to prevent open conflict but remains reluctant to assume a direct security role in the Gulf.
The combined effect is a fragmented regional order in which external actors are not neutral observers, but participants in managing—and at times exploiting—persistent instability.
Iran under layered pressure
Iran’s current strategic environment is shaped by three overlapping pressures: military, economic, and domestic.
Militarily, the likelihood of full-scale war remains relatively low. More plausible is a pattern of calibrated escalation—limited strikes, maritime tensions, cyber operations, and proxy activity.
Any sustained attempt to restrict Iranian-linked activity near critical maritime routes such as the Strait of Hormuz would mark a qualitative shift toward structural escalation, increasing long-term regional risk.
Iran, in turn, is unlikely to respond symmetrically. Its strategy relies on asymmetric tools: disruption of shipping, cyber capabilities, and the activation of regional networks. This produces a form of conflict that is continuous, dispersed, and difficult to resolve decisively.
Economically, the breakdown of talks reinforces Iran’s continued exclusion from the global financial system. Over time, sanctions have not only constrained Iran’s economy—they have reshaped it. Parallel trade networks, non-Western partnerships—particularly with Russia and China—and informal mechanisms have become structural features rather than temporary workarounds.
This reduces incentives for rapid compromise and increases the cost of reintegration into Western-led systems.
Domestically, sustained external pressure interacts with existing internal challenges. While external confrontation can temporarily reinforce political cohesion, it also intensifies long-term tensions between state capacity, economic performance, and public expectations.
The result is not collapse, but persistent strain.
The logic of strategic endurance
Taken together, these dynamics point toward a strategy best described as strategic endurance.
Iran’s likely trajectory is not decisive breakthrough or breakdown, but sustained resistance under pressure—preserving core capabilities, maintaining regional leverage, and keeping limited diplomatic channels open without major concessions.
This is not a strategy designed to resolve the conflict. It is a strategy designed to survive it.
The narrowing policy horizon in Washington
For the United States, the collapse of diplomatic momentum reinforces an increasingly familiar policy response: expanded sanctions, renewed military signaling, and limited tactical strikes against proxy-linked targets.
But the effectiveness of this approach is diminishing. Pressure without a credible political horizon tends to produce adaptation rather than compliance. It hardens positions, deepens fragmentation, and reduces the likelihood of negotiated outcomes over time.
What remains is a narrowing strategic space in which policy tools are still available, but less capable of producing meaningful change.
A durable cycle of confrontation
The most likely near-term trajectory is neither war nor resolution, but a prolonged cycle of managed confrontation.
This cycle will be characterized by intermittent escalation, partial and indirect diplomacy, and growing involvement of external actors attempting to prevent wider spillover.
Such an equilibrium may appear stable in the short term. Its danger lies in its durability. Conflicts that become structurally managed rather than resolved tend not to end through negotiation, but through accumulated crises that eventually exceed the system’s capacity to contain them.
The failure of talks in Pakistan does not simply close a diplomatic episode. It clarifies the limits of what current diplomacy can realistically achieve.
Unless the underlying strategic mismatch is addressed, US-Iran relations are likely to remain trapped in a pattern where escalation is managed, but resolution is continually deferred—at increasing cost to regional stability and global security.
How long must the US war on Iran go on, and how badly must the US be defeated, before it will agree to a permanent peace?
The US government under Donald Trump has twice used disingenuous negotiations with Iran to provide cover for attacking it, in June 2025 and again before launching the current war in February. Now it is trying to do so for a third time.
On April 8, the US and Iran began a two week ceasefire, after Trump accepted a 10-point peace plan drawn up by Iran as “a workable basis on which to negotiate.” But Vice President Vance and US negotiators rejected Iran’s plan out of hand at talks in Pakistan on April 11, and instead demanded that Iran must give up its right as a member of the Nuclear Non-Proliferation Treaty (or NPT) to enrich uranium for civilian purposes. The talks ended with no agreement.
As the end of the ceasefire on April 22 drew near, Trump claimed that Iran had agreed to US demands on enriched uranium and other matters. But Iran announced to the world on April 18 that it had not agreed to any of the terms Trump claimed, and that his lies and threats provided no basis for further negotiations. Iran then responded to US and Israeli ceasefire violations by once again closing the Strait of Hormuz to all vessels linked to hostile countries.
In other words, Iran called Trump’s bluff, holding the US to the terms of the two-week ceasefire. But Trump didn’t give up on his false claims, and instead insisted that Iran had agreed to another round of talks in Pakistan on April 21st, which Iran immediately denied.
The reversal in US policy that it would take to resolve this crisis would not be unprecedented.
As the April 22 deadline approaches with no agreement, many analysts now expect the end of the ceasefire to be followed, within hours or days, by a US escalation of the war and a proportionate military response from Iran, with no clear off-ramp from further escalation.
But this could be averted by a belated but genuine US reappraisal of its position, based on Iran’s ten point proposal that Trump accepted as “a workable basis on which to negotiate.”
If the United States government really wants an exit strategy from this self-imposed, ever-escalating war, it should take a fresh look at Iran’s ten point peace plan, and seriously consider how it can engage with this framework to turn over a new leaf in its relations with Iran and the region.
These are the ten points, as reported by Gulf News:
Since the United States has failed to use the two-week ceasefire to negotiate on this “workable basis,” it will be up to Iran to decide whether to agree to extend the ceasefire so that the US and Iran can finally start real negotiations.
This would require the US to begin acting in good faith, an inherently tall order, to convince Iran that it would not just use an extension of the ceasefire to prepare an even more deadly and catastrophic attack. It should immediately lift its naval blockade of Iran, stop transporting more armed forces into the region, and do whatever it takes to end Israel’s ceasefire violations in Lebanon and Palestine, including by halting the transfer of weapons that Israel uses to violate those ceasefires, as US law requires.
Without such confidence-building measures, it is hard to see why Iran would agree to an extension of the ceasefire. As Professor Mostafa Khoshcheshm in Tehran explained to Al Jazeera, Trump’s lies convinced Tehran it would not find “a trustworthy partner for any kind of deal,” and, as long as the US acts this way, “Iran will continue the war.”
“Iran believes it has the upper hand and that this must be established in any future confrontation,” he said, noting that millions of people are still taking to the streets in Iran every night to call for continued resistance.
Maybe the most vital of Iran’s ten points is the first one listed above: a guarantee that Iran will not be attacked again, either by the United States or Israel. Trump’s war crimes, his undermining of US credibility and his connivance at Israel’s ceasefire violations make such a guarantee elusive, although it is only what international law requires of all countries, that they resolve their disputes peacefully and refrain from threatening or using military force against each other.
What form of guarantee could Iran possibly accept from a country that systematically violates treaties and agreements? Engaging in good faith negotiations over the rest of Iran’s 10-point agenda, especially the lifting of US sanctions, while also moving to restore diplomatic relations, might be good first steps.
The reversal in US policy that it would take to resolve this crisis would not be unprecedented. Vietnam, Iraq, and Afghanistan all forced US forces to withdraw from their countries. But those were much longer wars, involving many years of US occupation that went on until popular resistance movements made continued occupation untenable.
How long must the US war on Iran go on, and how badly must the US be defeated, before it will agree to a permanent peace? This crisis can be as long or as short, and as bloody or bloodless, as US leaders choose, and as the American people will tolerate.
The lifting of illegal US sanctions against Iran (#4 on the list) would be a vital part of any solution to this crisis. This would surely be good for both countries, and the United States would be less likely to attack Iran again if the US and Iran have reestablished mutually profitable trade relations.
Ending Israel’s attacks on Iran’s allies (#3), and a broader framework to end regional hostilities (#10) are both steps that most Americans would support. The failure of the US-Israeli war on Iran could be the desperately needed catalyst for the US to transform a US-Israeli military alliance that is committing genocide in Palestine and aggression throughout the region into a new and different relationship bounded by the rules of international law.
A US military withdrawal from its bases around the Persian Gulf could prevent the countries that host them from again becoming targets in US-Israeli wars on Iran, so it is interesting that Iran doesn’t mention them in its ten points. Perhaps Iran sees the value of these US bases as vulnerable targets in this and future wars as outweighing any threat they might pose, but that would be one more reason for the United States to withdraw from them before they cost more American lives.
There is a simple way to avoid one of the most destructive elements in recent failed negotiations with Iran, and that would be to remove Steve Witkoff and Jared Kushner from the US negotiating team.
The other five items in the ten-point agenda are all related to the Strait of Hormuz. The strait is within Iran’s and Oman’s territorial waters, although charging ships to pass through it is unprecedented and legally questionable. It is really the US and Israel that should pay reparations to Iran for the death and destruction they have wreaked, not the owners of international merchant ships. But if the US will not agree to pay reparations, Iran’s tollbooths may be a compromise that all sides can live with in order to reopen the strait, as Iran itself calls for in item # 5.
There is a simple way to avoid one of the most destructive elements in recent failed negotiations with Iran, and that would be to remove Steve Witkoff and Jared Kushner from the US negotiating team. Discussing prior negotiations, a diplomat from one of the Gulf countries told The Guardian, “We regarded Witkoff and Kushner as Israeli assets that dragged a president into a war he wants to get out of.”
Given Witkoff and Kushner’s foreign loyalties, Trump’s lies and corruption, Rubio’s subservience to Israel, and Hegseth’s bloodlust, the United States can surely find more professional officials to represent it in these difficult negotiations, which have only been made more difficult by the flood of threats, lies and deception from the US side.But since the United States has not really tried to make peace wit Iran since abandoning the JCPOA in 2018, a new team of qualified, experienced US diplomats charged with turning over a new leaf in US-Iran relations could start with a clean slate, and they would have the support of the whole world behind their efforts to resolve this global crisis.
At such a moment in history, a movement that connects the dots between our many struggles is certainly the way forward. The plight of refugees—and how we treat them as a society—is a story that connects us all.
In late March, I sat in the gallery of the Supreme Court for the first time in my life. Throughout my 30 years of grassroots anti-poverty work, I’ve joined countless protests and vigils outside the Court. In 2018, I was even arrested and held in detention for praying on its palatial steps. Now, I was seated with a clear view of the nine justices of the nation’s highest court. I was there as a guest of immigrant rights lawyers, as their team made oral arguments in Noem v. Al Otro Lado, the most significant case on the right to asylum in decades.
In February, the Kairos Center (the organization I direct) authored an interfaith amicus brief on that very case, alongside 31 denominations and organizations representing faith traditions practiced by billions worldwide. Those groups, including the Alliance of Baptists, the Council on American-Islamic Relations, the Episcopal Church, the Evangelical Lutheran Church in America, Hindus for Human Rights, the Latino Christian National Network, the Presbyterian Church (U.S.A.), Reconstructing Judaism, the Union for Reform Judaism, the Unitarian Universalist Association, the General Synod of the United Church of Christ, and the General Board of Church and Society of the United Methodist Church, joined together to declare that our societal obligation to provide for persecuted outsiders is a universally shared moral principle.
Although the case has largely flown under the public radar, there is indeed a lot at stake. Filed on behalf of asylum seekers, Noem v. Al Otro Lado focuses on the legality of a 2018 Trump border policy blocking access to the U.S. asylum process for people arriving at the border with Mexico. Immigrant rights advocates argue that such a turnback policy, under which immigration officers physically stop people seeking safety at official border crossings from setting foot on U.S. soil, flouts decades of settled federal immigration law and our society’s most deeply held legal and moral values.
For more than a century, the government has been required to undertake a legal process of inspection when people seek asylum at official ports of entry along the U.S.-Mexico border (as they must inspect all noncitizens seeking admission to the United States). That requirement is supposed to ensure that this country doesn’t send vulnerable people back into danger without first allowing them to seek protection. A wide range of immigration lawyers and legal experts argue that the first Trump administration’s turnback policy, euphemistically called “metering,” directly undermined the government’s responsibility to process such asylum claims. As a result, vulnerable children, families, and adults were regularly forced to remain indefinitely stranded in perilous conditions in Mexico.
Although the turnback policy has not been in effect since 2021, when the Ninth Circuit Court of Appeals declared it unlawful, the Trump administration has asked the Supreme Court to review the case. Should the government win (which is all too possible given the hyperpartisan nature of the current Court), the consequences are sure to be grave and far-reaching. The Department of Homeland Security would have the legal backing to turn away untold thousands of desperate people at the border, potentially clearing the way for even more expansive border closures, while further intensifying the jingoistic nationalism that defines the Trump administration. Alongside other landmark cases this term, like Trump v. Barboza, in which the government seeks to undo the constitutional right to birthright citizenship, the results of Noem v. Al Otro Lado are likely to reveal the lengths to which the Supreme Court is willing to backstop the president’s assault on democracy, including accelerated attacks on the rights of vulnerable populations.
The day I was there, the existential stakes of that case and the larger societal crisis in which it was unfolding did not seem to concern the court’s conservative justices. I had the words of George Washington (written in 1788 to the radical Dutch republican Francis Van der Kemp) in my mind as I sat in the gallery: “I had always hoped that this land might become a safe & agreeable asylum to the virtuous & persecuted part of mankind, to whatever nation they might belong.”
Unfortunately, having heard the statements and reactions of some of the judges, I fear that the majority of the Supreme Court may no longer agree with that foundational vision for this country.
Courtroom Friezes and Draconian Law
The first thing that struck me on entering the Supreme Court gallery were the stone friezes on the walls of the room. Designed by Adolf Weinman more than a century ago, those large marble reliefs, featuring what he called the “great lawgivers of history,” tower over the space. Among them are prominent religious figures like Moses (holding a scroll of the Ten Commandments), King Solomon, Confucius, and a rendition of the Prophet Muhammad (that is entirely unrecognizable). The friezes also include Roman Emperor Octavian (otherwise known as Caesar Augustus, Jesus’s great nemesis), French King Louis IX (leader of the seventh and eighth crusades), and Draco (a Greek jurist whose legacy lurks in the word “draconian” because of the extreme measures he took to punish minor offenses).
As I stared at those figures, I reflected on the message they convey about the complex civilizational lineages from which the Supreme Court and our legal system derive their authority. In our amicus brief, we reflected on those varied lineages as they pertain to the right to seek asylum:
“Our asylum laws are the modern embodiment of a deeply rooted religious, cultural, and historical heritage that has consistently affirmed society’s obligation to provide refuge for those seeking safety. Asylum reaches back to some of the earliest moments of recorded human history. It was practiced throughout the ancient civilizations that forged the foundation of Western society. This tradition can also be found in the form of church sanctuary asylum, a mainstay of European culture for over a millennium.
“Our very nation began as a haven for persecuted political and religious minorities. This tradition is present throughout our history, from the practices of Native Americans to the Underground Railroad to modern times. Congress adopted our current asylum laws in significant part due to the efforts of faith-based groups seeking to uphold deeply held societal, moral, and cultural principles.”
Despite such deeply held and ancient principles, I couldn’t shake a sense of impending doom as I scanned the faces on the friezes and those of the justices. I thought of the awesome and awful power of Rome, depicted throughout the gallery, and its draconian reign of “peace” (or what Secretary of War Pete Hegseth recently termed “delivering peace through strength”). And I recalled the worsening anti-democratic and pro-oligarchic turn our own Supreme Court has taken in the Trump era.
Just consider the rulings from the past few years: the Court has essentially given immunity to the executive branch (although the Court is supposed to be a critical part of a federal system of checks and balances), criminalized homelessness (although the U.S. claims to be a nation of opportunity and prosperity for all), and degraded voting rights (cutting off the legs of our democracy).
Before oral arguments began in Noem v. Al Otro Lado, I was under no illusion that the Supreme Court delivers equality, freedom, and justice for all. And yet, on an issue as basic and legally sound as the right to seek asylum, I was still shocked by the flippancy of the court’s conservative judges. For hours, they rocked in their chairs, physically broadcasting their disinterest in the case. Rather than take seriously more than 100 years of legal precedent and hundreds more of long-established societal practice, they seemed to enjoy getting into hyper-specific and cherrypicked semantic and rhetorical arguments with Kelsi Brown Cochran, our lawyer.
In preparation for that day, I had brushed up on the history of U.S. asylum law. An important story in that history is the S.S. St. Louis, a ship that in 1939 was carrying 930 refugees from Hamburg, Germany, fleeing the Nazi regime, who were first denied entry to Cuba and then to the United States, only to be returned to Europe, where many of them were taken to the Nazi death camps.
Reflecting on that story at a pre-hearing press conference, Nicole Elizabeth Ramos, border rights project director at Al Otro Lado, a plaintiff in the case, offered this explanation:
“The right to seek asylum is not a policy preference or a loophole — it is a legal right and a moral commitment forged in the aftermath of the Holocaust. Seeking asylum is not like taking a number at a deli counter and waiting for your turn. You cannot ask someone fleeing rape, torture, or death threats to wait in danger indefinitely because a government has decided their lives are inconvenient. We filed this case because the United States has an obligation to follow its own laws — laws duly enacted by Congress. The question before the Court is whether those laws can be set aside by executive action, or whether they remain binding at the border, as written.”
In their apparent willingness to flout precedent and condemn modern-day asylees to harm or even death, the conservative justices unselfconsciously aligned themselves with American nativism and European fascism of the 1930s. If, in their final decision, they uphold Trump’s turnback policy, they will be affirming that, were the S.S. St Louis to sail again today, the ship would still be denied entry and its passengers asylum.
The Moral Crisis Is Not “Border Surges” But the Closing of the Border
The morning of those oral arguments, the Kairos Center and other faith organizations held an interfaith prayer vigil on the steps of the Supreme Court to call attention to the case. Reverend Michael Neuroth, director of the United Church of Christ’s Washington D.C. office, put the matter vividly: “Welcoming and protecting the stranger is not a minor tenet of our faith but is a foundational moral obligation in each of our traditions. Dismantling the right to asylum is morally wrong, strategically short-sighted, and increases insecurity here in our nation. We must be a nation of compassion, a place of refuge to those in need.”
The vigil was organized in the heart of the “holy season” amid Ramadan, Passover, and Easter. As billions of people globally engage in rituals of remembrance, repentance, deliverance, and liberation, our prayers and petitions focused not only on the legal precedent for the right to seek asylum, but on the moral imperative to do so. For Christians, protecting and welcoming the immigrant is one of Jesus’s first and most powerful teachings. It’s also among the highest moral commands of the Torah. As the prophet Jeremiah reminds us, “Do no wrong to the foreigner and do not shed innocent blood.” Asylum and societal hospitality are well-recognized rights within Islamic law and theology, a fundamental Hindu and Buddhist tenet, and part of Native American spiritual teachings.
In our interfaith amicus brief, we wrote: “As the many faiths practiced by this country’s citizens teach, a society that does not protect the least among us is a failed society.” As faith leaders, we had in mind not only the right to seek asylum, but the many ways the Trump administration has deepened and intensified a moral crisis at the heart of our society. We were thinking about the ongoing attacks on immigrant communities — from ICE-led campaigns of terror to family and child detention in places like Dilley, Texas. There was also the stripping of life-saving healthcare and food support from millions of Americans through cuts to Medicaid and the Supplemental Nutrition Assistance Program (SNAP); the criminalization and forced deprivation of LGBTQ+ people; and the prosecution of anillegal war that threatens the lives of so many in Iran and the broader region, as well as the livelihoods of billions of us across this globe.
In Noem v. Al Otro Lado, the Trump administration is attempting to mask its cruelty and despotism through banal legal arguments. By focusing semantically on when protections start for asylum seekers and debating the meaning of the term “arrives in” (as in this country, of course), its lawyers were ignoring the illegality and immorality of border agents blocking asylum seekers from crossing the U.S.-Mexican border and the larger question of whether the United States can any longer be a place of safety and protection for all families “yearning to be free” of violence and persecution.
The government is, of course, hoping that we don’t make the connections between the stripping away of asylum rights, the larger issue of immigrant rights, and the many other ways that it’s targeting “the least among us.” That’s a mistake we can’t make and where the teachings of our many faith traditions have encouragement to offer. In Buddhism, Christianity, Hinduism, Islam, Judaism, and more, love, justice, and peace are not parceled out only for certain people in certain places. Across our religions, all life is sacred, full stop!
No Turning Back for Anyone
Intermixed with the important lawgivers of history in that marble frieze in the Supreme Court gallery are engraved winged personifications of “Peace,” “The Rights of Man,” “History,” “Authority,” “Fame,” and more. Those winged characters form what looked to me like a Greco-Roman “choir of angels,” proclaiming “law and order” at the expense of rights and dignity for us all.
Sitting there, I reflected on just who was not in that room listening to those arguments or forcing the Supreme Court justices to face the very lives impacted by their decision. I thought about all those who will never have access to that courtroom, or justice of any sort for that matter, the millions of people struggling to fight for their communities and a future where everybody is in and nobody is out.
Those people are — or at least should be — our hope. They are the true “choir of angels” who came out for the recent No Kings Day demonstrations and are standing up for the rights and dignity of communities all over the country. They are also the people who are increasingly giving Donald Trump historically low approval ratings. And here’s the truth of these times: this administration has nothing to offer everyday people, other than hardened borders and wars that nobody wants.
At such a moment in history, a movement that connects the dots between our many struggles is certainly the way forward. Therefore, it seems fitting that the coalition that came together to fight this case and protect the rights of asylum seekers calls itself “No Turning Back.” It reminds me of a song by Emma’s Revolution that I’ve sung many times at protests and gatherings. Its key lines are a reminder of what we all need to keep in mind in this deeply disturbing Trumpian moment of ours:
“Gonna keep on moving forward
Keep on moving forward
Keep on moving forward
Never turning back
Never turning back”
Because indeed, there can be no turning back for any of us. Either we get there together or we never get there at all.