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Delaware is home to more corporations than people. Human people, that is, as under longstanding state law and the US Supreme Court's infamous 2010 ruling, corporations are people, too.
A judge in Delaware—a state with more registered business entities than people—ruled Monday in favor of a small town that allows corporations to vote in local elections.
Delaware Superior Court Judge Craig Karsnitz ruled that the town of Fenwick Island, population 400, did not violate the state Constitution by permitting business entities—which make up 12% of the town's "population"—to vote in municipal elections, as case plaintiff the ACLU of Delaware had claimed.
"What is a 'person?' When one cuts to the heart of this case, that is the question," Karsnitz wrote to open his 20-page ruling.
‼️‼️Delaware Superior Court upholds a municipal ordinance allowing individuals to cast votes on behalf of LLCs, trusts, and corporations in local elections against a challenge that the ordinance constitutes unlawful vote dilution for real persons under the state constitution. aboutblaw.com/blQg
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— Anthony Michael Kreis (@anthonymkreis.bsky.social) May 27, 2026 at 1:46 PM
"According to the law, a person is anyone or anything that can initiate and be subject to legal proceedings. By this conception, any adult, corporation, or institution is a person, but a minor is not a person, a fetus is not a person, and a humanoid robot... is not a person," the ruling continues. "This highlights that legal personhood is dependent solely on legal recognition."
The judge noted that in 2008, the Delaware General Assembly amended Fenwick Island's charter "to expand its voter registration rolls to allow individuals to cast votes on behalf of trusts, limited liability companies, partnerships, and corporations that own property in Fenwick."
"Today, the overwhelming majority of legal entity property owners in Fenwick registered to vote, and on whose behalf votes are cast, are trusts," Karsnitz added.
"I appreciate that Plaintiff may disagree with Delaware’s policy of authorizing certain municipalities to allow voting on behalf of entity property owners," the judge wrote.
"Visions of faceless large corporations, or even HAL, controlling a small town are frightening and the stuff of science fiction," he continued," referring to the malevolent artificial intelligence-powered computer in Stanley Kubrick's 1968 film version of Arthur C. Clarke's 2001: A Space Odyssey. "However, Plaintiff has not demonstrated that this policy violates the principle of one person/entity/one vote."
"Plaintiff points to no other persuasive independent authority than the Elections Clause of the Delaware Constitution itself," Karsnitz concluded. "And matters of policy are appropriately left to legislative bodies, not the courts."
Fenwick Island Mayor Natalie Magdeburger told Reuters earlier this year that "a property owner who pays taxes and is subject to our ordinances should have a say in who represents them on our Town Council."
Meanwhile, the ACLU of Delaware contends that "with over 2 million business entities incorporated in Delaware–roughly double the amount of actual people living in the state–the people of Delaware risk having their voices drowned out when towns like Fenwick Island allow corporate voting."
Karsnitz's ruling does not mention Citizens United v. Federal Election Commission, the 2010 US Supreme Court decision affirming that political spending by corporations, nonprofit organizations, labor unions, and other groups is a form of free speech protected by the 1st Amendment that government cannot restrict. The decision ushered in the era of super PACs—which can raise unlimited amounts of money to spend on campaigns—and secret spending on elections with so-called “dark money.”
While Delaware's corporate personhood laws long predate Citizens United, numerous critics of Monday's ruling referred to the case, including the progressive legal advocacy group Demand Justice.
"Corporations aren't people," the group asserted on X. "They don't have kids in local schools, they don't drink the water, they can’t be jailed for crimes, and they shouldn't get a vote."
Some compared Hawaii, where Democratic Gov. Josh Green recently signed legislation clarifying that corporations are not people, with Delaware.
"Hawaii made a move to rein in Citizens United," writer Van Dennis posted on X, "and Delaware responded, "The fuck you are."
Nearly 70% of the grain grown in this country—corn, soy, wheat, and barley—never feeds a single human being. Instead, it’s fed to pigs, chickens, and cows packed into industrial animal factories.
As Americans gather around the table this Thanksgiving to show our gratitude and feast in abundance, we should ask ourselves a simple but uncomfortable question: Who—and what—are we really feeding in the US?
In the United States, the answer isn’t “people.” It’s corporate, industrial factory farms.
Nearly 70% of the grain grown in this country—corn, soy, wheat, and barley—never feeds a single human being. Instead, it’s fed to pigs, chickens, and cows packed into industrial animal factories. Only about one-quarter of US crops are eaten directly by people. That staggering imbalance makes factory farming the single biggest cause of food waste in America—a system that burns through farmland, water, and fossil fuels to produce less food, not more.
When we feed edible crops to animals, we lose up to 90% of their calories and protein before they ever reach a plate. For every 100 calories of animal feed fed into factory farm production, we get back only about 12 calories in meat or dairy. Meanwhile, 44 million Americans face food insecurity, and approximately 1 in 5 children in the US—nearly 14 million kids—are living with hunger.
By reducing the number of animals raised for food and shifting subsidies toward healthy, plant-based foods, we can create a food system that actually feeds people and supports family farmers instead of corporations.
It doesn’t have to be this way.
The US government spends billions every year to prop up this wasteful system. Federal farm subsidies overwhelmingly flow to the corporations that grow feed for factory farms—corn and soy for industrial livestock—while fruits, vegetables, and legumes that could actually nourish people receive a fraction of that support.
In other words, your taxpayer dollars are funding food waste. We’re subsidizing the destruction of the environment, the suffering of animals, and the consolidation of rural America under corporate control.
This isn’t just an agricultural policy failure. It’s a moral one.
Feeding food to factory farms doesn’t feed the nation—it feeds the climate crisis. Industrial livestock is one of the largest sources of greenhouse gases. The endless demand for feed crops drives soil depletion, fertilizer runoff, and water contamination across the Midwest, while fueling deforestation abroad for imported soy.
If we redirected even a fraction of those feed crops toward food crops, we could feed millions more Americans, free up farmland for restoration, and dramatically cut emissions. That’s what real climate-smart agriculture looks like—not doubling down on a broken system driving us toward extinction.
Thanksgiving is supposed to be about gratitude and generosity. But genuine gratitude means stewardship—using resources wisely, sharing abundance fairly, and respecting the lives, human and animal alike, that make our meals possible. There’s nothing thankful about wasting food and warming the planet to keep factory farms afloat.
We can choose a better way forward.
By reducing the number of animals raised for food and shifting subsidies toward healthy, plant-based foods, we can create a food system that actually feeds people and supports family farmers instead of corporations. Imagine if American agriculture rewarded farmers for growing beans, grains, fruits, and vegetables that nourish families, not for producing endless corn and soy to sustain industrial meat factories.
This Thanksgiving, let’s make gratitude mean something again. Because abundance isn’t about how much we produce—it’s about how wisely and compassionately we use what we have.
If we want a food system that truly feeds people, strengthens rural communities, and honors the spirit of Thanksgiving, the first step is simple: Stop feeding our food to factory farms.
Large companies like BP have taught us to track what we buy, and take responsibility for what we do with the stuff we buy, so that they won’t have to stop making and selling the stuff we buy from them or deal with laws regulating how they do it.
This article has been adapted from Somebody Should Do Something: How Anyone Can Help Create Social Change (The MIT Press, September 16, 2025) by Michael Brownstein, Alex Madva, and Daniel Kelly. It is taken from Chapter 1: “You Do You: The Misdirected Individualist History of Climate Activism,” and is provided courtesy of the publisher.
The more recent notion of everyone having a “personal carbon footprint” has similar roots in the dark arts of corporate PR. The oil giant BP popularized the term and bent it to its own purposes.
BP worked from the same playbook as the Ad Council. After acknowledging that climate change exists, the company makes you feel responsible for it. And then they give you something to do that helps you feel like you're part of the solution. Meanwhile, BP continues pumping away, enjoying massive federal subsidies and outlandish profits while avoiding any new, restrictive regulations.
The strategy was popular. One analysis of decades of ExxonMobil’s public communications found that the corporation framed climate change in terms of consumer energy demand when speaking publicly. But in internal company documents, ExxonMobil recognized that it could not continue to supply fossil fuels without disastrous consequences to the environment. They knew they were causing the problem (supply) but put the blame on us (consumer demand).
The general template should sound familiar. What causes climate change? We do. How? Driving gas guzzlers, leaving on the lights, and buying unrecyclable plastic. What’s the solution? Stop doing these things. Consume better.
ExxonMobil even conducted its own secret research on climate change in the 1970s. The results were consistent with scientific predictions. The corporation's in-house models predicted that global temperatures would rise to within 0.2°C of what they have in fact risen to since. While it publicly claimed in 1997 that “some of today’s prophets of doom from global warming were predicting the coming of a new ice age,” in the 1970s, Exxon’s own scientists had privately been in agreement all along with the overwhelming majority of published science on climate forecasting.
Once you know what to look for, you start to see the message of personal responsibility everywhere. Worried about retirement? Start saving more. Have a gambling problem? Exercise some willpower and stay away from the casino. Worried about obesity? Fix your lifestyle. From 2008 to 2010, 87 percent of all alcohol ads in magazines told consumers to “drink responsibly.”
While it was becoming clearer that Americans consume too much sugar, Coca-Cola fought back by subsidizing research arguing that the problem was not calories in but calories out: “Americans are overly fixated on how much they eat and drink while not paying enough attention to exercise.” The central plank of the food industry’s lobbying has been to frame discussions about eating habits in terms of personal responsibility (e.g., “portion control”).
What these messages minimize are all the social, structural, and systemic drivers of health problems like diabetes. In one New York Times article, Dr.Dean Schillinger explained how “our entire society is perfectly designed to create Type 2 diabetes.” There is no amount of scolding about sugary foods and exercise, he explains, and “no device, no drug powerful enough to counter the effects of poverty, pollution, stress, a broken food system, cities that are hard to navigate on foot, and inequitable access to healthcare, particularly in minority communities.”
Yet these companies have devoted enormous amounts of money to teaching the public to focus on the symptoms rather than the underlying system. They have taught us to track what we buy, and take responsibility for what we do with the stuff we buy, so that they won’t have to stop making and selling the stuff we buy from them or deal with laws regulating how they do it.
Whole social movements have been built around this individualist, little-things-add-up ethos. An iconic poster from the early days of the modern environmental movement mirrors the Ad Council’s claim that personal choices are both the cause of and the solution to pollution. This individualist thinking prevailed all the way from the 1970s environmental movement to May 2006, which marks one of the biggest box office events in documentary history: the release of Al Gore’s An Inconvenient Truth. The documentary reached millions of people around the world. Its vivid depictions of solar rays pelting the atmosphere and glaciers melting raised public awareness of climate change to new heights and ignited collective fervor about the environment like never before. It demanded action.
Widely and deservedly lauded, An Inconvenient Truth presented the facts in a way that was hard to argue with. It also presented solutions:
Each one of us is a cause of global warming, but each one of us can make choices to change that with the things we buy, the electricity we use, the cars we drive; we can make choices to bring our individual carbon emissions to zero. The solutions are in our hands, we just have to have the determination to make it happen. We have everything that we need to reduce carbon emissions, everything but political will. But in America, the will to act is a renewable resource.
The general template should sound familiar. What causes climate change? We do. How? Driving gas guzzlers, leaving on the lights, and buying unrecyclable plastic. What’s the solution? Stop doing these things. Consume better. This is another effect of the long history of corporate-funded individualist messaging: the first thing that comes to mind for many of us when we ask “what can I do?” is a series of thoughts about stuff. What should I buy? Where should I buy it from? What should I do with it? Even leaders in the fight against climate change have perpetuated our preoccupation with consumption.
As the credits of An Inconvenient Truth roll, the film offers concrete suggestions for how to make a difference, stating, “The climate crisis can be solved. Here’s how to start.” Here are the first five items in the list:
These are good things to do, though energy-inefficient incandescent bulbs are basically illegal now and hybrid cars may be on their way to being old news. But An Inconvenient Truth exemplifies a whole world of books, TV, and academic research that looks at climate change through the lens of our personal consumer choices. Even academics have gotten in on the act. One widely cited study examined and ranked nearly 150 personal lifestyle choices by their effectiveness in reducing personal carbon footprints. The four most impactful options, it found, are having one child, living car-free, flying less, and eating a plant-based diet. Eventually, further down the list of action items, An Inconvenient Truth also tells viewers to do the following:
These suggestions head in a different direction, away from what we buy. They gesture toward our political choices and our communities’ values. This is promising, and we’ll talk a lot more about why in the coming chapters. For now, notice how vague they are. “Speak up in your community” sounds empowering, but what does it really mean? Speak up to whom? Say what? “Join international efforts” sounds good too. But your average moviegoer may be forgiven for thinking, “Yeah, I’ll get right on that.” Most viewers likely walked out feeling alarmed, maybe intending to buy better lightbulbs. After all, lightbulbs were first on the list!
It turns out audiences did become both more knowledgeable and more concerned about the climate crisis. But this new found knowledge and concern doesn’t appear to have amounted to much, at least in the short term. One study found that a month after seeing the film, viewers had done next to nothing to put their newfound climate knowledge into action. Not one of them had examined their carbon footprint or written a letter to their senator.
Another study found that framing solutions in terms of individual consumer choices decreases people's willingness to take other forms of action to fight climate change. Maybe people feel like they’re being blamed for a global crisis beyond their control. Maybe they resent being asked to respond with what to them looks like merely symbolic, even futile, changes to their personal behavior. The danger, then, is not just that such messages don’t help. It’s that they might be making things worse.
Some people have started to get wise to this long history of corporations laying problems at the feet of individuals. The backlash it’s helped create has produced slogans now found on fridge magnets, protest posters, and newspaper headlines. The most common ones suggest a different kind of thing to do: stop worrying about personal choices, and start focusing on changing the system. The news site Vox published an article in 2019 whose headline perfectly expresses this idea: “I Work in the Environmental Movement. I Don’t Care If You Recycle.”
The Sunrise Movement, a decentralized, youth-led group at the forefront of progressive climate politics, advocates system change: “to abolish or reimagine institutions that degrade our communities and our climate.” This marks a generational sea change in climate activism. Abolishing or reimagining institutions was most certainly not on An Inconvenient Truth’s list. Writing for the New Yorker, Andrew Marantz recounts a telling experience with a Sunrise group in Philadelphia:
The organizers were scanning the menu of a Middle Eastern restaurant on Uber Eats. Aru Shiney-Ajay, Sunrise’s training director, sat at a laptop, taking orders. “Can you get me a beef kebab?” Dejah Powell, an organizer from Chicago, said. “Or, no. Beef is the worst, right? Maybe chicken. Or falafel?”
“Dejah,” an activist named John Paul Mejia said, in a mock-scolding tone. He started reciting a movement adage, using the singsong rhythm of a call-and-response: “The biggest driver of emissions is . . .” The others joined him, in unison: “. . . the political power of the fossil-fuel industry, not individual behavior.” In other words, if you want the beef, get the beef.
One way to think about Sunrise’s system-over-individual logic is to recall Iron Eyes Cody. We called him a fraud, but looked at another way, his personal deception obscures the bigger story. A first-generation Sicilian American was able to play some of the most iconic Native American roles in Hollywood because the movie industry excluded actual Native Americans from taking those roles. The biases woven into cultural norms and movie business practices allowed, and incentivized, Cody’s personal fraud. Too much focus on what he should or shouldn’t have done, as a single person, makes it easy to overlook the system that structured his options and made his personal choices possible in the first place. Coming to appreciate the significance of systems can be disorienting, but keeping that significance firmly in view is crucial to understanding the bigger picture. The little-things-add-up take on individual responsibility is too easily weaponized by corporations advancing their own interests. When it comes to climate change, they have long pushed a picture where “taking action” means tweaking our shopping choices. It’s this history that Sunrise and other progressive climate activists are rightly standing at war, yelling stop.
But even if we accept this change in perspective, it’s not at all obvious what we should do next. To take that step, we’ll look at another area of life where a loud chorus is rightly demanding structural change.