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The real question is not whether Trump is allowed to use degrading language, but whether a president who does so honors the dignity of the office—or hollows it out from within.
When a president uses language that dehumanizes, it is not a matter of legality, it is a matter of dignity, and it signals who our society values. Every utterance from the Oval Office carries weight; it sets norms, authorizes behaviors, and communicates whose humanity is recognized and whose is diminished.
When President Donald Trump referred to Minnesota Gov. Tim Walz using the R-word, defenders rushed in with a familiar refrain: freedom of speech. He can say what he wants. He is protected. End of discussion.
But this is not a freedom-of-speech question. It is a freedom-of-dignity question.
Donald Trump is not a private citizen muttering into the void. He is the most powerful person in the world, speaking through a global amplifier backed by the authority of the presidency. The real question is not whether he is allowed to use degrading language, but whether a president who does so honors the dignity of the office—or hollows it out from within.
A president’s words do more than reveal character; they instruct the nation in who it is permitted to become.
Some defenders argue that only the N-word merits being reduced to an initial, that if Trump wants to use “retarded,” he can—and so can anyone else. They dismiss criticism as cancel culture, another example of Democrats weaponizing political correctness.
This defense is morally hollow. Saying, “Only the N-word counts” is an impoverished standard. Harmful language does not become acceptable simply because it targets a different group. The R-word is not neutral—it has been used for decades to demean, exclude, and dehumanize people with intellectual and developmental disabilities, reducing human beings to a punchline or a flaw.
This is not about partisan loyalty or performative outrage. It is about whether we believe people deserve basic dignity regardless of disability. If you had a child, a sibling, or a close friend with an intellectual or developmental disability, would you really argue that the most powerful person in the country should be excused for using a word that has long diminished their worth? Would that feel like free speech, or like indifference?
Leadership is not only about what one is legally permitted to say. It is about what one chooses to say. Leaders set norms. When they adopt language that punches down, they grant permission for others to follow. Calling that out is not political correctness; it is a minimal ethical expectation of public leadership.
BJ Stasio, a Peer Specialist 2 with the New York State Office for People With Developmental Disabilities, explains:
When national leaders use the R-word casually, it reactivates real harm for people who were once labeled, limited, and underestimated. As someone who has lived with that label—and now leads within the disability rights movement—I know firsthand what the stigma can do.
Nicole LeBlanc, a disability employment consultant and self-advocacy adviser, underscores the emotional and systemic toll:
Seeing the R-word insult return to everyday language is enraging. Many people with autism—especially those diagnosed in adulthood—carry complex trauma histories from bullying and verbal abuse. Research shows they are more likely to be bullied than the general population, leading to high rates of PTSD, anxiety, and other challenges. People with disabilities want respect, love, acceptance, and access to services that allow us to thrive, not just survive. Using hateful language fuels negative attitudes, health disparities, and higher abuse rates. Respect is not optional.
Emauni Crawley, a behavioral health coach and disability advocate, is blunt:
The manner in which Trump articulates the R-word is not a result of ignorance. It is an act of perverseness.
Dr. Gary Schaffer, professor of school psychology, mental health counselor, author, and a person with disabilities, adds historical context:
The R-word is not neutral. It is hate speech, reducing learning and behavioral differences to something laughable and diminishing a person’s value to society. When the president of the United States uses it openly, he gives a green light to discriminate, segregate, and withhold empathy—not only from people with intellectual disabilities, but from anyone with learning or behavioral differences.
This danger is not theoretical. Prior to 1975, many students with disabilities were denied access to education entirely because they were deemed incapable of learning. Language paved the way for policy. It always does.
Max Donatelli, a US Air Force Vietnam veteran, disability advocate, and parent, put it plainly:
The public disrespect shown by this president to people with intellectual and developmental disabilities is unprecedented. Our country deserves better. As a parent and advocate, we have found it challenging to rid our language of the R-word at the local, state, and national levels. We helped New York State end its use of it in the office that administers services to people with intellectual and developmental disabilities. What was once the Office for Mental Retardation and Developmental Disabilities is now the Office for People with Developmental Disabilities, thanks to significant advocacy. Our wonderful son Craig, who has Down syndrome, deserves the respect and opportunities afforded all citizens. The use of this slur is a stain on this presidency that won’t be forgotten by us.
The R-word entered medical and educational usage in the late 19th and early 20th centuries as a supposedly humane replacement for earlier slurs. By the 1960s and 1970s, it had become an everyday insult. Its harm was so widespread that it was removed from professional, legal, and clinical use, replaced by terms such as intellectual disability and developmental disability. Organizations like the Special Olympics have spent decades urging the public to abandon the word entirely.
Trump’s use of it is therefore not accidental, nostalgic, or brave. It is regressive. It communicates that labeling human beings this way is acceptable—even legitimate. Taboos are ethical boundaries. When a president violates them intentionally, the violation instructs.
Words alone are dangerous. When paired with policy, the harm compounds. Rhetoric that degrades, combined with policies that strip protections, sends a clear message about whose lives are valued and whose are negotiable. Programs like SOAR, which helped people with severe mental health challenges access Social Security benefits and provided housing, healthcare, and stability. Cutting them leaves people exposed. The erosion of special education, weakening of Americans with Disabilities Act guidance, and refusal to provide real-time American Sign Language interpretation at White House events send the same message: Accessibility is optional; inclusion is an inconvenience.
Harm becomes systemic not all at once, but sentence by sentence, joke by joke, policy memo by policy memo. The erosion of dignity rarely announces itself as violence. It begins as permission—to mock, dismiss, reduce. When that permission comes from the highest office in the land, it spreads.
This is not about fragility. It is about responsibility. A president’s words do more than reveal character; they instruct the nation in who it is permitted to become. When language degrades and protections are hollowed out, dignity ceases to be shared and becomes a privilege rationed by power.
The question is no longer whether such language is legal. It is whether we will accept a politics that treats some people’s humanity as expendable, and whether we will recognize, before it spreads further, that a nation willing to bargain away dignity at the margins will eventually find it gone at the center.
In the America that Vance envisions, people are only judged for "who they are"—unless they’re immigrants, transgender, women, Muslims, or people of color.
On December 21, at Turning Point USA’s annual national conference, Vice President JD Vance took to the stage to denounce the evils of diversity, equity, and inclusion initiatives.
He told the crowd:
We don’t treat anybody different because of their race or their sex, so we have relegated DEI to the dustbin of history, which is exactly where it had belonged. In the United States of America, you don’t have to apologize for being white anymore. And if you’re an Asian, you don’t have to talk around your skin color when you’re applying for college. Because we judge people based on who they are, not on ethnicity and things they can’t control. We don’t persecute you for being male, for being straight, for being gay, for being anything. The only thing that we demand is that you be a great American patriot. And if you’re that, you’re very much on our team.
For Vance, DEI and affirmative action policies are so vile that it “pisses [him] off a million times more” than racial slurs aimed at his own children by an actual white supremacist.
This is because DEI policies, in his view, are specifically designed to harm white men. On December 17, Vance posted on Twitter that, “A lot of people think ‘DEI’ is lame diversity seminars or racial slogans at NFL games. In reality, it was a deliberate program of discrimination against white men. This is an incredible piece that describes the evil of DEI and its consequences.”
The “incredible piece” is an article by Jacob Savage entitled “The Lost Generation.” Savage argues that “DEI wasn’t a gentle rebalancing—it was a profound shift in how power and prestige were distributed.” A redistribution that, Savage argues, harmed “white male millennials” who saw opportunities that would have ordinarily gone to people like him go to people of color and women instead. Savage’s grievance is premised on the assumption that the people who succeed in his place were less qualified—the type of people that he would have triumphed over if not for DEI.
Much of the article is typical anti-DEI rhetoric. But, toward the end, Savage makes the following—almost insightful—point:
It’s strange and more than a little poisonous to see yourself buffeted by forces beyond your control. But there’s also a comfort in it. Because it’s less painful to scroll through other people’s IMDb pages late at night, figuring out what shortcut—race, gender, connections—they took to success, than to grapple with the fact that there are white men my age who’ve succeeded, and I am not one of them. I could have worked harder, I could have networked better, I could have been better. The truth is, I’m not some extraordinary talent who was passed over; I’m an ordinary talent—and in ordinary times that would have been enough.
Savage, like Vance and most anti-DEI advocates, champions “American meritocracy.” Yet, he is somehow upset and surprised that someone with “ordinary talent” failed to succeed. Isn’t this outcome exactly what true, unfettered meritocracy would produce? If everyone, regardless of race, sex, and gender, were able to compete equally, then those who are not “extraordinary” would always struggle to find financial security and success.
The actual problem that Savage is unknowingly pointing to is not DEI. It’s capitalism. Within a capitalist system that prioritizes maximizing profits over people’s well-being, and a political system that offers little to no protection for those capitalism leaves behind, most people will struggle to survive. That is by design.
Capitalism will always, by its very nature, produce “winners” and “losers.” The more people there are competing for a steadily decreasing number of jobs, the more “losers” there will be. A problem that AI—aided by the Trump administration’s effort to eliminate any regulations against it—will likely worsen in the coming years. The only real “winners” in this dynamic are the ultra-wealthy class who continue to succeed regardless of their own individual talents.
He is evoking racial animosity to distract his supporters from the real problems that capitalism is generating and that the Trump administration is ignoring.
If Vance really cared about treating people equally and with dignity, then he would concern himself with tackling the affordability crisis, increasing wages, lowering healthcare costs, building more social safety nets—all issues that the Trump administration is currently failing to address. Worse even, this administration is actively working to undermine many of the programs that would help people like Savage who are struggling to get by.
No matter what Vance says, being “a great American patriot” will never be enough to succeed within the current capitalist system. And Vance knows this. In Hillbilly Elegy, Vance discusses the significance of “social capital,” or leveraging the networks of people and institutions around us to “connect us to the right people, ensure that we have opportunities, and impart valuable information.” For Vance, his social capital, which included Yale professors, tech billionaires, and former presidential speechwriters, was critical to his success. However, that capital is reserved for the upper class. As he writes, “Those who tap into it and use it prosper. Those who don’t are running life’s race with a major handicap. This is a serious problem for kids like me.”
Ultimately, Vance is not concerned with equality or discrimination. His attacks on DEI are nothing more than a smokescreen. He is evoking racial animosity to distract his supporters from the real problems that capitalism is generating and that the Trump administration is ignoring. He is hoping to exploit people’s genuine frustrations with the status quo to become president in 2028.
Vance preaches inclusivity, but his entire social and political ideology is divisive. He claims that, “We all got wrapped up over the last few years in zero sum thinking. This was because the people who think they rule the world pit us against one another.” But the reality is that Vance’s pro-capitalist, Christian nationalist, and ethnonationalist values are all zero sum ways of thinking that function precisely to divide people.
Vance says that “in the United States of America, you don’t have to apologize for being white anymore.” Yet, white people have never had to apologize for being white. This is performative anger. Vance is using the same rhetoric still used by the KKK—“Never! Never! Apologize for Being White!—to fuel hatred and contempt for his own political gain.
In the America that Vance envisions, people are only judged for “who they are”—unless they’re immigrants, transgender, women, Muslims, or people of color. Within the very same speech that Vance champions equality for all, he attacks Somali Americans. He tells the audience that “Democrats are not sending their best. Omar Fateh was Ilhan Omar’s candidate for mayor of Mogadishu. Wait, I mean Minneapolis. Little Freudian slip there”—smiling as the crowd laughed along.
As one of his former friends puts it, Vance is a “chameleon. Someone who is able to change their positions and their values depending on what will amass them political power and wealth. And I think that’s really unfortunate, because it reflects a lack of integrity.” His drastic change of heart about Trump is proof of how easily he can change his colors. Vance went from Trump is “America’s Hitler” to now serving as his vice president within the span of a few years. His anti-DEI rhetoric is just another political maneuver meant to serve his own interest.
All that said, Vance is right about one thing—“The people who think they rule the world pit us against one another.” Those people include him. We can’t let him succeed.
Activists in Ithaca, New York are mobilizing for the first city-wide ban on arbitrary firings in the US. Other cities should take note.
Activists in Ithaca, New York are trying something unique: They’re mobilizing support for an ordinance that would prohibit employers in that small city from firing their employees without just cause. If they succeed, they’ll have enacted the first such city-wide ban on arbitrary firings in the country.
Success in this effort will be a big deal, because in the United States, employment—unless otherwise restricted by law, collective bargaining agreement, or individual employment contract—is considered to be “at will.” This means that in the vast majority of cases, employers are entitled to fire workers at their whim, without warning or explanation.
A 2021 report from the National Employment Law Project (NELP) tells us that about half of US workers have been affected by unfair or arbitrary firings at some point in their lives, with devastating consequences for them and their families. Not surprisingly, then, a nationwide survey cited in the report found wide public support for just cause protections, including from 71% of voters in battleground states, with both Democratic and Republican majorities weighing in favorably.
Even without new federal, state, or local legislation, employers today face some limits to the at-will doctrine: federal and state laws, like Title VII of the Civil Rights Act, that bar various sorts of discrimination in the workplace; anti-retaliation statutes, like those included in the Fair Labor Standards Act, the Occupational Safety and Health Act, and many other whistleblower-protection statutes; and section 7 of the National Labor Relations Act, that prohibits firing for union or other "concerted" activity. All these laws fall short of robustly protecting workers from retaliatory or discriminatory firings, however, largely because the burden is on the employee to prove the employer's illegal motivation—no simple feat—when under the general at-will rule the employer can fire the worker for no reason at all.
In addition to these limited statutory constraints on the at-will doctrine, over the past 50 or so years a number of state common law exceptions to the rule have developed. The most prevalent is the "public policy" exception, under which, in theory at least, employers can't fire workers for reasons that are contrary to public policy. Courts generally interpret the exception narrowly, applying it only to employees who exercise a clear legal right, perform a clear legal duty, or refuse to violate the law, or when the employer engaged in an “outrageous violation of a well-established public policy.”
Well-crafted state and local laws and ordinances, with accessible and effective enforcement mechanisms, have the potential to empower workers in new and game-changing ways, especially as federal protections erode before our eyes.
A second exception is the "implied contract of continuing employment" (at least theoretically available in 41 states and the District of Columbia). It's derived from employee handbooks, policies, and the like, that suggest protection from discharge except if the employee performs poorly, violates company policies, or has to be laid off because of the employer's economic necessity. Employers can generally get around this claim by expressly stating in their materials that the employee is working on an at-will basis, and that its various policies can be revised at any time, at the discretion of the employer.
Lastly, 11 states have read into the common law an "implied covenant of good faith and fair dealing," imposed on employers and employees, to act fairly. While theoretically this should prohibit firings without cause altogether, in actuality courts rarely find it applies, and then only in the most abusive cases. In other words, none of these common law carve outs from at-will employment have been particularly helpful to workers.
Which brings us to Ithaca’s legislative proposal. As the core provision of its current draft version (embedded at the Ithaca Just Cause website), the ordinance would prohibit discharge of an employee who has completed their (maximum 90-day) probationary period, for any reason other than just cause or a bona fide economic reason. In considering whether the just cause standard has been satisfied, the fact finder is to consider, among other things, whether the employer trained the worker on its performance requirements and bases for discipline, and whether the employer’s policy, rule, practice, or performance standard, including its use of progressive discipline, was reasonable and applied consistently.
Also, except in cases of egregious misconduct, the employer has to specifically notify the worker of what rules they violated or requirements they fell short of, and must utilize progressive discipline prior to firing. Similar notice of reasons is required before discharging a worker on account of bona fide economic necessity. Significantly, if an employee termination is to be upheld, the burden is on the employer to satisfy these requirements by a preponderance of the evidence.
The proposed legislation also adds a "Worker Rights" section to the City of Ithaca Municipal Code, and establishes a commission that would adjudicate complaints of violation. Complaints of violation can also be filed in court.
Retaliation against workers who exercise any of the rights granted by the legislation is expressly prohibited, and use of electronic surveillance as a tool for determining employee performance is restricted. Remedies for employees vary depending on the violation, and include back pay and damages, rescission of discipline and reinstatement, penalties, severance pay, injunctive relief, and attorneys’ fees.
The proposed ordinance echoes the recommendations laid out in these NELP and Roosevelt Institute reports. Published in 2021, both make the case for why this kind of municipal ordinance, or more potently, a comparable state law (or, as an even more radical aspiration, federal legislation, as promoted by Independent Vermont Sen. Bernie Sanders) is justified and overdue for all workers—with NELP focusing particularly on the disproportionate impact of at-will employment on people of color and immigrant workers, who face higher rates of wage theft, discrimination, and retaliation for asserting their rights than the employee population at large.
It should come as no surprise, but it's still shameful, that this country lags far behind many other nations—Australia, Brazil, Japan, Mexico, the United Kingdom, and most of the European Union, to name a few—in providing just-cause protections against arbitrary and unfair firings. Which is why what the Ithaca coalition is doing is really worth noticing. But it's not the first city to take this on: Philadelphia led the (notably small) pack when, in 2019, its city council enacted a just cause termination ordinance for the city's approximately 1,000 parking lot attendants. New York City was next, enacting a comparable ordinance protecting its fast food workers in 2021. Also in New York City, a diverse coalition of unions, advocacy organizations, and high road employers are pressing for passage of a Secure Jobs Act covering all employees who work in the city. With its newly elected democratic socialist mayor Zohran Mamdani, it just might succeed.
The US territories of Puerto Rico and the Virgin Islands have just cause laws. In Illinois, a Secure Jobs Act, pressed by Raise the Floor Alliance and a broad array of allies, was introduced in the state legislature in 2021, but has yet to be enacted. In what might come as a surprise, Montana is the only state in the US to have enacted just cause legislation, and it's been on the books for decades. While not nearly as progressive as the Ithaca, New York City, and Illinois models, it is unique in prohibiting, state-wide, firings without good cause.
Some may be concerned that just cause legislation could undercut unions' ability to successfully organize, since that's a key benefit they can provide in collective bargaining agreements. But there are a number of arguments that cut the other way—including that if firing without good cause is made illegal and is readily enforceable, it creates a more effective impediment to employers' efforts to get rid of pro-union activists than the weak and slow remedies the National Labor Relations Act has to offer. And, just cause for all workers would provide a floor, not a ceiling, for union negotiations for even better protections against improper firings at unionized workplaces.
Worker rights advocates should watch Ithaca Just Cause's initiative with keen interest. It also should give food for thought—and inspiration—for those of us who live in other cities and states. It’s clear that just cause protections are popular with workers across party lines. Well-crafted state and local laws and ordinances, with accessible and effective enforcement mechanisms, have the potential to empower workers in new and game-changing ways, especially as federal protections erode before our eyes. For those of us in locales where this might be possible, maybe it's time to give it a try.