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Republicans appear to be paying no price for turning the Kirk event into a right-wing, Christian nationalist, white supremacist MAGA political rally.
The memorial services for Charlie Kirk last week and for Senator Paul Wellstone in 2002 illustrate how much our political culture has changed over the past two decades.
Both men were charismatic figures on opposite ends of the political spectrum. Wellstone died in a plane crash. Kirk was murdered on a college campus. Wellstone was an elected official. Kirk was a political agitator. They both lived interesting lives. But what’s fascinating is how their respective supporters, their opponents, and the media reacted to their deaths and, in particular, to the memorial services organized to eulogize them.
Wellstone, a former community organizer and political science professor at Carleton College, was elected to the U.S. Senate in 1990, defeating a Republican opponent with a grassroots campaign that included clever TV ads emphasizing his low-budget operation and his high-energy activism. He won reelection six years later. At the time, he was the Senate's most progressive member (Bernie Sanders was not yet in the Senate) and was known as the "conscience of the Senate."
On October 25, 2002, Wellstone (along with seven others, including his wife) died in a small plane crash, one week before the election in which he was running for a third term. Minnesota law required that Wellstone’s name be stricken from the ballot and replaced by the Democratic Farmer Labor Party. One day after the crash, the DFL selected former Vice President Walter Mondale as its Senate candidate.
On October 29, Wellstone’s family and friends organized a public memorial event at the Williams Arena in Minneapolis (the University of Minnesota's basketball arena), which was broadcast live on national TV. High-profile Democrats (including former president Bill Clinton) and Republicans (including Senator Trent Lott) as well as Minnesota Gov. Jesse Ventura (an independent) attended the service, but only Wellstone's family and close friends spoke at the event.
Their remarks were not vetted or scripted. One of the speakers was Wellstone's close friend and former campaign treasurer, Rick Kahn. He began his speech as a conventional eulogy, but it shifted into a call to action, suggesting that the best way to honor Wellstone's memory was to keep organizing: "We’re gonna organize, we’re gonna organize, we’re gonna organize, we’re gonna organize, we’re gonna organize, we’re gonna organize!...[T]ogether, we can and will continue to fight every one of his fights; and together we can and will achieve great victories in Paul Wellstone’s name.’’ Kahn then rallied the crowd by urging them to "keep Paul Wellstone's legacy alive" by helping Mondale win the Senate election.
Republicans immediately attacked the Democrats for turning the memorial service into a political rally. They demanded "equal time" on TV to counter the event's messages. Former Republican Minnesota congressman Vin Weber said, ‘‘The DFL clearly intends to exploit Wellstone’s memory totally, completely and shamelessly for political gain. To them, Wellstone’s death, apparently, was just another campaign event.
The Republicans were particularly rankled that two weeks earlier, Wellstone was among the 21 Senate Democrats (out of 50) to vote against the authorization for the use of US military force in Iraq, a key component of President George W. Bush's rally-round-the-flag response to the 9/11 bombing. They also knew that if the GOP candidate (former St. Paul Mayor Norm Coleman) defeated Mondale, it would flip the Senate, so they orchestrated a full-scale attack on the Democrats for politicizing the Wellstone memorial event.
The media echoed the Republicans' (as well as Ventura's) attack on the Democrats for “politicizing” the memorial event. The orchestrated backlash worked. A poll conducted by the Minneapolis Star-Tribune a few hours before the memorial service found that Mondale was leading Coleman by eight points. But on election day, Coleman won by 2.2%. His victory ended the Democrats' one-seat majority in the Senate. On election day, Republican Tim Pawlenty won a three-way race for Minnesota governor, while the GOP flipped one House seat and made gains in the state legislature.
Some journalists and professors began describing what occurred as the "Wellstone effect." For example, after Senator Ted Kennedy, the key proponent of universal health insurance, died in 2009, Rush Limbaugh warned that Democrats would turn his memorial service into a "Wellstone memorial on steroids." NBC News observed that ‘‘Anyone addressing the health care bill at the [Kennedy] service will tread a fine line between taste and politics...The dangers of politicizing a memorial event were illustrated by a 2002 memorial for Sen. Paul Wellstone."
The memorial service for Charlie Kirk (at a football stadium in Glendale, Arizona) was obviously a political rally by MAGA Republicans to turn Kirk into a martyr for their cause, to keep his legacy and his right-wing organization Turning Point USA alive, and to exact vengeance and whip up anger against Democrats, liberals, "the left," the media, and all those Trump views as his opponents. Kirk held no office, but he was close to Trump and Vice President JD Vance. His final speaking tour (which included the Utah event where he was killed) was clearly intended not only to build the MAGA movement but also to help Republicans win the 2026 midterm House elections that Trump is worried they could lose.
Trump used his 40-minute speech to highlight campaign talking points like tariffs, crime in Chicago, and fear-mongering about the unproven consequences of Tylenol as well as to call for revenge against his opponents.
“Charlie Kirk truly was ... he was a missionary with a noble spirit and a great, great purpose,” the president said. “He did not hate his opponents. He wanted the best for them. That's where I disagreed with Charlie. I hate my opponent and I don't want the best for them.”
Several speakers praised Kirk’s mission to carry out a conservative Christian vision of the United States. “We always did need less government,” said Defense Secretary Pete Hegseth. “But what Charlie understood and infused into his movement is that we also needed a lot more God.”
Tucker Carlson even compared Kirk’s murder to the crucifixion of Jesus Christ.
The most vitriolic remarks came from Stephen Miller, Trump’s key consigliere, who the previous week vowed to avenge Kirk’s death by “go[ing] after the left-leaning organizations” that, he claimed, “are promoting violence in this country.”
At Kirk’s memorial service, Miller -- a foaming-at-the-mouth fanatic -- declared: “Erika [Kirk's widow] is the storm. We are the storm. And our enemies cannot comprehend our strength, our determination, our resolve, our passion."
“Our lineage and our legacy hails back to Athens, to Rome, to Philadelphia, to Monticello,” Miller continued. “Our ancestors built the cities. They produced the art and architecture. They built the industry,” he said, pulling “us out of the caves and the darkness into the light."
“We built the world that we inhabit now, generation by generation, and we will defend this world,” he added.
Addressing “the forces of wickedness and evil,” Miller thundered. “You have nothing. You are nothing. You are wickedness, you are jealousy, you are envy, you are hatred. You are nothing. You can build nothing. You can produce nothing. You can create nothing. We are the ones who build. We are the ones who create. We are the ones who lift up humanity."
“You have no idea the dragon you have awakened,” he warned, as the MAGA movement will strive to “save this civilization, to save the west, to save this republic, because our children are strong, and our grandchildren will be strong, and our children’s children’s children will be strong. And what will you leave behind? Nothing, nothing.”
Even if one believes that Paul Wellstone's friends and family, acting out of grief, erred in politicizing the 2002 memorial service, nothing said at that event reflected the kind of hate-mongering, venom-spewing, and demonizing of opponents that we saw at the Kirk memorial, which was like a combination of a religious revival meeting and a KKK rally. Our culture has come to accept as normal the kind of hysterical rants and raves espoused by Kirk's friends and colleagues, including Trump, Vance, and Miller.
Moreover, after the Republicans and much of the media ganged up to condemn the Wellstone memorial, the Democrats paid dearly. In contrast, Republicans appear to be paying no price for turning the Kirk event into a right-wing, Christian nationalist, white supremacist MAGA political rally.
Unlike the Republicans' backlash against the Wellstone memorial service, which they claimed was illegitimate and even illegal, today’s Democratic leaders, liberals, and the mainstream media seem intimidated from telling the truth about the memorial service that echoed and honored Kirk's outrageous views, which, polls show, are strongly opposed by most Americans. The failure of current Democratic leaders and the media to challenge this apocalyptic, white supremacist, Christian nationalist fever is part of the problem.
The most progressive of the candidates under serious consideration was the one Kamala Harris has decided to put on the ticket. It was her choice and she made a good one.
The few weeks of speculation are over. Kamala Harris has selected Minnesota Governor Tim Walz as her VP running mate.
All six of the leading candidates had strengths and weaknesses that have been endlessly discussed. Whoever Harris selected, some of her supporters were bound to be disappointed. I believe that nothing is more important in U.S. politics at this moment than defeating both Trump and Trumpism. And so I have been prepared to write in support of whoever was the nominee. All the same, I honestly think that Walz is the best choice, and I am both relieved and heartened that it is he that Harris has chosen.
Walz is a Minnesota progressive (think Walter Mondale with a touch of Paul Wellstone) who can help carry Minnesota and Wisconsin (states in his media market) and Michigan, and he is the kind of plain-spoken, no-bullshit guy that will play well throughout the “heartland”—and will be able to call bullshit, figuratively and literally, on J.D. Vance and his “hillbilly elegies.”
While Josh Shapiro, like Harris, has had a “typical” career trajectory from law school to politics, Walz served for 24 years in the Army National Guard and is the highest-ranking enlisted soldier to ever serve in the U.S. Congress—where he served for 12 years as a major supporter of veteran’s affairs. He is a former high school teacher and football coach who received his college degree—a B.S.—from Chadron State College in Nebraska (where, you ask? Exactly the point). He is a hunter and gun owner. In other words, he is the farthest thing from a “coastal liberal” that it is possible to be.
Walz is very strong on social and economic issues, which is why he has been the favored choice of Bernie Sanders and other progressives. He has been described as a “Minnesota social democrat,” and this is accurate. But so too was Walter Monday and Hubert Humphrey before him—neither a Bernie Sanders-type. Walz might well be the person in this race whose profile is closest to—Joe Biden. And he promises to do for Harris’s campaign what Biden did for Barack Obama’s in 2008.
Walz is very strong on social and economic issues, which is why he has been the favored choice of Bernie Sanders and other progressives.
Shapiro is a very successful Democratic governor who promised to carry Pennsylvania and its 19 electoral votes (it is worth noting that Minnesota and Wisconsin each have 10 electoral votes, and Michigan another 15). He is a more “centrist” politician than Walz, and he was supported by many donor-types because of his more neoliberal views on economics (especially school choice), and also by many pro-Zionist groups because of his positions on the Israel/Gaza war and on campus protest. And he is probably more closely associated with the Biden administration’s feckless handling of the Middle East crisis than any other candidate. But these policy positions also threatened to alienate many of the base democratic constituencies—young people, Arab-Americans, many of the BLM-linked civil rights groups—whose mobilization will be crucial in November. (And the notion that progressive opposition to Shapiro because of his positions on the Gaza war and campus protest is antisemitic is bullshit, though it draws on tropes that right-wing Zionists have been deploying ever since October 7.).
Shapiro’s profile as a Democratic rising star is indeed rather close to Harris’s—and indeed in the end it might have been his ambition and his strong personality that caused Harris to look elsewhere for a partner. The notion that Harris is a “leftist” who needs to be balanced by Shapiro’s centrism is risible, and it is worth reminding those making this claim that when she campaigned for the Democratic presidential nomination in 2019-2020, she was very much in the middle of a race whose two most dynamic candidates, for some time, were Bernie Sanders and Elizabeth Warren. At that time, she was being attacked from the left for not being radical enough (I published a piece on this back in February 2019 entitled “Kamala Harris Is Not a Red-Baiter, She’s Just Not a Socialist, Like Most Americans.”) The Trump campaign will lie about her “leftism.” But the proper antidote to such lies is simply the effective promulgation of the truth.
In short, Walz “balances” Harris on the ticket better than Shapiro ever could.
And if Shapiro and Fetterman–who hate each other, another interesting dynamic that might have played a role in Harris’s choice of Walz–are the Pennsylvania power-houses they each claim to be, then they should be able to deliver their state to the Democrats anyway (I assume that at some point the support of “Scranton Joe” might also play a role).
Harris has made a fantastic choice, even if it will disappoint some of the neocons who have realigned with the Democratic Party.
In yesterday’s The Bulwark, Bill Kristol—full disclosure, a friend with whom I have collaborated—argued strenuously that Shapiro is the only strong VP candidate, and that Harris’s failure to name him would be the “first unforced error of her campaign,” potentially stalling her momentum and also making her look weak “after the campaign against him from the left.” Kristol was not wrong to note Shapiro’s strengths. But, as I indicate above, these strengths are exaggerated, and come with serious weaknesses; indeed Kristol admits that “Harris could still win without Shapiro.”
Harris has made a fantastic choice, even if it will disappoint some of the neocons who have realigned with the Democratic Party.
Kristol exaggerates the extent to which there has been a “campaign against” Shapiro as opposed to an honest debate about who would be best. For as he himself notes, most Harris supporters have said that they would support whoever Harris picks. The differences between the VP candidates were not great, and all were and are firmly in the general orbit of Harris—who is of course the person who matters most.
The Democratic Party is a big tent party that has become even bigger since Trump forced many former Republicans out of the GOP. “Never Trump” Republicans are now an important part of the “common front” against the MAGA movement, as the Harris campaign has clearly acknowledged with its launching of “Republicans for Harris.” And centrist Democrats—of which there are a great many—are a core constituency of the party. But the progressive wing of the Democratic party is equally central; it has been pivotal for the Biden administration’s economic agenda and for its legislative success; and the successful mobilization of its supporters is essential to a Harris victory in November. Harris has demonstrated her savvy, and her leadership skills, by refusing to play against her own party’s left, and by choosing a running mate—Walz—who is, in all honesty, capable of appealing to the party’s diverse constituencies, while being as mainstream and middle America as they come.
But the main reason why Harris’s choice of Walz is the right choice is much simpler: because it was Harris’s choice to make, and she has made it.
In a matter of weeks, she has gone from being the running mate of a depressed and failing Biden campaign to being the dynamic leader of her own presidential campaign. She has been able to bridge divides within her party, to mobilize the entire range of Democratic constituencies behind her candidacy, and to generate an unprecedented amount of fundraising and volunteer enthusiasm.
For whatever combination of personal and political reasons, she has chosen Tim Walz.
It is now incumbent on everyone who believes that a Trump victory would be a disaster for social justice and democracy to support the Harris-Walz ticket and to do the work necessary to bring it a resounding victory in November.
Power to the People!" blared over the speakers at Navy Pier Festival Hall in Chicago in early March, as U.S. Senator Bernie Sanders walked onstage in front of roughly 12,500 cheering supporters and declared, "We are gathered here tonight to complete the political revolution that we started three years ago."
With rocking campaign kickoff rallies in Brooklyn and Chicago, more than a million volunteers signed up, and $10 million raised in small-dollar donations within a week of his announcement, Sanders is making a serious bid to be the Democratic candidate who faces Donald Trump in 2020.
After all, he says, his 2016 campaign has already had a lasting impact on the Democratic Party.
"Three years ago, they thought we were kinda crazy and extreme," Sanders said in Chicago. "Not the case anymore. Three years ago, the ideas that we brought forth here in Illinois and all over the country were rejected by Democrats. Not anymore."
Indeed, the other Democratic candidates in a crowded primary field are beginning to sound a lot like Sanders. Senator Kamala Harris, Democrat of California, is backing a "Medicare for All" universal health care plan. Elizabeth Warren, who has always shared Sanders's concerns about income inequality, corporate welfare, and wrongdoing by Wall Street, is also pushing the Democratic debates to the left. Even Senator Amy Klobuchar, of Minnesota, a centrist candidate, talks about "getting to universal health care" and invoked the late community organizer and progressive Senator Paul Wellstone in her announcement speech.
It's a new day for Democrats.
Medicare for All and the Green New Deal have new champions in Congress--including progressive rock star Representative Alexandria Ocasio-Cortez, Democratic Socialist of New York, who was inspired to get into politics by Sanders.
But is Sanders, a seventy-seven-year-old white man, the best face for the new Democratic Party? When Vermont Public Radio reporter Bob Kinzel asked him that question, Sanders replied:
"We have got to look at candidates, you know, not by the color of their skin, not by their sexual orientation or their gender, and not by their age." Instead, he said, we need to move toward "a nondiscriminatory society which looks at people based on their abilities, based on what they stand for."
But surely representation of marginalized people means something in the era of Donald Trump, who was elected partly in a backlash against the nation's first African American President, with an aggressively misogynist and xenophobic campaign, as a kind of White Man's Last Stand.
That's why Representatives Ocasio-Cortez, Rashida Tlaib, and Ilhan Omar, along with Stacey Abrams, who almost became the first African American governor of Georgia, are such an exciting new generation of leaders.
Especially this year, it would be nice to see a young, progressive woman of color pick up the mantle from Bernie. But, so far, there is no Democratic candidate in the race who is more progressive than Sanders.
All of the Democratic candidates are emphasizing unity in the divisive Trump era. All are sounding economic populist themes.
Not Kamala Harris, the tough prosecutor who says she is personally opposed to the death penalty, but as California's state attorney general defended its use in a federal lawsuit. Not Senator Cory Booker, Democrat of New Jersey, whose ties to Wall Street and the charter school industry have alienated him from labor, teachers' unions in particular. And not former Vice President Joe Biden, who once called for getting "predators" off the streets through a draconian crime bill.

Elizabeth Warren, who thrilled progressives when she flirted with running in 2016, is the favorite candidate of the million-member Progressive Change Campaign Committee (PCCC), which coined the term "the Elizabeth Warren Wing" of the Democratic Party.
Back when Warren was still unsure whether to run in 2016, a progressive political consultant told me that some advisers had begun tossing around the idea of a "plan B for Bernie." Sanders was not a fan of the phrase.
Now that Bernie has become a household name, and has been leading in early polls, it's not clear if Warren can reclaim her mantle as leader of her wing of the party.
The PCCC has been doing a funny dance, putting out positive statements about Sanders, while reiterating the view that Warren is the best candidate.
This year, Warren was the first Democratic candidate to announce, at a rally in Lawrence, Massachusetts, where she took the stage to the working women's anthem "9 to 5." She told the story of Lawrence's female, immigrant textile workers who led the great strike of 1912, launching the modern labor movement.
"It's a story about power--our power, when we fight together," she declared, connecting the early struggles of working people to the fight for $15 an hour, family leave, universal health care, and "big, structural change" to transform a rigged system.
Amy Klobuchar struck a different tone, announcing her candidacy on the banks of the Mississippi during a snowstorm and emphasizing her Midwestern roots.
"Let us cross the river of our divides and walk across our sturdy bridge to higher ground," Klobuchar said, before closing with the requisite "God bless the United States of America."
All of the Democratic candidates are emphasizing unity in the divisive Trump era. All are sounding economic populist themes. All denounce the Trump Administration's cruelty to immigrants and emphasize racial harmony and civil rights.
The Sanders campaign, well aware that Sanders needs to shore up his support among black voters, leaned hard on his civil rights bona fides in Chicago. After a rip-roaring introduction from his African American campaign co-chair Nina Turner, who connected the Sanders campaign to the freedom struggle going back to Harriet Tubman, Sanders talked about his formative years as a civil rights activist with the Congress of Racial Equality.
In her announcement in Oakland, California, Harris talked about being the daughter of a father from Jamaica and a mother from India who met while participating in the civil rights movement. Then, like Klobuchar, she closed out her speech with a "God bless you" and "God bless the United States of America."
Despite her background, and her support for Medicare for All, Harris sounds like an establishment candidate.
Not Sanders. The 1960s music, the fist-pumping by the young neighborhood activists who preceded him to the podium, the ebullient in-your-face speech by Nina Turner--all of it looked like a nightmare come to life for conservatives of both political parties. This was the specter they tried to attach to Obama: socialism, radical activists from the 1960s, race and class antagonism. Sanders isn't running from it. He's leaning in.
He threw down the gauntlet on corporations that pay no taxes, on big pharmaceutical companies that rip off the sick and elderly. And this: "Today, we say to the military industrial complex that we will not continue to spend $700 billion a year on the military--more than the next ten nations combined." We should invest in human needs, he said, "not more nuclear weapons and never-ending wars."
The Democrats' dilemma is bringing together the economic justice message that caught on in 2016 with the Sanders campaign, helped elect a Republican outsider who sounded like a populist, and has gained even more traction since then, with so-called identity politics--a phrase used to dismiss the aspirations of underrepresented people, who, in the violently racist and sexist Trump Administration, are in no mood to be overlooked.
It's not an easy task. For one thing, voters have become even more polarized since 2016, including geographically. The Democrats are now the party of urban areas, while Republicans are the party of rural areas and small towns.
Besides the tensions between "Bernie Bros" and Hillary supporters left over from the last election, there is the question of what to do about white, rural voters who feel abandoned by both parties.
I've met some of those voters recently, while covering the dairy farm crisis across the Upper Midwest. Some are Obama/Trump voters who supported Trump to throw a rock at the whole system. In their announcement speeches, the Democratic candidates tried to appeal to them.
"We will end the decline of rural America, reopen those rural hospitals that have been closed, support family-based agriculture, and make sure that our young people have decent jobs so that they do not have to leave the small towns they love and where they grew up," Sanders said.
Klobuchar pledged to connect every household to the Internet by 2022, "and that means you, rural America."
And Warren, in recalling those textile workers who helped launch the labor movement, said, "It's a story about power--our power, when we fight together."
At the Sanders rally, when his fans began to chant "Bernie! Bernie!," the candidate scolded them a little, reminding them that this is a group effort. "No, no. Nope. Not Bernie--all of us," he said. The crowd obediently switched to a murky "Go, we, go!"
"Now we're talking," Sanders said.
Sheesh. Can't the revolutionaries have a little fun?
If we do not allow Trump to divide us, Sanders said in closing, "if we stand together," gay and straight, black and white, urban and rural, male and female, "if we believe in love and compassion, the truth is there is nothing we cannot accomplish."
Well said. But easier said than done.
Many US citizens take comfort in the conviction that progress toward democracy has been steady even if stalled or even periodically reversed. History is on our side. Early in the post Revolutionary period the right to vote was extended to all white men, even those who held no property. Women achieved the same privilege early in the twentieth century, and the Civil Rights movement of the sixties completed the work Reconstruction had left undone. The arc of the universe is long, but "it bends toward justice." I would argue, however, that SCOTUS decisions like Citizens United challenge that easy faith. Nor are they aberrations within the fabric of a generally supportive culture and polity. Our citizens are facing a broad, multifaceted attack on democracy itself. Support for this attack on democracy is also bi- partisan in the sense that some members of both parties, albeit often quietly, support and benefit from this attack.
Confidence that there is no going back is hard to maintain in the face of political controversies today that in many ways replay issues of Reconstruction. To take just one example, the Fifteenth Amendment declares that the right to vote will not be abridged on the grounds of previous condition of servitude.
Radical as the Fifteenth Amendment may seem in the post Civil War context, it represented a compromise. Some representatives of northern states, where in many cases black males were not allowed to vote, did not want to force a change in their own political practices. They rejected a proposed amendment that would have granted the right to vote without regard to race, nativity, property, education, or religious belief. The version of the amendment as enacted says nothing about voter discrimination based on other criteria, such as literacy, or a poll tax.
In the years following Radical Reconstruction most Southern states had in effect availed themselves of the exclusionary practices not constitutionally sanctioned. Some northerners were unwilling to endorse or allow the level of federal intervention that would have been necessary to enforce truly egalitarian outcomes. Many northerners, for their part, turned their attention toward economic expansion in the west and toward industrial development. That development had encouraged and been facilitated by readings of the 14th amendment as granting corporations the status of personhood. Late 19th century decisions protecting the intangible and physical assets of corporate bodies helped encourage a process of corporate consolidation that many saw as a threat to democracy. (I am drawing on Eric Foner's superb work on Reconstruction)
How did we get to this second Gilded Age and what lessons can we infer regarding our democratic prospects?
Fast forward from one Gilded Age to another. Citizens United, granting unions and corporations the right to spend unlimited amounts of money to advocate for and against political candidates, is often regarded as a singularly dangerous challenge to our democratic norms, especially with its infamous assertion that money is speech. Less attention, however, is pad to the context in which this decision occurred, including corporate consolidation in most sectors of the economy, obscene levels of economic inequality, and near religious reverence for deregulated markets. Media consolidation itself has played an enormous role in driving up the cost of political campaigns. How did we get to this second Gilded Age and what lessons can we infer regarding our democratic prospects?
The post World War II decades saw white working class gains in income made possible by unionization, the GI bill, and a federal commitment to full employment. Positive as these gains were, they carried with them unintended consequences. Workers and employers, having less fear of depression, periodically drove wages and prices up. Bursts of inflation and an unprecedented profit squeeze led to unemployment even in the midst of inflation, an unprecedented and unexpected circumstance. Blacks had been left out of the full benefits of the New Deal welfare state and raised demands not only for political equality but also for economic opportunity, one of Reconstruction's forgotten promises.
These events provided an opening for a group of academics who had long despised the New Deal welfare state. Notre Dame University 's Philip Mirowski Never Let a Serious Crisis G to Waste has provided a careful and detailed analysis of this neoliberal movement in American politics.
These neoliberals shared with their nineteenth- century predecessors a faith in markets, but with an important difference. Adam Smith and JS Mill saw markets as non- coercive means to allocate resources and produce goods and services. Neoliberals regarded markets as perfect information processing machines that could provide optimal solutions to all social problems. Hence a commitment not only to lift rent control on housing but also to privatize prisons, water and sewer systems, and to deregulate all aspects of personal finance and treat education and health care as commodities to be pursued on unregulated markets. An essential part of this faith in markets is the post Reagan view of corporate consolidation. Combinations are to be judged only on the basis of cheap products to the consumer. Older antitrust concerns about worker welfare or threat to democracy itself are put aside. Corporate mergers and the emergence of monopoly are seen as reflections of the omniscient market. In practice, however as we shall see, such a tolerant attitude is not applied to worker associations.
Neoliberals differ from their classical predecessors in a second important way. Market is miraculous and a boon to many, but paradoxically only a strong state can assure its arrival and maintenance. Sometimes it may appear that the market is yielding iniquitous or unsustainable outcomes, which my lead to premature or disastrous rejection of its wisdom. The answer to this anger is more markets, but that requires a strong state staffed by neoliberals. They would have the capacity and authority to enact and impose these markets and distract the electorate and divert them into more harmless pursuits. Recognition of the need for a powerful state stands in partial contradiction to the neoliberal's professed deification of pure markets and was seldom presented to public gatherings. As Mirowski put it, neoliberals operated on the basis of a dual truth, an esoteric truth for its top scholars and theorists and an exoteric version for then public. Celebration of the spontaneous market was good enough for Fox News, whereas top neoliberal scholars discussed how to reengineer government in order to recast society.
The signs of neoliberalism are all around us. Worried about student debt? There is a widely advertised financial institution that will refinance your loan. Trapped in prison with no money for bail. There are corporations and products that will take care of that. Cancer cures, money for funerals and burial expenses can all be obtained via the market. Any problem the market creates the market can solve. The implications of this view have been ominous for democracy and social justice.
The neoliberal deification of markets has many parents. This mindset encouraged and was encouraged by a revolt against democracy. The wealthy had always been concerned that a propertyless working class might vote to expropriate them, but neoliberalism gave them further reason to bypass democracy. Markets were seen as better indicators of truth than democratic elections, though that point was seldom expressed as directly. Here is FA Hayek's oblique expression of this concern: "if we proceed on the assumption that only the exercises of freedom that the majority will practice are important, we would be certain to create a stagnant society with all the characteristics of unfreedom."
The revolt against democracy has occurred on several different levels of the political process. The question of who can vote is just as contested as during Reconstruction, and not just in the South. As during Reconstruction, it does not take the form of explicit racial appeals. The strategy includes further limiting the time polls are open, reduction in the number of polling places, voter identification cards that take time and money to obtain. Who can vote is also a function of the racist legacy of our history, with prohibitions on voting by felons serving to exclude large numbers of potential voters, disproportionately minorities. It should be mentioned more than it is that these techniques also work to the disadvantage of poor whites. Political scientists Walter Dean Burnham and Thomas Ferguson point out: "In Georgia in 1942, for example, turnout topped out at 3.4 percent (that's right, 3.4 percent; no misprint). Why is no mystery: the Jim Crow system pushed virtually all African-Americans out of the system, while the network of poll taxes, registration requirements, literacy tests and other obstacles that was part of that locked out most poor whites from voting, too. Since the civil rights revolution, turnouts in the South have risen fitfully to national levels, amid much pushback, such as the raft of new voter ID requirements (though these are not limited to the South)."
Minorities, poor, and even substantial segments of the working class are further disadvantaged by efforts to defund the labor opposition. Unions have been the one big money source that Democrats had available, but as the party from Bill Clinton on increasingly became a kind of neoliberalism light, embracing corporate trade agreements with a little bit of job training assistance thrown in, unions lost members, many corporations forced decertification elections. Democrats lost not only financial resources but also the ground troops that had mobilized their voters.
One result of and partial driving force behind these changes is that both parties become big money parties. Burnham and Ferguson-( December 2014)- The President and the Democratic Party are almost as dependent on big money - defined, for example, in terms of the percentage of contributions (over $500 or $1000) from the 1 percent as the Republicans. To expect top down money-driven political parties to make strong economic appeals to voters is idle. Instead the Golden Rule dominates: Money-driven parties emphasize appeals to particular interest groups instead of the broad interests of working Americans that would lead their donors to shut their wallets.
As David Stockman, President Reagan's Budget Director once all but confessed, "in the modern era the party has never really pretended to have much of a mass constituency. It wins elections by rolling up huge percentages of votes in the most affluent classes while seeking to divide middle and working class voters with various special appeals and striving to hold down voting by minorities and the poor."
Challenging this bipartisan money driven establishment becomes even more difficult as state level ballot access laws are notoriously hostile to third parties. Add to this the private, deceptively named Presidential Debate Commission, which specializes in depriving even candidates about whom large segment s of the population are curious access to the widely watched debates. Unfortunately the celebrated voting reform proposal, HR1, though containing some democratic initiatives such as early voting and automatic voter registration, makes it own contribution to economic and political consolidation. Bruce Dixon, editor of Black Agenda Report, maintains that only two provisions of this bill are likely to become law and both are destructive: "by raising the qualifying amount from its current level of $5,000 in each of 20 states to $25,000 in 20 states. HR 1 would cut funding for a Green presidential candidate in half, and by making ballot access for a Green presidential candidate impossible in several states it would also guarantee loss of the party's ability to run for local offices." Dixon also predicts that some Democrats "will cheerfully cross the aisle to institutionalize the Pentagon, spies and cops to produce an annual report on the threat to electoral security.
Dixon maintains:"Democrats are a capitalist party, they are a government party, and this is how they govern. HR 1 reaches back a hundred years into the Democrat playbook politicians created a foreign menace to herd the population into World War 1, which ended in the Red Scare and a couple of red summers, waves of official and unofficial violence and deportations against US leftists and against black people. The Red Scare led to the founding of the FBI, the core of the nation's permanent political police.... Fifty years ago these were the same civil servants who gave us the assassinations, the disinformation and illegality of COINTELPRO, and much, much more before that and since then. HR 1 says let's go to the Pentagon and the cops, let's order them to discover threats to the electoral system posed by Americans working to save themselves and the planet."
Dixon is surely right that both parties are capitalist parties, but capitalism itself has taken different forms. New Deal and neoliberal capitalism had far different implications for working class Americans. The New Deal itself was heavily influenced by Norman Thomas and the socialist tradition. In this regard, if what Paul Wellstone used to call the democratic wing of the Democratic Party wishes to see its ideals translated into practice, it must resist efforts to exclude third parties or to deny primary opponents an even playing field.
I am not claiming that there has been a carefully coordinated conspiracy among the individuals and groups that supported these policies, but leaders did act out of a general animus toward popular movements that further reinforced their reverence for corporate markets, and the faith in markets drove the worries about popular movements.
One positive conclusion to be drawn is that if this attack on democracy exists on several levels, activism might be fruitful in many domains and may have a spillover effect. Unions are still not dead, and there is a fight now for the soul of the Democratic Party and that fight might stimulate voter access and eligibility reforms. These in turn could reshape the party's orientation and ideology. Even at the Federal level Dark money is worrisome to many voters and could be an incentive to mobilize for better disclosure laws. There are ample fronts on which to fight and good reason to keep up the struggle.
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Reviving an effort made nearly 20 years ago by Paul Wellstone, the late Democratic senator from Minnesota, U.S. Senator Cory Booker (D-N.J.) introduced legislation on Tuesday that would put a check on "the ever-increasing levels of corporate concentration" in the food system.
S.3404, "The Food and Agribusiness Merger Moratorium and Antitrust Review Act of 2018," is backed by organizations including ActionAid USA, Farm Aid, the Institute for Agriculture and Trade Policy, and the National Farmers Union, and would put an 18-month pause on large agribusiness, food and beverage manufacturing, and grocery retail mergers, and also establish a 12-member commission tasked with probing the causes and effects of such concentration and suggesting regulation to ensure fairness of competition in the market.
"Consolidation has now reached a point where the top four firms in almost every sector of the food and agriculture economy have acquired abusive levels of market power," Booker said in a press statement Wednesday. "As a result, the U.S. is losing farmers at an alarming rate, agricultural jobs and wages are drying up, and rural communities are disappearing."
Wenonah Hauter, executive director of Food & Water Watch, hailed the measure as "groundbreaking" and "a crucial step to busting up the 'Foodopoly' in which a handful of players drive food policy in the service of Wall Street, not Main Street."
The bill illustrates some of the factors that "are driving small family farmers out of business." As noted in the text:
"This bill would put a much-needed pause on the largest, most consequential acquisitions and mergers in the food and agriculture sector, and give Congress an opportunity to update our antitrust laws in order to better protect America's farmers, workers, consumers, and rural communities who are being harmed by the ever-increasing levels of corporate concentration," Hauter added.
Helping to craft the bill was the Organization for Competitive Markets (OCM), a Lincoln, Nebraska-based think tank and advocacy group fighting corporate concentration in the food system.
"We need Congress to act now to stop mega-mergers until their full impact can be assessed and market safeguards put in place," stated Joe Maxwell, executive director of OCM.
"Farmers are being squeezed at both ends by corporations with abusive levels of power, from the sellers of inputs farmers need to the buyers of farmers' goods," he added. "There is simply no profit for the farmer who actually raises and grows the food. Today, farmers are forced to farm for government subsidies and not for the market."
What happens in state capitals after this year's November 6 election is far more likely to bring real change to America than what happens in the nation's capital in Washington, D.C. That's not an excuse for neglecting federal election contests this fall. But it is an argument for taking what happens in the states a whole lot more seriously.
In recent years, engagement with local and state electoral competition has suffered due to the nationalization of our politics, a trend accelerated by the nonstop media circus known as the Trump Administration. Yet the biggest political stories of 2019 might be coming from Augusta and Annapolis and Albany. The states, which former Supreme Court Justice Louis Brandeis once referred to as "laboratories of democracy," could be pivot points toward a progressive future.
A new Democratic Party will be on the November ballot, one that unequivocally rejects austerity, proposes an urgent timeline for addressing climate change, and unapologetically aligns itself with organized labor and civil rights groups.
Let's imagine that the 2018 election cycle maintains the pattern of midterm wave elections that reject the party that prevailed in the previous presidential election. This pattern developed in the 2000s and has held steady since then. In 2004, Republican George W. Bush was reelected with relative ease, and then in 2006 Democrats swept to big victories in Congressional and state races. In 2008, Democrat Barack Obama won big, and then in 2010 Republicans made historic gains in federal and state contests. In 2012, Obama was reelected by a comfortable margin and then in 2014 Republicans consolidated their hold on Congress and extended their control of the states.
If this pattern is predictive, then the first election following Republican Donald Trump's narrow 2016 victory (he actually lost the popular vote but prevailed on the margins in the Electoral College) should be favorable to the Democrats. Add in the destabilization of the Republican Party by Trump's erratic leadership and frequent embraces of extremism--and a huge departure rate among Congressional Republicans (including House Speaker Paul Ryan) who are not seeking reelection--and there's a good case to be made that Democrats will take the U.S. House and even things up in the U.S. Senate.
That will check and balance Trump, but not necessarily turn the course of the federal government. In part that's true because of the timidity of Democratic "leaders" including Nancy Pelosi and Steny Hoyer, who have already signaled that impeachment is off the table (just as they did when Democrats took charge in the middle of George W. Bush's second term).
Also, because so many Democratic seats are up for grabs in 2018, the Senate could remain in Republican hands or be so narrowly split that conservative Democrats and Republicans could thwart progressive advances, just as they did during so much of Obama's presidency. And, barring a major plot twist in special counsel Robert Mueller's storyline, Trump is likely to cling to his perch in the White House.
But on the state level, there is a much greater prospect for meaningful, progressive change. The Republican gains of 2010 and 2014 could begin to be reversed in the swing states of the Great Lakes and the Upper Midwest. The red states in the remainder of the country could see a surge in anti-Trump and anti-Republican voting. And states where Democrats are in a strong position could realize the promise of a progressive turn that extends from Bernie Sanders's 2016 presidential run.
In current swing states, such as Iowa, Wisconsin, Michigan, and Florida, progressive Democrats could well win crowded primaries and then replace rightwing Republican governors. And in the very blue states on the east and west coasts, a new crop of progressive Democrats could take charge. Consider New York, where actress and activist Cynthia Nixon is mounting a bold primary challenge to Democratic Governor Andrew Cuomo, a conniving corporatist who makes some liberal noises at election time but invariably governs from the corrupt center.
Nixon's "for the many, not the few" challenge to Cuomo will, by the time the September 13 primary takes place, be the nation's premier fight for the soul of the Democratic Party. Should she prevail, along with lieutenant governor candidate Jumaane Williams (who, like Nixon, is endorsed by the insurgent Working Families Party), then a new kind of Democratic Party will be on the November ballot.
It will be a party that unequivocally rejects austerity, proposes an urgent timeline for addressing climate change, and unapologetically aligns itself with organized labor and civil rights groups in the fight for justice and equality. Put a pair of activist leaders with a history of linking movements to politics in charge of New York, the country's financial and media center, and the potential for a transformational politics emerges immediately. Instead of waiting for gridlock to break in Washington, D.C., the change will begin in Albany.
Riding a 'Blue Wave' into control of statehouses across the country, making red states blue, blue states bluer, and implementing a progressive agenda is not a pipedream; it's the exact inverse of what happened in 2010.
Similar battles will be playing out in state capitals across the land. In St. Paul, Denver, and Sacramento, a new generation of activist progressives could take over from more cautious Democrats. In Springfield, Lansing, Des Moines, Augusta, Atlanta, and Phoenix, left-leaning Democrats could take over from rightwing Republicans this year.
The vast majority of governorships--thirty-six out of fifty--are up for grabs in 2018, as are the overwhelming majority of down-ballot state constitutional offices (including increasingly important attorney general and secretary of state posts) and state legislative seats. If the "Blue Wave" that even some conservatives now predict does indeed hit this year, the politics of Republican hegemony and Democratic compromise could be swept away at the same time.
This could make it possible, by the spring of 2019, for major progress on a number of state-based campaigns. A $15 minimum wage. Massive extensions of Medicaid (and perhaps even single-payer plans like those favored by California Lieutenant Governor Gavin Newsom and other Democratic gubernatorial contenders). Fully funded public schools and tuition-free college. Legalization of marijuana and criminal justice reform. Fair elections and voting rights and an end to gerrymandering.
The change could be so dramatic that the national media might finally recognize that there is more going on in the United States than Donald Trump's latest tweet.
This is what Democrats, if they are smart (and let's admit they aren't always), should be aiming for. It's the clearest way to recapture lost ground--besides losing control of Congress and the majority of governorships, Democrats lost 968 state legislative seats during Obama's two terms--and it's a goal they might reasonably achieve.
Riding a "Blue Wave" into control of statehouses across the country, making red states blue, blue states bluer, and implementing a progressive agenda is not a pipedream; it's the exact inverse of what happened in 2010, when conservative Republicans rode a wave election to historic gains across the nation. That conservative victory created gridlock in Washington, D.C., yet it allowed Republicans to unleash a new wave of partisan gerrymandering and other rightwing legislation in the states.
The Republicans picked up six governorships from the Democrats in 2010, but that was only the start of the story. In a number of red states, relatively moderate Republican governors were succeeded by fire-breathing conservatives. With a massive assist from the sophisticated political operations developed by the billionaire Koch brothers and their network of major donors, doctrinaire ideologues swept down-ballot races for attorney general, secretary of state, and state legislative seats.
Suddenly, Republicans were in their strongest position in the states in decades and they didn't let this opportunity go to waste. Freshly elected governors, including Scott Walker in Wisconsin, Rick Snyder in Michigan, and Sam Brownback in Kansas, immediately began to dismantle not just public education and public services, but the infrastructure of democracy. They employed computer-assisted gerrymandering schemes, passed draconian voter ID laws, and restricted early voting and same-day registration. They pushed through preemption laws that tied the hands of local officials. They launched debilitating assaults on the rights of public employees to organize unions. They adopted "right-to-work" laws that undermined the ability of organized labor to counter corporate power.
There is now an entire literature devoted to the transformation of the states in the 2010s--a change that saw Republicans signing suddenly ubiquitous "model legislation" generated by the Koch-funded American Legislative Exchange Council.
As Wisconsin's Walker put it, "We didn't just do stuff on the margins. We did fundamental, transformational things that will really make a difference." How big a difference?
It's entirely fair to suggest that the attacks on unions and on voting rights in Wisconsin and Michigan played a pivotal role in tipping those states--which had not supported a Republican presidential nominee since the 1980s--to Donald Trump in 2016. And it's equally fair to suggest that the governing style of Trump and his Republican allies in Congress borrowed several pages from the take-no-prisoners, make-no-apologies approach of such Republican governors as Walker, Michigan's Snyder, and Maine's Paul LePage. These measures also gave aid and comfort to lower-level officials elected in 2010, including Kansas Secretary of State Kris Kobach, the anti-immigrant voter-fraud fabulist who would go on to serve as vice chair of Trump's ill-fated Commission on Election Integrity.
This is why getting serious about the states matters so much for progressives who care less about petty partisanship than they do about big-picture agenda setting and policy making.
That today's Republican Party is crueler and more unusual than any previous incarnation of the former "Party of Lincoln" is not merely a reflection of Donald Trump. It is a reflection of the influence of Walker, Snyder, Kobach, and other Republican state officials elected since 2010.
A year after the 2016 election, "Never Trump" conservative columnist Max Boot observed, "What most troubles me about Trump's presidency is the extent to which he is dividing Americans by race and ethnicity in service to his own political ambitions." Fair enough; it is certainly true, as Boot suggests, that "Trump took a divided nation and instead of trying to heal those divisions, he has exacerbated them." But Trump did not invent this politics. It was Wisconsin's Walker who famously explained his governing vision to a billionaire supporter shortly after his election: "You use divide and conquer . . . . That opens the door once we do that."
Many of the Republican-wave governors of 2010 are being term-limited out of their jobs, like Michigan's Snyder and Ohio's John Kasich, or have been bumped up to positions on the Trump team, like South Carolina's Nikki Haley and Iowa's Terry Branstad.
But Walker is running for reelection this year, and is certain to face a tough fight. There are more than a dozen contenders in the August 14 Democratic primary, including state Superintendent of Public Instruction Tony Evers, Madison Mayor Paul Soglin (one of the first urban leaders to endorse Bernie Sanders for President), Firefighters union leader Mahlon Mitchell, and Blue Jean Nation activist Mike McCabe (profiled by The Progressive in 2015).
In April, after a progressive beat a conservative to take an open state supreme court seat for the first time in almost a quarter century, Walker tweeted: "Tonight's results show we are at risk of a #BlueWave in WI."
That wave could crest in states far beyond Wisconsin, where the evidence already suggests that Democratic prospects are rising.
Democrats have scored sporadic wins in special elections for federal posts since Trump took office. They fell short in high-profile U.S. House races, like Jon Ossoff's ill-fated bid to win former Health and Human Services Secretary Tom Price's Georgia seat, as well as contests in Montana, Kansas, and South Carolina to fill the seats of Trump picks Ryan Zinke, Mike Pompeo, and Mick Mulvaney. And they scored narrow wins with Senate candidate Doug Jones in Alabama and Pennsylvania House candidate Conor Lamb.
But the opposition party has done much better in special elections for state legislative seats. In late April, after a series of special-election wins in New York State, national Democratic Legislative Campaign Committee executive director Jessica Post announced, "Democrats have now flipped forty legislative seats from red to blue since 2016, and you know what, we're not at all sick of winning yet." She went on to talk about "rebuilding the Democratic Party from the ground up" in a way that "will set Democrats up for success in the decade following 2020 redistricting."
Redistricting is important, and a U.S. Supreme Court decision expected this summer could create a much fairer process. But even under the existing maps, the Democrats have a good chance to make major gains in many states. "We're only sixteen seats away from flipping eight chambers," notes Post. And if a Blue Wave actually hits in 2018--when eighty-seven of the nation's ninety-nine state legislative chambers (with 6,068 seats) are up for grabs--it could flip a lot more.
This is why getting serious about the states matters so much for progressives who care less about petty partisanship than they do about big-picture agenda setting and policy making.
The most dim-witted strategy that any party can embrace is that of trying to chart a narrow course to victory. That's what Democrats did in 2016, when the party placed too much emphasis on winning the presidential election by securing a predictable pattern of blue states and blue-leaning "swing" states. When Trump picked off a group of Midwestern and Great Lakes states (Iowa, Ohio, Michigan, Pennsylvania, and Wisconsin) that had backed Obama in 2008 and 2012, it was all over.
That wasn't the first time cautious Democrats eluded victories that could have been secured had the party gone big. And the party could make the same mistake in 2018, by putting too much emphasis on federal races and too little on the states.
Expanding the focus to the states requires Democratic leaders to stop trying to control the leftward evolution of the party by promoting drab, centrist candidates who look and act too much like the Republicans they are trying to upset. The great lesson from the party's breakthrough wins in 2017's off-year elections in Virginia and New Jersey was that the best strategy is to say yes to a more diverse field of candidates--women and people of color, immigrants and members of the LGBTQ community, progressives and democratic socialists.
The great lesson from the party's wins in Virginia and New Jersey was that the best strategy is to say yes to a more diverse field of candidates.
Already, there are some hopeful signs. In Arizona, Arizona State University professor David Garcia, who is mounting a gubernatorial bid on a platform that promises to make college tuition free for all Arizona students, has emerged as the frontrunner for the Democratic nomination and has actually polled ahead of Republican Governor Doug Ducey, a Koch acolyte, in several surveys.
If Garcia were to break through, he could well bring with him a Democratic slate that includes attorney general candidate January Contreras, who promises to join other states in challenging Trump Administration agendas on such issues as immigration. A former policy adviser to Janet Napolitano, the state's most recent Democratic governor, Contreras promises to work with other activist Democratic attorneys general to defend the promise of the Deferred Action for Childhood Arrivals program.
"With the liberty of 28,000 of our state's inspiring young people at risk," Contreras has said, "this is a legal fight that Arizona should be a part of."
Attorneys general across the nation have filed lawsuits to prevent the federal government from cracking down on sanctuary cities and asking a Census question on immigration status. And they are suing the Federal Communications Commission for doing away with net neutrality and the Environmental Protection Agency for not controlling methane emissions and for rolling back achievable fuel efficiency standards.
Candidates running in states once written off by the Democrats are mounting serious campaigns in 2018. Much attention has been paid to Democrat Stacey Abrams, the former minority leader of the Georgia House, who is seeking "to build a brand-new coalition we haven't really seen in a Southern state"--a coalition of energized African American voters and white liberals that could make her the first African American woman governor in the nation's history.
There are also historic campaigns being run by Native American women. Idaho state Representative Paulette Jordan, a Coeur d'Alene tribal member, is running for governor of her state, and Minnesota state Representative Peggy Flanagan, a member of the White Earth Nation of Ojibwe, is seeking the Democratic nomination for lieutenant governor this year.
Flanagan is the founder and director of the Native American Leadership Program with Wellstone Action, a group founded to carry on the work of the late Minnesota Senator Paul Wellstone. In 2016, she became the first Native American woman to address a Democratic National Convention from the podium. This year, she says, "We'll have an opportunity for people of color, indigenous folks, those from marginalized communities, to have a seat at the table."
Across the country, first-time candidates with tremendous life experience are mounting state-based campaigns that push the boundaries of politics and hold out the potential for much bolder and more immediate change than can be expected from Washington, D.C. Many of them are wrestling for control of Democratic ballot lines, and ultimately for a chance to define the party as a more progressive and activist political force. Not all will win. But those who prevail have a chance to do more than merely shift the electoral balance. They can initiate fundamental change.
Ben Jealous, the former president of the National Association for the Advancement of Colored People, has been one of the nation's most prominent campaigners for abolishing the death penalty, the expansion of voting rights, and an end to mass incarceration. He announced his candidacy for governor of Maryland this year with a declaration: "It is time for us to dream again. It is time for us to get back to making big dreams real again."
It's going to take some time before that's an option in Washington, D.C. But Democrats could be dreaming big dreams and doing big deeds in state capitals across the country by next January.
But even as her latest persistence is quite clearly causing ongoing frustration with some in her own party, Sen. Elizabeth Warren (D-Mass.) over the weekend continued to denounce a bill that would loosen restrictions on some of the nation's largest banks and urge her senate colleagues--including the 17 Democratic caucus members who voted to advance the measure last week--to vote against the proposal when it comes up for a final vote as early as Monday.
"The #BankLobbyistAct," Warren declared in a tweet on Sunday, "rolls back the rules on the biggest banks in the country and increases the chances of another taxpayer bailout. How can any Senator vote for that?
Appearing on both NBC's "Meet the Press" and CNN's "State of the Union" on Sunday morning, Warren reiterated her opposition to the bill, warning that it would undo key safeguards for some of the very same large banks that in 2008 helped plunged the nation into recession and crash the global economy.
Watch her response to questions from journalist Jim Acosta about the bill, and the support it is receiving from Democrats, on CNN:
Last year, Warren famously spawned the #ShePersisted hashtag on social media after she was silenced by Senate Majority Leader Mitch McConnell on the floor of the Senate during the confirmation battle over Attorney General Jeff Sessions.
Speaking with NBC's Chuck Todd, Warren did not shy away from her critique of the pending banking legislation and--though she did not name names--made it clear she has little patience for those she views as siding with Wall Street banks over American consumers and the broader health of the economy.
"Look, I don't understand how anybody in the United States Senate votes for a bill that's going to increase the likelihood of taxpayer bailouts," Warren said.
While noting how the legislation could lead to increased discriminatory lending practices and loosens capital controls in a way that puts the wider economy at risk, Warren said, "I think that we do better as a country and we do better as a Congress when we're there to fight for working people and not for Wall Street banks."
Writing in the Guardian on Sunday, columnist Ross Barkan remarks, "perhaps it's not so surprising that the Democratic establishment hasn't learned the lessons of its failure. In an economy hollowed out by the Great Recession, legacy Democrats lurch, occasionally, in a populist direction before retreating to where they are most comfortable: doing favors for the rich in exchange for campaign donations."
To highlight the bill's major shortcomings, as Common Dreams reported, Warren last week put forth 17 amendments for the legislation in order to make sure it would not threaten U.S. consumers or threaten the economy. As Bloomberg reports Sunday:
Warren champions the progressive wing's position, arguing that rolling back the rules would leave Americans at risk in another major crisis. Her proposed changes include ensuring banks that received more than $1 billion in bailout funds remain highly regulated, imposing penalties on credit bureaus that were hacked and preventing employers from asking job applicants for credit reports.
On Saturday, Warren posted the following video to Twitter in which she described the bill as "madness" and "greed run wild":
And late Friday, Warren posted another video featuring the late Paul Wellstone--the progressive U.S. senator from Minnesota who died in a plane crash in 2002--as he gave a floor speech in the late 1990s during which he similarly tried to warn colleagues (unsuccessfully, it turns out) against repealing the Glass-Steagall and other Wall Street regulations:
Not alone, but certainly leading the charge, most of Warren's Senate Democratic colleagues, as well as Sen. Bernie Sanders (I-Vt.), also oppose the bill.
"Unbelievably," Sanders said Friday, "Congress right now wants to deregulate some of the same banks that helped cause the 2008 financial disaster. That is really unacceptable."
And Sen. Sherrod Brown (D-Ohio), has also been a vocal leader against the legislation. Last week, pushing back against the false argument that the bill is simply designed to help "regional" and "community" banks, Brown said, "If we want to help community banks, let's help community banks. We don't have to give big banks more just because they ask for it."
Questions about President Donald Trump hit a fever pitch this week following his tweets about the size and potency of his nuclear button. Of course, such questions are nothing new. Throughout the campaign and Trump's first year in office, news articles, op-eds, and tweets critical of him have routinely deployed words such as "crazy," "insane," and "unstable" as epithets. But what are the implications of the use of mental health language in such critiques for how our society views mental illness?
I sat down with Rebecca Cokley, a senior fellow for disability policy at the Center for American Progress, to discuss this.
Rebecca Vallas: So I've had conversations with a lot of folks who say "Why does it matter? People can use all kinds of language but isn't this just about people being a little too PC?"
Rebecca Cokley: I'm going to read a quote from Leslie Templeton from the Women's March Disability Caucus. She just posted a series of snapshots of news clips talking about the mental status of Trump. She said, "When you read stuff like this, having said issue yourself, it makes you feel small. It makes you feel inferior, it makes you feel weak. Not only do I feel like my rights are being attacked by Trump, I feel who I am is being attacked by the American people."
These are people's lives. The accusation of someone's unfitness to serve in any sort of role--whether as a parent, a colleague, a boss, an educator--is impacted by the slightest accusation, especially around mental health. It's not about someone being PC or not, it's really about a lack of understanding of the impact of labeling someone without irrefutable proof.
RV: So there's a connection being made between his negative behaviors and his unpopular policies that people are explaining by this labeling. You're saying that by extension people who themselves have mental health disabilities, mental illness, intellectual disabilities, and so forth are being implicated in these negative behaviors.
RC: Definitely. I also think one of the challenges with all these armchair diagnostics is that the people that are doing it aren't even clear on what a mental health disability is. We sit there and see articles titled like, "Can someone with the attention of a kitten on crack make a decision?", "Trump has social autism," "Trump has a dangerous disability." People still like to think about the other, the unknown, the shadow in the corner of the room, the thing we don't talk about, versus acknowledging that it's your son seeking therapy, it's your best friend who is grieving the loss of their mother, it's your boss who is now taking anti-anxiety meds. It's much easier to castigate those folks than to say, "No, these are real people, and in some cases even me."
'We can conclude that the president is unfit to serve without armchair diagnosis'
RV: There's a particular significance of this conversation having to do with the presidency or really with any elected office. It's basically gospel that people with mental illness or mental health disabilities are unfit to serve. If someone has ever sought treatment--whether for depression or for substance misuse--even just that can stop someone from being taken seriously as a potential candidate. So in reinforcing this kind of narrative around what mental illness is and tacking it onto Trump's face, there is a much deeper consequence that a lot of people aren't thinking about that has to do with maintaining the status quo or even taking us backwards in terms of representation by people with disabilities in elected office.
RC: Definitely. When we're talking about people with disabilities writ large we're talking about 54 to 58 million people. If you're zooming in specifically on people with mental health disabilities or mental illness, we're talking about 10 million people in this country. And I think as we're talking about Trump, it really is much easier to point at "mental fitness" than to actively talk about behaviors. That's uncomfortable, because it forces us to be specific: What are the behaviors that we've seen? What are the behaviors that are evident in this person's history that we should be pointing at to say "we screwed up here." We dropped the ball, we elected somebody who was unfit to become president of the United States.
Besides, we have a history in this country of electing people with disabilities. Right now we can look at Sen. Tammy Duckworth (D-IL) and Rep. Jim Langevin (D-RI) as people with physical disabilities that are currently serving in government.
RV: Your examples point out that people would not be looking at Trump and saying "man, his disability makes him unfit to serve" if it were a physical disability--that's something that people at their core would understand would be deeply offensive. But if it's a mental illness, all of a sudden that seems to be equivalent to unfitness to serve.
That brings us to something you often talk about, what you refer to as "a hierarchy of disability." And what this means in the policy context, for example, is that it has been a lot easier to get health coverage if you're a person who has a physical illness or a physical disability than it is to get mental health coverage. But that conversation is rare when it's about social perceptions and stigma. I think what we're seeing here is this massive gap between the trust that a lot of people in this country have for the potential leadership or decision-making by people without disabilities or people with physical disabilities, compared with people who have mental health disabilities or mental illness or intellectual disabilities and so forth. Am I right to characterize it that way?
RC: I think you're definitely right. I'll even use myself as an example, being a little person. I walk in the room and you can tell that I'm a little person. Nobody is going to object to me asking for a stool or jumping on the chair to push the chair down. But for a long time I wasn't as out about having obsessive compulsive disorder and it wasn't something I frequently talked about until I was in my 20s. I was actually challenged by a friend and mentor of mine, Andy Imparato, who is very outspoken about having a mental health disability. When Andy and I were on a four-hour car ride from Washington, D.C. to Newport News for the Virginia Youth Leadership Forum, there were two topics of conversation: One, why haven't I proposed to my then-boyfriend, now husband and two, why don't I talk about having OCD?
We had a conversation about why I was hesitant to talk about it, and why I had put myself out as an advocate, as a spokesperson, as somebody working in the disability space, but I was not coming to the table with my whole self there. And so I tried it that night. I addressed the fact that I walk in the room as a little person and that's a privilege. And I often don't think we talk about disability as privilege. There is a privilege to my existence as a person with a physical disability. There's a privilege to the fact that unlike 80% of disabled people, I grew up in a family just like me.
And then I addressed the fact that I also have Obsessive Compulsive Disorder and I used to wash my hands like 200 times a day. The number of young women who came up to me afterward was amazing. It was about 50 young women that pulled me aside that all wanted to talk about mental health disabilities. The fact that I had a job, the fact that I was in a relationship, the fact that I was being paid to go around the country and talk to other young people with disabilities, and the fact that I was working on a presidential campaign at the time were huge.
So I think a lot of times when we have internally stigmatized our own mental health disabilities and then we face a public that criminalizes mental health, without any criminal behaviors associated with it. We do it for no more reason other than to say that you don't like somebody, for no more reason than to say that somebody is evil or you don't agree with their decisions. It invalidates a part of their humanity, and makes it that much harder for folks to come out.
RV: I want to get to the solutions part--how we do better. You talked about the importance of precision in language. What's your advice to those folks who are out there wanting to be good allies on this?
'It invalidates a part of their humanity, and makes it that much harder for folks to come out.'
RC: I think checking in on your friends that have mental health disabilities and saying, "Hey, how is it going? Do you need anything? How are you feeling in this time?" And doing some real deep listening as to what people are encountering, because it's hard right now. I think also connecting to organizations that work with folks with mental health disabilities, whether it be groups like Dan Fisher's Psych Survivors Network or certain chapters of the National Alliance on Mental Illness that are doing some really good things. Engage to see what needs to be said, what is the right language to use, and ask your friends. So much of our language gets caught up on the fear of saying the wrong thing versus taking five seconds and asking your friends what's the right thing to say.
I also think, as long as we continue to hold mental health at arms length as "the other," we can't have the conversation that we really need to be having. That leads to the criminalization of mental health and the knee-jerk reaction of saying, "Oh, that person can't do that job because they're nuts."
RV: I want to read a tweet by Julia Bascom, Executive Director of the Autistic Self Advocacy Network. She says, "We can conclude that the president is unfit to serve without armchair diagnosis or violations of medical ethics. We can resist racism, totalitarianism, and a nuclear threat without ableism. We don't need this, we can do better, progressives have a moral obligation to do better." Powerful words. But it feels to me that that piece of call-to-action language doesn't quite go as far as some people are wanting to go, especially given the conversations about invoking the 25th Amendment. So I would love to hear any suggestions you have about how people can handle these kinds of hard and honest conversations when folks are looking for guidance about how they can actually engage in this conversation but in a way that is not ableist.
RC: I think going back to the last line of Julia's tweet, progressives have a moral obligation to do better. We are the party that came up with mental health parity in health care, thanks to former Senator Paul Wellstone. We are the party that is pushing for the U.N. Convention on the Rights of Persons with Disabilities. We are the party that is pushing to end sub-minimum wage programs for people with disabilities. We are the party that is pushing to increase access to mental health services on college campuses and programs for young people with mental health disabilities. Why are we then at the same time being so quick to use disability diagnosis as a weapon? Because we don't like the president and we think the president is acting like a jackass. If President Obama wasn't afraid to say Kanye was a jackass, why can't we say that President Trump is being a jackass?
One of former U.S. Senator's Paul Wellstone's favorite slogans used to be, "I'm for the little fellers, not the Rockefellers."
When Donald Trump was running for President, his slogan could have been: "I'm the Rockefeller for the little feller." At every event, he extolled the virtues of being a fat cat who essentially switched sides to work for the mice.
"What self-funding means is that I'm not controlled by the pharmaceutical industry. I'm not controlled by lumber. I'm not controlled by electric. I'm not controlled by anybody--I'm controlled by you," Trump said during a 2016 rally in Racine, Wisconsin.
As for everybody else, Trump said, "They're politicians. They get their money from companies . . . . They're not going to do the right thing for you. They're going to do the right thing for the [foreign] country and the right thing for their lobbyist and the right thing for their special interest, but they're not going to do the right thing for you. Believe me. I know it."
At another rally in Council Bluffs, Iowa, Trump declared that, unlike Hillary Clinton, he was "taking on big business and big media and big donors. We're taking them on for you."
And remember how investment bank Goldman Sachs had, in Trump's estimation, "total control over Hillary Clinton" and none over Trump? "I don't want their money," he said. "I don't need their money."
Now, only ten months into Trump's presidency, it's obvious just how hollow Trump's economic populism was. His administration is chock-full of Goldman Sachs executives and corporate executives. And even though corporate profits are already at record highs, Trump is on the verge of signing a tax-cut package that will overwhelmingly benefit large corporations and the one percenters who control them.
Recently, the Trump Administration announced new rules to let restaurant owners intercept and keep a waiter's tips and allow airlines to not disclose baggage fees. Oh, and you know that long list of fine print in credit card agreements? Trump wants to allow companies to use this language to screw you over and then prevent you from suing in response.
But all that is small potatoes compared to what Team Trump is about to drop on us in a few days, when it deep-sixes "net neutrality" rules.
Right now, the Internet is allows users to "surf" wherever they want, with all sites having equal access--accessibility is, by rule, neutral. Imagine, though, if only some sites were accessible with just a click, while others took forever to load?
That's soon to be the new normal. Without net neutrality rules, which Trump's appointees to the Federal Communications Commission are poised to destroy, Internet providers will be able to sell accessibility in a way similar to how a supermarkets sell shelf space to big companies.
For example, let's say you like to buy things on Etsy, but your Internet provider doesn't get any "shelf space" money from Etsy, but it does from Amazon and e-Bay. Surfing on Amazon and e-Bay will be really quick, while Etsy would be really slow.
And it's not just buying stuff that will be affected. Most people now get the lion's share of their news from the Internet. Imagine a world where only the deep pockets can afford to pay for fast load times. What would happen to small, independent outlets, like the one you're reading right now?
Almost every facet of our lives is tied up in the Internet. More people now watch TV via the Internet than from cable providers. It's how most modern communication takes place.
And all that is about to fundamentally change.
It's hard to imagine a better example of a President siding with the Rockefellers over the little fellers, than with the gutting of net neutrality. It's the coup de grace of a President whose promise to fight for those little fellers has been exposed time and again as a lie.
The current controversy over whether to dismantle statues of some prominent Confederate figures is a battle over whom we admire and consider as heroes. It is also a battle over who has power to shape how we view our history.
"Many of those people were there to protest the taking down of the statue of Robert E. Lee," President Donald Trump said last month after the struggle in the streets of Charlottesville, Virginia. "So this week, it is Robert E. Lee. I noticed that Stonewall Jackson is coming down. I wonder, is it George Washington next week? And is it Thomas Jefferson the week after?"
In May, the New Orleans City Council declared monuments of Lee, Confederate President Jefferson Davis and Confederate Gen. P.G.T. Beauregard public nuisances and had them removed. In August, Baltimore Mayor Catherine Pugh ordered Confederate monuments removed from the city's public spaces. Maryland Gov. Larry Hogan, a Republican, directed the dismantling of a statue in front of the State House of Roger Taney--a Supreme Court justice who was chief author of the 1857 Dred Scott decision that ruled that African-Americans could not be American citizens. Earlier this month, in response to student protests, Yale University renamed Calhoun College--a residential complex named for John C. Calhoun, a senator from South Carolina, vice president and influential advocate for slavery--Hopper College, after Rear Adm. Grace Murray Hopper, a computer pioneer and naval officer. To buttress the symbolism, Yale removed a portrait of Calhoun from a dining hall.
Shouldn't we also honor the organizers, activists, artists, writers, athletes, judges and occasional elected officials who fought to make the United States a more humane and inclusive country? The New York Times recently published a list of the Confederate monuments that are now subject of controversy in cities across the country.
Not surprisingly, most monuments celebrate political, business and military figures. You can criss-cross the country and find statues, schools, government and university buildings, museums, parks, and streets celebrating presidents, senators, governors, jurists, inventor-entrepeneurs, founders of major corporations, generals and fallen soldiers. But our veneration of them often comes at the expense of recognizing other citizens who had a major role in shaping our nation's history.
Shouldn't we also honor the organizers, activists, artists, writers, athletes, judges, and occasional elected officials who fought to make the United States a more humane and inclusive country? What about the pioneers who built movements and gave voice to the struggles for women's suffrage, protecting the environment and consumers, putting an end to lynching, giving workers the right to form unions, and pushing for a progressive income tax, a federal minimum wage, old-age insurance, the 8-hour workday and government-subsidized health care and housing?
When they first advanced their ideas, they were considered impractical idealists, utopian dreamers or dangerous radicals. Now we take these ideas for granted. We all stand on their shoulders.
To create a partial catalogue of monuments celebrating progressive figures, I've drawn on the people profiled in my book, The 100 Greatest Americans of the 20th Century: A Social Justice Hall of Fame. I've identified statues located in public places (but not busts of heads or paintings, parks or public buildings), celebrating these progressive figures.
The list focuses on people whose influence was primarily during the 20th century--so Tom Paine, Daniel Shays, Harriet Tubman, Frederick Douglass, William Monroe Trotter, William Lloyd Garrison, Mother Jones, Elizabeth Cady Stanton, Henry Demarest Lloyd, John Muir, Ida Wells, Terrence Powderly, Thorsten Veblen and Jacob Riis, among other radicals and reformers, are not included.
A Short Tour of Monuments to Progressives
A statue of Tom L. Johnson, the progressive mayor of Cleveland from 1901 to 1909, is located in Cleveland's Public Square.
A statue of Robert M. La Follette Sr., the progressive Wisconsin governor and senator, sits in National Statuary Hall in the US Capitol. A number of public schools throughout Wisconsin are named for La Follette.
Crusading lawyer and Supreme Court Justice Louis Brandeis adorns the campus of Brandeis University in Waltham, Massachusetts. Besides the university, many public schools--including high schools in New York City and San Antonio--are named for Brandeis.
Attorney Clarence Darrow spent most of his career defending radicals and labor activists, but he's most famous for defending evolution in the famous Scopes Monkey Trial. A statue of Darrow sits on the lawn in front of the Rhea County Court House in Dayton, Tennessee. It was dedicated on July 14, 2017 and sits opposite the statue of William Jennings Bryan, who beat Darrow in that controversial case.
This statue of Theodore Roosevelt on Roosevelt Island in the Potomac River across from Washington, D.C. is one of many statues and schools named for the trust-busting president. You call also visit three national parks in honor of the environmental president.
The name of progressive philosopher and school reformer John Dewey adorns public schools in Denver; New York City; Warrensville Heights, Ohio; Flint, Michigan and elsewhere, but there are no statues with Dewey's likeness.
A sculpture of urban reformer Jane Addams, the first American woman to be awarded the Nobel Peace Prize (1931), can be found on the campus of Cal State University in Fresno. Schools in Seattle; New York City; Bolingbrook and Moline, Illinois; Long Beach, California and other cities are named for the founder of modern social work.
Students in Sacramento can attend Hiram Johnson High School, and the public can visit the state office building in San Francisco named for the progressive governor, but there are no statues celebrating his life.
A statue of scholar and activist W.E.B. DuBois is located at his alma mater, Fisk University. The main library at the University of Massachusetts in Amherst, a physics building at Fisk University, and dormitories at the University of Pennsylvania and Hampton University are named for DuBois. Public schools is Chicago, Baltimore, Wake Forest, N.C., and elsewhere are named for him, too.
This statue of Alice Hamilton, a crusading physician who founded the modern field of occupational health, sits in Headwaters Park in Fort Wayne, Indiana.
A middle school in New York City is named for Robert F. Wagner, the progressive New Deal senator who led fights for workers' rights and public housing, but there are no statues erected to honor him.
These statues of Eleanor and Franklin Roosevelt at the Roosevelt National Historic Site in Hyde Park, New York are among the many statues and schools named in their honor. A stunning recent addition to the collection of memorials is The Franklin Delano Roosevelt Memorial along the Potomac in Washington, D.C.
A 12-foot-high, 4-ton statue of Albert Einstein is set at the entrance to the headquarters of the National Academy of Sciences in Washington, D.C. Einstein is holding a paper engraved with the equations for his major scientific contributions. There are dozens of other Einstein statues in the U.S. and around the world and many schools named after the famous scientist and socialist.
This statue of the pioneering and fearless birth control advocate Margaret Sanger, with a gag over her mouth, stands in Old South Meeting House in Boston. There are no schools named for the controversial socialist and feminist.
A monument to John L. Lewis--leader of the mine workers union and later the Congress of Industrial Orgnizations (CIO)--sits in Monongahela Township, Greene County, Pennsylvania, on a site where 37 coal miners lost their lives in a mine explosion in 1962. There's another statue of the brilliant orator and labor leader at the John L. Lewis Mining & Labor Museum in Lucas, Iowa.
Several statues of Helen Keller portray the socialist, feminist and pacifist as a young girl learning how to speak, like this one located in Tewksbury, Massachusetts, of Keller and her teacher, Anne Sullivan. The Keller statue in National Statutory Hall in the US Capitol in Washington, DC shows her at a pump, where she spoke her first word, "water." There are many schools around the country named for the founder of what is now called the disability rights movement.
There's no sculpture of consumer and labor activist Frances Perkins, but the US Department of Labor building and the Frances Perkins Academy in New York City are named for the first female Cabinet secretary and a crusading New Deal reformer. However, the governor of Maine recently tried to have the Frances Perkins Conference Room in the state capitol renamed in view of her pro-labor stance.
Famed New York City Mayor and congressman Fiorello La Guardia sits in the Greenwich Village section of New York City. New York's La Guardia High School is one of the premier arts high schools in the country.
Norman Thomas High School in Manhattan and the Norman Thomas '05 Library at Princeton University are named after the leader of the American Socialist Party and frequent presidential candidate, from the 1930s through the 1950s. A plaque at the Princeton library reads: "Norman M. Thomas, class of 1905. 'I am not the champion of lost causes, but the champion of causes not yet won.'"
Swarthmore College named a dormitory after suffragist leader Alice Paul, a graduate of the college. Montclair State University in New Jersey has also named a building in her honor. And you can pay homage to Alice Paul and other women's rights luminaries at the National Park Service's Belmont-Paul National Historic Site.
An apartment building in Philadelphia bears the name of Sidney Hillman, the founder and president of the Amalgamated Clothing Workers of America and a key backer of FDR's New Deal program.
A. Philip Randolph, civil rights and labor leader and leader of the Brotherhood of Sleeping Car Porters, sits in Boston's Back Bay Train Station. Another statue of Randolph was erected in the concourse of Union Station in Washington, D.C. Schools in Jacksonville, Florida; New York City; Philadelphia and Atlanta are named in his honor. Jacksonville renamed one of its streets A. Phillip Randolph Boulevard and an A. Philip Randolph Pullman Porter Museum is located in Chicago's Pullman Historic District.
Statues of the radical Minnesota Depression-era Farmer-Labor Party Gov. Floyd Olson, including one in front of the Minnesota State Capitol in St. Paul, have been constructed throughout state.
Dorothy Day, founder of the Catholic Worker movement, sits outside St. Mary's Catholic Church in Colts Neck, New Jersey. Another Day statue can be found in front of the Solanus Casey Center in Detroit. Dormitories at Lewis University in Romeoville, Illinois, the University of Scranton in Scranton, Pennsylvania, and Loyola University in Maryland are named in her honor. Broadway Housing Communities, a supportive housing project in New York City, opened the Dorothy Day Apartment Building at 583 Riverside Drive in 2003.
The name of actor, activist, singer and linguist Paul Robeson adorns public schools in Chicago, Philadelphia, New York City, and New Brunswick and Trenton, New Jersey. In 1976, the apartment building on Edgecombe Avenue in the Washington Heights section of Manhattan where Robeson lived during the early 1940s was officially renamed the Paul Robeson Residence, and the street was renamed Paul Robeson Boulevard. The main library at Rutgers University, Robeson's alma mater, is named for him. There are no statues, but many busts of Robeson, including this one at Central State University in Wilberforce, Ohio.
The people of Yakima, Washington honored their native son, Supreme Court Justice William O. Douglas, with a statue in front of Davis High School, his alma mater.
The Los Angeles Unified School District named a school in Wilmington after Harry Bridges, the longtime left-wing leader of the International Longshore and Warehouse Union. There's a bust of Bridges in San Pedro, Los Angeles' waterfront district, and the union is currently seeking a home for a newlycompleted statue.
A statue of Langston Hughes--poet, novelist, playwright, short story writer and columnist--sits in the Watkins Community Museum of History in Lawrence, Kansas. Schools in Lawrence; East Orange, New Jersey; Baltimore; Chicago; New Orleans and Fairburn, Georgia are named for Hughes.
New York City named a school after left-wing congressman Vito Marcantonio, who represented Harlem in Congress from 1934-50.
The Ella Baker School in Manhattan, serving pre-K to eighth-grade students, is named for the civil rights organizer.
There's a statue of Theodor Geisel--whose children's books, under the pen name Dr. Seuss, took aim at bullies, hypocrites and demagogues--on the campus of the University of California-San Diego, not far from the Geisel Library.
In 2010, fans of William J. Brennan, Jr., unveiled a statue of the Supreme Court justice in front of the Essex County Hall of Records in his hometown of Newark, New Jersey. William J. Brennan High School, named for the author of many far-reaching decisions including Roe v. Wade and the Miranda rulings, is located in San Antonio, Texas. The historic Hudson County Courthouse in Jersey City, New Jersey, which had opened in 1910, was named the William J. Brennan Court House in 1989.
Schools named for Rabbi Abraham Joshua Heschel, the theologian who was active in the civil rights and anti-war movements, are located in New York, Los Angeles and Toronto.
A statue of environmental crusader Rachel Carson was dedicated in Woods Hole on Cape Cod, Massachusetts in 2013. Schools named for Carson are located in New York City; Chicago; San Jose, California; Herndon, Virginia; Gaithersburg, Maryland; Sammamish, Washington and Beaverton, Oregon.
Riverfront Park in Wheeling, West Virginia is home to a statue of Walter Reuther, longtime president of the United Auto Workers and a founder of the modern labor movement. Walter Reuther High School is part of the public school system in Kenosha, Wisconsin and Walter Reuther Middle School is located in Rochester Hills, Michigan.
A statue of Thurgood Marshall--the courageous leader of the NAACP Legal Defense Fund, lead lawyer in the Brown v. Board of Education case and the first African-American justice on the U.S. Supreme Court, stands in front of the State House in Annapolis, Maryland. Another Marshall statue stands in front of the federal courthouse in Baltimore. High schools in San Francisco; Dayton, Ohio; and Missouri City, Texas are named for Marshall.
There's probably no progressive American with more monuments in his honor than Martin Luther King Jr. His name adorns many schools, streets, buildings and statues, including this one on the University of Texas campus in Austin. You can also visit the National Park Service memorial to Dr. King along the banks of the Potomac.
The West Chester (Pennsylvania) Area School District named its newest high school after native Bayard Rustin, a key organizer in the civil rights movement who coordinated the 1963 March on Washington.
Okemah, Oklahoma honored its most famous native, folk singer Woody Guthrie (who wrote "This Land Is Your Land") with a statue in its downtown area. Another Guthrie statue is located in Washington state near the Grand Coulee Dam, the subject of several Guthrie songs.
A statue of civil rights activist Fannie Lou Hamer was unveiled in her hometown of Ruleville, Mississippi in 2012. Fannie Lou Hamer Middle School and Fannie Lou Hamer Freedom High School are located in the Bronx section of New York City.
The Los Angeles Dodgers unveiled a statue of baseball legend and civil rights activist Jackie Robinson outside Dodger Stadium in April 2017. There are also statues in Brooklyn; Pasadena, California; Jersey City, New Jersey; Daytona Beach, Florida; and Los Angeles on the UCLA campus honoring the Hall of Fame player who broke baseball's color line in 1947. Schools in Milwaukee, New York City and elsewhere also are named after Robinson.
A statue of Malcolm X can be found in the former Audubon Ballroom in Harlem, the site of his 1965 assassination.
Chavez Plaza at California State University San Marcos includes a statue dedicated to Cesar Chavez as does the University of Texas at Austin. There are public schools named for the leader of the farmworkers movement in Portland, Oregon; Coachella, California; Phoenix and many other cities.
New York City is home to Harvey Milk High School, named after San Francisco supervisor and the first openly gay man to be elected to public office in the United States. A bust of Milkis located in San Francisco City Hall.
Missing Monuments
You won't find statues of some of the nation's most influential radicals and reformers. We may stand on their shoulders, but we can't stand on their statues, because they don't exist.
Here are just a few of those who aren't commemorated in any substantial way: Eugene V. Debs, Florence Kelley, Victor Berger, Charlotte Perkins Gilman, Lincoln Steffens, Bill Haywood, Emma Goldman, Lewis Hine, Upton Sinclair, Rose Schneiderman, Roger Baldwin, Myles Horton, Harry Hay, Saul Alinsky, Virginia Durr, Carey McWilliams, C. Wright Mills, I.F. Stone, Bella Abzug, Betty Friedan, Arthur Miller, Jane Jacobs, Jerry Wurf, Barry Commoner, Pete Seeger, Howard Zinn, Michael Harrington, William Sloane Coffin, Allard Lowenstein, John Kenneth Galbraith, Ted Kennedy, Muhammad Ali, Tom Hayden, and Paul Wellstone.