 The New York Times says that 2020 saw the largest protest movement in U.S. history, with polls suggesting that anywhere between 15 million and 26 million people participated in various protests over the summer and into the fall. I think for many people this was viewed as a turning point in the ongoing struggle for racial justice, particularly in the movement for Black lives that had seemed to be in a lull after the election of Donald Trump — 2020 was a kind of wild, roaring affirmation that Black lives matter. There has been very little protest since then, though, certainly nothing on the same scale. So what happened? Why do you think those protests with millions of people on the streets did not produce the kind of change that people thought it would?

My frustration with The New York Times calling this the largest movement is that it conflated the number of people going into the streets in the United States with organization. Organizers at Dream Defenders and elsewhere realized that those people weren’t absorbed into organizations in such a way to build campaigns toward eliminating some of the kinds of violence that put them into the streets in the first place. What is exciting is that the 2020 protests also made abolition and defund the police mainstream conversations, which I think is huge. Those ideas were met with a lot of curiosity. A lot of people learned about abolition through podcasts, through tweets, and through articles. Organizations, especially Black organizations, are grappling with what can be done with all of that energy that was on the streets. I think a lot of people were excited about defund and abolition but weren’t necessarily connected to a political home that was able to transform that mobilization into strategic organizing.

And then I think people were just up against a lot, in terms of reforms being offered as a solution. They were up against the George Floyd Justice in Policing Act, which felt like a real solution that people think at least is something; or they saw that some cities decided to take funds away from the police. They didn’t anticipate that Florida and Texas would try to make it illegal to defund the police and take that power back.

There’s a resource issue, knowing, again, that sometimes we’re up against The New York Times, which let Bill Bratton say that we have “defunded the police,” which isn’t true. Sometimes we’re up against fascists who are banning books; sometimes we’re up against liberal politicians pushing bad policies like community policing. People who tout reform as a more “realistic opportunity” to make social change have resources to push those reforms — more resources than people with more radical ideas about how to change the world. In 2020, I think some people went to the streets because it was anti–police violence but also anti-Trump. Now you have Joe Biden as president. Trump isn’t there anymore as a polarizing figure to resist. And now the new people who were in the streets have to figure out how to fight for causes when Democrats are in office, because there is a lot of “anyone blue will do”— but how do we hold them accountable? How do we push the people we mobilize to think and organize long term, beyond electoral politics?

 Definitely agree that there’s a resource issue. But I think there’s also a more basic tactical issue. You can protest your way to making an issue politically important and attention-grabbing: People talk about policing more and in more charged ways than 10 years ago. We have the mobilizations in the streets to thank for that progress, obviously alongside the organizers who have been keeping consciousness alive between eruptions.

But there’s still the question of who decides what the issue’s importance means and what systemic responses are going to fly — questions that usually get settled well after the protests themselves have been repressed. And that’s the stage when organization really matters. To me, this is why unions are so crucial to making any of this work — not because they are magic or because every member of every union has perfect politics — but because unions are one example of an organization with strategic options that many other kinds of organizations don’t have. They have a group of people who can decide, in democratic processes, what the group’s demands are — politicians don’t get to pick their favorite protest sign and just decide what the protest is really about, as we’ve seen post-2020. If those demands aren’t met, they can respond by withholding something that the people on the other side of the negotiating table want and need, rather than just writing clarifications insisting that the other side has misunderstood why people were picketing or what “defund” or “abolish” really means.

These are the advantages that explain why unions are so potentially politically powerful and have been crucial to movements for justice historically — why they were so pivotal to dismantling Jim Crow, why Dr. King was shot while he was linking up with them. To be clear, other kinds of organizations can play this kind of role too: attacking banks and politicians with debtors’ unions, going after energy companies with ratepayers’ unions, going after landlords and developers with tenants’ unions.

It also shows us what trouble we’re in now that unions are on the defensive. Less than three months after President Biden signed a bill shutting down the rail workers unions’ strike, there was a catastrophic derailment outside of East Palestine, Ohio, that spilled potentially deadly toxins into the air. Train safety had been one of the 

 the unions were pushing for. But corporations like 

, the rail company responsible for the derailment, continue to 

profit. At this point of the climate crisis, who really thinks this is going to be the last environmental disaster enabled by protecting big business’s right to risk all of our lives?

The important part is being able to decide on and build power together, and to do so by using leverage and not just expressing displeasure to people who don’t care. The stronger the organizations are that can do that, the better off we’ll be. Exactly like Derecka said: It’s organization that lets you do this in a stable way alongside and in between spontaneous uprisings.

I want to ask about the resistance. Some of what you all describe are internal debates within the given movement. Should we accept the George Floyd Justice in Policing Act as some means of change, or do we need to do something more radical? So there are those debates. But there’s also tremendous resistance from the right. I’m wondering if you could talk about that, because even as 2020 looked like a high point of resistance to the ineptitude of the response to the pandemic — and to this monumental racism — it also was a moment of mobilization for the right that has gathered momentum in the months since. Most of that looks like the attacks on what they describe as critical race theory, which is part of a discussion about institutional or systemic racism. The attacks on the 1619 Project, which is being literally banned in schools in some states. Derecka, you mentioned the Dream Defenders, who are based in Florida, where Ron DeSantis has created what historian Khalil Gibran Muhammad has described as a laboratory of fascism. A lot of those political attacks have been directed at either trans teenagers or the study of Black people, Black history, anything about contemporary Black America. What do you think the right is doing? Why have this particular response, and what do you think is significant about it?

Protesters outside the U.S. Supreme Court while the justices consider Donald Trump’s Muslim travel ban in Washington, D.C., on April 25, 2018. Photograph by Yuri Gripas/Reuters, via Redux.

 When the Muslim ban happened in 2017, do you remember the protests? Another thing also happened that I thought was very fascinating. Donations to the A.C.L.U. exploded. Legal organizations became the vanguard for how to resist white supremacy. If you look at these bans targeting queer and trans kids and families, who are prevented from getting gender-affirming care, the way that people are responding is to outsource the resistance to lawyers and have them go fight: donate, sue in court, threaten to file an injunction. I think that outsourcing resistance lets fascism flourish because then it becomes a problem that we are not confronting with mass mobilization and organization. Instead we’re telling people to let lawyers, legislatures, and the courts work it out.

Do we need a legal strategy? Of course. But we need mass resistance by everyday people. We need to go to the libraries where people are banning books to say, “Absolutely not. We’re not going to allow this.” We need strategic, disruptive, direct action. We need protests to push back and to show in numbers that this is wrong. I fear that we now just expect a lot of lawyers to do that work. That makes me particularly nervous because the right wing has taken over the courts and several facets of government. You have lawyers who are afraid to bring lawsuits in federal court because of the Supreme Court. How do we reconcile that with what’s been happening since 2017 — the urge to simply donate to the Legal Defense Fund, donate to the A.C.L.U., donate to other legal organizations to go fight — instead of the kind of mass mobilizing we experienced in 2020 as forms of broader resistance to what’s happening?

And along with the anti-trans bills, alongside banning critical race theory, we have also witnessed since 2014, when Michael Brown was killed, the criminalization of dissent, the introduction of laws to remove access to health care and food stamps for people who decide to go and protest. Some states have passed legislation that have enhanced protections for police, so that police have become essentially a protected class. We are up against states criminalizing dissent, and states banning and criminalizing the ideas that encourage people to think differently and act more courageously about the world, all while Biden calls on Congress and states to give more money to the police and increase the number of cops on the streets by 100,000. Who do you think will be enforcing the criminalization?

It’s also worth pointing out that what we’ve seen on the right are just the latest outcomes of an extremely long-term organizing strategy. Derecka, you mention the takeover of the courts — the Federalist Society started incubating the legal careers of the people who would control the Supreme Court decades ago — for at least one justice, as early as the 1980s. ALEC, the American Legislative Exchange Council, formed in the early 1970s and has been laying the groundwork since then to mobilize police violence against the exact kinds of protest that Manuel Esteban Paez Terán, also known as Tortuguita — a forest defender who was killed by state troopers in January — and comrades were doing in Atlanta against Cop City. The right wing is ahead of us by decades, not just by dollars.

But what do we do? I had not thought about the way the different levels of governing are working here — Trump spent the entirety of his presidency packing the courts with young conservatives, unqualified right-wing judges, who are just there on ideological missions. Then you see Republicans across the country just doing blatantly unconstitutional, illegal things, in hopes of sparking lawsuits that go to these corrupt courts, taking a local issue and making it national. And then the only recourse within this framework is to the reactionary, undemocratic, monarchical Supreme Court. It seems like liberals have played right into this by deciding, We’re just going to sue, we’re going to file a lawsuit here and file a lawsuit there. It is a sophisticated web that has entangled people who think that because these things are so outrageously unconstitutional, of course we must challenge them and get them off the books. But instead it becomes more complicated because of the shape of the judiciary. So what do we do?

 In early February, I had an event with Amna Akbar, Bernard Harcourt, and Cornel West. We discussed Dr. West’s law-review article on the role of lawyers and progressive social movements that he published in the 1990s. What he says in that piece is that lawyers need to continue to fight defensively, to protect and safeguard the rights that we have struggled to secure over time, and remind people about the suffering that we had before those rights. But we, lawyers and the public, have to understand that litigation is not the most radical intervention we all can make; it’s just a very specific role for some lawyers to protect what we already have. To me, it makes a clear case for movement lawyers to be supportive of and in political homes with grassroots organizations who engage in mass resistance to state violence. But we also need to do what Grace Lee Boggs and James Boggs call us to do, which is to project — and then build — the alternate vision of the society that we want. I’ve been thinking about that over the past couple of weeks. I think broadly, for people who care about freedom and justice, we can’t be afraid and should be encouraged to be more explicit in our bold ideas about the society that we deserve.

We have to identify and condemn hypocrisy and the criminalization of our ideas. When I hear liberal and corporate Democrats criticize defunding the police and abolition because they say they are losing electoral seats — and go on to sign resolutions that condemn socialism — it’s as if they almost blatantly ignore that whatever sort of language or narratives they use in their campaigns, the right is going to paint it as the most radical thing ever. You cancel a measly $10,000 in student debt, it’s “socialism,” so you may as well just cancel it all — it can’t be that much more “socialist,” right? But Dems pretend that student-debt cancellation and abolition are narrative issues; they hide behind language to obscure why they don’t support the substantive reasons that lead members of the public to organize for these causes. They are not interested in social transformation, and they benefit personally, professionally, and politically from the status quo. So we must be much more energetic, powerful, strategic, experimental, and organized.

We need to continue to explicitly name the radical ideas that we’re struggling for and to take time, as many organizations do, to be in conversation with the public through political and popular education; through art in various mediums; through media that explains what we mean when we say socialism, abolition, feminism, internationalism. We’re struggling and fighting for these concepts, right? So what are they? Why do they exist? Where are people experimenting with them? We need to use these spectacular incidents of violence that have brought people to the street as an opportunity for everyday door knocking, canvassing, and reaching out to people to strengthen our bases. This is why I’m so excited about what Dream Defenders is building, because we need a national membership-based organization that organizes people and invites them to think more critically about politics and what they could be. They can go on to put pressure on the establishment through electoral politics, through protests, through mutual aid, and building alternatives.

Rep. Cori Bush (D-Mo.) rallies hundreds of young climate activists in Lafayette Square on the north side of the White House to demand that President Joe Biden work to put the Green New Deal into law on June 28, 2021. Photograph by Chip Somodevilla, via Getty Images.

We have to train people to engage in all kinds of direct action, train people to vote, train people to run for office, and train people to organize. These are not my ideas. These are the conversations I’m having with other organizers, with other human rights lawyers, with scholars, with artists, because not only do we have to think about what we need to do, we have to take the risk and go experiment and try it! And then evaluate, and try again. It is an iterative process. But I think one beauty of that, part of the Black radical tradition that makes me and my work possible, is knowing that we’re not doing that alone. We have to do that not only with people across state borders but in deep solidarity with people who are resisting other kinds of fascism across international borders and learn from their struggles — be in conversation with and think critically about what’s happening in India, in Brazil, in South Africa. We have to be ready to understand and also see ourselves as students of movements who are rejecting the kinds of fascism and neoliberalism that we see in other parts of the world and who are embracing new kinds of relationships and potential futures for us all.

 It’s a tough predicament. Unlike the people whose interests they’re protecting, we don’t have the luxury of ignoring the short term to focus only on the long game — the movement is fighting against murder and caging and evictions and deportations, not the very livable disappointment of getting stuck in a job at a lower federal court. But I think we can probably all agree that the legal organizations, whether the Legal Defense Fund or A.C.L.U., are not the organizations that are going to get us over the finish line. So it’s worth figuring out which fights can do double duty — which organizations we can support that will help build long-term power while and through fighting the needed short-term campaigns. I’m glad that we get to hear from KC Tenants in this issue, because that definitely seems like the kind of organizing that could do both.

I’m teaching a course on the civil rights movement right now, so I’ve been reading a lot about tactical questions, questions of strategy and social movements. The legal strategy versus the mass movement was so profound in the civil rights movement. The N.A.A.C.P., of course, championed a legal strategy that targeted Jim Crow laws; just the whole legal edifice in the South was an affront to the 14th Amendment. So the N.A.A.C.P. believed that the movement should let the lawsuits work their way through the courts to have a more secure victory. But King, and the activists in SNCC [Student Nonviolent Coordinating Committee], argued that the legal strategy makes no sense without a mass movement. In other words the 14th Amendment had been the 14th Amendment for nearly 100 years by 1965. And that didn’t matter, even after the Voting Rights Act. Often histories of the civil rights movement or this period of the 1960s almost immediately pivot outside the South after the Voting Rights Act — we go elsewhere, we go to Watts, we go to the urban rebellions in the North. But if we stay in the South, you see that even though the law changed, there was not the kind of transformation where the law was this on Tuesday, and on Wednesday all the new regulations went into effect. And we thought we overcame; we were singing “We Shall Overcome.” The law doesn’t matter if people aren’t on the ground, making its enforcement reality. King makes a particular point: that the legal strategy relies on the passivity of those who are most impacted by these decisions. Because you’re telling people to wait for the courts to solve this question, wait for the law to change. And meanwhile, you know, life is hard on the ground. I think those are powerful points. 

I also think that part of the power of the protests against the Muslim ban in the winter and spring of 2017 was not just that people weren’t just sitting around waiting for lawyers, even though that may have eventually been the result, but that it did three things. One, it showed the authorities that no, you can’t just get away with this. Two, it forces the mainstream media to have not just this kind of surface, drive-by coverage but a deeper engagement with the issues bringing all of these contradictions to the surface, the main one being that we are supposed to be a country founded on religious freedom. Protests create the conditions so that people are able to see the contradictions that usually exist beneath the surface. And then third, and perhaps most importantly, is that it imbues a sense of confidence among those of us who are horrified about what the state is doing. Because it can absolutely seem overwhelming if you’re just sitting with your newspaper or watching the news. And seeing people do blatantly illegal things. This is supposed to be a country based on religious freedom, right? That is one of the core tenets in the Bill of Rights: freedom of religious association. There is no state-sanctioned religion; you’re free to practice whatever your religion is. You know this, but if there’s no one doing anything to protect it, it feels like maybe I’m not sure about what I know. Maybe no one cares, or maybe this is just the fate of our society. But when you see hundreds and then thousands of people protesting, it affirms that you know what you know. And it is a way to encourage resistance; it is a way for people to build confidence. It is a way of demonstrating that we are many. And so I feel like that combination of things is part of what we need now. I completely hadn’t thought about it until you said it, but this whole idea that we’re just going to fight this out in the courts isn’t enough.

It’s not something we can just litigate or legislate our way out of, as you both have acknowledged. I’ve been frustrated with the silence of a lot of the popular leadership in the Democratic Party — not surprised, because they are the leadership of the Democratic Party, but frustrated because they are further proof why we need mass public resistance and can’t simply vote our way out of this problem either. For example, as a gesture toward countering the fascist and racist critical race theory bans, why aren’t liberal Democrats rushing to affirm the thing that’s been banned by Republicans? Grants from the Biden administration to affirm racial justice in our schools — where’s that? Where’s that program? What resolutions are being passed to highlight the importance of Black study? Why is this the time to pass a resolution to condemn socialism? Where’s the resolution at least acknowledging “diversity” in educational thought? Because the banning of books and ideas, in addition to the silence coming from the Democratic Party, leaves even liberals feeling isolated and overwhelmed that this is happening. But when the masses are being told that the right way to approach this is to “go vote” or “go sue,” they are implicitly being told not to “go resist,” “go fight.” But that’s what we all need to do — go fight.

Florida Gov. Ron DeSantis signed HB 7, known as the “Stop Woke Act,” to ban critical race theory on April 22, 2022. Photograph by Daniel A. Varela/Miami Herald/Tribune News Service, via Getty Images.

This is where the liberal political establishment and the conservative establishment often intersect. The Democrats are more than willing to criticize DeSantis for his authoritarianism, but they don’t actually want to talk about the content of what is being banned. They don’t want to talk about critical race theory. They don’t want to talk about African American studies. They don’t want to talk about Black feminism. They don’t want to talk about the Movement for Black Lives, because it brings to the surface the same issues that the Republicans also want to avoid. Because if we deal seriously with Black history, with African American history, and nearly 300 years of slavery, 100 years of legal subjugation, maybe these Black people have a point about redress. Maybe they have a point about reparations, and maybe they have a point about the need for programmatic institutional interventions to repair the inevitable harm and financial devastation that would come from nearly 300 years of slavery and 100 years of legal subjugation. Neither party is interested in having that conversation, because that’s a trillion-dollar conversation. More than a trillion dollars goes to the military now. It doesn’t go to reparations; it doesn’t go to housing, health care, education, and all of the forms of redress that are owed as a result of nearly 400 years of legalized oppression and exploitation. So neither one wants to talk about it.

And what we get instead is, “Look at this Black woman I put on the Supreme Court. Look at my vice president, look at what I do for Black people” — which is through these individual appointments of Black people —“look at my press secretary.”

Yeah! “Look, here’s a holiday. I’ve surrounded myself with all of these Black women, surely I hear you. And I’m committed to this.” I think it’s important that we continue to polarize people who support the Democratic Party around these issues. We should help reveal how racial representation and political power are actually dichotomies presented by the Democratic Party. Do you want a Black Supreme Court justice? Or do you want student-debt cancellation for HBCU students? Because Biden promised both and reneged on the latter. Do you want him to choose a Black woman running mate so that he can keep your votes, or do you want him to champion universal health care so that you can keep your life? Do you want an additional 100,000 diverse cops on the streets? Or do you want investment and the proper infrastructure in your neighborhood to keep you and your community safe?

Biden is not the only target. We experience this directly with Black politicians, too, who are willing and excited to play into a certain kind of racial-representation politics in exchange for more transformative demands. Keeanga, you write about this so well. I think that’s such an excellent point. We have to continue to remind each other what we are owed, what we deserve, and what we can build together.

After the Uprising, What Is to Be Done?

n Jan. 20, 2009, the United States of America inaugurated its first Black president, Barack Obama. In November, the U.S. may elect its second. Does this mean anything?

One reason to think so, as New York City mayor Eric Adams reminds us: “Representation matters.” This election year we are confronted with the question of whether or not to support the possible election of Kamala Harris — as good a time as any to return to the question of what representation means and what it’s good for.

We of course needn’t focus on the highest political office in the country to revisit the perennial question of what “Black faces in high places” means politically. As Keeanga-Yamahtta Taylor wrote in 

From #BlackLivesMatter to Black Liberation

, the emergence of a Black political class has slowly developed over the past 50 years, which she describes as “the most significant transformation in all of black life.” In that book, she discusses the Baltimore protests over the police murder of Freddie Gray: “When a Black mayor, governing a largely Black city, aids in the mobilization of a military unit led by a Black woman to suppress a Black rebellion, we are in a new period of the Black freedom struggle.”

” has not turned over much of a new leaf. When Adams said, “Representation matters,” in 2021, he had just been elected the 

 of a historic all-women team of five deputy mayors. If it sounds less inspirational now, maybe you’ve been following the news: his administration has been mired in a scandal of 

 that produced the top man’s federal indictment alongside arrests of senior officials. Meanwhile, the city of Atlanta essentially 

 — printing the names and addresses of signatories to “Stop Cop City” petitions — rather than engage in the barest pretense of democracy and allow public challenge to its attempts to divert yet more land and funding to policing.

Perhaps in response to these episodes and countless others has come yet another resurgence: reminders of the 

 at the heart of the Democratic Party in particular, the fact that 

 from capitalism or its consequences, and also that voting may even be an irresponsible symbolic concession to a system that refuses to 

. Some have responded to this malaise by trying to play defense in response to electoral politics, insisting to leftists that participation in electoral politics allows you to “

 that one’s worse opponents might commit.

One way to move beyond the basic set of assumptions is asking how we could get better representatives: if we had a genuine 

 that could break the Democratic-Republican stranglehold over the shape of U.S. politics. We could try for new rules to shape the contest between political parties: 

 to change how candidates craft their appeal to voters or 

 to change how parties share power after elections from a winner-take-all system to one that splits seats between parties. But while we ask those questions, it’s worth adding another, parallel set: What if elections were different? What if we could vote directly for plans rather than representatives of 

 party? What if we could represent ourselves?

 is not some thought experiment or conceptual exercise (though, as a philosopher, I’m not above those!). Direct democracy already exists, albeit in limited forms, but those forms could in principle scale up. Here in the United States, abortion rights have already been 

 a direct democratic strategy for their defense this election season: holding referenda on abortion laws that would allow their voters to 

 California, Michigan, Ohio, and Vermont in enshrining reproductive rights guarantees into law, including amending state constitutions. “

” doesn’t have to be only a dangerous and irresponsible failure to defend reproductive justice.

In Ireland structures facilitating direct democracy won a constitutional amendment to defend 

through a Citizens’ Assembly and then a referendum. 

 to discuss and decide matters of public importance, bringing in panels of experts to inform the process. When given a chance to decide together — not as atomized individuals at a polling booth but as an organized body with responsibility to the public good — a randomly selected group of Irish people did something that surprised the world. After a year and a half of informed and careful deliberation, the group came out in support for reproductive rights and called for a national referendum on legalizing abortion. Shortly thereafter, in May 2018, an overwhelming majority of the Irish public voted their agreement, enshrining reproductive rights into law.

Another form of public direct democracy is participatory budgeting, which allows residents of an area to exercise direct democratic input over how city funds get used. The process was 

developed by the Brazilian Workers’ Party

This model has already taken hold in some places in the United States. In the aftermath of the protests against police violence in the summer of 2020, a coalition of organizing and activist groups proposed a “

” for Seattle that aimed to “transform our city budget away from one that invests heavily in policing, prosecuting, and jailing BIPOC communities, toward one that invests in building self-determined, dignified, productive and ecologically sustainable livelihoods, democratic governance, and ecological resilience.” After 

, Seattle’s mayor finally announced over $27 million in funding for initiatives chosen through the participatory budgeting process. The selected projects include funding to establish mental health specialists as first responders, potentially displacing police, and emergency youth shelters. Seattle was not just one of the 

 to move toward de facto cuts to police budgets but one of the even fewer cities to do so by direct democratic means.

Eric Adams was right about one thing: representation does matter. Elections and electoral politics are ultimately a form of deciding together, and much of what’s wrong with how elections function in our political system can be traced to whom elections empower and how. From national figures like Harris to local ones like the Atlanta City Council members, representatives have to run for office, which means they have to court big campaign donors and avoid confrontation with a well-resourced opposition. We have seen what that kind of confrontation can look like: AIPAC and its allies spent $14 million and $8 million to oust 

 for the crime of being insufficiently deferential to Israel.

The job of any elected official in a nominally democratic society involves the attempt to unify in one person the various interests of a diverse constituency with needs and goals that often conflict. It’s no surprise, then, that the usual strategies for walking this tightrope often and perhaps necessarily involve some measure of waffling or duplicity. What the specific job of the presidency adds to this predicament — beyond operating at a national scale where social conflicts are even more hopelessly irreconcilable — is the weight of the additional stakes presented by the country’s unilateral control over the world’s 

, a global intelligence and espionage network of 

 proportions, and launch codes for an arsenal encompassing 

 of the world’s available nuclear weapons. It’s no wonder that corruption, influence peddling, and elite capture result from a political decision-making process that is so heavily reliant on the whims, idiosyncrasies, and personal incentives that our representatives must negotiate.

But skepticism about how elections function and whom they empower is compatible with recognizing the 

 of direct democratic votes and decision-making. Unlike city council members, participants in citizens’ assemblies or participatory budgeting processes are not running for office. People who own homes or businesses or worship in an area might well have outsize economic interests on some questions relative to others. Under the present system, these people often organize against causes like 

 for their efforts. In a participatory budgeting system, their interests wouldn’t grant them any more votes. The shop owner, homeowner, or landlord has the same means of influencing the outcome of a participatory budgeting process that a low-wage employee or renter does: convincing other people. One reason to have confidence that we can do better than elected representatives in making sure that democratic processes run this way will safeguard the common good is that our neighbors — unlike AIPAC and other lobbies — will have to live with the decisions made.

We should understand the scale of what direct democratic procedures have so far accomplished against the sobering backdrop of the status quo. Referenda can be used 

 for the powerful to legitimize their control, especially when done in the absence of genuine public deliberation and consideration of proposals. Even when such consideration happens, as in Ireland, the question of power is paramount; Ireland’s Citizens’ Assembly officially had only an 

 role, meaning that elected representatives could have simply ignored their proposals (and the Irish are able to amend their constitution via referendum, something we in the U.S. cannot do). Even where directly democratic processes ensure that people have power over funding, the scale of that power often is dwarfed by the power the system keeps for itself. While Seattle’s participatory budgeting processes distributed some $27 million, the government of King County, which includes Seattle, operates on a two-year budget of more than 

. While direct democratic control over tens of millions of dollars is not quite a rounding error, neither is it, in its current form, as significant an existential challenge to an entrenched political structure that was perhaps hoped for during the height of the 2020 protests.

Yet we should also recognize the potential promise of direct democracy, especially working in tandem with other dimensions of struggle rather than as a substitute for them. At least some of this promise is visible in Seattle. While many cities ignored defund demands entirely, and defund measures were rolled back in cities like Austin and Los Angeles, Seattle’s progress remains. King County is now slated for a 

of participatory budgeting to decide on the use of some $11.8 million. Anyone who “lives, works, owns a business, receives services, goes to school, or worships” in one of the five areas of the county targeted in this round can enter the selection process. The range of organizations that had supported the Solidarity Budget — from the activist groups Black Collective Voices and Decriminalize Seattle to labor union locals SEIU 925 and UAW 4121 — most likely has something to do with this success. And the stronger these groups are, the greater the possibility that future iterations of struggle could deliver more serious and weighty direct democratic results.

Making political decisions by choosing which Democrat, Republican, or third party will make those decisions for us deserves just as much reconsideration as the two-party system itself. We could make decisions by direct vote or 

, or we could decide who occupies public office by 

 rather than elections. Any of these can be run better or worse, and some may fit the political and cultural circumstances better than others. But in this time of nationalized politics where spectacles and celebrities reign, it’s helpful to remember that representation matters. Maybe we should have more opportunities to represent ourselves.

The Potential Benefits of Direct Democracy and Voting for Policies, Not Personalities

The U.S. student movement in solidarity with Palestine is facing ferocious repression as the Trump administration revokes student visas en masse. Masked federal agents roam around looking to snatch students and faculty off the streets and send them to jail for their activism, including their mere beliefs. One of the students targeted is Momodou Taal, a graduate student at Cornell University who led pro-Palestine activism there and was suspended twice by the university. A dual citizen of the United Kingdom and the Gambia, he joined another graduate student and a faculty member in 

 the Trump administration for allegedly violating their First and Fifth Amendment rights by punishing speech and quashing political dissent. On March 21, Taal’s lawyers were notified that the State Department had revoked Taal’s student visa after Immigration and Customs Enforcement condemned his “disruptive action” and ICE requested that he turn himself in. Instead, Taal left the country on his own terms, “free” and with his “head held high,” and continues his struggle on behalf of a free Palestine, upholding the Pan-Africanist tradition.

Taal and Hammer & Hope editor Olúfẹ́mi O. Táíwò

 Thanks for making time to talk. Where were you when you were first politicized about Gaza in particular, and what politicized you?

 In terms of my involvement or awareness of Palestinian advocacy, the earliest recollection I have, just because I searched my name and Palestine on my Facebook and I was posting about Palestine in 2008, so I would have been 15 at the time. It’s something I’ve always kind of been aware of by way of my religion, my faith — I’m a Muslim — but also to do with a hero I looked up to, Malcolm X. My radicalization and politicization always involved Palestine because I had noticed there was a common thread, common theme between so many of the people I looked up to who spoke about Palestine. I remember in 2012, my final history paper before going to university was about Palestine as well. Ever since that moment at 15, I have constantly and continuously been deepening my knowledge about Palestine.

I’ve always had Gaza and Palestine in my mind, and it’s always been a struggle I see as the last kind of stronghold of 500 years of European colonialism. As someone who’s from the African continent and knows what colonialism has done to the continent, I see this as a crystal-clear example. Knowing that colonialism is a global system, I know that Israel is the manifestation of certain colonialism.

 How would you characterize the response from Cornell versus that of the federal administration? What explains the similarities and differences?

 Cornell is emblematic of so many other institutions right now in that they are not realizing that the capitulation to the government — they’ve been capitulating and cooperating, and saying they’re cooperating with the law — often is in contradiction with protecting their students. And it seems so far that they would rather capitulate over protecting their students. But I would say a lot of these universities are actually in lockstep with the government. If Cornell and other universities were taking a stance not to capitulate, not to give up their students, essentially, and take clear, firm stances publicly, I don’t think the federal government would have been able to get away with what they’ve gotten away with.

Cornell is letting me finish my degree remotely so far. So far, so good. That’s a good move, and these universities are trying to navigate this tense climate. The federal government is presenting a mirror to the university in this moment, to institutions, and asking them what kind of place they want to be. Universities, especially in the United States, especially in the Ivy League, have become, for all intents and purposes, businesses. The federal government has targeted that as a weakness or pressure point: They can withhold or threaten to withhold funding if universities don’t do what they want. Given that universities have such large endowments, it would be better in this moment if the universities would, rather than think about profit, think about people and think about their students in this moment, especially those who are in precarious positions.

 Earlier you mentioned both your religion and Malcolm X as a figure you learned from and look up to. Is there a connection you see between the Black struggle generally and the struggle against the genocide in Gaza? Or do you view your involvement in the struggle differently?

 It’s interesting to draw the connections. We have to constantly go back to one of Malcolm X’s last letters, from the day he died, actually: He mentioned Zionism. The official declaration that the UN adopted in 1975 that Zionism is racism was pushed by and backed by several Pan-Africanist leaders. So the struggle for Black liberation for me is inextricably linked to the struggle for Palestinian liberation, and so many of my heroes and leaders said quite emphatically that they recognize Zionism as a form of colonialism. Given that we’re still dealing with the vestiges of colonialism as a system, we recognize it for what it is and see it time and time again. For example, the police that often come back and kill Black people in the streets of the United States are trained in Israel. We find that Israel has been on the wrong side of almost every single African liberation struggle, from South Africa, from Tunisia, from Algeria. So for me, Israel has continuously been an enemy of Black people, and I’ve often held that to be pro-Black is to be anti-Zionist.

 What do you think is the potential of the student movement in the U.S. or elsewhere?

 The student movement is a sign of struggle. If we look at history, student movements have been important to the ideological struggle and keep the struggle alive in many ways. Obviously, it’s not the most important; the most important is the struggle on the ground in Gaza right now and in Greater Palestine, in historical Palestine. But student movements, mass movements have not been on the wrong side of history. This is where we are now.

 What would you say to student organizers now who are facing repression or concerned that they will be targeted, whether in the U.S., in the U.K., or on the African continent?

 I’m not the one to tell people what to do, nor to tell people how to struggle and what sacrifice they’re willing to make. But we have to sincerely have some introspection about the type of world we want to live in. Can we really live in a world in which we witness a livestream of genocide with such a level of impunity? Where every single multilateral institution is rubbished and ignored? If that’s the world we have, fundamentally, that’s the world we have to reject. And what I’ve been saying is that it’s clear that Zionism will do everything to kill. So we must do everything in our means by any means necessary to stop this.

The targeting is expected. But it depends on, for me, whether people have conviction that there will be a free Palestine in our lifetime. And if you have that conviction then you will move accordingly, and that’s how I operate, and I would hope people will have the same level of conviction as well.

 What do you say to critics who question your focus on Palestine, who argue you should be more focused on politics where you live, whether they have in mind the U.S., the U.K., or the Gambia?

 My Ph.D. is on Africa. I work on Africa. I’m a Pan-Africanist, but my Pan-Africanist struggle is a part of a global broader struggle. When we center U.S. imperialism as the primary contradiction, the destruction or the removal or the lessening of the U.S.’s ability to act imperialistically is a net positive for the colonized world. In terms of my struggle, I was in the U.S., so I focus on the U.S. I believe you should struggle wherever you are.

Momodou Taal, a Persecuted Pro-Palestine Activist at Cornell, on Black and Palestinian Solidarity

After New York State passed the Build Public Renewables Act in May 2023, Olúfẹ́mi O. Táíwò spoke with three organizers from the NYC-DSA Ecosocialist Working Group who campaigned for the legislation.

 To start off, what is public power? Why is it a big deal? Why was it an important struggle? Could you speak specifically to its implications for racial justice and class politics?

 When crises hit anywhere in this country — in the world, really — Black people are made to suffer the most. And we have a climate crisis that is not looming — we’re living in it. On top of trying to help people’s current material conditions, anything we can do to stave off the worst of the climate crisis for as long as we can is going to benefit Black and brown people who are thrown on the front lines of this. And people understand that. That’s not abstract to people. When we were doing canvasses in Gun Hill homes after Hurricane Isaias in 2020, I talked to someone about how whenever there’s a storm, they lose power. This is a low-income person, and they have to find a motel to stay in, because they are on ventilation and their mother’s on ventilation; all their kids have asthma. They’re not able to stay in that place. And when we talk about how we’re trying to rework the energy system and move to renewables, they get it immediately. A lot of climate activism does feel highfalutin, where you buy your Prius and go composting, and a lot of people just don’t do that. But when I’m tabling in the Bronx, saying, “Hey, don’t you hate ConEd?” that just connects. Everyone understands that; everyone knows their energy bills are too high and keep going up. You know there are proposed rate hikes all the time but never accompanied by improved service, so what are we paying for? Whenever there is stress on the energy grid and they have these planned blackouts, they do them in predictable neighborhoods — Canarsie, the Bronx, or somewhere like that. Not the West Village. Not Gramercy. People get it. Being able to change that reality is a direct hit on class politics.

 Socialists in New York City spearheaded the Build Public Renewables Act (BPRA) to authorize and mandate our public power authority, the New York Power Authority (NYPA), to build, develop, and own renewable energy in the state to meet the climate goals set in 2019 to decarbonize our energy system. We also wanted to create discounted utility rates for low- to moderate-income communities because people are struggling to pay their energy bills, as well as close down all of 

, which are primarily located in Black and brown neighborhoods, like where I live in Astoria, as well as the South Bronx.

Energy politics can be hard to translate, but we wanted to talk about the impact of fossil fuels on our neighbors in terms of health and environmental racism. Brandon and I live along one of the neighborhoods called Asthma Alley because of all the power plants and polluting infrastructure that were intentionally built here. In the context where our energy system is owned by private utility companies that are able to raise rates at any point, building renewable energy has to benefit impacted communities. So it was important not only to include the fossil fuel phaseout and discounted utility rates but also to connect that to everyday people’s lives and say, “If we build renewable energy, we can not only meet our goals and stave off the worst of the climate crisis in New York but also better your material conditions as a low-income person, as a Black and brown person living in these parts of New York.”

 It’s going to be really hot this summer in New York and all over the country. When it’s a hot day, we get a text message from ConEd saying, “Don’t use power.” Because our energy grid is overextended, the existing system cannot provide energy for our needs, which ironically is made worse by its reliance on fossil fuels. And everybody gets that. Everyone needs air-conditioning. We have lights in Times Square that never get cut. We have empty office buildings in midtown that are air-conditioned to 65 degrees. They never are told to stop. It’s always individual households, working families, who are told to sacrifice during these inhumane summer months. And people forget, but those are terrifying times.

 The other important aspect of our bill is that it’s a just transition bill — the AFL-CIO helped us write the labor provisions in BPRA so that any job that’s going to be created under NYPA will be a union job. For us to believe in a just transition, jobs need to be protected, and quality jobs under the public sector must be given to fossil fuel workers who are transitioning out of those jobs and also to working-class people in frontline communities.

 You talked about the AFL-CIO; you talked about canvassing in particular neighborhoods. Could you all say more about what the crucial alliances were to getting BPRA passed and how you made those alliances?

 From the start, the bill was DSA-coded; we had a lot of trouble getting the bigger climate organizations on board. We did build relationships with environmental justice organizations like 

, other DSA chapters who were with us, organizations like 

 to get labor unions and other organizations to support our bill and get it over the finish line. It’s really from the strength of us challenging power and making this seem like it was the most important climate legislation that we built strong alliances toward the tail end of our campaign. I want to give a special shout-out to not only the teachers union, UFT, which co-sponsored a rally with Representative Jamaal Bowman to call for “

,” but also 1199SEIU United Healthcare Workers East, which supports climate legislation because the union sees how health care workers struggle on the front lines of the climate crisis. It’s no coincidence that the unions that do care work and are on the front lines of their communities bearing witness to the effects of the climate crisis, especially in Black and brown communities, are aligned with the broader movement and socialist legislation.

 The unions in New York are a little bit politically and socially conservative. They don’t take bold steps. Our municipal unions were not at the front line of fighting 

, for example. So there’s a lot of risk aversion despite the fact that New York has one of the highest union densities in America — 

around 20 percent of public and private sector workers are unionized

. But many unions don’t take a progressive, frontline approach toward full policy changes, so it was difficult to get some unions on board. My union, the PSC-CUNY, which represents the faculty and professional staff at the City University of New York, 

. But we’re not 1199SEIU, we’re not 32BJ, we’re not the biggest union. We’re not the teachers [UFT, United Federation of Teachers]. The NYC teachers’ union has almost 200,000 workers. But our union is part of this broader statewide coalition called NYSUT, the New York State United Teachers. Comptroller Thomas DiNapoli announced a 

 for New York state pensions in 2020, but internal activists — local unions and members of NYSUT — continue to 

. A nice thing about a union coalition is that you can get them to pass things. But leadership may not necessarily use their political capital to support a resolution. Yet our union and other NYSUT Bernie-type folks throughout the state helped to pass a resolution in support of the Build Public Renewables Act. We got it passed unanimously at the 

, which is a big deal because now we could say, “We’ve got statewide labor support.”

 We tried really hard to build with the impacted trade unions, but we also didn’t wait for them to come around. We shifted the material conditions. We passed this piece of legislation. And now they’re like, “Let’s have a meeting. Let’s talk about this.” We were the ones who led with the policy and the vision, and now the trade unions are included in the planning and implementation process. And honestly, the role of the left is to say, “Our vision 

 include you all, and you don’t have to be with us every step of the way. But now we are here— let’s build together.” That’s what BPRA is doing: creating a path for green workers and the left to build a coalition to guarantee high-quality jobs and put more power at the hands of workers and the movement in the long term.

 You have this vision that included labor, and you didn’t wait around for them to figure that out. It’s moved forward now. And so now you’re at the stage where NYPA has this new public authority, but the way that it’s written into the budget language, NYPA has to hold public hearings on its clean energy projects. That will involve you and various unions potentially being involved in the planning stages, but NYPA is in the driver’s seat. What does the next step look like in terms of organizing to make sure that you try to push NYPA in the right kind of direction, aligned with the broader vision that BPRA came out of?

 We only got this far by organizing regular, normal people, organizing labor, organizing politicians into the vision. That’s how we got to where we are right now. So it only makes sense to keep that going. We understood that from the beginning, and it was important for there to be democracy in this process, and that requires constant organizing. It’s not like we get to a point and then we drop it off.

 We are continuing to do outreach with labor unions, so that we are aligned on what we want NYPA to do, which is to make sure that NYPA builds and that these jobs are union jobs. And we will continue organizing and building up socialist chapters across the state, so when projects are proposed, there is already a base of people who say, “Yes, we want this. We want these jobs. This is good for us and the future of our community.” We’re going to continue to pressure NYPA so that we have a firm hand on the implementation of this bill. We have to implement this thing. And that’s going to be a lot of work. So I’m aware of and feeling the burden of organizing labor and organizing people across the state to make sure this happens.

 Plenty of laws get passed in New York that don’t get implemented. The Climate Leadership and Community Protection Act that passed in 2019 was a gold standard climate change protection act. It put us at the front of the map, a better law than anything California passed, and for years, New York State didn’t do anything to implement it, which is part of one of our talking points: We haven’t passed any climate legislation in four years. This law means nothing if nothing happens behind it. But there’s a movement behind it that won’t allow the state and its agencies to just kick the can down the road, because we have nothing better to do except to be a pain in their asses until we hit our goals plus new ones, because BPRA is not enough. It’s a first step toward decarbonization; there’s so much more left to do to reach climate justice. We hit our first goal, but the goalpost just keeps moving. I’ve got two kids, and I’m like, “Why did I have two kids while the world is burning? Unless I’m actively trying to stop them from being on the front lines of the water wars 2040?” So I think that our political enemies are right to be skeptical, but they’re wrong to underestimate just how annoying we can be.

 That’s a perfect segue to the strategic power of being the right measure of annoying. I want to ask about balancing the need for alliance and antagonism. When you’re canvassing and talking to regular folks, you probably hear a range of opinions — some people are aligned with you, other people aren’t. And then the same thing was true across the different union leaderships and among the different elected officials. How do you balance the need to find some connections with people who might not have the same vision that you all had with the BPRA but also the need to be a pain in the ass to others? How do you make those decisions, coming back to Brandon’s point about movement democracy?

 In terms of decision making, this campaign has been extremely democratic. There are quarterly strategy sessions where people get together and take the lay of the land: What have we done? What have we accomplished? What remains to be done? What happens next? And we sit down and talk about them, take votes on things. You win or you lose on your particular vision, but you keep moving forward. Leadership was spread out as broadly as possible, and we were always trying to bring new people in. Not everything was nice and easy. There were some arguments. There were some tense moments, and trying to figure out how to balance things, including the actual strategy, wasn’t an easy process, but it was extremely democratic — one person, one vote, and staying together within that.

Now for the fun part, the antagonism. BPRA and public power in general is an unabashedly eco-socialist vision for how to work energy in this state, which also means that it is a natural magnet for enemies. We were trying to upend how the energy system works, so obviously we had fossil fuel corporations and all sorts of politicians who are in various pockets against us. Honestly, the ability to show power was the most important thing, and a lot of that is antagonism. Some of that is alliance building, too. How do you build alliances so you can have power to back what you’re trying to achieve? That’s where the balance is. It’s difficult to figure out how to do that. I’m naturally an attack dog; I go in on people. I help with comms. Often, I’ve tried to take a very aggressive approach against a particular target, and then someone has to say, “Hey, listen, we can’t really do that with this person, because behind the scenes they’re doing x, y, or z,” which I don’t necessarily know about. It really is about trust in the people that I’m working with, who are engaged in different parts of the campaign, who know things that I wouldn’t be privy to, so if someone tells me something, I trust and believe that they’re on top of what they’re doing. At the same time, they trust and believe in what I’m doing, too. So there’s a little push and pull there. But overall this was a bold campaign to reset people’s ideas on what was possible on climate, which made it naturally antagonistic. But there is always a need for coalition building and seeing people as partners, even in moments when they don’t necessarily agree. I do think the key to bringing everyone on board was wanting to see a just transition for workers, wanting to see workers in these frontline communities brought on board to be part of the solution. You have to want to do that alliance building. And then you have to want to attack people, too, when they get in the way.

 When we were power mapping, we did an analysis of who has power, who moves leadership within the legislature, and who is not acting on climate. And it turns out our own Senate bill sponsor is not moving our bill past committee. So all across the state we ran seven electoral candidates specifically on climate as their key issue. That was part of our calculation: if you are not moving climate legislation, you will lose your job. After our bill’s lead sponsor was primaried and won by a plurality, by less than half, then he started moving things. We came up on PowerPoint presentations that he was giving to the rest of the Senate where BPRA was presented as priority legislation. And then electing Kristen Gonzalez and Sarahana Shrestha was incredible because there was renewed energy behind this legislation. Sarahana was a Public Power organizer before she ran for office; her organizing brought a lot more legislators on board where we previously didn’t have access. As scrappy socialists who don’t have power but understand that we need to contest power in order to build it, we challenge seats and are trying to expand the state electorally so that we can implement legislation. And that’s not just for climate, it’s for everything—housing, taxing the rich, workers’ rights, decarceration, and true justice in our communities. So yeah, we did that. [

] And it was exhausting. But if we didn’t do that, we wouldn’t have gotten this far.

 In addition to primarying, there’s also a lot of shaming. There was this great 

 where I got arrested along with many other leaders. Our team created these great Venmo boards that demonstrated how much money all these electeds took from the fossil fuel industry, and some of them were so offended, like Amy Paulin. It became clear how many of our elected officials were in the pocket of the fossil fuel industry. That was an example of a very confrontational protest. We all got hit with misdemeanor charges, later dropped, because it took an hour or so to get us power-sawed out of this structure that included chicken wire and cement, so it was a big deal. I think it kind of worked as a way to mobilize our organizers to continue and feel energized about the fight.

 An important aspect of this was the outside stuff, the direct actions, the meme warfare. And there’s the inside stuff — you’ve got the stick of shaming and then the carrot of Sarahana and Kristen and all the people running the inside strategy. It seems like you are saying that was key to your success here. But I’m thinking of other parts of the country that don’t, at this moment, have allied elected officials. What parts of this are replicable in those parts of the country? Should folks elsewhere start with trying to find vulnerable places in the state legislature and try to run candidates? Do you think they should start outside and see what labor or other organizations they can get on board? What do you think folks who face a different electoral side of the power map could take from what you all have done?

 We didn’t have aligned electeds at first either. We had to create that. That’s harder to do in other places than for us. So it’s hard to say what someone should do specifically or technically. But here are the broad takeaways. People understand that we are in a crisis. People understand their own material conditions. Workers understand what will help pay their bills. Politicians understand that you can get them the hell up out of there. Playing on all of those things is how you win. However that happens from state to state, municipality to municipality, that’s different. But you have to go to the people. You have to have an aligned group of individuals with you. You can start off really small, as we did. And you have to be bold in challenging power, particularly on this issue, because we’re working with tight timeframes. We don’t have time for half measures. We don’t have time to play that game. Bold antagonism is what’s needed. And doing as much as you can to align people’s material goals with your own climate goals is the real key.

 As an organizer, I’m always like, “You’ve got to power map. You have to understand and assess your conditions, and then chart your path forward and be willing to fail and make mistakes.” But the heart of the matter is that I loved organizing with my comrades. I was changed and developed through this campaign. A lesson to come out of this, besides analysis, power mapping, and electoralism is: Take heart. Believe in your comrades, believe in the movement, and build with people. All organizing, all building, happens with people. All of our vision is implemented through people. And trust that your vision will win. And that’s not even poetic. That’s just something that you need. That’s a spiritual foundation you need to fight over the long run, and for our comrades across the country who face violence, increased state surveillance, and the rise of fascism, let’s take heart. All of our issues are connected. And there are already people who are working on these issues in a wide array of ways. So do not fear that you are alone. And build as big of a historic bloc that you can, in a Gramscian sense, to let people know that this is a mass movement.

 The bill passing changes the organizing landscape for people in other states who want to replicate or improve on this. Being able to look at New York provides better opportunities for other groups. DSA, for example, is trying to organize nationally to build this out across the country. Success breeds more success. It’s not going to be easy, but we are working as much as we can with others. Somebody just said, “Let’s get in touch with an organizer in Minnesota right now. Let’s get them to pass BPRA, if they’re going to pass all this other stuff through with a 

.” I just called somebody in Minnesota. I went there for grad school. I said, “Let’s find out how we can use our networks to spread these strategies, because every place is vulnerable and in need of these kinds of changes.”

 Is there anything that you didn’t get to say about BPRA or organizing in general?

 It took every single person to pass this bill, and we do not take that for granted. Everybody who participated in some way felt like this was building something, and it did. One day, we will win, and it takes everybody. Don’t take your comrades for granted. Love, trust, and respect the people you organize with.

 We have a lot of direct discussions with regular New Yorkers ahead of us. This summer’s going to be really hot; it’s a good opportunity for us to do the work the government should be doing, which is “Here’s the law. Here’s how it can improve your lives.” We’re going to make everyone we speak to learns what the NYPA is.

You Can Win Bold Climate Laws in Your State

On Oct. 25, 2023, Hammer & Hope, Jen Parker, and Olúfẹ́mi O. Táíwò spoke with Mohammed Nabulsi, an organizer with the Palestinian Youth Movement, and Radhika Sainath, a senior staff attorney at Palestine Legal.

To start, it would be interesting to hear more about the work of your organizations and how they view the situation in Palestine and the protests in the U.S.

We are a legal defense for the movement for Palestinian rights in the United States. We’ve been around for 11 years. We provide free legal services to activist students, professors, anyone who’s been censored, punished, or falsely accused for speaking out for Palestinian rights. I’m based in the New York City office, and we’re a small team of people.

Palestinian Youth Movement is an independent grassroots movement of Palestinian Arab youth within North America and Britain. We are located across 15 cities. Our focus is on mobilizing Arab and Palestinian youth to take a leading role in the struggle for Palestinian liberation. That typically involves building power within our local context, where our primary base is the Palestinian Arab community. The biggest stakeholders in the liberation of Palestine are the communities in the diaspora, who have been severed, both geographically and politically, from our national movement. PYM’s role is to reconnect the Palestinian diaspora and its struggle, especially youth who have been largely disenfranchised both within local institutions and the national movement more broadly. We do that through a variety of means, of which one is mobilizations — especially in this moment, that’s what we’re seeing as our main role — but it’s also through political education, cultural programming, building institutions, whether it’s associations, unions, community centers.With a common vision and strategy across the diaspora, we can leverage power we build within our communities toward political and social change.

On October 18, the Center for Constitutional Rights 

 a legal analysis that alleged, “Israel is attempting to commit, if not actively committing, the crime of genocide in the occupied Palestinian territory, and specifically against the Palestinian people in the Gaza Strip.” Do you agree? Would you put it differently? How do you think about this?

 PYM’s position, which you can see in our messaging, is that this is a project of genocide. It’s a genocidal campaign being waged on the people of Gaza through a variety of means, including a 16-year-long siege of Gaza. We’ve seen an intensification of that siege in the last two weeks, the denial of fuel, water, electricity, and medical supplies, coupled with an unrelenting bombardment on a densely populated area with nearly half of its population being children — all while the U.S. works to send more bombs. The only way to see it is as genocide, coupled with the statements by the representatives of the Israeli state calling Palestinians “human animals,” talking about how they’re going to transform the Gaza Strip into a city of tents, and various other genocidal claims being made across the spectrum politically and on every level of the political establishment within the Israeli state, calling for a second Nakba. 

 have self-identified it as a genocidal campaign. We don’t need to read between the lines to understand; they’ve made it explicit.

Unfortunately, we agree with that, too. The Center for Constitutional Rights is a close partner of Palestine Legal’s. We should take the Israelis at their word. The Israeli minister of defense called Palestinians “human animals;” he said Israel’s military will “eliminate everything” in Gaza, and there have been calls to flatten whole neighborhoods. This is genocidal language, as 

 have pointed out, and the horrific military violence against Palestinian civilians should terrify everyone. Knowing the history of how this rhetoric has been used in other mass atrocities is very frightening. We’re very concerned about what Israel will do next. It’s important that the international community urgently stop attempts to commit genocide against Palestinians.

The Center for Constitutional Rights’s analysis and both of you pointed out a number of specific roles that the United States has in aiding and abetting Israel’s military response. There’s the role that the U.S. plays as a direct military ally and funder. There’s the role the U.S. plays in preventing action in the United Nations, its role in the Security Council. And then there’s the role that the U.S. plays as a hub of a powerful media apparatuses that can work on an international level to help manufacture a legitimacy story for this. From a strategic perspective, is there a particular one of these roles that you are focusing on or that people acting in solidarity with you should focus on?

At Palestine Legal, we are domestic focused. We’re here to make sure that activists like Mohammed, whom I represented when he was a student, can speak out for Palestinian freedom. We let activists do their organizing, and as movement lawyers we think it’s important to take a back seat, to be the defense, and not to dictate or direct the movement.

For us, it’s a struggle that must be waged on every front. Direct material aid has been the focus of the Palestine movement historically, the multibillion dollars provided by the U.S. government to Israel for military aid. There’s also now a call to increase military aid to Israel. The actual bombs being dropped on Palestinians in Gaza, the white phosphorus that’s being dropped on Palestinians in Gaza, are alleged to have links to the U.S. There needs to be a disruption of that.

As far as the U.S.’s involvement in the international arena, the call for a cease-fire, which is being echoed across the Palestinian rights movement in the U.S., is being amplified by a vast majority of governments across the world. Only a handful of states — many Western nations, including former colonial powers, and their de facto client states — are opposed to a cease-fire. We’ve seen an attempt at a resolution calling for a cease-fire brought by Russia, two separate resolutions, both of which the U.S. government vetoed. There’s also been messages internal to the U.S. government that there’s not to be a discussion of cease-fire. Our priority right now is to raise the political cost of the U.S. government’s policies.

Finally, to the question of media — that’s obviously a main front of ours, to counter the narrative. A project of manufacturing consent for genocide has occurred in the media; there’s been lies and fabrications, repeated and echoed by political and public officials. We’ve had to go on a full-frontal response to that. In the PYM, we’ve organized media trainings; our members across the U.S., Canada, and Britain have engaged media. I think we’ve done up to 100 interviews, both on a local and national level. We’ve also participated in alternative media, things like podcasts, YouTube channels, journals, including leftist journals. Right now, for the PYM specifically, it’s beyond the mobilizations in the streets. It’s about reducing this fervor that exists within the media around massacring Palestinians and raising the political costs, especially for the Democratic Party’s complicity.

Pro-Palestinian protesters during a demonstration in Brooklyn, N.Y., Oct. 28, 2023.

Both PYM and Palestine Legal are directly or indirectly supporting the current pro-Palestine protests. We would like to hear more about the impact of these protests and what you expect to achieve through them. What is the strategy of both your organizations at this point?

First, it’s to demonstrate that there isn’t a consensus in support of genocide, that there are millions of people, domestically and globally, who are against the genocide of Gaza, and that this campaign is not going to be waged without fierce opposition. It’s a declaration of our position on this issue and the position of the grassroots on the streets. Second, it’s to mobilize our communities and supporters of Palestinian rights into the streets to create actual pressure. The work doesn’t end or begin in the protests on the ground — those are part and parcel of a broader set of tactics, including direct actions, media campaigns, and targeting public officials. These are the types of things these protests are meant to do. It’s also about raising the political ceiling on what our community’s calling for, placing the call for a cease-fire within the context of 75 years of occupation and ethnic cleansing. It’s also about enlisting the people who come to street protests into actual organization. A lot of the time people’s involvement ends after going to a protest. These people need to be brought into actual organizations that can maintain that energy and direct it toward targeted goals.

Just to clarify, the demand right now is obviously cease-fire. We see it as the most tangible pressure point toward U.S. policy. Because it doesn’t end at cease-fire; there’s still a 16-year siege that we’ve been waging a struggle against. There’s a 75-year ethnic cleansing campaign and settler colonial project that exists on the ground. There’s expansion of settlements, settler pogroms; there’s the displacement of Palestinians from their neighborhoods and their homes; there’s an attack on prisoners.

Something that’s been missed are two prisoners who’ve recently been abducted from the West Bank and likely assassinated inside Israeli prisons. There’s over 1,000 people who’ve been imprisoned out of the West Bank; there are thousands of Gazan workers who at the time of October 7 were actually inside of 1948 Palestine, or what is called Israel, and were arrested as part of the response to the October 7 attack. 

[Note: they were eventually released back to Gaza without money, phones, or even identity documents.]

 There’s all of this stuff happening. There’s over 100 Palestinians who’ve been murdered in the West Bank since this all started.

For us as an organization, cease-fire is obviously the immediate demand to relieve the brutality of this campaign on the people of Gaza, to allow for them to receive basic goods and medicine. We’re talking about people who are dependent on medical supplies to sustain themselves, beyond the fact that they’re being murdered from the sky. The cease-fire is the immediate call, but it’s within the broader context of calls for justice, dignity, liberation for our people.

We have been getting a record surge of requests for legal help — a tsunami of incidents. In the past couple of weeks, over 300 people have come to us for legal help.

 [Note: as of Nov. 14, that number had increased to over 600.]

 That’s what we saw in all of 2022. And it’s nonstop. We’re seeing people being fired from their jobs for saying that they support Palestinian human rights or criticizing Israel’s policies. We’re seeing Students for Justice in Palestine and other Palestinian students being threatened with violence and anti-Palestinian and Islamophobic messages. They’re being smeared as terrorists, removed from their positions, or investigated by their schools for making statements similar to what 

 made, questioning Netanyahu and Israel’s role in all of this.

So many professors are contacting us, telling us that they have been questioned or that their classes have been canceled. They’ve been locked out of email; they’re afraid of losing their jobs. Even tenured professors are afraid of losing their jobs for communications supporting Palestinian rights, which is just McCarthyite, pure and simple. We’re seeing massive doxxing efforts, naming students who have signed statements in solidarity with Palestinians, things like a “college terror list,” severe harassment, death threats, threats to careers.

The list of things that we’re seeing goes on and on. Students are afraid of getting kicked out of school for, again, engaging in regular speech activities that students should be able to engage in on campus. The chancellor of the Florida state university system released a memorandum 

 all public universities in Florida to “deactivate chapters of national Students for Justice in Palestine” on their campuses. We’re seeing this massive effort from 

 groups, from big donors, from politicians trying to stop this growing movement for Palestinian rights. We are trying to push back on that, because we do see, as Mohammed mentioned, this overwhelming support from the streets, from the grassroots, and especially from the younger generations, artists, and writers who are speaking out against what’s happening, often at immense personal risk. We are trying to make sure that people have the space to speak out against what’s happening right now.

What is Palestine Legal’s legal strategy at this moment?

We have a movement lawyering strategy where basically we think of the law as one tool to be used in the struggle for justice. Sometimes it can be an effective tool; sometimes it’s not an effective tool. Sometimes organizing or speaking out or some of the things that Mohammed mentioned is much more powerful than using the law, because we know that the law wasn’t designed for activists, but sometimes it can be useful. Often when activists come to us, sometimes there isn’t a great legal solution, and we have to tell them that. But often if there is a way to use the law that’s helpful to the movement, we try to use it. In the case of Students for Justice in Palestine in Florida, this is just blatantly a First Amendment violation. It’s just a total do-over of a Supreme Court case called Healy v. James, involving Students for a Democratic Society, that was decided in 1972. It’s just unconstitutional, period. Where the laws are useful, we’ll use them to fight back.

We are a small office. We’re based in Illinois and New York City, and we have an attorney in California, but we field cases from all 50 states, so we’re not doing this alone. We work with a lot of partners and other movement lawyers. Right now, we’re in a desperate situation to expand our attorney network. Sometimes we file lawsuits. Sometimes we’re advising people on their rights so they know what to do, and particularly students so they can be their own advocates. Or we’re writing legal letters to universities, warning them against taking a discriminatory or unlawful action against students supporting Palestinian rights.

Pro-Palestinian protesters during a national student walkout day in support of a cease-fire in Gaza at Washington Square Park in Manhattan, N.Y., Oct. 25, 2023.

Where do you see this going? Because they’re not going to stop with silencing people on Palestine. How do you understand the relationship of the attacks on pro-Palestine students with broader trends and the broader significance for free speech? Why is the right to free speech important for the Palestinian struggle and struggles beyond it?

We’ve long said that Palestine is the canary in the coal mine for rights. After the American Studies Association passed its historic academic boycott resolution in December 2013, which was mirrored after anti-apartheid boycotts against South Africa, the association was met with a slew of legal threats. The ASA was eventually sued, and in the wake of that, pro-Israel lobby groups pushed states to pass laws targeting the boycott movement for Palestinian rights.

Looking at these anti-BDS laws, we later saw that 

 was behind a lot of this cookie-cutter legislation. And of course ALEC is behind a lot of other model legislation that supports corporate power and white supremacy. Palestine isn’t alone. We can see that, particularly in Florida with what DeSantis is doing; the same people who are trying to stop critical race theory and other social justice movements or ideas from being taught in our schools are also trying to stop students from advocating for Palestinian rights or discussion about Palestine in classrooms.

If it’s true that the right to free speech is used in a defensive manner, we were wondering if the right to free speech also has a more active role supporting the struggle. How could success in the courts against repression open another path for the Palestinian struggle in general?

I do see the courts as a last resort. Hopefully, we don’t need to use them. But it’s not just a free speech issue. We’re seeing a myriad of laws being violated as far as discrimination laws, as far as universities not supporting their Palestinian students and the hostile anti-Palestinian environment at college campuses, which violates Title VI of the Civil Rights Act.

A lot of different laws are in play here. The First Amendment and free speech laws are just one subset of laws that are being broken right now in this repression campaign. We’d like to see institutions, colleges, and universities treat their Palestinian students equally, the same as other students. If you’re reaching out to support your Black students after George Floyd’s murder, if you’re trying to support your Asian students after the anti-Asian spa killings in Atlanta, why not do the same for Palestinian students whose families have been killed or are being bombed in Gaza? That’s what Palestinians are asking: to be extended the same compassion and be treated the same as everyone else. Because their lives should be valued, too, and are no less valuable than anyone else’s. The same goes for Palestinians speaking up for their rights and their supporters as well. They shouldn’t be censored or punished for taking a principled stance on a human rights issue, on a freedom struggle issue.

Universities or people in power might not like that students are calling what’s happening ethnic cleansing or apartheid or genocide, but here in the United States that’s why we have the First Amendment — it’s so that the government doesn’t punish you for your views. That’s something we’re reminding people of now as well. And if we need to file lawsuits, we will.

How are your organizations laying the groundwork for struggles into next year and beyond? What is the midterm game and the long game?

Right now it does feel like we’re in this hamster wheel of reactiveness because we’re in a moment where so many people are losing their jobs and are quite terrified. But this is only, unfortunately, the beginning. We expect more threats to the student movement, and that’s because students have been on the cutting edge of social change throughout history. That’s where we see the greatest attacks — often in the university, against the student movement, against professors and teachers but also against writers and artists. That was true during the McCarthy era. It feels like this moment is a throwback to that.

But I don’t want this to be just a downer conversation, because the reason we’re seeing so much censorship, especially at Palestine Legal, is because so many people are speaking out. And that’s really exciting to see. We’re getting calls from doctors, lawyers, novelists, professors, teachers, models, professional poker players, you name it. There’s no area that hasn’t been touched, because working people across the country are speaking out against Israel’s attempted ethnic cleansing and genocide. That’s why we’re hearing so much about the repression. It’s inspiring to see that people are fighting back and are standing up. And that’s just going to be more true. This situation can’t stand forever.

It’s a very complicated conversation to have in the midterm. We’re dealing with an assault; we’re in the middle of a really intense campaign, the fronts that we’ve already discussed. We’re responding to what’s happening but also trying to go on the offensive in terms of campaigns around specific messaging, creating pressure to stop the genocidal assault — that’s the midterm goal.

Now, during this process, we’re identifying gaps that exist in terms of infrastructure, reach, networks, etc. That assessment is happening in real time, and it’s going to have to happen after the fact. We’re going to have to look back and see what we were prepared for, what we weren’t prepared for, and what we had to work out on the fly. That’s happening regularly, especially for the PYM. It’s a democratic organization with multiple chapters. We’ve shifted our messaging throughout this period; we’ve shifted some of our tactics and strategies, and we’re kind of testing what works and what doesn’t. There’s also feedback from our communities and partners; we’re learning what they want us to amplify or what they think is an effective approach. And we’re also shifting, arguing about, or rejecting some of the approaches our community is seeking.

In the long term, the fate of Palestine — and it was signaled by what Radhika said — is the fate of the left in this country. Where the left goes, we go; our ceiling is with the left. There’s only so much support for Palestine that can exist without a broader politics around a lot of different issues. I don’t need to give a spiel about why the struggles are interconnected, but our enemy — the largely right-wing institutions and strategies — are mobilized not just against the Palestine movement, as Radhika said, but against every struggle, including the climate struggle. One of the anti-BDS clauses in Texas was mirrored and now exists around the fossil fuel industry. Like Radhika said, ALEC is the main body creating these bills, which are then brought through state legislatures. The long-term strategy is to build the broader left movements in this country around the unifying platform. I say left and not progressive, because the progressive movement wavers. We’ve seen that both in terms of the elected officials who self-identify as progressive and the broader progressive institutions. So that’s how the PYM sees it.

Now obviously, we also understand setting aside left-wing politics, which are often ideological or political in a specific way. There’s also the goal of building power among Muslim, Palestinian, Arab communities that don’t necessarily fit neatly within a left-wing framing but are one of its most important constituencies, even if those communities disagree with some of the agenda of the left. One of the things we’ve learned is the significance and importance of Islamic institutions in this country and the role that they play in a moment like this, and also just broadly Arab institutions.

Lastly, a politics of anti-imperialism and internationalism is critical to a domestic left-wing agenda. This is where we see the separation between left and progressive, where progressive movements sometimes have narrow conceptions of what progress means that don’t apply to the global south or don’t extend beyond our borders. That is also a struggle. For us in the PYM, our intervention, or our focus, is obviously with the Palestinian and Arab communities and the Palestinian struggle specifically, but we understand the breadth of struggle being rooted in a much broader front. That requires coalition; that requires collaboration, networking, and the development of a shared agenda and a shared strategy for advancing this broad front.

You just mentioned coalition. I’m wondering if there is a general federation or platform through which many different organizations — both Palestinian and anti-Zionist Jewish organizations, collectives, and legal NGOs — get together and define a common strategy.

There isn’t a broader federation or coalition where we get together and define strategies. We are in touch with different institutions engaged in this work. The movement can be divided into two categories. You have the Palestine solidarity movement; Palestinians are present within it, but it also includes nonprofit organizations. It includes solidarity formations, meaning non-Palestinian-led organizations; that includes organizations like Jewish Voice for Peace or IfNotNow. Those are the Palestine solidarity movement.

There’s also the Palestinian national movement orgs; their constituencies are Palestinian, their leadership is Palestinian. Sometimes its membership is either Palestinian Arab exclusively, like the PYM, but at the very least it’s Palestinian-led, and these types of formations not only make demands on the domestic scene or on the struggle but also have an internal politics to the direction of the national movement more broadly. The Palestinian struggle is a national liberation struggle. National liberation formations are required in our work. There’s communication and engagement across both the solidarity movement and the Palestinian national movement, but it’s not centralized. Often in crisis moments, a broad consensus or parameters develop, but that happens organically and not necessarily through direct conversation. With PYM, that happens internally to our work. We are an organization whose multiple chapters take their experiences, synthesize them, and arrive at a vision and a strategy. Then the cycle occurs where it’s brought back to the local, but nothing like that exists between organizations at this moment.

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After the Uprising, What Is to Be Done?

Issue

5

The Potential Benefits of Direct Democracy and Voting for Policies, Not Personalities

Issue

6

Momodou Taal, a Persecuted Pro-Palestine Activist at Cornell, on Black and Palestinian Solidarity

Issue

2

You Can Win Bold Climate Laws in Your State

Issue

3

This Is America’s War on Palestinians as Much as Israel’s

Issue

6

The Climate Movement Should Become a Human Movement

Issue

5

The False Narrative of Economic Anxiety

Issue

1

A Framework to Help Us Understand the World

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