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The one thing missing from Trump's Iran war that doomed every unpopular war before it

By Charles Walldorf, Professor of Politics and International Affairs, Wake Forest University.

It’s clear that regime change is among the biggest objectives of the U.S. war in Iran.

“I have to be involved in the appointment” of Iran’s next leader, President Donald Trump said on March 5, 2026.

Trump has also said he might put U.S. boots on the ground to get the job done.

Trump now joins a long list of modern U.S. presidents – from Franklin Roosevelt to Harry Truman, Lyndon Johnson, George W. Bush and Barack Obama – who started wars to either overthrow hostile regimes or support embattled friendly governments abroad.

For all the parallels to history, though, Trump’s Iran war is historically unique in one critically important way: In its early stages, the war is not popular with the American public.

A recent CNN poll found that 59 percent of Americans oppose the war — a trend found in poll after poll since the war began.

As an expert on U.S. foreign policy and regime change wars, my research shows that what’s likely generating public opposition to the Iran war today is the absence of a big story with a grand purpose that has bolstered public support for just about every major U.S.-promoted regime change war since 1900. These broad, purpose-filled narratives generate public buy-in to support the costs of war, which are often high in terms of money spent and lives lost when regime change is at stake.

Two historical examples

In the 1930s and 40s, a widely accepted – and largely true – story about the dangers of fascism spreading and democracies falling galvanized national support in the United States to enter and then take on the high costs of fighting in World War II.

Likewise, in the 2000s a dominant narrative about preventing a repeat of the Sept. 11, 2001, attacks and stopping terrorism brought strong initial public support for the war in Afghanistan, with 88 percent support in 2001, and the war in Iraq, with 70 percent support in 2003.

With no comparable narrative around Iran today, Trump and Republicans could face big problems, especially as costs continue to rise.

No anti-Iran narrative

Iran has been a thorn in the side of many American presidents for a long time. So, what’s missing? Why no grand-purpose narrative at the start of this war?

Two things.

First, grand-purpose narratives are rooted in major geopolitical gains by a rival regime — the danger to the U.S. For the anti-fascism narrative, those events were German troops plowing across Europe and the Japanese attack on Pearl Harbor. For the anti-terrorism narrative, it was planes crashing into the World Trade Center and the Pentagon.

Gains like these by rivals prove traumatic to the nation. They also dislodge the status quo and provide the opportunity for new grand-purpose narratives with new policy directions to emerge.

Today, most Americans see no existential danger around Iran. A Marist poll from March 3, 2026, found that 55 percent of Americans view Iran as a minor threat or no threat at all. And the number who see Iran as a major threat, 44 percent, is down from 48 percent in July 2025.

By contrast, 64 percent of Americans saw Iraq as a “considerable threat” prior to the 2003 U.S. war in Iraq.

The poll numbers on Iran aren’t surprising. Iran is far from a geopolitical menace to the United States today. To the contrary, it’s been in geopolitical retreat in the Middle East in recent years.

In the summer of 2025, Iran’s nuclear nuclear enrichment facilities were significantly damaged — “completely and totally obliterated,” according to Trump, though there is no confirmation of that claim — during the 12-Day war between Iran and Israel.

And in recent years, Tehran has lost a major ally in Syria and witnessed its proxy network all but collapse. Iran has also faced crippling economic conditions and historic protests at home.

As the polls show, none of that has sparked a grand-purpose narrative.

Missing a good story

The second missing factor for narrative formation today is any strong messaging from the White House.

In the months prior to World War II, Roosevelt used his position of authority as president to give speech after speech, setting the context of the traumatic events of the 1930s, explaining the dangers at hand and outlining a course going forward. Though less truthful in its content, Bush did the same for nearly two years before the Iraq War.

Trump did almost none of this storytelling leading up to the Iran war. Five days before the war started, the president devoted three minutes to Iran in a nearly two-hour State of the Union Address.

Prior to that, he made a comment here and there to the press about Iran, but no storytelling preparing the nation for war. Likewise, since the war began, the administration’s stated reasons for military action keep shifting.

No wonder 54 percent of Americans polled disapprove of Trump’s handling of Iran and 60 percent of Americans say Trump has no clear plan for Iran. Also, 60 percent disapprove of Trump’s handling of foreign policy in general.

By comparison, Americans approved of Bush’s handling of foreign policy by 63 percent in early 2003.

Absent a cohesive, unifying story, it’s also no surprise there is lots of political fracturing today.

Partisan divides run deep — Democrats and independent voters strongly oppose the war. But Trump’s MAGA coalition is cracking too, with people like Tucker Carlson and Marjorie Taylor Greene sharply criticizing the war.

The way out

If he opts for it, there is an off-ramp for Trump from the Iran war. It’s one he knows well.

When U.S. leaders get caught up in costly regime change wars that outrun national support, they tend to back down, often with far fewer political costs than if they’d continued their unpopular war.

When the disaster referred to as Black Hawk Down hit in Somalia in 1993, killing 18 U.S. Marines, President Bill Clinton opted to end the mission to topple the warlords that ruled the country. Troops came home six months later.

Likewise, after the Benghazi attack killed four Americans in Libya in 2012, Obama pulled out all U.S. personnel working in Libya on nation-building operations.

And just last year, when Trump realized that U.S. ground troops would be necessary to topple the Houthi militant group in Yemen, he negotiated a ceasefire and ended his air war in that country with no significant political fallout.

With Trump’s Iran war, gas prices keep rising, more soldiers are likely to die, and stocks are highly volatile.

Backing down makes a lot of sense. History confirms that.

Here's how the Iran war is becoming very dangerous indeed

By Scott Lucas, Professor of International Politics, Clinton Institute, University College Dublin.

The conflict in the Middle East continues, and is showing no sign of letting up. Israeli and US warplanes have continued to strike targets inside Iran, which has prompted retaliatory attacks throughout the region. An American submarine has also sunk an Iranian navy ship off the coast of Sri Lanka, killing at least 80 people, while Nato defences intercepted a missile heading towards Turkey.

US officials, who initially envisioned the conflict in Iran lasting four to five weeks, are now warning it may go on far longer. “We are accelerating, not decelerating,” Defence Secretary Pete Hegseth told reporters on March 4, adding that “more bombers and more fighters are arriving just today”. We asked Middle East expert Scott Lucas how dangerous the situation has become.

You’ve called this ‘uncontained war’. What do you mean by that?

Once the Iranian regime retaliated, hours after initial US-Israel airstrikes that it was later revealed killed Iranian supreme leader Ayatollah Ali Khamenei, this was no longer just an American-Israeli war on Iran. Tehran, which had refrained from retaliation beyond Israel in the 12-day war in 2025, was taking this across the region.

This was a war in the Gulf states, where Iran fired not only on American bases but also industrial areas, ports and tankers. This was a war in Lebanon, where Israel responded to Hezbollah rocket fire with airstrikes and an expansion of its occupation in the south of the country. This was the possibility of war spreading to Iraq, where the US military and CIA may be supporting Iranian Kurds for a cross-border incursion.

It is now possibly also a war beyond the Middle East. A drone attacked the UK’s RAF Akrotiri base in Cyprus and an Iranian missile has been intercepted flying towards Turkey. Drones have struck an airport and school in Azerbaijan. Iran has denied responsibility but the Azerbaijani president, Ilham Aliyev, has put his armed forces on high readiness.

How dangerous a moment is this?

War is always dangerous, of course, but this conflict is compounded by the shattering of any international “rules of the game”. The US and Israel have blatantly violated international law. They have assassinated the head of another country and his senior officials.

The United Nations can condemn the strikes, but this will be easily disregarded by Israel and the US. Donald Trump has historically taken little notice of UN criticism, and said in January that his power is limited only by his “own morality”. European countries can call for deescalation, but almost all have now prioritized working with the US on the defense of positions threatened by the Iranians.

China is maintaining a cautious position and Russia will be grateful that attention is being taken away from its invasion of Ukraine. If the Iranian regime does not surrender, there does not appear to be anyone or anything capable of checking the US and Israeli attacks — and thus the retaliatory shocks across the region and beyond.

Is there a risk that Nato will be drawn in?

Nato is already drawn in. Once Iran went beyond the Middle East to threaten Cyprus and Turkey, then the bloc had to take action. However, while Nato forces downed the missile heading towards Turkish airspace, the alliance is not yet discussing invoking Article 5 (the agreement that an attack on one Nato member is considered an attack on all).

The alliance has also become involved in the conflict verbally to ensure the Trump camp does not abandon Ukrainian and European security at a sensitive point in talks to end Russia’s invasion of Ukraine. Nato secretary general Mark Rutte, already known for calling Trump “daddy”, has given fulsome praise to the war even as some Nato members like Spain condemn it.

In a recent interview with a German television channel, Rutte said: “It’s really important what the US is doing here, together with Israel, because it is taking out, degrading the capacity of Iran to get its hands on nuclear capability.”

Where are the Gulf states in this? What happened to Qatar’s attempts to mediate?

The Gulf states are likely to be happy that Iran’s supreme leader and others in his circle have been assassinated. For decades, Khamenei had pursued a strategy of expanding Iran’s influence across the Middle East — directly threatening Gulf monarchies. However, they are loathe to see regime change, fearing the disorder and instability that marked Iraq after the 2003 US invasion.

They have been trying to pull back the Trump administration — an initiative by Qatar to persuade Trump into finding an off-ramp is notable — but they have to do so quietly. Open opposition to the US president risks even more serious disruption of the political and economic situation, with no guarantee that a triggered Trump will listen.

There is a further complication because of division among the Gulf states. Saudi Arabia, Qatar and Kuwait put some of the blame for the rising hostilities in the Middle East on the United Arab Emirates and Bahrain, for their policy of normalising relations with Israel. They claim this has emboldened the Israeli government of Benjamin Netanyahu.

So far, the quiet push for deescalation does not appear to have succeeded. Without naming Qatar or another Gulf partner, Trump said on March 3 there will be no talks with Tehran.

The US and Israel are reportedly arming Kurdish groups. How could that change things?

With Plan A for regime surrender not succeeding so far, the Trump camp has had to consider what to do next. More bombing and an incursion by ground forces are two options, as is supporting an insurrection by Iranian Kurds.

It appears the US president and his senior advisers (along with their Israeli allies) may opt for the Kurdish option. According to reports, Trump has in recent days called Kurdish minority leaders to offer them “extensive US air cover” and other backing if they enter the conflict.

But the Iranian regime will undoubtedly unleash its military against the insurgents, throwing the west of the country into further turmoil. And it will have a justification to rally Iranians around the nation, despite the mass protests that were crushed in January.

Even if the US can support the insurgency in splitting off part of Iran, what happens to the rest of the country? What does Plan B offer other than instability and fragmentation that could parallel post-2003 Iraq?

This does not bring an assurance that the regime’s retaliation will be halted soon. Meanwhile, the US military is facing a shortage of interceptors which — if Iran’s firepower has not been expended — maintains the threat facing the Gulf states.

  • Scott Lucas joined University College Dublin in 2022 as Professor of International Politics, having been on the staff of the University of Birmingham since 1989. He began his career as a specialist in US and British foreign policy, but his research interests now also cover current international affairs — especially North Africa, the Middle East, and Iran – New Media, and Intelligence Services. A professional journalist since 1979, Professor Lucas is the founder and editor of EA WorldView, a leading website in daily news and analysis of Iran, Turkey, Syria, and the wider Middle East, as well as US foreign policy.

Congress has stopped presidents from waging wars — so it can stop Trump now

By Sarah Burns, Associate Professor of Political Science, Rochester Institute of Technology.

Article 1 of the U.S. Constitution gives Congress the power to declare war, not the president. But most modern presidents and their legal counsel have asserted that Article 2 allows the president to use the military in certain situations without prior congressional approval — and have acted on that, sending troops into conflicts from Panama to Libya with no regard for Congress’ will.

Congress has for the most part registered only feeble and ineffective opposition. The current move in Congress to deny President Donald Trump the ability to continue the war with Iran — led by Democrats but with some Republican support — failed, as have efforts during other conflicts.

But there was a time when Americans saw Congress stand up to a president who unilaterally took the country to war.

It was at the tail end of the Vietnam War, when Congress passed the War Powers Resolution of 1973, asserting that it was legislators — not the president — who had the power to declare war.

Once it passed both houses, President Richard Nixon vetoed it, claiming it was unconstitutional.

In response, the legislative branch overturned the veto with the two-thirds majority vote needed.

Compared to Congress’ limp response to Trump’s actions in Iran, and its similar failure to assert itself during Trump’s military action in Venezuela, it was a breathtaking act of legislative assertion.

Congress asserts itself

When they debated the War Powers Resolution, members of Congress were seeing the erosion of their control over the decision to engage in military operations large and small. With a strong bipartisan consensus, they determined they had to collectively use their powers, including the power of the purse, to thwart executive overreach.

Congress’ actions came in response to the growing protests against the Vietnam War in general and Nixon’s decision to expand the war by sending U.S. troops to invade the neutral country of Cambodia, to disrupt the supply lines of the Viet Cong, the communist guerrilla force that accounted for a large number of the 58,000 Americans killed in the war.

Nixon had begun covert carpet bombing of Cambodia in 1969, and then announced in 1970 that he would send ground troops into the country the next year.

Congress — and the country — reacted extremely negatively. Members of Congress collaborated across party lines to draft legislation in an attempt to assert their power. It was a slow process, however, involving long periods of deliberation.

They used many different methods to attempt to constrain the president. Within months of the introduction of troops to Cambodia, Congress attempted to pass amendments that would restrict his ability to invade neighboring countries. Prompted by protesting and the illegal actions in Cambodia, Congress began crafting legislation that would draw down troops in Vietnam.

With these moves, lawmakers placed immense pressure on the president. This eventually led to the drafting and eventual signing of the peace agreement ending the Vietnam war in 1973.

This was not enough for Congress, however.

Rules — and flexibility

Congress wanted to create a document ensuring presidents could not unilaterally make war. They wanted legislative consultation.

They intended the War Powers Resolution to act as a permanent constraint. So, in the resolution they spelled out the specific actions in which presidents can start a conflict:

  • First, if there is an invasion of the United States, the president can respond. In this instance, the president can act prior to congressional authorization.
  • Second, if Congress provides an “Authorization for the Use of Military Force,” the president can assume he has authorization — but only as long as it is in effect.
  • Finally, if Congress declares war, the president can act.

Lawmakers did, however, provide some flexibility. In the War Powers Resolution, they said a president can initiate and carry out hostilities for 60 days and has a further 30 days to draw down the troops. Once the executive has initiated hostilities, Congress must receive information about that action within 48 hours.

This opens the door for presidents to engage in smaller-scale or short operations without stepping outside the lines set in the law.

Presidents from both parties have availed themselves of this flexibility. As far back as 1975, when President Gerald Ford rescued the SS Mayaguez, the merchant ship captured by Cambodia’s Khmer Rouge, presidents have acknowledged the law and dutifully reported their military actions to Congress.

Like his predecessors, Trump sent a letter to Congress after his June 2025 missile attacks against Iran, as well as at the start of the currently open-ended conflict.

Presidents since the passage of the War Powers Resolution have not, however, acknowledged that they have to get congressional approval of their actions, with few exceptions. Predominantly, without congressional approval, they limit their actions to the 60-to-90-day window.

President Barack Obama attempted to circumvent the window when his bombing campaign in Libya in 2011 dragged on, as well as when he bombed the Islamic State group in 2014. In the first instance, he claimed the War Powers Resolution did not apply. In the second, he claimed each bombing campaign was discrete, rather than part of a larger campaign.

Exploiting authorizations

The balance of power between the legislative and executive branches changed considerably with the passage of the 2001 Authorization for Use of Military Force related to the Sept. 11, 2001, terrorist attacks, and the 2002 Authorization for Use of Military Force that gave legislative permission for President George W. Bush to invade Iraq.

Because Congress did not put sunset dates into these authorizations, subsequent presidents Obama, Trump and Joe Biden used those same authorizations for a host of military actions in the Middle East and elsewhere.

And legislators were deeply divided in the current discussions about demanding the cessation of hostilities against Iran.

Republican House Speaker Mike Johnson said that limiting the president at this time was “dangerous.” Former congresswoman Marjorie Taylor Greene — who has fallen out of favor with Trump’s MAGA base and the president himself — took the opposing view, posting on social media, “Now, America is going to be force fed and gas lighted all the ‘noble’ reasons the American ‘Peace’ President and Pro-Peace administration had to go to war once again this year, after being in power for only a year.”

Has the U.S. entered a moment when members of Congress reassert themselves the way they did at the tail end of the Vietnam war?

It is possible that they will follow James Madison’s advice about the power relationship between Congress and the president. Writing in the Federalist Papers, Madison said that “ambition” has “to counter ambition.” He continued, “The interest of the man must be connected with the constitutional rights of the place. It may be a reflection on human nature, that such devices should be necessary to control the abuses of government.”

As I explain in my book about congressional war powers, the constitutional system creates an invitation to struggle. Now, as the U.S. wages war on Iran, Congress must decide whether it wants to struggle, as it did during the Vietnam War, or remain compliant and in the president’s shadow.

  • Sarah Burns is an Associate Professor of Political Science at Rochester Institute of Technology. Her research examines the intersection of political liberalization and American constitutional development with an eye toward policy implications for democratization across the globe. She has written on war powers, American foreign policy, democratic peace theory, elections, and Montesquieu’s constitutionalism. Her book, The Politics of War Powers, examines the theoretical and historical development of war powers. She demonstrates how the constitutional system creates an invitation to struggle that the political branches increasingly ignore. Her forthcoming book, Losing the Good War (with Rob Haswell), examines Obama's decision making in the Afghanistan war.

This laughable ending to an ugly Epstein scandal laid bare a dark reality

By Yana van der Meulen Rodgers, Professor of Labor Studies, Rutgers University.

Economist Larry Summers will resign from his tenured job as a professor at Harvard University, the school announced on Feb. 25, 2026, following heightened scrutiny of his ties with the late convicted sex offender Jeffrey Epstein. Summers will leave at the end of the 2025-26 academic year, with a new title: president emeritus.

It’s a soft landing for his fall from grace.

In November 2025, Harvard launched an investigation of Summers, a former U.S. treasury secretary who previously served as Harvard’s president.

The probe looked into whether Summers and other members of Harvard’s faculty and administration had interactions with Epstein that violated its guidelines on accepting gifts and should be subject to disciplinary action. Summers’ resignation is connected with this ongoing investigation, a Harvard spokesperson told The Hill.

Despite repeated calls by students for Harvard to revoke Summers’ tenure, he held onto his teaching and academic appointments at Harvard until he chose to retire. Students and staff also called for his resignation in 2005 following his disparaging comments about women in science.

“Free of formal responsibility, as President Emeritus and a retired professor, I look forward in time to engaging in research, analysis, and commentary on a range of global economic issues,” Summers said in a statement released on Feb. 25.

Not surprised

As a female economist and a board member of the Committee on the Status of Women in the Economics Profession — a standing committee of the American Economic Association — I wasn’t surprised by the revelations of Summers’ apparent chumminess with Epstein, shocking as they may appear.

After all, it was Summers’ disparaging remarks about what he said was women’s relative inability to do math that led him to agree to relinquish the Harvard presidency in 2006.

And for years, researchers have documented the gender bias that pervades the field of economics.

The title of president emeritus is honorary. It brings with it symbolic recognition and the opportunity to maintain a formal connection to the university. Emeritus status is selective and requires approval at most universities. It’s usually bestowed on retiring professors.

In my view, by conferring this title on Summers, Harvard is signaling that powerful men can outlast gross misconduct with their honorifics intact.

Summers’ ties to Epstein

Summers, until his entanglement in the Epstein scandal came to light, was among the nation’s most influential economists.

But his history of public controversy stretches back to at least 1991, when a memo he wrote while serving as the World Bank’s chief economist appeared to justify sending toxic waste to poorer countries.

Criticism of Summers surged after the House of Representatives released damning messages between Summers and Epstein as part of a dump of more than 20,000 public documents from Epstein’s estate in November 2025.

A series of emails and texts documented how Summers repeatedly sought Epstein’s advice while pursuing an intimate relationship with a woman he was mentoring — while the economist was married to someone else.

Summers was close enough to Epstein that in 2014, the sex offender named the economist as a backup executor for his estate.

The Department of Justice released a much larger tranche of documents in January 2026 in compliance with a law passed by Congress. So far, no major media outlet has reported on any new Summers materials discovered as a result.

Harvard’s slow response

The Summers-Epstein exchanges released in November ignited a new round of scrutiny and led to the unraveling of Summers’ prestigious career.

Summers went on leave from teaching at Harvard on Nov. 19 and stepped down from several high-profile boards.

But beyond launching the investigation, Harvard took no decisive action to discipline or sanction Summers. This calculated hesitation, which reflects the institution’s efforts to court funding, power and influence among top donors, appears to have put donor politics above basic accountability.

By contrast, the American Economic Association, the primary professional association for economists, did take swift and harsh action. In an unprecedented move, on Dec. 2, 2025, the AEA announced that it had placed a lifetime ban on Summers from all its conferences and other activities.

Having lots of company

To be sure, Harvard is not the only prestigious university dealing with the aftermath of the Epstein revelations.

The Epstein documents include evidence that administrators and professors at other prestigious colleges and universities like Duke, Yale, Bard, Princeton and Columbia also exchanged messages with Epstein.

As public funding for higher education has eroded, universities have increasingly turned to wealthy donors to underwrite major projects and supplement budgets by endowing professorships and research centers. Epstein appears to have taken advantage of this dependence on rich supporters by presenting himself as someone who could deliver both his own money and access to other affluent donors.

The Epstein files uncovered many email exchanges, meetings and discussions with the sex offender about research and funding opportunities, and they demonstrated how thoroughly the man had embedded himself in academic circles.

Disturbingly, Summers was hardly the only scholar to solicit Epstein’s help in pursuing women.

Among others, Duke University economist Dan Ariely asked him for the contact information of a “redhead” he had met, and Yale computer scientist David Gelernter told Epstein about a woman he called a “v small goodlooking blonde.”

An economics problem

While Summers’ behavior and the reported dynamics between him and a woman he mentored may appear shocking, they are all too common in economics. For years, researchers have been documenting the gender bias that pervades the profession.

The data shows that abuse of power is common among male economists.

A 2019 survey by the AEA documented widespread sexual discrimination and harassment. Almost half of the women surveyed said that they had experienced sexual discrimination, and 43 percent reported having experienced offensive sexual behavior from another economist – almost always men.

Also, a 2021 study published by the National Bureau of Economic Research documented hostile environments in economics seminars, with female presenters experiencing more interruptions and encountering more patronizing behavior.

In 2024, according to the National Science Foundation, about 1 in 3 newly minted economics Ph.D.s in the U.S. were women, a considerably lower share than in other social sciences, business, the humanities and scientific disciplines. This ratio has changed very little since 1995.

After earning doctoral degrees in economics, women face a leaky pipeline in the tenure track, which represents the highest-paid, most secure and prestigious academic jobs. The higher the rank, the lower the representation of women.

The gender gap is wider in influential positions, such as economics department chairs and the editorial board members of economics journals. Women are also substantially underrepresented as authors in the top economics journals.

This bias not only hurts women who are economists; it can also hamper policymaking by limiting the range of perspectives that inform economic decisions.

Allowing a soft landing

Allowing Summers to commence a dignified retirement while continuing to hold honorifics risks signaling that there are ultimately few consequences at the very top in higher education.

I believe that if colleges and universities want to prove that they are serious about confronting abuses of power within their ranks, they must show that prestige does not entitle anyone, however accomplished, to a soft landing.

  • Yana Rodgers is Professor and Chair in the Department of Labor Studies and Employment Relations in the School of Management and Labor Relations at Rutgers University. She also works regularly as a consultant for the World Bank, the United Nations, and the Asian Development Bank.Yana specializes in using quantitative methods to conduct research on women's health, labor market status, and well-being. Yana recently served as Faculty Director of the Center for Women and Work at Rutgers, and she was President of the International Association for Feminist Economics. She serves as an Associate Editor with the journals World Development; Feminist Economics; and Gender, Work & Organization.Yana earned her PhD in economics from Harvard University and her BA in economics from Cornell University.
  • Portions of this article appeared in a related article published on Dec. 2, 2025

Minneapolis resonated more than past outrages. Why?

By Gregory P. Magarian, Thomas and Karole Green Professor of Law, Washington University in St. Louis.

The president announces an aggressive, controversial policy. Large groups of protesters take to the streets. Government agents open fire and kill protesters.

All of these events, familiar from Minneapolis in 2026, also played out at Ohio’s Kent State University in 1970. In my academic writing about the First Amendment, I have described Kent State as a key moment when the government silenced free speech.

In Minneapolis, free speech has weathered the crisis better, as seen in the protests themselves, the public’s responses — and even the protest songs the two events inspired.

Protests and shootings, then and now

In 1970, President Richard Nixon announced he had expanded the Vietnam War by bombing Cambodia. Student anti-war protests, already fervent, intensified.

In Ohio, Gov. James Rhodes deployed the National Guard to quell protests at Kent State University. Monday, May 4, saw a large midday protest on the main campus commons. Students exercised their First Amendment rights by chanting and shouting at the Guard troops, who dispersed protesters with tear gas before regrouping on a nearby hill.

- YouTube www.youtube.com

With the nearest remaining protesters 20 yards from the Guard troops and most more than 60 yards away, 28 guardsmen inexplicably fired on students, killing four and wounding nine others.

After the killings, the government sought to shift blame to the slain students.

Nixon stated: “When dissent turns to violence, it invites tragedy.”

Minneapolis in 2026 presents vivid parallels.

As part of a sweeping campaign to deport undocumented immigrants, President Donald Trump in early January 2026 deployed armed U.S. Immigration and Customs Enforcement and Customs and Border Protection agents to Minneapolis.

Many residents protested, exercising their First Amendment rights by using smartphones and whistles to record and call out what they saw as ICE and CBP abuses. On Jan. 7, 2026, an ICE agent shot and killed activist Renee Good in her car. On Jan. 24, two CBP agents shot and killed protester Alex Pretti on the street.

The government sought to blame Good and Pretti for their own killings.

Different public reactions

After Kent State, amid bitter conservative opposition to student protesters, most Americans blamed the fallen students for their deaths. When students in New York City protested the Kent State shootings, construction workers attacked and beat them in what became known as the “Hard Hat Riot.” Afterward, Nixon hosted construction union leaders at the White House, where they gave him an honorary hard hat.

In contrast, most Americans believe the Trump administration has used excessive force in Minneapolis. Majorities both oppose the federal agents’ actions against protesters and approve of protesting and recording the agents.

The public response to Minneapolis has made a difference. The Trump administration has announced an end to its immigration crackdown in the Twin Cities. Trump has backed off attacks on Good and Pretti. Congressional opposition to ICE funding has grown. Overall public support for Trump and his policies has fallen.

Protests, recordings and songs

What has caused people to view the killings in Minneapolis so differently from Kent State? One big factor, I believe, is how free speech has shaped the public response.

The Minneapolis protests themselves have sent the public a more focused message than what emerged from the student protests against the Vietnam War.

Anti-war protests in 1970 targeted military action on the other side of the world. Organizers had to plan and coordinate through in-person meetings and word of mouth. Student protesters needed the institutional news media to convey their views to the public.

In contrast, the anti-ICE protests in Minneapolis target government action at the protesters’ doorsteps. Organizers can use local networks and social media to plan, coordinate and communicate directly with the public. The protests have succeeded in deepening public opposition to ICE.

In addition, the American people have witnessed the Minneapolis shootings.

Kent State produced a famous photograph of a surviving student’s anguish but only hazy, chaotic video of the shootings.

In contrast, widely circulated video evidence showed the Minneapolis killings in horrifying detail. Within days of each shooting, news organizations had compiled detailed visual timelines, often based on recordings by protesters and observers, that sharply contradicted government accounts of what happened to Good and Pretti.

Finally, consider two popular protest songs that emerged from Kent State and Minneapolis: Crosby, Stills, Nash & Young’s “Ohio” and Bruce Springsteen’s “Streets of Minneapolis.”

- YouTube www.youtube.com

Crosby, Stills, Nash & Young recorded, pressed and released “Ohio” with remarkable speed for 1970. The vinyl single reached record stores and radio stations on June 4, a month after the Kent State shootings. The song peaked at No. 14 on the Billboard chart two months later.

Neil Young’s lyrics described the Kent State events in mythic terms, warning of “tin soldiers” and telling young Americans: “We’re finally on our own.” Young did not describe the shootings in detail. The song does not name Kent State, the National Guard or the fallen students. Instead, it presents the events as symbolic of a broader generational conflict over the Vietnam War.

Springsteen released “Streets of Minneapolis” on Jan. 28, 2026 — just four days after CBP agents killed Pretti. Two days later, the song topped streaming charts worldwide.

The internet and social media let Springsteen document Minneapolis, almost in real time, for a mass audience. Springsteen’s lyrics balance symbolism with specificity, naming not just “King Trump” but also victims Pretti and Good, key Trump officials Stephen Miller and Kristi Noem, main Minneapolis artery Nicollet Avenue, and the protesters’ “whistles and phones,” before fading on a chant of “ICE out!”

Critics offer compelling arguments that 21st-century mass communication degrades social relationships, elections and culture. In Minneapolis, disinformation has muddied crucial facts about the protests and killings.

At the same time, Minneapolis has shown how networked communication can promote free speech. Through focused protests, recordings of government action, and viral popular culture, today’s public can get fuller, clearer information to help critically assess government actions.

  • Gregory P. Magarian has written and taught for 26 years about constitutional law, specializing in the freedom of expression and with secondary interests in gun regulation, law and religion, and regulations of the political process. He wrote Managed Speech: The Roberts Court's First Amendment (Oxford University Press, 2017) and has published dozens of academic articles, book chapters, and general audience essays. He has taught at Washington University since 2008 and previously taught at Villanova University. He clerked on the U.S. Supreme Court for Justice John Paul Stevens and on the U.S. District Court (D.C.) for Judge Louis Oberdorfer, and earned his law degree magna cum laude from the University of Michigan, where he was editor-in-chief of the Michigan Law Review. He received his undergraduate degree summa cum laude from Yale.

Bernie and AOC wouldn't be known without this American giant

By Bert Johnson, Professor of Political Science, Middlebury College.

Jesse Jackson’s two campaigns for president, in 1984 and 1988, were unsuccessful but historic. The civil rights activist and organizer, who died on Feb. 17, 2026, helped pave the way for Barack Obama’s election a generation later as the nation’s first – and so far only – African American president.

Jackson’s campaigns energized a multiracial coalition that not only provided support for other late-20th-century Democratic politicians, including President Bill Clinton, but helped create an organizing template – a so-called Rainbow Coalition combining Black, Latino, working-class white and young voters – that continues to resonate in progressive politics today.

Vermont, where I teach political science, did not look like fertile ground for Jackson when he first ran for president. Then, as now, Vermont was one of the most homogeneous, predominantly white states. But if Jackson seemed like an awkward fit for a mostly rural, lily-white state, he nonetheless saw possibilities.

He campaigned in Vermont twice in 1984, buoyantly declaring in Montpelier, the state capital, “If I win Vermont, the nation will never be the same again.”

He did not win Vermont, taking just 8 percent of the Democratic primary vote in 1984 but tripling his share to 26 percent in 1988. Appealing to voters in small, rural New England precincts was a remarkable achievement for a candidate identified with Chicago and civil rights campaigns in the South.

Jackson’s presidential ambitions coincided with a pivotal moment in Vermont politics: The state’s voting patterns were shifting left, with new residents arriving and changing the state’s culture and economy. In 1970, nearly 70 percent of Vermonters had been born there. By 1990, that figure had dropped by 10 percentage points.

The Vermont Rainbow Coalition, which was formed to support Jackson’s first campaign, organized a crucial constituency in a fluid time, establishing patterns that would persist for decades.

Setting the standard

Jackson created a “People’s Platform” that would sound familiar to today’s progressives, calling for higher taxes on businesses, higher minimum wages and single-payer, universal health care.

In light of Jackson’s efforts, Vermont activists saw the potential for a durable statewide organization. Rather than disband the Vermont Rainbow Coalition after the 1984 primary, they kept the group going, endorsing candidates in campaigns for the legislature and statewide office in each of the next three election cycles. The coalition also endorsed Bernie Sanders’ failed bid for Congress in 1988.

Sanders served eight years as mayor of Burlington as an “independent socialist,” cultivating a core collection of local allies known as the Progressive Coalition who sought to wrest power away from establishment members of the city’s Board of Aldermen.

In 1992, the Vermont Rainbow Coalition merged with Burlington’s Progressive Coalition to form the statewide Progressive Coalition.

Jackson-Sanders lineage

Sanders eventually went on to win election to the House as an independent in 1990, serving in the chamber until winning his Senate seat, also as an independent, in 2006. His presidential runs in 2016 and 2020 made him a prominent national figure and a leader among progressives.

Alexandria Ocasio-Cortez, who unseated a member of the House Democratic leadership in a stunning 2018 primary upset in New York, had been a Sanders campaign organizer and remains his close ally. On Jan. 1, 2026, Sanders swore in Zohran Mamdani – like Ocasio-Cortez, a Democratic socialist – as mayor of New York City.

Sanders had endorsed Jackson for president in 1988. Years later, Jackson returned the favor.

Sanders paid tribute to Jackson at the 2024 Democratic National Convention.

“Jesse Jackson is one of the very most significant political leaders in this country in the last 100 years,” Sanders said. “Jesse’s contribution to modern history is not just bringing us together – it is bringing us together around a progressive agenda.”

Not just Vermont

In Vermont, Jackson performed surprisingly well in unlikely places – taking nearly 20 percent of the 1984 primary vote in working-class Bakersfield and Belvidere, for example.

Today’s Vermont Progressive Party, which emerged out of the old Vermont Progressive Coalition, is one of the most successful third parties in the nation, winning official “major party” status in the state shortly after its official founding in 2000. The party has elected candidates to the state legislature, city councils and even a few statewide offices, including that of lieutenant governor.

Vermont was not alone in experiencing the catalyzing effect of Jackson’s presidential runs. Jackson had a significant mobilizing impact on Black voters nationwide. In Washington state, the Washington Rainbow Coalition started in Seattle and spread across the state between 1984 and 1996. New Jersey and Pennsylvania had their own successful and independent Rainbow Coalitions. In 2003, the Rainbow Coalition Party of Massachusetts joined the Green Party to become the Green Rainbow Party.

In my own research, I’ve investigated the durability of the “Jackson effect” in Vermont. There is no better test of what differentiates the Vermont Progressive Party from the state’s Democratic Party than the 2016 Democratic primary race for lieutenant governor, which pitted progressive David Zuckerman against two prominent, mainstream Democrats.

Zuckerman beat the Democrats most handily in towns that had voted the most heavily for Jesse Jackson in 1984, an effect that persisted even when controlling for population, partisanship and liberalism.

Many people would point to Sanders as the catalyst for Vermont’s continuing progressive movement. But Sanders and the progressives owe much to Jackson.

  • Bert Johnson has taught American politics at Middlebury since 2004. His research and teaching interests include campaign finance, federalism, and state and local politics. Johnson is author of Political Giving: Making Sense of Individual Campaign Contributions (Boulder: FirstForum Press, 2013), and coauthor (with Morris Fiorina, Paul E. Peterson, and William Mayer) of The New American Democracy (Longman, 2011). His articles have appeared in Social Science History, Urban Affairs Review, and American Politics Research. He is owner and author of Basicsplainer.com.

This forgotten case can stop Trump's plot to steal elections

By Derek T. Muller, Professor of Law, University of Notre Dame.

The recent FBI search of the Fulton County, Georgia, elections facility and the seizure of election-related materials pursuant to a warrant has attracted concern for what it might mean for future elections.

What if a determined executive branch used federal law enforcement to seize election materials to sow distrust in the results of the 2026 midterm congressional elections?

Courts and states should be wary when an investigation risks commandeering the evidence needed to ascertain election results. That is where a largely forgotten Supreme Court case from the 1970s matters, a case about an Indiana recount that sets important guardrails to prevent post-election chaos in federal elections.

Congress’s constitutionally delegated role

The case known as Roudebush v. Hartke arose from a razor-thin U.S. Senate race in Indiana in 1970. The ballots were cast on Election Day, and the state counted and verified the results, a process known as the “canvass.” The state certified R. Vance Hartke as the winner. Typically, the certified winner presents himself to Congress, which accepts his certificate of election and seats the member to Congress.

The losing candidate, Richard L. Roudebush, invoked Indiana’s recount procedures. Hartke sued to stop the recount. He argued that a state recount would intrude on the power of each chamber, the Senate or the House of Representatives, to judge its own elections under Article I, Section 5 of the U.S. Constitution. That clause gives each chamber the sole right to judge elections. No one else can interfere with that power.

Hartke worried that a recount might result in ballots that could be altered or destroyed, which would diminish the ability of the Senate to engage in a meaningful examination of the ballots if an election contest arose.

But the Supreme Court rejected that argument.

It held that a state recount does not “usurp” the Senate’s authority because the Senate remains free to make the ultimate judgment of who won the election. The recount can be understood as producing new information — in this case, an additional set of tabulated results — without stripping the Senate of its final say.

Furthermore, there was no evidence that a recount board would be “less honest or conscientious in the performance of its duties” than the original precinct boards that tabulated the election results the first time around, the court said.

A state recount, then, is perfectly acceptable, as long as it does not impair the power of Congress.

In the Roudebush decision, the court recognized that states run the mechanics of congressional elections as part of their power under Article I, Section 4 of the U.S. Constitution to set the “Times, Places and Manner of holding Elections for Senators and Representatives,” subject to Congress’s own regulation.

At the same time, each chamber of Congress judges its own elections, and courts and states should not casually interfere with that core constitutional function. They cannot engage in behaviors that usurp Congress’s constitutionally-delegated role in elections.

Evidence can be power

The Fulton County episode is legally and politically fraught not because federal agents executed a warrant — courts authorize warrants all the time — but because of what was seized: ballots, voting machines, tabulation equipment and related records.

Those items are not just evidence. They are also the raw materials for the canvassing of votes and certification of winners. They provide the foundation for audits and recounts. And, importantly, they are necessary for any later inquiry by Congress if a House or Senate race becomes contested.

That overlap creates a structural problem: If a federal investigation seizes, damages, or destroys election materials, it can affect who has the power to assess the election. It can also inject uncertainty into the chain of custody: Because ballots are removed from absentee envelopes or transferred from Election Day precincts to county election storage facilities, states ensure the ballots cast on Election Day are the only ones tabulated, and that ballots are not lost or destroyed in the process.

Disrupting this chain of custody by seizing ballots, however, can increase, rather than decrease, doubts about the reliability of election results.

That is the modern version of “usurpation.”

From my perspective as an election law scholar, Roudebush is a reminder that courts should be skeptical of executive actions that shift decisive control over election proof away from the institutions the Constitution expects to do the judging.

Congress doesn’t just adjudicate contests

There is another institutional reason courts should be cautious about federal actions that seize or compromise election materials: The House already has a long-running capacity to observe state election administration in close congressional races.

The Committee on House Administration maintains an Election Observer Program. That program deploys credentialed House staff to be on-site at local election facilities in “close or difficult” House elections. That staff observes casting, processing, tabulating and canvassing procedures.

The program exists for a straightforward reason: If the House may be called upon to judge a contested election under Article I, Section 5, it has an institutional interest in understanding how the election was administered and how records were handled.

That observation function is not hypothetical. The committee has publicly announced deployments of congressional observers to watch recount processes in tight House races throughout the country.

I saw it take place first-hand in 2020. The House deployed election observers in Iowa’s 2nd Congressional District to oversee a recount of a congressional election that was ultimately certified by a margin of just six votes.

Democratic and Republican observers from the House politely observed, asked questions, and kept records – but never interfered with the state election apparatus or attempted to lay hands on election equipment or ballots.

Congress has not rejected a state’s election results since 1984, and for good reason. States now have meticulous record-keeping, robust chain-of-custody procedures for ballots, and multiple avenues of verifying the accuracy of results. And with Congress watching, state results are even more trustworthy.

When federal investigations collide with election materials

Evidence seizures can adversely affect election administration. So courts and states ought to be vigilant, enforcing guardrails that help respect institutional boundaries.

To start, any executive branch effort to unilaterally inject itself into a state election apparatus should face meaningful scrutiny. Unlike the Fulton County warrant, which targeted an election nearly six years old, warrants that interrupt ongoing state processes in an election threaten to usurp the constitutional role of Congress. And executive action cannot proceed if it impinges upon the ultimate ability of Congress to judge the election of its members.

In the exceedingly unlikely event that a court issues a warrant, a court should not permit seizure of election equipment and ballots during a state’s ordinary post-election canvass. Instead, inspection of items, provision of copies of election materials, or orders to preserve evidence are more tailored means to accomplish the same objectives. And courts should establish clear chain-of-custody procedures in the event that evidence must be preserved for a future seizure in a federal investigation.

The fear driving much public commentary about the danger to midterm elections is not merely that election officials will be investigated or that evidence would be seized. It is that investigations could be used as a pretense to manage or, worse, disrupt elections – chilling administrators, disorganizing record keeping or manufacturing doubt by disrupting custody of ballots and systems.

Roudebush provides a constitutional posture that courts should adopt, a recognition that some acts can usurp the power of Congress to judge elections. That will provide a meaningful constraint on the executive ahead of the 2026 election and reduce the risk of intervention in an ongoing election.

Here's why Trump is dangerously wrong about how climate change threatens our health

By Jonathan Levy, Professor and Chair, Department of Environmental Health, Boston University; Howard Frumkin, Professor Emeritus of Environmental and Occupational Health Sciences, University of Washington; Jonathan PatzProfessor of Environmental Medicine, University of Wisconsin-Madison; Vijay LimayeAdjunct Associate Professor of Population Health Sciences, University of Wisconsin-Madison.

The Trump administration took a major step in its efforts to unravel America’s climate policies on Thursday, when it moved to rescind the 2009 endangerment finding — a formal determination that six greenhouse gases that drive climate change, including carbon dioxide and methane from burning fossil fuels, endanger public health and welfare.

But the administration’s arguments in dismissing the health risks of climate change are not only factually wrong, they’re deeply dangerous to Americans’ health and safety.

As physicians, epidemiologists and environmental health scientists, we’ve seen growing evidence of the connections between climate change and harm to people’s health. Here’s a look at the health risks everyone face from climate change.

Extreme heat

Greenhouse gases from vehicles, power plants and other sources accumulate in the atmosphere, trapping heat and holding it close to Earth’s surface like a blanket. Too much of it causes global temperatures to rise, leaving more people exposed to dangerous heat more often.

Most people who get minor heat illnesses will recover, but more extreme exposure, especially without enough hydration and a way to cool off, can be fatal. People who work outside, are elderly or have underlying illnesses such as heart, lung or kidney diseases are often at the greatest risk.

Heat deaths have been rising globally, up 23 percent from the 1990s to the 2010s, when the average year saw more than half a million heat-related deaths. Here in the U.S., the 2021 Pacific Northwest heat dome killed hundreds of people.

Climate scientists predict that with advancing climate change, many areas of the world, including U.S. cities such as Miami, Houston, Phoenix and Las Vegas, will confront many more days each year hot enough to threaten human survival.

Extreme weather

Warmer air holds more moisture, so climate change brings increasing rainfall and storm intensity and worsening flooding, as many U.S. communities have experienced in recent years. Warmer ocean water also fuels more powerful hurricanes.

Increased flooding carries health risks, including drownings, injuries and water contamination from human pathogens and toxic chemicals. People cleaning out flooded homes also face risks from mold exposure, injuries and mental distress.

Climate change also worsens droughts, disrupting food supplies and causing respiratory illness from dust. Rising temperatures and aridity dry out forests and grasslands, making them a set-up for wildfires.

Air pollution

Wildfires, along with other climate effects, are worsening air quality around the country.

Wildfire smoke is a toxic soup of microscopic particles (known as fine particulate matter, or PM2.5) that can penetrate deep in the lungs and hazardous compounds such as lead, formaldehyde and dioxins generated when homes, cars and other materials burn at high temperatures. Smoke plumes can travel thousands of miles downwind and trigger heart attacks and elevate lung cancer risks, among other harms.

Meanwhile, warmer conditions favor the formation of ground-level ozone, a heart and lung irritant. Burning of fossil fuels also generates dangerous air pollutants that cause a long list of health problems, including heart attacks, strokes, asthma flare-ups and lung cancer.

Infectious diseases

Because they are cold-blooded organisms, insects are directly influenced by temperature. So with rising temperatures, mosquito biting rates rise as well. Warming also accelerates the development of disease agents that mosquitoes transmit.

Mosquito-borne dengue fever has turned up in Florida, Texas, Hawaii, Arizona and California. New York state just saw its first locally acquired case of chikungunya virus, also transmitted by mosquitoes.

And it’s not just insect-borne infections. Warmer temperatures increase diarrhea and foodborne illness from Vibrio cholerae and other bacteria and heavy rainfall increases sewage-contaminated stormwater overflows into lakes and streams. At the other water extreme, drought in the desert Southwest increases the risk of coccidioidomycosis, a fungal infection known as valley fever.

Other impacts

Climate change threatens health in numerous other ways. Longer pollen seasons increase allergen exposures. Lower crop yields reduce access to nutritious foods.

Mental health also suffers, with anxiety, depression and post-traumatic stress following disasters, and increased rates of violent crime and suicide tied to high-temperature days.

Young children, older adults, pregnant women and people with preexisting medical conditions are among the highest-risk groups. Lower-income people also face greater risk because of higher rates of chronic disease, higher exposures to climate hazards and fewer resources for protection, medical care and recovery from disasters.

Policy-based evidence-making

The evidence linking climate change with health has grown considerably since 2009. Today, it is incontrovertible.

Studies show that heat, air pollution, disease spread and food insecurity linked to climate change are worsening and costing millions of lives around the world each year. This evidence also aligns with Americans’ lived experiences. Anybody who has fallen ill during a heat wave, struggled while breathing wildfire smoke or been injured cleaning up from a hurricane knows that climate change can threaten human health.

Yet the Trump administration is willfully ignoring this evidence in proclaiming that climate change does not endanger health.

Its move to rescind the 2009 endangerment finding, which underpins many climate regulations, fits with a broader set of policy measures, including cutting support for renewable energy and subsidizing fossil fuel industries that endanger public health. In addition to rescinding the endangerment finding, the Trump administration also moved to roll back emissions limits on vehicles – the leading source of U.S. carbon emissions and a major contributor to air pollutants such as PM2.5 and ozone.

It’s not just about endangerment

The evidence is clear: Climate change endangers human health. But there’s a flip side to the story.

When governments work to reduce the causes of climate change, they help tackle some of the world’s biggest health challenges. Cleaner vehicles and cleaner electricity mean cleaner air — and less heart and lung disease. More walking and cycling on safe sidewalks and bike paths mean more physical activity and lower chronic disease risks. The list goes on. By confronting climate change, we promote good health.

To really make America healthy, in our view, the nation should acknowledge the facts behind the endangerment finding and double down on our transition from fossil fuels to a healthy, clean energy future.

Trumpworld's latest rush to judgment hurts us all

By Brian O'Neill, Professor of Practice, International Affairs, Georgia Institute of Technology.

In separate encounters, federal immigration agents in Minneapolis killed Renée Good and Alex Pretti in January 2026.

Shortly after Pretti’s killing, Homeland Security Secretary Kristi Noem said he committed an “act of domestic terrorism.”

Noem made the same accusation against Good.

But the label “domestic terrorism” is not a generic synonym for the kind of politically charged violence Noem alleged both had committed. U.S. law describes the term as a specific idea: acts dangerous to human life that appear intended to intimidate civilians, pressure government policy or affect government conduct through extreme means. Intent is the hinge.

From my experience managing counterterrorism analysts at the CIA and the National Counterterrorism Center, I know the terrorism label — domestic or international — is a judgment applied only after intent and context are assessed. It’s not to be used before an investigation has even begun. Terrorism determinations require analytic discipline, not speed.

Evidence before conclusions

In the first news cycle, investigators may know the crude details of what happened: who fired, who died and roughly what happened. They usually do not know motive with enough confidence to declare that coercive intent — the element that separates terrorism from other serious crimes — is present.

The Congressional Research Service, which provides policy analysis to Congress, makes a related point: While the term “domestic terrorism” is defined in statute, it is not itself a standalone federal offense. That’s part of the reason why public use of the term can outpace legal and investigative reality.

This dynamic — the temptation to close on a narrative before the evidence warrants it — seen most recently in the Homeland Security secretary’s assertions, echoes long-standing insights in intelligence scholarship and formal analytic standards.

Intelligence studies make a simple observation: Analysts and institutions face inherent uncertainty because information is often incomplete, ambiguous and subject to deception.

In response, the U.S. intelligence community codified analytic standards in the aftermath of the Sept. 11, 2001, terrorist attacks. The standards emphasize objectivity, independence from political influence, and rigorous articulation of uncertainty. The goal was not to eliminate uncertainty but to bound it with disciplined methods and transparent assumptions.

When narrative outruns evidence

The terrorism label becomes risky when leaders publicly call an incident “domestic terrorism” before they can explain what evidence supports that conclusion. By doing that, they invite two predictable problems.

The first problem is institutional. Once a senior official declares something with categorical certainty, the system can feel pressure — sometimes subtle, sometimes overt — to validate the headline.

In high-profile incidents, the opposite response, institutional caution, is easily seen as evasion — pressure that can drive premature public declarations. Instead of starting with questions — “What do we know?” “What evidence would change our minds?” — investigators, analysts and communicators can find themselves defending a superior’s storyline.

The second problem is public trust. Research has found that the “terrorist” label itself shapes how audiences perceive threat and evaluate responses, apart from the underlying facts. Once the public begins to see the term as a political messaging tool, it may discount future uses of the term — including in cases where the coercive intent truly exists.

Once officials and commentators commit publicly to a version ahead of any assessment of intent and context, confirmation bias — interpreting evidence as confirmation of one’s existing beliefs — and anchoring — heavy reliance on preexisting information — can shape both internal decision-making and public reaction.

The long-term cost of misuse

This is not just a semantic fight among experts. Most people carry a mental file for “terrorism” shaped by mass violence and explicit ideological targeting.

When Americans hear the word “terrorism,” they likely think of 9/11, the 1995 Oklahoma City bombing or high-profile attacks abroad, such as the 2005 London bombings and December 2025 antisemitic attack in Sydney, where intent was clear.

By contrast, the more common U.S. experience of violence — shootings, assaults and chaotic confrontations with law enforcement — is typically treated by investigators, and understood by the public, as homicide or targeted violence until motive is established. That public habit reflects a commonsense sequence: First determine what happened, then decide why, then decide how to categorize it.

U.S. federal agencies have published standard definitions and tracking terminology for domestic terrorism, but senior officials’ public statements can outrun investigative reality.

The Minneapolis cases illustrate how fast the damage can occur: Early reporting and documentary material quickly diverged from official accounts. This fed accusations that the narrative was shaped and conclusions made before investigators had gathered the basic facts.

Even though Trump administration officials later distanced themselves from initial claims of domestic terrorism, corrections rarely travel as far as the original assertion. The label sticks, and the public is left to argue over politics rather than evidence.

None of this minimizes the seriousness of violence against officials or the possibility that an incident may ultimately meet a terrorism definition.

The point is discipline. If authorities have evidence of coercive intent — the element that makes “terrorism” distinct — then they would do well to say so and show what can responsibly be shown. If they do not, they could describe the event in ordinary investigative language and let the facts mature.

A “domestic terrorism” label that comes before the facts does not just risk being wrong in one case. It teaches the public, case by case, to treat the term as propaganda rather than diagnosis. When that happens, the category becomes less useful precisely when the country needs clarity most.

This Trump offensive threatens the Constitution itself

By Yohuru Williams, Professor of History, University of St. Thomas and Michael J. Lansing, Professor of History, Augsburg University.

Forcibly entering homes without a judicial warrant. Arresting journalists who reported on protests. Defying dozens of federal orders. Killing U.S. citizens for noncompliance. Asking constitutionally protected observers this chilling question: “Have you not learned?”

This is daily life in Minnesota. Operation Metro Surge, ostensibly an immigration enforcement initiative, has become something more consequential: a constitutional stress test. Can constitutional protections withstand the actions of a federal government seemingly intent on aggressively violating the rule of law?

In Minneapolis, a city still reckoning with its own grim history of policing, the federal operation raises fundamental questions about law enforcement and the limits of executive power.

Legal scholars and civil rights advocates are especially worried about ongoing violations of the First, Second, Fourth and 10th amendments, as are other observers, including historians like us.

Catalog of violations

First Amendment concerns stem from reports that agents from ICE — described by some scholars as a paramilitary force — and the Border Patrol have deployed excessive force as well as advanced surveillance methods on suspects, observers and journalists. When enforcement activity impedes the rights to assemble, document and criticize government action, that chills those rights, and the consequences extend beyond any single demonstration. These rights are not peripheral to democracy. They are central to it.

Second Amendment issues erupted following the fatal shooting of a legally armed Alex Pretti in Minneapolis. Highly placed administration officials claimed Americans could not bring firearms to protests, despite a long-standing interpretation that in most states, including Minnesota, a person who was legally permitted to carry a firearm could bring it to such events. The assertion was in fact contrary to the Trump administration’s support for gun rights.

Thanks to the videos flooding social media, Fourth Amendment concerns are the most familiar. Allegations include entering homes without warrants, stopping, intimidating and seizing legal observers, and detaining suspects by virtue of their appearance or accent. Those are clear violations of the Fourth Amendment’s safeguards against unreasonable searches and seizures, which were adopted to prevent the exercise of arbitrary government power.

Finally, the 10th Amendment lies at the heart of Minnesota’s legal cases against the federal government.

One lawsuit contests the federal government’s refusal to allow the Minnesota Bureau of Criminal Apprehension to investigate the killings of Renee Good and Alex Pretti. Another challenges efforts to pressure local governments into assisting federal immigration enforcement. These disputes implicate federalism itself — the constitutional division of authority between states and the federal government that is the foundation of the American system.

The massive and rapid accumulation of these alleged constitutional violations – now working their way through the courts – in a single geographic locale is striking. So are the mass resignations from the state’s U.S. attorney’s office, which is responsible for representing the federal government in these cases.

And so is the deeper historical context.

A retreat from federal constitutional oversight

Starting in 1994, federal intervention became a powerful corrective whenever local police violated constitutional rights.

From Newark to New Orleans, federal oversight was not always welcomed, but it was frequently necessary to enforce equal protection and due process.

Federal oversight has been essential in enforcing civil rights when municipalities would not. Active monitoring of policing in those cities kept officers and administrators accountable and encouraged officers to follow constitutional standards. At its core, what experts call “constitutional policing” requires that government’s use of authority to ensure order be justified, limited and subject to oversight.

In that vein, after the 2020 murder of George Floyd by a Minneapolis policeman, the 2023 U.S. Department of Justice report on policing in Minneapolis identified questionable patterns and practices. Those problems included the “unreasonable” use of deadly force, racial profiling and retaliation against journalists. The Department of Justice’s proposed consent decree – grounded in constitutional policing – offered a way forward.

But in May 2025, the Department of Justice, under the leadership of President Donald Trump’s appointee Pam Bondi, withdrew the recommended agreement.

Seven months later, Operation Metro Surge deployed thousands of federal agents to Minnesota with a markedly different enforcement philosophy.

Indeed, the recent expansion of federal enforcement authority in Minnesota followed a retreat from federal constitutional oversight.

Taking the handcuffs off

A presidential executive order, signed by Trump in late April 2025 and titled “Strengthening and Unleashing America’s Law Enforcement to Pursue Criminals and Protect Innocent Citizens,” pledged to remove what were described as “handcuffs” on police.

Soon thereafter, the administration deployed the National Guard to Los Angeles amid immigration protests.

Though a federal judge later rejected the legal rationale for that deployment, in August 2025, the president sent National Guard forces to Washington, D.C., purportedly to reduce crime. In September 2025, Trump described American cities as potential “training grounds” for the military to confront what he called the “enemy from within.”

Each episode reflects an increasingly expansive view of executive branch authority.

Whether Operation Metro Surge ultimately withstands judicial scrutiny remains to be seen. Numerous lawsuits continue to wind their way through the courts.

But the broader question is already clear: When, in the name of security, the executive branch directly challenges so many Bill of Rights protections at once, how much strain can the American legal system absorb? Will basic constitutional rights survive this moment?

What is unfolding in Minnesota is not simply a local enforcement story. It is a test of whether the Constitution as we know it will survive.

Trump is like this fascist dictator — it isn't Hitler

By Rachelle Wilson Tollemar, Adjunct Professor of Spanish, University of St. Thomas.

Minneapolis residents say they feel besieged under what some are calling a fascist occupation. Thousands of Immigration and Customs Enforcement agents have been swarming a city whose vast majority in 2024 did not vote for Donald Trump — or for a paramilitary roundup of its diverse population.

Tragically, two residents have been killed by federal agents. Consequently, social media is aflame with comparisons of Trump’s immigration enforcers to Hitler’s Gestapo.

While comparisons to Hitler’s fascist regime are becoming common, I’d argue that it may be even more fitting to compare the present moment to a less-remembered but longer-lasting fascist regime: that of Francisco Franco, dictator of Spain from 1936 until his death in 1975.

In 2016, critics warned that Trump’s campaign rhetoric was grounded in textbook fascism, exhibiting signs such as racism, sexism and misogyny, nationalism, propaganda and more. In return, critics were met with intense backlash, accused of being hysterical or overly dramatic.

Now, even normally sober voices are sounding the alarm that America may be falling to fascist rule.

As a scholar of Spanish culture, I, too, see troubling parallels between Franco’s Spain and Trump’s America.

Putting them side by side, I believe, provides insightful tools that are needed to understand the magnitude of what’s at risk today.

Franco’s rise and reign

The Falange party started off as a a small extremist party on the margins of Spanish society, a society deeply troubled with political and economic instability. The party primarily preached a radical nationalism, a highly exclusive way to be and act Spanish. Traditional gender roles, monolingualism and Catholicism rallied people by offering absolutist comfort during uncertain times. Quickly, the Falange grew in power and prevalence until, ultimately, it moved mainstream.

By 1936, the party had garnered enough support from the Catholic Church, the military, and wealthy landowners and businessmen that a sizable amount of the population accepted Gen. Francisco Franco’s coup d'etat: a military crusade of sorts that sought to stop the perceived anarchy of liberals living in godless cities. His slogan, “¡Una, Grande, Libre!,” or “one, great, free,” mobilized people who shared the Falange’s anxieties.

Like the Falange, MAGA, the wing of the Republican Party named after Trump’s slogan “Make America Great Again,” repeatedly vilifies the left, who mostly live in cities, as godless anarchists who live like vermin.

Once in power, the Francoist regime commissioned a secret police force, the Political-Social Brigade — known as the BPS — to “clean up house.” The BPS was charged with suppressing or killing any political, social, cultural or linguistic dissidents.

Weakening resistance

Franco not only weaponized the military but also proverbially enlisted the Catholic Church. He colluded with the clergy to convince parishioners, especially women, of their divine duty to multiply, instill nationalist Catholic values in their children, and thus reproduce ideological replicas of both the state and the church. From the pulpit, homemakers were extolled as “ángeles del hogar” and “heroínas de la patria,” or “angels of the home” and “heroines of the homeland.”

Together, Franco and the church constructed consent for social restrictions, including outlawing or criminalizing abortion, contraception, divorce, work by women and other women’s rights, along with even tolerating uxoricide, or the killing of wives, for their perceived sexual transgressions.

Some scholars contend that the repealing of women’s reproductive rights is the first step away from a fully democratic society. For this reason and more, many are concerned about the U.S. Supreme Court’s recent overturning of Roe v. Wade.

The #tradwife social media trend involves far-right platforms echoing Francoist-style ideologies of submission, restriction, dependence and white male dominance. One of TikTok’s most popular tradwife influencers, for instance, posted that “there is no higher calling than being a wife and a mother for a woman.” She also questioned young women attending college and rebuked, on air, wives who deny their husbands sexual intimacy.

Weakening the economy

Economically, Franco implemented autarkic policies, a system of limited trade designed to isolate Spain and protect it from anti-Spanish influences. He utilized high tariffs, strict quotas, border controls and currency manipulation, effectively impoverishing the nation and vastly enriching himself and his cronies.

These policies flew under the motto “¡Arriba España!,” or “Up Spain.” They nearly immediately triggered more than a decade of suffering known as the “hunger years.” An estimated 200,000 Spaniards died from famine and disease.

Under the slogan “America First” — Trump’s mutable but aggressive tariff regime — the $1 billion or more in personal wealth he’s accumulated while in office, along with his repeated attempts to cut nutrition benefits in blue states and his administration’s anti-vaccine policies may appear to be disconnected. But together, they galvanize an autarkic strategy that threatens to debilitate the country’s health.

Weakening the mind

Franco’s dictatorship systematically purged, exiled and repressed the country’s intellectual class. Many were forced to emigrate. Those who stayed in the country, such as the artist Joan Miró, were forced to bury their messages deeply within symbols and metaphor to evade censorship.

Currently in the U.S., banned books, banned words and phrases, and the slashing of academic and research funding across disciplines are causing the U.S. to experience “brain drain,” an exodus of members of the nation’s highly educated and skilled classes.

Furthermore, Franco conjoined the church, the state and education into one. I am tracking analogous moves in the U.S. The conservative group Turning Point USA has an educational division whose goal is to “reclaim" K-12 curriculum with white Christian nationalism.

Ongoing legislation that mandates public classrooms to display the Ten Commandments similarly violates religious freedom guarantees ratified in the constitution.

Drawing comparisons

Trump has frequently expressed admiration for contemporary dictators and last week stated that “sometimes you need a dictator.”

It is true that his tactics do not perfectly mirror Francoism or any other past fascist regime. But the work of civil rights scholar Michelle Alexander reminds us that systems of control do not disappear. They morph, evolve and adapt to sneak into modern contexts in less detectable ways. I see fascism like this.

Consider some of the recent activities in Minneapolis, and ask how they would be described if they were taking place in any other country.

Unidentified masked individuals in unmarked cars are forcibly entering homes without judicial warrants. These agents are killing, shooting and roughing up people, sometimes while handcuffed. They are tear-gassing peaceful protesters, assaulting and killing legal observers, and throwing flash grenades at bystanders. They are disappearing people of color, including four Native Americans and a toddler as young as 2, shipping them off to detention centers where allegations of abuse, neglect, sexual assault and even homicide are now frequent.

Government officials have spun deceptive narratives, or worse, lied about the administration’s actions.

In the wake of the public and political backlash following the killing of Alex Pretti, Trump signaled he would reduce immigration enforcement operations] in Minneapolis, only to turn around and have Defense Secretary Pete Hegseth authorize the use of an old military base near St. Paul, suggesting potential escalation, not de-escalation. Saying one thing while doing the opposite is a classic fascist trick warned about in history and literature alike.

The world has seen these tactics before. History shows the precedent and then supplies the bad ending. Comparing past Francoism to present Trumpism connects the past to the present and warns us about what could come.

One venue, two speeches – how Mark Carney left Donald Trump in the dust in Davos

Mark Shanahan, University of Surrey

The meeting and venue were the same, but the style and tone of the two most anticipated keynote speeches at the World Economic Forum in the Swiss town of Davos could not have been more different. On Tuesday, January 20, Canadian prime minister Mark Carney addressed the assembled political and business leaders as one of them: a national leader with deep expertise in finance.

He spoke about a “rupture” in the world order and the duty of nations to come together through appropriate coalitions for the benefit of all. It was a paean to multilateralism, but one that recognised that the US would no longer provide the glue to hold alliances together. Carney never mentioned the US by name in his speech, instead talking of “great powers” and “hegemons”.

Carney’s quiet, measured and evocative case-making demonstrated his ability to be the leader France’s Emmanuel Macron would like to be and the UK’s Keir Starmer is too cautious to be. He was clear, unequivocal and unafraid of the bully below his southern border. In standing up to the US president, Donald Trump, he appeared every inch the statesperson.

Mark Carney delivers his speech at Davos, January 21 2026.

Then, on January 21, Trump took the stage. There was none of Carney’s self-awareness and nor did he read the room recognising the strengths, talents and economic power of the audience. Trump started with humour, noting he was talking to “friends and a few enemies”.

But he quickly shifted to a riff on the greatest hits of the first year of Trump 2.0 with the usual weaving away from his script down the rabbit holes of his perceived need for vengeance. Joe Biden still takes up far too much of Trump’s head space, but the next hour could be summed up as: “Trump great: everyone else bad.”

The president is the most amazing hype man for his own greatness, but it’s a zero-sum game. For him to win, others must lose, whether that’s the UK, Macron or the unnamed female prime minister of Switzerland whom he mocked for the poverty of her tariff negotiation skills. It’s worth noting Switzerland has no prime minister and its current president is a man.

While Carney was at pains to connect with his audience of allies, Trump exists happily in his own world where support – and sovereign territory – can be bought, and fealty trumps all. As ever, Trump played fast and loose with facts, wrapping real successes, aspirations and his unique view of the truth into a paean to himself.

He actually returned to his script to make the case for taking Greenland. The case is built on a notional need for “national and international security”, underscored by pointing out the territory is “in our hemisphere”. As so many commentators have said, collective security will do the job Trump insists that only the US can – and won’t require Denmark to cede territory. But Trump is sounding ever-less the rational actor.

Contrasting visions

The coming year is one of inflection for Trump’s presidency. His Republican party may well lose control of the House and possibly the Senate in the November midterms, which would severely curtail his ability to impose his will unfettered.

Trump is focused on his legacy and demands he’s up there with former US presidents Thomas Jefferson, James Monroe, James Polk and William McKinley, expanding the American empire and its physical footprint. This may be a step too far, even for a president with such vast economic and military power.

Donald Trump’ delivers his speech at Davos, January 21 2026.

Carney’s speech played well both at home and around the world. His line, “If we’re not at the table, we’re on the menu,” clearly resonated with his fellow western leaders. His vision for how “the power of legitimacy, integrity and rules will remain strong if we choose to wield them together”, also offered a positive vision in a dark time.

Trump told the audience that he would not use “excessive strength of force” to acquire Greenland. But, ever the real estate developer, he demanded “right, title and ownership” with an ominous threat: “You can say no – we will remember.”

As Trump laid out his grand vision of protecting and cherishing the rich and aligning nations to do America’s bidding, it was in stark contrast to Carney. The hyperbole and self-aggrandising, the insults and threats, and the singular vision of seeing the world only through the personal impact it has on him mark the US president out as remarkable, even exceptional.

But is this the exceptionalism the US wants? Is America about more than the strongman politics of economic and military coercion?

The immediate reaction in the US was relief, jumping on the line that Trump won’t take Greenland by force. It will be telling to look at the commentary as the country reflects on the president’s aim of lifting America up, seemingly by dragging the rest of the world down.

One leader donned the cloak of statesmanship at Davos this week. It wasn’t Donald Trump.The Conversation

Mark Shanahan, Associate Professor of Political Engagement, University of Surrey

This article is republished from The Conversation under a Creative Commons license. Read the original article.

These familiar steps show how Trump is walking us into autocracy

By Konstantin Zhukov, Assistant Professor of Economics, Indiana University; Institute for Humane Studies.

The FBI search of a Washington Post reporter’s home on Jan. 14, 2026, was a rare and intimidating move by an administration focused on repressing criticism and dissent.

In his story about the search at Hannah Natanson’s home, at which FBI agents said they were searching for materials related to a federal government contractor, Post reporter Perry Stein wrote that “it is highly unusual and aggressive for law enforcement to conduct a search on a reporter’s home.”

And Jameel Jaffer, director of the Knight First Amendment Institute at Columbia University, told the New York Times the raid was “intensely concerning,” and could have a chilling effect “on legitimate journalistic activity.”

Free speech and independent media play a vital role in holding governments accountable by informing the public about government wrongdoing.

This is precisely why autocrats like Russia’s Vladimir Putin have worked to silence independent media, eliminating checks on their power and extending their rule. In Russia, for example, public ignorance about Putin’s responsibility for military failures in the war on Ukraine has allowed state propaganda to shift blame to senior military officials instead.

While the United States remains institutionally far removed from countries like Russia, the Trump administration has taken troubling early steps toward autocracy by threatening — and in some cases implementing — restrictions on free speech and independent media.

Public ignorance, free speech and independent media

Ignorance about what public officials do exists in every political system.

In democracies, citizens often remain uninformed because learning about politics takes time and effort, while one vote rarely changes an election. American economist Anthony Downs called this “rational ignorance,” and it is made worse by complex laws and bureaucracy that few people fully understand.

As a result, voters often lack the information needed to monitor politicians or hold them accountable, giving officials more room to act in their own interest.

Free speech and independent media are essential for breaking this cycle. They allow citizens, journalists and opposition leaders to expose corruption and criticize those in power.

Open debate helps people share grievances and organize collective action, from protests to campaigns.

Independent media also act as watchdogs, investigating wrongdoing and raising the political cost of abuse – making it harder for leaders to get away with corruption or incompetence.

Public ignorance in autocracies

Autocrats strengthen their grip on power by undermining the institutions meant to keep them in check.

When free speech and independent journalism disappear, citizens are less likely to learn about government corruption or failures. Ignorance becomes the regime’s ally — it keeps people isolated and uninformed. By censoring information, autocrats create an information vacuum that prevents citizens from making informed choices or organizing protests.

This lack of reliable information also allows autocrats to spread propaganda and shape public opinion on major political and social issues.

Most modern autocrats have worked to silence free speech and crush independent media. When Putin came to power, he gradually shut down independent TV networks and censored opposition outlets. Journalists who exposed government corruption or brutality were harassed, prosecuted or even killed. New laws restricted protests and public criticism, while “foreign agent” rules made it nearly impossible for the few remaining independent media to operate.

At the same time, the Kremlin built a vast propaganda machine to shape public opinion. This control over information helped protect the regime during crises. As I noted in a recent article, many Russians were unaware of Putin’s responsibility for military failures in 2022. State media used propaganda to shift blame to the military leadership — preserving Putin’s popularity even as the war faltered.

Threat to independent media in the US

While the United States remains far from an autocracy, the Trump administration has taken steps that echo the behavior of authoritarian regimes.

Consider the use of lawsuits to intimidate journalists. In Singapore, former Prime Minister Lee Kuan Yew and his son, Lee Hsien Loong, routinely used civil defamation suits to silence reporters who exposed government repression or corruption. These tactics discouraged criticism and encouraged self-censorship.

President Donald Trump has taken a similar approach, seeking US$15 billion from the New York Times for publication of several allegedly “malicious” articles, and $10 billion from the Wall Street Journal. The latter suit concerns a story about a letter Trump reportedly signed in Jeffrey Epstein’s birthday book.

A court dismissed the lawsuit against the Times; that’s likely to happen with the Journal suit as well. But such lawsuits could deter reporting on government misconduct, reporting on the actions and statements of Trump’s political opponents, and the kind of criticism of an administration inherent in opinion journalism such as columns and editorials.

This problem is compounded by the fact that after ABC's Jimmy Kimmel was suspended following a threat from the Trump-aligned chairman of the Federal Communications Commission, the president suggested revoking the broadcast licenses of networks that air negative commentary about him.

Although Kimmel was later reinstated, the episode revealed how the administration could use the autocratic technique of bureaucratic pressure to suppress speech it disagreed with. Combined with efforts to prosecute the president’s perceived enemies through the Justice Department, such actions inevitably encourage media self-censorship and deepen public ignorance.

Threat to free speech

Autocrats often invoke “national security” to pass laws restricting free speech. Russia’s “foreign agents” law, passed in 2012, forced nongovernmental organizations with foreign funding to label themselves as such, becoming a tool for silencing dissenting advocacy groups. Its 2022 revision broadened the definition, letting the Kremlin target anyone who criticized the government.

Similar laws have appeared in Hungary, Georgia and Kyrgyzstan. Russia also uses vague “terrorist” and “extremist” designations to punish those who protest and dissent, all under the guise of “national security.”

After Charlie Kirk’s murder, the Trump administration took steps threatening free speech. It used the pretext of the “violence-inciting radical left” to call for a crackdown on what it designated as “hate speech,” threaten liberal groups, and designate antifa as a domestic terrorist organization.

The latter move is especially troubling, pushing the United States closer to the behavior characteristic of autocratic governments. The vagueness of the designation threatens to suppress free expression and opposition to the Trump administration.

Antifa is not an organization but a “decentralized collection of individual activists,” as scholar Stanislav Vysotsky describes it. The scope of those falling under the antifa label is widened by its identification with broad ideas, described in a national security memorandum issued by the Trump administration in the fall of 2025, like anti-Americanism, anti-capitalism, and anti-Christianity. This gives the government leeway to prosecute an unprecedented number of individuals for their speech.

As scholar Melinda Haas writes, the memorandum “pushes the limits of presidential authority by targeting individuals and groups as potential domestic terrorists based on their beliefs rather than their actions.”

These legal loopholes could let Trump use troops against protesters

By Jennifer Selin, Associate Professor of Law, Arizona State University.

As protesters and federal law enforcement clashed in Minneapolis on Jan. 14, 2026, in the wake of a second shooting of a civilian by federal agents, President Donald Trump threatened to invoke the Insurrection Act to send troops to Minnesota in response to protests.

This is not the first time Trump has suggested invoking the act.

Is Trump’s warning just bluster? Does the president have the authority to send the military into American cities?

The answer to this question involves a web of legal provisions that help define the president’s constitutional roles as commander in chief and chief executive of the country and that try to balance presidential power with the power of state leaders.

‘Protect states in times of violence’

Tracing back to the Magna Carta, the British charter of liberty signed in 1215, there is a longstanding tradition against military involvement in civilian affairs.

However, the U.S. Constitution guarantees that the national government will protect the states in times of violence and permits Congress to enact laws that enable the military to aid in carrying out the law.

Almost immediately after the Constitution’s enactment in 1787, Congress passed a law that allowed the president to use the military to respond to a series of citizen rebellions.

Troops serving as what’s called “posse comitatus,” which translates roughly to “attendants with the capacity to act,” could be called to suppress insurrections and help carry out federal laws.

Following the Civil War, the national government used troops in this capacity to aid in Reconstruction efforts, particularly in states that had been part of the Confederacy.

The use of troops in this manner may even have influenced the outcome of the 1876 presidential election of Republican Rutherford B. Hayes. That happened when, in return for agreeing to withdraw federal troops from the South, Democrats informally agreed to the election of Hayes when the disputed election was thrown to a congressional commission.

Two years later, Hayes signed into law the Posse Comitatus Act, which prohibited the use of the military in civilian matters.

The Posse Comitatus Act has not changed much since that time. The law prohibits the use of the military in civilian matters but, over time, Congress has passed at least 26 exemptions to the act that allow the president to send troops into states.

The exemptions range from providing military personnel to protect national parks to helping states in carrying out state quarantine and health laws.

Insurrection Act

One of these exemptions is the Insurrection Act, which governs certain circumstances when the president can use the military. Signed by Thomas Jefferson in 1807, Congress passed the law in order to help fight citizen rebellions against federal taxes.

Over time, the law has evolved to allow the use of troops in other circumstances. For example, Presidents Eisenhower, Kennedy and Johnson used the Insurrection Act in the 1950s and 1960s to send the military to enforce court desegregation orders and to protect civil rights marchers.

It was last invoked by President George H.W. Bush in 1992, when he ordered 4,500 troops to Los Angeles after rioting erupted in response to the acquittal of police officers charged with beating Rodney King.

The Insurrection Act says that the president may use the armed forces to subdue an insurrection or rebellion and take such measures as he considers necessary to suppress violence.

But before doing so, he must issue a proclamation ordering insurgents to disperse and return to their homes.

While state governors and legislatures also have the legal authority to ask the president to use troops in this manner, the states have preferred to rely on a combination of local law enforcement and the National Guard, which is under state command, not federal.

Not only does this strategy enable governors to maintain authority over their states, but it also keeps things more straightforward legally and politically.

In December 2025, the Supreme Court refused to let President Trump deploy the National Guard in response to protests against ICE in Illinois. Yet in a concurring opinion, Justice Brett Kavanagh noted, “As I read it, the Court’s opinion does not address the President’s authority under the Insurrection Act.”

Authority uncertain

Reliance on the Insurrection Act raises a host of legal, political and practical questions about who is in charge when the military sends troops into a state.

For example, despite the fact that the act was invoked in response to the Rodney King riots, the military actually was not used as directed. The Joint Task Force Commander in control of the mission appears to have been confused regarding how the Insurrection Act worked alongside the provisions of the Posse Comitatus Act. He issued an order prohibiting troops from directly supporting law enforcement and that led to numerous denials of requests for assistance.

Questions about the federal government’s authority in the wake of the 2005 Hurricane Katrina in Louisiana raised similar concerns.

The administration of President George W. Bush determined that it had authority under the Insurrection Act to send federal troops to the area, despite the fact that Louisiana’s governor was opposed to military assistance.

For political reasons, President Bush did not end up deploying troops but, in 2006, Congress amended the law to address concerns that the military was unable to provide effective assistance to states in emergency situations.

The amendment was later repealed when all 50 state governors raised objections to what they perceived as a grant of unilateral power to the president.

These examples suggest a real difficulty balancing governmental responses to domestic crises. States need the flexibility and authority to respond as they see fit to the needs of their citizens.

But the federal government can and often does serve as a supplemental resource. As the events of the past week illustrate, striking an effective balance is rarely a straightforward thing.

This story is an update to a story originally published on June 2, 2020.

'Full-on assault': Professor lays bare stakes amid Trump's takeover bid of Federal Reserve

The Department of Justice’s decision to open a criminal investigation into Federal Reserve chair Jerome Powell has reignited concern over the independence of the central bank.

In unusually blunt remarks, Powell described the unprecedented probe as part of a political attack by the White House over the Fed’s refusal to drastically cut interest rates, as President Donald Trump has long advocated.

But how unique are such apparent attempts to undermine the central bank’s authority? And what would be the consequences of chipping away at Fed independence? To understand what’s at stake, The Conversation turned to Cristina Bodea, a Michigan State University professor who has been studying central bank best practices for more than two decades.

How unique is this moment in American history?

It is unique in the sense that we haven’t seen a Fed chair criminally investigated ever.

But if we go back in history to the Nixon and Reagan years, presidents have put a lot of pressure on Fed chairs when economic conditions were bad – more precisely, there was high unemployment and high inflation.

In more recent history, Fed chairs and the U.S. Federal Reserve have enjoyed bipartisan support in being independent.

Why are central banks independent, and what is at stake?

Independence comes in two forms: legal and in practice. In the recent past, the laws governing central banks have tended to favor an arms-length relationship in which experts in these institutions look at the economic data and make interest rate decisions based on their mandate. If their mandate includes low inflation, they’re supposed to adjust interest rates based on their data so that they can achieve their goal in the medium term.

Legal independence means that the law governing the institution allows them to do this without politicians interfering in day-to-day operations. This does not mean that the institution is not accountable. The Fed is accountable to Congress, and the people who run the Fed are appointed by the president and voted on by the Senate

Then, there is the de facto independence. Because laws are debatable, what happens in practice can differ from the law, and there isn’t an application of the law to each and every instance in which an institution makes a decision.

In the past 30 years, the U.S. Federal Reserve has been more independent than the law suggests because there was a clear bipartisan consensus to not politicize the institution so that it could safeguard the country’s price environment and employment outcomes, without taking into account elections, electoral cycles and who is or isn’t in the White House.

Why do politicians seek to interfere with this independence?

Monetary policy is a fairly powerful tool, meaning that it can have fairly large and quick effects on outcomes. So, politicians would like to use it; the short-term political gains might include cheaper credit and somewhat more employment.

But it’s kind of a double-edged sword because politicians cannot fool people repeatedly. Along with people expecting politicians to use and misuse monetary policy comes inflation as well as an expectation of inflation. If people expect inflation rates to increase, they will adjust their expectations, and employment will only increase if your inflation expectations are stable.

It makes very little sense to put pressure on the Fed in the way that the current administration is – like a full-on assault, an attempt to take over the institution. The institution is useful. If you have an institution that is not a credible inflation fighter, it will actually not be able to stabilize employment either.

What are the stakes here for the American consumer?

The concern is inflation. Currently, data is ambiguous about the right monetary policy, and there are debates within the Fed about the right course of action. But there is no full-blown financial crisis or unemployment crisis.

Interest rates should not be lowered by 3 percentage points under these circumstances, as Trump has urged. Fairly drastic measures should be reserved for fairly drastic circumstances, and I don’t think we are in fairly drastic circumstances. If low interest rates are employed at this moment, you’re basically using all your ammunition on a moment that doesn’t seem to warrant using it.

We are at an uncertain juncture: There are risks to employment, tariffs can further damage the labor market, there is an affordability crisis. There could be an actual financial crisis in the future.

Lowering interest rates now would make the Fed’s interest rate instrument incapable of working should there be a true crisis in the near future.

Have we seen the independence of central banks under attack in other countries, or is this uniquely American?

This is not uniquely American, and has happened in countries like Turkey, Venezuela and Argentina. Central bank independence globally has been under attack, but not in democracies or in countries that claim to have strong institutions and rule of law.The Conversation

Cristina Bodea, Professor of Political Science, Michigan State University

This article is republished from The Conversation under a Creative Commons license. Read the original article.