In what appears to be a historic turnout, voters in Hungary ousted Viktor Orban!
This is great news for NATO and bad news for Trump and Putin, who lauded Orban as the future of Europe. MAGA loved Orban, who claimed to have created an “illiberal democracy.”
Orban was a European version of Trump, censoring or closing down anyone who disagreed with him. He harmed freedom of the press, universities, and the judiciary. He stridently opposed LGBT rights.
The victory of Peter Magyar, who seems to have won more than 2/3 of the seats in Parliament, means a new day for Hungary, NATO, and the European Union.
Azar Nafisi is a celebrated Iranian-American writer. Years ago, I read her best-selling book Reading Lolita in Tehran. I loved it. So did many other people; it was a bestselling book here (117 weeks on the New York Times‘ bestseller list) and in other countries. She became a professor of English literature in Iran after earning her degree at the University of Oklahoma. She came to the U. S. in 1997 and became an American citizen in 2008.
Because I have always loved her writing, I invited her to lecture at Wellesley College in my annual lecture series. We have become close friends, and I admire her and love her.
She wrote the following essay for TIME in early February, when many people were protesting the regime in the streets, before the American-Israeli war on Iran.
She wrote:
When a friend asked Henry James how he endured the devastation of World War I, the writer replied, “Feel, feel, feel all you can.” His exhortation contains the essence of what it means to remain human. Totalitarian regimes try to dismantle our capacity to feel, render us numb, confiscate our humanity, the way censors black out passages in books.
When I think of Iran, I think of light. I think of the play of light on leaves, on water, on mountains. I was born in Tehran, and when I looked out of the window of my living room, I would look at Mount Damavand, our tallest mountain peak, covered with a halo of snow. I think of that. And I think of our poetry nights in Tehran. I think of the writer and editor Houshang Golshiri teaching us classical Iranian poets during our poetry nights. I think of reading Ferdowsi and Nizami in our living room and the living rooms of my friends.
In December, the Iranians rose up in protest. The Islamic Republic spoke its only language: violence. And again the morgues and graveyards of Iran received fathers and sons, mothers and daughters. For me, as for millions of Iranians, this struggle is not political. It is existential. The first thing the Islamic Republic did, like any totalitarian system, was take away our right to live. They did it by literally killing people. And they did it by trying to reshape the citizens, turn us into figments of their imagination, to create a new Iranian.
I was teaching in Tehran during the revolution in 1979. I didn’t know myself at the time.
The Islamic Republic made me understand a lot of things by taking them away. They were confiscating my history and my identity as a human being. They were depriving us of contact with the world, making us believe that nobody cared about us. I felt the isolation they imposed upon us was a trap we could only escape by feeling, living, and resisting.
When I was leaving Tehran, my mother followed me around the apartment. “Tell them,” she kept saying, “tell them.” Tell the world what is happening to us. I had to write, as Primo Levi put it, “in order to rejoin the community of mankind.”
Last night I could not sleep. I kept thinking of three people. The only way I can repay my debt to them is to keep them alive through their stories. So I will tell you of Dr. Farrokhru Parsa. She was the principal of my high school in Tehran. She was very strict. She would stand at our high school door, checking the length of our uniforms. We would make poems and stories about her. She became, along with my mother, one of the first six women to be elected to the Iranian parliament in 1964. She became the minister of education, changed the representation of women in school textbooks, and significantly advanced the education of girls and women in Iran.
The Islamic Republic came for her. They charged her with crimes from “propagating corruption andprostitution” to “violating Islamic morality.” A revolutionary tribunal in Tehran declared her a “corruptor on earth” and sentenced her to death in May 1980. The legend is that they put her in a sack because you are not supposed to touch a woman and killed her by shooting at the sack. Some say they just hanged her or stoned her. It was a time when I felt immense despair. Many Iranians quote, what is believed to be Dr. Parsa’s last message from her prison cell to her children: “I am not going to bow to those who expect me to express regret for fifty years of my efforts for equality between men and women. I am not prepared to wear the chador and step back in history.”
I stayed in Iran. And that brings to me my second story, my second person. He was my student at Allameh Tabatabai University in Tehran, where I was teaching English literature during the war with Iraq. He had fought in the war and was very active in the Muslim Students Association, which worked as an instrument of ideological conformity and state control on campuses. He had the power to throw me out of the university. Or worse!
One day, as I was teaching Henry James, we heard this noise in the hall outside. Two students rushed in with the news: this young man had brought two cans of petrol with him, doused himself, and set himself on fire. “They have betrayed us,” he shouted. “They have betrayed us.” Some of my students made jokes when his body was being carried out. It made me very unhappy. I scolded them. “You don’t know what he has done,” a student retorted.
I realized there is another kind of death. The regime shapes us into its likeness, hardens the heart. I tried to convey that to my students through the teaching of the novel. A great novel is multi vocal and speaks on behalf of many. The novel threatens the lies of a totalitarian regime like the Islamic Republic. The novel nurtures curiosity and empathy.
My third story is about Razieh. I only remember her first name. In 1979, I was teaching contemporary American fiction at a small girls college in Tehran. Razieh was my student.
She was a practicing Muslim. Her mother was a cleaning lady. Her father was dead. She was a thin, small girl, with her veil framing her face. She was serious. I can see her face. Razieh would walk with me to the university gates and we would talk about Henry James and Jane Austen. She fell in love with Henry James. She loved the independent women in his stories. These women sacrificed their happiness but they did the right thing, she would say.
Razieh was curious. Curiosity, the desire to know another, is “insubordination in its purest form,” as Vladimir Nabokov said. You don’t accept just what is but seek what could be or should be. After that term, I moved to Tehran University. I saw Razieh once on the street. She gave me a sign not to talk to her. It was the year after the revolution, and the repression had started. Some years later, Mahtab, another former student of mine, came to see me at Allameh Tabataba’i University, where I was teaching at the time. She had been in jail but had been released for good behavior. She had met Razieh in jail.
Razieh and Mahtab had forged a bond in prison over their love of literature. Razieh would talk about Henry James; Mahtab would talk about F. Scott Fitzgerald. At a certain point in her telling, Mahtab paused. “You know, Razieh was executed.” I can still see her. Even in prison, even while waiting for her execution, Razieh chose life. She reached far beyond her prison cell through literature. Her bond with the novels and stories of Henry James transcended death and reaffirmed life.
When I lived in Iran my father would tell me that this country is very ancient and was invaded many times. What gives us identity and continuity, he would say, is our poetry stretching back hundreds of years to Ferdowsi, Hafiz, Jami, and Saadi. When this regime came to power, they did more than arrest and kill poets and writers.
They tried to erase our cultural memory. They tried to destroy the statue of Ferdowsi, our epic poet, and rename the street honoring Omar Khayyam, our poet, astronomer, and philosopher. But Iranian women stood in front of that street sign and would not let them change it. It was one small victory among countless defeats. The regime would call our cultural traditions pagan, but Iranians still make pilgrimages to the shrines of our poets.
The Islamic Republic of Iran is the Soviet Union of the Muslim World—a modern theocracy with imperialist ambition—and it is an ideology, a system that has failed. When I look at the younger generation in Iran, I see hope. The protests are both new and rooted in our history. Women have been fighting for freedoms, gaining ground despite oppression. What gives me hope is seeing women and men, the merchants and the retirees, all sections of Iranian society come together in the recent protests.
I have been thinking of Vaclav Havel, who wrote, “Hope is definitely not the same thing as optimism. It is not the conviction that something will turn out well, but the certainty that something makes sense, regardless of how it turns out.” The protesters in Iran show us that freedom is an ordeal, and you even pay for it with your life. As told to Basharat Peer
The Trump administration began in its earliest days to try to erase what it calls DEI (diversity, equity, and inclusion), which, in practice, means eliminating federal grants that acknowledge the existence of race, ethnicity, or gender, except for straight white men. Straight white women are usually okay, but recognizing the history, struggles and achievements of others is unacceptable in the Age of Trump.
Trump’s concept of “Make America Great Again” apparently means erasing those who deviate from his white straight ideal of the best days of America (think John Wayne).
An Underground Railroad museum in upstate New York alleged in a lawsuit Friday that the Trump administration unlawfully terminated its federal grant on the basis of race, pointing to President Donald Trump’s efforts to dismantle diversity-focused initiatives.
The Underground Railroad Education Center in Albany, New York, alleges that the National Endowment for the Humanities’cancelation of a $250,000 grant amounted to viewpoint and racial discrimination, violating the First and Fifth Amendments, respectively.
The lawsuit, filed in the U.S. District Court for the Northern District of New York, calls for the funds to be reinstated.
The suit cited Trump’s January 2025 executive orderthat required federal agencies to eliminate any operations supporting diversity, equity and inclusion (DEI) initiatives within 60 days. The 40-page brief outlined 1,400 grants that were terminated in early April 2025 “for their conflict with President Trump’s EOs and the new agency priorities adopted in their wake.”
Nina Loewenstein, a lawyer for the museum, told NBC News that there is “just no legitimate basis” for the grant’s cancellation, adding that it is “just explicitly erasing things associated with the Black race.”
Loewenstein and the team of lawyers volunteering on the case through Lawyers for Good Government, an organization that provides free legal services for civil and human rights cases, argued that the Underground Railroad Education Center is just one of thousands of organizations that have been unlawfully targeted by the Trump administration.
Robert Reich shared Jesse Jackson’s speech to the Democratic National Convention on July 19, 1988. At that time, Jackson sounded like a radical to some people. He spoke forthrightly, succinctly, and plainly.
Today, nothing in his speech sounds remotely radical. It sounds like common-sense, like the words that you expect to hear from every Democratic candidate and even some Republicans.
He was, at the time, a visionary.
And yet today, the bedrock ideas he espoused are under challenge by the Trump administration. Trump wants to roll the clock backwards, back to the 1920s, when white men ran everything.
Jesse Jackson looked forward and saw a better America coming into view.
Now it’s up to us to recapture and restore that better vision of America, one where everyone can live in dignity.
Jesse Jackson said:
Tonight, we pause and give praise and honor to God for being good enough to allow us to be at this place, at this time. When I look out at this convention, I see the face of America: Red, Yellow, Brown, Black and White. We are all precious in God’s sight – the real rainbow coalition.
(Applause)
All of us – all of us who are here think that we are seated. But we’re really standing on someone’s shoulders. Ladies and gentlemen, Mrs. Rosa Parks. (Applause) The mother of the civil rights movement. [Mrs. Rosa Parks was brought to the podium.]
I want to express my deep love and appreciation for support my family has given me over the past months. They have endured pain, anxiety, threat and fear. But they have been strengthened and made secure by our faith in God, in America, and in you. Your love has protected us and made us strong. To my wife Jackie, the foundation of our family; to our five children whom you met tonight; to my mother, Mrs. Helen Jackson, who is present tonight; and to our grandmother, Mrs. Matilda Burns; to my brother Chuck and his family; to my mother-in-law, Mrs. Gertrude Brown, who just last month at age 61 graduated from Hampton Institute – A marvelous achievement. (Applause)
I offer my appreciation to Mayor Andrew Young who has provided such gracious hospitality to all of us this week.
And a special salute to President Jimmy Carter. (Applause) President Carter restored honor to the White House after Watergate. He gave many of us a special opportunity to grow. For his kind words, for his unwavering commitment to peace in the world, and for the votes that came from his family, every member of his family, led Billy and Amy, I offer special thanks to the Carter family.
(Applause)
My right and my privilege to stand here before you has been won, won in my lifetime, by the blood and the sweat of the innocent.
Twenty-four years ago, the late Fannie Lou Hamer and Aaron Henry – who sits here tonight from Mississippi – were locked out into the streets in Atlantic City; the head of the Mississippi Freedom Democratic Party.
But tonight, a Black and White delegation from Mississippi is headed by Ed Cole, a Black man from Mississippi; 24 years later. (Applause)
Many were lost in the struggle for the right to vote: Jimmy Lee Jackson, a young student, gave his life; Viola Liuzzo, a White mother from Detroit, called nigger lover, had her brains blown out at point blank range; [Michael] Schwerner, [Andrew] Goodman and [James] Chaney – two Jews and a Black – found in a common grave, boddies riddled with bullets in Mississippi; the four darling little girls in a church in Birmingham, Alabama. They died that we might have a right to live.
Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. lies only a few miles from us tonight. Tonight he must feel good as he looks down upon us. We sit here together, a rainbow, a coalition – the sons and daughters of slavemasters and the sons and daughters of slaves, sitting together around a common table, to decide the direction of our party and our country. His heart would be full tonight.
As a testament to the struggles of those who have gone before; as a legacy for those who will come after; as a tribute to the endurance, the patience, the courage of our forefathers and mothers; as an assurance that their prayers are being answered, their work have not been in vain, and hope is eternal; tomorrow night my name will go into nomination for the Presidency of the United States of America.
We meet tonight at the crossroads, a point of decision. Shall we expand, be inclusive, find unity and power; or suffer division and impotence?
We’ve come to Atlanta, the cradle of the old South, the crucible of the new South. Tonight, there is a sense of celebration, because we are moved, fundamentally moved from racial battlegrounds by law, to economic common ground. Tomorrow we will challenge to move to higher ground.
Common ground! Think of Jerusalem, the intersection where many trails met. A small village that became the birthplace for three religions – Judaism, Christianity and Islam. Why was this village so blessed? Because it provided a crossroads there different people met, different cultures, different civilizations could meet and find common ground. When people come together, flowers always flourish – the air is rich with the aroma of a new spring.
Take New York, the dynamic metropolis. What makes New York so special? It’s the invitation of the Statue of Liberty, “Give me your tired, your poor, your huddled masses who yearn to breathe free.” Not restricted to English only. (Applause) Many people, many cultures, many languages – with one thing in common, they yearn to breathe free. Common ground!
Tonight in Atlanta, for the first time in this century, we convene in the South; a state where Governors once stood in school house doors; where Julian Bond was denied a seal in the State Legislature because of his conscientious objection to the Vietnam War; a city that, through its five Black Universities, has graduated more black students than any city in the world. (Applause) Atlanta, now a modern intersection of the new South.
Common ground! That’s the challenge of our party tonight. Left wing. Right wing.
Progress will not come through boundless liberalism nor static conservatism, but at the critical mass of mutual survival – not at boundless liberalism nor static conservatism, but at the critical mass of mutual survival. It takes two wings to fly. Whether you’re a hawk or a dove, you’re just a bird living in the same environment, in the same world.
The Bible teaches that when lions and lambs lie down together, none will be afraid and there will be peace in the valley. It sounds impossible. Lions eat lambs. Lambs sensibly flee from lions. Yet when even lions and lambs will find common ground. Why? Because neither lions nor lambs can survive nuclear war. If lions and lambs can find common ground, surely we can as well – as civilized people. (Applause)
The only time that we win is when we come together. In 1960, John Kennedy, the late John Kennedy, beat Richard Nixon by only 112,000 votes – less than one vote per precinct. He won by the margin of our hope. He brought us together. He reached out. He had the courage to defy his advisors and inquire about Dr. King’s jailing in Albany, Georgia. We won by the margin of our hope, inspired by courageous leadership.
In 1964, Lyndon Johnson brought wings together – the thesis, the antithesis, and the creative synthesis – and together we won.
In 1976, Jimmy Carter unified us again, and we won. When do we not come together, we never win.
In 1968, the vision and despair in July led to our defeat in November. In 1980, rancor in the spring and the summer led to Reagan in the fall.
When we divide, we cannot win. We must find common ground as the basis for survival and development and change, and growth. (Applause)
Today when we debated, differed, deliberated, agreed to agree, agree to disagree, when we had the good judgment to argue a case and then not self-destruct, George Bush was just a little further away from the White House and a little closer to private life. (Applause)
Tonight I salute Governor Michael Dukakis. (Applause) He has run – He has run a well-managed and a dignified campaign. No matter how tired or how tried, he always resisted the temptation to stoop to demagoguery.
I’ve watched a good mind fast at work, with steel nerves, guiding his campaign out of the crowded field without appeal to the worst in us. I have watched his perspective grow as his environment has expanded. I’ve seen his toughness and tenacity close up. I know his commitment to public service. Michael Dukakis’ parents were a doctor and a teacher; my parents a maid, a beautician and a janitor. There’s a great gap between Brookline, Massachusetts and Haney Street in the Fieldcrest Village housing projects in Greenville, South Carolina. (Applause)
He studied law; I studied theology. There are differences of religion, region, and race; differences in experiences and perspectives. But the genius of America is that out of the many we become one.
Providence has enabled our paths to intersect. His foreparents came to America on immigrant ships; my foreparents came to America on slave ships. But whatever the original ships, we’re in the same boat tonight. (Applause) Our ships could pass in the night– if we have a false sense of independence– or they could collide and crash. We could lose our passengers. But we can seek a high reality and a greater good.
Apart, we can drift on the broken pieces of Reagonomics, satisfy our baser instincts, and exploit the fears of our people. At our highest we can call upon noble instincts and navigate this vessel to safety. The greater good is the common good.
As Jesus said, “Not My will, but Thine be done.” It was his way of saying there’s a higher good beyond personal comfort or position.
The good of our Nation is at stake. It’s commitment to working men and women, to the poor and the vulnerable, to the many in the world.
With so many guided missiles, and so much misguided leadership, the stakes are exceedingly high. Our choice? Full participation in a democratic government, or more abandonment and neglect. And so this night, we choose not a false sense of independence, and our capacity to survive and endure. Tonight we choose interdependency, and our capacity to act and unite for the greater good.
Common good is finding commitment to new priorities to expansion and inclusion. A commitment to expanded participation in the Democratic Party at every level. A commitment to a shared national campaign strategy and involvement at every level.
A commitment to new priorities that insure that hope will be kept alive. A common ground commitment to a legislative agenda for empowerment, for the John Conyers bill– universal, on-site, same-day registration everywhere. (Applause) A commitment to D.C. statehood and empowerment– D.C. deserves statehood. (Applause) A commitment to economic set-asides, commitment to the Dellums bill for comprehensive sanctions against South Africa. (Applause) A shared commitment to a common direction.
Common ground! Easier said than done. Where do you find common ground? At the point of challenge. This campaign has shown that politics need not be marketed by politicians, packaged by pollsters and pundits. Politics can be a moral arena where people come together to find common ground.
We find common ground at the plant gate that closes on workers without notice. We find common ground at the farm auction, where a good farmer loses his or her land to bad loans or diminishing markets. Common ground at the school yard where teachers cannot get adequate pay, and students cannot get a scholarship, and can’t make a loan. Common ground at the hospital admitting room, where somebody tonight is dying because they cannot afford to go upstairs to a bed that’s empty waiting for someone with insurance to get sick. We are a better nation than that. We must do better. (Applause)
Common ground. What is leadership if not present help in a time of crisis? So I met you at the point of challenge. In Jay, Maine, where paper workers were striking for fair wages; in Greenville, Iowa, where family farmers struggle for a fair price; in Cleveland, Ohio, where working women seek comparable worth; in McFarland, California, where the children of Hispanic farm workers may be dying from poisoned land, dying in clusters with cancer; in an AIDS hospice in Houston, Texas, where the sick support one another, too often rejected by their own parents and friends.
Common ground. America is not a blanket woven from one thread, one color, one cloth. When I was a child growing up in Greenville, South Carolina my grandmama could not afford a blanket, she didn’t complain and we did not freeze. Instead she took pieces of old cloth – patches, wool, silk, gabardine, crockersack – only patches, barely good enough to wipe off your shoes with. But they didn’t stay that way very long. With sturdy hands and a strong cord, she sewed them together into a quilt, a thing of beauty and power and culture. Now, Democrats, we must build such a quilt.
Farmers, you seek fair prices and you are right – but you cannot stand alone. Your patch is not big enough. Workers, you fight for fair wages, you are right – but your patch of labor is not big enough. Women, you seek comparable worth and pay equity, you are right – but your patch is not big enough. (Applause)
Women, mothers, who seek Head Start, and day care and prenatal care on the front side of life, relevant jail care and welfare on the back side of life – you are right – but your patch is not big enough. Students, you seek scholarships, you are right – but your patch is not big enough. Blacks and Hispanics, when we fight for civil rights, we are right – but our patch is not big enough.
Gays and lesbians, when you fight against discrimination and a cure for AIDS, you are right – but your patch is not big enough. Conservatives and progressives, when you fight for what you believe, right wing, left wing, hawk, dove, you are right from your point of view, but your point of view is not enough.
But don’t despair. Be as wise as my grandmama. Pull the patches and the pieces together, bound by a common thread. When we form a great quilt of unity and common ground, we’ll have the power to bring about health care and housing and jobs and education and hope to our Nation. (Standing ovation)
We, the people, can win!
We stand at the end of along dark night of reaction. We stand tonight united in the commitment to a new direction. For almost eight years we’ve been led by those who view social good coming from private interest, who view public life as a means to increase private wealth. They have been prepared to sacrifice the common good of the many to satisfy the private interests and the wealth of a few.
We believe in a government that’s a tool of our democracy in service to the public, not an instrument of the aristocracy in search of private wealth. We believe in government with the consent of the government with the consent of the governed, “of, for and by the people.” We must now emerge into a new day with a new direction.
Reaganomics. Based on the belief that the rich had too little money and the poor had too much. That’s classic Reaganomics. They believe that the poor had too much money and the rich had too little money so they engaged in reverse Robin Hood – took from the poor and gave to the rich, paid for by the middle class. We cannot stand four more years of Reaganomics in any version, in any disguise.(Applause)
How do I document that case? Seven years later, the richest 1 percent of our society pays 20 percent less in taxes. The poorest 10 percent pay 20 percent more. Reaganomics.
Reagan gave the rich and the powerful a multibillion-dollar party. Now the party’s over, he expects the people to pay for the damage. I take this principal position, convention, let us not raise taxes on the poor and the middle-class, but those who had the party, the rich and the powerful must pay for the party. (Applause)
I just want to take common sense to high places. We’re spending $150 billion a year defending Europe and Japan 43 years after the war is over. We have more troops in Europe tonight than we had seven years ago. Yet the threat of war is ever more remote.
Germany and Japan are now creditor nations; that means they’ve got a surplus. We are a debtor nation. It means we are in debt. Let them share more of the burden of their own defense. Use some of that money to build decent housing. Use some of that money to educate our children. Use some of that money for long-term health care. Use some of that money to wipe out these slums and put America back to work! (Applause)
I just want to take common sense to high places. If we can bail out Europe and Japan; if we can bail out Continental Bank and Chrysler– and Mr. Iaccoca, makes $8,000 an hour, we can bail out the family farmer. (Applause)
I just want to make common sense. It does not make sense to close down 650,000 family farms in this country while importing food from abroad subsidized by the U.S. Government. Let’s make sense.(Applause)
It does not make sense to be escorting all our tankers up and down the Persian Gulf paying $2.50 for every $1 worth of oil we bring out, while oil wells are capped in Texas, Oklahoma and Louisiana. I just want to make sense.(Applause)
Leadership must meet the moral challenge of its day. What’s the moral challenge of our day? We have public accommodations. We have the right to vote.
We have open housing. What’s the fundamental challenge of our day? It is to end economic violence. Plant closings without notice– economic violence. Even the greedy do not profit long from greed– economic violence.
Most poor people are not lazy. They are not black. They are not brown. They are mostly White and female and young. But whether White, Black or Brown, a hungry baby’s belly turned inside out is the same color– color it pain, color it hurt, color it agony.
Most poor people are not on welfare. Some of them are illiterate and can’t read the want-ad sections. And when they can, they can’t find a job that matches the address. They work hard everyday. I know, I live amongst them. They catch the early bus. They work every day. They raise other people’s children. They work everyday.
They clean the streets. They work everyday. They drive dangerous cabs. They change the beds you slept in in these hotels last night and can’t get a union contract. They work everyday. (Applause)
No, no, they’re not lazy. Someone must defend them because it’s right and they cannot speak for themselves. They work in hospitals. I know they do. They wipe the bodies of those who are sick with fever and pain. They empty their bedpans. They clean out their commodes. No job is beneath them, and yet when they get sick they cannot lie in the bed they made up every day. America, that is not right (Applause) We are a better Nation than that! (Applause)
We need a real war on drugs. You can’t “just say no.” It’s deeper than that. You can’t just get a palm reader or an astrologer. It’s more profound than that.(Applause)
We are spending $150 billion on drugs a year. We’ve gone from ignoring it to focusing on the children. Children cannot buy $150 billion worth of drugs a year; a few high-profile athletes– athletes are not laundering $150 billion a year– bankers are.(Applause)
I met the children in Watts who unfortunately, in their despair, their grapes of hope have become raisins of despair, and they’re turning on each other and they’re self-destructing. But I stayed with them all night long. I wanted to hear their case.
They said, “Jesse Jackson, as you challenge us to say no to drugs, you’re right; and to not sell them, you’re right; and to not use these guns, you’re right.” And by the way, the promise of CETA; they displaced CETA– they did not replace CETA. “We have neither jobs nor houses nor services nor training; no way out.
“Some of us take drugs as anesthesia for our pain. Some take drugs as a way of pleasure, good short-term pleasure and long-term pain. Some sell drugs to make money. It’s wrong, we know, but you need to know that we know. We can go and buy the drugs by the boxes at the port. If we can buy the drugs at the port, don’t you believe the Federal government can stop it if they want to?” (Applause)
They say, “We don’t have Saturday night specials anymore. They say, We buy AK47’s and Uzi’s, the latest make of weapons. We buy them across the along these boulevards.”
You cannot fight a war on drugs unless until you’re going to challenge the bankers and the gun sellers and those who grow them. Don’t just focus on the children, let’s stop drugs at the level of supply and demand. We must end the scourge on the American Culture! (Applause)
Leadership. What difference will we make? Leadership. We cannot just go along to get along. We must do more than change Presidents. We must change direction.
Leadership must face the moral challenge of our day. The nuclear war build-up is irrational. Strong leadership cannot desire to look tough and let that stand in the way of the pursuit of peace. Leadership must reverse the arms race. At least we should pledge no first use. Why? Because first use begets first retaliation. And that’s mutual annihilation. That’s not a rational way out.
No use at all. Let’s think it out and not fight it our because it’s an unwinnable fight. Why hold a card that you can never drop? Let’s give peace a chance.
Leadership. We now have this marvelous opportunity to have a breakthrough with the Soviets. Last year 200,000 Americans visited the Soviet Union. There’s a chance for joint ventures in space– not Star Wars and war arms escalation but a space defense initiative. Let’s build in space together and demilitarize the heavens. There’s a way out.
America, let us expand. When Mr. Reagan and Mr. Gorbachev met there was a big meeting. They represented together one-eighth of the human race. Seven-eighths of the human race was locked out of that room. Most people in the world tonight– half are Asian, one-half of them are Chinese. There are 22 nations in the Middle East. There’s Europe; 40 million Latin Americans next door to us; the Caribbean; Africa– a half-billion people.
Most people in the world today are Yellow or Brown or Black, non-Christian, poor, female, young and don’t speak English in the real world.
This generation must offer leadership to the real world. We’re losing ground in Latin America, Middle East, South Africa because we’re not focusing on the real world. That’s the real world. We must use basic principles, support international law. We stand the most to gain from it. Support human rights; we believe in that. Support self-determination, we’re built on that. Support economic development, you know it’s right. Be consistent and gain our moral authority in the world. I challenge you tonight, my friends, let’s be bigger and better as a Nation and as a Party! (Applause)
We have basic challenges – freedom in South Africa. We have already agreed as Democrats to declare South Africa to be a terrorist state. But don’t just stop there. Get South Africa out of Angola; free Namibia; support the front line states. We must have a new humane human rights consistent policy in Africa.
I’m often asked, “Jesse, why do you take on these tough issues? They’re not very political. We can’t win that way.”
If an issue is morally right, it will eventually be political. It may be political and never be right. Fanny Lou Hamer didn’t have the most votes in Atlantic City, but her principles have outlasted the life of every delegate who voted to lock her out. Rosa Parks did not have the most votes, but she was morally right. Dr. King didn’t have the most votes about the Vietnam War, but he was morally right. If we are principled first, our politics will fall in place. “Jesse, why do you take these big bold initiatives?” A poem by an unknown author went something like this: “We mastered the air, we conquered the sea, annihilated distance and prolonged life, but we’re not wise enough to live on this earth without war and without hate.”
As for Jesse Jackson: “I’m tired of sailing my little boat, far inside the harbor bar. I want to go out where the big ships float, out on the deep where the great ones are. And should my frail craft prove too slight for waves that sweep those billows o’er, I’d rather go down in the stirring fight than drowse to death at the sheltered shore.”
We’ve got to go out, my friends, where the big boats are. (Applause)
And then for our children. Young America, hold your head high now. We can win. We must not lose to the drugs, and violence, premature pregnancy, suicide, cynicism, pessimism and despair. We can win. Wherever you are tonight, now I challenge you to hope and to dream. Don’t submerge your dreams. Exercise above all else, even on drugs, dream of the day you are drug free. Even in the gutter, dream of the day that you will be up on your feet again.
You must never stop dreaming. Face reality, yes, but don’t stop with the way things are. Dream of things as they ought to be. Dream. Face pain, but love, hope, faith and dreams will help you rise above the pain. Use hope and imagination as weapons of survival and progress, but you keep on dreaming, young America. Dream of peace. Peace is rational and reasonable. War is irrational in this age, and unwinnable.
Dream of teachers who teach for life and not for a living. Dream of doctors who are concerned more about public health than private wealth. Dream of lawyers more concerned about justice than a judgeship. Dream of preachers who are concerned more about prophecy than profiteering. Dream on the high road with sound values.
And then America, as we go forth to September, October, November and then beyond, America must never surrender to a high moral challenge.
Do not surrender to drugs. The best drug policy is a “no first use.” Don’t surrender with needles and cynicism. (Applause) Let’s have “no first use” on the one hand, or clinics on the other. Never surrender, young America. Go forward.
America must never surrender to malnutrition. We can feed the hungry and clothe the naked. We must never surrender. We must go forward.
We must never surrender to inequality. Women cannot compromise ERA or comparable worth. Women are making 60 cents on the dollar to what a man makes. Women cannot buy meat cheaper. Women cannot buy bread cheaper. Women cannot buy milk cheaper. Women deserve to get paid for the work that you do. (Applause) It’s right and it’s fair. (Applause)
Don’t surrender, my friends. Those who have AIDS tonight, you deserve our compassion. Even with AIDS you must not surrender.
In your wheelchairs. I see you sitting here tonight in those wheelchairs. I’ve stayed with you. I’ve reached out to you across our Nation. Don’t you give up. I know it’s tough sometimes. People look down on you. It took you a little more effort to get here tonight. And no one should look down on you, but sometimes mean people do. The only justification we have for looking down on someone is that we’re going to stop and pick them up.
But even in your wheelchairs, don’t you give up. We cannot forget 50 years ago when our backs were against the wall, Roosevelt was in a wheelchair. I would rather have Roosevelt in a wheelchair than Reagan and Bush on a horse. (Applause) Don’t you surrender and don’t you give up. Don’t surrender and don’t give up!
Why I cannot challenge you this way? “Jesse Jackson, you don’t understand my situation. You be on television. You don’t understand. I see you with the big people. You don’t understand my situation.”
I understand. You see me on TV, but you don’t know the me that makes me, me. They wonder, “Why does Jesse run?” because they see me running for the White House. They don’t see the house I’m running from. (Applause)
I have a story. I wasn’t always on television. Writers were not always outside my door. When I was born late one afternoon, October 8th, in Greenville, South Carolina, no writers asked my mother her name. Nobody chose to write down our address. My mama was not supposed to make it, and I was not supposed to make it. You see, I was born of a teen-age mother, who was born of a teen-age mother.
I understand. I know abandonment, and people being mean to you, and saying you’re nothing and nobody and can never be anything.
I understand. Jesse Jackson is my third name. I’m adopted. When I had no name, my grandmother gave me her name. My name was Jesse Burns until I was 12. So I wouldn’t have a blank space, she gave me a name to hold me over. I understand when nobody knows your name. I understand when you have no name.
I understand. I wasn’t born in the hospital. Mama didn’t have insurance. I was born in the bed at [the] house. I really do understand. Born in a three-room house, bathroom in the backyard, slop jar by the bed, no hot and cold running water.
I understand. Wallpaper used for decoration? No. For a windbreaker. I understand. I’m a working person’s person. That’s why I understand you whether you’re Black or White.
I understand work. I was not born with a silver spoon in my mouth. I had a shovel programmed for my hand.
My mother, a working woman. So many of the days she went to work early, with runs in her stockings. She knew better, but she wore runs in her stockings so that my brother and I could have matching socks and not be laughed at at school. I understand.
At 3 o’clock on Thanksgiving Day, we couldn’t eat turkey because momma was preparing somebody else’s turkey at 3 o’clock. We had to play football to entertain ourselves. And then around 6 o’clock she would get off the Alta Vista bus and we would bring up the leftovers and eat our turkey– leftovers, the carcass, the cranberries– around 8 o’clock at night. I really do understand.
Every one of these funny labels they put on you, those of you who are watching this broadcast tonight in the projects, on the corners, I understand. Call you outcast, low down, you can’t make it, you’re nothing, you’re from nobody, subclass, underclass; when you see Jesse Jackson, when my name goes in nomination, your name goes in nomination. (Applause)
I was born in the slum, but the slum was not born in me. (Applause) And it wasn’t born in you, and you can make it. (Applause)
Wherever you are tonight, you can make it. Hold your head high, stick your chest out. You can make it. It gets dark sometimes, but the morning comes. Don’t you surrender. Suffering breeds character, character breeds faith. In the end faith will not disappoint.
You must not surrender. You may or may not get there but just know that you’re qualified. And you hold on, and hold out. We must never surrender. America will get better and better.
Keep hope alive. (Applause) Keep hope alive. (Applause) Keep hope alive. On tomorrow night and beyond, keep hope alive! (Applause)
I love you very much. (Applause) I love you very much. (Standing ovation and spontaneous demonstration)
Trump is determined to punish states and cities that didn’t vote for him. So he sent large numbers of masked ICE agents to bully, beat, harass, and intimidate people in blue places, while recklessly killing two protestors.
He unleashed his fury on Minneapolis, sending in 3,000 ICE agents. They must have been trained to act like Brown Shirts because they do. They don’t just arrest people. They grab them, throw them to the ground, punch them, kick them, ziptie them, toss them into a van, picking up people who “look like” immigrants, and disappear them.
The people of Minneapolis resisted. They resisted with such determination that they forced Trump to back down. DHS announced that it will pull its occupying force out of Minneapolis. Everyone is waiting to see if ICE is really leaving. They will believe it when they see it.
Other cities and communities can learn from Minneapolis. The ICE bullies may soon be sent to your city, your community.
The resistance began immediately. People set up an alarm system, letting others know where ICE was operating. People protected their neighborhoods and communities. They turned out to blow whistles, to film ICE actions on their cell phones, and peacefully protest by their presence
Wherever ICE went, volunteers documented what they did. These videos proved to be powerful evidence of ICE brutality and lies.
Renee Good was murdered at one such protest. The White House and Department of Homeland Security called her a domestic terrorist and said she tried to run over an ICE agent, but multiple videos proved that they were lying.
Alex Pretti was murdered when he tried to help a fellow protestor who had been knocked on her back by ICE goons. He was filming with his cellphone. They called him a terrorist and an assassin, but again they were lying.
The people of Minneapolis treated each other as friends and neighbors and organized a powerful resistance. Volunteers organized to deliver food to people afraid to leave home. They drove people who were afraid to take public transit.
Schools protected their students as best they could. Many children from immigrant families were afraid to leave home. The schools went online to keep them learning. Schools stockpiled food for students and their families; volunteers delivered it. Teachers made home visits to check on students.
Columbia Academy, a middle school in Columbia Heights, a Minneapolis suburb, became “a food bank, a counseling hotline, a missing persons task force, an immigration resource center and a refuge.”
Leslee Sheri, the principal of the school in Columbia Heights, a five-school district, said:
“We are the first call,” said Sherk, a first-year principal who has worked in the district for two decades. “They don’t call the police. They don’t even sometimes call their neighbors or different organizations. They call the school.”
Neighbors helped neighbors. Neighbors helped strangers. The people of Minneapolis reacted with surprising solidarity in opposition to the aggressive militarization of their city.
They stood up, often in bitter cold, spoke out, protected the vulnerable, and demonstrated what democracy, courage l, and compassion looks like.
Italia Fittante is a high school literature teacher in Minneapolis. This essay was published by Education Week. Trump promised during his campaign to deport “the worst of the worst,” criminals, rapists, murderers. Instead he has put a target on the back of every immigrant, no matter how long they have lived here, no matter how much they have contributed to society. Our children are experiencing a reign of terror.
One of my seniors walked into my classroom after school yesterday. He needed an extension on his final project, and I could see he’d been working up the nerve to ask me.
His parents haven’t left the house in over a week for fear of being stopped by immigration agents, which means someone has to work. At 17, that someone is him. After school every weekday and all day on weekends, every week, because the bills don’t stop.
He carries his U.S. passport everywhere now, tucked in his pocket, transferred from his jeans to his school uniform and back again, refusing to let it out of his sight even in my classroom. He’s been stopped twice on his walk home from work by masked men and women in unmarked cars, demanding he prove his right to exist in the country where he was born.
He wants to go to medical school; he’s always dreamt of being a doctor. He told me about the university in Mexico holding a spot for him, the contingency plan he never thought he’d need. Just in case things get worse here and he has to follow his parents across the border, just in case his future is decided by policy instead of potential.
I told him to forget the deadline.
Another one of my seniors came to me early Tuesday morning before class started, her eyes hollowed out and bloodshot from lack of sleep. She was concerned about making up a reading quiz she had missed the day before.
In tears, she explained to me that she was working the register at a fast-food restaurant over the weekend when ICE agents burst through the doors midshift. They pushed past her, forced their way into the back of the restaurant, and violently detained two of her co-workers. Nobody knows where they went, when they’re coming back, or if they’re coming back at all.
She told me she hadn’t slept since the raid. This student, who immigrated with her family to the United States just three years ago, described being paralyzed with fear.
I told her to forget the quiz.
The past few weeks in Minnesota have been marked by relentless federal immigration operations. Agents operate openly and without restraint. This week alone, ICE detained multiple students from a neighboring district, one as young as 5 years old. Children and teenagers have been taken on their way to school, from driveways and from cars. My students live with the constant awareness that anyone they love could be taken at any moment. They themselves could be next.
What we’re asking these kids to do seems impossible. Show up. Focus. Read about the American Dream in Advanced Placement Literature while you wonder if your father will be deported before graduation. Solve for x while you’re solving how to pay the electric bill. Write your college application essay about overcoming adversity while doubting you’ll survive it.
They already come to school knowing they might die there. We’ve made peace with that somehow. Lockdown drills and barricading doors are routine. My students can tell you the difference between shots fired in the building versus shots fired nearby. At the beginning of the school year, two elementary students were killed during mass at a Catholic school just miles from us. Before the media even covered it, my students were calling their parents. I could hear them crying in the halls, in my classroom.
Some of them knew the victims. Now, they come to school and know which corner of each room has the best cover. They are 17 years old and fluent in survival tactics.
My students carry U.S. passports in their pockets like keys to a house where the locks keep changing, navigating their own city like it’s hostile territory. Their walks to and from school are haunted by the persistent possibility that they’ll come home to silence, their parents taken by masked strangers who leave no forwarding address.
We’re creating a generation of students from immigrant families who understand exactly how little this country values their safety.
They’re learning the lesson we’re teaching, even if it’s not the one we claim to be giving. They understand the message we’re sending when we demand their labor and their silence and their gratitude, all while treating their existence as conditional and their families as disposable. How can we expect them to love their country when those in power have made it clear their country doesn’t love them back?
The curriculum is clear. Documentation determines dignity, and borders determine which families matter. Authority needs no accountability, not when violence can be rebranded as policy if it advances “our” goals.
My students understand what’s happening because they’re living it. The stakes are clearer to them than to most adults I know. They don’t need explanations or sympathy or platitudes or extensions. They need safety without surveillance, because this country is theirs, too. No child should have to carry identification to prove their right to exist.
What sort of nation terrorizes children and calls it enforcement? That demands loyalty while offering nothing but fear? My students already know the answer. They learned it the moment they started carrying passports in their pockets.
The deployment of ICE to detain and arrest undocumented immigrants threatens to become a war against U.S. citizens who object to ICE’s brutal tactics. We have all seen the videos of ICE agents smashing car windows, knocking men and women to the ground, grabbing women by their hair, pummeling people on the ground, operating in teams of 5 or 6 as they beat up those they choose.
The Fourth Amendment to the Constitution forbids ICE from entering homes. This article appeared on the blog CAFE, where seasoned prosecutors and law professors comment on matters of law and hold the federal government accountable.
No ICE Cannot Enter Your Home Without a Warrant — and Why Doing So Is Very Dangerous For All of Us By Perry A. Carbone and Mimi Rocah
Dear Insider,
A leaked internal Immigration and Customs Enforcement (ICE) memo claims that ICE agents may enter people’s homes without a judicial warrant. That claim is wrong as a legal matter— and it threatens one of the most basic freedoms Americans have: the right to be safe in their own homes.
The memo—dated May 12, 2025 and signed by Acting Director Todd Lyons—was leaked by two whistleblowers and shared with Senator Richard Blumenthal. According to the whistleblowers, the memo was directed to all personnel but was distributed in a secretive manner to selected personnel. We spent many years as federal prosecutors enforcing federal law – about 50 years between the two of us. We know firsthand the power of law enforcement authority and how important it is that it be exercised within constitutional limits, especially within the sacrosanct safety of a person’s home.
Our homes have special protection under the Constitution. The Fourth Amendment to the Constitution protects people from unreasonable government searches and seizures and explicitly names “houses” as protected spaces: “The right of the people to be secure in their … houses … against unreasonable searches and seizures, shall not be violated, and no Warrants shall issue, but upon probable cause….”
The Supreme Court has repeatedly made this protection crystal clear.
In Payton v. New York (1980), the Court held that police may not enter a home to make an arrest without a judicial warrant, unless there is an emergency or the resident consents, calling physical entry of the home “the chief evil against which the wording of the Fourth Amendment is directed.”
In Kyllo v. United States (2001), the Court reaffirmed that the home is a place where privacy protection is at its highest. Even using technology to detect heat patterns inside a home — without ever physically entering — violated the Fourth Amendment if it was done without a warrant.
In Florida v. Jardines (2013), the Court held that bringing a drug-sniffing dog to the front porch of a home to investigate constituted an unlawful “search” under the Fourth Amendment, if done without a search warrant. If the Constitution forbids the government from using technology and animals to sense what happens inside a home, it certainly forbids crossing the threshold without judicial approval.
The whistleblower disclosure shows ICE claiming its agents may enter homes without judicial warrants because immigration enforcement is “civil.” But the Fourth Amendment does not contain a “civil enforcement” carveout. And the relevant Supreme Court’s cases do not turn on whether a matter is labeled “civil” or “criminal.” There is no “immigration exception” to the Constitution.
The ICE memo reportedly relies on Form I-205, a “warrant of removal/deportation” created within the executive branch and not signed by a judge. It authorizes officers to use “necessary and reasonable force” to enter certain residences to arrest people with final removal orders.
That is incompatible with the Fourth Amendment’s demand for judicial oversight. A judicial warrant is one that is issued by an individual who is ”neutral and detached” and can determine probable cause. An administrative warrant, by contrast, is issued by the government agency itself and so does not meet the Constitution and Court’s repeated requirement of being issued by someone “neutral” and “detached.” Federal agencies do not get to rewrite the Constitution through internal memos. Put simply, an administrative warrant is the government agency authorizing itself to enter a home — the constitutional equivalent of letting the fox write its own warrant to enter the henhouse.
This is not an immigration issue. It is a constitutional issue with consequences for all Americans. Yes, it will have huge implications for immigrants, who have long been advisednot to open their door to federal agents unless they have a warrant signed by a judge. But it will not end there. If ICE is permitted to enter homes without judicial warrants, the consequences will not stop with immigration enforcement. Other agencies will follow the same path — and they will do so using the same logic: that civil enforcement, public safety, or administrative necessity justifies bypassing judicial oversight.
One can easily imagine a parade of horribles:
Tax enforcement: IRS agents entering homes to seize records or property based solely on internal agency warrants, without a judge ever reviewing probable cause.
Health and safety enforcement:Public health officials entering private residences to conduct inspections or remove occupants during disease outbreaks without judicial authorization.
Child welfare investigations: Social services entering homes to investigate allegations based only on agency paperwork, without court approval.
Firearms regulation: Regulatory agents entering homes to inspect compliance with gun laws without judicial warrants.
Local law enforcement: Police departments reclassifying certain arrests as “civil” or “administrative” to avoid the warrant requirement altogether.
Once the government can enter a home based on its own approval, the Fourth Amendment’s warrant requirement becomes optional — a procedural inconvenience rather than a constitutional command.
And that erosion won’t stop at homes. If agency-issued warrants suffice for entry, then agency-issued authorizations will soon suffice for searches of phones, computers, bank accounts, and digital records — all areas the Supreme Court has increasingly treated as deserving heightened constitutional protection.
The Fourth Amendment was written precisely to prevent this outcome: a system in which government officials authorize their own intrusions. Judicial warrants are not a technicality — they are the firewall between liberty and unchecked power. And when that firewall falls, it does not fall selectively. It falls for everyone.
The home is the heart of American liberty. The Fourth Amendment draws a bright line at the front door — and for good reason. This leaked ICE memo crosses that line. It is legally wrong. It is constitutionally dangerous. And it should concern everyone who values privacy, liberty, and the rule of law — regardless of their views on immigration.
Stay Informed, Mimi & Perry
CAFE Contributor Mimi Rocah is the former District Attorney for Westchester County, and previously served as an Assistant U.S. Attorney and Division Chief for the Southern District of New York. She is currently an adjunct professor at Fordham School of Law.
Perry A. Carbone served as Chief of the White Plains Division at the U.S. Attorney’s Office for the Southern District of New York; he previously served as an Assistant U.S. Attorney in the District of New Jersey.
Former President Bill Clinton released the following statement about what’s happening in Minneapolis and other places, as Trump unleashes the armed, masked ICE agents to arrest, harass, and murder our fellow citizens in pursuit of undocumented immigrants .
Well said. Where are other retired Presidents, Vice-Presidents, Senators?
Please speak up, Former Presidents Bush and Obama.
The video is startling. Between 3-6 armed, masked ICE agents surround a man, wrestle him to the ground, throw punches at him while he seems to be completely immobilized.
Diane Ravitch's blog 