Wednesday, December 22, 2021

Who are the vaccine holdouts? America's real COVID divide might not be what you think

 Salon
December 22, 2021

Hannah Drake, spoken word artist and Black Lives Matter activist, receiving the 
Moderna COVID-19 vaccine in Louisville, Kentucky in January: a new study suggests Black Americans have not gotten the vaccine at a rate proportionate to their population
(AFP)

The dramatic rise of the omicron variant has renewed medical experts' warnings about the need for Americans to start taking the pandemic more seriously. Considering the generally low levels of vaccination in the U.S. relative to other wealthy countries, the CDC recommends that all Americans get vaccinated as the best means of protecting against severe illness from the variant, which has quickly overtaken delta as the dominant COVID strain in the U.S. Reporting from the first week and a half of December found that only 12 percent of new COVID-19 cases were from omicron; alarmingly, that had skyrocketed to 73 percent of new cases by the end of the third week of the month.

America is seriously divided on the vaccination question. And one doesn't have to go far to see headlines emphasizing the partisan nature of anti-vax sentiment. Stories placing partisanship at the center of the conflict are everywhere, with titles like: "Inside the Growing Alliance Between Anti-Vaccine Activists and Pro-Trump Republicans," "Republicans Seize on Federal Vaccine Mandates to Fire Up Their Base and Try to Court New Voters Worried About the Economy" and "The Biggest Divide on Vaccination Isn't Race or Income, But Party — and the Divide is Growing."

Despite the preoccupation with partisan conflict, available evidence suggests that the conflict over vaccination is not what we think it is. National polling in September found large divides on COVID vaccination on numerous demographic fronts, based on education, political party and age. Sixty percent of Republicans reported being vaccinated, compared to 86 percent of Democrats. Sixty-six percent of high school graduates said they were vaccinated, compared to 86 percent of those with graduate degrees. And 66 percent of 18-to-29-year-olds reported vaccination, compared to 86 percent of those 65 and older.

RELATED: "Don't, don't, don't": Trump lashes out after crowd boos him for getting COVID booster
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These are all large divides between groups — of 20 percentage points or more. But without a careful analysis of the raw data from national surveys, it's not possible to tell how much each factor accounts for the enduring national divide over vaccination. To provide a clearer answer, I undertook an original statistical "regression" analysis of mid-2021 surveys, one a Marist poll, another from Axios — both completed in June — which asked Americans about their vaccination status, while collecting information on other demographic and personal behavioral factors.

For the Axios poll, Americans' political behavior was gauged in relation to their reliance on various media venues, including social media like Facebook and Twitter, the elite agenda-setting press (The New York Times), cable viewership (CNN, MSNBC and Fox News), and broadcast television (ABC, CBS, NBC News), in addition to various demographics, including political party identification, gender, race, education level and income. For the Marist poll, additional demographic factors included religious affiliation (for evangelical Christians) and region of the country.

By statistically "controlling" (in social science terms) for all these factors simultaneously within a regression analysis, I am able to measure the percent likelihood that each variable is associated with being vaccinated or unvaccinated, other factors considered. For example, I can estimate the percent likelihood that age predicts being unvaccinated, moving from the oldest group of Americans — those 60 and older — to younger adults in the 18-29 age group. Or the likelihood that one is not vaccinated based on party identification, Democrat or Republican. Or the likelihood that rising education — from those with a high school degree or less to those with graduate degrees — accounts for vaccine refusal.

The results of this research may surprise those who have been told that the battle over vaccinations is primarily a question of partisanship or, alternatively, is about where someone gets their news. The Biden administration has targeted a "disinformation dozen" of vaccine skeptics operating on social media, and CNN has emphasized that Fox News viewers are more likely to oppose vaccination. In fact, neither those who rely on social media nor those who watch Fox News as their "main source of news" are more likely to be unvaccinated, after controlling for other factors included in my analysis. On the other hand, consumption of various "liberal" media outlets, including CNN and The New York Times, is also unrelated to vaccination status.

In terms of news consumption, only MSNBC and broadcast television act as positive predictors that someone is vaccinated. And even in these two cases, the correlation is not particularly strong: Watching MSNBC and broadcast news is associated, respectively, with a 14 percent and 15 percent increased likelihood of vaccination, after controlling for other factors.

For a fuller accounting of various demographic factors, we need to look to the June Marist poll. Importantly, despite claims that Black Americans are more likely to be vaccine holdouts, this group is not significantly more likely to be unvaccinated, after statistically accounting for other factors. This finding is reinforced by recent polling, such as the Pew Research Center's September poll that found minimal differences between the 70 percent of Black people, 72 percent of white people and 76 percent of Latinx people who report being vaccinated.

Similarly, income, gender and the region of the country where one lives are all not significant in predicting vaccination status. Despite high-profile reporting drawing attention to lower vaccination rates in the South, living below the Mason-Dixon line is simply not relevant in accounting for vaccine resistance. Southern states are disproportionately Republican in their politics, and partisanship appears to be the primary factor at work here. Reflecting this point, my analysis of the Marist poll finds that Republican party affiliation is associated with a 26 percent increased chance of being unvaccinated, controlling for other factors.

Despite academic and journalistic emphasis on vaccine resistance among white evangelicals, this group is only moderately more likely to be represented among vaccine holdouts. Being a white evangelical is associated with only a 10 percent increased probability of being unvaccinated in the Marist poll, compared to other Americans and after controlling for other demographic factors. Similarly, education is only moderately significant as a predictor of vaccination: The least educated Americans (those with a high school degree or less) are about 16 percent less likely to be vaccinated, compared to the most educated Americans (those with graduate degrees).

RELATED: False prophets: When preachers defy COVID — and then it kills them

But there is one factor that accounts, by far, for the largest variation in vaccination rates: age. Recent polling finds large differences between groups based on vaccination status and age, but the results are not what many people might expect. On the one hand, younger Americans are significantly less likely to be vaccinated than older Americans, with movement from the youngest Americans (18 to 29 years old) to the oldest (60+) associated with an astonishing 57 percent increased likelihood of being vaccinated. But this distinction is not because those in the youngest age cohort are disproportionately refusing vaccination, presumably because they feel they are healthy and are not concerned about contracting COVID-19.

My analysis clearly shows that adults under 30 are not significantly more likely, statistically speaking, to be unvaccinated compared to the rest of the public. The difference occurs at the other end, where it is older Americans — those 60 and older — who are far more likely to have sought out vaccination, compared to all other age groups. Taking a closer look at Pew's September polling, an overwhelming 86 percent of Americans 65 and older reported being vaccinated in mid-2021, only a few months after vaccines first became widely available, compared to 73 percent of those 50 to 64, 69 percent of those 30 to 49, and 66 percent of those 18 to 29.

To put this another way, the major story here is not that younger Americans are disproportionately holding out on vaccination, but rather that all age groups except people 60 and older have failed to get vaccinated at the high rates that were necessary (at least before omicron took hold) to achieve "herd immunity" against COVID-19.

It may be comforting or politically convenient to blame the failure to achieve mass vaccination on ideological factors such as partisanship, Fox News socialization or religion (specifically referring to white evangelicals). There's no doubt that Fox News has a history of flirting with anti-vaccine propaganda, while Republican state and local officials have militantly opposed vaccine and mask mandates and evangelical Christians have a long history of viewing evidence-based reasoning with suspicion, in favor of a faith-based worldview often associated with the rejection of science.

RELATED: With omicron variant arriving, Republicans are now bribing people to avoid vaccination

But none of those factors, it turns out, is the primary reason for vaccine opposition. White evangelicals represent 14.5 percent of the U.S. population in 2021, and with 40 percent of them being unvaccinated in late 2021, that amounts to just 5.8 percent of the adult population. Republicans were 26 percent of the adult population as of October 2021, and with 44 percent reportedly not vaccinated, this amounts to 11.4 percent of American adults. By contrast, the number of unvaccinated Americans younger than age 65 is much larger than either of these groups. Census data reveals that Americans under 65 were 79 percent of the adult population as of 2020, and based on Pew's data, the unvaccinated people within that group represented almost a quarter (24 percent) of adults.

It's clear that partisanship and religious faith fuel suspicion of vaccines, and both factors clearly play a role in vaccine refusal. But our nation's vaccination problem runs much deeper than that. The reality is that the U.S. has a widespread anti-vax problem, and lags well behind most wealthy countries in the percentage of adults who are fully vaccinated. If roughly one in four adult Americans under age 60 is unvaccinated, that comes to more than 60 million people, without even counting children younger than 18 who remain unvaccinated for various reasons.

RELATED: How deadly is the omicron variant? Here's what we know

Mass opposition to vaccination is rooted in larger cultural values, such as a tendency to embrace narcissistic ignorance and to discount the advice of medical experts. Tens of millions refuse to come to terms with the gravity of the threat, despite the U.S. closing in on a million people dead of COVID and the prospect that half of those who contract the virus may face "long COVID" symptoms that persist for six months or more — an especially alarming statistic, considering our lack of understanding of what the long-term consequences will be years from now.

The significance of age as the best predictor of vaccine refusal suggests that much of the population, disproportionately concentrated among those younger than 65, have discounted the dangers of COVID-19, viewing it as something that only threatens the elderly. This belief is grossly ignorant, considering that one-quarter of the 800,000 U.S. COVID deaths as of December, or 200,000 people, were people younger than 65. Despite the evident dangers faced by Americans of all ages, anti-vax sentiment persists in the face of the most devastating pandemic in a century — and the prospect that new variants will continue to reduce the efficacy of vaccines and guarantee prolonged viral spread well into the future.
Senior Palestinian lawmaker condemned for 'accepting Israel's racist Jewish nation-state law'

The United Arab List's Mansour Abbas reportedly said Israel was 'born as a Jewish state, and it will remain one', angering many Palestinians

The New Arab Staff
22 December, 2021

Mansour Abbas heads up the Palestinian United Arab List in Israel's Knesset [AFP/Getty]

A senior Palestinian lawmaker in the Israeli Knesset has been condemned for reportedly accepting Israel as being a Jewish state.

Mansour Abbas is head of the United Arab List, a Palestinian-Islamist political party in Israel that is a member of the governing coalition.

"The State of Israel was born as a Jewish state, and it will remain one," he reportedly said during a summit for the Israeli business news outlet Globes.

The reported comment was met with anger by many Palestinians, who pointed out the 700,000 Palestinians who were ethnically cleansed from their homes with Israel's 1948 formation.

"These irresponsible statements are consistent with the calls of extremists in Israel to displace the Palestinians and harm the status of the blessed Al-Aqsa Mosque and history of the Palestinian people," Palestinian President Mahmoud Abbas said in a message issued by his team on Tuesday.

Analysis--Jessica Buxbaum

The release also said Mansour stands for no one but himself with his alleged remark, according to The Jerusalem Post.

Gaza rulers Hamas said Mansour's apparent comment was "a clear endorsement" of Israel's Jewish nation-state law, passed by the country's parliament under right-wing premier Benjamin Netanyahu.

The 2018 legislation affords the "right to exercise national self-determination" within Israel only to Jews and was widely considered a racist measure.

Ayman Odeh, head of the largely Palestinian Joint List in Israel's parliament, a rival grouping to which the United Arab List once belonged, also hit out at Mansour.

"If you divide the national unity of your people and recognise the most important stance of the Zionist movement, then who are you?!" Odeh wrote on Facebook.

"One of the conditions for the [exclusively] Jewish state's continuation is that ruling establishment succeeds in seeing us fail to act as a national group with national rights.

"That's why Netanyahu and Mansour have worked to tear apart the unity of our people."

Members of the Executive Committee of the Palestine Liberation Organisation, the most senior authority within that organisation, said Mansour backed "racist" Israeli legislation.
UK Conservative MP says party pushing for law to ban BDS 'within a year or two'

'Within a year or two, we should have an absolute ban on BDS,' Conservative MP Robert Jenrick 

The New Arab Staff
17 December, 2021

MP Robert Jenrick said his party will ban BDS in the coming months [Getty]

A Conservative MP and former housing minister said Tuesday that his party is pushing for legislation to outlaw the Boycott, Divestment and Sanctions (BDS) movement in the UK.

During an online conference event entitled “Why Do So Many People Hate Jews”, MP Robert Jenrick said: “In the following months we will be working to outlaw BDS”.

“I do think BDS is being beaten back here. There is no political party in the UK that would support BDS today”, he said.

“What we want to do is pass a piece of legislation here and I’m pretty confident it will be in the next legislative programme in the Spring of next year.”

MP Robert Jenrick's remarks this week about UK gov't plans to legislate against BDS made a few headlines - but this is the full clip. It's...bad.

"Within a year or two, we should...have an absolute ban on BDS here, which would be a great step forwards".https://t.co/99Q4uhBTyl pic.twitter.com/1y1Nezxhn0 — Ben White (@benabyad) December 16, 2021

“Obviously I want it to be as broad as possible so there’s next to no avenue for BDS to continue here. Within a year or two, we should have an absolute ban on BDS.”

..This measure must and will be resisted by all who care about the upholding of international law, democratic freedoms including the right to invest ethically and the fundamental principle of standing always with the oppressed and not the oppressor — Ben Jamal (@BenJamalpsc) December 17, 2021

Palestinian campaigners and rights groups have slammed Jenrick’s remarks as an anti-democratic suppression of free speech.

Meanwhile, Israel advocacy group Zionist Federation welcomed the move to ban the anti-apartheid campaign, which they claim is anti-Semitic.

A movement which increasingly demonises #Jews and which marginalises #Jewish students on campuses should have no place in mainstream society.

We look forward to the day when legislation will outlaw the @BDSmovement https://t.co/2glUmzNvb4 — Zionist Federation (@ZionistFed) December 15, 2021

The UK Conservative Party, led by Prime Minister Boris Johnson, pledged to ban local councils from boycotting products from countries including Israel in the run-up to the December 2019 general elections.

Free speech, Israel-Palestine and the battle to define anti-Semitism
Analysis
Ziad Al-Qattan

Labour leader Keir Starmer has said his party will not support BDS, calling the movement divisive and damaging to UK-Israel relations. However, party members passed a motion at the annual Brighton conference in September that labelled Israel an apartheid state and called for sanctions against the country.
UN reduces food rations for war-torn Yemen due to lack of donor funding

The World Food Programme said it will reduce food rations for millions of people in Yemen from January due to a lack of funding from donors.

The New Arab Staff & Agencies
22 December, 2021

The WFP feeds 13 million people a month in Yemen [source: Getty]

The World Food Programme (WFP) said on Wednesday it will reduce food rations for 8 million people in Yemen from January due to a lack of funding from donors, warning the cuts will push more people into starvation.

Families on reduced handouts will receive barely half of the WFP's daily minimum ration. Other food assistance and child malnutrition programmes are at risk of further cuts if more funding does not come through, the WFP said in a statement.

UN agencies, including the WFP, earlier warned of programme cuts, after only $2.68 billion of $3.85 billion requested from donors for this year had been received as of the end of October.

"WFP food stocks in Yemen are running dangerously low," the WFP's regional director, Corinne Fleischer, said in a statement.

"Every time we reduce the amount of food, we know that more people who are already hungry and food insecure will join the ranks of the millions who are starving. But desperate times call for desperate measures."

Yemen war will have killed over 300,000 by year's end: UN

Five million people at immediate risk of slipping into famine will keep the full ration, the WFP said. The agency feeds 13 million people a month in Yemen.

Yemen, divided between the Iran-aligned Houthi group in the north and the internationally recognised government in the south, has been plunged into hunger by seven years of war, inflation and impediments to imports.

The war has killed tens of thousands of people, mostly civilians, and left millions on the brink of famine.

The average cost of a minimum food basket this year rose 140 percent in southern Yemen, and 38 percent in Houthi areas, the WFP said.

In June the WFP resumed monthly food aid in some Houthi-run parts of Yemen after limiting deliveries to every other month from April 2020 because of donor funding cuts, partly over concerns about obstruction to aid delivery.

The World Bank on Tuesday said it had approved $170 million in grants for Yemen for urban infrastructure, climate resilience and rural food insecurity projects.

‘Amazon won’t let us leave’: Tornado creates modern Triangle Shirtwaist Factory

December 15, 2021 
PEOPLES WORLD
 BY C.J. ATKINS

A heavily damaged Amazon fulfillment center is seen Saturday, Dec. 11, 2021, in Edwardsville, Ill. A large section of the roof of the building was ripped off and walls collapsed when a tornado moved through the area Friday night. Six workers were killed. Reportedly, Amazon would not let them leave their workplace as the storm approached. | Jeff Roberson / AP



“Amazon won’t let us leave.” That was the last message 46-year-old Larry Virden sent his girlfriend on the evening of Dec. 10. A short time later, a tornado blasted through Edwardsville, Illinois, and shredded the Amazon fulfillment center warehouse where Virden worked. When the roof of the massive facility came crashing down, he and five co-workers were left dead. Cherie Jones, his partner of 13 years, is now in mourning and explaining to their four children why dad is never coming home.

According to Jones, Virden could have gotten back in time to shelter with his family—if only his employer hadn’t ordered workers to stay at the facility. Amazon claims supervisors moved to get as many workers as possible to designated safe spots in the warehouse, but Virden’s final text is a rallying cry against the willful anti-worker negligence of the retail behemoth.

‘Amazon won’t let us leave’: A screenshot shared with the media by Larry Virden’s girlfriend, Cherie Jones, shows the last text message he sent before a tornado killed him and five co-workers at an Amazon fulfillment center in Edwardsville, Ill., on Dec. 10.

Amazon wasn’t the only corporation implicated in tornado-linked worker deaths that night, though. Eight more were killed at the Mayfield Consumer Products Company’s candle factory in Mayfield, Ky. There, too, workers wanted to flee an approaching twister, but bosses reportedly told them they’d be fired if they left the plant. The damage in Mayfield was even more devastating than that in Edwardsville; all that’s left of the candle factory is a pile of rubble.

The two sites—which are essentially crime scenes—invite comparisons to the Triangle Shirtwaist Factory fire of 1911. There, 146 garment workers—123 women and girls and 23 men, many of them Italian and Jewish immigrants—were killed when flames engulfed a high-rise clothing plant in New York City’s Greenwich Village. Many were burned alive, others suffocated from the smoke, while dozens more desperately jumped or fell from windows.

The Triangle company had chained the doors of the factory closed, a common practice among bosses at the time in order to keep workers from taking breaks or leaving before managers said they could.

Immediately after the tragedy, socialist leader Rose Schneiderman told the members of the Women’s Trade Union League: “I would be a traitor to those poor burned bodies if I came here to talk good fellowship…. Too much blood has been spilled…. It is up to the working people to save themselves. The only way they can do that is with a strong working-class movement.”

A wave of worker organizing and agitation for workplace safety was sparked by the blaze. Survivors of the fire became major advocates for unions as the only way workers might collectively protect themselves from corporate greed. Fire eyewitness Frances Perkins took up the investigation for the state and was instrumental in putting safety front and center; later she would be the United States’ first woman Secretary of Labor under FDR and said the Triangle fire was “the day the New Deal was born.”

From the ashes arose the country’s first laws mandating fire safety and improved building codes, regulations for working conditions, improved sanitary facilities, limiting of working hours for women and children, and official encouragement for collective bargaining. Everything from minimum wage laws to workers’ compensation to the creation of OSHA can be traced back to the long reform drive that followed the disaster. Triangle became a turning point in the struggle to save workers from being literally killed for the sake of profits.

The interior of the Triangle Shirtwaist Factory following the deadly fire of 1911. An estimated 146 workers, mostly women and girls, were killed when they couldn’t escape the flames because bosses had chained the doors of the factory shut. | Public Domain / via U.S. Department of Labor

It was chains on doors that condemned people to death in the Triangle fire 110 years ago; orders from supervisors and threats of termination achieved the same outcome in Edwardsville and Mayfield this week. Now, just like then, corporations treat workers like they are disposable.

Amazon’s disaster in Illinois is not unique; it is the latest episode in a long-running tragedy. One worker who spoke to People’s World, recounting how Amazon kept its New York warehouses operating even during deadly flooding recently, said, “They legitimately don’t care if we die. Their profits don’t suffer.” People’s lives are being put on the line needlessly, but corporations and the billionaires who own and run them refuse to take responsibility.

The Amazon workers who are involved with the Amazon Labor Union are taking up the challenge of stopping things like this from happening again. For the employees in its fulfillment centers, Amazon dictates every aspect of their work life—pay, benefits, working conditions, safety measures, access to telephones. The workers have no power to negotiate any of these things, even though it’s their labor power which rakes in the billions for Jeff Bezos and the company’s other owners.

Amazon, the union says, consistently values its profits over the people who work there. The deaths of workers like Larry Virden in Edwardsville, who were ordered to stay at work even as a deadly storm approached, are proof of that.

Workers in Amazon—and at companies like Mayfield—need unions because a union is the only way that workers can collectively leverage their power to force change. Amazon and other corporations know this, which is why they spend so much effort trying to convince employees not to join up with the union and fire workers who try to organize. And bought-and-paid-for politicians in right-to-work states like Kentucky know it too, which is why they keep anti-union laws on the books. 
Some of the workers and supporters of the Amazon Labor Union at Amazon’s Staten Island fulfillment center in late October. | People’s World

Soon, there will be a re-vote for union certification at the Amazon warehouse in Bessemer, Ala. Hopefully, workers’ voices will really be heard this time, despite the company’s intimidation and misinformation campaigns against the Retail, Wholesale, and Department Store Union (RWDSU). A victory in Alabama could be the first chink in the armor of the corporate giant and spur on a Triangle-style organizing and reform wave. The workers in Bessemer and at Amazon facilities everywhere—from Staten Island, N.Y. to Bad Hersfeld, Germany—need our support and solidarity

As for how to characterize the actions of Amazon and Mayfield this week, we can give the final analysis to Frederick Engels, a pioneering advocate for liberating workers from greed and exploitation. Looking at how capitalists in Victorian England were using up workers’ lives in pursuit of profit, Engels wrote in 1845:

“When one individual inflicts bodily injury upon another such that death results, we call the deed manslaughter; when the assailant knew in advance that the injury would be fatal, we call his deed murder. But when society places hundreds of workers in such a position that they inevitably meet a too early and an unnatural death…its deed is murder just as surely as the deed of the single individual. Disguised, malicious murder, murder against which none can defend himself, which does not seem what it is, because no man sees the murderer, because the death of the victim seems a natural one, since the offense is more one of omission than of commission. But murder it remains.”

Too much blood has been spilled. It is once again up to the working people to save themselves. Organize.


CONTRIBUTOR
C.J. Atkins is the managing editor at People's World. He holds a Ph.D. in political science from York University in Toronto and has a research and teaching background in political economy and the politics and ideas of the American left. In addition to his work at People's World, C.J. currently serves as the Deputy Executive Director of ProudPolitics.
Union declares victory as Kellogg's strike ends with pay raise, moratorium on plant closures

Jake Johnson, Common Dreams
December 22, 2021

Kellogg's plant workers remain on strike after rejecting the company's latest contract offer (AFP)

Kellogg's workers' months-long strike officially came to an end Tuesday after union members voted to approve a new five-year collective bargaining agreement that includes an immediate wage increase of $1.10 per hour, a moratorium on plant closures, and a pension boost.

Anthony Shelton, international president of the Bakery, Confectionery, Tobacco Workers and Grain Millers International Union (BCTGM), called the new contract a "great workers' victory" and said that "solidarity was critical" to the achievement. Employees are expected to return to work on December 27.

"We're definitely stronger going back into that building than we were coming out."

"Our striking members at Kellogg's ready-to-eat cereal production facilities courageously stood their ground and sacrificed so much in order to achieve a fair contract," Shelton said in a statement Tuesday. "This agreement makes gains and does not include any concessions."


"Our entire union commends and thanks Kellogg's members," he continued. "From picket line to picket line, Kellogg's union members stood strong and undeterred in this fight, inspiring generations of workers across the globe, who were energized by their tremendous show of bravery as they stood up to fight and never once backed down."

Roughly 1,400 Kellogg's workers in four states—Michigan, Nebraska, Pennsylvania, and Tennessee—had been on strike since October 5, when cereal plant employees walked off the job in an effort to improve pay, benefits, and poor working conditions, a longstanding issue that deteriorated further amid the coronavirus pandemic.

Kellogg's workers have accused management of intentionally under-staffing the corporation's facilities—and forcing the remaining employees to endure brutally long shifts—to save money on pay and benefits, all while handing CEO Steve Cahillane nearly $12 million a year in compensation.

"The worst is when you work a 7-to-7 and they tell you to come back at 3 am on a short turnaround," Omaha BCTGM president Daniel Osborn, a Kellogg's mechanic, told Rolling Stone last month. "You work 20, 30 days in a row and you don't know where work and your life ends and begins."

"You sign on at a place like Kellogg’s, and you know they basically own your life," Osborn added. "You decide it is OK because you do it to support your family and give them a good life. But it has to be a relationship where you're valued, and the company doesn't look to squeeze out every last drop of profit at your expense."

Osborn told HuffPost on Tuesday that with the new collective bargaining agreement, "we were able to retain everything we had before that they were trying to take away, and we got some gains in there, too."

"We're definitely stronger going back into that building than we were coming out," he said.

A major dispute between workers and management has been the existence of a two-tiered compensation system that divides employees into "legacy" and "transitional" categories, with the latter receiving lesser pay and benefits.

Under the new contract, according to BCTGM, the two-tiered system would remain in place but it wouldn't be "permanent." The Washington Post reported that management "agreed to create an 'accelerated' path from one tier to the next," but some workers voiced concern that the new contract could further entrench the status quo.

"The agreement accomplishes something incredibly important: it breaks a cycle of concessionary bargaining."

"It's a trojan horse that's been given to us," one Kellogg's worker said at a rally in Battle Creek, Michigan last week, days before the vote on the contract was held.

C.M. Lewis, an editor of Strikewave and a union activist in Pennsylvania, argued in a series of tweets Tuesday that—all things considered—Kellogg's workers "got a better deal than if they hadn't struck."

"The agreement accomplishes something incredibly important: it breaks a cycle of concessionary bargaining that seemed irreversible even a few years ago. That's a big deal, and shouldn't be undersold," Lewis wrote. "Strikes work, but they don't work miracles. We need to be honest."

"Two-tier is still part of the contract. The road out of it is extremely limited," he added. "This isn't a defeat. It's not a slam-dunk victory. It's a victory that makes bigger victories possible. And we need to be okay with that ambiguity."

BCTGM, which did not release the vote totals for ratification, said the new contract includes a moratorium on plant closures through October 2026, "a clear path to regular full-time employment," "a significant increase in the pension multiplier," and "maintenance of cost-of-living raises."

"The BCTGM is grateful to AFL-CIO President Liz Shuler for mobilizing the AFL-CIO and its affiliates in support of our striking Kellogg’s members. Once again, President Shuler has provided highly effective leadership in support of the BCTGM and our members," Shelton said Tuesday. "The BCTGM is grateful, as well, for the outpouring of fraternal support we received from across the labor movement for our striking members at Kellogg's."

Part of a wave of recent labor actions across the U.S., the Kellogg's strike drew national attention as Sen. Bernie Sanders (I-Vt.), President Joe Biden, and other prominent figures spoke out in defense of the workers.

"Last year, Kellogg's made over $1.4 billion in profits. It paid its CEO, Steven Cahillane, nearly $12 million in total compensation, a significant increase over recent years," Sanders wrote in an op-ed last week. "One of the reasons that Kellogg's had such a profitable year during this pandemic was the extraordinary sacrifices made by their employees who, in significantly understaffed factories, were asked to work an insane number of hours."

After Kellogg's announced earlier this month that it would move to permanently replace striking workers, Biden said in a statement that "such action undermines the critical role collective bargaining plays in providing workers a voice and the opportunity to improve their lives while contributing fully to their employer's success."

Trevor Bidelman, a Kellogg's worker and president of the BCTGM local in Battle Creek, told HuffPost that management's threat to permanently replace the unionized workers who walked off the job likely influenced the vote in favor of the new contract.

"The replacement threat was really the biggest piece," he said.
A Climate Change Solution Direct from the Congo

December 21, 2021
By Newsroom


A revealing account authored by former US Diplomat and World Bank Group (IFC) official Oliver Griffith provides a compelling perspective on a scalable solution for climate change. Investigating the impact of UN backed projects that work to Reduce Emissions from Deforestation and Degradation (REDD+), Griffith makes his case for listening to the people on the front line of the climate crisis.

The account researched by Griffith saw him visit nine of the most remote villages within the Mai Ndombe REDD+ Project in the Democratic Republic of the Congo (DRC). Speaking directly with community members, community leaders, civil society, and regional and national government officials Griffith witnesses first-hand a science-based climate change solution that is working today.

Author, Oliver Griffith said “There’s little debate that tropical forests must be protected. Deforestation and forest degradation are some of the leading causes of global warming, responsible for about 15% of greenhouse gas emissions. At COP 26, over 140 world leaders promised to end deforestation by 2030, pledging over $19 billion to do so. However, it is not clear how the funds will be used or how countries will achieve the goal. Fortunately, REDD+ is a proven model that can make this happen.”

The REDD+ model described in the account works as a replicable and scalable product that can raise substantial funding from corporations which buy Verified Emission Reductions (VERs) also known as carbon credits. It depends on detailed, science-based carbon accounting under the internationally recognized Verified Carbon Standard, and the buy-in via Free Prior and Informed Consent (FPIC) of local communities.

Remarking on the importance of this account was Dr. Jean-Robert Bwangoy Bankanza Bolambee, Wildlife Works DRC Country Director who said: “The DRC is the largest country in sub-Saharan Africa and has exceptional natural resources. Nonetheless, it regularly finishes near the bottom in the UN’s global human development index, and two thirds of Congolese live in poverty. There is a tremendous pressure to exploit natural resources, by the poor depending on them to survive, by the government looking for tax revenues, and by international firms feeding their supply chains.”

Griffith’s thesis relies on the notion that the resources depended on by those in the Forest are found in the forests, and therefore the solutions must also be found there. They must be practical, scalable, and easy to implement, and they will only be successful if they can protect the forests while meeting the economic needs of those who might cut them down.

Mike Korchinsky, founder of the project in the Congo visited by Griffith said, “This important account highlights that it isn’t practical to wait for the world to become enlightened enough to leave the forests alone. REDD+ puts a practical value on standing forests to give communities an economic alternative to deforestation.”

USSA

Empire of Lies

Thirty years after the fall of the Soviet Union, the country's assault on truth remains all too relevant.

Soviet policemen look at the portrait of Vladimir Lenin on the facade of the KGB building in Moscow on November 7, 1990, one year before the USSR's dissolution in 1991. (Photo: Alexander Nemenov/AFP via Getty Images)

By Roland Merullo

The first time I headed home from working in the USSR, in early October of 1977, a colleague and I left the country on a train that traveled overnight from Leningrad to Helsinki. Just shy of the Finnish border, somewhere after midnight, the brakes squealed and the train jolted to a halt. My friend and I waited there in our two-person coupe, anxious to cross over into freedom. After half an hour or so, there was a quick knock, the coupe door was thrown open, and in strode a pair of no-nonsense Border Guard officers in their green uniforms and maroon epaulets. 

Against my skin, inside the front of my long-sleeved shirt, were hidden several pen-and-ink drawings on heavy paper. The drawings had been made by a Soviet friend, a veteran of the Gulag, a damaged man, and they depicted Vladimir Lenin in various insulting poses. The friend had begged me to carry them out of the country and, perhaps foolishly, I’d agreed, not having any idea what I’d ultimately do with them. 

I sat on the edge of the bunk while the officers ran their eyes over every corner of the coupe and fired questions at me in Russian. Where were we going? What had we been doing in the USSR? Were we carrying any contraband—icons, gold, caviar, samizdat? Throughout this unpleasant farewell, I could feel the drawings against my chest. My hands were sweating. I could hear the sounds of voices and dogs barking just outside the coupe windows, and could see flashlight beams angling there in the darkness. When they were finished, the officers grunted suspiciously and slammed the door behind them, but the activity outside went on for what seemed like another hour. Eventually, things quieted down, the train jerked into motion again, and it wasn’t long until we crossed the border into a very different land.

The border guards would no doubt have detained and questioned me if they’d discovered the drawings. The soldiers outside and their trained German Shepherds had been searching beneath the rail cars, looking for citizens so desperate to leave their troubled homeland that they’d cling there, risking arrest, injury, or death. The intensity of the indoor questioning and the care taken in the outdoor search gave the lie to what so many Soviets had told us over the months we’d worked there: that they were free to express themselves in any way that pleased them and were able to travel anywhere they wanted. Finland, France, Africa, America—it didn’t matter; they were as free as we were to wander the globe and speak our minds.

When I think of the breakup of the Soviet Union—a place where I lived and worked for 28 months between 1977 and 1990—I think of that nervous moment on the train, and I remember, all too clearly, the assault on truth we’d encountered in the country we were about to leave. 

That train trip marked the end of my first tour in the USSR, working on United States Information Agency traveling cultural-exchange exhibitions that were visited by as many as 15,000 people per day. The 28 months I’d eventually spend in the Soviet Union were broken up into three long tours: seven months in 1977 as exhibit guide; fourteen months in 1987-88 as General Services Officer; and seven months in 1989-90 as Field Director. 

Inside the United States Information Agency Exhibit, "Design USA." (Photo: ©1990 Amanda S. Merullo)

In those three very different positions, I interacted with a broad spectrum of the Soviet population: exhibit visitors young and old, ordinary laborers, police, customs officials, and high-ranking Party officials. By the end of my service there, I spoke Russian fluently and had been soaked from head to toe in the life, culture, and politics of the place. I’d also watched it evolve from the harsh days of Brezhnev-style communism to the vastly more open-minded rule of Gorbachev. Through it all, I observed and listened to the way the truth was buried, twisted, manipulated, and eventually, however briefly, allowed to see the light of day.

As they left our exhibit, Soviet visitors were given the opportunity to write in a “comment book.” In 1977, many of the comments reflected Communist Party propaganda. Here are some typical examples: Why do your guides lie about your country and ours? Isn’t it true that, if your employees live in private homes, they must be the sons and daughters of wealthy capitalists? We know that the exhibits shown here do not honestly reflect the horrible conditions under which most Americans live. During my first tour, I briefly had a Siberian girlfriend. In our last conversation, not long before I left for home, she told me, “I feel so sorry for you, having to return to America. It must be like going back to prison.”

By the late eighties, all that had changed. The truth had been let out of the tight red bag in which the apparatchiki had kept it, and, among the few remaining hardline comments in the exhibit book, we’d find many like these, that stick in my memory: You live on the moon. We live in shit. And, It will take us 500 years to catch up to life in the West. And, Why have we been lied to all this time?

Passersby walk through Moscow’s Red Square, with the Kremlin and Saint Basil's Cathedral in the background. (Photo: ©1990 Amanda S. Merullo)

What happened next reminds me of a line spoken by Mike, one of Hemingway’s characters in The Sun Also Rises. When asked how he went bankrupt, Mike replies, “Two ways. Gradually and then suddenly.” Well into the 1980s, though the Soviet economy was pitifully weak, not even the most prescient scholars could have predicted the abrupt unraveling of the USSR’s seven-decade system of sophisticated propaganda backed by torture, murder, and strict prohibitions against foreign travel and exposure to Western media. And yet, that sudden unraveling is exactly what occurred. 

I was working in Leningrad (now St. Petersburg) when the Berlin Wall fell in 1989. It seemed the perfect metaphor for the ensuing collapse of the structure of lies on which the Soviet Union had been constructed: that Party leaders were building a just society and not lining their own pockets; that life in the USSR was far better than life in the Russia that preceded it and much preferable to life in the West; that Soviet goods were a match for, or even superior to, those produced in the United States; that there was no Gulag, no censorship, no crime, no corrupt courts or police, no travel restrictions; that all the evil in the world could be traced to the capitalist impulse.

This Sunday marks thirty years since the collapse of the onion-domed palace of mendacity once called the Union of Soviet Socialist Republics—a collapse which filled so many of us with hope until Vladimir Putin arrived on the scene.  That nation’s relatively brief lifespan has led me to believe that the truth exerts a kind of invisible pressure on human constructs, continuously leaning against us as individuals and societies, pushing us in the direction of honesty and harmony.

Of course, those whom the popular psychiatrist M. Scott Peck labeled “people of the lie” are continuously pushing back, often employing propaganda and violence in an effort to design and maintain a false narrative, and bend others to their will. The degree to which violence is always necessary for the perpetuation of their lies makes me envision the truth as something tidal. It recedes but never disappears, and its inevitable return can be prevented only with great effort and artificial constraints.

A statue of Vladimir Lenin in Donetsk, Ukraine. At the time, Soviet Ukraine was a constituent republic of the USSR. (Photo: ©1990 Amanda S. Merullo)

Dictatorships cause an immeasurable amount of suffering on this earth, but, in many cases, they don’t last. Whether it’s the junta in Argentina or the iron fist of Nicolae CeauÈ™escu in Romania, Idi Amin’s reign of terror in Uganda or the closed nation built by Lenin and Stalin and supported by their heirs, the tidal pressure of the truth eventually erodes the dictator’s power and breaks apart the system. Sometimes, as is the case in Iran, Burma, and Cambodia, and now in Russia, that breakage leads only to new lies, a new boss, more misery. At other times, as in Uruguay and what was once called East Germany, the collapse lets in a flood of light and the society blossoms and thrives.

It also happens—and perhaps this is happening in our country now—that a healthy society’s truthful foundation can undergo a slow erosion. In such cases, ordinary citizens begin to question even the idea of truth, whether it’s the evolving and complicated truth of science, fairly-counted votes in a national election, or the facts presented by multiple respected media outlets. 

The human experience is painfully complex and, as a result, many of us long for simple answers. Autocrats on both right and left are more than happy to provide those simple answers if it serves their own purposes. First, they muddy the waters with conspiracy theories and disinformation, and then they construct their own narrative, based on a foundation of lies but presented with great conviction, and backed up by mockery, censorship, duplicity, and violence. 

I watched as the truth, kept from the Soviet motherland for seventy years, flooded into view like a hopeful tide, and was then shoved away again, by Putin and his minions, with murder and treachery. It waits there, though, always pushing toward the light. I feel for those truth-tellers—like the heroic Alexei Navalny—who suffer terribly in the meantime, and I worry about my own country, flawed as it is but still beautifully free, as the tide of truth ebbs slowly away from our shores. Steeped as I have been in the sordid history of the Union of Soviet Socialist Republics, I sometimes lie awake at night, remembering the suffering and deprivation I witnessed there, replaying the lies, and wondering, as the truth is assaulted here in America day after day, what will become of us. 

Roland Merullo is the author of 16 novels and writes an essay series called On the Plus Side. More of his work is available at RolandMerullo.com.

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The Kremlin’s Strange Victory

How Putin Exploits American Dysfunction and Fuels American Decline

Benedetto Cristofani

LONG READ


Donald Trump wanted his July 2018 meeting in Helsinki with his Russian counterpart, Vladimir Putin, to evoke memories of the momentous encounters that took place in the 1980s between U.S. President Ronald Reagan and Soviet leader Mikhail Gorbachev. Those arms control summits had yielded the kind of iconic imagery that Trump loved: strong, serious men meeting in distant places to hash out the great issues of the day. What better way, in Trump’s view, to showcase his prowess at the art of the deal?

That was the kind of show Trump wanted to put on in Helsinki. What emerged instead was an altogether different sort of spectacle.

By the time of the meeting, I had spent just over a year serving in the Trump administration as deputy assistant to the president and senior director for European and Russian affairs on the National Security Council. Like everyone else who worked in the White House, I had, by then, learned a great deal about Trump’s idiosyncrasies. We all knew, for instance, that Trump rarely read the detailed briefing materials his staff prepared for him and that in meetings or calls with other leaders, he could never stick to an agreed-on script or his cabinet members’ recommendations. This had proved to be a major liability during those conversations, since it often seemed to his foreign counterparts as though Trump was hearing about the issues on the agenda for the first time.

When Trump was winging it, he could be persuaded of all kinds of things. If a foreign visitor or caller was one of his favored strongmen, Trump would always give the strongman’s views and version of events the benefit of the doubt over those of his own advisers. During a cabinet meeting with a visiting Hungarian delegation in May 2019, for example, Trump cut off acting U.S. Defense Secretary Patrick Shanahan, who was trying to make a point about a critical European security issue. In front of everyone, Trump told Shanahan that the autocratic Hungarian prime minister, Viktor Orban, had already explained it all to him when they had met in the Oval Office moments earlier—and that Orban knew the issue better than Shanahan did, anyway. In Trump’s mind, the Hungarian strongman simply had more authority than the American officials who worked for Trump himself. The other leader was his equal, and his staff members were not. For Trump, all pertinent information trickled down from him, not up to him. This tendency of Trump’s was lamentable when it played out behind closed doors, but it was inexcusable (and indeed impossible to explain or justify) when it spilled out into public view—which is precisely what happened during the now legendarily disastrous press conference after Trump’s meeting with Putin in Helsinki.

Before the press conference, Trump was pleased with how things had gone in his one-on-one meeting with Putin. The optics in Finland’s presidential palace were to Trump’s liking. The two men had agreed to get U.S.-Russian arms control negotiations going again and to convene meetings between their countries’ respective national security councils. Trump was keen to show that he and Putin could have a productive, normal relationship, partly to dispel the prevailing notion that there was something perverse about his ties to the Russian president. Trump was eager to brush away allegations that he had conspired with the Kremlin in its interference in the 2016 U.S. presidential election or that the Russians had somehow compromised him—matters that at the time of the meeting, Special Counsel Robert Mueller was actively investigating.

Things went wrong as soon as the press conference began. Trump expected public praise for meeting with Putin and tackling the nuclear threat. But the U.S. journalists in attendance were not interested in arms control. They wanted to know about the one-on-one meeting and what Putin might have said or not said regarding 2016 and election interference. Jonathan Lemire of the Associated Press asked Trump whether he believed Putin, who had repeatedly denied that his country had done anything to meddle in the election, or the U.S. intelligence agencies, which had concluded the opposite. Lemire pressed Trump: “Would you now, with the whole world watching, tell President Putin—would you denounce what happened in 2016 and would you warn him to never do it again?”

Trump balked. He really didn’t want to answer. The only way that Trump could view Russia’s broad-based attack on the U.S. democratic system was through the lens of his own ego and image. In my interactions with Trump and his closest staff in the White House, it had become clear to me that endorsing the conclusions of the U.S. intelligence agencies would be tantamount to admitting that Trump had not won the 2016 election. The questions got right to the heart of his insecurities. If Trump said, “Yes, the Russians interfered on my behalf,” then he might as well have said outright, “I am illegitimate.”

So as he often did in such situations, Trump tried to divert attention elsewhere. He went off on a tangent about a convoluted conspiracy theory involving Ukraine and the emails of his 2016 opponent, Hillary Clinton, and then produced a muddled, rambling answer to Lemire’s question, the crux of which was this:

My people came to me. . . . They said they think it’s Russia. I have President Putin; he just said it’s not Russia. I will say this. I don’t see any reason why it would be. . . . But I have confidence in both parties. . . . I have great confidence in my intelligence people, but I will tell you that President Putin was extremely strong and powerful in his denial today.

The outcome of the Helsinki press conference was entirely predictable, which was why I and others had counseled against holding it at all. But it was still agonizing to watch. I was sitting in front of the podium as Trump spoke, immediately behind the U.S. national security adviser and the secretary of state. I saw them stiffen slightly, and I contemplated throwing a fit or faking a seizure and hurling myself backward into the row of journalists behind me. I just wanted to end the whole thing. Perhaps contrary to the expectations of many American observers, even Putin was somewhat dismayed. He reveled in the national and personal humiliation that Trump was courting, but he also knew that Trump’s careless remarks would provoke a backlash in the United States and thus further constrain the U.S. president’s already limited room to maneuver on Russia policy. The modest agreements for further high-level meetings were already out the window. As he exited the room, Putin told his press secretary, within earshot of our interpreter, that the press conference had been “bullshit.”

Trump’s critics immediately pounced on his bizarre conduct in Helsinki. It was more evidence that Trump was in league with Putin and that the Kremlin held sway over the American president. The following year, Mueller’s final investigative report determined that during the 2016 U.S. presidential election, the Trump campaign had in fact been willing to exploit any derogatory information about Clinton that came its way from whatever source, including Russia. In seeking to thwart Clinton’s bid to become the first female American president, the Trump campaign and the Kremlin had been acting in parallel; their goals had aligned. Mueller concluded that although this did not amount to a criminal conspiracy, there was plenty of evidence of an extensive and sophisticated Russian political influence operation against the United States.

Russia and the United States were not so different—and Putin, for one, knew it.

The Mueller report also sketched the contours of a different, arguably more pernicious kind of “Russian connection.” In some crucial ways, Russia and the United States were not so different—and Putin, for one, knew it. In the very early years of the post–Cold War era, many analysts and observers had hoped that Russia would slowly but surely converge in some ways with the United States. They predicted that once the Soviet Union and communism had fallen away, Russia would move toward a form of liberal democracy. By the late 1990s, it was clear that such an outcome was not on the horizon. And in more recent years, quite the opposite has happened: the United States has begun to move closer to Russia, as populism, cronyism, and corruption have sapped the strength of American democracy. This is a development that few would have foreseen 20 years ago, but one that American leaders should be doing everything in their power to halt and reverse.

Indeed, over time, the United States and Russia have become subject to the same economic and social forces. Their populations have proved equally susceptible to political manipulation. Prior to the 2016 U.S. election, Putin recognized that the United States was on a path similar to the one that Russia took in the 1990s, when economic dislocation and political upheaval after the collapse of the Soviet Union had left the Russian state weak and insolvent. In the United States, decades of fast-paced social and demographic changes and the Great Recession of 2008–9 had weakened the country and increased its vulnerability to subversion. Putin realized that despite the lofty rhetoric that flowed from Washington about democratic values and liberal norms, beneath the surface, the United States was beginning to resemble his own country: a place where self-dealing elites had hollowed out vital institutions and where alienated, frustrated people were increasingly open to populist and authoritarian appeals. The fire was already burning; all Putin had to do was pour on some gasoline.

A SPECIAL RELATIONSHIP

When Trump was elected, Putin and the Kremlin made no attempt to conceal their glee. They had thought that Clinton would become president and that she would focus on criticizing Putin’s style of governance and constraining Russia. They had steeled themselves and prepared for the worst. Instead, they got the best possible outcome from their perspective—a populist, nativistic president with no prior experience in foreign policy and a huge, fragile ego. Putin recognized Trump as a type and grasped his political predilections immediately: Trump, after all, fit a mold that Putin himself had helped forge as the first populist leader to take power in a major country in the twenty-first century. Putin had blazed the trail that Trump would follow during his four years in office.

The essence of populism is creating a direct link with “the people” or with specific groups within a population, then offering them quick fixes for complex problems and bypassing or eliminating intermediaries such as political parties, parliamentary representatives, and established institutions. Referendums, plebiscites, and executive orders are the preferred tools of the populist leader, and Putin has used them all over the past 20 years. When he came to power on December 31, 1999, at the end of a decade of crisis and strife in Russia, Putin promised to fix everything. Unlike his predecessor, Boris Yeltsin, Putin did not belong to a formal political party. He was the champion of a looser, personalized movement. After 2000, Putin turned Russian presidential elections into national referendums on himself by making sure his rivals were obscure (or wholly manufactured) opposition candidates. And at every critical juncture during his time in power, Putin has adjusted Russia’s political system to entrench himself in the Kremlin. Finally, in 2020, he formally amended the constitution so that in theory (and health permitting), he can run for reelection and stay in power until 2036.

Putin blazed the trail that Trump would follow during his four years in office.

All of Putin’s machinations greatly impressed Trump. He wanted to “get along” with Russia and with Putin personally. Practically the only thing Trump ever said to me during my time in his administration was to ask, in reference to Putin, “Am I going to like him?” Before I could answer, the other officials in the room got up to leave, and the president’s attention shifted; such was life as a female adviser in the Trump White House.

Trump took at face value rumors that Putin was the richest man in the world and told close associates that he admired Putin for his presumed wealth and for the way he ran Russia as if it were his own private company. As Trump freely admitted, he wanted to do the same thing. He saw the United States as an extension of his other private enterprises: the Trump Organization, but with the world’s largest military at its disposal. This was a troubling perspective for a U.S. president, and indeed, over the course of his time in office, Trump came to more closely resemble Putin in political practice than he resembled any of his American predecessors.

At times, the similarities between Trump and Putin were glaringly obvious: their shared manipulation and exploitation of the domestic media, their appeals to their own versions of their countries’ “golden age,” their compilation of personal lists of “national heroes” to appeal to their voters’ nostalgia and conservatism—and their attendant compilation of personal lists of enemies to do the same for their voters’ darker sides. Putin put statues of Soviet-era figures back on their pedestals and restored Soviet memorials that had been toppled under Gorbachev and Yeltsin. Trump tried to prevent the removal of statues of Confederate leaders and the renaming of American military bases honoring Confederate generals. The two men also shared many of the same enemies: cosmopolitan, liberal elites; the American financier, philanthropist, and open society promoter George Soros; and anyone trying to expand voting rights, improve electoral systems, or cast a harsh light on corruption in their countries’ respective executive branches.

Trump also aped Putin’s willingness to abuse his executive power by going after his political adversaries; Trump’s first impeachment was provoked in part by his attempt to coerce the government of Ukraine into smearing one of his most formidable opponents, Joe Biden, ahead of the 2020 presidential election. And Trump imported Putin’s style of personalist rule, bypassing the professional civil servants in the federal government—a nefarious “deep state,” in Trump’s eyes—to rely instead on the counsel and interventions of cronies. Foreign politicians called in chits with celebrities who had personal connections to the president and his family, avoiding their own embassies in the process. Lobbyists complained to whomever they could reach in the West Wing or the Trump family circle. They were quick to set attack dogs on anyone perceived as an obstacle and to rile up pro-Trump trolls on the Internet, because this always seemed to work. Influence peddlers both domestic and foreign courted the president to pursue their own priorities; the policymaking process became, in essence, privatized.


Trump and Putin shake hands in Helsinki, Finland, July 2018Kevin Lamarque / Reuters

The event that most clearly revealed the convergence of politics in the United States and Russia during Trump’s term was his disorganized but deadly serious attempt to stage a self-coup and halt the peaceful transfer of executive power after he lost the 2020 election to Biden. Russia, after all, has a long history of coups and succession crises, dating back to the tsarist era, including three during the past 30 years. In August 1991, hard-liners opposed to Gorbachev’s reforms staged a brief putsch, declaring a state of emergency and placing Gorbachev under house arrest at his vacation home. The effort fizzled, and the coup was a debacle, but it helped bring down the Soviet Union. Two years later, violence erupted from a bitter dispute between the Russian parliament and Yeltsin over the respective powers of the legislature and the president in competing drafts of a new constitution. Yeltsin moved to dissolve parliament after it refused to confirm his choice for prime minister. His vice president and the Speaker of the parliament, in response, sought to impeach him. In the end, Yeltsin invoked “extraordinary powers” and called out the Russian army to shell the parliament building, thus settling the argument with brute force.

The next coup was a legal one and came in 2020, when Putin wanted to amend Yeltsin’s version of the constitution to beef up his presidential powers—and, more important, to remove the existing term limits so that he could potentially stay on as president until 2036. As a proxy to propose the necessary constitutional amendments, Putin tapped Valentina Tereshkova, a loyal supporter in parliament and, as a cosmonaut and the first woman to travel to outer space, an iconic figure in Russian society. Putin’s means were subtler than Yeltsin’s in 1993, but his methods were no less effective.

It would have been impossible for any close observer of recent Russian history to not recall those episodes on January 6, when a mob whipped up by Trump and his allies—who had spent weeks claiming that the 2020 election had been stolen from him—stormed the U.S. Capitol and tried to stop the formal certification of the election results. The attack on the Capitol was the culmination of four years of conspiracies and lies that Trump and his allies had fed to his supporters on social media platforms, in speeches, and on television. The “Big Lie” that Trump had won the election was built on the backs of the thousands of little lies that Trump uttered nearly every time he spoke and that were then nurtured within the dense ecosystem of Trumpist media outlets. This was yet one more way in which, under Trump, the United States came to resemble Russia, where Putin has long solidified his grip on power by manipulating the Russian media, fueling nationalist grievances, and peddling conspiracy theories.

I ALONE

Trump put the United States on a path to autocracy, all the while promising to “make America great again.” Likewise, Putin took Russia back toward the authoritarianism of the Soviet Union under the guise of strengthening the state and restoring the country’s global position. This striking convergence casts U.S.-Russian relations and the exigencies of Washington’s approach to Moscow in a new light.

Historically, U.S. policies toward Russia have been premised on the idea that the two countries’ paths and expectations diverged at the end of the Cold War. In the immediate aftermath of the collapse of the Soviet Union, Western analysts had initially thought that Russia might embrace some of the international institutional arrangements that Washington and its allies had long championed. That, of course, did not happen. And under Putin, U.S.-Russian relations have become more frazzled and fraught than at any point in the 1990s.

There is something confounding about the ongoing confrontation between the two countries, which seems like an artifact from another era. During the Cold War, the stakes of the conflict were undeniable. The Soviet Union posed an existential threat to the United States and its allies, and vice versa. The two superpowers faced off in an ideological clash between capitalism and communism and a geopolitical tussle over spheres of influence in Europe. Today, Russia maintains the capacity to obliterate the United States, but the Soviet Union and the communist system are gone. And even though foreign policy circles in Washington and Moscow still view U.S.-Russian relations through the lens of great-power competition, the struggle for Europe is over. For the United States, China, not Russia, poses the greatest foreign policy challenge of the twenty-first century, along with the urgent existential threats of climate change and global pandemics.

The ongoing confrontation between the two countries seems like an artifact from another era.

Yet a sense of confrontation and competition persists. Americans point to a pattern of Russian aggression and provocation: Russia’s invasion of Georgia in 2008, its annexation of Crimea in 2014 and its subsequent assaults on Ukraine’s territory and sovereignty, its intervention in Syria in 2015, the Kremlin’s interference in the 2016 U.S. presidential election, and the frequent ransomware attacks and email hacks attributed to Russian actors. Russians, for their part, point to the expansion of NATO into eastern Europe and the Baltic states, the U.S. bombing of Belgrade during the Kosovo war in 1999, Washington’s decision to invade Iraq in 2003, U.S. support for the “color revolutions” that took place in post-Soviet states such as Georgia and Ukraine in the first decade of this century, and the uprisings in the Middle East during the Arab Spring. In Moscow, all of these serve as proof that Washington is hell-bent on invasion and regime change and also has Russia and Putin in its cross hairs.

In truth, most American policymakers simply wish that Russia would just go away so they can refocus their attention on what really matters. For their Russian counterparts, however, the United States still represents the main opponent. That is because, as a populist leader, Putin sees the United States not just as a geopolitical threat to Russia but also as a personal threat to himself. For Putin, foreign policy and domestic policy have fused. His attempt to retain Russia’s grip on the independent countries that were once part of the Soviet Union and to reassert Moscow’s influence in other global arenas is inseparable from his effort to consolidate and expand his authority at home.

Putin sits at the apex of a personalized and semi-privatized kleptocratic system that straddles the Russian state and its institutions and population. He has embedded loyalists in every important Russian institution, enterprise, and industry. If Putin wants to retain the presidency until 2036—by which time he will be 84 years old and will have become the longest-serving modern Russian ruler—he will have to maintain this level of control or even increase it, since any slippage might be perceived as weakness. To do so, Putin has to deter or defeat any opponents, foreign or domestic, who have the capacity to undermine his regime. His hope is that leaders in the United States will get so bogged down with problems at home that they will cease criticizing his personalization of power and will eschew any efforts to transform Russia similar to those the U.S. government carried out in the 1990s.


Putin observing Russian military exercises in the Nizhny Novgorod region, Russia, September 2021Sputnik Photo Agency / Reuters

Putin also blurs the line between domestic and foreign policy to distract the Russian population from the distortions and deficiencies of his rule. On the one hand, he stresses how decadent and dissolute the United States has become and how ill suited its leaders are to teach anyone a lesson on how to run a country. On the other hand, he stresses that the United States still poses a military threat and that it aims to bring Russia to its knees. Putin’s constant refrain is that the contest between Russia and the United States is a perpetual Darwinian struggle and that without his leadership, Russia will not survive. Without Putin, there is no Russia. He does not want things to get completely out of hand and lead to war. But he also does not want the standoff to fade away or get resolved. As the sole true champion of his country and his people, he can never be seen to stand down or compromise when it comes to the Americans.

Similarly, Putin must intimidate, marginalize, defuse, or defeat any opposition to his rule. Anyone who might stand in his way must be crushed. In this sense, the jailed Russian opposition leader Alexei Navalny and Clinton fall into the same category. In Putin’s view, if Clinton had become U.S. president, she would have continued to hound him and hold him to task, just as she did when she served as secretary of state in the Obama administration, by promoting democracy and civil society to root out corruption in Russia.

Of course, Navalny is far more dangerous to Putin than Clinton would have been. Navalny is a Russian, not a foreigner. He is a next-generation alternative to Putin: young, handsome, charismatic, patriotic, and defiant. He poses a threat to Putin not only owing to their differences but also because of a few key similarities: like Putin, Navalny is a populist who heads a movement rather than a party, and he has not been averse to playing on nationalist sentiments to appeal to the same Russian voters who form Putin’s base. Navalny has survived an audacious assassination attempt and has humiliated Putin on numerous occasions. By skillfully using digital media and slick video skills to highlight the excesses of the Russian leader’s kleptocratic system, Navalny has gotten under Putin’s skin. He has forced the Kremlin to pay attention to him. This is why Navalny is in jail and why Putin has moved swiftly to roll up his movement, forestalling any chance that Navalny might compete for the presidency in 2024.

THE TASK AT HAND

The current U.S.-Russian relationship no longer mirrors the Cold War challenge, even if some geopolitical contours and antagonisms persist. The old U.S. foreign policy approach of balancing deterrence with limited engagement is ill suited to the present task of dealing with Putin’s insecurities. And after Trump’s disastrous performance at Helsinki, it is also clear that the arms control summitry that took the edge off the acute phase of the Cold War and nuclear confrontation can provide little guidance for how to anchor the future relationship. The primary problem for the Biden administration in dealing with Russia is rooted in the domestic politics of the United States and Russia rather than their foreign policies. The two countries have been heading in the same political direction for some of the same reasons over the last several years. They have similar political susceptibilities. The United States will never change Putin and his threat perceptions, because they are deeply personal. Americans will have to change themselves to blunt the effects of Russian political interference campaigns for the foreseeable future. Achieving that goal will require Biden and his team to integrate their approach to Russia with their efforts to shore up American democracy, tackle inequality and racism, and lead the country out of a period of intense division.

The polarization of American society has become a national security threat, acting as a barrier to the collective action necessary for combating catastrophes and thwarting external dangers. Partisan spectacles during the global covid-19 pandemic have undermined the country’s international standing as a model of liberal democracy and eroded its authority on public health. The United States’ inability to get its act together has hindered the projection of American soft power, or what Biden has called “the power of our example.” During my time in the Trump administration, I watched as every peril was politicized and turned into fodder for personal gain and partisan games. Successive national security advisers, cabinet members, and their professional staffs were unable to mount coherent responses or defenses to security issues in the face of personalized, chaotic, and opportunistic conduct at the top.

In this regard, Putin actually offers an instructive contrast. Trump railed against a mythological American deep state, whereas Putin—who spent decades as an intelligence operative before ascending to office—is a product of Russia’s very real deep state. Unlike Trump, who saw the U.S. state apparatus as his enemy and wanted to rule the country as an outsider, Putin rules Russia as a state insider. Also unlike Trump, Putin rarely dives into Russia’s social, class, racial, or religious divisions to gain political traction. Instead, although he targets individuals and social groups that enjoy little popular support, Putin tends to promote a single, synthetic Russian culture and identity to overcome the domestic conflicts of the past that destabilized and helped bring down both the Russian empire and the Soviet Union. That Putin seeks one Russia while Trump wanted many Americas during his time in office is more than just a difference in political styles: it is a critical data point. It highlights the fact that a successful U.S. policy approach to Russia will rest in part on denying Putin and Russian operatives the possibility to exploit divisions in American society.

The Biden administration must integrate its approach to Russia with its efforts to shore up American democracy.

The United States’ vulnerability to the Kremlin’s subversion has been amplified by social media. American-made technology has magnified the impact of once fringe ideas and subversive actors around the world and become a tool in the hands of hostile states and criminal groups. Extremists can network and reach audiences as never before on platforms such as Facebook and Twitter, which are designed to attract people’s attention and divide them into affinity groups. Putin has weaponized this technology against the United States, taking advantage of the ways that social media undermines social cohesion and erodes Americans’ sense of a shared purpose. Policymakers should step up their cooperation with the private sector in order to cast light on and deter Russian intelligence operations and other efforts to exploit social media platforms. They also need to figure out ways to educate the American public about the perils of posting personal and political information online.

Making the United States and its society more resilient and less vulnerable to manipulation by tackling inequality, corruption, and polarization will require innovative policies across a huge range of issues. Perhaps the highest priority should be given to investing in people where they reside, particularly through education. Education can lower the barriers to opportunity and accurate information in a way that nothing else can. It can help people recognize the difference between fact and fiction. And it offers all people the chance not only to develop knowledge and learn skills but also to continue to transform themselves and their communities.

One thing U.S. leaders should avoid in seeking to foster domestic unity is attempting to mobilize Americans around the idea of a common enemy, such as China. Doing so risks backfiring by stirring up xenophobic anger toward Americans and immigrants of Asian heritage and thus fueling more divisions at home. Instead of trying to rally Americans against China, Biden should rally them in support of the democratic U.S. allies that Trump spurned and derided. Many of those countries, especially in Europe, find themselves in the same political predicament as the United States, as authoritarian leaders and powers seek to exploit socioeconomic strife and populist proclivities among their citizens. Biden should base a new transatlantic agenda on the mutual fight against populism at home and authoritarianism abroad through economic rebuilding and democratic renewal.

Most important, Biden must do everything in his power to restore trust in government and to promote fairness, equity, and justice. As many Americans learned during Trump’s presidency, no country, no matter how advanced, is immune to flawed leadership, the erosion of political checks and balances, and the degradation of its institutions. Democracy is not self-repairing. It requires constant attention

FIONA HILL is Robert Bosch Senior Fellow at the Center on the United States and Europe in the Foreign Policy Program at the Brookings Institution and the author of There Is Nothing for You Here: Finding Opportunity in the Twenty-first Century (Mariner Books, 2021), from which this essay is adapted.