Goodbye to the glorious, stupid wasteland of Twitter: What a hell of a way to die



Robin Epley
Mon, November 7, 2022

Here lies Twitter, we knew ye too well. A tiny blue bird that flew too high before crashing last week, thanks to a joyriding, spiteful billionaire clutching its $44 billion tail feathers.

Twitter, you gave us Bean Dad, Cinnamon Toast shrimp tails, Zola’s hoeism, 30-50 feral hogs, Jorts the cat, the greatest day on the internet and plenty of milkshake ducks. And if you don’t understand a single word in that last sentence, then congratulations on your fulfilling life outside of the internet.

It also gave us unbridled hate speech, racism, misogyny, fatphobia, Nazis and a whole era of unhinged, Trumpian tweets that will live in history books forever. I pity the AP U.S. History students in two decades who have to learn how to spell “covfefe” for their final exam.

Opinion

But, as the kids say — glory, glory hallelujah, what a hell of a way to die.

Watching Twitter die on Twitter is like watching a slow-motion Hindenburg burst into flames, land in a flood, hit an iceberg and blow up.

It’s a fitting end for a platform that everyone loved to hate, but loved to be hateful on even more.

We are gleefully watching the end of Twitter via Twitter, while simultaneously preempting and mourning its loss. I can think of no better analogy for the way we consume — and are consumed by — the internet.

Twitter, you see, is notoriously unprofitable. Despite a never-ending content stream from 450 million monthly, active users that include everyone from Taylor Swift to your neighbor Pat, Twitter reported a net loss of $221 million in 2021 and a $1.1 billion loss in 2020.

So Elon Musk — who has little experience in making anything profitable — is killing his investment with fast-profit gimmicks, like making users pay to be verified. Meanwhile, there was an “immediate, visible, and measurable spike” in hate speech on the platform in the 12 hours after Musk announced his new ownership, according to the company. Probably because Musk himself encourages conspiracy theories and hateful conduct. He also laid off about half of the company’s workforce on Friday, some 3,700 people, only to invite some of them back come Monday.

The first rule of the internet is to never be earnest about anything, but in these final days, I’m going to be sincere about Twitter for just a moment:

Despite its well-earned reputation for terrible people and worse takes, there are actually whole communities of genuinely kind and smart people who daily use the platform to communicate, share information and keep up with friends.

Those communities thrived during the pandemic, and the platform let us keep friendships alive during those years of enforced social isolation.

I’ve made friends in countries all over the world simply because we found a common interest on Twitter. Those are the kind of friendships that will weather Musk’s ability to ruin previously-functioning companies. And I suppose that one of the few blessings in Millennials getting older is that we no longer have to defend our online lives — they’re now the status quo.

We work on the internet, we hail cabs on the internet, we order food through the internet and we connect with the world through the internet. We make friends on the internet too.

You don’t have to understand Twitter, or even use it, to appreciate that.

And unlike other social media platforms, Twitter is inherently text-based — just as Instagram is image-based and TikTok is video-based — so there is no equivalent to Twitter currently on the media landscape.

I don’t know if I’m going to stay or go yet. I wish I did, but it’s not a simple matter of moving platforms and communities over wholesale. A large part of me hopes Musk will lose interest before I have to decide.

There’s plenty of conjecture about what might be next, though.

Former Twitter CEO Jack Dorsey — who encouraged Musk’s buyout — says he’s launching a similar site called Bluesky Social. An increasing number of people seem to be migrating over to Mastodon, an open-source microblogging software platform. Reddit, too, the granddaddy of online community platforms, could be another inheritor of Twitter refugees.

It may not be cool to say it, but there are a lot of people who enjoyed Twitter and will be sorry to lose it, myself included. I suspect that like MySpace and Tumblr before it, Twitter will still nominally exist, but the community will never be the same. That’s what happens in the graveyard of irrelevant social mediums.

As for those of us that used it, we will find another platform. Old friends will find old friends. Communities will regrow. Maybe burning it to the ground and starting over is the only way to truly move on.

But wherever we wind up, I hope we take the lessons we’ve learned from Twitter with us. That free speech cannot exist without the thoughtful moderation of hate. That the world needs a town square.

And for the love of God, I hope the next place has an edit button.

Stakhanovite

The Twitter manager who went viral for sleeping on the floor of company HQ survived Elon Musk's layoffs

Grace Kay
Mon, November 7, 2022 

An employee posted a picture on Twitter of Esther Crawford sleeping in the office. Twitter

The manager who went viral for sleeping at Twitter's headquarters survived Elon Musk's layoffs, sources told Insider.


Last week, a Twitter employee posted a photo of Esther Crawford in a sleeping bag at the office.


Musk has said he works 120-hour weeks and has slept on Tesla's factory floor in the past.

It might take some sleepless nights to survive Elon Musk's Twitter takeover.

Esther Crawford, the Twitter manager who went viral for sleeping at Twitter's San Francisco headquarters last week, survived the mass layoff that took out about 50% of the social media company's staff on Friday, sources familiar with the matter from within the company told Insider.

As thousands of Twitter staff tweeted farewell to the company on Friday, Crawford gave an update on the company's plans for Twitter Blue — a service that would allow users to pay for verification and other features for $7.99 per month. Previously, the company had offered Twitter Blue for $2.99 per month as a service that would allow users to access special features like editing tweets or reducing ads.

"The new Blue isn't live yet — the sprint to our launch continues but some folks may see us making updates because we are testing and pushing changes in real-time," Crawford tweeted on Friday afternoon. "The Twitter team is legendary. New Blue… coming soon!"

Crawford has been the director of product management at Twitter for nearly two years, according to her LinkedIn profile. The Information reported last week that the manager "appears to be rising in prominence" at Twitter since Musk completed his purchase.

Crawford did not respond to a request for comment from Insider ahead of publication.

But Crawford's apparent ability to weather the storm at Twitter points to a larger trend at the company and new expectations for productivity. Within days of the takeover, Musk eliminated "days of rest" at Twitter. He's also ordered people working on "Elon-critical projects," like getting a new subscription model for verification, to work "literally 24/7" and in 12-hour shifts, according to an internal memo seen by Insider's Kali Hays.

Musk has long been known for his high expectations for employees. At Tesla and SpaceX, workers are known to work grueling hours as the billionaire strives to hit lofty goals. The CEO has said in the past he has slept on Tesla's factory floor and worked 120 hour weeks to meet his targets.

Ultimately, Crawford's night at the office echoes Musk's goals for productivity.

"When your team is pushing round the clock to make deadlines sometimes you #SleepWhereYouWork," she tweeted on Wednesday.

Since, Crawford has repeatedly tweeted her support for laid off "Tweeps." One departing employee called Crawford "the only person I know who could keep a team moving and shipping amid the chaos."

Additional reporting by Kali Hays.

BACKGROUNDER

For Native Americans, a 1978 adoption law protects children. Critics see a racial preference.

John Fritze, USA TODAY
Mon, November 7, 2022

WASHINGTON – Some of Autumn Adams' most vivid childhood memories involve sitting in a courtroom or talking with child protective services after her father died, her mother was deemed unfit to be a parent and she was thrust suddenly into foster care.

Adams was 9 years old.

Looking back, she partly credits a 1978 law setting special rules for custody of Native American children for helping her navigate the trauma of that time. The law, which prioritizes Native American families for the custody of Native children, meant she was able to keep her bond with the Yakama Nation even as the rest of her world fell apart.

Adams was placed with an aunt and then a grandmother, both of whom lived on the Yakama Reservation in Washington state.

"Having that connection not only to my family but to my culture through my family members, I was able to pull through one of the darkest and most trying times in my life," said Adams, now in her second year of law school at Arizona State University. "I was able to rely on my culture to pull me through and keep me grounded."

The Supreme Court will hear arguments Wednesday in a case challenging that law, the Indian Child Welfare Act, which Congress approved to stop a decadeslong practice of attempting to assimilate Native American children by removing them from their tribes and placing them with non-Native families or in boarding schools.

Non-Native families who have sought to adopt Native American children say the law violates the 14th Amendment because it gives a preference to one race over others. The original plaintiffs in the case, which also included the states of Texas, Indiana and Louisiana, argued Congress overstepped its authority by passing a law that sets requirements for state child-custody proceedings. Indiana and Louisiana later dropped off the litigation.

If a majority of the court agrees with that view, it will once again put race front and center at the nation's highest court. The nine justices are already weighing a potentially monumental challenge to affirmative action, as well as a case involving the use of race in the once-a-decade process of congressional redistricting.

Critics say the law, however well-intentioned, can wind up harming Native American children in other circumstances, such as by setting a higher legal standard for removing them from abusive households. The Goldwater Institute has called attention to cases in which a child was killed after being returned to biological parents under the law.

"State officials are forced to send Indian children back to a home they know to be abusive, which would not happen in cases involving children of other races," said Timothy Sandefur, vice president for legal affairs at Goldwater, a conservative think tank that has represented clients opposed to the law in other cases.

Another problem Sandefur sees: tribal leadership stepping in to oppose adoptions under the law even if there aren't available options for placement with Native families.

"Because of an ideological opposition to Indian children being adopted by any other race, these children end up bouncing from one foster home to another," he said.

Leaders of several of the nation's best-known tribes, joined by the Biden administration, have rejected that argument. Proponents say the law's requirements are based not on race, but rather that Native American tribes are sovereign. Congress, they argue, has broad power to pass laws protecting Native Americans.

Gorsuch: Native Americans are winning at the Supreme Court with help from Gorsuch

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Oklahoma: Supreme Court sides with Oklahoma over crimes on Native territory

They see the lawsuit as an attack not only on their sovereignty, but also on their children, who they say benefit most when placed with their families and communities.

"We will not go back to a time when our children were stolen from our communities without cause," Charles Martin, chairman of the Morongo Band of Mission Indians in California, said during a call with reporters last month.

The law has in the past divided the Supreme Court in unpredictable ways. In 2013, a 5-4 majority sided with a 3-year-old girl's non-Native adoptive parents over a claim made by her biological father, who was a member of the Cherokee Nation and had objected to the adoption after the fact. In an opinion written by Associate Justice Samuel Alito, a conservative, the court ruled that a noncustodial parent could not invoke the law.

A law enforcement official stands on the steps of the U.S. Supreme 

Court Building on October 03, 2022.

The child involved in that case, who was widely known as "Baby Veronica," was considered Native American because she was 3/256ths Cherokee.

Alito's opinion was joined by Associate Justice Anthony Kennedy, then the court's swing vote, and Associate Justice Stephen Breyer, a liberal. Associate Justice Clarence Thomas wrote a concurring opinion raising more fundamental concerns with the law.

While that case suggests some members of the court's conservative majority are skeptical of the law, that may not be a universal position. Associate Justice Neil Gorsuch, who joined the court in 2017, has frequently sided with Native American interests even when that has meant breaking from his conservative colleagues.

Other associate justices to watch: Brett Kavanaugh, Amy Coney Barrett and Ketanji Brown Jackson, all of whom joined the court after the 2013 decision.

Both Barrett and Chief Justice John Roberts are adoptive parents.

The appeal follows a deeply fractured opinion from the U.S. Court of Appeals for the 5th Circuit, which split evenly on several of the law’s provisions. The result upheld a federal district court’s determination that some provisions of the law are unconstitutional.

Native American tribes have secured a number of high-profile victories at the Supreme Court in recent years, including a 5-4 decision in 2020 that ruled Congress never disestablished the Muscogee (Creek) Nation's reservation, an area that encompasses 3 million acres and hundreds of thousands of non-Natives.

That decision vastly expanded what is considered Native territory in Oklahoma.

But last year, in an opinion written by Kavanaugh, the court backed Oklahoma over the same tribe in a struggle for jurisdiction over certain crimes on Native American land. The big difference between those two cases: Associate Justice Ruth Bader Ginsburg, who backed the tribe in 2020, died months later. She was succeeded by Barrett, who voted for the state instead of a criminal defendant who argued that the state lacked the authority to prosecute a crime that took place on Native land.

This article originally appeared on USA TODAY: Supreme Court tackles race, Native American history in adoption fight

Native child welfare law faces major Supreme Court challenge







Rosa Soto Alvarez, of Tucson,, holds a flag of the Pascua Yaqui Tribe as she and other Native Americans stand outside the federal appeals court in New Orleans, Wednesday, Jan. 22, 2020. Parts of a federal law giving Native American families preference in the adoption of Native American children were effectively struck down Tuesday, April 6, 2021 by a sharply divided federal appeals court, a defeat for tribal leaders who said the 1978 law was important to protecting their families and culture. The U.S. Supreme Court will hear arguments, Wednesday, Nov. 9, 2022 on the most significant challenge to the Indian Child Welfare Act that gives preference to Native American families in foster care and adoption proceedings of Native American children since it passed in 1978. 

(AP Photo/Kevin McGill, File)

FELICIA FONSECA and MARK SHERMAN
Sun, November 6, 2022 

FLAGSTAFF, Ariz. (AP) — The U.S. Supreme Court is set to hear arguments Wednesday on the most significant challenge to a law that gives preference to Native American families in foster care and adoption proceedings of Native children.

The outcome could undercut the 1978 Indian Child Welfare Act, which was enacted in response to the alarming rate at which Native American and Alaska Native children were taken from their homes by public and private agencies. Tribes also fear more widespread impacts in the ability to govern themselves if the justices rule against them.

The law requires states to notify tribes and seek placement with the child’s extended family, members of the child’s tribe or other Native American families. It’s long been championed by tribal leaders as a means of preserving their families, traditions and cultures.

Three white families, Texas and a small number of other states claim the law is based on race and is unconstitutional under the equal protection clause. They also contend it puts the interests of tribes ahead of children. Lower courts have been split on the case.

“This is an all-out nuclear war attack on ICWA,” said Mary Kathryn Nagle, a Cherokee attorney for the National Indigenous Women's Resource Center who filed a brief in support of the law. “We have not seen that before. That’s either ironic or interesting, because the law has been on the books for 44 years, and this is the first time the constitutionality of the law has been challenged. This is unprecedented."

More than three-quarters of the 574 federally recognized tribes in the country have asked the high court to uphold the law in full, along with tribal organizations. They fear widespread impacts if the court attempts to dismantle the tribes' status as political sovereigns.

Nearly two dozen state attorneys general across the political spectrum filed a brief in support of the law. Some of those states have codified the federal law into their own state laws.

“We disagree on many things,” the brief reads. “But we all agree that ICWA is a critical — and constitutionally valid — framework for managing state-tribal relations, protecting the rights of Indian children, and preventing the unwarranted displacement of Indian children from their families and communities.”

Texas, Louisiana, Indiana and seven individuals have sued over the provisions of the law, though not all are involved in the case before the high court. The lead plaintiffs in the Supreme Court case — Chad and Jennifer Brackeen of Fort Worth, Texas — said the law doesn't have the best interest of children at heart.

“It’s important for people to understand that this is not just a law," Jennifer Brackeen, an anesthesiologist, said in an interview with The Associated Press.

She and her husband, Chad, adopted a Native American child after a prolonged legal fight with the Navajo Nation, one of the two largest Native American tribes, based in the U.S. Southwest. They are trying to adopt the boy’s half-sister, now 4, who has lived with them since infancy. The Navajo Nation has opposed that adoption.

A major problem with the law, Chad Brackeen said, is its lack of flexibility.

“We feel primary consideration is that all children, regardless of race, should be placed in loving forever homes,” Jennifer Brackeen said.

A federal district court in Texas initially sided with the group of plaintiffs in 2018 and struck down much of the Indian Child Welfare Act, ruling it was race-based and unconstitutional.

But in 2019, a three-judge federal appeals court panel voted 2-1 to reverse the district court and uphold the law. The full court then agreed to hear the case and struck down some of the provisions, including preferences for placing Native children with Native adoptive families and in Native foster homes. It also said Congress overstepped its authority by imposing its will on state officials in adoption matters.

But it upheld the determination that the law is based on the political relationship between the tribes and the U.S. government, not race.

The high court has twice taken up cases on the Indian Child Welfare Act before, in 1989 and in 2013, that have stirred immense emotion.

All of the children who have been involved in the current case at one point are enrolled or could be enrolled as Navajo, Cherokee, White Earth Band of Ojibwe and Ysleta del Sur Pueblo. Some of the adoptions have been finalized while some are still being challenged. How those are affected by the Supreme Court case could depend on how the high court rules.

Before the Indian Child Welfare Act was enacted, between 25% and 35% of Native American children were being taken from their homes and placed with adoptive families, in foster care or in institutions. Most were placed with white families or in boarding schools in attempts to assimilate them.

“They would just swoop in and take our kids,” said Michelle Beaudin, a council member of the Lac Courte Oreilles Tribe in Wisconsin. “And they didn't know their culture, they were just brought into another world. There was no justification for them to come into our communities."

Kate Fort, who represents intervening tribes in the case, said Native American children remain disproportionately represented in the system, but the actual figures vary dramatically by state.

“It’s better than when ICWA was passed, but we still have work to do,” she said in a recent call with reporters.

Beaudin, who was a foster care parent for more than 10 years, adopted her now 22-year-old daughter. She saw great value in ensuring that her daughter stayed connected to both her Ojibwe and Ho-Chunk heritage by passing down traditional skirts and participating in cultural ceremonies.

“That really helped her be confident in who she is and where she came from,” Beaudin said. “She had those pieces of her. If you don't know where you came from and who your people are and what your culture is about, you don't have a sense of belonging anywhere.”

___ 

Fonseca covers Indigenous communities on the AP’s Race and Ethnicity team. Follow Fonseca on Twitter @FonsecaAP. Sherman reported from Washington. Associated Press writer Sophie Austin in Sacramento, California, contributed to this report. Austin is a corps member for the Associated Press/Report for America Statehouse News Initiative. Report for America is a nonprofit national service program that places journalists in local newsrooms to report on undercovered issues. Follow Austin on Twitter @sophieadanna.

___
Maintain tribal authority over adoption of Indigenous children


1
Kitty Miller, Anna Lawson, Martha Phillips and John Maddaus
Sun, November 6, 2022 

On Nov. 9, the U.S. Supreme Court will hear oral argument in Haaland v. Brackeen, a case brought by three states and individual prospective non-Indian adoptive parents. It challenges the constitutionality and provisions of the Indian Child Welfare Act (ICWA), enacted in 1978 to ensure tribal authority over the adoption of Indigenous children. ICWA addressed the then-common removal of Indian children from their homes and placement with non-Native families, a practice so widespread and disproportionate to similar actions among non-Native children that it showed grave lack of understanding of tribal cultures and the vital role of Native extended families. This caused a serious threat to tribal survival.

Brackeen contains a radical attack on the entire body of federal Indian law. It argues the federal concept of “Indian” is based on a racial classification that violates the equal protection of the 14th Amendment. This contradicts the history of tribal sovereignty in federal courts, which have consistently held that “federal legislation with respect to Indian tribes ... is not based on impermissible racial classifications” (U.S. v. Antelope, 430 U.S. 641, 1977). "Indian" is a political classification based on membership in a federally recognized tribe. This distinction flows from the Supremacy Clause of the U.S. Constitution, which gives the federal government exclusive authority over relations with Indian tribes. Any limitation on this federal authority would negate federal ability to fully administer its trust responsibility. Brackeen also challenges ICWA’s placement preferences and regulations promoted by the Bureau of Indian Affairs.

The three plaintiff states in Brackeen (Texas, Louisiana, Indiana) have tiny Indian populations. Many parties have filed “friend of the court” briefs supporting ICWA: 497 tribes, 62 tribal organizations, 27 states containing 94 percent of all federally recognized tribes, and many child welfare organizations. New Mexico is home to 23 sovereign tribal nations — 19 Pueblos, three Apache tribes, the Navajo Nation — each of which is culturally distinct. In 2022, the New Mexico Legislature enacted the Indian Family Protection Act, which incorporated many of the provisions of ICWA into state law.

As people of faith, Christian churches have a special responsibility to protect ICWA because of the roles we have historically played in forcibly taking Native children from their homes to draconian boarding schools whose goal was to eliminate tribal languages and cultures, and often resulted in Native children’s deaths. We must stand with our Indigenous siblings. We urge Christians to support ICWA to protect tribal sovereignty and authority over tribal adoptions and children’s protection. Our church (First Congregational Church, United Church of Christ, Albuquerque) is honored to join the excellent friend of the court brief by the National Indigenous Women’s Resource Center, Stephanie Benally and Sandy White Hawk, et al., in this case. We’re proud to live in one of the 10 states that have enacted laws protecting tribal authority over adoptions of Native children. As ICWA states, “(t)here is no resource ... more vital to the continued existence of Indian tribes than their children.”

Kitty Miller, Anna Lawson, Martha Phillips and John Maddaus are members of the First Congregational Church, United Church of Christ Racial Justice Team in Albuquerque.

This article originally appeared on Las Cruces Sun-News: Commentary: Maintain tribal authority over adoption of Indigenous children

FAIR AND BALANCED 

FOX SUPPORTS 'WHITE' ADOPTIVE PARENTS

Supreme Court to hear case of Texas couple fighting to keep adopted Native American child

Tyler Olson

Sun, November 6, 2022

The Supreme Court this week will hear the case of a Texas family at risk of losing one of their two adopted Native American children because of a federal law they allege gives tribes "race-based" priority in custody disputes.

The case, Haaland v. Brackeen, combines litigation from a handful of other families and multiple interested states, including Texas, where Chad and Jennifer Brackeen live with their children. The tribes defending the law, meanwhile, warn that if the Brackeens win, the case could have far-reaching consequences that undermine their sovereignty.

At the center of the controversy is the Indian Child Welfare Act (ICWA), a 1970s law meant to protect Native American children in state custody proceedings.

"There are Americans out there who are eager to help these children out, and the Indian Child Welfare Act says they are not allowed to because their skin is the wrong color," Timothy Sandefur, an adjunct scholar at the libertarian Cato Institute, told Fox News Digital.

Chad and Jennifer Brackeen told Fox News Digital that they are worried their adopted daughter, Y.R.J., could be "ripped" from their family thanks to the Indian Child Welfare Act.

TEXAS FAMILY FIGHTS AT SUPREME COURT TO KEEP ADOPTED NATIVE AMERICAN CHILD DUE TO LAW THAT FAVORS TRIBES

"That's outrageous and unconstitutional," he said. Sandefur wrote a brief for the Goldwater institute supporting striking down ICWA.

ICWA was a reaction to high rates of Native children being adopted by non-tribal members – often with little process and unjustly.

It prioritizes placing Native children with extended family members, members of their tribe, and if that's not possible, with another Native family. Exceptions for "good cause" are allowed but not defined.

Tribes argue that their children are key to their continuation as political entities and that their unique status under U.S. law means legislation directed at the tribes isn't race-based.

"The precedent of the Supreme Court is that Indian tribes are political groups of people, they are not racial groups of people," Chrissi Ross Nimmo, the deputy attorney general of Cherokee Nation, told reporters last month. "Tribes determine citizenship ... just like countries."

The Supreme Court will hear the case Haaland v. Brackeen on Nov. 9, 2022. Several Native American tribes and a handful of states are also parties in the case. (Collection of the Supreme Court of the United States via Getty Images)

But critics of the law say it removes the best interest of a child, including staying with adults they've known for some time, in favor of placing a child with anyone of the same or a similar race.

"No other federal law that is triggered by a child's biological eligibility for tribal membership," Sandefur said. "Every other Indian law on the books applies to a person because that person is a member of a tribe."

"Congress’s racial discrimination is ‘most evident’ in ICWA’s third placement preference … which bluntly favors any ‘Indian famil[y]’ from any of 574 tribes over any non-Indian family," a brief from the Brackeens' lawyers says.

Chad and Jennifer Brackeen's journey to the Supreme Court began when Navajo Nation sought to place their adopted son, referred to in court documents as A.L.M., with unrelated tribal members who lived in a different state.

The family to whom the Navajo Nation wished to send A.L.M. stepped back from the proceedings, and the Brackeens won custody. But their adoption saga continued after A.L.M.'s mother gave birth to his half-sister, known as Y.R.J.

The biological mother supported placement with the Brackeens. But Navajo Nation sought to place Y.R.J., according to the Brackeens' lawyers, "in another state hundreds of miles away with either a great-aunt or an unrelated Navajo couple."

That case is still in a state court in Texas. But the Brackeens' lawyers say the result of their Supreme Court case, which stemmed from their fight to keep A.L.M., will likely decide the result of Y.R.J.'s case and thus the future of their family.

"Our children are young, our oldest is 13, the baby sister is 4 and a half. So, to some degree, only the oldest are fully aware of what we're going through," Chad Brackeen told Fox News Digital. "And it's our responsibility to sort of shield our children at this point of the uncertainty, that she could ultimately be taken, ripped from our home and moved states away."

Another major issue Sandefur said the case could turn on is whether ICWA unconstitutionally commandeers state courts to implement federal policy.

"ICWA is the only federal law in existence that is exclusively enforced by state officials. The feds don't enforce ICWA," Sandefur said. "But our federalist system under our constitution prohibits Congress from compelling states to enforce laws against their will."

Lawyers backing top tribal leaders, however, say the consequences for Native Americans could go far beyond adoption disputes if the justices rule against them.

Kate Fort, the director for the Indian Law Clinic at Michigan State University, called the case a "facial attack on tribal sovereignty." She also said it could "lead to a fundamental re-understanding of how Congress can or cannot pass laws for tribes."

Fort said other litigants suing over an alleged gambling monopoly for Native Americans in Washington state are already mimicking the arguments used in the Brackeen case.

Oral arguments are scheduled for Wednesday, with an extended hearing set to last nearly two hours due to the number of parties.

Unlike many politicized cases, the court may not split directly along ideological lines. Tribal law is a subject on which the justices at times may form unusual alliances to decide a case.

"A lot of people are particularly interested in how Justice Gorsuch is going to look at this case, because he has a reputation for being very sensitive to… Indian law issues," Sandefur said.

Boosted by Twitter drama, Mastodon reaches 1 million active monthly users



Kyle Wiggers
Mon, November 7, 2022 

Mastodon, the decentralized social network that's increasingly being positioned as an alternative to Twitter, has eclipsed 1 million active monthly users. That's according to CEO and lead developer Eugen Rochko, who revealed the milestone in a post on Monday morning.

Germany-based Mastodon has experienced rapid growth since Elon Musk's takeover of Twitter, with nearly half a million users joining the network since October 27. While a fraction of the size of Twitter's 238 million daily active users, Mastodon's user base remains on a steep upward trajectory, growing from 60-80 new user registrations per hour prior to October 27 to thousands of registrations per hour today.

Twitter's controversial new ownership -- and recent product changes -- have supercharged Mastodon's expansion. Some users say that they were inspired to switch to Mastodon over to concerns about how Twitter’s functionality may change under Musk’s control, while others joined as a form of protest against Twitter's new paid verification scheme and Musk's heavy-handed approach to moderating certain forms of satire.

Mastodon offers an experience in many ways comparable to Twitter's, with features like hashtags, replies, bookmarking and retweet-like "boosting." But unlike Twitter, the network is ad-free and distributed across thousands of servers organized around interests and geographic regions, run largely by volunteers who join their individual systems together in a federation.


Once they sign up and pick a server via the web or a mobile client, Mastodon users can swap posts and links with others on their own server as well as users on other servers across the network. Each server can choose to limit or filter out undesirable types of content, such as harassment and gratuitous violence, while users on any server can block and report others to administrators.

Founded in 2016, Mastodon -- supported through crowdfunding and a small grant from the European Commission -- isn't governed by a central entity. No one server owner can impose their will or shut down the network; server owners can easily cut ties with any one server that embraces policies they view as too extremist. As my colleague Sarah Perez notes, the decentralized design has the added benefit of reducing the cost of overhead and making it impossible for a single entity -- like Elon Musk -- to acquire.

Twenty-five-year-old Rochko is the project's only full-time employee, programming at his home in Germany on a modest €2,400 ($2,394.96) monthly salary. He's been working 12- to 14-hour days to keep up with the influx in demand, he noted in a recent post, purchasing more powerful hardware to upgrade Mastodon’s database server.

Thousands Have Joined Mastodon Since Twitter Changed Hands. Its Founder Has a Vision for Democratizing Social Media

Billy Perrigo
Sun, November 6, 2022 

Eugen Rochko, founder of Mastodon 

Credit - Courtesy of Eugen Rochko/Mastodon

As Twitter changed hands at the end of October, another very similar social media site was experiencing something of an influx.

Mastodon, a decentralized microblogging site named after an extinct type of mammoth, recorded 120,000 new users in the four days following billionaire Elon Musk’s acquisition of Twitter, its German founder Eugen Rochko tells TIME. Many of them were Twitter users seeking a new place to call their online home.

Read More: Deleting Twitter After Elon Musk’s Takeover? Try These Alternatives

Those users, whether they knew it or not, were following in the footsteps of Rochko, 29, who began coding Mastodon in 2016 after becoming disillusioned with Twitter. “I was thinking that being able to express myself online to my friends through short messages was very important to me, important also to the world, and that maybe it should not be in the hands of a single corporation,” Rochko says. “It was generally related to a feeling of distrust of the top down control that Twitter exercised.”

Mastodon, which proudly proclaims it is “not for sale” and has around 4.5 million user accounts, is pretty similar to Twitter, once users get past the complicated sign-up process. The main difference is that it’s not one cohesive platform, but actually a collection of different, independently-run and self-funded servers. Users on different servers can still communicate with each other, but anybody can set up their own server, and set their own rules for discussion. Mastodon is a crowdfunded nonprofit, which funds the full-time work of Rochko—its sole employee—and several popular servers.

The platform doesn’t have the power to force server owners to do anything—even comply with basic content moderation standards. That sounds like a recipe for an online haven for far-right trolls. But in practice, many of Mastodon’s servers have stricter rules than Twitter, Rochko says. When hate-speech servers do appear, other servers can band together to block them, essentially ostracizing them from the majority of the platform. “I guess you could call it the democratic process,” Rochko says.
More from TIME

The recent influx from Twitter, Rochko says, has been a vindication. “It is a very positive thing to find that your work is finally being appreciated and respected and more widely known,” he says. “I have been working very, very hard to push the idea that there is a better way to do social media than what the commercial companies like Twitter and Facebook allow.”

TIME spoke with Rochko on Oct. 31.

This interview has been condensed and edited for clarity.

What do you think of what Elon Musk is doing at Twitter?

I don’t know. The man is not entirely comprehensible. I don’t agree with a lot of his behaviors and his decision-making. I think that buying Twitter was an impulse decision that he soon regretted. And that he basically got himself into a situation that kind of forced him to commit to the deal. And now he’s in it, and he has to deal with the fallout.

I specifically disagree with his stance on free speech, because I think that it depends on your interpretation of what free speech means. If you allow the most intolerant voices to be as loud as they want to, you’re going to shut down voices of different opinions as well. So allowing free speech by just allowing all speech is not actually leading to free speech, it just leads to a cesspit of hate.

I think that is a very uniquely American idea of creating this marketplace of ideas where you can say anything you want completely without limits. It is very foreign to the German mindset where we, in our Constitution, our number one priority is maintaining human dignity. And so, hate speech is not part of the German concept of free speech, for example. So I think that when Elon Musk says that everything’s gonna be allowed, or whatever, I generally disagree with that.

How do you ensure on Mastodon, given that it’s decentralized and you don’t have the power to ban users, that the space is welcoming and safe?

Well, this is the kind of strange dichotomy of how it’s turned out. On the one hand, the technology itself is what allows basically anyone to host their own independent social media server, and to basically be able to do anything they want with it. There is no way for Mastodon, the company, or anyone really—except the normal law enforcement procedures—to really go after anyone specifically running a Mastodon server. The way that you would shut down a normal web site is how you would shut down a Mastodon server, there’s no difference there. So on that end, it kind of turns out to be the ultimate free speech platform. But obviously that’s basically just a side effect of creating a tool that can be used by anyone. It’s kind of like cars. Cars are used by everyone, even bad people, even for bad purposes, there’s nothing you can do about it, because the tool is out there. However, I think that the differentiating factor to something like Twitter or Facebook, is that on Mastodon, when you host your own server, you can also decide what rules you want to enforce on that server, which allows communities to create safer spaces than they could otherwise have on these large platforms that are interested in serving as many people as possible, perhaps driving engagement up on purpose to increase time people spend on the web.

You can have communities that have much stricter rules than Twitter has. And in practice, a lot of them are [stricter]. And this is part of where, again, the technology intersects with guidance or leadership from Mastodon the company. I think that, through the way that we communicate publicly, we have avoided attracting a crowd of the kind of people who you would find on Parler or Gab, or whatever other internet hate forums. Instead we’ve attracted the kind of people who would moderate against hate speech when running their own servers. Additionally, we also act as a guide for anyone who wants to join. Because on our website, and our apps, we provide a default list of curated servers that people can make accounts on. And through that, we make sure that we curate the list in such a way that any server that wants to be promoted by us has to agree to a certain basic set of rules, one of which is that no hate speech is allowed, no sexism, no racism, no homophobia, or transphobia. And through that, we ensure that the association between Mastodon, the brand, and the experience that people want is that of a much safer space than something like Twitter.

But what happens if hateful people do set up a server?

Well, obviously, they don’t get promoted on our “Join Mastodon” website or in our app. So whatever they do, they do on their own and completely separately, and the other administrators that run their own Mastodon servers, when they find out that there’s a new hate speech server, they may decide that they don’t want to receive any messages from the server and block it on their end. Through, I guess you could call it the democratic process, the hateful server can get ostracized or can get split off into basically, a little echo chamber, which is, I guess, no better or worse than them being in some other echo chamber. The internet is full of spam. It’s full of abuse, of course. Mastodon provides the facilities necessary to deal with unwanted content, both on the user end and on the operator end.

What made you want to go into building a service like this back in 2016?

I remember that I was just not very happy with Twitter, and I was worried where it was going to go from there. Something very questionable was in its future. That got me thinking that, you know, being able to express myself online to my friends through short messages was actually very important to me, important also to the world, and that maybe it should not be in the hands of a single corporation that can just do whatever it wants with it. I started working on my own thing. I called it Mastodon because I’m not good at naming things. I just chose whatever came to my mind at the time. There was obviously no ambition of going big with it at the time.

It must feel pretty special to see something that you made grow from nothing to where it is now.

Indeed, it is. It is a very positive thing to find that your work is finally being appreciated and respected and more widely known. I’ve been fighting for this for a long time, I started working on Mastodon in 2016, back then I had no ambitions of it going far at all. It was very much a hobbyist project at the start, then when I launched publicly it seemed to strike a chord with at least the tech community and that’s when I got the original Patreon supporters that allowed me to take on this job full time. And from then on I have been working very, very hard to make this platform as accessible and as easy to use for everyone as possible. And to push the idea forward, that there is a better way to do social media than what the commercial companies like Twitter and Facebook allow.

RUN PIEPER RUN

An 18-year-old sex trafficking victim 

Teen who killed rapist may face prison after leaving shelter

DAVID PITT
Mon, November 7, 2022 

DES MOINES, Iowa (AP) — An 18-year-old sex trafficking victim who killed her rapist could be sent to prison after she walked away from an Iowa women’s shelter where she was serving probation following her conviction for manslaughter.

An arrest warrant was issued for Pieper Lewis, who was seen walking out of the Fresh Start Women’s Center in Des Moines shortly after 6:15 a.m. Friday, according to a report filed with the court by a probation officer and the shelter's residential supervisor. The report said Lewis cut off the GPS monitor she was ordered to wear as part of her sentence and then left the facility.

Iowa Department of Corrections spokesman Nick Crawford said Lewis had not been located as of Monday afternoon.

Des Moines Police spokesman Paul Parizek said police were notified by state corrections officials that Lewis had walked away from the shelter, and information was broadcast to officers to watch for her. He said she will be taken into custody if found and turned over to corrections officials.

Lewis’ public defense attorney did not immediately respond Monday to messages.

Polk County Judge David Porter sentenced Lewis in September to probation for five years to be served at the women's shelter. He also gave her a deferred judgement, which meant her conviction would be expunged from her record if she completed the requirements of her probation. Porter warned Lewis at her sentencing hearing that by affording her an opportunity to avoid prison he was giving her a second chance. "You don’t get a third,” he said.

Lewis had faced a 20-year prison sentence after pleading guilty last year to involuntary manslaughter and willful injury in the June 2020 killing of 37-year-old Zachary Brooks, a married father of two. Lewis was 15 when she stabbed Brooks more than 30 times in a Des Moines apartment.

Corrections officials have asked the court to hold a hearing on their request to revoke her probation and deferred judgment and send her to prison.

Lewis has said that she was trafficked against her will to Brooks for sex multiple times and stabbed him in a fit of rage after he forced her to have sex with him again. Police and prosecutors did not dispute that Lewis was sexually assaulted and trafficked. The man she accused of forcing her to have sex with men, including Brooks, has never been charged.

Court documents indicate Lewis was allowed to leave the women's shelter to work at a local pizza restaurant. However, the documents showed, since Oct. 13 seven incidents were noted in which she did not promptly return to the shelter from work, a violation of shelter rules. The filings indicate authorities were keeping a close eye on her movements through the GPS monitor. Other violations also were noted, including an unauthorized meeting with someone she had dated in high school.

The 48-bed shelter is in a neighborhood northwest of downtown Des Moines. It is operated by the Department of Corrections for women on parole, work release or on pretrial release.

Porter also had ordered Lewis to pay $150,000 restitution to Brooks' estate, a move many people found to be outrageous. Porter said Iowa law required the restitution. Court records show Lewis' lawyer has asked the judge to reconsider and Porter ordered lawyers to file briefs on the issue by Nov. 10. He indicated he would release a decision within 30 days.

Lewis' public defense lawyer Matthew Sheeley wrote in a document filed in September after Lewis' sentencing hearing that her 28-year-old sex-trafficker put a knife to her neck and forced her to go with Zachary Brooks "to ‘turn a trick’ for $50 worth of weed.” He said the seriousness of her offense should be diminished by the fact that Brooks raped her before she stabbed him.

Sheeley asked Porter to amend his judgment and find that the restitution order is excessive and violates her constitutional rights.

A GoFundMe campaign started by a high school teacher who taught Lewis has raised over $560,000. No new donations were being accepted, according to the site.

The teacher, Leland Schipper, told The Des Moines Register that he has not been in contact with Lewis since her sentencing in September and that he is heartbroken that she has left the shelter and is concerned about her safety. He said the money remains with the GoFundMe organization and he and Lewis do not have access to it.

Court records indicate the restitution has not yet been paid.

The Associated Press does not typically name victims of sexual assault, but Lewis agreed to have her name used previously in stories about her case.

Fate of management at Japan's Toshiba a cause of friction for bidders and banks, sources say


The logo of Toshiba Corp is displayed atop of the company's 

facility building in Kawasaki, Japan

Sun, November 6, 2022 
By Mayu Sakoda, Makiko Yamazaki and Takaya Yamaguchi

TOKYO (Reuters) - Disagreement over whether to keep Toshiba Corp's management following a potential buyout caused friction between two of its suitors and is now stoking concern among banks, sources said, further complicating an already uncertain process.

Japan Industrial Partners, the private equity firm since selected by Toshiba as a preferred bidder, originally teamed up with state-backed fund Japan Investment Corp in a first round of bidding earlier this year.

But the two parted ways for the second round. Differences over JIP's plan to retain Toshiba CEO Taro Shimada and his team were a source of friction between the two bidders, according to two sources familiar with the talks.

JIP's plan has since raised alarm among some of Japan's big banks, whose funding would be critical to financing a buyout of the $15 billion company, according to the two sources familiar with the talks and another person.

Some of those eyeing Toshiba are concerned that current management could impede the kind of sweeping reorganisation necessary to put it on the road to recovery, three of the sources said.

All of the sources declined to be identified because the information is confidential.

A representative for JIP was not immediately available for comment. Toshiba and state-backed JIC declined to comment.

The outcome of any deal could have far-reaching implications for Toshiba's 116,000 employees and national security, given that the chips-to-nuclear conglomerate also makes defence equipment.

Once a giant of Japanese manufacturing, Toshiba has lurched from crisis to crisis since a 2015 accounting scandal. It has been weakened by years of discord between management and major shareholders, many of them foreign activists seen as keen for a buyout.

Despite being selected as preferred bidder, JIP has struggled to secure enough equity commitments from potential partners, sources have said. It now looks set to miss a Monday deadline to deliver a firm proposal that includes letters of commitment from banks, sources have said.

State-backed JIC, which has been in talks with U.S. private equity fund Bain Capital and north Asia fund MBK Partners to form a separate consortium, is also preparing to bid, two of the sources said.

The timing of that bid was unclear, although the sources said it was unlikely to submit a binding proposal by Monday, which would have allowed it to pip its former partner to the post.

Both Bain and MBK declined to comment.

JIP, which previously bought out Olympus Corp's camera business and Sony Group Corp's laptop business, will continue to try to secure equity and financing commitments after the deadline, two of the sources said.

JIP has invited a number of domestic companies, including financial services firm Orix Corp and utility Chubu Electric Power Co Inc to join its consortium.

Toshiba's Shimada told the Wall Street Journal in June he wanted any buyer to keep the conglomerate in one piece as he aims to promote innovation at the 147-year-old company.

State-backed JIC is 96% owned by the Japanese government. The trade ministry has said the fund cannot spend taxpayer money on a deal just to take a company private and make things easier for management. Any investment would have to fulfil policy goals such as promoting restructuring, it has said.

JIC hopes to evaluate Toshiba's businesses in more detail, including the impact of slumping global semiconductor demand on the value of Toshiba's 40.6% stake in flash memory chip maker Kioxia Holdings Corp, one of the sources said.

In late October, JIC expanded the size of its buyout fund to 900 billion yen ($6.11 billion) from 200 billion yen. Two of the sources said the expansion was not just for a Toshiba buyout but also aimed at other deals.

Shares of Toshiba were down 0.6% in early afternoon trade in Tokyo, underperforming a 1.3% rise in the Nikkei 225 index.

(Reporting by Mayu Sakoda, Makiko Yamazaki and Takaya Yamaguchi; Additional reporting by Kane Wu in Hong Kong; Editing by David Dolan and Stephen Coates)

Buyout fund JIP submits $15 billion Toshiba bid without bank backing, Nikkei says


Toshiba Corp's annual general meeting with its shareholders in Tokyo

Mon, November 7, 2022 
By Kantaro Komiya and Makiko Yamazaki

TOKYO (Reuters) -Private equity fund Japan Industrial Partners has submitted a bid to buy Toshiba Corp for around $15 billion that lacks key commitments from banks, the Nikkei newspaper said on Monday, raising questions about whether the offer can succeed.

JIP's proposal, which includes more than ten investors such as utility Chubu Electric Power Co Inc and financial services group Orix Corp, is seen totalling around 2.2 trillion yen ($15 billion), with about 1 trillion yen of that coming from the investors, the Nikkei said.

But the proposal appears not to have included commitment letters from banks, the newspaper said, adding the fund was aiming to pull together financing by the end of this month if Toshiba accepted the offer.

JIP, previously selected by Toshiba as the preferred bidder, was widely expected not to deliver a firm proposal with banks' commitments in time for a Monday deadline it had received from the company.

JIP's plan to allow Toshiba's current management to stay on after a buyout had raised alarm among some of Japan's big banks, whose funding is seen as critical to financing the deal, sources have said.

JIP, Chubu Electric and Orix will each invest 100 billion yen, the paper said, without saying where it got the information. A number of overseas funds opted not to join the proposal due to expectations for low returns, it said.

A Toshiba representative declined to comment, saying the company could not "answer information about candidates, including co-investors, as it may undermine fair process".

Investor focus could now turn to another potential bidder, state-backed fund JIC, which sources have said is also preparing a bid. The fund has been in talks with U.S. private equity fund Bain Capital and north Asia fund MBK Partners to form a separate consortium, sources have said.

Private equity firm JIP and state-backed JIC had previously teamed up in a first-round of bidding for Toshiba earlier this year but then they parted ways for the second round.

Differences over JIP's plan to retain Toshiba's management were a source of friction between the two, Reuters has reported.

($1 = 146.5400 yen)

(Reporting by Kantaro Komiya and Makiko Yamazaki; Writing by David Dolan; Editing by David Goodman and Bernadette Baum)

Ahrens: Christian nationalism isn't Christianity. It's spewing hate in 'the name of Jesus'

Tim Ahrens
Mon, November 7, 2022 
Tim Ahrens is the senior minister at First Congregational United Church of Christ in Downtown Columbus.

Supporters of then-President Donald Trump pray outside the U.S. Capitol on Jan. 6, 2021, in Washington, DC.

A growing number of people have lost track of Christian faith and values and replaced them with a devastatingly corrupt and disturbed idea: Christian nationalism.

Let’s look more closely.

In the name of patriotism, a frightening movement of Christian nationalists has gained strength and now big money is behind them. Michael Flynn, Franklin Graham, Tony Perkins and others have taken their show on the road with right-wing politicians claiming their view of Christian faith combined with their views of American politics are the right and only view.

Keeping the faith: Without truly representative democracy, all communities are less safe

Let’s be clear. Patriotism is the love of country.

Patriotism is good because all of God’s creation is good and patriotism helps us appreciate our particular place in it.

Our affection and loyalty to a specific part of God’s creation helps us do the good work of cultivating and improving the part we happen to live in. As people of faith, we can and should love the United States — which also means working to improve our country by holding it up for critique and fighting for justice when it errs.

More:Marjorie Taylor Greene, other conservatives lean into Christian nationalism. What is it?

More:Opinion: 'Religious freedom' should not justify intolerance

Nationalism is not patriotism.

Nationalism is very different. Nationalism is an argument about how to define our country. In an article in the evangelical magazine, Christianity Today, Paul Miller defines nationalism as grounded in the belief that humanity "is divisible into mutually distinct, internally coherent cultural groups which are defined by shared traits like language, religion, ethnicity, or culture.”

Nationalists believe that these groups should each have their own governments; that governments should promote and protect their nation’s cultural identity and that sovereign national groups provide meaning and purpose for human beings.

More:How to submit guest opinion columns to the Columbus Dispatch

Christian nationalism assert that America is and must always remain a “Christian nation.” This is not merely their observation about American history. They present this as a prescriptive program for what America must continue to be in the future.

Scholars like Samuel Huntington have argued that America is defined by its “Anglo Protestant” past and that we will lose our identity and our freedom if we do not preserve our cultural inheritance.

More:Michael Flynn is wrong. Christians shouldn't mandate one religion for everyone in America.

Christian nationalists falsely teach that there is no separation of church and state — and that conservative Christians should seize complete power by any means necessary.

"I am being attacked by the godless left because I said I’m a proud Christian Nationalist," Rep. Marjorie Taylor Greene, R-Ga., wrote on Twitter on July 25. "The left has shown us exactly who they are. They hate America, they hate God, and they hate us."

Let’s be clear, Christian nationalism is not Christianity.

Recently, Episcopal Church Presiding Bishop Michael Curry said, "If you look at the complex of white Christian nationalism as an ideology and you lay it alongside Jesus of Nazareth, we are not even talking about the same thing."

Christianity is grounded in Christian scriptures where Jesus teaches love, peace, unity and truth. Christian nationalism preaches hatred, violence, separation, and disinformation.

Christian nationalism is the single biggest threat to both democracy and the Christian faith.

With hundreds of far-right political candidates using Christ's name to deny election results, demonize their opponents, and spread dangerous conspiracy theories, all with the blessing of pastors and televangelists, the name of Jesus is disparaged and mockery is made of true Christians.

Here is a truly pressing concern.

Christian nationalists don’t call themselves this. They call themselves “true Christians.” They are not. They are nationalists who wrap themselves in pseudo-Christian language.

A man holds a Bible as Trump supporters gather outside the Capitol in Washington. The Christian imagery and rhetoric on view during the Jan. 6 Capitol insurrection are sparking renewed debate about the societal effects of melding Christian faith with an exclusionary breed of nationalism.

More:Christian nationalism is a threat, and not just from Capitol attackers invoking Jesus

Like wolves in sheep skins, they hide behind their true purpose, which is bigotry, racism, separation of people and our nation — all in the name of Jesus.

Jesus would never approve of this. He would call them what they are — false prophets and blasphemers of our faith. More clearly, as in Matthew 23:17, Jesus would call them “Blind fools!”

Let’s join with Jesus and call Christian nationalists what they are — destroyers of a great faith and a great nation. And that has nothing to do with either democracy or Jesus Christ.

This article originally appeared on The Columbus Dispatch: Tim Ahrens: Democracy, Christianity threatened by Christian nationalism

The Christian Nationalist Forces That Terrorized Me as a Child Have Grown Only More Powerful


Silas House
Mon, November 7, 2022 


A noose is seen on makeshift gallows as supporters of US President Donald Trump gather on the West side of the US Capitol in Washington DC on January 6, 2021. - Donald Trump's supporters stormed a session of Congress held today, January 6, to certify Joe Biden's election win, triggering unprecedented chaos and violence 

Credit - Andrew CABALLERO-REYNOLDS-AFP

I was raised in a church of terrorists. The preacher pounded on the lectern while he boomed that all queers deserved to die, that mixed marriages were going to lead to the downfall of “our way of life.” This was the 1980s, when women’s rights were being discussed much more broadly but according to him, God dictated that women were inferior beings to men. He railed against the separation of church and state, assuring us that the Founding Fathers had intended this to be a Christian nation. We were right and holy; the rest of the world was evil and against us. Worst of all, the congregation applauded and hollered “Amen!” in response.

Today, members of Congress and rising Republican stars are the ones who terrorize LGBTQ children and anyone who does not follow their doctrines. These are not just fringe politicians and candidates; Christian Nationalism, the belief that the American government should be defined solely by Christianity, is now firmly entrenched within much of the GOP. This label does not apply to everyone who goes to a Christian or even a fundamentalist church. However, a survey conducted last year by the Pew Research Center, found that 45% of Americans believe strongly that the United States should be a Christian nation. Recent decisions from a Supreme Court stacked by conservative nominees have stripped women of autonomy even while they’ve reinstated the right to pray at public school functions. The way of thinking that terrified me as a child is now being embraced by the Republican Party.


I was certainly terrorized by the church’s teachings and actions. We were taught that dancing or listening to certain music would lead us to sex or Satan, if not both. Our congregation celebrated Halloween by restricting costumes to Biblical figures and hosting “Hell Houses,” in which scenes of horror involved people writhing and screaming as they burned in a lake of fire due to premarital sex, infidelity or being gay. We were constantly reminded that the reason to follow the church’s rules was the threat of eternal damnation. It wasn’t enough for us to abide by them; we were also charged to evangelize and openly condemn anyone who didn’t live by our standards. If we didn’t work hard enough to be holy the devil would surely overwhelm us.

One night when I was eleven, a woman convulsed on the church floor, crying out gutturally. She raked her fingernails down her own face. The preacher anointed her head with oil, causing her to twist and squeal. He proclaimed that her demon had been cast out. I immediately worried the evil spirit had slithered into me. I knew by then that I was gay and for that alone I’d surely be left behind when everyone I knew was whisked away in the Rapture, God’s chosen people disappearing “in the twinkling of an eye.” Although I felt tremendous love in that church I also realized how quickly that love would be extinguished if they knew who I really was. They believed that shunning was an effective tool in turning people to their way of thinking and they would have had no trouble excommunicating me as quickly as striking a match. I had heard them talk about the ways they’d rather their own children be dead than gay. Their solution to the AIDS crisis was to round up all the gay men up and leave them to die on an island. To many of them, killing someone with such a reprobate mind was justifiable by God’s laws.

Over the last few months, several preachers across the country have called for the executions of LGBTQ people. This summer, thirty-one members of the Patriot Front were arrested in Iowa before they could invade a Pride gathering shortly after a preacher there said from the pulpit: “God told the nation that he ruled…Put all queers to death.” Similar sermons have recently made news for being preached in Tennessee, Texas and Arizona. In North Carolina Lt. Governor and pastor Mark Robinson has said that being gay or transgender is “filth,” “garbage” and “perversion.” He is currently a popular choice to run on the Republican ticket for the governor of North Carolina.

In August conservatives gave a raucous welcome at CPAC for Viktor Orbán, the autocratic leader of Hungary who is opposed to mixed race relationships and calls for the global spread of Christian Nationalism. Texas Lieutenant Governor Dan Patrick told the CPAC crowd God “wrote the Constitution.” Senators such as Josh Hawley and Congress members like Marjorie Taylor Greene and Lauren Boebert routinely call for an end to separation of church and state and claim Christianity is under attack in the very country where it should be the rule of law, a rhetoric that was repeated at the January 6th insurrection.

As I watched the storming of the Capitol in horror I saw the Christian Nationalism of the outsider church I grew up in on display for the whole world to see. Insurrectionists carried flags reading “Jesus is My Savior, Trump is My President” and wrote “In God We Trust” on a set of gallows erected at the Capitol, clearly stating their belief that Christ has sanctioned the use of righteous violence if the government refuses to bend to their will. Once they had broken into the Senate chambers a group of them cursed and yelled but then bowed their heads as the self-described shaman led them in a prayer thanking Jesus for allowing them to “get rid of the…traitors within our government.” In the hallways their comrades smeared their own feces on the walls. I saw the faces of church members from my past in the self-assured looks of the rioters. I read the slogans preached from my childhood pulpit on the banners and signs they carried.

I am terrified at the rise of Christian Nationalism because I have experienced it up close and personal. Violence was used against me and justified by the Bible. In high school, after a fist fight where I was forced to defend myself after a boy punched me in the mouth “for being a faggot” he defended himself to the principal by citing Scripture. When a family member fired a shotgun at me six times while I ran away, begging him to stop, he later claimed that he was “just trying to scare me straight.” I’ve seen neighbors and family members deeply damaged by the Christian extremism in the churches of America. If Christian Nationalists gain control we will be a nation run by people who apply their judgement to others even while they give themselves passes to participate in many of the archaic rules found there. It will be a country where women, people of color, LGBTQ people, and people of other faiths will be stripped of their rights in laws justified by scripture.

Somehow, I have held onto my faith and cling to a congregation that focuses on being of service instead of judging others. But I have rejected most of the teachings of my childhood. When I was growing up we called ourselves evangelicals. A beautiful word from the Greek euangelion, which means “the good news” or “the gospel.” There are many evangelical people left in the U.S. who are not Christian Nationalists. But many have become radicalized, and they believe that God is not only firmly on their side but should also be in control of the government. They will not back down. They’ll never stop because they think they are doing God’s bidding. They believe they are God’s warriors.