It’s possible that I shall make an ass of myself. But in that case one can always get out of it with a little dialectic. I have, of course, so worded my proposition as to be right either way (K.Marx, Letter to F.Engels on the Indian Mutiny)
Wednesday, July 17, 2024
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A progressive star known for guaranteed income program as young mayor runs for California office
Michael Tubbs is running for lieutenant governor of California, returning to politics four years after voters in his Central Valley hometown ousted him as one of the country's youngest mayors following his reboot of guaranteed income programs for the poor that made him a star.
By ADAM BEAM Associated Press
JULY 17, 2024 —
SACRAMENTO, Calif. — Michael Tubbs is running for lieutenant governor of California, returning to politics four years after voters in his Central Valley hometown ousted him as one of the country's youngest mayors following his reboot of guaranteed income programs for the poor that made him a star.
The 2026 campaign, announced Wednesday, offers something of a soft landing spot for Tubbs as it will give him experience running a statewide campaign for an office that gets little public attention and is mostly ceremonial. The main job is to fill in whenever the governor is out of state, and the only real power comes with sitting on the University of California and California State University boards of regents.
However Tubbs sees opportunities in the office similar to those he had during his stint as the mayor of Stockton, where he melded the power of his personal story with ambitious plans for the oft-forgotten city, becoming a rising figure among state Democrats who were searching for inspiration after Republican Donald Trump was elected president in 2016.
''Oftentimes it's not about the formal role or statutory authority of a position, but it's really about the leader in that position ... and how they're able to use that position to get things done and to make it big or to make it meaningful for the people they want to serve,'' Tubbs said.
Raised by a single mother with a father in prison, Tubbs graduated from Stanford and interned in the Obama White House before winning election as the first Black mayor of Stockton in 2016 when he was just 26 years old.
His biggest splash was securing funding from Silicon Valley for a guaranteed income program that paid poor people $500 a month with no restrictions on how they could spend the money. The program, a relaunch of an old idea, prompted dozens of similar programs across the country, culminating with the California Legislature setting aside $35 million for guaranteed income programs benefitting pregnant people and former foster children.
But Tubbs' celebrity status turned off some voters in Stockton, and he lost his reelection bid in 2020 to Republican Kevin Lincoln, a little-known figure at the time
Since then, Tubbs has followed a familiar script for political rehabilitation. He acted as an unpaid advisor to Democratic California Gov. Gavin Newsom and published a memoir while working with a coalition he founded to help launch guaranteed income programs across the country.
For Tubbs to complete the comeback and win office, he will have to best some formidable candidates with lots of experience in Sacramento, including Democrats Fiona Ma, who is finishing up two terms as state treasurer, and state Sen. Steven Bradford, known for pushing California closer to becoming the first state to offer reparations for slavery.
''I have a track record of doing hard things,'' Tubbs said. ''When we think of sort of the problems that have been caused by Sacramento or attempted to be solved by Sacramento, I'm just not convinced those same problems can be solved by people who've spent decades in Sacramento.''
Lieutenant governor has been a stepping stone to the governor's office for some, including Newsom, who was lieutenant governor for eight years before getting elected to his current position in 2018. In the 1990s, Democrat Gray Davis also occupied the post before winning the state's top job, and current Lt. Gov. Eleni Kounalakis is a strong contender in a field of candidates to replace Newsom in the 2026 election.
Tubbs said he views the job as important in its own right. But he still has his eyes on the future.
''My hope is to do such a great job ... that in four to eight years, after the job, I have all types of options for things to do,'' he said.
GREENS/EFA WELCOMES ECJ RULING ON ACCESS TO COVID VACCINE CONTRACTS
PRESS RELEASE | 17.07.2024 Today, the European Court of Justice (ECJ) issued its ruling on the lawsuit filed by five Greens/EFA MEPs requesting access to documents related to the joint purchases of Covid vaccines. The lawsuit was filed in 2021 following the Commission's repeated refusal to provide the public with anything but heavily redacted versions of the Covid-19 vaccine purchase agreements arguing with commercial confidentiality. The Greens/EFA Group welcome that today’s ruling clarified that the Commission unduly refused access to certain elements in the contracts. The Court annulled the Commission’s decision and found that the Commission did not demonstrate sufficiently inter alia why access to key provisions such as on indemnification for any vaccine-related damages and on donations and resales of vaccines would undermine commercial interests.
Kim van Sparrentak, one of the Greens/EFA MEP who filed the lawsuit, comments:
“We are happy the court ruled the Commission did not give sufficiently wide access to the purchase agreements. In its ruling today, the ECJ acknowledged the importance of proper justifications with regard to any claims on undermining commercial confidence. The Commission’s automatism to claim confidentiality for just about everything relevant in the contracts was rejected. Any such claims can and should only be made where it can be demonstrated that public access could actually and specifically undermine those commercial interests.
“It is important that the court has confirmed the importance of transparency as it is fundamental in the fight against vaccine scepticism and citizens' mistrust of public institutions. This ruling is significant for the future, as the Commission is expected to undertake more joint procurements in areas like health and defence. The new Commission must now adapt their handling of access to documents requests to be in line with today’s ruling.”
More: The court case was initiated by Greens/EFA MEPs Kim van Sparrentak, Tilly Metz, Jutta Paulus, Margrete Auken and Michele Rivasi.
The core argument of the case centres on the Commission's repeated refusal to provide Members of Parliament with anything but heavily redacted and thus largely incomprehensible versions of the Covid-19 vaccine purchase agreements. Greens/EFA demanded information inter alia about the price of the vaccine’s unit, advance payments, liability for side effects and indemnification, resale and donations, challenging commercial confidentiality for those or arguing with overriding public interest. During the pandemic, transparency on contracts had been asked by Parliament as a whole, but only the members of the Greens/EFA took the Commission to court over this.
Touted as Europe’s largest infrastructure project, the Grand Paris Express promises better connectivity and improved public transport for the French capital. However, for Roma squatters and slum residents, the colossal project has meant forced evictions and further exclusion from society. With the Paris Olympics right around the corner, the trend has only worsened.
One morning in April 2016, 27 private security agents arrived on the grounds of a rundown warehouse in Vitry-sur-Seine, a Parisian suburb, to evict the 29 people living there. All of them were Romanian citizens of Roma ethnicity. The agents came with three dogs and no judicial mandate.
Daniel, a 25-year-old migrant, his wife, and their baby were among the residents who were told to leave the premises immediately.
The warehouse was a 20-minute walk from the centre of Vitry, and the site of a train stop on the future line 15 of the Parisian metro. Vitry is just one of 45 towns that will be served by the Grand Paris Express, the first metro line connecting all Parisian suburbs. The southern branch, where Vitry is located, is expected to be the first to open, at the end of 2025.
The warehouse belonged to real estate firm SCI Aten, whose owner had filed a request for the residents’ expulsion a week earlier. The court hearing was pushed to May, and the owner took matters into his own hands to remove the squatters. Before then, Daniel and his family had already been evacuated twice – in October and January 2015 – to make way for the metro line 15.
Tampa’s Muslims Thrive, but Political Crosscurrents Create Dilemmas
While the city’s Islamic infrastructure is dynamic, the community’s mix of progressive values and social conservatism makes it an outlier in a polarized ideological landscape
Ken ChitwoodKen Chitwood is a religion scholar and author of “The Muslims of Latin America and the Caribbean” NEW LINE MAGAZINE
“You’ve got to try The Fryer House,” Aaysha Kapila told me via the Tampa Halal Food Facebook group. “It’s new on the scene, but it’s amazing.” The “scene” in question? Tampa’s market for halal food. And The Fryer House, a food truck that opened in December 2023, is one of the newest on it, offering a fusion of Arab, Asian and American Southern fried chicken — from hot chicken sandwiches to fiery golden tenders to chicken and waffles.
Blending Palestinian spices with Japanese styles and Latin American peppers, the food truck’s owner, Ashraf “Ash” Ayyash, says his brand of “halal hot chicken” has proved a hit. While his customers come from a cross-section of Tampa society, many are Arabs and South Asian Muslims looking for a spicy, sumptuous, halal option for lunch or dinner. During Ramadan, Ayyash said, he cooked thousands of pounds of chicken. At a series of major local events during the month of fasting — Ramadan Suhoor Nights — he averaged 300 pounds per night.
Sitting underneath Ayyash’s menu with its hot, very hot and “pepper x” levels of spiciness, a slim, 30-something Palestinian American named Zyad is snacking on some of Ayyash’s specially seasoned french fries. This, he says, is one of his favorite options in Temple Terrace, a city on the northeast side of Tampa Bay and epicenter of its robust halal food scene. “There’s a Yemeni place down the road, several shawarma options, an Arab grocery store, a Turkish grocery store, bakeries, clothing stores, restaurants, food trucks. The list goes on,” he toldNew Lines.
“Tampa,” Zyad said, “is like the new Dearborn,” referring to Dearborn, Michigan, the first Arab-majority city in the U.S. and home to the largest mosque in North America.
Though there are no official statistics, estimates of Tampa’s Muslim community range between 5,000 or 6,000 in the Temple Terrace-New Tampa area alone, to upward of 36,000 or as high as 100,000 in the greater Tampa Bay area, which includes St. Petersburg and Clearwater.
Community statistics show an estimated 500,000 Muslims in Florida and over 150 mosques and Islamic centers across the state, from the Keys in the south to Pensacola on the panhandle. And they cut the cross section of Muslim-American society: Almost one-third were born in the U.S., with the remaining 69% coming from places like Pakistan and India, Egypt and Palestine, Guyana and Puerto Rico. The Tampa Bay area is home to tens of thousands of Muslims from over 80 different countries.
Especially around Busch Boulevard and 56th Street, not far from the Busch Gardens amusement park and the main campus of the University of South Florida (USF), Tampa’s Islamic infrastructure is dense, a testament to its rarely recognized, but consistently growing, Muslim community. Not only are numerous mosques and several of the nation’s premier Islamic schools in and around Temple Terrace, but there are also law offices with signs in Arabic and Urdu, numerous halal restaurants, Middle Eastern barber shops, Ramadan decor hanging in shop windows and a large halal slaughterhouse named Musa’s.
“I would estimate around 70% of the businesses in the Temple Terrace area are Muslim-owned,” said Imam Abdullah Jaber, executive director of CAIR Florida, the Sunshine State’s chapter of the Council on American-Islamic Relations, a civil liberties organization whose offices are also in Temple Terrace. “There are Muslims heading the Chamber of Commerce, professors at local universities, dentists, physicians, you name it.”
They are also shaping local, state and national elections with the growing political power that comes with such a presence. But that influence is far from monolithic: The Muslim community’s shifting political crosscurrents and fault lines mean it doesn’t align neatly with either camp in the country’s increasingly polarized landscape. “I think you can be socially conservative and yet be an advocate for social and racial justice,” Jaber toldNew Lines.
“Maybe that’s impossible with America’s current politics, but I think Tampa is leading the way here. It’s a model for American Muslim life.”
Since the early 2000s, Tampa’s Muslim community has grown around “three pillars,” Jaber said: “faith, family and finance.”
Not only do organizations like The Muslim Connection (TMC), the Islamic Community of Tampa (ICT) and the Islamic Society of Tampa Bay (ISTABA) — one of the largest mosques in the nation, founded in 2004 — strive to cultivate a welcoming space for practicing Muslims, but K-12 schools, like the Universal Academy and American Youth Academy, also attract Muslim families from across the United States looking for a place where they feel their children can receive a top-notch state education alongside learning the Quran and their family’s faith. In four Muslim schools in Tampa, there are over 2,000 students.
Every year, with the support of local business leaders and wealthy Muslim donors, ICT puts on an enormous Eid celebration at the 355-acre Florida State Fairgrounds, just east of Tampa, featuring free breakfast and attracting more than 8,000 attendees. Every Eid al-Adha, ISTABA hosts a carnival with bumper cars, a bouncy house and other rides. Meanwhile, throughout the year, Muslims are spoiled for choice at the numerous halal restaurants in town, such as at Ayyash’s Fryer House food truck. “It’s just easy to be a Muslim here,” Jaber said.
Jacqueline Fewkes, an anthropology professor at Florida Atlantic University in Boca Raton, said Tampa stands out for the extent of its Islamic infrastructure.
The Tampa Muslim community “is really vibrant,” she toldNew Lines. “They have mosques, associated schools, activist organizations, restaurants, bakeries, civil rights organizations, law offices and civic organizations, study groups for women, for singles, youth groups, socially focused resources that extend beyond the Muslim community.”
As leader of the American Mosques Project — a survey of mosques across the U.S. — Fewkes said she is impressed by how much the Tampa community has built in a relatively short amount of time. Over the past two decades, for example, Tampa went from having just a few mosques to having 36 today.
“That takes a politically grounded, locally committed community,” Fewkes said. Having studied Islamic centers, schools and organizations across the nation, Fewkes said that while a lot of attention is focused on national politics, much goes on at the local level, “in school boards and city councils.” So, when she looks at Tampa, she sees the patient work of faithful volunteers working through bureaucratic steps — zoning laws, town hall meetings, permits for basketball courts and parking lots — to make Islamic centers, schools and clinics possible.
“Town-level decisions are where real power lies,” she said. “And when I look at Tampa, I can tell the Muslim community has a definite sway.”
Dyma AbuOleim is founder and president of Tampa’s 200 Muslim Women Who Care, a Muslim women’s giving circle that brings together women with shared values to discuss and decide collectively where to make pooled gifts. She is also the mother of four teenagers and intentionally moved to Tampa because of its Islamic infrastructure.
“Especially the schools,” she toldNew Lines. “I needed Islamic schools for my kids, a place for them to learn Arabic and the culture, a place where they could take pride in their faith [and] their Jordanian and Palestinian identity.”
AbuOleim grew up in South Florida’s affluent West Palm Beach, where the Muslim community was insular, never branching beyond the community’s carefully monitored boundaries.
“I wanted our family to grow up in a place where they could live Islam out loud, and we found it in Tampa,” AbuOleim said. “There’s a real spiritual pull to Tampa, with its schools, vision and critical mass.”
Imam Derrick Peat, a 36-year-old Jamaican-born convert to Islam who grew up in Tampa and has two children, said Tampa’s Islamic infrastructure creates a real sense of “taawoun” (a collective and cooperative spirit). “Muslims of different backgrounds, it doesn’t matter — it’s all hands on deck,” he toldNew Lines.
With its people and finances, Peat believes the Tampa community is ready to take the next step, build on its foundations, and expand with more dynamic institutions and programs to further integrate Islam into American society. “I want to see Tampa recognized across the U.S. as a model for how a Muslim community can embrace integration and remain deeply in touch with its religious and cultural heritage,” he said.
Part of that involves Tampa’s Muslims flexing their political muscle. Following the example of Cuban Americans, who recognized their ability to change the outcome of state and national elections from their home base in Florida, Tampa’s Muslims want to make their community a political force.
But the comparison to Florida’s Cubans cuts both ways. With the highest concentration of Cuban Americans in the country — and with Florida’s tight margins in five of the past eight U.S. presidential elections — their influence peaks in presidential years, when candidates across the state try to curry favor with them. But over the years, Cuban-American views and values have shifted, with Cuban Americans not always voting as a political bloc and becoming more divided on policy preferences and party affiliations. Meanwhile, Cuban-American politicians have continued to prioritize their “narrow” interests over those of the broader Latino community, which has rapidly expanded around them.
As Florida’s Muslims determine their own political clout and the potential issues that pull them in various directions, the notion of a “Muslim vote” is relatively new. With the number of Muslim voters in the U.S. remaining comparatively small — constituting just 1.1% of the overall population with 3.45 million Muslims nationwide — the “Muslim vote” has really only manifested in recent elections.
Nevertheless, Muslims are highly politically engaged and likely to vote, and in a political environment where presidential elections are tight, minority constituencies become a coveted prize for any candidate.
Some credit Florida’s Muslims with making George W. Bush president in 2000. Georgetown University Professor Emeritus John Esposito explains in his book “The Future of Islam” (2013) that this support had less to do with shared values than a belief that Bush, in reaching out to Muslims with his attempts to address the Israeli-Palestinian conflict, would follow in the moderate footsteps of his father, former president George H.W. Bush, whom they also supported in the 1992 election.
Then, in a narrow election in 2011, Tampa’s Muslims helped deliver the mayor’s office to Democrat Bob Buckhorn. The community has also produced progressive independent candidates for local elections. Candidates like Ahmad Hussam Saadaldin, who stood in a special election for a Florida House seat in 2017, garnered 8.5% of the vote. Many Tampa Muslims are also involved with Emgage, a political action committee (PAC) that was formed in 2006 by two Muslim lawyers from Florida, Khurrum Wahid and Farooq Mitha, and holds sway with both Democrats and Republicans running for office. Tampa’s own, homegrown PAC — Muslims for Democracy and Fairness — has interviewed over 150 candidates in general, primary and local elections since 2018, focusing on where they stand on issues of import to the city’s Muslims.
Politically diverse, Jaber said that similar to Florida’s Cubans, the Sunshine State’s Muslims tend to be socially conservative. At the same time, he toldNew Lines, they show a strong commitment to social justice and some progressive values are deeply rooted in their religion. That means they often feel torn and not fully aligned with either major political party on the range of issues up for debate at the national and state level.
“The Muslim community’s political perspectives are multifaceted,” he said. For example, with issues like legalizing marijuana or gender identity and government support for LGBTQ+ laws in areas such as marriage or transgender access to bathrooms, the vast majority are against (68% and 79% respectively, according to CAIR Florida’s own 2023 community survey), aligning themselves firmly with the Republican voting bloc.
But for issues like civil rights, environmental concerns or reforming the criminal justice system, Muslims are more likely to align with Democrats. Most of Florida’s Muslims (74% according to CAIR data) view climate change as an urgent threat that requires immediate government action, for example.
On abortion, Muslims are more split. While Islamic tradition values unborn life, a slight majority of Muslims — alongside Jewish Americans, Catholics and the nonaffiliated — believe abortion should be legal in all or most cases, according to a 2022 Institute for Social Policy and Understanding poll. In Florida, Republicans’ extreme restrictions on abortion access saw a decline in support among the state’s Muslims, Jaber said.
Before the Gulf War (1990-91), U.S. Muslims tended to align with the Republican Party’s conservative social values and fiscal policies. In the 1990s, as anti-Muslim rhetoric increased within the party and among the U.S. public at large, there was a subtle shift toward the Democrats, but Muslims still stuck with Republicans through the 2000 election, when, according to Masood Farivar for Voice of America, “more than 70% of Muslims voted for [George W.] Bush, and most of the 50,000 Muslim votes in Florida went to the Republican candidate.” Bush won that election after a lengthy recount of the vote in Florida, where he won by the thinnest of margins — some 537 votes.
Since that election, Muslim-American voting has been decidedly more in favor of the Democratic Party. In 2004, in the aftermath of 9/11 and the war on terror, which had significant effects both abroad in Muslim-majority nations and domestically with the assault on Muslim Americans’ civil liberties, more than 9 in 10 Muslim Americans voted for Bush’s main challenger, Democrat John Kerry. Nearly the same voted for Democrat Barack Obama in 2008 and 2012 (89% and 85% respectively). But with Democratic policies not always lining up with Muslims’ more conservative social values, the landscape of Muslim political affiliation has shifted subtly over the past decade and a half — especially in Florida.
In 2016, Muslims nationwide still supported Democrat Hillary Clinton over Republican Donald Trump (78% versus 8%), the latter of whom expressed numerous Islamophobic views on the campaign trail and advocated a so-called Muslim ban, which limited travel and refugee resettlement for people from predominantly Muslim-majority countries. But a reorientation in Muslim voting was already underway — especially in Florida, where Trump garnered nearly 18% of Muslim votes. In subsequent midterm elections, Muslim Americans have continued to drift toward the GOP. AP VoteCast surveys show support for Republican candidates in the double digits — 17% in 2018 and 28% four years later. During the 2020 presidential election, Trump’s national numbers jumped to anywhere from 17%, according to CAIR exit poll surveys, to as high as 35%, according to AP VoteCast.
It is impossible to know how Muslim Americans will vote in 2024, but Jaber pointed to CAIR data that shows nearly half of Muslim voters in Florida are more likely than ever to register as independents (45%). That leaves just 38% who identify as Democrats and 11% as Republicans (the remaining 6% are categorized as “other” in the survey). The data also shows that the longer a Muslim lives in Florida, the more likely it is that they shift their political allegiance away from the Democratic Party. “Florida’s Muslims mature in their political outlook and won’t sell their souls to any particular party,” Jaber said. “The Muslim community’s allegiance is not static,” he said, “and Florida’s Muslim vote is more in play than ever before. Their loyalty to one party or the other should not be taken for granted.”
Among 26- to 35-year-olds, a slight generational divide also emerges. CAIR data shows that over half (53%) of younger Muslims in Florida identify as independents and only a quarter identify as Democrats (24%) or Republicans (23%). This tracks with national data from the Institute for Social Policy and Understanding (ISPU) in 2022, which showed that 18-to-29-year-old Muslims are more likely than all other generations to identify as independents (49%) and less likely to approve (48%) of the job President Joe Biden is doing in the White House.
According to the ISPU, the data suggests younger Muslims may “make voting decisions based more on changing policy issues and less along fixed partisan lines, opening an opportunity for both parties to win Muslim support.”
This election cycle, two hot-button topics are putting those political allegiances to the test. First, as Muslims become more vocal on issues that converge with cultural conservatives, Republicans are looking to capitalize on their growing concerns over public school education and the promotion of LGBTQ+ friendly curricula and teaching materials. The second issue is the war in Gaza. National reporting has highlighted how Muslim voters’ dissatisfaction with Democratic approaches on both fronts presents a prime opportunity for the GOP to attract Muslims and, perhaps, deliver swing states like Michigan and Florida to Trump. At the very least, it means Muslim voters across the U.S. are seriously debating who they will vote for in 2024.
Among Tampa’s Muslims, there’s a readiness to discuss the tension they feel regarding the available options. Zyad, wiping his hands on his pants after finishing Ayyash’s fries at the Fryer House food truck, put it this way: “I could see myself voting for Trump, but I could never support [Florida Gov. Ron] DeSantis.” Zyad explained. “Trump is all talk when it comes to Muslims, but DeSantis, he’s got skin in the game,” referencing unfounded claims that while the former GOP presidential candidate was stationed at Guantanamo Bay, the infamous naval detention facility in southeastern Cuba, he was involved in detainee abuse. “If Trump is elected, my fears aren’t about Trump, they’re that DeSantis will be unleashed in full force,” Zyad said.
Other Muslim voters in Tampa, however, feel differently.
“I don’t think Trump is a viable option,” said Peat, the Jamaican-born convert to Islam. But with DeSantis — whose bid for the Republican presidential nomination failed but who remains Florida’s governor until 2027 — Peat sees a silver lining. “He is someone who is defending certain parental rights and our right to have a direct role in rearing children,” Peat said. “We respect all groups, but in the charged atmosphere around LGBTQ issues, we need balance,” he said. “We don’t want anyone forced into one side or the other, especially not our children. And we think DeSantis will make space for our rights in his politics, so that our voice is respected on that issue.” According to CAIR’s data, 79% of Muslims in Florida agree with Peat and oppose conversations about gender identity in classrooms across the state.
At the same time, Muslims in Florida remain committed to criminal justice reform, environmental concerns and social justice issues, Jaber emphasized. And Chaikirah Parker, founder of the African American Muslim Alliance (AAMA) of Tampa Bay, wants to make sure that Muslims don’t get distracted by what she considers the shiny, hot-button issues of the day, but remain committed to social justice in the Tampa Bay area. “Tampa is a powerhouse Muslim community,” Parker toldNew Lines, “but when politics change, alliances can shift, and money can end up going to other causes.” Parker said she is concerned that a shift to the right would mean less attention to issues of concern for local Black Muslims.
Parker also worries that with more attention being given to Palestine and LGBTQ+ concerns this election cycle, local issues of more immediate import to Tampa’s Black Muslims will be tokenized or tossed to the wayside. Parker said Black Muslims in Tampa took to the streets to call for a cease-fire in Gaza, and many are socially conservative and feel threatened by gender identity issues being discussed in local schools. But as Parker marches in the streets with her fellow Black Muslims, she sensed feelings of frustration among those who fear their own local causes might be neglected along the way.
“What I’m hearing is that these ‘Muslim social justice issues’ are taking up all the activist space,” she said. “But people in the ’hood are concerned with things like the cost of food, education access, gangs, drug rehabilitation and prison reform.”
As political parties try to court Tampa’s Muslim voters on various issues, Parker said a lot of her work with the AAMA is making sure the issues Tampa’s Black community want to prioritize are not forgotten.
“We are concerned about injustice in Palestine,” Parker said, “but we are still fighting for better jobs, better housing, community reinvestment, teaching critical race theory, education and crime.
“I don’t want those to be token issues anymore,” she said. “I want them to be front and center.”
These tensions can put Muslim voters in an awkward position. “For Muslims in Florida, voting is always complicated,” Peat said. “Politics is a particular game, played along party lines.” He explained: “Muslims feel caught in between, supporting conservative causes and supporting racial justice movements, against anti-Muslim rhetoric but pro-life. It’s impossible with the current rhetoric, the toxic politics that make you choose red or blue.”
But this November, they must choose. And one issue, more than immigration, legalizing marijuana or culture war hot points, looms larger than all others: the war in Gaza. As reported inNew Lines, Midwestern swing states — like Wisconsin, Michigan and Pennsylvania — have become a proving ground for the Democratic Party, where “a growing Palestinian rights movement is pushing Democratic candidates to challenge their party’s unchecked support for Israel.”
So too in Florida, where Muslim community members have been unequivocal in their calls on local, statewide and national leaders to condemn the war in Gaza. And while calls against violence, the massacre of innocent children and the complicity of the U.S. in genocide in Gaza are clear across the community, USF in Tampa has been ground zero.
As college campuses around the country witnessed a surge of protests against the war, USF students were among the first wave to organize since the conflict started on Oct. 7, 2023. But then, as reported in Jewish Currents, a memo went out from the chancellor of Florida’s state university system, Ray Rodrigues, in consultation with DeSantis, announcing that schools under his jurisdiction must “deactivate” all chapters of Students for Justice in Palestine (SJP). The order “marked the first time a state official has tried to stop the pro-Palestine student group from operating,” according to Jewish Currents. In response, the SJP chapter at USF joined with its chapter at the University of Florida in Gainesville to file suit. Later, as encampments spread across U.S. university campuses in April 2024, USF’s Students for a Democratic Society chapter launched an encampment, which police in riot gear disbanded shortly thereafter by firing tear gas canisters toward protesters after declaring the demonstration an “unlawful assembly.”
For Shahd Alasaly, who teaches sociology at USF, the moment was a clarion call. Originally from Chicago, Alasaly found Tampa a tricky place to express herself politically. “I still think, in Florida, there remains a fear,” she toldNew Lines. “Even though we are a large community, Florida’s politics makes it so we are constantly negotiating our identity at some level still.” When it came to the protests, Alasaly was hoping there would be a robust conversation on campus and that the USF administration would turn to the many Palestinians, Syrians and others on the faculty and staff who have public Muslim identities.
“There are people speaking out, but I am disappointed that more are not,” she said. “Immediately after [Oct. 7], the USF president sent out a letter about antisemitism — but no one checked in with the Palestinians. Those conversations never happened,” said Alasaly. “It’s a constant struggle in Florida. We are always under pressure because of DeSantis and the politics of education in Florida. We are fighting so many battles,” she said. “I don’t know what the next election cycle will look like. I worry about it. But at this moment, if we can’t stand up for Gaza, then what do we stand up for?”
Alasaly emphasized, however, that Gaza and the politics of education are not the only issues Muslim voters in Tampa are speaking out on in 2024. Working with the refugee resettlement agency Radiant Hands Inc., Alasaly said many Muslims in the area remain keen to work with the most vulnerable in society and place a high emphasis on humanitarian aid. Radiant Hands Inc., originally founded in Gainesville to serve north-central Florida, relocated its offices to Tampa’s Temple Terrace area in 2014. In partnership with Islamic Relief USA (IRUSA) and the International Rescue Committee (IRC), Radiant Hands Inc. has helped provide reception and placement services to refugees and asylum-seekers — both Muslim and non-Muslim — from Afghanistan, Somalia, Syria, Iraq, Sudan, Ethiopia, Eritrea, Sri Lanka, Pakistan and Republic of Congo.
Radiant Hands Inc. was a 2021 grantee of 200 Muslim Women Who Care. AbuOleim toldNew Linesthe “200 Muslim women” represent the philanthropic and potential political power of Tampa’s Muslim community.
Meeting four times a year, members learn about local nonprofits. Pledging to donate $100 quarterly, they select a charity every three months, which receives a $20,000 grant. Since 2017, they’ve given $580,000 to local nonprofits working on a range of issues, from providing mobile shower services to Tampa’s unhoused population to a group facilitating exercise programs for cancer patients and the Tampa chapter of the pro-life Catholic Charities/Foundation of Life Pregnancy Centers. “Modeling ourselves on the Prophet Muhammad (peace be upon him) who was a giver of gifts,” she said, “our work is all about fulfilling our responsibility to our neighbors.”
Making a difference is also what motivated AbuOleim, who originally came to Tampa to attend university, to bring her background in philanthropy with her from South Florida. Founding the organization was part of AbuOleim’s political awakening. When Trump came into office, AbuOleim said her perspective on being Muslim changed. Having always dreamed of creating a giving circle to impact her community, Trump’s election gave her the push she needed to start it. “When Trump came, I knew we as a community had to do more,” she said. “And if we wanted to see changes, we had to take the initiative ourselves. It was time to act.” Founding the first Muslim women’s giving circle in the U.S., she insisted it was more than a group of individual philanthropists, but “a collective force for change.” AbuOleim explained, “We are democratizing philanthropy, building connections with our neighbors, and building social and financial capital to then spend on the issues we care about.”
Most recently, that has meant AbuOleim, who is Palestinian American, has been asked to speak about the war in Gaza. It is the first time, she said, she has been in a position to address humanitarian and political issues at protests and local women’s groups or rallies.
For AbuOleim, this signals a political awakening for Muslim Americans, which is taking hold in places like Tampa. “With all the connections we have, the success we’ve found, the communities we’ve built, now we are able to express our politics with a different capacity,” she said.
And now, as the 2024 election looms, the likes of AbuOleim, Jaber and Parker hope to use that capacity, the power they feel is percolating within Muslims’ present political moment. Whether it be to urge a cease-fire in Gaza, protect what they feel to be their parental rights, or push for other causes like racial justice or local reform, Tampa’s Muslims are ready to use their numbers and their know-how to get things done according to their faith-infused convictions, without fealty to any party. Now, they feel, is their chance to effect real change.
“This is our country,” AbuOleim said. “We have people power. We know the system. We’ve realized that we have a voice that matters. And now is the moment we can make a difference.”
That difference-making power, however, may be tempered by the tensions Tampa’s Muslims feel heading into November’s elections. “We have the resources — the people and finances, the maturity — to build dynamic institutions and programs to improve society for all, not just for Muslims,” CAIR’s Jaber said. “The ability is there. The potential is there. But politics is a particular game,” he said.
Muslims in Tampa won’t sell their souls to any particular party, Jaber said, but they are willing to play ball with both sides to get things done in pursuit of their priorities. He hopes Tampa becomes a model for how Muslims across the U.S. can navigate these tricky political waters.
USIP describes exclusion of women’s rights from Doha meeting as ‘compromise attempt’
THERE IS NO COMPROMISE WITH MISOGYNY & GENDER APARTHEID
The U.S. Institute for Peace (USIP) described the exclusion of women’s rights from the public agenda of the latest Doha meeting as an unnecessary concession to the Taliban. In an analysis, USIP expert Andrew Watkins explained that this omission was an attempt at compromise.
Watkins noted that the third Doha meeting did not produce decisive outcomes, aside from the “commitment of all countries to continue such meetings — still a significant agreement in the current geopolitical climate.” He also highlighted criticisms from Western donor states and human rights defenders regarding the U.N.’s inclusion of the Taliban.
“In preparations for the third gathering, the U.N. took pains to persuade the Taliban that attending was in their best interests,” Watkins said. He added that the Taliban’s demands largely reiterated their positions from the second Doha meeting. “Notably, the U.N. offered an agenda that seemed tailored to the Taliban’s interests — as well as those of neighboring states and regional powers like China and Russia,” he said.
Watkins pointed out the lack of civil society representation at the main event, especially the absence of Afghan women, which drew significant backlash. This negative publicity complicated the positions of participating Western states. He revealed that while some nations disagreed with details of the U.N.’s approach, they were willing to give the U.N. room to maneuver.
“Their complaint was structural,” Watkins wrote, citing frustrations with a lack of U.N. coordination and communication of goals and strategy. In the weeks leading up to the meeting, donor state officials expressed doubts about the U.N.’s strategic direction for this meeting format.
Less than two weeks before the third Doha meeting, a group of major donors, including the U.S., drafted a collective communique to the U.N. Although not publicly released, the leaked letter sternly criticized both the substance and planning process of the meeting. “The signatories emphasized the importance of not marginalizing Afghan civil society and noted domestic political demands to hold the Taliban accountable on human rights,” Watkins added.
According to Watkins, one Western official perceived that regional countries’ interests seemed to carry more weight in the U.N.’s decision-making than those of the largest donors supporting aid and development in Afghanistan. This letter implicitly threatened that donor states might scale down their participation in the gathering unless there was engagement with civil society.
Some U.N. officials privately noted that they intended to involve civil society similarly to the second Doha meeting, but it required careful negotiation with the Taliban to ensure their participation.
The Doha process began with a meeting in May 2023, followed by a second round in February this year. The third Doha meeting took place from June 30 to July 1, chaired by U.N. Undersecretary-General for Political Affairs Rosemary DiCarlo, unlike the previous two meetings chaired by U.N. Secretary-General António Guterres.