IVN is joined by Nate Allen, founder and Executive Director of Utah Approves, to discuss Approval Voting and his perspective on changing the incentives of our elections.
Podcast: Seeking approval in Utah


IVN is joined by Nate Allen, founder and Executive Director of Utah Approves, to discuss Approval Voting and his perspective on changing the incentives of our elections.

Margarita Moreno works at the mail room in the Phoenix campus of Keys to Change, a collaborative of 15 nonprofit organizations that serve homeless people.
Carl Steiner walked to the window of a small gray building near downtown Phoenix and gave a worker his name. He stepped away with a box and a cellphone bill.
The box is what Steiner had come for: It contained black and red Reebok sneakers to use in his new warehouse job.
Steiner doesn’t have a permanent address. His letters and packages are delivered to a mail room for homeless people in the building at the Keys to Change campus, a collaborative of 15 nonprofit organizations that serve those like him.
He and thousands of others have received mail here for years. They use the address for job applications, for medication, to receive benefits like food stamp cards and even to vote. And for 20 years, the U.S. Postal Service provided at least 20% of the mail room’s budget.
But last month, the postal service ended its support of $24,000 a year because a nearby post office is “able to fully serve the community,” a spokesperson said in a statement to ProPublica.
Unlike a standard post office, Keys to Change allows people to receive mail without a government ID, a common problem for some who are homeless.
This year, Keys to Change will spend about $117,000 to help 7,000 people get their mail. Although the cost is minimal relative to the nonprofit’s budget, it’s a “crucial part” of helping people exit homelessness, said Amy Schwabenlender, the organization’s CEO.
“It really is a priceless thing that we can offer to our clients,” Schwabenlender said.
The loss of support from the Postal Service comes at a time of uncertainty for one of Arizona’s largest nonprofit homeless services providers and similar organizations nationwide. Keys to Change says it will seek donations to keep the mail room open.
But there will be less money for such services as President Donald Trump and his administration take a very different approach to homelessness than his predecessors.
Trump is calling for large reductions to assistance grants, as well as their restructuring. More than half of Keys to Change’s funding comes from government agreements, Schwabenlender said.
The president has also issued an executive order urging cities to remove people who live outdoors by enforcing camping bans and institutionalizing those experiencing mental health or substance use disorders. The order also calls for ending support for programs that prioritize housing and services.
With funding shifting to support a more punitive approach to homelessness, even small programs like the mail room could be strained. The loss of the Postal Service’s assistance is not related to these budget cuts, but for providers it leaves one more gap to fill. Some, like Keys to Change, said they’ll be forced to do more with less federal support as demand for assistance is increasing.
Record numbers of people are looking for help. Last year, Keys to Change served 20,000 people, up from 18,000 the year before, according to the organization, which is also seeing the loss of COVID-era relief funding.
“There’s a definite air of uncertainty and fear, and that is both amongst providers and among people experiencing homelessness,” said Donald Whitehead, the executive director of the National Coalition for the Homeless, a nonprofit organization that advocates for homeless people. Whitehead expects some of the Trump administration’s changes will increase, not reduce, the number of people on the street.
Carl Steiner opens a box of shoes for a new job at a warehouse. Ash Ponders for ProPublica
First image: Moreno and Joe Medina in the mail room. Medina has worked there since 2019 and was a former Keys to Change client. Second image: Medina sorts through envelopes to find mail for the unhoused community the facility serves. Ash Ponders for ProPublicaJoe Medina has worked in the mail room since 2019 and knows some of the people he serves by name.
A former client at Keys to Change, he started as a volunteer doing odd jobs on the campus before moving into a full-time job in the mail room.
On a recent Friday, he meticulously sorted letters into alphabetized bins.
Paul Babcock approached the mail room window and handed Medina an identification card.
But Medina immediately recognized Babcock and handed him a package.
“Thanks, I’ll see you again soon,” said Babcock, who has been homeless on and off since 2012 and used the mail room for all of that time. Babcock opened his delivery to find a sweatshirt. For the cold weather, he said.
Babcock said having an address has helped him while he lives on the streets. He has received mail from the Social Security Administration, replacement identification cards about five times and chocolate chip cookies from his mother. “I’ve gotten everything from here,” Babcock said.
When people don’t retrieve their mail, Medina sometimes tells others to put the word out so they know to come get it.
“The ones who are coming for their mail are doing something for themselves, no matter how small,” Medina said. Some visit multiple times a day hoping for a letter or a package, he said. But sometimes they leave disappointed.
Medina greeted a woman by name, before retreating to check the bins. “Nothing right now,” he told her.
In 2009, the Postal Service threatened to cut its funding for the mail room, according to reporting by the Arizona Republic. The contract had come up for review because the location doesn’t generate revenue. “We’ve been giving them a donation, and we can no longer do that,” a postal official told the newspaper at the time.
The Postal Service reduced its funding but didn’t eliminate it and said it would create a “public service” contract for the homeless services provider. It’s unclear if it moved forward with that plan. The latest Keys to Change mail room contract appears unchanged from the 2009 agreement, according to Schwabenlender.
A Postal Service spokesperson declined to comment on the terms of the mail room agreement, calling such contracts “confidential.”
When Postal Service officials contacted the Keys to Change in May to inform the organization that the contract would end, they said the agreement “requires financial transactions that include revenue generation,” according to emails provided to ProPublica.
In Maricopa County, which includes Phoenix, more people are entering homelessness than leaving. For every 19 new people experiencing homelessness, 10 people find housing, according to a regional nonprofit that coordinates homeless services.
After Tammy Mcauley left an abusive relationship, her car broke down, causing her to lose her job as a housekeeper. She’s been homeless for a year and most recently lived in a shelter.
She walked up to retrieve her mail with her dog, Mousie, perched in a stroller.
“It makes it so that we can still be people,” Mcauley said of the service.
Later that day, a FedEx truck pulled up to the mail room. The driver dropped off two boxes from Walmart.
Medina knew who they were for and set them aside until they came to get them.
Medina greets a man outside the Keys to Change mail room. Ash Ponders for ProPublicaU.S. Postal Service Cuts Funding for a Phoenix Mail Room Assisting Homeless People was first published on ProPublica and republished with permission.
Nicole Santa Cruz writes about inequality in the Southwest.
In 2016, Venezuela’s president, Nicolas Maduro, declared an economic emergency to confront the country’s spiraling financial crisis. What was billed as a temporary measure quickly expanded – and never truly ended. The “state of emergency” was renewed repeatedly, granting the president sweeping authority to rule by decree. Venezuela’s legislature was sidelined, dissent was criminalized, and democratic institutions were hollowed out under the guise of crisis management.
That story may feel distant, but it’s a warning close to home. Emergencies demand swift, decisive action. In the face of natural disasters, terrorist attacks, or public health crises, strong executive leadership and emergency powers can save lives. Mayors, governors, and presidents must be able to cut through bureaucracy when every minute counts.
But emergency powers are among the most potent – and most dangerous – tools in any democracy. Because they allow leaders to bypass normal checks and balances, these powers must be reserved for genuine crises, not exploited for politics or convenience, and must have a clear end date. Today, that line has blurred, and emergencies can continue with no end in sight.
The United States is currently operating under more than 50 simultaneous national emergencies. Many were declared decades ago. Some are tied to conflicts that have long since ended. What was designed as a narrow, temporary authority has quietly become a system of permanent emergency government, a mechanism for expanding presidential power without congressional consent or public accountability.
That drift has warped the Constitution’s balance of powers. Our founders never intended for one person to wield open-ended emergency authority. The system they designed entrusted Congress – the people’s representatives – with the responsibility to decide whether extraordinary powers should continue once the immediate danger has passed. Yet over time, presidents of both parties have seized ever-broader emergency powers, and Congress has failed to effectively check them.
In 1976, Congress tried to fix this problem through the National Emergencies Act (NEA). The law was meant to restore accountability by requiring regular congressional review. But in practice, it did the opposite. Because ending an emergency now takes a joint resolution that can be vetoed by the president, it effectively demands a veto-proof majority in Congress to succeed. In a polarized political era, that’s nearly impossible. The result is that many emergency declarations persist year after year, long after the crises that justified them have passed.
This creeping normalization of emergency rule is more than a constitutional defect. It blurs the line between temporary crisis management and permanent executive control. It allows presidents to sidestep Congress, avoid public debate, and govern by decree. What should be exceptional has become routine, and it is antithetical to the ideals of American democracy.
And America is not alone in this struggle. Around the world, democracies have seen similar patterns: leaders invoking “temporary” emergencies that linger for years, concentrating power in the executive. From Hungary’s pandemic-era decrees to Turkey’s post-coup state of emergency, history shows how extraordinary powers, once normalized, rarely recede. America’s system was built to resist that temptation – but it is showing strain.
Public opinion reflects this concern. Recent polling shows that a majority of Americans (54 percent) support requiring Congress to decide whether to end or continue presidential emergency powers after 30 days. Only 23 percent oppose it. Voters across party lines understand what the Framers warned: liberty is most endangered when concentrated in a single pair of hands, especially under the vague justification of an undefined “emergency.”
Reforms are both necessary and achievable. Congress should require affirmative approval for any emergency declaration lasting beyond 30 days and mandate regular reauthorization thereafter. It should also require transparency about which statutory powers are being invoked and impose clear expiration dates for each declaration. These steps, outlined in Issue One’s We the People Playbook, would flip the current dynamic, ensuring presidents can act swiftly in crisis, but that the people’s representatives must decide whether those powers endure.
This is not a partisan issue; it is a constitutional one. As James Madison cautioned, the accumulation of legislative and executive power “in the same hands” is the very definition of tyranny. Restoring limits on emergency powers doesn’t weaken the presidency – it strengthens the republic. It ensures that, in times of crisis, America acts with both urgency and legitimacy.
History offers us a clear warning: even the best intentions can lead to unchecked power when emergencies never end. Venezuela’s slow slide from crisis management to one-man rule didn’t happen overnight – it happened through a series of temporary measures that became permanent. America’s democracy is stronger and more resilient, but it is not immune. The surest safeguard against that fate is to reassert Congress’s role and reaffirm that in this nation, no emergency lasts forever.
Alix Fraser is Issue One’s Vice President of Advocacy. He previously spent nearly a decade in foreign policy, developing and executing U.S. foreign policy at the State Department, where he primarily focused on improving democratic institutions and human rights conditions internationally.
Liana Keesing is Issue One’s Policy Lead for Technology Reform, where she leads the organization’s agenda at the intersection of democracy and emerging technology across both federal and state levels. A trained engineer turned policy advocate, Liana excels at translating complex technical issues for policymakers and the public.

Marjorie Taylor Greene has surprised many by questioning her party’s shutdown strategy, making her seem more pragmatic than GOP leaders. On this issue, she is right: the federal government is dark, and the clock is running down. Whether or not this becomes the longest shutdown in U.S. history, the damage is already done.
Earlier shutdowns—Clinton’s fight with Gingrich in 1995, Obama’s battle with House Republicans in 2013, Trump’s 2018 border wall standoff—were disruptive but contained. Agencies furloughed workers, parks closed, markets wobbled, and then the government reopened, usually with a compromise. What makes this shutdown different is what’s at stake: not just funding, but Congress’s very capacity to function as a coequal branch of government.
For years, lawmakers have relied on short-term funding patches instead of passing real budgets. Each delay weakens Congress’s control over spending and strengthens the executive. Now, as some Republicans begin to break ranks, the deeper problem remains: a Congress afraid of blame, a GOP unwilling to confront Trump, and a presidency eager to fill the vacuum.
The real shutdown isn’t confined to darkened federal offices. It’s unfolding inside Congress itself—an institution that has slowly, and perhaps irreversibly, shut down its own ability to govern.
The seeds of this shutdown were planted decades ago. The 1974 Budget Act was designed to restore congressional control after President Nixon refused to spend funds that lawmakers had approved. Ironically, that reform has become the mechanism of Congress’s undoing. Strict deadlines and complex rules encouraged political standoffs, and presidents quickly learned to take advantage whenever Congress failed to meet them.
By the 1990s, shutdowns had become political theater. Gingrich’s 1995 clash with Clinton was the first to weaponize the threat of closure as ideological leverage. Even then, congressional leaders accepted responsibility for ending the crisis because they still saw themselves as stewards of the institution. That sense of stewardship has disappeared, a stark reminder of how swiftly accountability fades when politics devolves into spectacle.
Today’s GOP treats fiscal chaos not as failure but as strategy. Speaker Johnson’s caucus, under pressure from the far-right Freedom Caucus, views paralysis as proof of principle—better to burn down the process than risk compromise. Earlier Republican leaders, from Howard Baker to John Boehner, recognized the true cost of dysfunction. Their successors have chosen submission instead.
Earlier Congresses assumed governing was part of their job. Appropriations bills were debated, amended, and passed through the usual committee process, known in Congress as ‘regular order.’ Committee chairs wielded expertise. Compromise was expected. Today, those habits have been replaced by crisis management through continuing resolutions and executive end-runs. Lawmakers act for the cameras, not the country.
If earlier generations of lawmakers worried about “big government,” today’s should worry about no government at all. This institutional drift stems from ideology, fear, and spectacle. Many Republicans have refused to confront Trump’s hold over their base, fearing that any challenge to him could provoke backlash from MAGA loyalists and cost them politically. Partisan identity has replaced institutional duty, leaving Congress adrift and the presidency stronger than ever.
As Congress stalls, the presidency expands to fill the void. What once required deliberative congressional action is now rushed through in the form of executive orders and emergency declarations. The shutdown has only accelerated this trend, granting the White House de facto control over how and when to spend federal dollars.
It doesn’t take a coup to shift the balance of power, only routine abdication. Each continuing resolution, each emergency declaration, each delayed budget becomes another precedent for executive dominance. The pattern has persisted across administrations, but Trump’s second term has institutionalized it. He doesn’t need Congress to pass sweeping laws; he needs it to fail. The resulting concentration of power is quieter than a constitutional crisis, but every bit as consequential.
Meanwhile, the public grows accustomed to governing by decree. The expectation that presidents will solve every problem—from border policy to student loans—further marginalizes Congress. What the Founders designed as a system of shared power has become one of deferred responsibility, with the legislature acting as a spectator to its own diminishment.
The shutdown will end, but the deeper crisis will remain. Restoring balance requires more than reopening the government; it demands reopening Congress itself.
First, lawmakers must return to regular order—passing appropriations through committees rather than relying on endless continuing resolutions. That alone would begin to reassert legislative authority over federal spending. Second, both parties must recommit to oversight as a shared constitutional duty, not a partisan weapon. The point of oversight is accountability, not ammunition.
Third, Congress needs leaders willing to defend the institution even at political cost. That means challenging executive overreach regardless of who sits in the Oval Office. Members who still believe in representative government must start behaving like its custodians, not commentators on its decline.
Finally, the public must demand a functioning legislature. Voters, too, have a role in this crisis—rewarding those who govern responsibly, not those who perform outrage on cable news. The Founders built a system that depends on civic engagement to keep power in check. Without that, no reform will last.
The real shutdown isn’t about missed paychecks or closed parks. It’s about a democracy that can no longer perform its most basic task: self-government. The cure isn’t another executive order or emergency declaration—it’s a Congress that works. Reopening the government will take a vote. Reopening the Republic will take courage.
Robert Cropf is a Professor of Political Science at Saint Louis University.

President Donald Trump is a unifying issue for Democrats and Republicans. Above, he speaks during a meeting with President of Argentina Javier Milei in the Cabinet Room at the White House on Oct. 14, 2025, in Washington, D.C.
The only thing the parties can agree on is that Donald Trump is the central issue of our time.
Let’s start with a recent headline: “It’s 2025, and Democrats Are Still Running Against Trump.”
“After a year of soul-searching and introspection by Democrats about what they should stand for after losing the White House and Senate in 2024,” Shane Goldmacher of the New York Times writes, “the party is largely coalescing behind the same message that has united it for the past decade: stopping Donald J. Trump.”
Now, I confess to having missed a great deal of soul-searching and introspection among Democrats, but I am reminded of a very different search that happened two decades ago: the search for “weapons of mass destruction” in Iraq.
While you might think I am going for some weird metaphor comparing President Trump to a WMD, that’s not my point.
For those too young to remember, the George W. Bush administration focused on Saddam Hussein’s WMD program as the major — some would say sole — justification for toppling the Iraqi dictator.
This became more controversial after U.S. forces failed to find the WMDs the Bush administration, and others, said were there. For opponents of the war, this turned into the refrain that Bush had “ lied America into war.”
This was always unfair. Then-Pentagon official Paul Wolfowitz, in a now forgotten but once very controversial interview with Vanity Fair, explained why the administration focused on WMDs. “(W)e settled on one issue, weapons of mass destruction,” Wolfowitz said, “because it was the one reason everyone could agree on.”
It may seem like a stretch — probably because it is — but the parallel came to mind because Trump plays a similar dynamic inside the Democratic Party.
Some segments of the party, personified by Sen. Bernie Sanders and New York City mayoral candidate Zohran Mamdani, are flirting with socialism or social democracy. Others are trying to carve out a more centrist, Bill Clinton-style, lane. Some hate Israel. Others defend it. Some want to open the government. Others want to keep the shutdown going. Some support the so-called “abundance agenda,” which seeks to curb government red tape and activist-driven NIMBYism, while others oppose it as a rollback of hard-won environmental and labor protections.
But the one thing they all can agree on: They don’t like Trump.
There are other reasons for focusing on the president. “I worry that Donald Trump is like crack cocaine for our party,” Democratic pollster Celinda Lake told The Times. “Trump is very seductive because when you put up an ad that’s anti-Trump, you get a lot of small-dollar contributions, you get a lot of activists saying, ‘Great job!’ ”
Lake and other Democrats worry that focusing so much on Trump is distracting the party from fashioning a more positive agenda. They’re right. Democrats are about as unpopular as they’ve ever been. This is partly because diehards are mad at their own party for not being tougher in its “resistance” to Trump (hence the shutdown). Other Democrats believe the party is too left-wing and are simply abandoning it.
For instance, in the last five years, nearly twice as many Pennsylvania Democrats switched their registration to the GOP as the other way around. It should be no surprise that opposition to Trump unifies the Democrats who haven’t left for the Republican Party.
Democrats hope that in the short term, opposition to Trump may be enough to win the upcoming off-year gubernatorial elections in Virginia and New Jersey and, perhaps, in the coming midterms.
After all, Trump is unpopular too. His overall approval is just 37%, according to the latest AP-NORC poll. The Economist has him at 40% approving of his second term, with 55% disapproving. Americans give him low scores on the economy and, now, immigration as well.
Still, there’s scant reason to hope for a “blue wave” in next year’s midterms. During the same period in his first term, Democrats had a 9-point advantage on the generic congressional ballot. Now, it’s 1.6 points. A lot rides on where the economy will be a year from now.
However, Trump isn’t just a unifying issue for Democrats. He’s a unifying issue for Republicans as well, which is one reason more people than ever are identifying as independents. Increasingly, calling yourself a Republican means being a Trump supporter for much the same reason that calling yourself a Democrat means being a Trump opponent: It’s the only thing the GOP can agree on.
What this means for the future is unclear, save for one thing: Once Trump is no longer president, or even once he’s a lame duck, both parties are going to have a huge fight trying to figure out what they stand for.
Jonah Goldberg is editor-in-chief of The Dispatch and the host of The Remnant podcast. His Twitter handle is @JonahDispatch.