Swindell, an associate professor of public affairs at Arizona State University, studies how different levels of government interact and work together.
In a nation with more than 90,000 governments, responses to the coronavirus pandemic have highlighted the challenges posed by our system of federalism, where significant power rests with states and local governments.
Three weeks ago Wisconsin's Supreme Court overturned the governor's order for residents to stay at home — and then several cities and counties imposed their own restrictions, very similar to the governor's rules.
So who's running the show? It depends.
At the national level, President Trump has both told the 50 states to fend for themselves — and claimed to have the authority to force states to "reopen."
In the absence of nationwide coordination and leadership, governors have made their own decisions about how to contain the spread of the virus. Their decisions apply only to their own states, making the country a patchwork of varying efforts.
And with state governments lifting their lockdown restrictions to varying degrees, the patchwork is getting even more complicated. Factor in the powers and responsibilities of more than 3,000 counties, nearly 20,000 municipalities and almost 13,000 public school districts around the country, and it becomes clear that the answer to "Who's in charge?" is not so simple.
Who actually has the power to make binding decisions mostly depends on two factors. First, what's being decided: Is it about public health, police, hospitals, schools, barber shops or other businesses? Second: It depends on the state.
Historically, the United States has divided responsibilities for different services and functions across levels of government, so they could be tailored to regional preferences where possible.
For instance, jails are run locally or by counties while businesses get municipal and state licenses. Animal control laws, zoning and pothole repairs are typically handled by local governments. But states typically regulate businesses and industries, oversee welfare programs and manage major highways.
The national government handles things where widespread coordination and standards are important — like the national defense, Social Security, space exploration and commerce among the states.
Before the Great Depression, state and national government duties were more clearly differentiated. Since the 1930s the system has evolved, and the distinctions between which levels do what have blurred and blended.
For instance, states are in charge of public schools and universities, but the federal government makes school districts comply with rules about equal access for all students and provides money to support needy children and university research. Similarly, states build and maintain interstate highways but the federal government pays many of the costs.
Today, this mixing of responsibilities has made it difficult to form a nationally coordinated response to a pandemic in which the effects are mostly local. State and local officials have tried to respond but do not have federal-level resources or buying power.
The federal government may claim to be able to shut down the economy, but the truth is that states are responsible for regulating businesses operating within their boundaries. So the federal government can't order states to close down or reopen businesses.
On the other hand, the president or Congress can decide to give more money to states that go along with federal requests — and potentially cut funding to those that don't. States depend on federal money for criminal justice, education and highways funding, so this type of influence can be very effective.
Another aspect of American federalism worth noting: The Constitution ensures states retain powers beyond the federal government's but also remain very independent from each other. Each can develop its own policies and systems for delivering services.
That means potentially 50 approaches to combating a pandemic that does not respect state boundaries — and the state with the most lax standards in a sense setting the protection level for the whole nation. For instance, Arizona has reopened hair salons and theaters and now allows restaurants to serve inside. Neighboring California is remaining mostly closed, though its people may travel freely across the state line.
As if that weren't muddy enough, each state relates differently to its local governments. Constitutionally speaking, there are only two levels of government in the country — federal and state. Courts and legislatures have determined that local governments are extensions of states, with varying levels of independence.
In most states, local governments must seek permission from state legislatures before setting rules on topics ranging from drone flights to short-term rentals. But other states allow municipal governments to take on whatever responsibilities do not expressly belong to the state government.
All this means response to the pandemic varies not just from state to state, but also within states.
The way overlapping authority has played out is easy to see by looking at how one type of local government — school districts — responded to Covid-19. Sometimes, districts acted on their own. Other times, state departments of education ordered statewide closures, affecting districts that hadn't shut their doors. And some states never issued stay-at-home orders even though most districts had shut down.
As states begin to reopen, similarly confusing processes are happening in reverse. Some states with loosened restrictions have cities that want to maintain something close to sheltering in place — setting off disputes over state vs. local powers from Georgia and Utah to Texas and Colorado.
This diversity of precautions and actions can be seen as a strength of federalism, because it allows us to see how different responses affect the viral spread. Differing local and state decisions are creating experimental laboratories for finding different ways to move back into a fully operational economy.
And that's why your barbershop is still closed while the one in the next town or next state over is already open again.
This article is republished from The Conversation under a Creative Commons license. Click here to read the original article.
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Children watch a July Fourth Parade along the Walkway of Heroes and Independence Avenue on July 04, 2026 in Tappan, New York.
The Great American Grumpfest
Our nation’s 250th birthday party didn’t feel especially patriotic and wasn’t as much fun as the 200th anniversary was.
President Trump, who did his best to co-opt our holiday for his personal aggrandizement, was a major reason. The party he threw in Washington, D.C., was crankier than uplifting, and less about celebrating our shared past and a promising future than about reminding us how far we have strayed from our founders’ plan to create a republic that future Americans would keep in good working order.
Credit Trump this much. He has a singular gift for picking at scabs that other politicians would rather ignore and pushing us into reckonings we don’t need.
The thing is, Americans have seen all this before. Sometimes the makeover we were encouraged to undertake was more conservative, sometimes more liberal. Whatever direction we were pushing, however, the reckoning we had in mind this time had to be more forthright and the conclusion more definitive than it was the last time.
Our current discontents, the ones behind the reckoning President Trump has been trying to inspire, are not trivial. Included among them are immigration, birthright citizenship, exploding healthcare costs, election rigging, a gag-inducing national debt, how we educate our children, too many genders, racial differences we can’t move past, a lopsided economy that favors more well-off Americans, and historic levels of political corruption and graft. Add to these the several foreign adventures he has pushed us into or is anxious to undertake, and you have the makings of a national headache the likes of which we haven’t had in half a century.
All the elbow-throwing and overheated rhetoric we’re using today have begun to look almost normal in all the ways that bickering neighbors and feuding family members appear normal. But they have also made us look mean-spirited and have portrayed our differences as irreconcilable. To ourselves, of course, but also to many people outside the United States who might be forgiven for turning their heads and not looking at the national car wreck we Americans show no interest in avoiding.
The good news, as I suggested above, is that Americans have had a great deal of practice dealing with challenges and national car wrecks like these.
This essay begins to lay out the reasons why.
By way of illustration, we have our seemingly insatiable demand for more bad news about race in America.
Sixty years after being released from the legal constrictions that bedeviled both white and black Americans, many white people have come to believe the color that used to make them unassailable is now a sign of a moral inferiority born of a racial animus they can never wash off. Many black people, on the other hand, are insisting that America is as hopelessly stacked against them as the formerly unassailable white people’s ancestors used to tell their black ones.
The result is that many people today are buying into racist nightmares and mumbo jumbo that their black and white ancestors worked hard and effectively to put in each other’s heads.
This might be dismissed as crazy behavior if it weren’t so important to rituals Americans have long used to express their deepest fears about each other while figuring out what move they can make that won’t end with their world crashing down on everybody’s head.
Unfortunately, the kind of cultural sleight of hand we have used to ramp up our racial differences has been appropriated by people who have many other cultural fears and unresolved differences with each other. Their clumsy but culturally prescribed missteps are making all these other issues look as irremediable as our racial problems.
A good place to start an answer to how we back away from ledges is Alexis de Tocqueville’s writing on early-19th-century American democracy. He had an optimistic take on Americans’ unscripted displays of public bravado, recrimination, and payback.
For him, these were occasions when people tried to mitigate the effects of the unfair hand they were dealing someone else or had themselves been dealt by behaving in ways quite at odds with how they would otherwise be expected to act. These inversions of what Tocqueville called “the natural order of conscience” presented themselves as a loud but culturally muted challenge to the hypocrisies that people had built into the world they’d made together.
One of his favorite illustrations of early-American hypocrisy involved slave masters sleeping with their less-than-worthy slaves. To the best of my knowledge, he didn’t pick up on all the ways that slaves messed with their owners. Their well-chronicled and quiet resistance showed that even severely ill-treated people can exercise more control over their lives than outsiders appreciate.
Be that as it may, such inversions of a people’s “natural order of conscience” make a good public show of them wrestling with demons they can’t or may not want to shake off, but in any case, are nowhere close to figuring out how to cast out.
Implicit in these disruptions was the discomforting idea that people might flip the entire script and turn the world on its head in more permanent ways. That kind of flipping worked out better for us in our revolution against England than in our Civil War. These events taught us the value of stepping back from historically unprecedented ledges.
Americans of late have been giving loud expression to a long list of things they don’t like about each other and the last makeover they started but didn’t finish a half-century ago. The outcome of our fights today will be as revealing as they are embarrassing to everyone who imagined they could recast our country in a way that privileged their favorite kind of Americans.
Their disappointment with the accommodations they strike will be palpable, but the middling results they achieve with all their pushing and shoving won’t be anything they can’t live with.
Anthropologists who have written about such moments in other cultures less “advanced” than our own show that people find ways to work around their seemingly irreconcilable differences without ever fully resolving them. Indeed, the patches and repairs people make have the unheralded effect of reinforcing rather than undermining the legitimacy of the practices and values they thought were fundamentally flawed.
For example…
White guilt and black pessimism do more good than putting cash into the pockets of professional shamers and handwringers. They give the rest of us who don’t feel guilty or powerless more time to make the world less racially unequal. Good news.
Regarding illegal immigration, the entrance requirements for future immigrants will remain stringent. Americans will applaud the continued detention and deportation of the few illegal immigrants who commit serious crimes. Good news.
All the people who came to the United States without being legally vetted and were locked up for a time will be released in numbers small enough to avoid serious media attention. Along with the several million other good people who snuck in but avoided capture, the former detainees will go to school, find gainful employment, pay their taxes, and stay out of trouble. Many will eventually become citizens. Good news.
Investigations into election tampering and Donald Trump’s 2020 presidential loss will come to an unceremonious conclusion the day after his second term ends. Many Americans will grumble about this, but there will also be some quiet partying, too. Good and bad news.
Congressional hearings into all the grifting accomplished by people tied to the Trump administration will end without anyone having to pay a dime back to the American taxpayers. Bad news, we’ll learn to live with.
New laws and regulations will be created in the hope that the kind of corruption practiced by President Trump will not be repeated for another 250 years. Good news, I hope we’ll live long enough to enjoy.
Show trials for people who allegedly vandalized the Lincoln Memorial Reflecting Pool, if they happen, will get big television viewer ratings. Good news.
Trials for pardoned Capitol insurrectionists who committed serious crimes after their release should get more attention, but won’t. Bad news.
We will continue to hear nothing from most of the people who were pardoned for crimes they committed in the insurrection at the Capitol on January 6, 2021. They will keep their mouths shut and their heads down for the rest of their life. Good news.
The gold-gilded ornaments that Donald Trump had plastered all over the White House will be shipped to Mar-a-Lago, where the former president will sell them on eBay. Fun news.
American taxpayers end up paying for most of the new East Wing, the removal of the miniature gladiatorial arena that was built behind the White House, and the restoration of the White House rose garden. Bad news.
The Triumphal Arch was never built. Good news.
Trad wives and gay couples raise perfectly lovely children. Good but unsurprising news.
Trans men and women learn that most Americans can’t figure out who they used to be. No one gives a second thought to their use of “family bathrooms” or “unisex bathrooms” in public settings, businesses, and schools. Communities will sponsor athletic teams that have trans boys and girls just to show they can. Good news.
Budget deficits will be kicked down the road for someone else’s children to pay down. Bad news.
Federal agencies that had their budgets and employee ranks slashed during President Trump’s second term are getting some of the money and lost positions back. Good news.
Elite universities will buy their way out of DEI purgatory by competing for conservative scholars whose inflated salaries dwarf those of their liberal colleagues, who will think about suing their institutions for reverse discrimination but won’t be able to figure out who would pay for it or care. More fun news.
Okay. I’ve probably missed some ways that Americans will step back from the ledges they have been making noises about leaping off. But to the extent that my predictions pan out, the best and most important moral of the stories about us stepping away is this: everything we lost and took back, or had returned to us, will have happened without our government collapsing, civic traditions crumbling, or our people beating each other up.
The reason why is that the differences Americans have with each other really weren’t as irreconcilable as we made them out to be. The empty-sounding bromide that Americans have more that unites us than divides us turns out to be true, not just metaphorically but in fact.
Now that is really something to celebrate.
Daniel J. Monti (danieljmonti.com) is Professor of Sociology at Saint Louis University and the author of American Democracy and Disconsent: Liberalism and Illiberalism in Ferguson, Charlottesville, Black Lives Matter, and the Capitol Insurrection.