Nearly half of all Americans have stopped talking to someone about political topics because of something they have said in person or online. Our culture of contempt continues to divide us and make governing together more difficult. In this episode of the How Do We Fix It podcast, Peter Coleman, a leading expert on conflict resolution, discusses a way forward.
(L-R) Recep Tayyip Erdoğan, President of Turkey, Mark Rutte, Secretary General of NATO, Donald Trump, President of United States and Keir Starmer, Prime Minister of United Kingdom during a “family photo” at Beştepe Presidential Compound during a welcome ceremony for the NATO Summit on July 08, 2026 in Ankara, Turkey.
It seems just yesterday I was writing up a piece regarding the G7 summit taking place in southern France. In truth, it was a few weeks ago, but now that the NATO summit has wrapped up, I can’t be the only one with deja vu; world leaders meeting amid the continuing US-led war with Iran. I think I’ve seen this film before.
Welcome to Faultline. Last week, heads of NATO member states convened in Turkey for their yearly summit. Many issues were on the table for the summit, and the one expected to take center stage was the ongoing Russian invasion of Ukraine, considering that the Iran war was supposed to be done, as had been announced weeks ago. However, less than 30 days into the alleged 60-day ceasefire, President Trump has announced that negotiations with Iran are over, and not because they reached an agreement.
So the dominant question remains, if the war in Iran isn’t over, is the rest of NATO expected to intervene? The short answer coming out of Ankara appears to be no — and, notably, almost no one at the summit was willing to press the question.
Some background first. NATO stands apart from the United Nations, the European Union, and the Group of 7 in that it is not only a codified alliance, but it has the clear capacity to militarily intervene. Unlike the UN, which typically relies on making resolutions that encourage (read: rely) on other countries to intervene to complete its goals, NATO can act as a unilateral entity on its own.
Article 5 of the NATO charter states “that an armed attack against one NATO member shall be considered an attack against all members, and triggers an obligation for each member to come to its assistance.” In practice, this means that there is an automatic military obligation for every country involved in NATO.
The only example of its explicit use is the fallout of 9/11, an obvious terrorist attack against the United States that triggered military intervention from NATO in Afghanistan. However, the coalition can also offer help to non-member states informally, and has stepped in on external conflicts, such as bthe 1995 bombing campaign against Bosnian Serb forces amid genocide allegations during the Bosnian War as well as offering military aid to Ukraine amid the Russian invasion as of 2022.
In recent years, however, NATO has been a major point of contention in US politics. Most notably, President Trump has expressed his frustration with the relative contributions of other Western nations in the alliance. The United States leads in individual spending on the military and on NATO by several miles, and is responsible for most contributions during interventions.
As the conflict with Iran continues, Trump has insisted that NATO must play a role in reopening the Strait of Hormuz, and has complained extensively about the lack of help so far. At the summit, US Ambassador to NATO Matthew Whitaker pushed a “NATO 3.0” framing, calling for allies to boost defense spending and reduce their dependency on the United States militarily — a message that landed squarely on the burden-sharing complaints Trump has voiced since April.
Another point of tension that world leaders have tiptoed around is President Trump’s unique relationship with Russian President Putin, who is currently carrying out the very invasion against Ukraine that NATO has mobilized against. Before Trump left the US for Turkey, he reportedly had a 90-minute phone call with Putin. Last year, he rolled out the red carpet for Putin’s arrival at an Alaska meeting. One of his campaign promises in 2024 was a decisive end to the war in Ukraine “within 24 hours,” which has now exceeded World War I’s length.
That said, Trump said the US would give Ukraine a license to manufacture Patriot air defense systems, which would help defend against Russian missile attacks. His tone was much more amicable with Ukrainian President Zelensky, who he infamously ripped into for not wearing a suit in the White House.
European leaders also each pledged a total of about 70 million euros to the Ukrainian war effort, reflecting increasing faith in Ukraine’s chance in warding off the Russian invasion. The Russian front has shown no signs of slowing, with Russian strikes killing dozens of civilians in Kyiv in the days before the summit even began.
For Americans, it might be a cause for comfort that less taxpayer money will be going abroad, if that is a concern. The Ukraine pledge notably came from European allies and Canada, not the United States. It complies with the Trump administration promises of less international intervention, as well as a lower tax deal, if seen in a vacuum.
But the elephant in the room of these discussions was the apparent lack of an Iran deal. Gas prices are going down, but as things stand, it isn’t likely that they will stay low. The military has reinstated the blockade on the Strait of Hormuz and President Trump has said he plans to keep sanctions and strikes on the table until Iran complies.
The total estimated cost of the Iran war exceeds $100 billion, and broader economic impacts conservatively sit at $150 billion. Though tax bills themselves, this past April and surely next year, are not changing significantly (rather, several Trump-sponsored tax cuts are taking effect) the war’s impact on spending cannot be understated. Practically every measure of spending has increased through the war, imports are more expensive and gas prices will prove to be volatile. Economists estimate that Pentagon spending costs the average American household roughly $1,000 in lost economic benefit, effectively offsetting the administration’s recent tax relief efforts.
But, at last week’s NATO summit, international leaders largely did not voice concerns to the president. Rather, the NATO chief Mark Rutte has described President Trump’s attacks on Iran ‘absolutely necessary,’ even now that Iran’s nuclear capabilities have allegedly been destroyed. Although Article 5 has not been invoked, and countries are not providing outright military support, many member nations are certainly assisting the American war effort through logistical support, airspace, and military bases for U.S. operations.
The one country which has refused to volunteer their airspace, Spain, has been threatened with sanctions and heightened tariffs by President Trump. Not every leader stayed silent — Poland’s Karol Nawrocki and Norway’s Jonas Gahr Støre both pushed back publicly on Trump’s threats to pull US troops from Europe, calling the bluff rather than falling in line. But on Iran specifically, that kind of pushback was notably absent.
What we’re seeing is a reflection of the G7 summit last month, as well as international politics as a whole. No one with the capacity to disagree with Trump in any meaningful way is doing so on the Iran question, and most people have chosen to not disagree at all. In some cases, it seems this strategy has paid off in order to encourage Trump’s continued investment abroad, but will likely circle back to harm Americans.
NATO Has an Article 5. It Doesn't Have an Iran Policy was first published by Faultline and was republished with permission.
Isabel Papp is a summer fellow with The Fulcrum. She is a student at Northwestern University, double‑majoring in Journalism and Political Science. A bilingual journalist, she is a proactive, equity‑centered storyteller committed to elevating underrepresented voices.
The Congressional Management Foundation's Democracy Awards recognize congressional offices that demonstrate excellence in public service. While the headlines often focus on conflict, this year's winners remind us that strong leadership, thoughtful management, and a commitment to continuous improvement strengthen both Congress and the constituents it serves
Constituent service remains one of Congress's core functions, and this year's winners of the Best of Constituent Service Award demonstrate that excellence requires exceptional organizations and internal infrastructure. For example, Senator Adam Schiff's office (D-CA) streamlined processes by creating online forms for casework authorization and privacy releases. This system allows constituents to submit requests in minutes, streamlining a process that traditionally required extensive time and resources, resulting in more efficient casework intake
Meaningful communication is essential to building trust between Members of Congress and the people they represent. This year's winners of the Best of Constituent Correspondence & Engagement Award found innovative ways to strengthen those connections. Representative Mike Flood’s office (R-NE) strategically organizes mobile office hours throughout the district each quarter and ensures concerns raised there are routed to the appropriate staff within 24 hours.
For many constituents, a visit to the Capitol is their most personal interaction with Congress, and this year’s winners of the Best of Constituent Experience in D.C. Award demonstrate how thoughtful planning can make those moments meaningful. For instance, Representative Val Hoyle's office (D-OR) turns constituent visits into memorable events through Member-led evening Capitol tours that begin with a reception-style gathering in the office, featuring home-state food and beverage products, and conclude on the House floor.
Innovation is most valuable when it helps congressional offices better serve their constituents, and this year's winners of the Best of Innovation & Modernization Award showed that modernization is most powerful when it solves practical problems. For example, Representative August Pfluger's office (R-TX) developed the "Pfluger Bot," an AI-powered tool integrated with their internal communication system that automatically categorizes incoming constituent correspondence and routes it appropriately. This technology frees staff to spend more time on constituent work.
At a time when partisan divisions undermine internal collaboration and progress, this year's winners of the Best of Bipartisan Collaboration Award demonstrate the value of sustained relationship-building across political lines. Representative Lucy McBath (D-GA) provides a clear example of such work by participating in a bipartisan prayer group as an avenue to develop meaningful working relationships with colleagues from the opposite party.
The strongest congressional offices are often distinguished by their internal dynamics, and the Excellence in Congressional Management Award recognizes offices that foster effective leadership, strong organizational practices, and a culture of accountability. Representative Ashley Hinson's office (R-IA) promotes transparency and accountability through weekly team-wide reports detailing constituent service metrics, legislative activity, communications performance, and office accomplishments.
The Chief of Staff of the Year Award honors the steady leaders behind every successful congressional office. Chiefs build teams, mentor staff, solve problems before they become crises, and create the culture that allows offices to thrive. While their work is rarely visible to the public, its impact is felt every day by Members, staff, and constituents.
This year's winners tell an encouraging story about Congress. Excellence is built through thoughtful leadership, dedicated public servants, strong organizational structures, and a shared commitment to improving the way congressional offices serve their constituents. These offices remind us that while the challenges facing Congress are enormous, extraordinary work is taking place every day to strengthen the First Branch.
The winners of the 2026 Democracy Awards include:
Best of U.S. Senate Constituent Service
Best of U.S. House Constituent Service
Best of Constituent Correspondence & Outreach
Best Constituent Experience in D.C.
Best of Innovation & Modernization
Best of Bipartisan Collaboration
Excellence in Congressional Management
Chief of Staff of the Year
David Nevins is the publisher of The Fulcrum and co-founder and board chairman of the Bridge Alliance Education Fund.
U.S. Senator Lindsey Graham, Republican of South Carolina, listens to President Donald Trump unveiling the Kennedy Center Honors nominees on Aug. 13, 2025, at the Kennedy Center in Washington, D.C.
I met the late Sen. Lindsey Graham about 20 years ago, when I was coming up in conservative politics.
I had been part of the neoconservative wing that believed in the “benevolent hegemon” version of America, and the idea that “history can be pushed along with the right application of power and will,” as Francis Fukuyama once described it.
Like Fukuyama, many of us later came to question both the prudence and the righteousness of that theory as the Iraq War unraveled. But at the time, my hawkishness endeared me to people like Lindsey. Famously a hawk himself, he took to calling me “my little libertarian,” not because I was one, but as a playful dig at my occasional limitations on war — namely, the Constitution.
As recently as last summer, he charged into a room in the basement of the Capitol where I was and proclaimed, “There she is — my little libertarian.”
I enjoyed working with Graham in those early days, and later as I broke with the party over Trumpism, I enjoyed covering him as a journalist. But I also watched with some sadness as he morphed into a coward.
Donald Trump’s entry into Republican politics scrambled everything — it changed both the party and many of those who had led it, and Lindsey was no exception. In 2016, Graham would call Trump “a race-baiting, xenophobic, religious bigot,” who “doesn’t represent my party.”
Just a short time later, he refashioned himself into one of Trump’s staunchest defenders.
After Jan. 6, conversations inside the party were swirling around whether Trump was still the best standard-bearer for Republicans, or if he was now a liability. It was a moment when leaders on the right could have attempted a realignment of sorts, a life after Trump.
There were good reasons to move on from one of the most destructive periods in modern American politics, including the original ones Lindsey gave for opposing Trump. After all, he was still a race-baiting, xenophobic, religious bigot, but now we also knew he was an incompetent, corrupt, and self-dealing narcissist. Now was the time.
But when Lindsey was asked about this in May 2021, gone were the courage and confidence of his convictions. Instead, he was at best a reluctant realist, at worst, a subservient suck-up.
Graham said of Trump, “He’s the most popular Republican in the country by a lot. If you try to drive him out of the Republican Party, half the people will leave.”
He wasn’t concerned with good conservatives leaving the party — folks like Reps. Adam Kinzinger and Liz Cheney, and Sen. Mitt Romney and Jeff Flake were already being pushed out by Trump. He was talking about the people who showed up on Jan. 6, the Proud Boys, the Oath Keepers, the white nationalists and MAGA die-hards. They would have left if Trump had been pushed out. To which any good conservative should have said, “good riddance.”
But Lindsey, in his quest for power and relevance, decided to placate those ugly and odious elements, the very elements that his longtime friend John McCain had fought to marginalize and eliminate.
The sad irony in this is that Lindsey already had the kind of power and relevance that could have helped lead a movement to refocus the party on the ideals that once mattered to him. Instead, he squandered it to support Trump’s return, this time with a vengeance.
There’s a lot about Lindsey Graham that I’ll miss — his ability to work across the aisle, his fierce defense of the Syrians and the Ukrainians, his lifelong commitment to public service, and yes, his affectionate nickname for me. But what I’ll miss most is the man he never became, the man who could have led his party to the side of the right and the good. RIP to both men.
S.E. Cupp is the host of "S.E. Cupp Unfiltered" on CNN.
U.S. President Donald Trump in the Oval Office of the White House on July 14, 2026 in Washington, DC.
President Donald Trump blasted ICE’s decision to suspend most vehicle stops after agents fatally shot two men just six days apart in Texas and Maine, declaring on his social media site: “We CANNOT give up one of ICE’s most important and effective Crime Fighting tools, THE TRAFFIC STOP!” His response made the stakes unmistakably clear. Instead of acknowledging the loss of life or the urgent need for accountability, Trump rushed to defend the very tactic that produced these deadly encounters. Once again, he signaled that the wellbeing of people — immigrants or citizens — matters far less to him than protecting his political agenda.
Trump’s posture toward ICE has always been rooted in escalation. He has framed undocumented immigrants as threats, encouraged aggressive enforcement, and rewarded secrecy over transparency. The consequences of that approach are now visible in a series of fatal encounters that reveal an agency operating without meaningful oversight.
The two most recent ICE killings — one in Biddeford, Maine, the other in Houston, Texas — are not isolated tragedies. They are flashing red sirens warning that a federal agency armed with guns and legal authority is functioning without basic safeguards. In Maine, agents shot and killed 26‑year‑old Colombian national Johann Sebastian Guerrero during a traffic stop; in Houston, they killed Lorenzo Salgado Araujo, a Mexican man driving to work. In both cases, agents wore no body cameras, offered conflicting accounts, and left families — and the public — with nothing but their word. When an agency can take a life and leave behind no evidence, that is not law enforcement. That is impunity — the predictable outcome of a political climate that has spent years dehumanizing undocumented immigrants.
The Maine shooting is even more alarming because Guerrero was not the person ICE intended to arrest. Sen. Angus King said ICE briefed him that Guerrero — identified by community groups as a 26‑year‑old Colombian national — was mistakenly targeted. King also confirmed that agents were not wearing body cameras, leaving investigators and the public with no independent record of what happened. A man who was never wanted by ICE ended up dead, with no video, no transparency, and no accountability — a stark reminder of how dangerously opaque and error‑prone the agency’s enforcement practices have become.
The Houston killing reveals the same pattern. Salgado Araujo, a Mexican national on his way to work, was shot and killed by ICE agents who claim he tried to ram an officer with his car — a narrative his family strongly disputes. As in Maine, ICE officers were not wearing body cameras, leaving no independent evidence of what occurred and no way to verify the government’s account. The absence of video forces the public to rely solely on ICE’s version of events, eroding trust and underscoring how easily deadly force can be used without scrutiny.
Earlier this year, the Minnesota shootings showed how deeply ICE’s lack of transparency has damaged public confidence. Renee Good, a 37‑year‑old mother of three, and Alex Pretti, a 37‑year‑old ICU nurse, were both killed by federal officers during January protests against an immigration enforcement surge in Minneapolis. State investigators say ICE withheld key evidence for months, including body‑camera footage that should have been turned over immediately. That delay stalled the investigation and left families in limbo, forced to grieve without answers while federal officials controlled the narrative. The Minnesota cases reveal the same pattern seen in Maine and Houston: deadly force, disputed accounts, and an agency that treats transparency as optional — even when lives are lost.
Illinois offers yet another example. In Franklin Park, an ICE agent fatally shot Silverio Villegas González during a 2025 enforcement operation, later telling investigators his injuries were “nothing major” — a detail that sharply undercuts ICE’s claim that deadly force was necessary to protect officers from serious harm. ICE also delayed the release of key records, mirroring the same secrecy and stonewalling seen in Minnesota, Maine, and Houston. When an agent can kill someone and then describe his own injuries as minor, it raises fundamental questions about whether deadly force was justified at all — and exposes how ICE’s internal accounts often collapse under scrutiny.
Taken together, these cases show a consistent pattern: an agency emboldened by political rhetoric that casts immigrants as threats and protected by a system that rewards secrecy over accountability. Trump’s repeated portrayal of undocumented people as “invaders” and “poison” has not only dehumanized millions — it has created the political permission structure in which ICE’s most extreme actions are tolerated, excused, or ignored. When leaders strip people of their humanity, agencies feel licensed to strip them of their rights.
ICE’s impunity is not accidental; it is structural. The agency operates inside a deportation‑industrial complex where private prison corporations like CoreCivic and GEO Group profit from detention, lobby for harsher enforcement, and thrive under weak oversight. Their business model depends on opacity, and ICE’s enforcement practices — shrouded in secrecy, resistant to scrutiny — help keep that model alive.
This profit motive flourishes in a political climate shaped by Trump’s dehumanizing language. When people are labeled “animals,” “invaders,” or “poison,” violence becomes easier to justify, secrecy becomes easier to defend, and detention becomes a business opportunity. When agencies operate in the dark, violence becomes easier to hide. When corporations profit from detention, violence becomes part of the business model.
The killings across the country demand more than outrage — they demand a national reckoning with an agency allowed to operate outside democratic norms. ICE must be required to wear body cameras during all enforcement operations, ban face coverings that obscure identity, release incident footage within a defined timeframe, end contracts with private detention companies, and submit to independent oversight with real investigative power. These are not radical demands — they are the bare minimum for any agency that carries weapons, conducts raids, and makes life‑and‑death decisions in our communities.
As a journalist and advocate for equitable civic information, I have spent years listening to immigrant families who live with the daily fear of ICE. Their stories are not abstractions. They are parents who worry about being taken from their children, workers who fear being targeted at job sites, students who wonder whether their school will be next. They see agents arrive in masks, without cameras or accountability.
The deaths of people at the hands of the Trump administration are warnings we cannot afford to ignore. ICE’s current model is unsustainable, unsafe, and incompatible with democratic values. If we fail to act, more families will suffer the same fate as the loved ones of Johann Sebastian Guerrero, Lorenzo Salgado Araujo, Renee Goode, Alex Pretti, and Silverio Villegas González.
Trump’s refusal to confront ICE’s deadly pattern is not just a policy failure. It is a moral one. And it is costing lives.
The question now is not whether ICE needs reform. It is whether the country is willing to confront a president who treats human suffering as collateral damage in the service of his political ambitions. The families of those killed by ICE are watching. Immigrant communities are watching. The nation is watching.
And history will remember who chose silence — and who demanded accountability.
Hugo Balta is the executive editor of The Fulcrum and the publisher of the Latino News Network, and twice president of the National Association of Hispanic Journalists
