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.

Russell Vought, the acting director of the Consumer Financial Protection Bureau, testified before the Senate Committee on Banking, Housing and Urban Affairs in July.
In mid-July testimony before Congress, Russell Vought boasted that, as the acting head of the Consumer Financial Protection Bureau, he’d refashioned the agency’s approach to pursuing banks and other financial companies accused of exploiting Americans — the role Congress had created for the agency after the 2008 economic crash.
Vought had spent the first 18 months of the new Trump administration trying to dismantle the bureau, much as he and other appointees had done with the U.S. Agency for International Development. At CFPB, he’d ordered mass layoffs, tried to choke off the bureau’s funding and ended the lease on its headquarters, attempting to make good on his vow to put civil servants “in trauma.” But federal courts blocked Vought’s efforts to close the CFPB, with a judge at one point saying the administration had acted with “complete disregard” for Congress.
So Vought, who is one of President Donald Trump’s top advisers, switched tactics: If there had to be a watchdog, theirs would be more of a golden retriever, friendlier to industry and less aggressive. Vought had accused the bureau of “thuggery” in the past, and said the “new” CFPB would focus on deregulation, embrace “humility” and adopt a “collaborative approach” to its dealings with companies that harm consumers.
As evidence of the success of this new approach, Vought singled out one company by name in his testimony, a buzzy startup called Bilt. The company, which offers credit cards used to make rent and mortgage payments, had fumbled a critical transition, leading to confusion and financial stress for its customers. In the past, the CFPB might’ve deployed examiners to ensure that every consumer harmed got relief, investigated Bilt’s technology platforms for potential flaws, questioned its third-party contractors or issued subpoenas — with the goal of finding the root causes of whatever went wrong and preventing it from happening again.
The Trump-era CFPB took a different tack. “We reached out to the company,” Vought told Congress, “and before it got to the adversarial part of the process, they were able to fix their issues.” The CFPB even posted a feel-good statement on its website, touting its new approach and telling consumers that information provided by Bilt “appears to show” the firm was “back on track.”
Yet two weeks after Vought’s testimony, Bilt failed customers again. This time, Bilt cardholders received mistaken debt collection notices and saw their credit scores go down as a result, sparking more embarrassing news stories and angry complaints. It was Bilt’s second fiasco in six months, and as its customers scrambled to understand what had gone wrong, the CFPB was nowhere to be found.
The Bilt controversy offered an early test of CFPB’s new approach, and the results suggest that an ask-nicely strategy to consumer protection isn’t likely to protect consumers. What’s more, current and former CFPB officials say the bureau could’ve caught the issues that caused the second of Bilt’s two screw-ups had the previous playbook still been in use.
ProPublica sent the CFPB a detailed set of questions about its handling of the Bilt complaints and what actions it took to protect consumers and prevent future problems. The bureau did not respond to any questions or requests for comment.
The whole episode drives at a bigger question, according to consumer advocates and current and former CFPB employees: If the Trump administration can’t eliminate the CFPB, what will become of it in the hands of Trump officials, such as Vought, who have long believed the agency is unnecessary? (Vought termed out as acting director in early August but remains a senior adviser. The administration’s nominee for full-time director, Brian Johnson, is an executive at Capital One bank and a former CFPB appointee. At his confirmation hearing, Johnson said he could not think of a single decision that he disagreed with made by Vought at the CFPB.)
“What we saw Vought do with Bilt is innovative — and I don’t mean that as a compliment,” said Mike Pierce, a former CFPB official who runs the consumer advocacy group Protect Borrowers, which has criticized Vought’s tenure at the bureau.
Bilt’s business rests on a simple premise: Consumers should build credit and earn rewards for what’s typically their single biggest expense — their rent or mortgage payment. “Prior to Bilt, that payment didn’t build anyone’s credit history, which is crazy,” Bilt co-founder Ankur Jain said in March. Jain added that it was “silly that you can earn rewards buying a round of drinks at a bar, but not paying your rent every month.”
Founded in 2021, Bilt is one of the hottest startups in the personal finance industry. Bilt says it has 7 million customers and has raised nearly $1 billion in venture capital investments, at a $10.75 billion valuation. Investors include private equity giant Blackstone, the Ontario Teachers’ Pension Plan and a venture capital fund chaired by former American Express CEO Kenneth Chenault.
Forbes estimates Jain’s wealth at $3.4 billion. People magazine published exclusive photos of Jain’s 2024 wedding to Erika Hammond, a former WWE wrestler and cast member on the upcoming season of “The Real Housewives of New York City.” The event took place near the Great Pyramid of Giza; one photo shows the couple kissing at sunset with the Sphinx and pyramids in the background.
Earlier this year, Bilt suffered a serious crisis. The startup had signed a seven-year partnership with Wells Fargo to offer Bilt-branded credit cards that could be used to pay rent. Under its deal with Bilt, Wells Fargo agreed to absorb processing fees associated with rent transactions and make payments to Bilt because it saw the partnership as a way to attract new customers who might one day seek a mortgage from Wells Fargo, according to The Wall Street Journal.
But revenue fell short of Wells Fargo’s projections, and the bank was losing so much money — as much as $10 million a month, the Journal reported — that it ended its partnership with Bilt four years early. (A Bilt spokesperson said at the time that the Journal’s reporting was “an inaccurate representation” of the Wells Fargo partnership.)
Bilt co-founder Ankur Jain attended the Bilt Rewards x Wells Fargo launch party in March 2022. Jared Siskin/Patrick McMullan via Getty Images
In February, Bilt relaunched its credit cards with new financial partners. But the rollout of “Bilt 2.0,” as the company called it, was a debacle.
Customers said their rent payments were paid late, double-charged or not paid at all. Credit limits had been lowered from one card to the next. Their cards were inexplicably frozen. “This unexpected double charge has caused significant inconvenience and financial distress,” one Bilt customer wrote to the CFPB in February after Bilt paid her rent twice in the same month. (A Bilt spokesperson said, “As soon as we were made aware of this issue, we resolved it and made the member whole.”)
Bilt’s customer support department struggled to keep up as tens of thousands of messages poured in. Customers fumed that they were unable to bypass chatbots and reach a human being for help. They also bombarded the CFPB’s website with complaints, which included accounts of how Bilt’s AI support system gave information that was “completely wrong” and “demonstrably … false.” (In a statement at the time, Bilt said its new card had “attracted unexpectedly high demand, and some of our members experienced gaps in service that are simply unacceptable to us.” The company told ProPublica it resolved all problems related to the new cards “months ago.”)
In March, the consumer group Protect Borrowers sent a letter to the CFPB, demanding that the bureau’s supervision or enforcement divisions take “immediate action.” Sen. Elizabeth Warren, D-Mass., wrote to Bilt, pointing out a 1,300% increase in complaints about the company submitted to the CFPB in February and seeking answers about the Bilt 2.0 transition. Warren also said that Bilt’s practice of immediately debiting rent payments may have run afoul of the 2009 Credit Card Accountability Responsibility and Disclosure Act’s disclosure requirements for credit cards. A Bilt spokesperson said Warren’s assertions were “incorrect.”
It’s common for lawmakers and advocacy groups to fire off outraged letters about a company’s alleged wrongdoing.
The strange part is what the CFPB, then led by Vought, chose to do about it.
The law that established the CFPB, the Dodd-Frank Act of 2010, envisioned two tracks for the bureau’s work.
On the supervision track, CFPB employees would periodically visit banks and other financial institutions to monitor their business practices and ensure compliance with the law. Supervision would be confidential, giving companies the ability to adjust their operations without public scrutiny. Contrary to Vought’s accusations, current and former CFPB staffers say the traditional supervision process has long been collaborative and nonpublic. Congress designed it that way when it wrote the law.
Supervision could examine the past or look in real time. In one notable instance, when two federal student loan servicers exited the industry in 2021, the bureau’s supervision division chose to proactively monitor the transition of more than 9 million borrowers’ accounts to new servicers. Bureau staffers caught problems mid-transfer, from inaccurate due dates to botched repayment schedules, and directed the companies to fix them. It later published a recap of what the CFPB did as well as a set of tips so that the rest of the industry could avoid the same mistakes.
On the enforcement track, CFPB lawyers would file lawsuits against or pursue consent decrees — binding settlements that courts can enforce — with companies that allegedly broke the law. By their nature, lawsuits and settlements are public, but the enforcement division didn’t speak publicly about its actions apart from its filings.
The Trump-era CFPB took neither of these tracks in response to Bilt’s first incident. A senior political appointee and Vought aide, Victoria Dorfman, took the lead in contacting Bilt and asking for information about the consumer complaints, according to a person familiar with the interactions who requested anonymity to share confidential communications. Dorfman was joined by Elie Greenbaum, another Vought adviser, and Deborah Morris, the deputy enforcement director. Having political appointees lead this process, instead of nonpartisan career executives and subject-matter experts, was “abnormal” for the CFPB “but is becoming normal” under the Trump administration, a current CFPB staffer told ProPublica.
Dorfman, Greenbaum and Morris met with Bilt’s executives, who explained how they were fixing the problems and supplied data to the bureau about the company’s customer communications and efforts to resolve problems. When Bilt assured the bureau it had fixed the issues, CFPB officials appear to have taken those assurances at face value, issuing a celebratory press release on the bureau’s website.
But it was what the press release said, or didn’t, that alarmed some current and former CFPB officials. Nowhere does it mention whether the bureau dispatched examiners to help locate the root of Bilt’s problems, as it would have done in the past, or whether it conducted its own audit of Bilt data to ensure every harmed consumer got relief.
Indeed, the CFPB’s statement stressed that the bureau did not open an investigation. Nor did it craft a consent decree or enforceable pledge to ensure compliance. Documentation provided by Bilt, the bureau said, “appears to show” that the company had fixed its problems and that its systems were “back on track.”
Austin Hinkle, a former supervision lawyer and section chief at the CFPB, said it’s easy for a company to identify a population of customers who were harmed, issue an apology and get them relief, as Bilt did.
Understanding what caused the issue is more complicated — and arguably just as important. In a situation like Bilt’s, Hinkle said, CFPB examiners would normally conduct a root-cause analysis, asking, for instance, which system led to the late or double-charged rent payments and why had it failed. Financial technology companies often rely on third-party processors and banks, Hinkle said, so the bureau’s investigators would also scrutinize what outside firms Bilt uses and what the communications have been with those firms.
There’s none of that depth in the CFPB’s statement, Hinkle said. “The press release just looks like they’re providing air cover for the company without directing real fixes or systematic changes.”
The lighter touch appears, so far, to be a hallmark of the Vought-era bureau. It has brought just one enforcement action since Trump took office, which ended with a consent decree and a civil penalty of $1, while dismissing or resolving dozens of cases brought during previous administrations. A CFPB supervisor warned her subordinates that they would face “most unpleasant” consequences if they were too aggressive in their work, Reuters reported. Recently, the bureau announced it would no longer include narratives in consumer complaints that appear in the CFPB’s public database.
Meanwhile, a current CFPB staffer told ProPublica that the number of policy attorneys, who help direct supervision work and identify violations of law, had shrunk from typically between 40 and 50 lawyers down to five. The staffer said that examiners were no longer allowed to access the primary source level data and could only “check the checker now,” meaning they must rely on a company’s own findings. They also faced pressure to finish examinations as fast as possible, given only three weeks to complete their work when they used to have eight weeks.
The staffer added that, as far as they knew, the first time that front-line staffers on the supervision and enforcement tracks heard of CFPB’s handling of the Bilt case was either the public statement or when Vought mentioned Bilt in his Capitol Hill testimony.
Pierce, the Protect Borrowers director, said he viewed CFPB’s treatment of Bilt as an indication that the bureau had embraced a mindset similar to what Ronald Reagan’s presidency was known for: a wholesale deregulatory approach meant to strip away regulations and oversight of companies large and small.
“It’s taking the government’s supervision and enforcement tools and figuring out how you can use them the way the Reaganites used them,” Pierce said.
Roughly two weeks after Vought’s testimony, Bilt customer Jordan Carey, a 30-year-old who works in the hospitality industry, received an alert from Credit Karma, the credit-monitoring service. His credit score had dropped 50 points in a single day. The news “sent me into a panic,” Carey said. He had stellar credit and paid off his Bilt credit card the day charges were posted. “I was thinking there is no way this is real,” he said.
Carey dug deeper and saw that the hit to his score had happened after a debt collector, Tate and Kirlin, reported a supposed long-overdue payment. And when he looked at the collections notice, he saw it listed Bilt as the cause of the error.
When he alerted Bilt’s customer service to the problem, he said, “they were not aware of the issue [and] I’m pretty sure I was one of the very first people to report it.” A Bilt customer service agent initially laid the blame with Wells Fargo and told Carey to contact the bank for help. But when he posted on Reddit about his experience, he got a different response from Bilt about the source of the problem, blaming a different banking partner. He also heard from almost a dozen other people who said they had the same issue.
Nearly 1,900 of Bilt’s customers received mistaken notices from a debt collector that said they owed hundreds or even thousands of dollars in unpaid credit card balances. On Reddit, people wrote about receiving one or multiple false collections notices, including, in one case, as the cardholder was closing on a new house.
Hinkle, the former CFPB section chief, said the more recent Bilt problem was the kind of situation the CFPB’s previous oversight model could’ve prevented or identified more quickly, instead of customers discovering the problem and self-reporting it. “The fact that there’s a seemingly related problem popping up now suggests to me that the normal supervisory process didn’t work here,” he said.
The CFPB has not made a public statement since Bilt’s second breakdown.
Bilt, for its part, said the issue had to do with an earlier iteration of its credit cards that had stopped accepting customers. The company said it alerted the collection agency in question as well as the credit bureaus to the mistake. It also awarded customers an extra 2,500 points for their trouble, worth between $25 and $50. “We held the agency accountable, made things right for every customer involved, ensured each was notified directly and provided direct customer support along with courtesy Bilt Points,” a spokesman said.
Carey said his credit score had been restored within a few days but was unimpressed by the free points; 10,000, or about $100 to $200, would have felt more appropriate. “This is a multibillion-dollar company,” he said. “They can afford it.”
The Trump Administration’s Plan for Protecting Consumers? Politely Ask Companies to Behave. was originally published by ProPublica and is republished with permission.

Teal shoes are displayed outside Naval Medical Center Portsmouth in April 2018 as part of Sexual Assault Awareness and Prevention Month.
When Mayra Diaz opened the door of her Army barracks room in 2022, she didn’t realize it was the beginning of the end of her military career.
She had never met the soldier standing in front of her, Sgt. Greville Clarke. She didn’t know he had sexually assaulted three other women on base over the past 15 months, including one he threatened at knifepoint.
Diaz remembers Clarke lifting his uniform top to show he was armed with a handgun. She can’t recall much else after he forced his way into the room, where she lived alone, and assaulted her. It wasn’t until a full day later that a friend found her on the floor with fresh bruises on her neck. Clarke went on to attack a fifth woman before he was finally caught.
In April 2025, Clarke was convicted in a court martial at Fort Hood, Texas, on 29 specifications—including rape, attempted premeditated murder, and kidnapping—for attacking five women. Not long after he was given a life sentence, in September, he died of an apparent suicide in his cell at the Army’s prison in Fort Leavenworth, Kansas, according to Stars & Stripes.
Meanwhile, Diaz soured on her dream to serve until retirement, leaving the Army just two years after she joined.
“I wanted to make it far in the military,” she said. “But I couldn’t stand being in the same uniform.”
This year, Diaz filed a claim against the Army, accusing Fort Hood leadership of failing to provide a safe environment on base. Historically, lawsuits from service members against the military have faced a near-insurmountable barrier: a legal principle known as the Feres doctrine, which bars troops from suing the government for harms incurred during military service.
A new bill in Congress could change that. The Military Sexual Trauma Accountability Act, which has bipartisan support, would allow service members to sue the military for sexual misconduct and related issues, such as failing to investigate reports of misconduct or for negligence in creating an unsafe environment where sexual assault or harassment is allowed to fester.
In 2024, the military received more than 8,000 reports of sexual assault, the majority allegedly committed by service members. That’s a decline of about 4% from the previous year. But researchers with Brown University’s Costs of War project estimate that the total number of sexual assault cases is two to four times higher than the reported cases.
“Accountability doesn’t end with the perpetrator being found guilty and going to jail,” said Josh Connolly, senior vice president of Protect Our Defenders, a nonprofit group that works to end sexual misconduct in the military.
“If the military was on the hook for millions, if not billions, of dollars,” he said, “I think that would create an incentive for the military to take this more seriously.”
When Diaz joined the Army in 2021, she was excited to see the world beyond her hometown of Fresno, California.
“I wanted to go to Germany. I wanted to go to Korea,” she said. “I wanted to do all that the military had to offer.”
Her first duty station, however, was closer to home. At basic training, Diaz learned that she would be stationed in Texas at one of the Army’s largest bases.
“Be careful,” a drill sergeant warned, ominously. “It’s Fort Hood.”
Roughly two years earlier, the dismembered remains of Spc. Vanessa Guillén had been found near a river not far from the base next to Killeen. A fellow soldier had murdered Guillén inside an armory at Fort Hood, not long after she confided to her mother that she was being sexually harassed. Guillén’s death spurred a public outcry for greater accountability and protection of women in the ranks, which led to changes in how the military prosecuted sexual misconduct cases.
But when Diaz reported to the base in 2022, she noticed that fellow soldiers still didn’t take rape and sexual harassment seriously. The culture of the Army apparently hadn’t changed much. After her own assault, for instance, a fellow soldier asked why she had opened her door.
“We’re talking about an institution that has had a tendency to blame victims,” Connolly said.
Diaz found some measure of justice within the military system when Clarke was arrested and convicted. But she still thinks the military could have done more to keep her safe. Army criminal investigators did not investigate Clarke’s first attack, and military police on base closed the case after DNA evidence proved inconclusive. But even after Clarke attacked two other women, none of Diaz’s leaders warned anyone in the barracks about the assaults, according to her legal claim.
“If we were warned properly, [then] maybe this wouldn’t have happened to me,” Diaz said. “They failed to take accountability for where they went wrong.”
Under the Federal Tort Claims Act, citizens can sue the government for negligence or wrongdoing. But Feres limits service members from bringing claims against the military for harms that are “incident to service.”
The principle, according to experts, is rooted in the idea that service members must accept some risk to join the armed forces, and that a lawsuit could undermine the military command structure. But advocates bristle at the persistent denial of claims from military sexual assault survivors due to Feres.
“What they’re saying is that being raped is somehow incident to your military service,” said Christine Dunn, Diaz’s lawyer. “Which is appalling.”
Although Feres has served for more than 70 years as a barrier to claims against the military, it hasn’t stopped some service members from trying. For decades, courts have cited Feres to dismiss most cases brought by service members against the government. But in recent years, Feres critics have sensed a shift.
In 2021, for example, the Supreme Court declined to hear a case from a West Point cadet who sued the Army for failing to keep her safe from being raped by a fellow cadet. The decision allowed the lower court’s decision to stand, which dismissed the cadet’s claim due to Feres. But Justice Clarence Thomas dissented.
“Under our precedent, if two Pentagon employees—one civilian and one a servicemember—are hit by a bus in the Pentagon parking lot and sue, it may be that only the civilian would have a chance to litigate his claim on the merits,” Thomas wrote, arguing that the Supreme Court should revisit the doctrine.
Then, two years later, the Ninth Circuit Court of Appeals agreed with a lower court’s decision on a sexual assault case against Air Force Gen. John Hyten that Feres did not apply because the assault could not be considered as “incident to [military] service.”
“It is not conceivable that his military duties would require him to sexually assault Plaintiff, or that such an assault would advance any conceivable military objective,” the lower court wrote.
The case settled out of court and the government paid the plaintiff, Col. Kathryn Spletstoser, nearly $1 million. It was the first known payment from the military in a sexual assault case against a service member.
That ruling could provide an opening to challenge the doctrine in court, said Dunn, Diaz’s lawyer. She also represents survivors in another high-profile case involving Dr. Blaine McGraw, a former gynecologist at Fort Hood and Tripler Army Medical Center in Hawaii, who is facing charges for allegedly abusing nearly 100 patients, many of whom he secretly recorded.
“When you have so many victims complaining about the exact same thing, it’s hard to argue there wasn’t some negligence,” Dunn said.
Dunn points out that Feres creates a parallel—and unequal—justice system. Both Army spouses and service members were victims of McGraw’s alleged abuse. But only the civilian spouses are able to sue the military.
“Feres has so long protected the institution and not the service member,” said Rita Graham, policy director at Service Women’s Action Network, which advocates for women in the military.
Military justice reform advocates argue that relying on courts to limit the Feres doctrine is a slow and inefficient way for survivors to get justice. They see a better path through legislation.
In 2019, Congress passed the SFC Richard Stayskal Military Medical Accountability Act, which carved out an exception to Feres for service members harmed due to negligence or wrongdoing in the military medical system.
The Military Sexual Trauma Accountability Act builds on that idea, allowing sexual misconduct survivors in the military to sue the government.
“Servicemembers give up a lot to defend this country, but they should not have to give up their right to hold the government accountable when its negligence contributes to sexual assault or harassment,” said Republican Sen. John Kennedy of Louisiana, a cosponsor of the bill with Democratic Sen. Jeanne Shaheen of New Hampshire.
Military justice reformists hailed the passage of the Military Medical Accountability Act, but implementation of the law has been anything but smooth. The law allowed service members to submit malpractice claims to the military, which are reviewed by military lawyers. But fewer than 10% of claims filed since 2020 have been approved, according to recent reporting from the military news site Task & Purpose. Even the bill’s namesake, Richard Stayskal, was denied his claim against the military for overlooking symptoms of Stage 4 lung cancer.
To avoid a similar fate, the new bill would allow sexual assault survivors to directly sue the government in civilian court, instead of filing a claim with the military.
“Just cleanly giving people the ability to go to court for an assault would be the best policy,” said Connolly, who advised lawmakers on the bill.
Survivors hope that, if passed, the bill would force the Pentagon to root out sexual misconduct in the ranks or face serious financial and reputational consequences.
“If the perpetrators are never held accountable, if the people that convince you not to really press charges aren’t held accountable, if you take it to court [martial] and they’re still not held accountable, well, then the military should be held accountable,” said Cairey Williams, a former soldier who said she had been sexually assaulted at all three bases where she was stationed after joining the Army in 2003.
“Until somebody is held accountable, it’s just going to keep going,” she said.
Ultimately, survivors and advocates say it isn’t about the money. Instead, they hope the threat of financial penalties will force the military to do more to prevent sexual assault and harassment for future generations of Americans who decide to serve.
“Regardless of them giving me money, not giving me money, I still have to live with what happened to me for the rest of my life,” Diaz said. “And as much as I could try, money can’t buy off the trauma that I go through now.”
Military Sexual Trauma Survivors Can’t Sue the Government. A New Bill Could Change That. was originally published by The War Horse, shared by The 19th, and is republished with permission.

Horizontal photo of a DEMOCRATIC PARTY FLAG with a stylized DONKEY with 3 white stars on blue top of donkey and two red feet. Flag is laying on top of a red, white, and blue American Flag.
Labels can be misleading and misused. The label "Centrist" is empowering because it signifies you are mainstream, not extreme, a place where all people can come together. To be labeled "Left" is to place you outside the mainstream, extreme; left connotes a kind of kookiness as well as—horror of horrors—Socialism.
But are the labels accurate? For most of the 20th century, the Democratic Party was, without question, the party that championed the working man, the average person—the people. But they were nevertheless firm capitalists—they were not Socialists.
All the actions government has taken to improve the opportunities and lives of working men and their families, the poor, and the elderly have been enacted by Democratic Congresses under Democratic Presidents. To name but a few of the highlights:
Workers - The National Labor Relations Act of 1935 guaranteed private-sector employees the right to organize into unions, engage in collective bargaining, and go on strike. It also prohibited unfair labor practices by employers. A Democrat-controlled Congress passed it under Democratic President FDR. That act was amended in 1947 by a Republican-controlled Congress over President Truman's veto to restrict union actions and create union unfair labor practices.
The Elderly: Social Security was passed in 1935 by the same Congress under President Roosevelt. Medicare was passed in 1965, again with both houses of Congress controlled by Democrats and Democratic President Johnson. A vocal campaigner against Medicare, on behalf of the AMA, was Ronald Reagan, who called it socialized medicine.
The Poor - Aid to Families with Dependent Children was another law that was passed in 1935, part of FDR's effort to have government help those in need and thus enable them to pursue their lives. The Food Stamp Act was passed in 1964, again by a Democratic-controlled Congress under President Johnson, part of his War on Poverty.
As a result of these laws, workers prospered and rose to become solid middle-class Americans. The elderly were more secure and independent. And the poor, while certainly still poor, gained a better standard of living and more stability. Because of their support of the worker against corporate interests and the poor, many Americans—Republicans—viewed them as "leftists."
In the 1980s, after the election of Ronald Reagan, some Democratic leaders felt that the Party needed to appeal to a broader base, and they coveted the money that flowed from corporations to the Republican Party. These Democrats formed the Democratic Leadership Council, which included Bill Clinton.
Under their influence, the Party's actions—if not its stated ideology—shifted to the Right. While still championing support for the poor, people of color, and workers, the support of industry interests was unmistakable. Whether it was Clinton's embrace of Free Trade Agreements, his signing of the Republican Congress's repeal of the Glass-Steagall Act (a depression-era regulation of banks), or Obama's lack of support for reinstating the Glass-Steagall Act after the 2008 stock market crash and resulting recession—clearly the Democratic Party was lending support to interests of industry that were against the interests of middle-class working Americans.
Now we are seeing a surge in the popularity of Democrats who are members of the Democratic Socialists of America (DSA), who champion the interests of the working man, the average person. And they are succeeding because, despite the label—"Socialist" or "left"—that "centrist" Democrats as well as MAGA Republicans apply to them, their words appeal to the mass of people who have been suffering for years under policies that take little account of their interests.
Seen in this historical light, who is "centrist" in terms of the Democratic Party? It is the Democratic DSA candidates, the Progressives, who are truly Democratic centrists. And it is the self-avowed centrists who, in terms of the Democratic Party, are right-wing.
When looking at the country as a whole, the Democratic Party is clearly left of the Republican Party—now more so than ever before—but does that mean it is leftist? In terms of our founding documents ... the Declaration of Independence and the Constitution ... the Democratic Party has been centrist in that the policies it promotes and has promoted mostly move the country closer to our founding principles. If the Democrats are considered "left," then our founding documents must be considered "left" as well.
I have argued that Democratic DSA candidates should resign from the DSA because the DSA's fundamental position is antagonistic to Democrats' fundamental beliefs and America's founding principles. It works for a "government and economy by and for the working class." That is not democracy, which is defined as government by and for all the people, not some subset. And that is not the belief of Bernie Sanders, Zohran Mamdani, Abdul El-Sayed, or most, if not all, of the other candidates who are members of the DSA. (See my article, "The Democratic Socialists of America Is Not What It Seems.")
A generation of Democrats has been conditioned to think of themselves as "centrists," Democrats in the mold of Bill Clinton and Barack Obama—great Americans, great Democrats, and fervent supporters of the people, but they tried to have their cake and eat it too. They got into bed with corporate America, and the result was the inevitable growth of corporate influence and interests in shaping Democratic policies.
This shift to the right must end. It has hurt the American people, especially the blue-collar worker, and it has hurt the Party. 50.1% of U.S households had incomes under $75,000 in 2022. If Democrats want to once again become the majority party, then these are the people, both urban and rural, that the Party must appeal to, in addition to suburban women and liberals of all stations. And these are the people who are the natural constituents of the Party. Yes, even the rural poor and middle class; they may traditionally vote Republican, but they will be natural Democratic voters once the Party gets beyond the culture labels. See my article, "Winning the Rural Vote: A New Approach for the Democratic Party."
Bottom line, the Democratic Party has always been, and should remain, a big tent, with its central goal being to give all people an equal opportunity to pursue their right to life, liberty, and happiness. Whether one is more conservative in their approach, you are still a Democrat. If you are more radical in your approach, you are still a Democrat. The main thing is that we all agree on the Party's mission to pursue that goal, and that all the Party's policies must support that goal and serve the people's interests. (See my article, "Can the Democratic Party Still Lead?")
We must return to the fundamentals of the Party, just as we must return to our founding principles as expressed in the Declaration of Independence, if America is to be saved from becoming an ever-increasing land of inequality rather than one of increasing equality. The Party must stand for, as Abraham Lincoln put it, "government of the people, by the people, and for the people."
Ronald L. Hirsch is a teacher, legal aid lawyer, survey researcher, nonprofit executive, consultant, composer, author, and volunteer. He is a graduate of Brown University and the University of Chicago Law School and the author of We Still Hold These Truths. Read more of his writing at www.PreservingAmericanValues.com
Polls show a majority of Americans disapprove of how Immigration and Customs Enforcement (ICE) is doing its job, with outrage stoked by a surge in immigration arrests across the country and multiple killings by federal immigration officials. In many places, residents are against their state and local officials cooperating with immigration authorities. And many local law enforcement leaders argue that cooperating with federal immigration enforcement operations undermines public safety by taking resources away from local priorities and eroding communities’ trust in law enforcement.
Trump administration officials have repeatedly argued that states and localities are legally obligated to cooperate with federal immigration enforcement efforts. They have also warned that state and local laws limiting cooperation with ICE will be met with harsh crackdowns.
But by and large, states and localities have the authority to decide whether and how their officials cooperate with federal immigration enforcement. The legal questions around these decisions are explored below.
No federal law requires states and localities to cooperate with ICE. Instead, state law often governs the extent of cooperation.
But where state law is silent, state and local officials have discretion to manage law enforcement operations to meet their communities’ needs. That means they may decide whether to collect information about immigration status; how much information, if any, to share with ICE; and whether to comply with ICE requests to hold detained people until federal agents can transfer them into federal custody. Any jurisdictions that wish to cooperate can enter into agreements authorizing their officers to carry out all manner of immigration enforcement activities.
No. In our federal system, federal and state governments each have independent sources of authority and their own power to make and enforce laws within their spheres. The Constitution’s Supremacy Clause says that valid federal law is supreme over conflicting state law. But the federal government’s power is limited: The 10th Amendment confirms that the states (and the people) hold all powers the Constitution does not explicitly grant to the federal government. This reservation of power has been interpreted as banning federal “commandeering” of state policymaking. In other words, the federal government “can’t tell a state what its policy on a particular topic will be,” Georgetown University Law Professor Steve Vladeck has explained. It also “can’t require local or state law enforcement officers to enforce federal law.”
This means that, like everyone else, state and local officials may not violate federal law, and there are some general federal laws that may be applied to state and local actions in the immigration context. For example, federal law prohibits obstructing federal proceedings. A Wisconsin judge was recently convicted of obstruction after instructing the target of an ICE search to exit through a restricted courthouse door. But no federal law requires state or local cooperation with ICE or other federal officials. Any such law would almost certainly violate the 10th Amendment.
One immigration-specific federal law purports to govern state and local policymaking: Section 1373 of Title 8 of the U.S. Code prohibits states and localities from enacting laws that limit their employees from sharing immigration status with the Department of Homeland Security (DHS), which houses ICE. But Section 1373’s scope is very narrow; its restriction on laws that would limit sharing one type of information imposes no requirement that states or localities share information or otherwise cooperate with immigration enforcement.
Long cited by conservatives in support of arguments to limit the power of the federal government, the U.S. Supreme Court has relied on the 10th Amendment to strike down federal environmental and gun control laws. The U.S. Supreme Court has yet to definitely decide how the 10th Amendment applies in the debate over state and local cooperation with federal immigration enforcement.
Several federal lower courts have held that Section 1373, the statute barring state and local laws that limit sharing immigration statuses with ICE, violates the 10th Amendment. Section 1373 “regulate[s] state and local governmental entities and officials, which is fatal to [its] constitutionality,” a federal judge in Pennsylvania said in 2018.
While the constitutionality of Section 1373 has not definitively been resolved, almost all federal appellate courts agree on one point: The federal government may not condition federal funds on compliance with Section 1373. President Trump’s executive order doing just that during his first administration was struck down by four of the five circuit courts that considered the issue. The administration lacked the statutory authority to impose immigration-related conditions on the grants in question, the courts said. Only the U.S. Court of Appeals for the Second Circuit read the grant-making statute to authorize that constraint.
The federal government has also filed numerous lawsuits challenging state and local laws limiting cooperation with federal immigration enforcement. These cases are ongoing, but most initial rulings have sided with the state and local governments invoking the 10th Amendment to justify their policies. Last month, a federal judge rejected the administration’s challenge to Minnesota’s “sanctuary” policies, confirming that “refusing to help” ICE is a state’s prerogative.
States and localities are also making claims under the 10th Amendment in affirmative litigation challenging federal immigration enforcement measures. After ICE agents in Minneapolis killed Renee Good and Alexander Pretti and gravely injured Alberto Castañeda Mondragón, Minnesota and the cities of Minneapolis and St. Paul filed a lawsuit arguing that the administration’s enforcement surge was an attempt to coerce them into adopting federal policy priorities that would commandeer state and local law enforcement resources. Citing the unprecedented nature of the claims raised in the case, a federal judge declined to temporarily block the ICE deployment, though she emphasized that her order did not signal the federal government would ultimately prevail in that lawsuit.
Beyond Section 1373’s narrow limitation, states and localities have considerable flexibility to formulate their own policies around law enforcement cooperation with ICE, including information collecting and sharing. Some jurisdictions, such as Oregon and Illinois, have adopted laws that prevent law enforcement agencies from asking about or collecting information about immigration status. Supporters say the laws build community trust necessary for public safety and allow local police to use their resources to stop violent crime rather than to enforce federal immigration law.
States and localities can also decide when and whether to share information with federal agencies. As a general practice, local police routinely share basic information with the federal government when anyone, regardless of citizenship status, is arrested, even though they are not legally required to do so. This information can be accessed by DHS for use in immigration enforcement.
This information-sharing practice began after the September 11 attacks through Secure Communities, a program devised to prioritize the removal of individuals already in the custody of criminal law enforcement agencies. While the program no longer exists by that name, the basic structure remains: State and local law enforcement agencies, which lack comprehensive biometric databases, send fingerprints to the FBI, which checks them against its extensive Next Generation Information system for identity and criminal history.
In a process that does not involve localities, the FBI passes those fingerprints and additional identifying information to DHS. The FBI-to-DHS system, known as interoperability, provides ICE with a wealth of information about immigrants — including dates and places of birth, photographs, and immigration status — even in so-called sanctuary jurisdictions. Other federal–state cooperation structures, like fusion centers, have also given DHS access to troves of state and local law enforcement data.
No. States and localities have broad latitude to decide whether to comply with requests from ICE to notify the agency before releasing someone from state or local custody or to hold the person for up to two additional days so that federal officials can take custody. These requests are known as immigration detainers. Historically, most people detained by ICE have been taken directly from local jails, often through the use of immigration detainers. But prison or jail officials who decline to honor detainer requests have not violated federal law.
Federal and state courts have repeatedly ruled that local law enforcement need not follow detainer requests absent a state law requiring them to do so. For example, in Galarza v. Szalczyk, the U.S. Court of Appeals for the Third Circuit held that “immigration detainers do not and cannot compel a state or local law enforcement agency to detain suspected aliens subject to removal.” This conclusion, the court said, was based on “settled constitutional law,” including the 10th Amendment’s anticommandeering principles. “Essentially, the federal government cannot command the government agencies of the states to imprison persons of interest to federal officials,” the court explained.
Immigration detainers also raise concerns under the Fourth Amendment, which guarantees “the right of the people to be secure in their persons, houses, papers, and effects, against unreasonable searches and seizures.” Holding people in custody beyond the terms of their sentences amounts to a new seizure, which generally requires a warrant based on probable cause, issued by a neutral adjudicator. In 2013, U.S. citizen Gerardo Gonzalez, representing a class of individuals subject to immigration detainers, sued ICE for Fourth Amendment violations after he was held by the Los Angeles Sheriff’s Department pursuant to an immigration detainer issued on the faulty premise that he had entered the country illegally. In 2024, DHS agreed to a settlement requiring a neutral probable cause review for all detainers, performed by federal personnel “housed within DHS,” “with a strong preference” that reviewers have relevant legal experience, “preferably as an immigration judge, appellate immigration judge, or administrative law judge.”
Still, due in part to continued concerns over the constitutionality of the practice, some states — including California, Colorado, Connecticut, Illinois, and Oregon — have adopted laws forbidding unconditional compliance with ICE detainers. State courts in Massachusetts and New York, meanwhile, have barred local law enforcement from complying with detainers, interpreting state law to prohibit such cooperation. Many of these statutes include exceptions for individuals convicted of serious or violent crimes. California, for example, bars keeping immigrants in custody beyond the term of their sentence on a civil detainer request from ICE, but it requires corrections facilities to work with DHS to transfer custody of undocumented immigrants convicted of felonies. Indeed, a recent New York Times analysis found that even states that have bans on cooperation with ICE regularly turn over people convicted of serious crimes to the agency.
On the other hand, some states — including Arkansas, Florida, Georgia, Louisiana, North Carolina, Tennessee, and Texas — have enacted laws requiring local law enforcement to comply with ICE detainer requests. Where state law does not explicitly speak to compliance with immigration detainers, local jurisdictions may decide whether they will cooperate.
State and local governments can decide to enter into 287(g) agreements — named for the section of the federal immigration law that authorizes them — to delegate various immigration enforcement duties to state and local officials. Federal law is clear, however, that no state or local jurisdiction is required to enter such an agreement.
Some states, including Georgia and Tennessee, have passed laws requiring localities to enter into 287(g) agreements. Other states, such as Illinois and New York, have passed laws forbidding them. Where state law is silent, the decision about whether to enter into a 287(g) agreement rests with local officials.
There are three kinds of 287(g) agreements, categorized based on the level of support a locality provides. The warrant service officer model provides the lowest level of support, giving local police only the authority to issue administrative warrants to noncitizens while they are still in local jails, eliminating the need for DHS to issue detainers. The jail enforcement model authorizes state and local police to perform the full range of immigration enforcement actions, such as interrogating people to determine their immigration status or facilitating their transfer to ICE custody, but only while they are working in their local jails. Finally, nearly 60 percent of 287(g) agreements follow the task force model, fully deputizing local law enforcement to take on all federal immigration officers’ duties, including making arrests, conducting warrantless searches in public places, and issuing detainers.
In 2025, Congress authorized unprecedented reimbursements to local law enforcement agencies that enter task force model 287(g) agreements. Not only does the federal government pay the salaries, benefits, and overtime of state and local 287(g) officers; it also promises “quarterly monetary performance awards” to locate undocumented immigrants, although the exact bases for the bonuses are not specified. Florida’s highway patrol, for example, received $13.6 million last year.
Empirical evidence suggests that these incentives lead to increased racial profiling and civil rights violations. A recent ACLU report described hundreds of incidents of local officers pulling over and arresting people they thought were undocumented, apparently based on appearance, many of which were likely efforts to fulfill the terms of their 287(g) agreements. In May 2025, for example, Florida highway patrol and federal border patrol agents stopped a car carrying people who appeared Latino, and a video shows the officers dragging a passenger by the neck, tasing him, arresting a teenage citizen, and laughing about a $30,000 bonus, presumably referring to federal incentives.
The incentives have also increased the number of 287(g) agreements in place across the country: There are now 2,315, up from 45 in 2019 during Trump’s first term. Each 287(g) agreement adds personnel to supplement ICE’s roughly 20,000 officials, making the program a significant force multiplier for the agency. Even so, with more than 17,000 local law enforcement agencies in the country, the vast majority of jurisdictions have not entered into one.
Kathrina Szymborski Wolfkot is the managing editor of State Court Report and a senior counsel and manager in the Judiciary Program at the Brennan Center for Justice.
Margy O’Herron is a senior fellow in the Brennan Center’s Liberty and National Security Program.
Samson Tu is a student at NYU Law School. He previously participated in the Brennan Center’s Public Policy Advocacy Clinic.