In this video from Healing Race, Andre and Todd reflect on their conversation in the first episode, discussing the parallels between Black and Jewish histories of discrimination and hate and how they think about those histories when it comes to our country today. Andre asks Todd about times when he’s felt fears for his own safety and relate his stories to his experience as a Black man in this country.
Site Navigation
Search
Latest Stories
Join a growing community committed to civic renewal.
Subscribe to The Fulcrum and be part of the conversation.
Top Stories
Latest news
Read More

white printer paper on white table
Photo by Tiffany Tertipes on Unsplash
Oregon Pioneered Vote-by-Mail. Its Ballot Access Laws Are Still in the Covered Wagon Era.
May 27, 2026
Oregon's primary election was on May 19. Neither of the two major-party candidates in Oregon's 6th Congressional District faced a primary opponent. They'll automatically advance to November's general election ballot, without a single voter really needing to weigh in, without collecting a single petition signature, and without knocking on a single door. The Democratic incumbent represents a party that accounts for 29.75 percent of registered voters in this district. The Republican nominee represents a party with 24.78 percent of the vote. Together, the two parties represent a minority of OR-6's electorate, and both of their candidates are already on the November ballot.
I represent the largest voting bloc in this district. Nearly 40 percent of OR-6's registered voters are unaffiliated, more than either party. These voters have never had a candidate who answers only to them—not to party bosses, party lines, or special interests. I am trying to be that candidate. And I am still on the porch, clipboard in hand, collecting the 5,500 hand-signed paper petitions I will need just to guarantee that my name appears beside theirs in November.
This is the same Oregon that has been a national pioneer in election innovation for over four decades. Oregon approved all-mail voting by a nearly 70 percent margin in 1998. In 2000, it became the first state in the nation to conduct a presidential general election entirely by mail. In 2019, it became the first state to offer free return postage on ballots. Oregon did not stumble into these reforms. Its voters demanded them, its officials championed them, and the rest of the country eventually followed. Oregon's election infrastructure is, by any reasonable measure, among the most forward-thinking in the United States.
And yet: to place an independent candidate on the congressional ballot in Oregon in 2026, you need a pen, paper, a clipboard, and someone willing to open their front door.
Consider that Oregon and the rest of the country already use digital identity verification for highly sensitive matters. Things like opening a bank account, boarding a plane, accessing medical records, filing taxes, signing a lease, applying for a mortgage, and myriad other things. Some airline passengers now clear airport gates through facial recognition without ever showing a boarding pass. The list keeps growing every year. But to demonstrate that a citizen of Oregon wants a candidate on a congressional ballot, you need a pen, paper, and someone willing to open the front door.
The signature requirement is a relic. The world it was designed for no longer exists. And the physical reality of meeting it has become dramatically harder, because the spaces where you could once gather signatures efficiently have largely been closed off.
In an earlier era, the public square was literal, a place where people gathered, where civic life happened in person, where a candidate or a cause could meet voters where they actually were. That square is now digital. It is social media, email, text messages, and online communities. That is where people interact, share information, and engage with the world around them. I can reach a voter online, capture their interest, and have them tell me they want to sign my petition in just a few seconds. But then I have to send someone to their door with a clipboard, because the law requires a physical signature on a Secretary of State-approved form, with hand-printed name, date, and address, including ZIP code, in the space provided, in apparently subjectively legible handwriting, or the signature will not count. The interest was digital, yet the follow-through regressed to analog. We make a U-turn from the 21st century back to the 19th every time we try to collect a valid signature.
Those forms, by the way, are not designed with generosity. The space allotted for each required element is tight enough that missing even one field, or having a single element ruled illegible by the Secretary of State's office, invalidates that signature entirely. The nominal requirement for OR-6 is 3,532 valid signatures from registered voters in the district. In practice, accounting for the inevitable invalids, I need to collect between 5,000 and 5,500 total signatures to be confident of clearing the threshold. And while the certification deadline is August 25, the Secretary of State's office recommends submitting well in advance to allow time for manual review and validation, without specifying how far in advance. We are left to guess.
That lead time and those people-hours of manual review could be eliminated almost entirely by digital identity verification. The same technology that confirms who you are before you board a flight could confirm who you are before you sign a petition. Oregon, of all states, would know how to implement it. Oregon has been implementing election innovation since before most of the country believed it was possible.
The places where you could once gather signatures in volume are also largely inaccessible. Grocery stores, shopping malls, big-box retailers: all privately owned, all within their rights to remove you, and most of them will. I can speak to this from personal experience. What remains is door-to-door canvassing, and in 2026, that means contending with 'No Soliciting' signs on a substantial share of front doors, Ring and Nest cameras on most of the rest, and a reasonable reluctance among most people to open their door to a stranger. The legal mechanism for putting an independent candidate on the ballot now depends almost entirely on strangers opening doors to strangers, at a moment in history when almost nobody does.
None of this is accidental. Ballot access laws were written by the two major parties and serve the two major parties. The barrier to entry is not a neutral inconvenience. It is a structural moat maintained by the same political establishment that benefits from keeping it in place. Professional petition circulator firms exist to solve this problem, and they work, but given an average collection rate of around 12 signatures per hour at a base rate of $20 per hour plus per-signature bonuses, the cost to simply become an option on a ballot for this race runs between $13,000 and $15,000. A party-backed candidate has the party's infrastructure. An incumbent doesn't need to gather signatures at all. The barrier falls hardest on the one category of candidate the system most needs and least wants: the credible, well-qualified political outsider.
Ballot access is only one layer. Campaign finance rules, debate access criteria, media coverage patterns, and electoral infrastructure were all shaped by people with strong incentives to make the system resistant to disruption. Major-party candidates benefit from party fundraising infrastructure, coordinated spending, and institutional name recognition. Independent candidates start with none of that. Oregon's primary was on May 19, but because I am not a party candidate, it was irrelevant to my campaign. I do not get the earned media that comes with a contested primary, the donor energy, or the voter attention. Instead, I have been collecting signatures while the clock runs. My campaign's limited early resources are going toward ballot access rather than voter outreach, advertising, or organizing. The compressed timeline that results, Oregon's primary is among the latest in the country, which means the window between the primary and the general is shorter than almost anywhere else, making an already steep climb even steeper.
There is also a quieter problem, and it may be the most consequential one. For years, conventional wisdom has held that voting for an independent is throwing your vote away. That assumption has shaped behavior at every level: how the media covers independent candidates, how donors evaluate them, how voters think about their own choices. What most voters do not know, because the two major parties have no interest in telling them, is that the electorate has been moving steadily away from both parties for years. Nationally and in Oregon, voters have been registering as unaffiliated in growing numbers, election cycle after election cycle, as the major parties have grown more extreme, more gridlocked, and more loyal to their own institutional survival than to the people they were elected to serve. In OR-6, that trend has produced an electorate in which unaffiliated voters are the largest bloc. The math has already changed. The conventional wisdom has not caught up.
When I gather signatures and talk to voters about these numbers, that independent voters are nearly 40 percent of this district, more than either party, I watch something shift. People did not know. They assumed they were the exception, the outlier, the lone dissenter. Finding out they are the majority changes the calculation entirely. If independent voters in OR-6 vote as a bloc for a candidate who actually represents them, the independent candidate wins. The math works. What has been missing is a candidate worth coalescing around.
My opponent raised $3.3 million in her last campaign. Ninety-three percent came from outside the district she represents. Nearly sixty percent came from outside Oregon altogether, from national PACs, financial industry donors, and D.C. lobbying organizations, some of them foreign government-backed. Her voting record reflects the priorities of national Democratic leadership, not the politically diverse district she represents. She had no difficulty getting on the ballot. She did not need to.
I am a combat veteran with nearly 27 years of military service and a Bronze Star. I am a healthcare executive and a professor at the OHSU-PSU School of Public Health. I founded a nonprofit that helped bring more than 150 Iraqi and Afghan interpreters to safety after their service alongside American forces, a work commended on the floor of the United States Senate by both a Republican and a Democratic senator. I have never held elected office. I have never answered a party caucus. Not a single member of Oregon's current congressional delegation has served in the military. I would be the only one.
People ask why qualified outsiders don't run for Congress. The answer is that the system is not designed to let them through. Ballot access, fundraising requirements, media infrastructure, debate rules: each layer filters candidates with party backing and donor networks, while filtering out almost everyone else. This is not an incidental outcome. The rules were written by people who benefit from keeping outsiders out.
Oregon's 6th is a test case. If the largest voting bloc in this district, voters who are already tired of choosing between two parties they don't trust, can find out that a genuinely strong independent candidate exists and decide to vote for their actual interests, something changes. Not just here. The math supports it. Whether the system allows them to find out in time is a different question.
For now, I'm on a porch with a clipboard, waiting for someone to answer the door — literally.
Jason Faler is a combat veteran, Bronze Star recipient, healthcare executive, and professor at the OHSU-PSU School of Public Health. He is running as an independent candidate for Oregon's 6th Congressional District in November 2026. Learn more at FalerForCongress.com.
Keep ReadingShow less
Recommended
Why Trump’s $2 Billion Buyoff To Cancel Offshore Wind Farms Is a Bad Deal for American Taxpayers and the US Energy Supply
May 27, 2026
The U.S. is in a bizarre situation in 2026: It’s facing a looming energy shortage, yet the Trump administration is making deals to pay offshore wind developers nearly US$2 billion in taxpayer money to walk away from energy projects.
These politically motivated moves are costing Americans far more than just the buyouts.
Communities have been laying the groundwork for offshore energy projects for years. Offshore wind development brings jobs and economic development that reshape regional economies, with the scale of public and private investment reaching into the hundreds of billions of dollars over years. East Coast communities have built up ports to support the industry and launched job-training programs to prepare workers. Construction, maintenance and shipping businesses have sprung up, along with secondary businesses that support the industry.
Offshore wind farms bring jobs and economic development. State Pier in New London, Conn., serves as a staging site for wind farm construction and supplies. AP Photo/Ted ShaffreyLosing the projects, and the threat of losing other planned wind farms, will also likely mean higher energy prices. And while some offshore wind farms are moving ahead, developers must account for both lost momentum and increased uncertainty from the Trump administration.
As a result, Americans will bear the economic brunt of these decisions for decades ahead.
How America got to this point
To understand how the U.S. arrived in this predicament, let’s take a step back.
In March 2023, leaders from three U.S. federal agencies under the Biden administration met with the CEOs from American technology and manufacturing giants Microsoft, Amazon, Ford, GM, Dow Chemical and GE at the annual ARPA-E Energy Innovation Summit, under the banner of “Affordable, Reliable and Secure American-Made Energy”.
They agreed on a key point: The nation was staring down a severe shortage of electrons to drive American business forward.
Fortunately, solutions abounded. Enormous amounts of onshore wind and solar power had been deployed during the previous five years. More than 80% of all new power additions to the U.S. grid had come from these two sources.
Particularly exciting were plans to build large offshore wind farms up and down the Eastern Seaboard. Taken together, the wind farms would generate 30 gigawatts of new power by 2030, enough to power more than 10 million homes and reduce volatility in energy pricing thanks to long-term power purchase agreements.
The U.S. had one small wind farm at the time, off Rhode Island, and two wind turbines off Virginia, but Europe had been operating large offshore wind projects for over two decades and was building more.
In the months following the 2023 meeting, leasing and permitting for the U.S. mega projects continued, and in some areas construction got underway.
A map of offshore wind lease areas shows how many companies have paid the U.S. to lease areas of ocean for offshore wind farms. A few wind farms off New England are already operating. The lease areas where the Trump administration used taxpayer money to persuade companies to drop their wind farm plans include two TotalEnergies leases – Attentive Energy, off New Jersey, and a lease area off South Carolina – and Bluepoint Wind, also off New Jersey. U.S. Bureau of Ocean Energy Management
Then, the Trump administration arrived in 2025. As president, Donald Trump immediately issued an executive order to halt offshore wind lease sales and any approvals, permits or loans for wind farms. He had made his disdain for wind power clear ever since he lost a fight to stop construction of a small wind farm near his golf course in Scotland in the 2010s.
After a federal judge declared Trump’s executive order unconstitutional in December 2025, the administration shifted strategies.
In March 2026, news outlets began reporting on deals struck in which the federal government would pay three offshore wind project developers hundreds of millions of dollars to cease development of their permitted projects, agree not to build others and repurpose the funds toward fossil fuel projects.
According to reported discussions involving the French energy company TotalEnergies, the money would be paid out through the Department of Interior’s Judgment Fund, intended for payment of legal settlements, despite there not being any active litigation with TotalEnergies.
The other projects agreeing to Trump’s buyouts as of early May were Golden State Wind, in California, and Bluepoint Wind, off New Jersey and New York. Both are co-owned by Ocean Winds, a joint venture of the French energy company Engie and EDP Renewables, headquartered in Spain. The California Energy Commission and members of Congress are now investigating the moves.
Offshore wind means local investment
Regardless of whether these buyouts are even legal, the losing parties will be the American taxpayers and a U.S. economy that needs more electrons on the grid, not fewer.
One analysis projected that deploying 40 GW along the U.S. East Coast by 2035 would generate roughly $140 billion in investment, much of it concentrated in port infrastructure and supply chain development.
New York in early 2026 announced a $300 million state grant program to expand port infrastructure supporting offshore wind. And the New Jersey Wind Port represents an investment exceeding $600 million to enable manufacturing and assembly of turbines.
Workers in New London, Conn., prepare a generator and its blades for transport to South Fork Wind’s offshore wind farm in 2023. To build an offshore wind farm requires manufacturing jobs, parts suppliers, dockworkers, crane operators, ship crews, as well as the wind farm construction crews and maintenance teams and many more businesses and their employees. AP Photo/Seth WenigIn 2025, California state lawmakers authorized $225.7 million in spending for offshore wind ports and related facilities.
For these projects to pay off for local communities, however, the regions will need to see the development of wind farms.
Killing jobs
The cancellations of the planned projects also take jobs away from hard-working, blue-collar Americans.
The construction and installation of offshore wind turbines requires the expertise of skilled electrical workers, pipe fitters, welders, pile drivers, iron workers, machinists and carpenters.
Future offshore wind costs depend on investments today. As infrastructure is established and expertise grows, each subsequent project becomes easier to build, less risky and less expensive.
This pattern is already evident globally: The levelized cost of electricity from offshore wind globally fell by 62% between 2010 and 2024.
Canceling projects or buying back leases eliminates the electricity those projects would have generated. It also slows the accumulation of experience, scale and supply chain maturity that drive costs down over time.
The result is higher costs for future projects and for electricity ratepayers.
An energy crisis
Developing a robust offshore wind industry provides resilience in the face of an unstable global energy market.
Future U.S. and global energy demand is projected to grow significantly, largely driven by the rapid expansion of AI data centers and electrification of vehicles, homes and businesses.
Limiting the supply of homegrown energy will increase energy costs for Americans, especially in the regions where the wind farms were supposed to be located – New York, New Jersey, North Carolina and California.
With the federal buyouts, the U.S. is losing 8 GW of planned electricity generation, enough to power more than 3 million homes. That generation needs to be replaced by other energy sources and expanding power transmission lines that can take seven to 10 years to get permits for and build out. The leased projects were on their way to providing new clean power generation fairly quickly. Eliminating them restarts the project clock.
Reliance on dirtier, conventional forms of power generation will increase along with foreign energy imports, such as electricity delivered from Canada to New York, leading to higher and more volatile electricity prices.
Evidence from Europe shows that offshore wind can also reduce electricity costs for consumers by lowering wholesale prices and reducing dependence on fossil fuels and their volatile prices.
Vineyard Wind I, an offshore wind farm completed in 2026, with 806 MW of generation – enough to power about 400,000 homes – is projected to save Massachusetts customers about $1.4 billion on electricity bills over the next 20 years. With a fixed-price, 20-year contract, the project also lowered prices during cold snaps and peak demand for gas, reducing volatility and cost.
From jobs to local economic development to power costs, we believe canceling these offshore wind projects is a bad deal for American taxpayers.
Why Trump’s $2 Billion Buyoff To Cancel Offshore Wind Farms Is a Bad Deal for American Taxpayers and the US Energy Supply was originally published by The Conversation and is republished with permission.
Keep ReadingShow less

closeup photo of United States of America flag
Photo by Jakob Owens on Unsplash
I’m Not Optimistic About America at 250. I’m Still Hopeful.
May 26, 2026
I grew up in a place called Freedom.
Freedom, Pennsylvania, to be exact. In the borough of Economy. My high school is in a town named after the American Bridge Company. The son of an Army veteran and a nurse. A literal white picket fence. Family of five. A dog. The American Dream by many measures.
Nearly 40 years later, I'm not sure I believe in that American Dream. And I'm not alone in that doubt. This year, the United States will celebrate 250 years of independence — with fireworks, reenactments, and the familiar stories of founders and freedom. But for a lot of us, the milestone lands differently. Not as a celebration, exactly. More like a question we can't stop asking.
Independence from what? And for whom?
I've watched the definition of freedom narrow in my lifetime. I've felt the quiet suggestion — sometimes subtle, sometimes loud — that people like me are outside the frame of what this country was meant to be. And yet, queer people have always been here. In towns like mine. In families like mine. Serving, building, showing up. We were never separate from the American story; we were just edited out.
When I say I'm not sure I believe in the American Dream, I mean: I'm not sure the version I was handed was ever the whole truth. What I'm still reaching for is something underneath it — a possibility that requires participation, friction, and revision. Something that asks more from us than nostalgia.
Which brings me to hope. And how hard it is to hold onto right now. Author and civil rights activist James Baldwin once wrote, Hope — the hope that we, human beings, can be better than we are — dies hard; perhaps one can no longer live if one allows that hope to die. But it is also hard to see what one sees. Published in 1972. It could have been written this morning.
Baldwin isn't asking us to be naive. He's acknowledging the weight of seeing clearly, and choosing hope anyway. That distinction matters. Hope isn't wishful thinking. Its orientation. It's preparation. It's a practice of becoming the kind of person capable of the world you're working toward. That reframe feels important to me as I sit with the contradictions of this anniversary. I don't know if I believe in the American Dream the way I was taught to. But I do believe in the possibility of this place — and I think that belief requires me to keep acting like it's real, even when the evidence is hard to look at.
Joan Didion writes: I'm not optimistic, darling, but I'm hopeful. There's a difference. I'm hopeful.
That's what I'm aiming for. Not optimism. Optimism feels too easy, too untethered from the weight of what's actually happening. Something harder than that. Hope as a discipline. Hope is a form of showing up.
If this country is going to celebrate 250 years, let it be honest about who's been here the whole time — building it, serving it, loving it enough to expect more from it. That's not cynicism. That's the most patriotic thing I know how to do.
That, to me, feels like what it means to grow up in Freedom.
And to choose, still, to hope.
Joshua Lavra is a 2026 Public Voices Fellow of the Op-Ed Project Public Voices Fellowship on Youth Well-Being and Power with Hopelap.
Keep ReadingShow less

An analysis of gun violence, political extremism, Islamophobia, and community resilience in America after the San Diego Islamic Center shooting.
GemaIbarra / Getty Images
Trump Is Protecting Insurrectionists But Not Your Kids
May 26, 2026
Last Monday, two teenage gunmen opened fire outside the Islamic Center of San Diego, murdering three Muslim men. Unfortunately, this is the type of horror Americans have been conditioned to expect. After years of political stagnation on gun safety and ongoing hateful acts of violence, our president has signaled once again to children, to the Muslim community, and to everyone else: he does not care if you get shot.
Gun violence has been on the rise in the United States for too long. Perhaps the most harrowing consequence is that gun violence is now the leading cause of death among children. Whether from school shootings, homicides, suicides, or accidents, the gun-death rate for children is nearly five in every 100,000. In fact, the number of domestic deaths due to gun violence is about as many as U.S. military deaths in every war since World War I combined. More children have been lost to gun violence since 2020 than troops lost since 9/11. Yet even with such a striking death toll—and one affecting children no less—happening on our own soil, Vice President J.D. Vance calls it a “fact of life.”
If an ever-present fear of gun violence exists among American families, then we are living in an era marked by terror. When school shootings become the price of doing business, children may reasonably fear going to school, and parents may reasonably fear sending them. In fact, in 2022, a survey showed that almost half of all parents were worried about their children getting shot. Vice President Vance recommends bolstering security at schools as a remedy, but when the solution involves developing security plans that resemble those of military bases, maybe we should be talking about gun violence as the national security threat it is.
Though gun lobbyists say, “Guns don’t kill people. People kill peopleuns don’t kill people. People kill people,” as a means of misdirection, it may still be worth considering what is driving these people to kill. The answer lies heavily in a President who has been making racist, xenophobic, and Islamophobic attacks since before he was ever elected to anything. Now, he has the power to codify his malice (Trump v. Hawaii is just Korematsu in disguise) and deputize it (earlier this year in San Diego, Somali daycare providers–many of whom are Muslim–were harassed and threatened; the California Attorney General called the tactics “straight out of the Trumpian playbook”). As of Friday, Trump announced green card seekers are going to have to go back to their home countries to apply, while just this past week, Colorado law enforcement flagged that ICE’s recruitment tactics were using neo-Nazi symbology so blatantly that they feared white supremacists might take the content as a call to violence. These aren’t dog whistles, these are cat calls—with real consequences.
Trump has no interest in dousing the flames of hate; he prefers to fan them. He has no interest in funding social and mental health services; he prefers to cut them. And of course, he refuses to regulate the means of violence often used to execute this hatred. One of the San Diego shooters was previously flagged by the FBI; with better gun laws, these murders would never have happened.
The President’s selectively applied grief reveals his true priorities. Following the assassination of MAGA influencer Charlie Kirk last September, Trump established a National Day of Remembrance, and many Americans were summarily fired for failing to show adequate deference. Yet when innocent children were threatened, and when innocent protectors of those children were murdered in a fury emboldened by the executive’s own racial animus, the President could barely feign sympathy, offering a detached: “It’s a terrible situation...we’re going to be going back and looking at it very strongly.”
The President does not mind the expense or burden of federal intervention when it comes to his own safety. Just last month, he leveraged the presence of a gunman floors away from him at a hotel to demand that taxpayers foot the bill for his own personal, military-grade security infrastructure (read: his ballroom). He has consistently used the power of his office to protect his ideological allies, issuing pardons to those who attacked the Capitol and recently creating a $1.8 billion slush fund to pay out reparations to insurrectionists that looks more like an advance down payment for future incidents. One pardoned January 6th rioter has already gone on to molest two children whom he then attempted to silence with promised hush money that “he [hoped] to get from [the] slush fund.” If you are Donald Trump or willing to commit acts of violence that serve his interests, you are shielded. If you are a child in a classroom or a minority in a house of worship, you are on your own.
On that note, we may have been grieving another massacre of innocent children last week if it were not for Amin Abdullah, Mansour Kaziha, and Nader Awad, three men who stood in the crossfire to protect them. As San Diego City Councilmember Sean Elo-Rivera noted at a vigil at the Islamic Center last week, echoing Imam Taha: “Amin, Nader, and Mansour were the best of us. And they repelled evil.” To honor the memories of these three neighbors–these heroes–may we harness our own capacity to help others. Our president may be trying to lead us into a post-compassion era, but we are not obligated to follow.
In the absence of federal leadership or even basic empathy from the White House, we must become the defenders of our own communities. Comprehensive federal action may be stalled, but we can focus our energy locally. Municipal policies can help curb access to dangerous weapons and expand funding for mental health services. Plus, we as individuals can model unifying, community-building rhetoric and action, and work to elevate leaders who do too. If our compassion is to serve as the final line of defense, then we must work together to reinforce it.Julie Roland was a Naval Officer for ten years, deploying to both the South China Sea and the Persian Gulf as a helicopter pilot before separating in June 2025 as a Lieutenant Commander. She has a law degree from the University of San Diego, a Master of Laws from Columbia University, and is a member of the Truman National Security Project.
Keep ReadingShow less
Load More


















Some MAGA loyalists have turned on Trump. Why the rest haven’t