The Institute for Local Government promotes good government at the local level with practical, impartial and easy-to-use resources for California communities. The Institute envisions a future in California in which: People value their local public institutions. Local agencies effectively deliver public services. All segments of the community are appropriately engaged in key public decisions. Decision-makers make informed policy choices based on their best sense of the public's interest.
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A protestor holding a sign that states "We The People" standing in front of the U.S. Capitol.
Getty Images, Antenna
Burning Down the House
Jun 16, 2025
Five years ago, our house burned down.
We built our house, had lived there twenty-five years, and brought up our eight children there. Birthdays, holidays, reunions, parties, so many memories. Our family loved it; it was home.
My husband and I were in a neighboring town when we got the call from the fire department that night. The firefighters were already on the scene and needed to know if anyone was home and where they might be in the house.
Three of our sons were home.
Breaking land-speed records and passing fire trucks and police cars on the way to the fire, we finally flew over the hill onto our street and into a sea of flashing red and blue lights. Smoke was billowing everywhere, flames shooting into the air, devouring our house and lighting up the faces of the many police, firefighters and neighbors scattered across the lawn. We did not see our sons.
For the entire interminable car ride, not once did I think about any “thing” in my house, not my computer (with all my work), not even treasured photos. All I thought about were my children.
Our youngest son, William, a fourth grader, was safe and with our next-door neighbor. One of our middle sons, Michael, had tried repeatedly to rescue our oldest son, Jonathan, who is handicapped. On Michael’s last attempt, the firefighters had to drag him back down the collapsing stairs.
Four of the firefighters had just broken through Jonathan’s bedroom window. Using infrared, they found him. They carried him outside down the ladder, just moments before his room was totally consumed in flames.
Jonathan and Michael were loaded into an ambulance. I waved the ambulance down, and off we sped. The medics said both boys would need immediate treatment for carbon monoxide poisoning and smoke inhalation. But they would live.
As we went over the hill, I turned to look back, knowing I would never see our house, or anything in it, again. But it didn’t matter, not at all. I was filled with gratitude and joy at the medics’ words. My children would live.
In our current political climate, many feel we are figuratively “burning down the house”: i.e. our White House and House of Representatives, as well as the Supreme Court and Senate. All off-kilter, all burning.
So many incendiary decisions, political fights, policies, and even names changed, seemingly as capriciously as flames burn. (House fires can burn at 2,500 degrees Fahrenheit and double in size every 30 seconds.)
Too hot, too fast: not fair, not right, we think these policies and structures are destroying the scaffolding of our lives. Or we may be encouraged by what we view as a necessary bonfire, and call it progress.
The pendulum will swing; what is done will be undone. What is good will be called bad, and bad, good. Again and again, we go round. We have been there before; change is the nature of life.
There will be a time ...for all the works and days of hands…
And time yet for a hundred indecisions.
And “for decisions and revisions which a minute will reverse.” ~ T. S. Eliot
Our greatest concern must always be the potential “burning” of our Constitution. This we cannot allow. The precious worth of our democracy rests within this document of freedoms and rights. Embrace it and enforce it: it is the heart and soul of our country.
Although we may not agree on what the “good fight” is, courage is demanded, as in the firefighters who saved our sons’ lives. In a family, in a nation, we can never stop fighting for that most essential concept, for “we, the people.” And not only for the people living now but for those in the past who honed our ideals and sacrificed for them and those who will carry our dreams into the future.
Those words, “will live,” are the only words we want to hear in any monumental crisis. They confer clear focus and hope, whether in the ravages of a fire or in the madness of an age.
If we remember what is important, we will thrive. We will live on.
Notes: Our fire was an electrical fire, starting in an outlet, likely hot for at least a year before “erupting,” but was hidden behind a sofa. And our boys are fine: Jonathan, healthy; Michael just graduated from college; and William is now a teenager… Help!
Amy Lockard is an Iowa resident who regularly contributes to regional newspapers and periodicals. She is working on the second of a four-book fictional series based on Jane Austen’s “Pride and Prejudice."
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Democracy under Fire In Minnesota- Protect Democracy with Words, Not Weapons
Jun 15, 2025
We share in the grief over the weekend’s political violence that claimed the life of Rep. Hortman and her husband Mark, and our thoughts remain with Sen. Hoffman and his wife Yvette as they fight for their lives. This tragedy strikes at the heart of our democracy, threatening not just individual lives but the fundamental belief that people from different backgrounds can come together to solve problems peacefully.
The Minnesota shootings were not the only acts of political violence on June 14th. In Salt Lake City, gunfire shattered a peaceful "No Kings" protest, critically wounding one demonstrator. In Austin, authorities evacuated the state Capitol under credible threats during another rally. In Culpeper, Virginia, police stopped a driver attempting to ram protesters with his vehicle.
The pattern is unmistakable: Americans expressing their views—whether as elected officials or peaceful protesters—are being targeted with violence. This is not a partisan issue. It is a national emergency.
Over the years, The Fulcrum has covered the rise of political violence in America—from Charlottesville to the murder of George Floyd, from the January 6th attack on the Capitol to the 2024 assassination attempt on then-presidential candidate Donald Trump. The common thread in each of these tragedies is the abandonment of dialogue in favor of domination.
As Americans, we must stand united in rejecting violence as a tool of political expression. The overwhelming majority of Americans condemn political violence, and our leaders must reinforce this norm not just in words but through decisive action. Violence and intimidation must never become the cost of leadership. Elected office is public service, not a battlefield.
In times of crisis, leaders' words shape how communities respond. We echo the guidance we published last year in The Fulcrum’s piece, “How Leaders and the Media Talk About Political Violence Matters,” by Jennifer Dresden and
Laura Livingston. Leadership—especially in moments like this—must model responsibility, restraint, and resolve. The principles they outlined then are no less vital today, and they guide our leadership of The Fulcrum. Condemnation is not enough. We must also ask:
- Are leaders swiftly and unequivocally condemning violence?
- Are they resisting the urge to vilify entire groups or dehumanize political opponents?
- Are they guiding public anger toward constructive, democratic action?
This moment is a stress test for the nation’s moral compass. Will we allow fear and violence to shape our political future, or will we recommit to the democratic values that have sustained us through darker hours than this? Will we demand our leaders uphold words and actions that stand up to violence?
People often say that political violence is un-American. While it’s true that violence is woven throughout American history, it’s also true that the American identity has always been aspirational. The time to reach for better is now. Our democracy cannot survive if participation becomes a death sentence.
We call on Americans—citizens, leaders, and media alike—to turn this grief into a galvanizing moment. Let us protect protestors. Let us safeguard elected officials. Let us ensure that disagreement is met with dialogue, not gunfire.
As Barack Obama said, “We can disagree without being disagreeable.” And in the words of the late Sen. John McCain at the 2004 Republican National Convention: "We are Americans first, Americans last, Americans always. Let us argue our differences. But remember we are not enemies, but comrades in a war against a real enemy, and take courage from the knowledge that our military superiority is matched only by the superiority of our ideals, and our unconquerable love for them."
For the victims in Minnesota, the wounded protester in Utah, and every citizen who either exercised their democratic rights on June 14th or stood in solidarity with those who did : we must do better. Democracy's future depends on the choices we make today.
David Nevins is co-publisher of The Fulcrum and co-founder and board chairman of the Bridge Alliance Education Fund.
Kristina Becvar is co-publisher of The Fulcrum and executive director of the Bridge Alliance Education Fund.
SUGGESTION: Manhunt in Minnesota Following “Politically Motivated” Shootings
A vehicle belonging to Vance Boelter is towed from the alley behind his home on June 14, 2025 in Minneapolis, Minnesota. Boelter is a suspect in the shooting of two Democratic-Farmer-Labor lawmakers. (Photo by Stephen Maturen/Getty Images)
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A vehicle belonging to Vance Boelter is towed from the alley behind his home on June 14, 2025 in Minneapolis, Minnesota. Boelter is a suspect in the shooting of two Democratic-Farmer-Labor lawmakers.
(Photo by Stephen Maturen/Getty Images)
Manhunt in Minnesota Following “Politically Motivated” Shootings
Jun 15, 2025
A massive search is underway for Vance Boelter, accused of fatally shooting Democratic lawmaker Melissa Hortman and her husband and injuring State Sen. John Hoffman and his wife in what authorities are calling “politically motivated” shootings.
The FBI is offering a $50,000 reward for information that leads to the arrest of Boelter, whom authorities say was impersonating a police officer at the time of the shooting. Investigators also say the suspect had a vehicle with emergency lights and sirens.Inside the vehicle, they found a manifesto with lawmakers' names on it, as well as papers with No Kings written on them.
Boelter was a private sector representative to the Minnesota governor's workforce development council. Appointed by Gov. Mark Dayton in 2016, then reappointed by Gov. Tim Walz in 2019, his term expired in 2023. The Governor’s Office appoints thousands of people from all parties to these unpaid boards and commissions.
Boelter's current employment includes serving as the director of security patrols at Praetorian Guard Security Services, based in the Twin Cities metro area. According to the company's website, Praetorian offers a range of armed home security services, including residential security patrols, uniformed armed security personnel, and event security services.
CNN reports that Boelter often stayed in the rented home of his longtime friend David Carlson. Carlson said Boelter was a conservative who voted for President Donald Trump and was strongly against abortion rights. But he noted Boelter never mentioned any particular issue with the lawmakers who were shot.
Carlson also shared concerning text messages that Boelter had sent him earlier in the day: "I may be dead shortly, so I just want to let you know that I love you guys both, and I wish it hadn’t gone this way."
Trump said the shootings "will not be tolerated in the United States of America" and vowed the shooter who carried out the attacks will be prosecuted to the fullest extent of the law.
“The Hoffmans are out of surgery at this time and receiving care, and we are cautiously optimistic, they will survive this assassination attempt,” Walz said at a news conference Saturday afternoon.
Hugo Balta is the executive editor of the Fulcrum. He is the publisher of the Latino News Network.
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Demonstrators protest in front of LAPD officers after a series of immigration raids on June 08, 2025 in Los Angeles, California.
(Photo by Spencer Platt/Getty Images)
Stories Matter: How Political Messaging Transforms Protests from Rights to Riots
Jun 15, 2025
The images emerging from Los Angeles this week tell two very different stories. In one version, federal troops are maintaining law and order in response to dangerous disruptions in immigration enforcement. In another, peaceful protesters defending immigrant communities face an unprecedented deployment of military force against American citizens. Same events, same streets, entirely different narratives. And, as it often does, the one that dominates will determine everything from future policy to how history remembers this moment.
This isn’t a new phenomenon. Throughout American history, the story we tell about protests has mattered more than the protests themselves. And time and again, it’s political messaging, rather than objective truth, that determines which narrative takes hold.
Consider how political rhetoric transformed our understanding of 1960s civil rights demonstrations. Politicians like George Wallace didn’t argue against racial equality directly; instead, they reframed peaceful marches as threats to “law and order,” casting constitutional demands as dangerous disruptions by “outside agitators.” The same protesters walking silently across the Edmund Pettus Bridge were simultaneously heroic Americans in civil rights messaging and threats to community peace in segregationist political rhetoric. The messaging that dominated, particularly in national media, determined whether Americans saw courage or chaos.
The pattern repeats across decades. During the labor movements of the early 1900s, political leaders and business interests consistently used language about foreign influence and radical elements to delegitimize worker organizing. Strikes for basic safety protections became threats to American prosperity. The actual grievances of dangerous working conditions and poverty wages were overshadowed by messaging that made economic justice sound like a national betrayal.
Vietnam War protests followed the same playbook. Rather than engage with concerns about an unpopular war, political messaging introduced the “silent majority,” positioning protesters as a loud minority disrupting the wishes of real Americans. Anti-war demonstrations weren’t really about war policy, the dominant story suggested, but about disrespecting troops and undermining national unity.
Even Pride marches, now celebrated as pivotal moments in civil rights history, faced similar narrative manipulation. Politicians didn’t argue against LGBTQ+ equality directly; they reframed Pride as a threat to traditional values and public decency. The story became about the disruption of community standards rather than demands for basic human dignity. Parades celebrating identity and demanding equal treatment were cast as exhibitionist spectacles threatening American families.
The mechanism is remarkably consistent: political messaging shifts the frame entirely, making the story about something other than the protesters’ stated concerns. Civil rights become law and order. Economic justice becomes foreign radicalism. Anti-war sentiment becomes disrespectful to troops. LGBTQ+ equality becomes an attack on families. Immigration advocacy becomes undermining national security.
This reframing is strategic. Scholars have argued that stories are powerful political devices that dictate what the general populace considers good or evil. By controlling the dominant narrative, political leaders can respond to protests without ever addressing the underlying issues that drove people to the streets. When the story shifts from maintaining order to achieving justice, the policy response becomes the deployment of troops rather than examining grievances.
Of course, some will say that maintaining order is a legitimate government responsibility, and that protests can genuinely disrupt communities and create safety concerns. However, this overlooks a deeper pattern: throughout history, the “order” argument has been deployed selectively, almost always against movements seeking to expand rights rather than restrict them. The same politicians who invoke law and order against civil rights protests rarely apply that standard to other forms of public assembly that don’t challenge existing power structures.
What makes the Los Angeles situation particularly terrifying is how rapidly the dominant narrative formed. Within days of the protests beginning, the narrative had shifted from concerns about immigration enforcement to a debate over federal authority versus state overreach. The experiences of immigrant communities, which were the catalysts for the demonstrations, receded into the background beneath debates about constitutional law and military deployment.
History suggests we should be skeptical of whatever narrative dominates in the moment. The dangerous disruptions of one era often become the heroic stands of the next, once political messaging loses its grip and we can see events more clearly. Or—as is the case with Martin Luther King Jr.—a publicly vilified agitator becomes a national hero with a federal holiday.
The power to control the dominant narrative is the power to shape policy, influence public opinion, and shape historical memory. In Los Angeles, as in countless protests before, political messaging is working overtime to ensure we’re debating everything except what the protesters are actually saying. The question isn’t which story is more convenient for current political needs, but which one captures the actual reasons people felt compelled to take to the streets.
The stories we tell now will greatly impact our collective futures. Perhaps it’s time we started listening to the stories the protesters themselves are telling, rather than the ones being told about them.
Stephanie R. Toliver is an assistant professor of curriculum and instruction at the University of Illinois, Urbana-Champaign and a Public Voices Fellow with The OpEd Project.
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