As we celebrate Juneteenth, Rev. Dr. F. Willis Johnson Jr., vice president of partnerships and programming for the Bridge Alliance, shares his thoughts on our nation's newest federal holiday in "Reflections on Juneteenth."
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Photo by Aaron Burden on Unsplash
The ReUnion
Jul 12, 2026
I was seven years old when President John F. Kennedy delivered the line that lit up a generation: “Ask not what your country can do for you, but what you can do for your country.” Even as a child, I felt the electricity of that moment. The early days of the Kennedy administration carried a sense of youth, vitality, and possibility. America stood at the apex of its postwar power — confident enough to promise the moon and bold enough to believe we could get there. It was exhilarating.
There was a swagger to the country then — not arrogance, but a deep, instinctive pride. America had defeated Nazism and imperialism, helped rebuild a shattered world, and emerged as a force for stability and prosperity. The promise of America felt inevitable, and for a time, it seemed the world was better for our being in it.
I begin here because that feeling — that sense of a country working, a country rising — is foreign to many today. Our civic life feels strained. Our narratives feel fractured. The media amplifies division, and our collective anxiety about “being number one” can make the moment feel hopeless. But memory is short. America’s postwar dominance was always going to recede as the world recovered. The extraordinary position we held after World War II was an aberration — a brief window created by the devastation of global conflict. As other nations rebuilt, they relied less on us, and our dominance naturally softened.
But somewhere along the way, we confused dominance with greatness.
America’s strength was never just its wealth or its markets. It was the architecture of freedom laid down in the founding documents — the Declaration of Independence, the Constitution, and the Bill of Rights — a framework that treated ordinary people as capable of self-government. That idea traveled farther than any army. It reached my family in Castlecomer, Ireland. They didn’t cross an ocean for riches; they crossed it for dignity, for the chance to build something of their own and to stand as equals in the civic project. For four generations, they voted for the Union because they believed in that promise. I stand in that line.
Which is why the ReUnion matters.
What I’m doing now — what all of us are trying to do, whether we name it or not — is gather the pieces back together. Not in some sentimental way, but in the way my people always did: by showing up, by staying connected, by refusing to drift into isolation. The ReUnion isn’t an event. It’s a posture. It’s the quiet decision to keep the line intact, to keep faith with the ones who came before us, and to make sure the next generation knows where they stand.
Today feels like a good day to show up for democracy, because no other country offers what America still offers. To lose that, you would have to tear up those three founding documents — and that won’t happen easily. The memory of what they promise is too deeply embedded in us.
I’m not fretting the moment. When I look at my family, I see the frame for understanding it. America has broken promises before, but my family never broke faith with the idea of America. They endured. They found common ground. They built. And they kept building even when the country faltered. That’s the inheritance I carry.
I don’t need agreement to find common ground. I know who I am. I know what I need. I’m seeking the middle because I’m itching to build something new.
But building something new requires clarity about what the country needs now. Every generation of my family built according to the demands of their moment — farms, communities, civic trust, stability. Our moment demands something different: national projects that strengthen the country for the next fifty years.
Right now, we’re stripping the capacity of our nation. This is not sustainable, and farmers know that instinctively. They understand soil, water, seasons, and limits. They know when the land is tired. They know when a field needs to rest. They know that you cannot take more than the earth can give without paying a price later. I left California because the air became unlivable — a climate refugee in search of breathable days. And when I arrived in Buffalo, I was greeted by the same problem: smoke drifting from the Boreal Forest, settling over the Great Lakes, reminding me that climate is not a coastal issue or a partisan issue; it’s a capacity issue — the capacity of the land, the air, and the people who depend on both.
Environmental resilience isn’t a political argument; it’s a stability argument. A country that cannot breathe cannot thrive. We need resilient grids, protected forests, modernized water systems, and regional and global planning that anticipates the next fifty years rather than reacting to the last five.
We also need high-speed rail that knits the regions together and makes the country feel whole again. We need new energy systems that reduce volatility and give rural America a stake in the future economy. We need to re-engineer governing for the 21st century — modern, responsive, transparent, capable of handling the scale of today’s challenges.
These are not partisan dreams. They are the modern expression of the Ring philosophy: endure, find common ground, and build something amazing. This is the work of citizenship today — the work my ancestors would have recognized instantly. And there’s plenty of work to be done.
This year marks the 180th anniversary of the Ring–Delaney–Mackin–Fitzgerald line in America. My genealogical research — casual at first — revealed a spine of civic responsibility that has held firm across nearly two centuries. That continuity is why this moment matters.
We’re gathering this July for a family reunion on home turf in Manhattan, Illinois. It’s already turning into a collaborative affair — of course it is. My cousin Denny has the same genealogical curiosity, and together we’ve uncovered new pieces of our story that will help everyone understand who we are and why. I’ll see relatives I haven’t seen in decades, yet I know them. I’ll recognize their way of being — respectful, curious, steady. We will have a good time because we were raised to find common ground. We carry the instincts of our ancestors into the present moment. We understand the work that needs to be done.
And the Rings would have understood exactly what Kennedy was asking of his fellow citizens. They would have answered wholeheartedly, as they always did: we give our country the support it needs to realize its promises. I’m channeling them today. I’m choosing to believe, as they did, that the American Experiment is worthy — and that our work is to help it rise to its ideals.
This is the ReUnion. A choice, again. And in that simple act of returning, we become a beacon for the unfinished work of the American Experiment.
Patrick Fitzgerald contributes to The Fulcrum, a nonpartisan publication dedicated to strengthening democracy through informed civic engagement and diverse perspectives. Raised in the Midwest and shaped by farm communities, he later spent 29 years in San Francisco, where the city’s civic diversity and neighborhood culture influence his writing. He focuses on rebuilding trust in one another and environmental stewardship. He now lives in Buffalo, New York, where he continues to write essays grounded in personal experience.
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Cover Photo: Chris Oquist in Black and White.
Chris Oquist
Composer uses music to connect Latino heritage and environmental justice
Jul 12, 2026
CHICAGO — Climate change is often measured through scientific reports and statistics. For Chicago-based composer Chris Oquist, it is something audiences can hear.
On Saturday, Oquist performed “Derivas Liminares” as part of the Chicago Art Department’s fourth annual Contra Corriente Festival. The performance benefited the Pilsen Environmental Rights and Reform Organization (PERRO), a nonprofit that advocates for environmental protections in Pilsen, one of Chicago’s largest Latino neighborhoods. Oquist’s performance was one of several events held during the festival, which centers on environmental and racial justice.
For “Derivas Liminares”, Oquist uses a process known as data sonification, converting atmospheric temperature data into sound. While scientists often use the technique to analyze patterns in data, he said he incorporates it into music to tell a story. The composition examines how gradual changes in the climate, society and personal relationships often go unnoticed until they reach a point of no return.
“I think that we’re really not equipped to understand or recognize those long-changing processes the way we do things that we can experience directly,” Oquist said.
“But it’s really crucial that, if we have any hope of controlling the systems that we’ve created and being active participants in the world, that we have to look carefully and deeply and listen intentionally and mindfully.”
That same philosophy influenced Oquist’s decision to support PERRO.
According to Oquist, the organization has advocated against industrial pollution near Benito Juárez Community Academy in Pilsen. He said the group’s work reflects environmental challenges that continue to affect many Latino communities and gives residents a voice in seeking cleaner air and stronger environmental protections.
“There’s super systemic imbalances that make equity harder to pursue,” Oquist said. “I just love that there’s an organization like PERRO that’s working on the ground against crazy odds to try and right some of these wrongs and protect people.”
Environmental justice is only one theme in Oquist’s work.
Born in Puerto Rico to a Colombian mother, he said stories of migration and sacrifice shaped his artistic perspective from an early age. His debut EP, CYCLES / 01, includes a composition inspired by his late grandmother, whose journey from Colombia to Puerto Rico became the foundation for a piece exploring memory across generations. He said those family experiences continue to influence the questions he asks through music.
“My grandmother made a tremendous amount of sacrifices for her family,” Oquist said. “The stories that she would tell me, and that people would tell me of what she had gone through, almost felt like something out of magical realism.”
Oquist continued to say that perspective also shapes how he understands the role of music in Latino communities. He called music “an act of resistance,” saying it has long given artists a way to preserve culture while reclaiming humanity and dignity in the face of injustice.
Chicago-based composer uses music to connect Latino heritage and environmental justice was first published on Illinois Latino News and was republished with permission.
Angeles Ponpa is the Managing Editor of Latino News Network Midwest, overseeing Illinois Latino News, Wisconsin Latino News, and Michigan Latino News. She is based in Illinois.
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Delaney Hall Detention Facility, Newark, New Jersey.
(Photo by Andrew Lichtenstein/Corbis via Getty Images)
Private Prisons and ICE Exploit Loopholes, Harm Communities
Jul 11, 2026
While Immigration and Customs Enforcement (ICE) terrorizes Black and brown communities with racial profiling, kidnappings, inhumane treatment, fatal abuse, and killings, private prison investors are asking how ICE can detain more people to increase their profits. Private prison corporations have long profited from immigration enforcement, but they are expecting a financial windfall under the current administration. These corporations are politically and financially situated to rapidly increase detention capacity and cash in on the president’s goal of deporting one million people per year. Stopping these corporations from lining politicians’ campaign coffers is a necessary first step in ensuring that our government is accountable to the people it serves, rather than the corporations it contracts with.
ICE and private prison corporations have long had a symbiotic relationship. Ninety percent of ICE's detainees were already being held in facilities owned or operated by private prison corporations before President Trump began his second term. CoreCivic and GEO Group, two of the largest private prison corporations that lead the multi-billion dollar industry, have been contracting with immigration enforcement for decades. By 2023, ICE contracts accounted for 43 percent of CoreCivic’s revenue and 30 percent of GEO Group’s revenue. The majority of each corporation’s lobbyists have held government positions, and GEO Group’s board of directors “has extensive links with ICE.” The relationship between private prisons and ICE is the embodiment of the “'revolving door’ between the federal government and the private sector.”
These private prison corporations have donated millions to the current administration to advance their own interests. CoreCivic and GEO Group spent $1.77 million and $1.38 million, respectively, lobbying the federal government in 2024. These corporations and the people that run them spent millions more in contributions to candidates and PACs that same year. While corporations that contract with the federal government are technically barred from making such direct political contributions, legal loopholes permit CoreCivic and GEO Group’s “PACs, their individual members or employees or owners, and those individuals' immediate family members” to make such political contributions.
It should come as no surprise, then, that since Trump's second term began, CoreCivic and GEO Group have secured additional lucrative government contracts with ICE, enjoyed soaring profits, and seen their stocks rise. These companies are directly profiting from the administration’s racist immigration agenda and its dismantling of due process. Reporters last year found that CoreCivic made $116.5 million in profits in 2025, “an almost 70 percent increase from the previous year.” The company expects higher profits in 2026 to the tune of $147.5 million to $157.5 million.
This projected growth aligns with CoreCivic and GEO Group’s successful lobbying in connection with H.R. 1, the “One Big Beautiful Bill” Act, to increase Congress’s appropriations to the Department of Homeland Security (DHS). “Much of [the] focus” of CoreCivic and GEO Group’s 2024 lobbying was on DHS appropriations. When Congress passed H.R. 1 in 2025, adding $75 billion over four years to ICE’s base $10 billion budget, ICE became the highest-funded law enforcement agency in America.
Nearly two-thirds of the H.R. 1 budget allocated to ICE and Customs and Border Protection (CBP) is dedicated to building detention facilities capable of detaining more than 100,000 people per year, while the remaining third is intended to increase ICE’s capacity through hiring and training new officers. This is just one slice of the more than $170 billion that H.R. 1 allocated for immigration enforcement.
In a similar vein, in June of 2026, Congress passed legislation to pump nearly $70 billion more into ICE and CBP’s already inflated budget over the next three years. Almost 90 percent of that additional funding is intended to increase ICE and CBP’s detention efforts and capacity, and fund improvements to their technological capabilities.
ICE’s enormous budget is expected to benefit CoreCivic and GEO Group by allowing them to reopen their idle facilities and construct new ones in record time. The American Immigration Council estimates that with the funding from H.R.1, “ICE could potentially acquire enough detention beds to house 135,000 people at any given time, more than three times the entire capacity of the system at the time President Trump took office.” This expansion has grave implications for noncitizens and citizens alike, as more and more people are subject to ICE detention and inhumane conditions in these facilities.
The stakes of ICE's expansion are, unsurprisingly, highest for Black and brown people. While the government does not publish race and ethnicity data concerning the people it detains, ICE has made no secret of its blatant racial profiling. In one particularly egregious example, in DHS’s 2025 national media campaign, former U.S. Secretary of Homeland Security Kristi Noem was depicted on camera saying, “if you are here illegally, you’re next,” while mugshot-style photos of Black and brown men were shown in the background. DHS’ Operation Metro Surge, which terrorized communities in Minnesota beginning in December 2025, targeted Somali and Latino residents. This dovetails with the United States’ history of disproportionately policing and incarcerating Black and brown people. The big money supporting the expansion of ICE treats the capture and abuse of Black and brown people as a business demanding more infrastructure, systems, and technology.
Private prisons are not the only type of corporate interest that profits from ICE terrorizing Black and brown people. The government also has lucrative contracts with hundreds of companies that provide everything from “surveillance tech and airline transportation to cloud services and bank financing.” ICE’s top ten contractors have benefited the most, as ICE concentrated nearly 70 percent of its spending on those contractors in the first full year of this administration. The best-known of these contractors is perhaps Palantir, a tech surveillance company that spent $5.9 million on lobbying expenses in 2024. And while top Palantir executives’ ideological views align with the current administration’s white supremacist rhetoric, and that ideology no doubt informs their business, Palantir’s sheer financial benefits are undeniable. In April of 2025, DHS signed a $30 million contract with Palantir to develop more comprehensive migrant tracking systems, and in February of 2026, Palantir secured a $1 billion software purchase agreement with DHS.
These corporations have a vested interest in ICE’s expansion and in its violent detention practices – that interest is in direct conflict with the will of voters. Polling shows that ICE’s unpopularity has increased. A “sizeable majority” (over 60 percent) of voters believe that ICE has “gone too far” and is “making Americans less safe.” Big money in politics has drowned out public opinion thus far, however. The political influence of private prison corporations and other corporate interests has led to a “Deportation-Industrial Complex,” which the Brennan Center for Justice describes as “an enforcement machine with financial and political constituencies that will outlast this administration.” The financial and political power of this enforcement machine far exceeds that of everyday voters. For example, when H.R. 1 increased ICE’s budget sevenfold, it bypassed the normal discretionary appropriations process, which typically funds defense and immigration. ICE has access to its new, incredibly large budget, whether or not Congress passes its annual budget. As a result, ICE continued to operate while the government was partially shut down in early 2026, even though the shutdown was intended to put pressure on lawmakers to overhaul ICE’s practices after the agency killed Renee Good and Alex Pretti.
As long as private prisons and similar corporate interests profit from ICE’s harm to Black and brown people, and as long as they can use legal loopholes to make unchecked political contributions to support ICE’s terror, the government will prioritize their interests. In the meantime, ICE continues to racially profile, harm people with impunity, and keep detention center conditions deplorable. The administration also continues to ensure that there is a large pool of people for ICE to target, pausing processing of green card applications and keeping pathways to citizenship scarce.
A thriving democracy cannot allow these monied interests to dictate immigration policy and prioritize profits over people. A critical step in reducing the outsized political power of private prisons is for Congress to enact legislation that closes legal loopholes and strictly limits political donations from government contractors’ direct associates, such as PACs, corporate executives, and major shareholders. Banning these contributions would go a long way toward severing the financial ties that currently allow corporate interests to co-opt our democracy and influence immigration policy. Other campaign finance reforms, such as stricter disclosure requirements and conflicts-of-interest laws, are also necessary to rein in the inordinate role of money in politics. Such measures will help reduce pay-to-play incentives that currently enable private prison corporations and ICE to turn a hefty profit by terrorizing Black and brown people and harming our communities.
Joshua Harmon is a Research and Data Analytics Senior Associate at Dēmos, a non-profit public policy organization working to build a just, inclusive, multiracial democracy and economy.
Neda Khoshkhoo is Interim Director of Democracy at Dēmos, where she focuses on crafting policy solutions for democratic reform, racial justice, and immigrant justice.
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Charles De Ketelaere #17 of Belgium scores his team’s first goal past Unai Simon #23 of Spain during the FIFA World Cup 2026 Quarter Final match between Spain and Belgium at Los Angeles Stadium on July 10, 2026, in Inglewood, California.
(Photo by David Ramos/Getty Images)
What the World Cup Teaches Us About Democracy
Jul 11, 2026
As live sporting events go, nothing comes close to the World Cup. I was in the stands when South Africa, my birth country, hosted the event in 2010 after decades of exclusion from global athletics. In June of this year, I had a full-circle moment when South Africa played in the knockout rounds for the first time, and I stood with my two American sons, arms around them, singing South Africa's anthem — the only national anthem that weaves multiple languages into a single, unifying song. Later in the week, I was in the stands again, cheering Spain's win over Austria, a country to which my only connections are a brief holiday…and the fact that my mother's family fled from there during the Inquisition.
The magic of the World Cup is that everyone in the stands wears the flags and shirts of countries that are “theirs” in some way. For some, it’s where they were born; for others, where they live or where their ancestors hailed from. For some, it is simply a country they have adopted for the afternoon. It is impossible to know how deep a person’s connection runs simply by looking at them. And next to a person waving one team’s colors is a stranger, family member, or close friend supporting the opposing team—or wearing the jersey of a team that isn’t playing that day at all.
What a metaphor for a pluralistic democracy.
News stories about how Americans are leaning into the uncomplicated joy of participating in this global ritual have grown over the past few weeks. Many are surprised by how hungry they are for the chance to cheer on the U.S. team and to cheer alongside a neighbor cheering for another country. To be at a watch party and feel part of something bigger, unmarred by the ever-familiar tensions of our polarized politics. It’s an unburdening we have badly needed.
The World Cup and FIFA, its organizing body, are hardly devoid of politics or of very serious problems. But for one month every four years, it manages something our civic life rarely does: it puts people who disagree in the same place to cheer together through moments of pride, joy, and defeat.
In our diverse country, classrooms are rather like the World Cup stands. Students signal their loyalties to social groups and to issues in a variety of ways. Some of those loyalties are core identities, fundamental to who they are. Others are more surface-level, akin to trying on a shirt for an afternoon to see how it fits. It is impossible for either a teacher or a fellow student to know which is which — unless they are curious enough to ask.
For our pluralistic democracy to thrive, we need rituals that stoke curiosity and help us manage the discomfort of sharing space with someone wearing another team's jersey. They will cheer for a goal that feels disastrous for your team. They will also have to endure your cheers when your team scores. The joy is communal even when the outcome is not. That asymmetry — your team's win is my team's loss, and yet, we are still here in the stands together — is exactly how we can build a better democratic life.
Our young people badly need more routine opportunities to realize that very few civic outcomes are truly permanent, including the ones that feel high-stakes and impossibly so. Classrooms are where they can practice and cultivate those skills before they enter formal civic spaces in adulthood.
The trepidation educators feel about discussing current events and contested issues is real and legitimate. So is the hunger students feel for those interactions. Like fans at World Cup games, they need spaces where genuine disagreement doesn't have to mean social rupture.
As the 2026–27 school year approaches, the question facing educators is not whether they should discuss hard things with their students. It is how they can create the conditions for honest, productive discussions that lead to enduring skills development. The World Cup, briefly and imperfectly, shows us it is possible. Classrooms, with intention and preparation, can do it even better.
Vikki Katz, Ph.D., is the Executive Director of Or Initiative and Fletcher Jones Foundation Endowed Chair in Free Speech in the School of Communication at Chapman University.
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