
1.4M of the nation's poorest renters risk losing their homes with Trump's proposed HUD time limit
The delivery fees and tips she earns on top of $18 an hour mean it's better than minimum-wage shift work, even though it's not consistent. It helps her afford the government-subsidized apartment she and her 14-year-old autistic son have lived in for three years, though it's still tough to make ends meet.
'It's a cycle of feeling defeated and depleted, no matter how much energy and effort and tenacity you have towards surviving,' Hopkins said.
Still, the 33-year-old single mother is grateful she has stable housing — experts estimate just 1 in 4 low-income households eligible for U.S. Department of Housing and Urban Development rental assistance get the benefits. And now Hopkins is at risk of losing her home, as federal officials move to restrict HUD policy.
Amid a worsening national affordable housing and homelessness crisis, President Donald Trump's administration is determined to reshape HUD's expansive role providing stable housing for low-income people, which has been at the heart of its mission for generations. The proposed changes include a two-year limit on the federal government's signature rental assistance programs.
At a June congressional budget hearing, HUD Secretary Scott Turner argued policies like time limits will fix waste and fraud in public housing and Section 8 voucher programs.
'It's broken and deviated from its original purpose, which is to temporarily help Americans in need,' Turner said. 'HUD assistance is not supposed to be permanent.'
But the move to restrict such key subsidies would mark a significant retreat from the scope of HUD's work. Millions of tenants moved in with the promise of subsidized housing for as long as they were poor enough to remain qualified, so time limits would be a seismic shift that could destabilize the most vulnerable households, many unlikely to ever afford today's record-high rents.
New research from New York University, obtained exclusively by The Associated Press, found that if families were cut off after two years, 1.4 million households could lose their vouchers and public housing subsidies — largely working families with children. This would lead housing authorities to evict many families, the report said.
A broad time limit would cause 'substantial disruption and dislocation,' the it said, noting the policy is largely untested and most of the few housing authorities to voluntarily try it eventually abandoned the pilots.
A break from HUD's long-held purpose of helping house the poor could also jeopardize its contracts with private landlords, who say they're already feeling the uncertainty as public housing authorities from Seattle to Atlanta announce they're scaling back in anticipation of federal funding cuts.
Critics fear the restriction could derail those working towards self-sufficiency — defeating the goal time-limit supporters hope to achieve.
HUD spokesperson Kasey Lovett pushed back on the NYU study.
'There is plenty of data that strongly supports time limits and shows that long-term government assistance without any incentive disincentivizes able-bodied Americans to work,' Lovett said in a statement. She primarily cited statistics suggesting low employment among HUD-subsidized tenants.
Hopkins said the policy would likely leave her and her son homeless in an economy that often feels indifferent to working poor people like her.
'A two-year time limit is ridiculous,' she said. 'It's so disrespectful. I think it's dehumanizing — the whole system.'
Working families are most at risk
Researchers from the Housing Solutions Lab at New York University's Furman Center analyzed HUD's data over a 10-year period and found about 70% of households who could be affected by a two-year limit had already been living on those subsidies for two or more years.
That's based on 2024 estimates and doesn't include elderly and disabled people who wouldn't be subject to time limits. Exempted households make up about half of the roughly 4.9 million households getting rental assistance.
In the first study to examine the proposed policy's possible impacts, the NYU researchers found time limits would largely punish families who are working but earning far below their area's median income, which would ultimately shift federal rental assistance away from households with kids.
'Housing assistance is especially impactful for children,' said Claudia Aiken, the study co-author and director of new research partnerships for the Housing Solutions Lab. Their health, education, employment and earnings potential can "change in really meaningful ways if they have stable housing,' she said.
It would affect people like Hopkins, whose family was on a years-long waitlist in the expensive region where she grew up. In July 2022, she and her son moved into a two-bedroom public housing unit in Woodinville, Washington. She pays $450 a month in rent — 30% of her household income.
A market-rate apartment in the area costs at least $2,000 more, according to the King County Housing Authority, which in June announced it would pause issuing some new vouchers.
Hopkins knows she could never afford to live in her home state without rental assistance. It was a relief they could stay as long as they needed. She had been struggling to scrape together hundreds of dollars more a month for her previous trailer home.
'There's no words to put on feeling like your housing is secure,' Hopkins said. 'I feel like I was gasping for air and I'm finally able to breathe.'
She credits the housing subsidy for her ability to finally leave an abusive marriage, and still dreams of more — perhaps her own catering business or working as a party decorator.
'We all can't be lawyers and doctors — and two years isn't enough to even become that,' Hopkins said.
Since learning of Trump's proposal, Hopkins said she's been haunted by thoughts of shoving her possessions into a van with her son, upending the stability she built for him.
'Difficult to do well'
The average household in HUD-subsidized housing stays about six years, studies show.
HUD funds local public housing projects where nearly 1 million households live and the Section 8 vouchers that about 4 million households use to offset their private rentals.
There's been little guidance from HUD on how time-limited housing assistance would be implemented — how it would be enforced, when the clock starts and how the exemptions would be defined.
Both Democrats and Republicans have acknowledged the potential for time limits to help curb HUD's notorious waitlists. Hard-liners contend the threat of housing loss will push people to reach self-sufficiency; others see limits, when coupled with support and workforce incentives, as a means to motivate tenants to improve their lives.
Yet there are strikingly few successful examples.
NYU researchers identified just 17 public housing authorities that have tested time limits. None of the programs were designed for only two years and 11 abandoned the restriction — despite being able to use federal dollars for services to help people achieve self-sufficiency. Several agencies that dropped the limits said tenants still struggled to afford housing after their time was up.
'These policies are complex and difficult to monitor, enforce, and do well,' NYU's Aiken said.
The city of Keene, New Hampshire, tried five-year time limits starting in 2001, but terminated the policy before fully enforcing it to avoid kicking out households that would still be 'rent burdened, or potentially homeless,' said Josh Meehan, executive director of Keene Housing.
In California, Shawnté Spears of the Housing Authority of San Mateo County said the agency has kept its five-year time limit in tandem with educational programs she says have 'given folks motivation' to meet their goals. It also gives more people the chance to use vouchers, she said.
NYU's Aiken acknowledged HUD's long waitlists make the current system 'a bit of a lottery," adding: "You could say that time limits are a way of increasing people's odds in that lottery.'
The landlord's dilemma
HUD's Section 8 programs have long depended on hundreds of thousands of for-profit and nonprofit small business owners and property managers to accept tenant vouchers. Now, landlords fear a two-year limit could put their contracts for HUD-subsidized housing in limbo.
Amid the uncertainty, Denise Muha, executive director of the National Leased Housing Association, said multiple landlord groups have voiced their concerns about HUD's next budget in a letter to congressional leaders. She said landlords generally agree two years is simply not enough time for most low-income tenants to change their fortunes.
'As a practical matter, you're going to increase your turnover, which is a cost," Muha said. 'Nobody wants to throw out their tenants without cause.'
It's always been a significant lift for private landlords to work with HUD subsidies, which involve burdensome paperwork, heavy oversight and maintenance inspections.
But the trade-off is a near guarantee of dependable longer-term renters and rental income. If that's compromised, some landlords say they'd pull back from the federal subsidy programs.
Brad Suster, who owns 86 Chicago-area units funded by HUD, said accepting subsidies could become risky.
'Would we have the same reliability that we know has traditionally come for countless years from the federal government?' Suster said. 'That's something landlords and owners want to know is there."
The diminishing housing stock available to low-income tenants has been a brewing problem for HUD. Between 2010 and 2020, some 50,000 housing providers left the voucher program, the agency has reported.
Chaos and trade-offs, critics say
It's up for debate whether lawmakers will buy into Trump's vision for HUD.
This week the U.S. House appropriations committee is taking up HUD's 2026 budget, which so far makes no mention of time limits.
HUD's Lovett noted the Senate's budget plans for the agency have not yet been released, and said the administration remains focused on future implementation of time limits.
'HUD will continue to engage with colleagues on the hill to ensure a seamless transition and enforcement of any new time limit,' Lovett said in a statement.
Noëlle Porter, the director of government affairs at the National Housing Law Project, said Trump's fight for time limits is far from over, noting that legislative and rule changes could make them a reality.
'It is clearly a stated goal of the administration to impose work requirements and time limits on rental assistance, even though it would be wildly unpopular,' Porter said.
Democratic Rep. James Clyburn of South Carolina says there's no evidence time limits would save HUD money.
'This doesn't help families who already are working multiple jobs to become self-sufficient,' Clyburn said at a June hearing. 'Instead, it creates chaos, financial uncertainty and pushes these families into more severe trade-offs.'
Time limits could imperil Aaliyah Barnes' longtime dream of graduating college and becoming a nurse, finding a job and a home she can afford.
The 28-year-old single mom in Louisville, Kentucky, this year joined Family Scholar House, which provides counseling and support for people pursuing an education — and, to Barnes' relief, housing.
Her apartment is paid for by a Section 8 voucher. In March, Barnes moved in and her 3-year-old son, Aarmoni, finally got his own room, where she set up a learning wall.
Previously, she had struggled to afford housing on her wages at a call center — and living with her mom, two sisters and their kids in a cramped house was an environment ridden with arguments.
The stable future she's building could disappear, though, if she's forced out in two years when her schooling is expected to take three years.
'I'd be so close, but so far away,' Barnes said.
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Kramon reported from Atlanta.
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BreakingNews.ie
a minute ago
- BreakingNews.ie
What you need to know about Trump, Epstein and the MAGA controversy
The 2019 suicide of disgraced financier and sex offender Jeffrey Epstein in a New York jail cell generated conspiracy theories, fuelled by US president Donald Trump's conservative MAGA movement, that he was killed by one of his famous connections. Here are some facts about Epstein and the current controversy: Advertisement Who is Jeffrey Epstein? The Brooklyn-born Epstein, a former high school math teacher who later founded consulting and financial management firms, cultivated the rich and famous. He was known for socializing with politicians and royalty, including Mr Trump, Democratic president Bill Clinton, Microsoft MSFT.O co-founder Bill Gates and Britain's Prince Andrew. Some friends and clients flew on his private plane and visited his Caribbean islands. Mr Trump knew Epstein socially in the 1990s and early 2000s. During the 2021 trial of Epstein associate Ghislaine Maxwell, the financier's longtime pilot, Lawrence Visoski, testified that Mr Trump flew on Epstein's private plane multiple times. Mr Trump has denied being on the plane. What was Epstein charged with? In 2008, Epstein pleaded guilty to a Florida state felony prostitution charge, after federal prosecutors agreed not to charge him with sex trafficking of minors. He served 13 months in jail and was required to register as a sex offender. That punishment is now widely regarded as too lenient. Advertisement In July 2019, the US Justice Department charged Epstein with sex trafficking minors, including sexually exploiting and abusing dozens of girls, in New York and Florida between 2002 and 2005. He pleaded not guilty. Epstein died on August 10th, 2019, at age 66 by hanging himself in a Manhattan jail cell, an autopsy concluded. He was never tried on the 2019 charges. What is the current controversy over Epstein? Though the New York City chief medical examiner determined that Epstein's death was a suicide by hanging, Epstein's ties to wealthy and powerful people prompted speculation that one or more of them wanted him silenced. In several interviews, Mr Trump left open the possibility that Epstein may not have died by suicide. During the 2024 presidential campaign, when asked on Fox News if he would declassify the Epstein files, Mr Trump said: "Yeah, yeah I would." Advertisement In February, Fox News asked attorney general Pam Bondi whether the Justice Department would be releasing Epstein's client list, and she said: "It's sitting on my desk right now to review." The 2019 suicide of disgraced financier and sex offender Jeffrey Epstein in a New York jail cell generated conspiracy theories. Photo:Some of Mr Trump's most loyal followers became furious after his administration reversed course on its promise. A Justice Department memo released on July 7th concluded that Epstein killed himself and said there was "no incriminating client list" or evidence that Epstein blackmailed prominent people. The demands by Trump supporters for more Epstein-related documents have caused a rare fracture within the president's base. Supporters, inspired by conservative talk show hosts and podcasters, have said the federal government is concealing records to protect wealthy and influential people with ties to Epstein. Advertisement Trying to contain the fallout, Mr Trump defended Ms Bondi and accused his supporters in a Truth Social post of falling for a hoax, calling them "weaklings" who were helping Democrats. With backlash from his base not abating, Mr Trump on July 17th requested that Ms Bondi ask a federal judge to unseal grand jury transcripts related to Epstein's 2019 indictment. The government on Friday filed a motion in Manhattan federal court to unseal the transcripts. What happens next? Ultimately, a judge will decide whether to release the transcripts. Transcripts of grand jury proceedings are generally kept secret under federal criminal procedure rules, with limited exceptions. If a judge agrees to release the transcripts, it is likely that some material would be redacted, or blacked out because of privacy or security concerns.


The Guardian
a minute ago
- The Guardian
Atlanta journalist fights deportation from Ice jail despite dropped charges: ‘I'm seeing what absolute power can do'
Prosecutors dropped the last remaining charges against Atlanta-area journalist Mario Guevara last week after he was arrested while livestreaming a protest in June. But the influential Salvadorian reporter remains penned up in a south Georgia detention center, fending off a deportation case, jail house extortionists and despair, people familiar with his situation told the Guardian. Donald Trump's administration has been extreme in unprecedented ways to undocumented immigrants. But Guevara's treatment is a special case. Shuttled between five jail cells in Georgia since his arrest while covering the 'No Kings Day' protests, the 20-plus-years veteran journalist's sin was to document the undocumented and the way Trump's agents have been hunting them down. Today, according to the Committee to Protect Journalists, he's the only reporter in the United States sleeping in a prison cell for doing his job. 'For the first for the first time in my life, I'm seeing what absolute power can do,' said Guevara's attorney, Giovanni Díaz. 'Power that doesn't care about optics. Power that doesn't care about the damage to human lives to achieve a result I've only heard about as some abstract thing that we heard about in the past, usually talking about other governments in the way that they persecute individuals. This is powerful.' Around Atlanta, Guevara has been the person that immigrants call when they see an Immigrations and Customs Enforcement (Ice) raid going down in their neighborhood. Guevara had been working for La Prensa Gráfica, one of El Salvador's main newspapers, when he was attacked at a protest rally held by the leftwing group Farabundo Martí National Liberation Front (FMLN) in 2003. The former paramilitary organization viewed reporters from his paper as aligned with the rightwing government, and threatened his life. He fled to the United States in 2004, seeking asylum with his wife and daughter, entering legally on a tourist visa. He has been reporting for Spanish-language media in the United States ever since, riding a wave of Latino immigration to the Atlanta suburbs to career success and community accolades. He began reporting on immigration crackdowns under the Obama administration, one of the few reporters to note a tripling of noncriminal immigration arrests in the Atlanta area, as noted in a 2019 New York Times video profile of his work.. He meticulously documented cases and interviewed the families of arrestees. People around Atlanta began to recognize him on the street as the journalist chasing la migra. His work continued through the Trump administration, drawing an audience of millions that followed him from Mundo Hispánico to the startup news operation he founded last year: MGNews or Noticias MG. 'It's a unique niche that was met by Mario's innovation and entrepreneurialism, if you will,' said Jerry Gonzales, executive director of the Georgia Association of Latino Elected Officials and GALEO Latino Community Development Fund. 'He developed a really strong relationship with the community. He developed significant trust with much of that community. And because of that, his eyeballs started increasing.' An immigration court judge denied Guevara's asylum claim in 2012 and issued a deportation order. Guevara's lawyers appealed, and the court granted administrative closure of the case. He wasn't being deported. But he wasn't given legal residency either. Instead, the government issued him a work permit, his lawyer said. With a shrug, he went back to work. Guevara is arguably the most-watched journalist covering Ice operations in the United States, a story that the English-language media had largely been missing, Gonzales said. And local police were well aware of his work. He has been negotiating with them for access to immigration enforcement scenes for more than a decade. 'Mario Guevara is well known – sometimes liked sometimes not – but definitely well known by law enforcement agencies, particularly in DeKalb county and Gwinnett county, and also with federal agents, and particularly immigration agents,' Gonzales said. Gonzales, among others, believes this put a target on his back in the current administration. 'It seems like law enforcement coordinated and colluded with the federal agents,' Gonzales said. Gonzales points to the misdemeanor traffic charges laid by the Gwinnett county sheriff's office shortly after Guevara's arrest in DeKalb county by the Doraville police department as evidence. 'The facts and the timeline indicate that pretty clearly to anybody that's been following this,' he claimed. 'In this regard it's particularly troubling, given that he is a journalist and his situation. He had no reason to have been targeted for his arrest.' The Department of Homeland Security has not responded to a request for comment about their relationship with local law enforcement. The Gwinnett county sheriff's office said in a response to a lawmaker's inquiry that it cooperates with Ice when deemed 'mutually beneficial' but has not responded to requests for additional comment. Doraville's police chief, Chuck Atkinson, has not replied to an email seeking answers and fled from questions about the case at a city hearing. But Doraville's mayor, Joseph Geierman, denied a connection between Ice and Doraville's arrest of Guevara. On 14 June, the day of his arrest, in Atlanta's DeKalb county, Guevara darted around a Doraville police truck. A group of riot cops nearby took note. One shouted 'last warning, sir! Get out of the road!' Guevara was helmeted and wearing a black vest over his red shirt with the word 'PRESS' in white letters. James Talley, an officer with the Doraville police department, was wearing an olive drab Swat jumpsuit with a helmet and gas mask. A masked demonstrator set off a smoke bomb near the cops. Guevara ran into the street with a stabilized camera in hand to capture the police reaction and the crowd scampering out of the way, as was shown on a police body camera video. Police had issued a dispersal order and were kettling protesters out of Chamblee-Tucker Road. They chased the suspected bomb thrower into the crowd, to no avail. But Guevara was in front of them on a grassy slope. Police from DeKalb county managing the raucous protest had been taking verbal abuse from demonstrators for a while – a sharp contrast from other protests around Atlanta held that day. The protest was winding down. Body camera video from the event suggests Talley was in an arresting mood. 'Keep your eye on the guy in the red shirt,' Talley said to another Swat officer from Doraville. 'If he gets to the road, lock his ass up.' Talley pulled another police officer aside. 'If he gets in the road, he's gone,' Talley said. 'He's been warned multiple times.' The other officer drew a finger across his chest. 'The press?' Yep, Talley replied. The three of them waited about 50ft away as a DeKalb county police officer approached Guevara on the hill, ordering him to get on the sidewalk. Guevara backed away from the officer, his attention focused on the recording, took two steps into the street, and the Doraville police pounced. Guevara pleaded for the police to be reasonable. 'I'm with the media, officer!' Guevara said. 'Let me finish!' People shouted at the officers 'That's the press!' as they walked him handcuffed to a vehicle. 'Why are you all taking him! He didn't do nothing.' More than one million people were watching Guevara's livestream when he was arrested. Trump has stepped up his rhetorical attacks on journalists since his inauguration. Last week, he described a reporter asking about warnings and emergency response in the Texas flooding disaster as 'an evil person', an epithet he has turned to with increasing frequency. The Guevara case is a sign of increasing hostility toward a free press, said Katherine Jacobsen, a program coordinator for the Committee to Protect Journalists. She traced a through line from the Associated Press being barred from government briefings after it refused to accept the renaming of the Gulf of Mexico to the 'Gulf of America', then lawsuits and investigations reopened against media companies, then attacks on journalists covering protests in Los Angeles, then Australian writer Alistair Kitchen's deportation seemingly in relation to his reporting on student protests. 'Next thing you know, we have Mario Guevara, a long time Spanish-language reporter in the Atlanta metro area, who is in Ice detention,' she said. 'It's growing increasingly concerning by the day.' Guevara's audience views it as more than an attack on press freedom, though. They view it as an attack on themselves. 'He's a test case to push the envelope for legal immigrants that have committed no crime, to trump up charges against them,' GALEO's Gonzales said. 'And the second piece is how to target journalists.' Sign up to This Week in Trumpland A deep dive into the policies, controversies and oddities surrounding the Trump administration after newsletter promotion Guevara's arrest set off an immigration nightmare akin to the kind he has spent the last decade documenting. His arrest on a Saturday led to a weekend in DeKalb county's decaying jail and a bond hearing that Monday. A magistrate court judge granted Guevara a no-dollar bond, but by then Ice had become aware of the arrest and placed Guevara on a hold. The jail released him into Ice custody, and held him briefly in a metro Atlanta facility. The next day, Gwinnett county charged Guevara with three misdemeanor traffic offenses, claiming that they were related to Guevara livestreaming a law enforcement operation a month earlier. The charges would be sufficient to keep him in jail and provide Ice an argument for his deportation at a federal bond hearing. The Gwinnett county sheriff's office said Guevara's livestreaming 'compromised' investigations. Guevara's attorneys tried to work quickly, Diaz said. 'The detained dockets are so backed up, and the immigration detention centers are so overwhelmed that what used to take us two or three days to get a bond hearing now is taking about a week,' he said. Attorneys working for immigration enforcement argued in court that Guevara's reporting constituted a 'threat' to immigration operations. Jacobsen with CPJ was listening to the hearing when the government made that argument. 'We felt a sense of alarm,' she said. 'Alarm bells were raised by the government's argument, as well as the judge not necessarily pushing back against the government's argument that live streaming poses a danger to threaten law enforcement actions.' The immigration judge granted Guevara a $7,500 bond for the immigration case. But Guevara's family was not allowed to pay it because government attorneys appealed the bond order to the board of immigration appeals. But it took seven days for the court to issue a stay to the government's appeal. Meanwhile, Ice began playing musical jail cells with Guevara. Over the course of the next three weeks, Ice shuttled Guevara between three different counties around Atlanta and eventually to the massive private prison Ice uses in Folkston, Georgia, 240 miles south-east of Atlanta on the Florida line. 'We weren't surprised that they appealed, because the government's reserving and in most cases appealing everything, even stuff where they shouldn't appeal because they're wasting everybody's time,' Diaz said. 'But we didn't really know the breadth of what they were trying to do to him.' Earlier this week, Todd Lyons, Ice's acting director, issued a memo changing its policy on bond hearings, arguing that detainees are not entitled to those hearings before their deportation case is heard in court. Immigration advocates expect to challenge the move in court. But Guevara is not facing a criminal charge. The Gwinnett county solicitor's office dropped the traffic charges last week, noting that two of them could not be prosecuted because they occurred on private property – the apartment complex – and the third lacked sufficient evidence for a conviction. For now, Ice has mostly kept Guevara in medical wards in jails even though he is healthy, Diaz said. 'From the beginning, they've been keeping Mario under a special segregation because they're claiming he's a public figure. They want to make sure nothing happened to him.' Doraville is a municipality of about 10,800 in DeKalb county with a separate police force, and had been asked to assist managing the protest in the immigrant-heavy Embry Hills neighborhood nearby. Protests have become a regular occurrence in DeKalb county since the Trump administration's immigration raids began. Doraville's cops have displayed a more cooperative relationship with immigration law enforcement than many other metro Atlanta departments, and observers have raised questions about whether its police department arrested Guevara to facilitate an Ice detainer. Geierman, the mayor, denied those accusations. 'The Doraville police department was not operating under the direction of, or in coordination with, US Immigration and Customs Enforcement (Ice) during the June 14th protest,' he said in a statement. 'To the department's knowledge, no Ice personnel were present at the event. Doraville officers were on site to support the DeKalb county sheriff's office as part of a coordinated public safety effort.' Observers have also questioned Guevara's charges from Gwinnett county – ignoring traffic signs, using a communication device while driving, and reckless driving – that stemmed from an incident that occurred in May, a month before his arrest. 'Mario Guevara compromised operational integrity and jeopardized the safety of victims of the case, investigators, and Gwinnett county residents,' the department said in a statement. But Gwinnett's belated prosecution left his attorneys gobsmacked. 'In the narrative that they put out, they say he was livestreaming a police operation, and he was interfering,' Diaz said. 'But when they went to a judge to get warrants, the only warrants the magistrate was able to sign for them was for traffic violations. I mean, that's kind of telling.' 'I think the whole thing is suspicious,' he added. 'From the beginning, just everything seemed they were really making efforts to make it difficult for him to go free.' Marvin Lim, a Filipino American state representative whose district contains the apartment complex in Gwinnett in Guevara's citation, has asked the sheriff's office a detailed set of questions about the department's relationship with federal immigration enforcement. He has not received an adequate response, he said in an open letter to the sheriff. An array of six advocacy organizations challenged Gwinnett's sheriff, Keybo Taylor, in a letter Tuesday over Guevara's arrest and the sheriff's posture toward immigration enforcement, demanding details about the relationship. GALEO, among them, also issued a separate letter Wednesday calling on Taylor to be transparent about the Guevara arrest. Guevara 'was arrested while doing the vital work that journalists in a democracy do', GALEO's letter states. 'Not only do the circumstances surrounding his incarceration and subsequent immigration detainment stir serious civil rights concerns, but they also build upon an expanding sense of fear and confusion in Georgia's most diverse county.' 'I am being persecuted,' Guevara wrote in a 7 July letter seeking humanitarian intercession from, of all people, Nayib Bukele, El Salvador's rightwing president. 'I am about to complete a month in jail, and I need to get out in order to continue with my life, return to my work, and support my family,' Guevara wrote. 'I have lived in the United States for nearly 22 years. I had never been arrested before. In these past three weeks, I have been held in five different jails, and I believe the government is trying to tarnish my record in order to deport me as if I were a criminal.' Guevara's American-born son turned 21 this year, permitting him to sponsor Guevara's green card and eventual citizenship. His application is pending, Diaz said. It may not matter. 'This is the first time I've ever seen a stay filed for someone who has no convictions, has almost no criminal history in 20 years, and only had pending traffic violations,' Diaz said. 'It's clear that everybody's working really hard to keep him detained.'


The Guardian
a minute ago
- The Guardian
To defeat Trump, the left must learn from him
In the first six months of his second term as president, Donald Trump has dominated the national political conversation, implemented an aggressive agenda of constitutional reform, scrambled longstanding American alliances, and helped alter US political culture. Pro-democracy forces have been left with their heads spinning. They (and I) have spent too much time simply denouncing or pathologizing him and far too little time learning from him. And there is a lot to learn. Not since the middle of the twentieth century, when Franklin Delano Roosevelt led a constitutional revolution, has any president achieved so much of his agenda in so short a time. But to recognize Trump's political genius is not to say that it has been put to good use or that he has been a good president. Like others who see 'connections and possibilities in circumstances that even people who are smart in conventional ways do not see,' the president has shown himself to be adept at reading the temper of the times, exploiting weaknesses in others, and assembling a coalition of the faithful that others would have never thought possible. What PittNews' Grace Longworth wrote last September has been confirmed since he returned to the Oval Office. 'Trump is not as crazy or dumb as his opposition would like to believe he is,' Longsworth said. Trump's genius is demonstrated by his ability to transform 'calamitous errors into political gold'. In the past six months, he has continued to do what he has done since he first appeared on the national political scene. From then until now, he has convinced millions of Americans to buy into his version of events and not to believe what they see with their eyes. Insurrectionists become patriots. Law-abiding immigrants become threats to America's way of life. Journalists become 'enemies of the people'. It's magic. Of course, the last six months have not been all smooth sailing for the president, who is now embroiled in a controversy about releasing material about the child sexual offender Jeffrey Epstein. But Trump succeeds because he is undaunted by critics and unfazed by the kinds of barriers that would throw any ordinary politician off their game. When necessary, he makes things up and repeats them until what he says seems to be real. None of this is good for democracy. Trump has done what millions of Americans want done: transform the political system. He has not been afraid to call into question constitutional verities. The greatest, and most dangerous, achievement of the president's first six months has been reshaping the balance of power among the executive, legislative, and judicial branches. The president has activated a political movement that has produced what Yale Law Professor Bruce Ackerman describes as 'constitutional moments.' In those moments, fundamental political change happens without any formal change in the language of the Constitution itself. 'Normal politics is temporarily suspended in favor of a 'constitutional politics,' focused on fundamental principles.' Since January, the Trump administration's actions have indeed focused the attention of the nation on such principles. Like it or not, Donald Trump is turning the constitution on its head, changing it from a Republican to an authoritarian document. And with every passing day, we see that transformation happening. The Republican majority in Congress seems eager to let the president reshape the constitution and take on functions that it clearly assigns to the legislature. Tariffs, Congress is supposed to decide. Dissolving executive departments, Congress is supposed to decide. War powers, they belong to Congress. But you'd never know any of that from the way the president has behaved since 20 January. The supreme court has followed suit, giving its blessing to his aggressive assertions of executive authority even when they violate the clear meaning of the constitution. The court even severely limited the role of the lower courts by denying them the right to issue nationwide injunctions to stop the president from acting illegally. Beyond Congress and the court, it seems clear that pro-democracy forces did not do all they could have to prepare for this moment. Trump's opponents have not learned from Trump how to effectively counter his 'constitutional moment'. So what can we do? We can learn from Trump the importance of telling a simple, understandable story and sticking to it. Pro-democracy forces need to pick a message and repeat it again and again to drive it home. There is surely no one in America who has not heard the phrase Make America Great Again and does not associate Maga with Trump. We can learn to appeal to national pride and drive home that national greatness requires addressing the daily experiences of ordinary Americans in language of the kind they use. Make America Affordable Again. Make America Work Again for Everyone. Think X, Instagram, and what works on a podcast. Pro-democracy forces can learn to be as determined and undaunted in defense of democracy as the president has been in his assault on it. Take off the gloves. Show your teeth, take no prisoners. Trump has shown that it matters to voters not just what you stand for but also how you go about standing for it. Sign up to Fighting Back Big thinkers on what we can do to protect civil liberties and fundamental freedoms in a Trump presidency. From our opinion desk. after newsletter promotion Smile less, swear more. We can learn from the president that political success requires building a movement and not being trapped by the norms and conventions of existing political organizations. Remember Trump has gotten to where he is not by being an acolyte of Republican orthodoxy but by being a heretic. In the age of loneliness, pro-democracy forces need to give people the sense that they are caught up in a great cause. We can learn from the president that if the pro-democracy movement is to succeed, it needs to offer its own version of constitutional reform. Stop talking about preserving the system and start talking about changing it in ways that will make government responsive and connect it to the lives that people live. The six-month mark in his second term is a good moment to dedicate or rededicate ourselves to that work. Every Friday since April, I have organized a Stand Up for Democracy protest in the town where I live. People show up. They hold signs and come to bear witness, even if what they do will not convert anyone to democracy's cause. They want to affirm their belief that democracy matters, and they want to do so publicly. Some are fearful, worried that they will somehow be punished for participating, but they show up. In addition, Harvard University's willingness to resist the Trump administration's demands that threatened academic freedom and institutional independence set a powerful example. Whether or not the university reaches an agreement with the administration, Harvard's example will still matter. It is also true, as Axios reports, that protests against Trump administration policies and allies 'have attracted millions in the last few months: Tesla Takedown in March, Hands Off! and 50501 in April, May Day, No Kings Day in June, and Free America on Independence Day'. Another mass event, 'Good Trouble Lives On,' occurred on 17 July, 'commemorating the fifth anniversary of the death of civil rights leader and former Rep John Lewis'. Those events need to happen more frequently than once a month. But they are a start. Axios cites Professor Gloria J Browne-Marshall, who reminds us that 'effective protesting often starts with an emotional response to policy or an event, swiftly followed by strategy … The current movement is reaching that second stage'. In that stage, it has a chance to ''actually make change in the government'.' I think that the seeds of that kind of opposition have been planted. But there is no time to waste if we are to prevent Trump's political ingenuity from succeeding in permanently reshaping the institutions and practices of our constitutional republic towards authoritarianism. Austin Sarat, William Nelson Cromwell professor of jurisprudence and political science at Amherst College, is the author or editor of more than 100 books, including Gruesome Spectacles: Botched Executions and America's Death Penalty