logo
The Rev William Barber's ‘moral movement' confronts Trump's America. Can it work?

The Rev William Barber's ‘moral movement' confronts Trump's America. Can it work?

The Guardian2 days ago
On 2 June, at St Mark's Episcopal church in Washington DC, people packed the sanctuary – elders in denim jackets, seminarians in collars, organizers clutching clipboards. Some had come in from North Carolina; others walked from their homes just a few blocks away. The seats were full, so the crowd lined the aisles and leaned against the red-brick walls beneath stained-glass windows that cast streaks of light across the floor.
It was the first Moral Monday of the summer – a tradition of weekly, nonviolent protest that began in North Carolina in 2013 and now serves as the beating heart of the Rev William Barber's national movement to end poverty and systemic injustice. 'I am not afraid,' the congregation sang. They clapped in rhythm. They swayed in place. Their voices, layered and lived in, reverberated through the rafters: 'I would die for liberation, because I know why I was made.' It was part worship, part invocation, part warning. They folded into the center of the sanctuary as they sang covenants of nonviolence – pledges to neither resist arrest nor retaliate, to remain disciplined and dignified in the face of confrontation. One organizer stepped forward and asked them to consider the gravity of what they were saying. 'In every cell of your body,' he said, 'do you believe that?'
Barber, the co-chair of the revived Poor People's campaign, a national movement to challenge inequality in all its forms through moral protest and policy change, has spent years preparing people for moments like this. Barber draws on a tradition that views justice as a covenant rather than charity, as a sacred demand to confront moral rot. Right now, that means challenging the Trump administration's second-term agenda – and the Republican-controlled Congress advancing legislation that would slash Medicaid, food assistance and public education, while simultaneously giving tax breaks to some of the wealthiest Americans – or, what Barber has simply called 'policy murder', a wholesale dismantling of services for the poor and vulnerable.
But Barber's battle is both a moral rebellion against Trump's America and against the deeper architecture of inequality that has survived every administration. His movement doesn't simply resist a president. It challenges a political theology that weds nationalism to capitalism and cloaks exploitation in scripture. In Barber's view, Trump isn't the disease – he's the symptom of a nation that never fully confronted its sins. 'Jesus was not crucified because he was just talking about private sin,' he told me. 'He was crucified because he turned over the money tables. That's where government and religion had come into an unholy relationship, and were robbing from the poor.'
In a sermon the day before, Barber had turned to 2 Kings – to four lepers outside a besieged city, caught between certain death and uncertain deliverance. 'Why sit we here until we die?' they ask, before rising to move toward the enemy camp. That movement, Barber reminded his audience, is what made the miracle possible. The lepers rose to risk the unknown and found the enemy had already left, leaving behind food, shelter and silver. Deliverance had already come; it just took the marginalized to move first. The US is in its own such moment, Barber said. 'This is murder by policy,' he preached, pointing to the $1.1tn in proposed cuts to healthcare, food aid and climate infrastructure. 'We cannot stay here and die.'
Organizers passed protest signs around the sanctuary like communion: Fund Life, Not Death. Our Faith Demands Justice, Not Policy Murder. Handouts followed: 13.7 million people are at risk of losing health insurance. Eleven million at risk of losing food assistance. Billions redirected from public programs to tax breaks for corporations, defense contractors and deportation forces. Congress was deliberating over what Barber calls a 'big, bad, ugly, disgusting, deadly budget', and they wanted to take a moral stand.
The room was intentionally diverse – it's what Barber calls a fusion movement, rooted in the idea that poor and working people across race, religion and region have a moral force capable of reshaping the nation. They prayed. They assigned roles. Some would march. Some would risk arrest. All would bear witness. Slowly, deliberately, the congregation began to move. First, those in wheelchairs; then the people along the walls peeled off. Then, one section at a time, released with care – no rush, no clamor. They lined up two by two, like they were boarding an ark. It was a practiced procession, not chaos. The organizers had been clear: move like the black-and-white footage you've seen, like those who marched before you – with order, with discipline, with conviction.
'When politicians and priests bless policies that hurt the poor,' Barber said, 'that's when the prophets have to rise.' For Barber, this is the prophet's role: to expose, to indict and to force a moral reckoning in the public square. The structure of his movement's actions, the insistence on grounding resistance in both scripture and strategy, is shaped by a long religious protest tradition in the US. Now, under a second Trump term, with safety nets unraveling and rights under siege, that witness feels urgent again. As the movement experiments with decentralized leadership, more youth recruitment and a sharper digital presence, it will have to decide: is it a movement to awaken the conscience, or to seize the wheel? Can this movement still meet the scale of today's coordinated assault on democracy, rights and the poor?
Barber met the demonstrators at the corner of East Capitol St NE and 1st St SE, where the procession paused before the slow walk towards the steps of the supreme court. He stood with his cane in hand, a white stole slung over his shoulders that read: Jesus was a poor man. He joined the group like a hinge between past and present. No microphone. No grand announcement. Just a nod, a steadying breath, and then a turn toward the supreme court.
Passersby smiled and posed for selfies, unaware or unbothered by the stakes. The procession kept moving, singing as they went. The air filled with hymns and the weight of memory. At the court steps, the crowd swelled; marshals implored folks to move closer. They sang battle hymns through the speaker system, a thread of the sacred pulled taut across the concrete. The day was structured to echo the civil rights movement, orderly, solemn and visually potent.
When Barber took the mic, he drew on the movement's rhetorical authority as well. 'We gather here not in protest alone,' Barber said, 'but in prophetic power. We stand not just as people of faith, but as stewards of moral memory. Injustice has written itself into the budget lines, and silence is not an option when lives hang in the balance of a ledger.' Barber reminded the crowd that the country's wounds were not just policy failures; they were moral abscesses. 'There can be no healing of the soul of America without healing the body,' he said. Not while people are starving. Not while they're uninsured. Not while injustice is passed off as fiscal responsibility.
He said something similar in 2020, in the days after Biden was elected president and many people across the nation released what felt like four years of held breath. Biden called for unity; Barber pushed back. 'There has to be division before there can be healing,' he said. In Barber's theology, peace doesn't mean calm. It means justice. False unity, he warned, is not reconciliation – it's complicity. And that is the deeper challenge beneath Barber's movement: not just to resist one budget, or even one party, but to confront the country's underlying sickness: its habit of mistaking cruelty for order, and order for peace.
'They say they're cutting waste, fraud and abuse. But what they're saying is it's wasteful to lift people fraudulent to help them live, and abusive to make sure they have healthcare,' he said. For a moment, it felt like the church services I'd grown up in. Come on, Barber! a clergyman shouted. Yessuh! a resonant voice rang from the other side of the crowd. By the time Barber started whooping – stretching his syllables as his voice reached a thunderous crescendo – the crowd had been whipped into a passionate holler.
Barber told stories of movement members who died without care – Pam in Alabama, Jade in North Carolina – who called him not for comfort, but for commitment. Don't quit, they said. 'They had the courage to fight even while they were dying,' he said. 'We ought to have the courage to fight while we're living.'
Then he slowed and asked a simple question to those gathered: 'What will you do with the breath you have left?' The question hung in the air. He didn't wait for an answer. A few days later, he told me why it sticks with him. 'That was George Floyd's cry. That was my brother's cry – he died in his 60s, waiting on healthcare. That was the cry of people during Covid: 'I can't breathe.' That's what I hear when I say that,' he told me. 'The breath you have left – that's what you've been given. That's what you owe.'
Breath was a gift and a responsibility. 'We're not gonna sit here and let healthcare die,' he said. 'We're not gonna sit here and let living wages die. We're not gonna sit here and let democracy die. It's time to live. It's time to stand. It's time to speak. To protest. To live justice.' The line echoed down 1st Street. Whether it reached the halls of power was another question.
Barber has always insisted this movement isn't built for the news cycle. 'Movements are not driven by whether the media covers it,' he told me. 'They're driven by whether it's right. You don't build fusion coalitions because it's sexy, you build it because it's necessary.'
The spotlight matters, though. And as the glare has dimmed since 2020, so too has the movement's leverage in elite policy spaces. For Obery Hendricks, a professor in the department of religion at Columbia University, the tension is theological and tactical. Barber speaks from the Black prophetic tradition, a tradition that calls out injustice with moral clarity. But clarity alone isn't always enough. 'Too often, prophetic rhetoric is co-opted as performance,' Hendricks told me. 'It becomes poetry without praxis.'
But even when the national spotlight is not focused on the organization, that hasn't stopped the Poor People's campaign from lining up in moral opposition to what it sees as destructive policy across the country. 'People say, where's the movement?' Barber told me. 'We say, where are you? The movement is here. Maybe you're just not paying attention.' Fusion organizing in 2025 isn't theory – it's practice. Amazon workers marching with choirs in Alabama. Climate activists linking arms with veterans on Capitol Hill. Disability advocates and union reps shaping policy in North Carolina. Barber's once-local campaign is now connected with movements across the country, from Georgia's voting rights drives to Los Angeles's housing struggles.
Sometimes, the actions pay off. Inside of St Mark's, I met Emma Biggs, a childcare advocate from North Carolina who had made the trip to DC for the rally. She had joined similar protests before. In June of last year, she was among those who were arrested inside the state legislature while protesting a looming childcare shortfall. The state legislature had passed a stopgap funding bill by the time protesters were released.
To Vaughn A Booker, a scholar of religion and African American history at the University of Pennsylvania, though, the power of Barber's model lies more in its moral insurgency than the results it produces. 'He has this style that's like a preacher reading out the names on judgment day. He's not just naming problems. He's naming people, policies and outcomes,' Booker said. 'It lands differently when it comes from the pulpit.' And maybe that's the point. In an era of institutional drift, moral confrontation remains a kind of clarity. 'Moral discourse may not be a dominant mobilizer anymore,' he said. 'But that was always the case. The prophets didn't expect to win. They expected to witness.'
Barber echoed the sentiment. Bearing moral witness matters even when it doesn't automatically produce results, because failing to show up at all cedes ground unnecessarily. 'A moral fight is one that you have to engage, because not to engage is to risk damage that might not be reversible,' he said. 'If a group of politicians were going to crucify voting rights and crucify healthcare, then every crucifixion needs a witness.'
Not everyone will be reachable through scripture, though. Whereas nearly half of Americans attended weekly religious services at the height of the civil rights movement, only about 30% of Americans do so now, according to a recent Gallup poll. Barber sees the rising suspicion of moral language, and the growing distance from the church, but he doesn't see it as an obstacle; rather, he sees an opportunity. 'Young people are not leaving the faith because they don't want justice,' he told me. 'They're leaving because we've too often offered them religion without justice, and theology without truth.' So, he remains committed to preaching in public, to claiming a tradition that doesn't just soothe, but disrupts with the intent of building a kind of moral pressure. Barber believes the system has rotted at its core. It's why he often refers to a sickness in the country's body, a deterioration of its heart – but he also believes it has the capacity to be reformed, and is drawing on a prophetic tradition to push it towards change. 'He's operating within the system,' Booker told me. 'He's not outside of it burning it down. He's trying to get the system to live up to its stated values.'
Barber's strategy mirrors that of Martin Luther King Jr a generation before: not to write legislation personally, but to focus enough attention on a moral crisis that the system has to respond. The marches weren't meant to replace lawmaking, but to expose it – to show where justice had failed, and to make action unavoidable.
Barber began a labored walk to the Capitol. A woman caught up to him quietly and asked if he had a moment to speak. His eyes were forward, fixed on the entrance. 'If you don't mind,' he said gently, 'I'm trying to focus on what I'm doing.' She apologized and nodded, but had to say her piece.
She walked beside him and told him that the A was missing from DEI – the A for accessibility. So many movements, she said, leave out people with disabilities. People who walk with a limp. Barber smirked. 'Oh, people like me?' he said. The procession stopped and Barber, alongside a small group, descended down the elevator.
This is where conviction met cost. At the Capitol rotunda, the group prayed with the purpose of arrest. Suvya Carroll, a disability rights advocate born with cerebral palsy, clutched a Bible. Carroll told Barber she and her friend were there because 'people like us always get left out. But we believe this movement sees us.' As Capitol police moved in, she was arrested along with Barber and five others. Barber later reflected on Carroll's arrest in particular: 'That child looked the Capitol police in the eye and said: 'I'm ready.' And we all prayed. Right there, in the middle of that dome. And I thought, Lord, if this doesn't matter, what does?'
The arrest was symbolic – the third time Moral Monday activists had been detained since April – but it also surfaced a deeper truth. The witness came from many, but the weight still fell on one. When Barber turned toward the elevator, others followed. And once inside the rotunda, all eyes returned to him. As questions swirl around the future of his organization, a harder one remains: how long can a movement built on moral clarity lean on a single voice? Barber's voice remains central, but the campaign's future may depend on how well it distributes that moral authority across a broader base. If the theology is prophetic, the structure has to be plural.
Barber's protest is grounded not in outcome, but in obligation. He's asked: what will you do with the breath you have left? For Barber, that's not just a question. It's a way to keep moving. 'This country gets amnesia,' he told me. 'We forget. That's why prophetic work is not about a moment. It's about building a memory that resists the lie.' Even though he's become a brand, he's trying to build a witness. 'I don't want people to follow me, I want them to follow the truth,' he said.
'Prayer,' he likes to say, 'is never the end of protest. It's the beginning of a demand.' That day in the rotunda, his prayer echoed through marble. Maybe it reached no one. Maybe it moved someone. But it was heard.
That's the point of prophecy. Not certainty. Witness.
Orange background

Try Our AI Features

Explore what Daily8 AI can do for you:

Comments

No comments yet...

Related Articles

US to remove Syria's Hayat Tahrir al-Sham from list of foreign terrorist groups
US to remove Syria's Hayat Tahrir al-Sham from list of foreign terrorist groups

BBC News

time26 minutes ago

  • BBC News

US to remove Syria's Hayat Tahrir al-Sham from list of foreign terrorist groups

The US is set to take the Syrian Islamist group Hayat Tahrir al-Sham (HTS) off its list of foreign terrorist organisations on Tuesday, according to a state department memo. The group led a rebel offensive in December that toppled the Assad regime, which had ruled Syria for 54 years. Its leader Ahmed al-Sharaa is now the country's interim also known as al-Nusra Front, was previously al-Qaeda's affiliate in Syria until al-Sharaa severed ties in 2016. In recent months, Western countries have sought to reset relations with Syria - which has faced heavy sanctions aimed at the old regime. In late June, Trump signed an executive order to formally end US sanctions against the country, with the White House saying the move was intended to support its "path to stability and peace".It added it would monitor the new Syrian government's actions including "taking concrete steps toward normalising ties with Israel" as well as "addressing foreign terrorists" and "banning Palestinian terrorist groups".Syrian Foreign Minister Asaad al-Shibani said the move would "lift the obstacle" to economic recovery and open the country to the international Friday, Syria said it was willing to cooperate with the US to reimplement a 1974 disengagement agreement with the weekend, UK Foreign Secretary David Lammy visited Syria - the first government minister to do so in 14 met with al-Sharaa and announced an additional £94.5m support package - aimed at supporting longer-term recovery and countries helping Syrian UK earlier lifted sanctions on Syria's defence and interior ministries. Ninety percent of Syria's population were left under the poverty line when the Assad regime was ousted after 13 years of devastating civil has promised a new Syria, but there are concerns within the country about how the new government is operating - with some suspicious of his radical past. Only one female government minister has been appointed to date - and al-Sharaa has made almost every other appointment directly. There have also been multiple violent attacks against minority groups in recent months. In March, hundreds of civilians from the minority Alawite sect were killed during clashes between the new security forces and Assad-loyalists. In April there were deadly clashes between Islamist armed factions, security forces and fighters from the Druze religious minority. And in June at least 25 people were killed in a suicide attack on a church in Damascus.

Kennedy family has NEW black sheep after second figure was snubbed from July 4 party alongside RFK Jr
Kennedy family has NEW black sheep after second figure was snubbed from July 4 party alongside RFK Jr

Daily Mail​

time29 minutes ago

  • Daily Mail​

Kennedy family has NEW black sheep after second figure was snubbed from July 4 party alongside RFK Jr

The Kennedy family reunited over the holiday weekend for their annual Fourth of July celebration - but two scandal-plagued members of America's most iconic political dynasty were noticeably absent. In a video posted by Kerry Kennedy on Saturday, dozens of relatives smiled and waved on the lawn of the family's Hyannis Port estate in Massachusetts, surrounded by flags and patriotic cheer. But nowhere to be seen were Robert F. Kennedy Jr. - long estranged from the clan - and JFK's only grandson, Jack Schlossberg, who appears to have become the family's newest black sheep. RFK Jr., 70, known for his anti-vaccine views and conspiracy theories, has been sidelined by much of the family for years. Readers in the comments were quick to point out both absences, with one asking, 'was Jack & schlossbergs there' and another bluntly writing, 'where is brain worm?' — a reference to the parasite discovered in RFK's brain during a 2012 health scare. Victoria Kennedy, Ted Kennedy's wife, commented underneath the video confirmed that every family member was invited, but some had other plans to attend. Schlossberg's notable absence comes amid growing public backlash over his increasingly erratic behavior. On the Fourth of July, as his relatives celebrated in Massachusetts, 32-year-old Schlossberg posted a bizarre Instagram reel - sporting a shaved head, a gaming headset, and a T-shirt reading 'I heart EU.' In the clip, filmed outdoors on a sunny lawn with trees in the background, the Harvard Law grad launched into an awkward mix of patriotism, revisionist history, and self-correction: 'Hello and happy Fourth of July. 'This year on the 4th of July, I'm wearing this shirt. Why? You ask, why am I not celebrating my own country today? Well, I am. 'This country wouldn't be anything without our European allies and partners. That's right. Without the French... there would be no America. 'Because in order to stand up to the great British Empire, we needed help. We needed the help of our Cuban allies and partners. We needed the help of our Mexican allies and partners. And we needed the help of our French allies and partners.' View this post on Instagram A post shared by Jack Schlossberg (@jackuno) He added: 'So on this 4th of July, yes. I'm celebrating my own country. Of course I am. I know what you're thinking. Mexico didn't - what? - didn't exist as a country, and Cuba's not in Europe. Well? I made a mistake. We all make mistakes. But... the point remains. And I'm not sure what that point is. But Happy Fourth of July, everybody.' Despite its meandering tone and historical flubs, the video was met with an overwhelmingly positive response in the comments - with many praising Schlossberg's message, humor, and delivery. Many fans were charmed by his mother's off-camera laughter. One commenter wrote: Your mom laughing makes me laugh even harder. She's a gem!' While another added: 'Is that Caroline giggling? Love!! Happy 4th of July! Days earlier, Schlossberg caused further uproar after launching a grotesque attack on journalist Megyn Kelly. Under a clip from Kelly's show about the Israel-Iran conflict, Schlossberg wrote: 'Looking extremely feminine!! Very good. Now show us your c@&6.' The sexually explicit comment was swiftly deleted - but not before screenshots were captured and shared widely. Kelly has yet to publicly respond, though she previously labeled Schlossberg 'despicable.' It wasn't the first time he's lashed out at Kelly. In February, Schlossberg deleted all of his social media accounts following a separate tirade targeting the conservative anchor over her views on transgender issues. Critics accused him of 'having a breakdown.' The meltdown didn't stop there. When Daily Mail columnist Maureen Callahan wrote about his behavior, Schlossberg lashed out again - telling both Callahan and Kelly to 'eat s***' and referring to the writer as 'Maureen V*****' in a string of unhinged posts. Despite positioning himself as a progressive voice and self-styled 'true Democrat,' critics say Schlossberg has become a full-time internet troll. His primary target has been his cousin, RFK Jr., whom he has labeled a 'liar,' a 'predator,' and a 'guru shaman figure.' In one bizarre April post, he challenged RFK Jr. to a one-on-one fight, writing: 'Me and you, one-on-one, locked in a room, we hash this out. Nobody comes out until one of us has autism. What do you say?' Schlossberg was hired by Vogue as a political correspondent in 2023 — but has not published anything since October 2024 He has also lashed out at other members of the Trump administration, suggesting in November that all of Trump's cabinet nominees be 'required to submit a stool sample,' writing: 'If they don't give a s*** about bodily autonomy, why not ask for one?' He tagged Trump's newly tapped health secretary in the same post and added, 'Lots to spare, much to be revealed.' More recently, Schlossberg inserted himself into yet another controversy — this time involving a new Ryan Murphy show about his late uncle, John F. Kennedy Jr., and Carolyn Bessette. 'Lately, my news feed has been filled with pictures of my uncle, John F. Kennedy Jr., a great man,' Schlossberg said in a video posted to Instagram. 'For those wondering whether his family was ever consulted, or has anything to do with the new shows being made about him, the answer is no.' He went on to explain that New York law doesn't protect a person's name and image after death, but insisted the producers should 'take seriously what he stood for' and 'donate some of the profits.' When Murphy shared photos of the lead actors, Paul Kelly and Sarah Pidgeon, Schlossberg jumped into the comments again, writing: 'HEY RYAN — admiration for John is great but maybe consider DONATING PROFITS TO THE KENNEDY LIBRARY thanks.' Murphy replied: '@jackuno I absolutely will.' Despite attempting to brand himself as the political heir to Camelot, Schlossberg has struggled to maintain professional credibility. After graduating from Harvard Law School in 2022, he was hired with great fanfare as a 'political correspondent' for Vogue. But the role quickly fizzled. He published only a handful of vague, insider-free columns and hasn't appeared in the magazine since October 2024.

Jeffrey Epstein's final moments revealed in 11-hour video showing what REALLY happened to the disgraced pedophile
Jeffrey Epstein's final moments revealed in 11-hour video showing what REALLY happened to the disgraced pedophile

Daily Mail​

time29 minutes ago

  • Daily Mail​

Jeffrey Epstein's final moments revealed in 11-hour video showing what REALLY happened to the disgraced pedophile

The Justice Department released a nearly 11-hour surveillance video showing the corridor outside Jeffrey Epstein 's prison cell the night he died in an attempt to put an end to the conspiracies that have swirled around death for nearly six years. Footage shows around 7:49 p.m. an orange jumpsuit-claden handcuffed man presumed to be Epstein being escorted to his cell by two guards the night of August 9, 2019. But a thick wooden handrail of a common-area staircase obscures the face of the inmate being escorted. The remainder of the several hours of video show activity in the area overnight, but no one walking back towards Epstein's cell, which is not on camera. That is until around 6:27 a.m. when activity could be seen around the area leading to Epstein's cell as guards received and prepared breakfast carts for the inmates. At 6:30 a.m., a very blurry image shows a guard running back into frame from where Epstein's cell was to what appears to be the guard station and then walking back. A prior report from the Justice Department said that between August 9, 2019 at 10:40 p.m. and 6:30 a.m. on August 10, no one was seen entering Epstein's cell tier. Release of the footage by the Justice Department was meant to prove that the disgraced financier and convicted child sex offender was not murdered despite a spate of online speculation that theorized Epstein did not kill himself. In January 2020, prosecutors claimed that the surveillance video outside of Epstein's cell the night of his death was accidentally destroyed. They claim the jail mistakenly kept footage from the wrong cell and that due to 'technical errors' video from his tier was gone because it was not saved in the backup system. This has only further fueled skepticism about his cause of death, especially now that video has been released. An unsigned memo with DOJ and FBI seals was published by Axios on Sunday night. It underscored that the agency, now under President Donald Trump's leadership, did not find any proof that Epstein had a client list of that he was murdered. The DOJ said that while the door was not in frame of the CCTV footage, anyone moving to or from it would be captured. The investigation, the memo states, concludes that Epstein was not murdered, he didn't blackmail powerful figures nor keep a so-called 'client list.' Attorney General Pam Bondi said on a few occasions that she was in possession of a such a 'client list' of high-profile figures who engaged in nefarious and illicit activity with Epstein. She said after reviewing the documents, she would publicize them at the behest of President Donald Trump. Epstein's associate Ghislaine Maxwell is already serving a 20-year sentence for child sex trafficking. The memo first published Sunday night by Axios says that no one involved in the case will be charged outside of Maxwell. Epstein was found unresponsive in his cell at the Metropolitan Correctional Center (MCC) in New York City when guards went to bring him breakfast after 6:30 a.m. on August 10, 2019. There was a bedsheet wrapped around Epstein's neck and he was in cardiac arrest. Prison guards initiated CPR. At 6:33 a.m., guards activated an alarm and notified supervisors of the incident. One said: 'Epstein hung himself.'

DOWNLOAD THE APP

Get Started Now: Download the App

Ready to dive into a world of global content with local flavor? Download Daily8 app today from your preferred app store and start exploring.
app-storeplay-store