Politics
High-tech and war are integrating some ultra-Orthodox Jews into Israel's secular society
Yakob Shoolman spent years studying the Torah, pouring over ancient scripture like many boys in his ultra-Orthodox Jewish neighborhood. He lived a sequestered religious life, marrying early and having four children before he was 30.
But these days Shoolman is learning how to code in a high rise with a view of the sea and a copy of a Steve Jobs biography nearby. His faith remains the center of his identity, but, like a number of students from traditional yeshiva schools, Shoolman wants to join this nation’s vibrant technology industry.
His aspirations come at a time when ultra-Orthodox Jews face increasing resentment from a larger, secular society over religious school subsidies and other benefits, including exemption from compulsory military service for Torah students. Those tensions and a move to limit the role of the Supreme Court led to mass street protests last year as far-right nationalist and religious parties became prominent voices in Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu’s coalition government. Many Israelis regard the power that religious parties wield as a threat to civil rights and the country’s democracy.
Students from ultra-Orthodox Jewish communities learn to code to become programmers and software developers at firms like Citibank and Mobileye.
That concern has been eclipsed somewhat as Israelis have united around the war with Hamas and a small but growing number of ultra-Orthodox Jews, known as Haredim, have started to push beyond the bounds of centuries-old tradition. They represent a generational shift that may lead to wider integration of religious conservatives into Israeli life and its economy.
“I don’t believe in separation. The gap between the Haredi and the secular is closing,” said Shoolman, 31, a student at JBH, a school that trains Haredi men to become programmers and software developers at firms like Citibank and Mobileye. “In this school, we’re exposed to many different people. It’s important to understand these worlds.”
He added that the war and an increased reliance on technology since COVID have drawn more ultra-Orthodox Jews out of their enclaves. Haredi have attended shivas for those killed by Hamas and 4,000 have volunteered for temporary emergency service in the army since the war began in October.
But moderates and secularists view such limited integration as hardly notable when Netanyahu’s government is increasing spending on Haredi projects. The government coalition’s discretionary spending for yeshiva schools — which teach little science or math — rose from $322 million in 2022 to $456 million in 2023. Hundreds of millions of dollars more have been allocated for cultural, religious and education programs, along with thousands of government funded jobs that benefit the ultra-Orthodox.
Haredim account for about 13% of Israel’s population of more than 9 million, but their average family size of about seven children is a drain on social welfare spending. The Israeli media have reported that poverty and low employment among Haredim could lead to a 16% tax increase on working Israelis and cost the nation’s economy $2 trillion over the next 40 years.
Students take a break between classes where they learn how to code and program. Ultra-Orthodox Jews face growing resentment from a larger, secular society over religious school subsidies and other benefits.
“The Haredim are the cornerstone to the clash of religion and state,” said Rabbi Uri Regev, head of Hiddush, an organization that advocates for religious freedom and equality. “This problem predates Netanyahu. All previous governments bent to the will of the Haredim.”
He added that the ultra-Orthodox, about 45% of whom are poor, “are a great weight and burden on society.”
”
A 2023 survey done by Hiddush before the war found that 70% of Jews in Israel believe the country’s “most acute internal conflict” is between ultra-Orthodox and secular Jews. The study showed that those fault lines were deep when it comes to military and educational issues: 78% opposed a blanket exemption on military service for ultra-Orthodox and 69% of Jews “support complete cancellation or a significant cut in funding” for yeshiva schools. That latter figure jumps to 93% for secular Jews.
Some fear the Haredim and the extreme right Religious Zionist Party could upset the Middle East and further damage prospects for peace with the Palestinans. Best-selling author and scholar Yuval Noah Harari wrote an essay in July in the left-leaning Haaretz newspaper under the headline: “What will happen to Judaism if Israeli democracy is destroyed by supremacist zealots?” He warned of “spiritual destruction” if a “messianic state” arises to persecute “Arabs, secular people, women and LGBTQ people.” What, he asked, “if that state were to embrace a racist ideology of Jewish supremacy?”
Haredim believe that God’s will shapes all destinies and that their devotion protects the state of Israel. They have long lived in segregated neighborhoods like Mea Shearim in Jerusalem and Bnei Brak near Tel Aviv. Men wearing side curls and black hats walk with sacred books to religious schools while Haredi women are the main breadwinners and child-care providers. Their large families gather on the Sabbath to stroll amid closed shops and quieted tram lines.
This portrait was resonant in the TV series “Shtisel”, about a Haredi father and his artistic son as they confronted nosy neighbors and matchmakers on cloistered streets while navigating the clamor and temptations of an encroaching outside world. The show was widely popular in Israel and provided a common ground that — for less than an hour each night — went beyond suspicions and stereotypes to give secular Jews a glimpse of a world few were intimate with.
Students at JBH, a school that trains Haredi men to become programmers and software developers, take a break and play a video game between classes.
“The other side needs to know that we are Israelis just like everyone else,” said Yitzhak Pindrus, a Knesset member of the ultra-Orthodox party United Torah Judaism, who blamed employers and the army for not doing more to integrate the Haredi. “We have a different culture and different traditions, but you don’t always need to come down on us.”
Computer students like Shoolman, whose wife founded a virtual reality production company, aspire to modern lifestyles and bigger incomes. That desire, however, is considered a threat by religious conservatives who worry such enticements may lead to liberal beliefs around marriage and civil rights — Haredi leaders have long opposed women praying at the Western Wall — and pull the young away from their faith.
“The Haredim are concerned that a person will become his work,” said Aaron Fruchtman, vice president of JBH, which has trained 500 Haredim since 2013, many of whom received government funds and private donations for tuition. “The question is, ‘How do we get a Haredi guy into the Israeli Defense Forces or into high-tech without him losing his religious identity?’ The Haredi idea is first you’re a servant of God, a Torah Jew. But integration in the workforce will break down barriers.”
The early days of Shoolman’s training were difficult. Like most students from yeshiva schools, Shoolman, whose family income is too high to receive public subsidies, knew no English and only a little math. “You’re starting from zero,” he said. “Literally from A,B,C.” He added that since the start of the pandemic, more younger Haredi have turned to technology, using email and rabbi-approved smartphones. His long hours of studying the Torah for years, he said, will help him with the rigors of coding and software.
“We have the ability to sit and learn and be dedicated,” Shoolman said as students played video game tennis on a big screen while others typed on keyboards. “The process of change is speeding up.” He tried to express the contradiction — the navigating of two unreconciled worlds— by joking, “I’m a mainstream, hardcore Haredi.”
The war with Hamas has led other Haredim into the military. Rabbi Ram Moshe Ravad, a Haredi who served for 29 years and retired as a lieutenant colonel and chief rabbi for the Air Force, helped enlist Haredi volunteers for short service after Oct. 7. Most had studied in yeshiva until age 26, which had allowed them military exemptions. Some volunteers went into basic training but many took nonfighting roles like mechanics, cooks and drivers.
“The Haredim are not against the army,” Ravad said. “What’s happened over the years, especially the last few years, is people have been coming out against Haredim. All these [political] movements were saying that Haredim are against the army. So the Haredim avoided serving in the army. Now we’ve come with a different approach. Whoever wants to learn the Torah should learn, and whoever isn’t learning should come [to the army].”
“The Haredim are concerned that a person will become his work,” said Aaron Fruchtman, vice president of JBH, which has trained 500 Haredim since 2013. “The question is, ‘How do we get a Haredi guy into the Israeli Defense Forces or into high-tech without him losing his religious identity?’ ”
Chemi Trachtenberg is a 21-year-old Haredi who enlisted three years ago. “It doesn’t matter if you like Bibi [Netanhayu] or not, if you like the Haredim or not,” he recently told the Jewish Telegraphic Agency, an international news service. “At the end of the day they [Hamas] want to kill us and we need prayers and weapons.”
The “Israelization” of the younger generation “of Haredim was already well underway when this war began,” Anshel Pfeffer wrote in a November opinion column in Haaretz. “It was only natural that those who were already less committed to cutting themselves off from society would feel shame as they saw hundreds of thousands of men and women their age being called up on the day of the [Hamas] massacre.”
He added: “For now, though, they remain a minority in their community. Aside from praying for Israel’s salvation, most of the Haredi groups have continued life as before.”
Regev, the rabbi, said to suggest the ultra-Orthodox are joining society is “an overly rosy characterization” when so many Haredim don’t have well-rounded educations that would benefit the nation’s economy. “The Haredi’s attitude of spiritual strengthening is anathema to the larger secular society,” he said, adding that the ultra-Orthodox oppose secular marriage, civil rights and using public transportation on the Sabbath. “They rely on the public coffers to perpetuate their own poverty.”
Regev said Israel faces two existential questions: the relationships between religion and state, and between Jews and Arabs. The one between religion and state, he said, often appears irreconcilable as the ultra-Orthodox place the sacred above the temporal even when it comes to immediate threats — from COVID to war — against Israel’s future.
Pindrus, the legislator, disagreed: “Haredim are part of the State of Israel,” he said. “What hurts the State of Israel hurts Haredim. Right now we’re in a period of pain, and we’re all feeling this pain.”
The week after Election Day in 2016, Shirley Morganelli, a women’s health nurse and lifelong Democrat, invited a dozen friends over to the living room of her rowhouse in Bethlehem, Pa., for a glass of wine. Actually, many glasses.
“Misery loves company,” she said.
Ms. Morganelli’s friends, mostly women then in their 50s and 60s, were teachers, nurses, artists and ardent supporters of Hillary Clinton. Some of them had dressed in suffragist white to cast their votes that day, expecting to celebrate the election of America’s first female president. Instead, they had ended the night consoling their college-aged daughters.
“When she called me at three o’clock in the morning — I get all choked up now, because it was the first time I couldn’t say, ‘Everything’s going to be all right,’” said Angela Sinkler, a nurse and former school board member in Bethlehem.
The get-together — Ms. Morganelli called it “unhappy hour” — became a regular event. By the end of the month, commiserating had turned into organizing. They started with writing postcards to elected officials calling on them to oppose Donald J. Trump’s agenda, then moved on to raising money for a local Planned Parenthood chapter and joining in community protests.
Local political candidates began showing up to their gatherings, too, and the group, now called Lehigh Valley ROAR, turned to campaigning. In 2018, several members were elected to City Council in Bethlehem, and Susan Wild, the city solicitor in nearby Allentown and old friend of Ms. Morganelli’s, was elected to Congress with the group’s support.
Lehigh Valley ROAR was one of more than 2,000 similar grass-roots groups formed in the wake of Mr. Trump’s first election — a moment of mass organization larger than even the Tea Party movement at its peak during President Barack Obama’s first term, said Theda Skocpol, a Harvard University professor of government and sociology who has studied both movements.
A vast majority of the groups were led by women, and many traced a similar arc to Ms. Morganelli’s, their shock at Mr. Trump’s election sparking political activism and then, often, electoral victories.
But then there was the defeat of Vice President Kamala Harris in November.
As Mr. Trump returns to the White House on Monday with a popular vote majority and a governing trifecta in Washington, there are few signs of the sort of mass public protest that birthed “the resistance” the last time he took office.
Mr. Trump’s inauguration in 2017 was met with the largest single-day public demonstration in American history. Although thousands marched in Washington Saturday and smaller protests were held in other cities, their numbers fell far short of the hundreds of thousands that rallied eight years ago.
Organizers of the 2017 efforts say this shift reflects the lessons learned from the street protests that took place early in the first Trump presidency, tactics that were quickly abandoned in favor of more strategic organizing — and that opposition to a second Trump term is unlikely to take the same forms.
But some concede that the opposition is more uncertain than it once was. Congressional Democrats and governors now openly debate the wisdom of locking arms against Mr. Trump’s agenda, as they eventually did during his first presidency. And Democrats still now bear scars from last year’s conflicts over Israel’s invasions of Gaza and Lebanon, their embrace of identity politics and President Biden’s aborted candidacy.
In 2017, “everything felt bigger, more important,” said Krista Suh, a screenwriter in Los Angeles. When the Women’s March was announced for the day after Mr. Trump’s swearing-in, Ms. Suh, a novice knitter, came up with a pattern for a cat-eared pink cap to wear to the protest and posted it online.
Within days, “pussy hats” became a ubiquitous emblem of anti-Trump dissent.
Ms. Suh has stayed somewhat politically involved; she canvassed for Ms. Harris in Arizona. But she had no plans to protest this weekend.
“I feel like I’m just so much more jaded now,” she said.
‘He Won the Popular Vote’
When members of Lehigh Valley ROAR assembled once again in Ms. Morganelli’s living room this month, days before Mr. Trump would return to the White House, few were certain about what they should do next. They had canvassed and phone-banked for Ms. Harris. “You name it, we did it,” Ms. Morganelli said.
Ms. Wild had lost her seat, too.
In the corner of Ms. Morganelli’s living room, a cardboard cutout of Mr. Obama still wore a pink hat from the 2017 Women’s March, which most of the group members had attended. But none of them were going to Washington to protest Mr. Trump’s inauguration.
Some members had come to question the effectiveness of the Women’s March. Others were now more concerned about the safety of demonstrating. Last fall, one member’s car was broken into by someone who also tore up the Harris yard signs she had in the back seat.
Four years after the Capitol riot on Jan. 6, 2021, Ms. Morganelli was ambivalent about the optics of protesting the outcome of a fair election.
“This time, he won the popular vote,” she said, referring to the president-elect. “As good Americans and good Democrats, you have to accept that, right?”
Instead of protest, the group planned to get together to drink wine and write thank-you notes to Mr. Biden. “Moving forward, all we can do is try to be our best selves as good citizens,” Ms. Morganelli wrote on the group’s Facebook page.
A Resistance With Some Regrets
In its early days, the opposition to Mr. Trump seemed to practically organize itself. Grieving liberals poured their energy into any vessel available. People who had never organized a protest in their lives were transformed into leaders of demonstrations of historic scale, sometimes overnight, as was the case for Naomi Lindquester.
Jolted by Mr. Trump’s election, Ms. Lindquester, then a 42-year-old elementary schoolteacher in Denver, created a Facebook event called Women’s March on Denver. She thought she would have to beg her friends to attend.
Instead, the day after Mr. Trump’s inauguration, a crowd estimated at more than 100,000 people arrived at the State Capitol to denounce the new president. It was likely the largest demonstration in the history of Colorado.
The Women’s March protests drew some 500,000 attendees to Washington and hundreds of thousands more rallied across the country. But the groups that materialized to organize them, often led by media-savvy young urban professionals, soon found themselves struggling to maintain momentum and, at times, infighting.
The national Women’s March organization splintered after one organizer accused others of antisemitism. Other groups disintegrated amid more prosaic conflicts over priorities and egos.
“It got really ugly, really fast,” said Ms. Lindquester, who has not spoken with her fellow organizers of the Denver march since they fell out in late 2018.
Many such groups, she believes, were victims of their sudden celebrity. “I’ll be really honest with you,” she said, “I very much enjoyed my 15 minutes of fame.”
Since November, Ms. Lindquester has found herself questioning the impact of the march she organized. “The fact that we did that ginormous march and he still got re-elected a second time?” she said.
She has mostly stepped back from public politics — a shift that was in part a result of her move from Denver to a small, conservative town elsewhere in the state, and the heightened scrutiny on teachers’ politics in recent years.
While she was proud of her role in the 2017 protest, “I don’t talk to anyone about that, because I will hear about it if I do,” she said.
In a Facebook post this month she suggested a list of actions that she argued would make a bigger difference now than marching: Plant trees. Volunteer in the community. “Engage with people who think differently than you and find your common ground.”
A New Message: ‘This Is Hard.’
Some argue that the energy is still out there, but the goals are different. Ezra Levin, the executive director of Indivisible, an organization he co-founded in 2017 to channel grass-roots opposition to Mr. Trump, said the group had registered more new local chapters since November than it had at any other point since 2017.
In a new blueprint for action released shortly after the election, Indivisible urged its members to focus not just on Mr. Trump and Congress but also on local elected officials — particularly Democrats in blue states that could serve as a bulwark for resisting Mr. Trump’s policies.
It conceded that “too often in Trump 1.0, we embraced the aesthetics of protests instead of using them as part of a strategy.”
“You shouldn’t start with a tactic,” Mr. Levin said. “You should start with a goal.”
In Ms. Morganelli’s living room, the Lehigh Valley ROAR members spoke of leaning on one another even more as some family members drifted away from their politics in recent years: children who had grown enamored with right-wing survivalism or opposition to vaccines during the coronavirus pandemic, or turned on Mr. Biden and Ms. Harris over their support for Israel.
“I lost my liberal, progressive son to Joe Rogan,” one said, as others nodded in sympathy.
They felt alienated from younger Democratic activists who seemed to see fighting Mr. Trump as a lesser priority than matters of ideological purity.
“If you’re not lefty-left enough, they are willing to sacrifice their vote and throw it away,” either by not voting or voting for a third-party candidate, said Lori McFarland, a member of the group who is now the chairwoman of the Lehigh County Democratic Committee. “And they’ve just set us back.”
Ms. Suh, the “pussy hat” creator, has not sought to reprise her role in the protest movement. She thought that a unifying phenomenon like her hat would still be possible — but the message should now be something different than the defiance of early 2017.
“I think,” she said, “it has to be something like: ‘I hear you. This is hard.’”
Politics
How will DeSantis, Youngkin and other 2028 hopefuls stay relevant outside the Trump administration?
During a busy week in the nation’s capital, far from the action, Florida Gov. Ron DeSantis had no trouble keeping his name in the political spotlight.
“This is a time for action. And a time for Washington, D.C., to deliver results to the American people. There are no more excuses for Republicans,” the conservative two-term governor and 2024 Republican presidential candidate said Thursday as he named Florida Attorney General Ashley Moody to succeed Sen. Marco Rubio in the Senate.
Two days earlier, President-elect Trump gave his onetime bitter GOP primary rival a shout-out after the governor called for a special state legislative session to implement Trump’s expected immigration crackdown.
“Thank you Ron, hopefully other governors will follow!” the president-elect said in a social media post.
VANCE IS THE EARLY FRONTRUNNER, BUT HERE ARE THE OTHER REPUBLICANS WHO MAY RUN FOR PRESIDENT IN 2028
Florida Gov. Ron DeSantis speaks and Utah Gov. Spencer Cox listens before President-elect Trump talks at a meeting with Republican governors at Mar-a-Lago Jan. 9, 2025, in Palm Beach, Fla. (AP Photo/Evan Vucci)
Due to the national profile he’s built over the past four years, the governor of one of the country’s most important states will likely continue to stay in the headlines as he takes a lead on some of the nation’s most consequential issues.
The spotlight should help DeSantis if he ends up launching a second straight GOP presidential nomination run in 2028, a race in which soon-to-be Vice President JD Vance will be considered the clear early frontrunner as the perceived America First and MAGA heir apparent to Trump.
“He needs to do what he did in 2022, which is pick good fights. And he’s shown a lot of capability to pick good fights with the left both in Florida and nationally,” longtime Republican strategist David Kochel said of DeSantis.
RNC CHAIR SAYS GOP HAS ‘DEEP BENCH’ FOR 2028
“I think he’ll be in demand to come do stuff in Iowa, New Hampshire and South Carolina,” Kochel, a veteran of numerous GOP presidential campaigns, predicted, pointing to the three key early voting states in the Republican presidential primaries.
“I wouldn’t change a lot from how he did the run-up to his 2024 campaign. The problem was he basically ran against an incumbent president. He didn’t have the wrong playbook. He had the wrong cycle.”
Florida Gov. Ron DeSantis holds a news conference with emergency officials as a hurricane bears down on his state Oct. 9, 2024 (AP)
While the initial moves in the 2028 White House run will likely start in the coming months, including some early state visits, most Americans won’t be paying a lick of attention until after the 2026 midterms, when the next presidential campaign formally gets under way. And that’s when DeSantis will be wrapping up his second and final four-year term steering Florida, allowing him to concentrate 100% on a White House run if that’s in his cards.
But what about another high-profile Republican governor who likely has national ambitions in 2028?
HERE ARE THE DEMOCRATS WHO MAY RUN FOR THE WHITE HOUSE IN 2028
The Virginia Constitution doesn’t allow for incumbent governors to run for a second consecutive term, so Gov. Glenn Youngkin will be out of office in Richmond in a year.
Compared to DeSantis, who also enjoys large GOP majorities in his state legislature, which will allow him to continue to enact a conservative agenda, Virginia is a purple state where Democrats have a slight upper hand in the legislature.
“It might be a little tougher for Youngkin, a little tougher for him to find ways to stay in the news” after he leaves office in a year, Kochel suggested.
But, Younkin predicted, “You’re going to see me a lot.”
“We’ve got a very aggressive agenda for being governor in the last 14 months,” he said in a Fox News Digital interview in November. “But part of that agenda that I have is to make sure that we have [Lt. Gov.] Winsome Sears as our next governor. [Virginia Attorney General] Jason Miyares is back as our attorney general and a super lieutenant governor who we will pick at our primaries.”
Youngkin, who energized Republicans nationwide in 2021 as a first-time candidate who hailed from the party’s business wing, edged former Democratic Gov. Terry McAuliffe to become the first GOP candidate in a dozen years to win a gubernatorial election in the one-time swing state that had trended toward the Democrats over the previous decade. He could also potentially end up in the Trump administration after his term in Richmond sunsets in a year.
“I told the president when I called him and told him that I wanted to finish my term that I would be available to help him at any time while I’m governor and afterwards,” Youngkin told Fox News Digital, referring to a call he held with Trump right after the November election.
But if he doesn’t enter the Trump administration, another route for Youngkin to stay in the spotlight in 2026 would be criss-crossing the country on behalf of fellow Republicans running in the midterm elections. It’s a role Youngkin previously played in 2022, helping fellow Republican governors and gubernatorial candidates.
“He’s got to do the blocking and tackling, go state by state, help a lot of candidates, raise a lot of money for them. Get a bunch of governors elected,” Kochel suggested. “That’s the playbook for him.”
What about NIkki Haley, the former two-term Republican governor of South Carolina and former U.S. ambassador to the U.N. in Trump’s first administration, who was the last rival standing against Trump in the 2024 GOP presidential primaries?
Nikki Haley, the former U.N. ambassador and former South Carolina governor, speaks at the Republican National Convention July 17, 2024, in Milwaukee. (Fox News/Paul Steinhauser)
Out of office and shut out of the Trump world while still facing social media zingers by the president-elect, Haley’s ability to grab attention should she seek the presidency again may be a more difficult climb within a party once again on bended knee to the former and future president.
Haley does have a weekly national radio show on Sirius XM, where she noted a few weeks ago, “I had no interest in being in [Trump’s] Cabinet.”
But a lot can happen in the two years until the next White House race officially gets under way. There could be some buyer’s remorse among voters if the new administration is not successful in enacting some of its goals.
“While JD Vance starts as the presumed frontrunner right now, there’s a million miles to go between now and then,” seasoned Republican strategist Colin Reed told Fox News.
And Kochel added that for some Republicans mulling a 2028 presidential bid, “I think a little strategic distance is not a bad idea. Because you don’t know what’s going to happen over the next two years.”
CLICK TO GET THE FOX NEWS APP
But holding statewide office — either as a governor or senator — doesn’t guarantee favorable coverage.
“Having a day job cuts both ways. It gives you a platform, a megaphone, and an ability to make news whenever you want. But it also carries with it the responsibilities of governing or legislating or being part of government bodies, whether it’s Congress or the state you are running, where things can go wrong and end up on your doorstep and become political baggage,” Reed noted.
Reed warned that “history is littered with those officeholders who ran and won for a second term only to have political baggage at home become political headaches on the campaign trail.”
Unlike the many people who are upset that Donald Trump is being inaugurated on Martin Luther King Jr. Day, I see it as a good thing. First, it calls even more attention to the day and its significance. Second, it is a chance to speculate about what King might say and do if he were alive in the Trump era.
Counterfactual, “what if” history is a trend in the literary world. Trump’s inauguration on the holiday may prompt us to think about what America and the world might have looked like with King alive and well. Conversely, how did America and the world devolve without him?
King was the kind of leader who comes along once in a lifetime, one with unmatched eloquence and passion. His gift for oratory could energize all kinds of people, including workers, presidents and other heads of state. He possessed visionary insight on the complex racial, social and economic ills as well as their solutions and consequences.
He worked tirelessly to build a grassroots civil rights and social justice movement and serve as its guiding force. And his charismatic presence influenced people to act on the issues and problems he was working to solve.
How might that play out in the Trump era? To begin with, King abhorred all violence. He most likely would have been deeply pained by the mass gun killings that have become somewhat commonplace in American cities. He would almost certainly have butted heads with the National Rifle Assn. and its ardent backer Trump while lobbying Congress to pass comprehensive gun control legislation.
When it comes to international politics, King surely would have condemned Russia’s war in Ukraine. One can also envision him speaking out against Hamas’ kidnapping and slaughter of Israelis as well as Israel’s killing of Palestinian civilians. He would have called these wars ineffectual, repressive and wasteful, a drain on resources that should go to programs that aid the poor and minorities. On this point, he and Trump, who repeatedly claims he has kept America out of wasteful wars, would likely be in some agreement.
It’s impossible to imagine King not fighting tooth and nail against the rash of voter suppression laws and the GOP’s ploys to dilute Black and minority voting strength, including the assault on the Voting Rights Act. He’d bump heads with Trump on that. But Trump would also have a comeback: He’d cite the sharp increase in Black and Hispanic votes for him in the recent presidential election.
King would almost certainly try to prevent the country’s Republican-led rightward sprint, drawing negative attention from Trump and his MAGA coalition. But even he would not have been able to stop the many powerful forces with vested interest in halting or reversing the country’s momentum toward expanded civil rights, labor protections and economic fairness.
The resurgence of overtly racist sentiments, acts and conflicts under Trump would obviously trouble King, who famously hoped for a day when Americans are judged “not by the color of their skin but by the content of their character.”
King would have had to find new ways to challenge the continuing ills of poverty and wealth inequality, which ballooned in the decades after his death. Even given his superb organizing and planning skills, this growth likely would have been a losing battle.
Had he lived, King’s unshakable commitment to the cause of human rights and economic equality surely would not have diminished. Wherever there was a campaign, march, rally, lobbying effort or event that his presence could boost, it’s a safe bet that he’d have much to say and do. In the Trump era, there would be plenty to keep him busy.
Earl Ofari Hutchinson’s latest book is “Day 1 The Trump Reign.” His commentaries can be found at thehutchinsonreport.net.
Why Trump's tariff promises will be hard to keep
Should South Dakota constitutional amendments require a 60% majority to pass?
Titans Projected to Land Vikings QB in Free Agency
20 years after crashing in the Utah desert, NASA’s Genesis mission is still teaching us about solar wind
Frigid temperatures, possible snow prompt First Alert Weather days for North Texas
Why Marjorie Taylor Greene was ‘kicked out’ of the Freedom Caucus according to Rep. Buck
Colorado Rockies game no. 116 thread: Zac Gallen vs José Ureña
See it: Tesla crashes into Columbus convention center at 70 mph
Fox News Politics: Georgia the whole day through
Death of missing Oregon girl found in stream ruled homicide
Biden to Spend a Last Day as President in Charleston
How will DeSantis, Youngkin and other 2028 hopefuls stay relevant outside the Trump administration?
Photos: Palestinians in Gaza celebrate the ceasefire
Arctic blast surges across US as snowstorm targets Mid-Atlantic, Northeast
Video: People’s March in Washington Draws Thousands of Demonstrators
-
Science1 week agoMetro will offer free rides in L.A. through Sunday due to fires
-
/cdn.vox-cdn.com/uploads/chorus_asset/file/23935558/acastro_STK103__01.jpg "Amazon Prime will shut down its clothing try-on program")
Technology1 week agoAmazon Prime will shut down its clothing try-on program
-
News1 week agoMapping the Damage From the Palisades Fire
-
/cdn.vox-cdn.com/uploads/chorus_asset/file/25826211/lorealcellbioprint.jpg "L’Oréal’s new skincare gadget told me I should try retinol")
Technology7 days agoL’Oréal’s new skincare gadget told me I should try retinol
-
/cdn.vox-cdn.com/uploads/chorus_asset/file/25832751/2192581677.jpg "Super Bowl LIX will stream for free on Tubi")
Technology4 days agoSuper Bowl LIX will stream for free on Tubi
-
Business5 days agoWhy TikTok Users Are Downloading ‘Red Note,’ the Chinese App
-
/cdn.vox-cdn.com/uploads/chorus_asset/file/25835602/Switch_DonkeyKongCountryReturnsHD_scrn_19.png "Nintendo omits original Donkey Kong Country Returns team from the remaster’s credits")
Technology2 days agoNintendo omits original Donkey Kong Country Returns team from the remaster’s credits
-
Politics1 week agoTrump to be sentenced in New York criminal trial