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Prior to 1978, U.S. presidents could do what they pleased with the records from their time in office. They owned them.

But in 1978, the Presidential Records Act established new rules for the official records of a president. Passed in the wake of Watergate, when President Richard Nixon tried to keep incriminating materials from being made public, the law changed who legally owned the papers: It was now the American public.

Under the act’s terms, “all records must be furnished to the White House Archivist and ultimately made subject to public disclosure … and the President may not discard or destroy records without the express agreement of the Archivist.”

When he signed the act, President Jimmy Carter heralded it as a way to “make the Presidency a more open institution” and ensure “that our Government … merits the trust of the people from whom a President and his Government derive their power.”

But now the Trump administration wants to undo the reform that put presidential papers in the hands of the public.

On April 1, 2026, the Justice Department’s Office of Legal Counsel, known as the OLC, released an opinion claiming that the Presidential Records Act is unconstitutional. Its opinion says that Congress lacks authority to regulate what happens to documents maintained in the executive branch and, as a result, the Presidential Records Act violates the separation of powers.

Public interest groups and some historians responded to the OLC memo with alarm. The watchdog group American Oversight called the Presidential Records Act a bulwark against the possibility that presidents will “hide evidence of corruption, abuse of power, and misconduct from the public …” On April 6, 2026, the group filed a lawsuit seeking to prevent the president from acting on the OLC memo.

Whether the Trump administration or American Oversight is right about the Presidential Records Act is likely to be determined by a judge. In the meantime, the significance of the OLC’s opinion cannot be overstated.

That’s because the Office of Legal Counsel is “the Executive Branch’s preeminent legal advisor,” wrote federal judge Florence Pan in 2025. “Executive Branch agencies treat OLC’s legal conclusions as binding.”

I’ve written about secrecy in government, and the argument about the Presidential Records Act has a familiar ring. It is the latest version of an ongoing conflict about how much transparency is necessary and desirable in American government.

Neglected, burned, sold, vanished

Throughout most of U.S. history, presidential records have been treated as the president’s personal property. They could dispose of them as they wished.

The Indiana University library’s Guide to Presidential Papers, Congressional Papers, and Classified Materials says, “Sometimes the Library of Congress purchased a president’s papers from his heirs, as in the case of George Washington. Sometimes the president’s heirs sold off or donated various parts of the collection to different collectors and organizations.”

Some presidential materials were neglected and vanished. And one president, Martin Van Buren, burned some of his papers.

The idea that presidential papers had some public value began to emerge in the 20th century. In 1934, Congress passed legislation establishing the National Archives. It charged the new agency with preserving the official records of the federal government.

However, that legislation did not require that the president turn over his records to the archives. So in 1955, Congress passed the Presidential Libraries Act.

That law was designed to encourage presidents to turn over their records to the federal government. It also provided funding for presidential libraries to provide places to keep presidential records and make them available to the public. But here again, there were no teeth: The law did not require a departing president to give anything to the government, nor to build a library to house his papers.

All that changed in the wake of the Watergate scandal. That’s when it became clear that, but for the intervention of the U.S. Supreme Court in the 1974 United States v. Nixon case, Nixon intended to cover up what had happened and would have gotten rid of his incriminating White House tapes.

The passage in 1978 of the Presidential Records Act was a response to the Nixon scandal. Yet as attorney Sara Worth writes in a blog post for Yale Law School’s Media Freedom and Information Access Clinic, Congress “declined to include an enforcement mechanism to ensure compliance,” instead envisioning “future Presidents’ good-faith cooperation with the statutory mandate.”

DOJ: It’s a negotiation

After the FBI raid on his Mar-a-Lago residence in 2022 uncovered a trove of classified documents that had been removed from government premises, then former-President Trump argued that the Presidential Records Act didn’t apply to what he had done. He said he was actually complying with the act by refusing to relinquish presidential records.

In March 2023, Trump told Fox News that the law is “very specific”: “It says you are going to discuss the documents. You discuss everything – not only docu– everything – about what’s going in NARA, et cetera, et cetera. You’re gonna discuss it. You will talk, talk, talk. And if you can’t come to an agreement, you’re gonna continue to talk.”

Trump apparently meant that there would be negotiation over what constituted a presidential document that could be kept by the former president and what didn’t. That view is hard to reconcile with one of the Presidential Records Act’s unambiguous provisions: “Presidential records automatically transfer into the legal custody of the Archivist as soon as the President leaves office.”

Now, the Office of Legal Counsel is telling Trump that he can ignore that provision.

In addition, in its consideration of the Presidential Records Act, the OLC embraced Trump’s expansive view of presidential power. It argued that the Presidential Records Act is “unconstitutional for two independent but interlocking reasons: It exceeds Congress’s enumerated and implied powers, and it aggrandizes the Legislative Branch at the expense of the constitutional independence and autonomy of the Executive.”

The Justice Department’s lawyers appealed to history and tradition to buttress their conclusion: “Over the first two centuries of the American experiment in self-government, Presidents owned and controlled presidential papers, and Congress obtained such papers through political negotiation and interbranch accommodation, rather than as a matter of right. That historical practice was interrupted by the Presidential Recordings and Materials Preservation Act.”

‘Let the people know the facts’

The idea that citizens have a right to access information of the kind made possible by the Presidential Records Act can be traced back to the Enlightenment. American revolutionary Patrick Henry observed in 1788, “The liberties of people never were, nor ever will be, secure, when the transactions of their rulers may be concealed from them.”

Seven decades later, Abraham Lincoln echoed Henry when he said, “Let the people know the facts, and the country will be safe.”

In our era, that is what laws like the Presidential Records Act make possible. The Presidential Records Act plays an important role in preserving the liberty and security that Henry and Lincoln spoke about.

Austin Sarat does not work for, consult, own shares in or receive funding from any company or organization that would benefit from this article, and has disclosed no relevant affiliations beyond their academic appointment.

​Politics + Society – The Conversation

“Never interrupt your enemy when he is making a mistake.”

Napoleon Bonaparte’s maxim may well have been in the minds of policymakers in Moscow and Beijing these past weeks, as the U.S. war in Iran dragged on. And now that a 14-day ceasefire between Tehran and Washington is in effect – with both sides claiming “victory” – Russian and Chinese leaders still have an opportunity to profit from what many see as America’s latest folly in the Middle East.

Throughout the weekslong conflict, China and Russia struck a delicate balance. Both declined to give Iran – seen to a varying degree as an ally of both nations – their full-throated support or sink any real costs into the conflict.

Instead, they opted for limited assistance in the form of small-scale intelligence and diplomatic support.

As a scholar of international security and great power politics I believe that is for good reason. Beijing and Moscow were fully aware that Iran could not “win” against the combined military might of the United States and Israel. Rather, Iran just needed to survive to serve the interests of Washington’s main geopolitical rivals.

Below are four ways in which the U.S. war in Iran has damaged Washington’s position in the great power rivalries of the 21st century.

1. Losing the influence war in the Middle East

As I explore in my book “Defending Frenemies,” the U.S. has long struggled to balance competing objectives in the Middle East. During the Cold War, this meant limiting the Soviet Union’s influence in the region, while contending with the development of nuclear weapons by two troublesome allies, Israel and Pakistan.

By the 2020s, the priorities in Washington were aimed at restricting the influence of the U.S.’s great power rivals – China and to a lesser degree Russia – in the Middle East.

Yet under Presidents Xi Jinping and Vladimir Putin, China and Russia have sought to increase their footprint in the region through a variety of formal alliances and informal measures.

For Russia, this took the form of aligning with Iran, while also partnering with Tehran to prop up the now-ousted regime of President Bashar Assad during the Syrian civil war. Meanwhile, China increased its diplomatic profile in the Middle East, notably by acting as a mediator as Saudi Arabia and Iran restored diplomatic ties in 2023.

The irony of the latest Iran war is that it follows a period in which circumstances were unfavorable to Russian and Chinese aims of increasing their influence in the Middle East.

The fall of Assad in December 2024 deprived Russia of its one reliable ally in the region. And Trump’s May 2025 tour of the Gulf states, in which he secured major technology and economic deals with Saudi Arabia, the United Arab Emirates, Qatar and Bahrain, was aimed at countering China’s growing economic and diplomatic influence in those countries.

With Washington perceived as an increasingly unreliable protector, the Gulf states may seek greater security and economic cooperation elsewhere.

2. Taking US eyes off other strategic goals

In expanding military, diplomatic and economic ties in the Middle East, Russia and China over the past two decades were exploiting a desire by Washington to move its assets and attention away from the region following two costly wars in Iraq and Afghanistan.

Trump’s decision to wage war against Iran directly contradicts the national security strategy his administration released in November 2025. According to the strategy, the administration would prioritize the Western Hemisphere and the Indo-Pacific, while the Middle East’s importance “will recede.”

In co-launching a war in Tehran with Israel, without any prior consultation with Washington’s other allies, Trump has shown a complete disregard for their strategic and economic concerns. NATO, already riven by Trump’s repeated threats to the alliance and designs on Greenland, has now shown further signs of internal divisions.

That offers benefits for China and Russia, which have long sought to capitalize on cracks between America and its allies.

The irony, again, is that the war in Iran came as Trump’s vision of the U.S. as the hegemonic power in the Western Hemisphere was making advances. International law and legitimacy concerns aside, Washington had ousted a thorn in its side with Nicolás Maduro in Venezuela and replaced him with a more compliant leader.

3. Disproportionate economic fallout

Iran’s closure of the Strait of Hormuz, where some 20% of the world’s oil passes, was as predictable as it was destructive for U.S. interests.

But for Russia, this meant higher oil prices that boosted its war economy. It also led to the temporary but ongoing easing of U.S. sanctions, which has provided Moscow an indispensable lifeline after years of economic pressure over the war in Ukraine.

While a prolonged closure and extensive damage to oil and natural gas infrastructure in Iran and the Gulf states no doubt hurts China’s energy security and economy, these were risks Xi appears willing to accept, at least for a time.

And by building up a domestic oil reserve and diversifying energy sources to include solar, electric batteries and coal, China is far better positioned to weather a prolonged global energy crisis than the U.S. Indeed, Beijing has made strides in recent year to encourage domestic consumption as a source of economic growth, rather than be so reliant on global trade. That may have given China some protection during the global economic shock caused by the Iran war, as well as push the economy further down its own track.

The more the U.S. loses control over events in the strait, the more it loses influence in the region – especially as Iran appears to be placing restrictions on ships from unfriendly nations.

4. Loss of global leadership

Trump’s willingness to abandon talks to go to war, and the contradictory rhetoric he has employed throughout the Iran conflict, has weakened the perception of the U.S. as an honest broker.

That provides a massive soft power boost for Beijing. It was China that pressed Iran to accept the 14-day ceasefire proposal brokered by Pakistan. Indeed, China has slowly chipped away at America’s longtime status as global mediator of first resort.

Beijing has successfully mediated in the past between Iran and Saudi Arabia, and it attempted to do the same with Russia and Ukraine and Israel and the Palestinians.

In general, the Iran war adds weight to Beijing’s worldview that the U.S.-led liberal international order is over. Even if China benefited at some level from the war continuing, its decision to help broker the ceasefire shows that China is increasingly taking on the mantle of global leadership that the U.S. used to own.

And for Russia, the Iran war and the rupture between Trump and America’s NATO allies over their lack of support for it, shift world attention and U.S. involvement from the war in Ukraine.

Jeffrey Taliaferro does not work for, consult, own shares in or receive funding from any company or organization that would benefit from this article, and has disclosed no relevant affiliations beyond their academic appointment.

​Politics + Society – The Conversation

President Donald Trump on April 7, 2026, announced a ceasefire between the United States and Iran, after more than a month of war marked by U.S. and Israeli strikes against Iranian military leadership, Iranian retaliation against regional oil infrastructure and a global energy crisis.

As a former U.S. diplomat, I have found there are three ways that warring parties arrive at a ceasefire.

The first scenario happens when one party tires of war and asks for peace, as Hamas, the militant Palestinian organization, did when it pushed for a ceasefire with Israel in late 2023 and early 2024. But this strategy reveals weakness to the other side and thus seldom works. Israel ignored Hamas and continued the war in Gaza until October 2025.

Warring nations also reach ceasefires when a powerful third country insists the two parties stop fighting due to risks to world peace and regional stability. In the modern era, the U.S. has done this several times in the Mideast when it has leveraged influence over key players, such as Israel and Egypt. But with the Iran war, there is no country in a good position to do this.

The current U.S.-Iran ceasefire is a good example of the third way that agreements to stop fighting can happen. Both countries were tired of the costs and the ongoing risks of the war, and they sent signals to that effect.

Pakistan, which deserves praise for stepping in, picked up on this and offered to serve as an intermediary. For at least two weeks, assuming the ceasefire holds, the U.S., Iran and Israel can lick their wounds and consider their next moves, as they work out whether the conflict between Israel and Hezbollah is covered by the ceasefire.

US and Israel’s war with Iran

Why were the United States and Iran ready for a ceasefire?

For the U.S. and Israel, the war didn’t go as planned. There was no true regime change in Iran and no uprising of its people.

Iran closed the Strait of Hormuz, a key maritime channel between the Persian Gulf and the Gulf of Oman, and maintained its ability to shoot down warplanes and attack its neighbors, including Israel, Saudi Arabia, the United Arab Emirates and Kuwait.

For Iran, the war has cost the lives of thousands of its citizens and dozens of its leaders. It has also ruined key infrastructure, and it had the potential to get much worse.

Key ceasefire demands

That’s how we got here. Now, where could the war go next?

One possibility is that the ceasefire lasts only two weeks, is shaky throughout – as seen with Israel’s bombing of Lebanon after the ceasefire was declared – and war resumes.

The world already knows what that looks like, with its impact on the global economy and the soaring financial costs to the U.S. military.

Another scenario is that the ceasefire is extended, either clearly or just de facto, with zero to minimal U.S. attacks or Iranian missile or drone launches. This is quite possible.

The third and best outcome would be if the two parties are able to use these two weeks, plus some extensions, to hammer out the key points of a peace deal.

What could this involve?

The two key U.S.-Israel demands are that Iran give up its nuclear weapons development and stop backing Hamas and Hezbollah, the Shiite militia with extensive influence in Lebanon.

At this point, I believe the Iranians should realize that nuclear weapons are not their best deterrence, and that their attempts to obtain them have led only to their isolation. Their true deterrence is their ability to close the Strait of Hormuz and choke off 20% of the world’s energy supply. For that, they need only drones and small speed boats.

Iran’s support of Hezbollah, which has contributed to the ruin of a once prosperous and democratic Lebanon since it launched military operations inside the country in 1982, is a liability to them as well.

Iran’s missile attacks during this war have made it clear that they would be able to deliver nuclear weapons if they had them. And their drone and missile strikes on their Muslim neighbors, including Qatar and Saudi Arabia, are only creating new enemies.

But what would the Iranians want in return?

First and foremost, an end to attacks by other countries attempting to topple their regime. Second, and just as important, a permanent lifting of sanctions so long as they end their support for terrorist groups and surrender their uranium. Unfortunately, such an agreement would do nothing for pro-human rights groups in Iran.

A lack of trust

All parties would need to be committed to working out the many details for a ceasefire to last. Pakistan would need to stay the course as an honest broker and not get discouraged. The governments involved would need to be able to persuade their people that such a deal is acceptable.

Sound impossible? It’s been done many times in history. Think of how intractable the conflicts in Northern Ireland or between Israel and Egypt once seemed. The key element is for both sides to fear a resumption of war more than they do the consequences of a compromise peace.

A major problem is the lack of trust on both sides. The U.S. has seen Iran go back on promises before. Israel was traumatized by Hamas attacks in 2023. And Iran can’t keep up with Trump’s constantly changing signals and his bombing Iran while negotiating with the government there.

But if the ceasefire holds and negotiations are successful, the world could see an Iran that, at least, is no longer a menace to its neighbors. And Iran would see itself being readmitted to the world economy, which it desperately needs.

If it doesn’t work, and we go back to how things were before the ceasefire, we’ll be back to the U.S. and Israel raining down hard-to-replace munitions on Iran, and Iran lashing out with drones and missile attacks against a dozen countries, with the world economy taking a beating.

Donald Heflin does not work for, consult, own shares in or receive funding from any company or organization that would benefit from this article, and has disclosed no relevant affiliations beyond their academic appointment.

​Politics + Society – The Conversation

For much of his political career, dishonesty has been without cost for Donald Trump. He entered into national politics with the birther lie, claiming that Barack Obama was not born in the U.S., and that did not prevent Trump from winning the 2016 GOP nomination.

His persistent false statements about crowd sizes, electoral outcomes and the birthplace of his father barely garner press coverage today.

What’s more, the admission that Trump lies seems to have had little impact. On the campaign trail during the 2024 presidential race, vice-presidential candidate JD Vance acknowledged that Trump’s story that Haitian immigrants were eating pets in Ohio had been “created.” That confession had no discernible effect on Trump’s popularity. In fact, some measures indicate that Trump’s supporters admire his untruthfulness.

More recently, however, things have changed. Data now indicates mounting regret and disappointment among his base.

The administration’s failure to sustain convincing messaging about the Iran war, the Epstein files, the tariffs and inflation have left some supporters feeling duped and abandoned by Trump.

The president’s recent approval numbers are registering this shift.

This might suggest that fact-checking efforts are paying off. But, as a philosopher who studies the cognitive and emotional aspects of citizenship, I think this is incorrect. There is a better explanation for why, at this point, Trump’s followers are reacting negatively to his assertions.

When falsehoods aren’t lies

Although fact-checking can be successful in establishing the facts among people who have not already made up their minds, it is generally ineffective among true believers. Once someone has formed an opinion, debunking their belief can backfire, driving them to commit even more strongly to their mistake.

To explain the emerging shift among Trump’s base requires looking elsewhere. Specifically, I think it requires abandoning the idea that Trump’s more outlandishly false statements are lies at all.

I realize that this may sound odd.

To explain, let’s begin by noting that it is surprisingly difficult to give an adequate definition of lying. Intuitive characterizations – “A lie is something that isn’t true” – fall short.

For example, lying isn’t merely uttering a falsehood. Honest mistakes and statements made from lapses of memory are not lies. You could say instead that lying is deliberately asserting what one knows to be false.

But that won’t work, either.

President Bill Clinton lied when he claimed that “there is not a sexual relationship,” which, at the moment he said it, was true.

At the very least, the definition of lying must include speaking with the aim of causing one’s audience to adopt a falsehood. But that would make stage actors liars.

We should say instead that lying is a matter of speaking with the intent to deceive. Though difficulties remain, that’s a workable definition.

Betrayal by contempt

Given the ease with which many of Trump’s false statements are debunked, I think it’s unlikely that he aims to deceive anyone. No one really believes that Trump has stopped eight wars, defeated inflation, brought gasoline prices below US$2, cut a deal with the CEO of Sharpie or has 100% approval for his military incursion in Iran – all things he has said.

As he is not attempting to deceive, Trump isn’t lying when he makes such claims. Rather, he is doing something else entirely, something arguably more pernicious.

From my perspective as a political philosopher, these and other similar claims indicate he is speaking falsely as a way of demeaning or taunting his detractors. By resolutely asserting unbelievable falsehoods, Trump is expressing contempt. He is deriding the enterprise of journalism, in effect forcing reporters to write stories about his incredible statements, thereby indirectly controlling the news cycle.

It seems to me that his purpose is not to convince anyone, but rather to declare to the press, and perhaps also to his opposition, “You cannot stop me.” For a political movement rooted in the idea that U.S. politics is a swamp in need of draining, Trump’s defiant style has been successful.

But here’s the catch. It appears that Trump’s supporters are now beginning to feel that they, too, are on the receiving end of his contempt.

His recent claims that grocery prices are falling, his tariffs are working, the economy is roaring and the operation in Iran is a “little excursion” that has already been successful are not only obvious falsehoods.

In asserting them, Trump belittles those who must bear the effects of a struggling economy and an ill-conceived war. From this perspective, the shift among his base is not due to their realization that Trump lies. It’s that he has betrayed them.

Robert B. Talisse does not work for, consult, own shares in or receive funding from any company or organization that would benefit from this article, and has disclosed no relevant affiliations beyond their academic appointment.

​Politics + Society – The Conversation

Among the most disorienting things about President Donald Trump’s public language is how easily it can feel numbing and shocking in the same moment. He says something outrageous, the country recoils, and then the recoil itself begins to feel familiar.

As a scholar who studies presidential rhetoric, I know that over time that rhythm does its own kind of damage. It teaches the public to absorb the breach. What once might have sounded like a genuine political emergency or a violation of constitutional decorum begins to register as just another day in American political life.

But the past few days merit notice. The president’s demagoguery has taken a darker turn.

Trump’s rhetoric about Iran has become more than inflammatory. Beginning with posts to Truth Social in early April, he has used profanity-laden language – “Open the Fuckin’ Strait, you crazy bastards, or you’ll be living in Hell” – to threaten attacks on the country’s infrastructure. He urged Iranians to rise up against their government. He warned that “a whole civilization will die tonight” if Iran does not comply with U.S. demands.

The Associated Press treated those remarks as a significant escalation in the context of a live conflict, not merely as familiar Trumpian excess: “As the conflict has entered its second month, Trump has escalated his warnings to bomb Iran’s infrastructure.”

The International Committee of the Red Cross also issued the unusual reminder that the rules of war must be respected “in words and action,” suggesting that the rhetoric itself had become part of the danger.

But were Trump’s recent remarks really different from his many earlier outbursts?

I think they were. For years, Trump’s rhetoric has relied on insult, ridicule, threat and contempt. He has degraded opponents and helped coarsen the terms of public life.

What seems different about his words during the first week of April 2026 is the scale of violence his language primed people to imagine. His remarks about Iran moved beyond personal attacks or chest-thumping nationalism to take on a tone of collective punishment and civilizational destruction. The style was familiar. The horizon of harm was not.

Politics of fear

Presidential rhetoric is more about permission than persuasion. Presidents do not only argue. They signal.

Through those signals, they tell the public what kind of situation this is, what kind of danger is at hand, and what kinds of response are reasonable. In that sense, the president can function like a human starting gun. His words cue journalists, legislators, party allies and ordinary supporters about how to classify events before anyone has fully processed them.

Political theorist Corey Robin’s work on the politics of fear is a useful lens for understanding what is happening with Trump’s violent rhetoric.

Fear, in Robin’s view, is not simply a feeling that arises naturally in response to danger. It is politically manufactured. Power teaches people what to fear, how to name danger, and where to direct their apprehension. Presidential rhetoric is an essential tool for performing that work.

Thus, a president does not only describe a threat. He also gives it shape and scale. He tells the public how large it is, how close it is, and what kinds of response should feel reasonable in its presence.

A good example of a president doing this happened after the Sept. 11, 2001, terrorist attacks when, while visiting ground zero in New York City, George W. Bush said, “I can hear you. The rest of the world hears you. And the people who knocked these buildings down will hear all of us soon.” With that sentence, Bush acknowledged the gravity of what had happened, but also promised to fight back and bring justice to the terrorists.

When it comes to statements like those Trump has recently made about Iran, the worry is not that the president has said something extreme. Instead, the larger concern lies in what repeatedly using extreme language does to the atmosphere in which judgment takes place.

Political hyperbole lowers the threshold of what the public can imagine as legitimate, as allowable. When presidents make threats like the ones Trump issued, mass suffering becomes more imaginable. The president’s words and social media posts test whether the public will continue to hear such language as over the line, or whether it will be absorbed as one more hard-edged negotiating tactic.

Shaping reality

Presidential rhetoric matters for reasons that go beyond persuasion or style.

It helps arrange reality. It tells the public what is serious, who is dangerous, whose suffering counts, and what forms of violence can be described as necessary. President Barack Obama did this in 2012, when he was speaking at a vigil to honor the shooting victims at Sandy Hook Elementary School.

“We bear a responsibility for every child because we’re counting on everybody else to help look after ours,” he said. “That we’re all parents; that they’re all our children.” With these words, Obama called everyone to feel, up close, the horrific loss of 20 children shot dead, and to work for a solution to gun violence.

Trump has benefited from a public worn down by repetition. Every new breach arrives trailing the memory of earlier ones.

People begin to doubt their own reactions. Surely this is appalling, they may think, but also, somehow, this is what he always does. That dual feeling is part of the harm. A damaged baseline makes serious escalation harder to recognize and judge.

The disorientation and disgust that so many people experienced in response to Trump’s thundering, violent proclamations is important. Even after years of erosion of what was deemed normal, some lines remain visible.

Paying attention now is not about pretending Trump has suddenly become someone new. It is about recognizing more clearly what his presidency has been teaching the public to hear as thinkable. The most serious harm may lie not only in what follows such rhetoric, but in the world it helps prepare people to accept.

Stephanie A. (Sam) Martin does not work for, consult, own shares in or receive funding from any company or organization that would benefit from this article, and has disclosed no relevant affiliations beyond their academic appointment.

​Politics + Society – The Conversation

In the midst of a civil war, married couple Ernesto and Linda Fuentes fled their home country of El Salvador and headed for Philadelphia, via Mexico, in November 1983.

Ernesto was an activist who dispensed food and medicine in Salvadoran refugee camps. Linda was a union organizer for banks and clothing factories.

The Salvadoran government viewed activists, especially suspected guerrilla fighters and union leaders, as threats to its regime. It placed activists’ names on “death squad hit lists.” The couple decided to leave after receiving threatening letters and phone calls.

With false documents and the help of a humanitarian church group, they arrived at the Tabernacle United Church in West Philadelphia on May 12, 1984. The congregation declared itself a public sanctuary for undocumented refugees from El Salvador and Guatemala. An estimated 500,000 undocumented Salvadorans lived in the U.S. around that time.

The Fuenteses used the pastor’s office as their bedroom. Church members were instructed to keep the doors locked and not admit strangers, including the Immigration and Naturalization Service.

As a historian of race and policing in Philadelphia after the Civil Rights Movement, and the daughter of an immigrant, I’ve been exploring Philly’s history of sanctuary and how religious congregations, activists and city officials have supported local refugees over the past 40 years.

A ‘welcoming city’ for immigrants

Philadelphia Mayor Cherelle Parker has emphasized since May 2025 that Philadelphia is a certified “welcoming city.” She notably does not call Philadelphia a “sanctuary city.”

Welcoming cities have immigrant-friendly initiatives that make education, housing, workers’ rights, legal aid and language services accessible to immigrants and refugees without using the term “sanctuary city” in their laws and policies.

The presumed goal of this phrasing is to keep Philadelphia off the Trump administration’s radar and protect its US$2.2 billion in federal funding for health and human services.

However, Philly was, at various points, an official sanctuary city.

In 2014, then-Mayor Michael Nutter signed an executive order detailing that local police were not required to assist Immigration and Customs Enforcement unless the case involved a warrant or violent felon.

Nutter later rescinded Philadelphia’s sanctuary city status in an effort to dissuade congressional Republicans from passing a House bill that would deny sanctuary cities federal money earmarked for law enforcement and recidivism reduction. However, the next mayor, Jim Kenney, reinstated the order on Jan. 4, 2016.

Throughout 2017, President Donald Trump and Attorney General Jeff Sessions used executive orders, speeches and the immigration raid Operation Safe City to force Philadelphia officials to assist ICE or lose federal grants.

In 2018, Philadelphia won a lawsuit against the Trump administration that denied ICE access to police databases to find undocumented immigrants and prohibited city employees from assisting ICE.

Roots of sanctuary cities

The sanctuary movement started back in the 1960s. But it wasn’t immigrants who were seeking sanctuary. It was Americans.

Around 1968, drafted resisters who were opposed to fighting in the Vietnam War sought refuge in churches in the U.S. Northeast. One of the earliest cases involved Robert Talmanson, who received sanctuary in Boston’s Arlington Street Unitarian Church. He was later arrested by U.S. marshals and local police and incarcerated in Virginia for three years.

In November 1971, Berkeley, California, became the first sanctuary city in the country when 12 local churches inspired the City Council to pass a resolution offering sanctuary to draft resisters. It also banned city employees from “assisting in the investigation or arrest of any sanctuary seeker.”

In the two decades that followed, several Quaker, Presbyterian, Catholic and Jewish congregations across America and Canada used their houses of worship as sanctuaries for Central American refugees who were fleeing civil war, government repression and genocide.

Philly joins national movement

Frustration and outcry over the United States’ low acceptance rates of Central American asylum-seekers sparked Philadelphia’s sanctuary movement.

In January 1984, members of Tabernacle United Church, where the Fuentes couple would soon take refuge, voted to join the national sanctuary network. As the Rev. James MacDonald explained at the time, the congregation chose to “violate a human law in order to respond in obedience to God’s law.”

By May, the First United Methodist Church of Germantown also became a sanctuary church. A few months later, the church sheltered a young Guatemalan couple, Joel and Gabriela, and their 3-year-old daughter, Lucy. Joel, an activist who worked with unions and student groups, had been tortured by Guatemala City police.

On Jan. 14, 1985, INS staged nationwide raids of sanctuaries and arrested 60 undocumented immigrants and 16 sanctuary workers – including pastors, nuns and priests – for violating immigration laws. Joel and his family were among those seized. They were released when church members bailed them out as they awaited deportation hearings.

A new pathway to citizenship

By the mid-’80s, 42,000 people from 2,000 religious institutions in 60 cities nationwide had joined the sanctuary movement.

On Nov. 6, 1986, President Ronald Reagan signed into law the Immigration Reform and Control Act. It granted undocumented immigrants who arrived in the U.S. before 1982 one year to apply for amnesty. If eligible, they would begin a five-year pathway to citizenship.

Approximately 3 million people successfully became naturalized citizens through the amnesty program.

In the Philadelphia area, at least 5,000 to 7,000 people were undocumented in 1986. Advocates at the nonprofit Nationalities Service Center and American Friends Service Committee noted that many immigrants wanted to apply for amnesty but feared the program was a trick.

A decade later, immigration enforcement got tougher.

Local police assist ICE

In 1996, Congress passed Section 287(g) of the Immigration and Nationality Act. This granted local police the right to assist immigration officials in arresting and detaining unauthorized immigrants.

As of April 2026, over 1,600 law enforcement agencies in 39 states and two U.S. territories have a 287(g) agreement with ICE. The program offers local police free training in ICE procedures along with funding for equipment, vehicles and overtime pay.

While the Philadelphia Police Department has never signed a Section 287(g) agreement, about 68 Pennsylvania agencies have, including in neighboring Delaware County.

But these agreements aren’t always long-lasting. Between January and March 2026, two departments in Bucks and Chester counties rescinded their agreements with ICE to make residents feel safe after American-born protesters Renée Good and Alex Pretti were killed during ICE operations in Minneapolis.

Community activism continues

According to Pew Charitable Trusts, nearly 16% of Philadelphia’s 1.6 million residents are immigrants, largely from Asia and the Caribbean.

The exact number of undocumented immigrants in Philadelphia is unknown. However, the Migration Policy Institute estimates that 250,000 immigrants in Pennsylvania – 1.5% of the state’s total population – are undocumented.

Since January 2025, ICE crackdowns in sanctuary cities such as Los Angeles, Portland, Chicago and New York have resulted in the number of people held in ICE detention jumping from 40,000 to 73,000 people in January 2026.

Citizens and advocacy groups have stepped up to protect immigrants from ICE. The Party for Socialism and Liberation and the AR-12-toting members of the Black Lion Party for International Solidarity participated in protests in Philadelphia. Public school students from Northeast and Edison high schools have led anti-ICE walkouts.

On Jan. 29, 2026, City Council members Kendra Brooks and Rue Landau introduced an “ICE Out” package. The bills aim to codify the right of police to not share immigration, citizenship and personal data with ICE, or detain and hand over arrested individuals to the federal agency.

The legislation also proposes a ban on ICE agents who wear masks or hide their badges, use unmarked cars and city vehicles, or use municipal spaces as staging areas for enforcement and raids. And it would prohibit city employees from giving ICE access to libraries, shelters, health centers and recreation centers without a judicial warrant.

Community activists have long used civil disobedience and humanitarian aid to protect undocumented immigrants who are searching for a fresh start in the U.S.

An interfaith network inspired Philadelphia to become a sanctuary city. Today, churches such as Center City’s Arch Street United Methodist Church and North Philly’s Church of the Advocate, along with other congregations, uphold this tradition while a multicultural community across the city continues that fight.

Read more of our stories about Philadelphia and Pennsylvania, or sign up for our Philadelphia newsletter on Substack.

Menika Dirkson does not work for, consult, own shares in or receive funding from any company or organization that would benefit from this article, and has disclosed no relevant affiliations beyond their academic appointment.

​Politics + Society – The Conversation

Bipartisan calls for President Donald Trump’s removal from office increased on April 7, 2026, after he issued threats to destroy “a whole civilization” if Iran refuses to reopen the Strait of Hormuz.

These calls have come from across the political spectrum, from Democratic Reps. Alexandria Ocasio-Cortez of New York and Melanie Stansbury of New Mexico to former Rep. Marjorie Taylor Greene and right-wing pundit Alex Jones. Unlikely allies seem to agree that the president has gone too far and needs to be reined in.

Their concerns have emerged as Iran has walked away from talks to end the war and Trump’s language suggests that he plans to escalate it by destroying the country’s power plants and bridges.

Concerns over Trump’s fitness for office have grown in recent weeks as his commentary has become more erratic.

If lawmakers do attempt to remove Trump from office, here’s what would happen:

25th Amendment

The Constitution’s 25th Amendment provides a way for high-level officials to remove a president from office. It was ratified in 1967 in the wake of the 1963 assassination of John F. Kennedy – who was succeeded by Lyndon Johnson, who had already had one heart attack – as well as delayed disclosure of health problems experienced by Kennedy’s predecessor, Dwight Eisenhower.

The 25th Amendment provides detailed procedures on what happens if a president resigns, dies in office, has a temporary disability or is no longer fit for office.

It has never been invoked against a president’s will, and has been used only to temporarily transfer power, such as when a president is undergoing a medical procedure requiring anesthesia.

Section 4 of the 25th Amendment authorizes high-level officials – either the vice president and a majority of the Cabinet or another body designated by Congress – to remove a president from office without his consent when he is “unable to discharge the powers and duties of his office.” Congress has yet to designate an alternative body, and scholars disagree over the role, if any, of acting Cabinet officials.

The high-level officials simply send a written declaration to the president pro tempore of the Senate – the longest-serving senator from the majority party – and the speaker of the House of Representatives, stating that the president is unable to discharge the powers and duties of his office. The vice president immediately assumes the powers and duties of the president.

The president, however, can fight back. He or she can seek to resume their powers by informing congressional leadership in writing that they are fit for office and no disability exists. But the president doesn’t get the presidency back just by saying this.

The high-level officials originally questioning the president’s fitness then have four days to decide whether they disagree with the president. If they notify congressional leadership that they disagree, the vice president retains control and Congress has 48 hours to convene to discuss the issue. Congress has 21 days to debate and vote on whether the president is unfit or unable to resume his powers.

The vice president remains the acting president until Congress votes or the 21-day period lapses. A two-thirds majority vote by members of both houses of Congress is required to remove the president from office. If that vote fails or does not happen within the 21-day period, the president resumes his powers immediately.

The case for impeachment

Article II of the Constitution authorizes Congress to impeach and remove the president – and other federal officials – from office for “Treason, Bribery, or other high Crimes and Misdemeanors.” The founders included this provision as a tool to punish a president for misconduct and abuses of power. It’s one of the many ways that Congress could keep the president in check, if it chose to.

Impeachment proceedings begin in the House of Representatives. A member of the House files a resolution for impeachment. The resolution goes to the House Judiciary Committee, which usually holds a hearing to evaluate the resolution. If the House Judiciary Committee thinks impeachment is proper, its members draft and vote on articles of impeachment. Once the House Judiciary Committee approves articles of impeachment, they go to the full House for a vote.

If the House of Representatives impeaches a president or another official, the action then moves to the Senate. Under the Constitution’s Article I, the Senate has the responsibility for determining whether to remove the person from office. Normally, the Senate holds a trial, but it controls its procedures and can limit the process if it wants.

Ultimately, the Senate votes on whether to remove the president – which requires a two-thirds majority, or 67 senators. To date, the Senate has never voted to remove a president from office, although it almost did in 1868, when President Andrew Johnson escaped removal from office by one vote.

The Senate also has the power to disqualify a public official from holding public office in the future. If the person is convicted and removed from office, only then can senators vote on whether to permanently disqualify that person from ever again holding federal office. Members of Congress proposing the impeachment of Trump have promised to include a provision to do so. A simple majority vote is all that’s required then.

This is an updated version of an article originally published on Jan. 9, 2021.

Kirsten Matoy Carlson does not work for, consult, own shares in or receive funding from any company or organization that would benefit from this article, and has disclosed no relevant affiliations beyond their academic appointment.

​Politics + Society – The Conversation

Whiteness appears to be an official immigration credential in the eyes of the United States government.

The Trump administration in late 2025 slashed the annual cap on refugee admissions to 7,500 for budget year 2026, down from the 125,000 cap set in 2024 by the Biden administration. That’s a historic low that will shut out thousands of global refugees from war and persecution, such as the victims of Taliban repression in Afghanistan or the Rohingya minority in Myanmar facing documented mass violence.

The new refugee cap, however, will mostly benefit white South Africans, known as Afrikaners. The State Department is building infrastructure to process 4,500 refugee applications per month from Afrikaners, a pace that would easily exceed the administration’s global cap.

The Trump administration’s justification are claims of racial persecution.

Elon Musk, born in South Africa, posted on X in March 2025 that “there is a major political party in South Africa that is actively promoting white genocide.” President Donald Trump agreed. “They’re being killed,” he said in May 2025. Casting blame on the news media, he said, “It’s a genocide that’s taking place that you people don’t want to write about.”

Tucker Carlson had spent years on Fox News pushing the claim that white South Africans were being murdered en masse. Trump had apparently been listening. The white genocide claim moved from fringe websites to cable television to the Oval Office.

As a historian who has spent years studying how racial supremacy gets weaponized as policy, I’d say these claims are worth examining carefully. The numbers don’t support the claims.

Over a year in 2023-2024, AfriForum, an Afrikaner civil rights organization, recorded 49 murders of Afrikaners. That’s .2% of the 27,621 murders across the country. As the Institute for Security Studies in Pretoria concluded, “The idea of a ‘white genocide’ taking place in South Africa is completely false.”

A useful fiction

White genocide is a contemporary rallying cry for a project that predates it by over a century: keeping English-speaking nations white. The claim persists because it’s useful. Claims of white genocide, partly rooted in the fear that nonwhite populations are growing while white ones are shrinking, has been a far-right organizing concept for decades. But that fear was called “replacement theory” well before that.

Afrikaner lobby groups have successfully embedded their cause within a transnational far-right network, projecting South Africa as a warning for the U.S. and Europe. The Afrikaner myth is supposed to be a warning: white people are already being crushed in South Africa, and the same fate awaits whites everywhere unless something is done.

This has a specific history, one I’ve traced in my latest book, “White Supremacy: A Short History.”

Some English-speaking settler colonies explicitly identified themselves as “white men’s countries.” And in the early 20th century they coordinated immigration restrictions to keep them that way through a succession of acts passed in Australia, Canada, New Zealand and the United States between 1901 and 1924.

These were pieces of a linked ideological network, as I trace in the book, with ideas and personnel circulating between countries that understood themselves as outposts of the same white civilization.

Australia passed immigration acts from 1901 onward that largely barred people from East Asia, Eastern Europe and the Pacific Islands. Attorney General Alfred Deakin justified the restrictions to Parliament in 1901 in the name of “the purity of race.”

In that same September 1901 debate, another member of the Australian House warned that Black political power in the United States offered a cautionary lesson: “The black people there have increased to such an extent, and have gained such power, that the jurists and statesmen there pause and look with fear upon them.”

Canada’s Immigration Act of 1910 gave the government authority to exclude “any race deemed unsuitable to the climate and requirements of Canada,” implementing what historians call the “White Canada” policy. The aim was to limit immigration to “healthy, white, preferably British or American agriculturalists.” By the early 1920s, most nonwhite people were categorically excluded.

New Zealand’s Immigration Restriction Amendment Act of 1920 required entry permits for anyone “not of British or Irish parentage,” establishing what contemporaries called a “white New Zealand” policy.

The United States passed its own Immigration Act in 1924 to preserve what its proponents called an “unadulterated” and “Nordic breed,” restricting immigration from southern and eastern Europe and barring most Asians entirely.

A shared fear

South Africa was part of this network. The career of one eugenicist, who promoted the theory that humans can be improved through selective breeding of populations, shows how it worked.

Harold Fantham, who lived from 1876 to 1937, was educated in London, taught zoology at Cambridge, then moved to South Africa in 1917. There, he took a leading role in promoting racial immigration restrictions, arguing in the South African Journal of Science in 1924 that the goal was “safeguarding our nation from racial deterioration.”

He praised the U.S.’s 1924 act for barring “idiots, feeble-minded, paupers,” and admired Germany’s compulsory sterilization laws. He became president of the South African Association for the Advancement of Science. Fantham bore his ideas across the English-speaking world, picking up American and German models along the way.

Behind all these restrictions was a shared fear: that growing numbers of nonwhite people would overwhelm white populations. Eugenicists imagined a race to make babies that whites were losing. They believed democracy itself was a liability, because more nonwhite immigrants could mean more nonwhite votes.

Woodrow Wilson, who resegregated the federal civil service after taking office in 1913, agreed. His intellectual framework was plain. As he wrote in The Atlantic in 1889, only “races purged of barbaric passions” could be entrusted with self-governance.

Whiteness as proof of citizenship

The Afrikaner program reactivates this logic. It treats whiteness as a refugee status and frames a former colonial ruling class as victims. It sits alongside a deportation campaign targeting people the president says are “poisoning the blood of our country.”

The countries that coordinated a century ago to build white nations are doing the same work again, with the same tools.

The majority of people suffering violence in South Africa are Black South Africans. They are not invited to the United States as refugees.

And while the Trump administration builds a race-based welcome for white South Africans, it’s also building a race-based enforcement apparatus.

In September 2025, in a 6-3 decision, the Supreme Court ruled in Noem v. Vasquez Perdomo that federal agents could use “apparent race or ethnicity” as a factor when stopping people to check their immigration status. Critics call the resulting detentions “Kavanaugh stops,” after Brett Kavanaugh, the justice who wrote the concurrence.

As justice Sonia Sotomayor put it in dissent, “We should not have to live in a country where the Government can seize anyone who looks Latino, speaks Spanish, and appears to work a low wage job.”

Whiteness is functioning as a credential on the streets of American cities. And white skin qualifies Afrikaners for expedited entry. Darker skin qualifies you for a stop.

John Broich does not work for, consult, own shares in or receive funding from any company or organization that would benefit from this article, and has disclosed no relevant affiliations beyond their academic appointment.

​Politics + Society – The Conversation

A crowd gathered along the waterfront in New York City in the summer of 1776. The scene they witnessed was terrifying.

The largest expeditionary force in British history sailed into the American harbor. Over 300 ships brought 32,000 professional soldiers and Hessian mercenaries to crush a rebellion.

Nearby, Gen. George Washington’s army gathered to hear their commander read a document that would forever change the nature of their fight: the Declaration of Independence.

And contrary to how Americans now think of that document – as an inspiring declaration that detailed the grievances of Colonists against the British king and announced their independence from Great Britain – what Washington read to his army was also something else.

The Declaration of Independence was America’s first formal declaration of war. It planted a symbolic flag for Patriots to rally around. It transformed illegitimate rebels without hope of foreign aid into state-sponsored freedom fighters eligible for military alliances.

This foundational American text wasn’t just a philosophical breakup letter but a strategic move to secure vital support for the American war effort. America’s first declaration of war was a high-stakes geopolitical gamble essential to achieving independence.

Converting rebels into soldiers

As I and other military historians show in our forthcoming collection of essays, “America’s First War: The Military History of the Declaration of Independence,” the declaration was written within the confines of 18th-century legal standards that strictly governed diplomacy and warfare.

Thomas Jefferson, the foremost writer of the declaration, relied heavily on the Swiss jurist Emer de Vattel’s 1758 treatise “The Law of Nations.” Vattel stressed the fact that in the eyes of European courts, providing aid to rebels was a violation of sovereignty and a dangerous precedent.

Vattel argued that for foreign powers to intervene legally in conflicts, the oppressed party had to formally declare its independence and assume the status of a state. Jefferson kept Vattel’s treatise open while he was working on the Declaration of Independence to ensure he used the specific terminology required to transform the American rebellion into a just war.

By framing independence as “necessary,” Jefferson was not just waxing philosophical. He was satisfying the legal requirement set out by Vattel that all peaceful avenues for reconciliation had been exhausted, which justified war to the “Powers of the Earth.”

A formal declaration of war, approved by Congress, increased support for the American military here at home. It rallied a divided and wary population. Even as late as 1776, there were Americans who remained fence-sitters, uncertain about the risks of a total break with the British Empire.

The declaration functioned as a public rallying flag that allowed Americans to identify themselves as a legitimate, unified group. Like Thomas Paine’s widely read pamphlet “Common Sense,” the declaration educated the uncommitted on the inescapable necessity of breaking away from the British Empire:

“We hold these truths to be self-evident,” the declaration reads, “that all men are created equal, that they are endowed by their Creator with certain unalienable Rights, that among these are Life, Liberty and the pursuit of Happiness.–That to secure these rights, Governments are instituted among Men, deriving their just powers from the consent of the governed, –That whenever any Form of Government becomes destructive of these ends, it is the Right of the People to alter or to abolish it, and to institute new Government, laying its foundation on such principles and organizing its powers in such form, as to them shall seem most likely to effect their Safety and Happiness.”

By framing the fight in the universal language of the preamble, Jefferson sought to inspire and unite disparate Americans through a shared vision of a better life.

In doing so, he helped transform localized resistance movements into a collective national mission. In the words of the declaration, “But when a long train of abuses and usurpations, pursuing invariably the same Object evinces a design to reduce them under absolute Despotism, it is their right, it is their duty, to throw off such Government, and to provide new Guards for their future security.”

The declaration and the American army

This psychological shift was especially critical for the rank-and-file soldiers in the Continental Army.

That’s why, on July 9, 1776, Washington ordered the declaration to be read to his troops in New York. His aim: to provide a fresh incentive for the coming struggle.

This public address was intended to transform the nature of their service. They were no longer disloyal subjects in rebellion against a legitimate sovereign, but soldiers of a new nation defending their own homeland. Through Jefferson’s words and Washington’s address, the declaration fueled enthusiasm for a new political system and rededicated America’s soldiers to a cause that was not yet won.

Washington told the troops he hoped “this important Event will serve as a fresh incentive to every officer, and soldier, to act with Fidelity and Courage, as knowing that now the peace and safety of his Country depends (under God) solely on the success of our arms.”

America’s first declaration of war bolstered troop morale at a pivotal point in the conflict. The Continental Army was going to square off against the largest expeditionary force in British history in the summer of 1776. And Washington’s troops consisted of approximately 19,000 militiamen.

The British army had the British navy. Washington had only minimal naval support. The arrival of the first waves of Hessian mercenaries, auxiliaries for Britain, in July 1776 only deepened American resolve to seek out their own foreign military allies.

Forging alliances

The declaration helped bring about much-needed support for the American war effort among foreign governments.

The primary strategic target of the declaration was the Bourbon monarchies of France and Spain, Britain’s chief rivals. The Continental Congress understood that the fledgling United States could not withstand British military might without receiving overseas shipments of gold and gunpowder, in addition to warships, sailors and soldiers.

Silas Deane, the Americans’ first secret envoy, arrived in Paris in July 1776 with instructions to procure equipment for an army of 30,000 men and to inquire about a formal alliance once independence was declared.

Working with the French playwright Pierre-Augustin Caron de Beaumarchais, Deane established the shell company Roderigue Hortalez and Co. to funnel secret aid from the French government to America. This clandestine supply chain eventually provided thousands of muskets, field artillery and millions of pounds of gunpowder that made possible the 1777 victory at Saratoga and France’s subsequent formal alliance.

While France provided the bulk of the naval support, Spain’s role was equally critical to the American war effort.

Following the declaration, the Continental Congress intensified its appeals to Spain. Bernardo de Gálvez, the governor of Spanish Louisiana, became a central figure in this secret war. Even before Spain formally entered the war in 1779, Gálvez channeled over $70,000 worth of medicine, weapons and uniforms up the Mississippi River to Pittsburgh and Philadelphia. This southern lifeline kept the American war effort viable in the Western theater and forced the British to maintain a defensive posture on multiple fronts.

Reframing the declaration as a strategic war measure highlights the Founding Fathers’ sophisticated understanding of power.

They recognized that each individual’s “unalienable rights” were a fantasy without the “full Power to levy War, conclude Peace, [and] contract Alliances.” Jefferson and the members of Congress understood that American freedom required support for the war effort at home and abroad.

By transforming a localized insurrection into a state-sponsored homeland defense and an international conflict, the declaration ensured that the American Revolution would not be a mere sound of one hand clapping, but a successful geopolitical struggle that brought about independence.

Christopher Magra does not work for, consult, own shares in or receive funding from any company or organization that would benefit from this article, and has disclosed no relevant affiliations beyond their academic appointment.

​Politics + Society – The Conversation