The Dictatorship
I attended a friend’s citizenship ceremony. I was astonished at what it revealed.
On a breezy morning this summer, a dear friend of mine became an American. Alongside people from dozens of other countries including Yemen, Togo and Russia, he, a Pakistani who had lived in the States for decades, took the oath of citizenship. After the ceremony, a group of us took photos outside the Brooklyn courthouse, strolled through some quiet streets and took shots at a mostly empty bar at 11 in the morning. Between dark jokes about how we could no longer call ICE on our newly American friend if he annoyed us too much, we reflected on the surprisingly philosophical remarks from the judge overseeing the oath of allegiance ceremony.
That judge did more than instruct those in the ceremony to raise their right hand and recite a promise to support and defend the Constitution. He delivered a full-fledged sermon on multiculturalism and what it means to become an American. He told his rapt audience that they ought to hold onto their country of origin — its culture, its languages, its food — “close to your heart” and advised them not to “let go.”
At the bar, my friends and I wondered if the judge had meant to sound political.
He promised them that becoming an American citizen was not a forfeiture of their past, but was “adding something on top of it.” He counseled the new citizens to believe they were not second-class because they were naturalized: “You’re not less of a citizen than anyone else, and don’t let any tell you otherwise. If they do, you come to me,” he said. He gushed about his own Italian ancestry, and he shared his love for his adopted son from another country. Ultimately, he argued that naturalized citizens were full Americans who had a unique ability to enrich the republic with their background — and encouraged the group to pour all of themselves into their new nation.
I cried as the judge spoke. I cried because I’m a sucker for any spirited defense of multicultural democracy, something that resonates viscerally for me as the child of immigrants who has always felt my heritage was a gift. But I also cried because the idea the judge celebrated is in peril. My friend had anxiously awaited his citizenship confirmation as ICE was arresting people at citizenship appointments. He was moving toward becoming a naturalized citizen as the president was defaming immigrants as “poisoning the blood” of America, reducing legal immigration, attempting to deport legal immigrants for political speech and overseeing a mass deportation operation that employed racial profiling.
Things seem to be getting worse. This week, President Donald Trump abruptly canceled citizenship ceremonies and, using a disingenuous security argument to effectively discriminate based on nationalityplucked select people out of line for ceremonies based on their country of origin. Trump has said he would “absolutely” denaturalize people to the extent he’s able to.
At the bar, my friends and I wondered if the judge had meant to sound political. The subtext to his comments about how nobody should let themselves be pushed around after leaving the courtroom was that it could very well happen — not just by schoolyard bullies or oddball xenophobes, but the president of the country they had just become citizens of.
Did they believe they were as American as everybody else and should be accepted as such? Or were they afraid of being targeted by the president’s supporters — or even by the president himself?
Not so long ago, things were so much different. On an idyllic summer day 14 years ago, I watched another loved one take the oath of allegiance to become a citizen: my mother. On this occasion, the judge presiding over the ceremony was far more reserved and did not preach. But the event spoke for itself. I remember feeling immense pride at the swearing in, surrounded by people from what felt like every country in the world. I marveled at how all those people wanted to be here, a place where I had begun and become a person. And this country was run by people who seemed to want all these people from all over the world to be here, to begin their life anew. It sunk in for me how radically generative and beautiful it was to live in a nation defined by immigration. Yes, I cried.
This was the Obama era: a time of record-breaking mass deportations of undocumented immigrants and coldness toward Central American refugeesbut also a time of the Deferred Action for Childhood Arrivals, or DACA, initiative, a welcoming attitude toward legal immigration and excitement over the possibilities of multiculturalism. The president himself was the son of a Kenyan immigrant to the U.S. More broadly, while President Barack Obama was no immigration dove, the federal government was operating according to a good faith application of rules and held no on-the-record racist positions on desirable nationalities. The oath ceremony felt orderly and secure, a final stop on a sturdy set of train tracks. My mother had for many years played by the rules, lived her American life and applied for citizenship. The application was approved. Each party had kept its word, and my mother and America were better off for it.
The Trump administration is laying siege to the idea that citizenship is a democratic pact.
The Trump administration is laying siege to the idea that citizenship is a democratic pact, and instead positing that it should be a function of ethnic heritage. Vice President JD Vance’s dog whistle at the Claremont Institute in California in July helped underscore it. He said that “identifying America just with agreeing with the principles, let’s say, of the Declaration of Independence — that’s a definition that is way over-inclusive and under-inclusive at the same time,” and spoke of people with ancestors who fought in the Civil War as having “a hell of a lot more claim over America than the people who say they don’t belong.”
Vance insinuated a hierarchy of citizenship in which the descendants of Southern white people who waged war against the federal government had an outsized claim to the nation, suggesting Americanness is tied more to bloodlines than fidelity to the republic.
Vance’s point that being an American is about more than just a nominal agreement with its overarching principles is correct. But it’s also a strawman. Immigrants don’t just barge into the U.S., memorize what it takes to pass the naturalization test (which most Americans would fail) and then vanish into autonomous ethnic enclaves. Every generation of immigrants in American history follows the same pattern: They become participants and contributors to the nation’s economy and society — assimilating into America (especially intergenerationally) while expanding its horizons.
My mother and my friend are natural examples of this dynamism. Since coming to the U.S., my mother has done work for nonprofits in education and the arts, held her ground as a fierce soccer mom, and thrown dinner parties featuring South Asian food that’s beloved by her American friends. She delights in watching ice-hockey brawls and loves matzo ball soup.
My friend plunged headlong into America by going to college in the Midwest and joining a fraternity. He still watches Pakistani cricket, but he’s grown fond of jazz and obsessed with the Knicks. He has worked tirelessly as a producer and director on incisive documentaries about American culture.
Both are bilingual and have large circles of friends that include people who were born in America and people who immigrated here.
Maybe the judge at my mother’s naturalization ceremony didn’t feel the need to preach a sermon because the idea of “E pluribus unum” — out of many, one — wasn’t under attack. Perhaps the judge at my friend’s ceremony felt the need to insist upon that idea because he knows it is.
Zeeshan Aleem is a writer and editor for MS NOW. Sign up for his free politics newsletter by clicking the link at the top of this bio.
Tyra Banks, the television personality and supermodel who captivated viewers in the early aughts, recently filed a defamation and false light suit against Netflix and the makers of the documentary, “Reality Check: Inside America’s Next Top Model.” As the title indicates, the documentary provides an inside look into “America’s Next Top Model,” the show that Banks created and hosted for 24 years.
To succeed, Banks, as a public figure, faces a higher bar than most in that she will need to show more than private figures bringing defamation suits about private matters to prove the documentary included false statements about her that harmed her reputation. The law also requires that she show the filmmakers acted with something called “actual malice.” This is a high, but not insurmountable, threshold.
In one particularly regretful episode Banks made contestants cosplay as different races, including having a contestant being made up in blackface.
The basis of Banks’ defamation claim is that the makers of the series used only 16 minutes of a three-and-a-half hour interview, and edited the comments she made in those 16 minutes to place her in a false light.
Banks alleges that she took accountability for some of the show’s more questionable decisions. Banks has, for instance, said she made “some really off choices,” regarding things like statements she made that were critical of one contestant’s gap in her teeth, and, in one particularly regretful episode, made contestants cosplay as different races, including having a contestant being made up in blackface.
Last year, in response to some of those criticisms, she admitted, “Did we get it right? Hell no. I said some dumb s—.” But in her lawsuit, Banks alleges that the audience would never know from watching the documentary that she had taken responsibility for some of the more problematic aspects of the show. “America’s Next Top Model” has been plagued by accusations of, among other things, body shaming, and ethically questionable photo shoots in which contestants were asked to pose as drug addicts and victims of criminal behavior.
The crux of Banks’ suit centers on allegations that the makers of the documentary edited her answers to give the false impression that she was aware of an alleged sexual assault that occurred during the filming of the show, may have forgotten about it, and refused to answer questions about it. Specifically, Banks argues that via “selective editing, deliberate omission, and surgical manipulation of continuous footage,” the docuseries gives the false impression that she knew about the alleged sexual assault and used it to increase ratings for the show.
Banks also argues that she was not given sufficient time to review the documentary before it aired, had no chance to correct the false narrative that it allegedly created, and therefore was forced into bringing this defamation lawsuit as her only avenue to remedy the harm done to her reputation.
It is worth emphasizing that not every harm to someone’s reputation gives rise to a claim for defamation. Banks herself could have done and said many things to shape, and in fact harm, her own reputation in her storied career. Defamation law only allows people, including Banks, to successfully sue for defamation if she can show that false statements of fact hurt her reputation.
If Banks were a private figure, she generally would not have to prove actual malice to recover actual damages; negligence would often be enough, depending on the nature of the speech. Negligence is a significantly lower standard and would only require that Banks show that the makers of the documentary failed to act as reasonably careful documentary filmmakers would have under the circumstances.
This doesn’t mean filmmakers get a free pass to create a false impression of public figures through misleading editing. The First Amendment does not provide blanket protection for a film maker who intentionally splices, omits, or rearranges material to make famous people appear to have said or done something they didn’t. Again, the actual malice standard is high, but not impossible to meet . Banks’ case will likely hinge, in part, on whether the editing merely reflected the filmmakers’ editorial judgment or whether it crossed the constitutional line into knowingly or recklessly creating a false narrative.
This doesn’t mean filmmakers get a free pass to create a false impression of public figures through misleading editing.
Decades ago the Supreme Court created this distinction to protect our First Amendment speech rights. The theory is that we should be able to discuss and criticize powerful and prominent people without the constant fear that we will be hauled into court as defendants in a defamation case. Robust public debate requires room to discuss, parody, satirize, and analyze the famous and powerful among us. In addition, public figures often voluntarily step into the public spotlight, where they can expect that they will be the topic of debate, scrutiny, and criticism. Public figures, unlike private ones, can often grab the proverbial bullhorn and correct the record, if something false is said about them.
Banks’ case is not just about whether the documentary cast her in a negative light. It is about whether the filmmakers allegedly went further and knowingly or recklessly created a false factual impression. That is a much harder claim to prove, and it is exactly where the First Amendment fight will likely take place. We will have to wait and see who ends up on top in this lawsuit.
Jessica Levinson is a Loyola Law School professor and MS NOW columnist.
WASHINGTON (AP) — The relationship between President Donald Trump and Senate Republicans neared a breaking point this week as he upended their efforts to speedily confirm one of his own nominees and said he would not sign the renewal of a key surveillance law unless they agree to new terms.
Trump’s overnight social media post Wednesday that he was delaying Jay Clayton’s nomination to become national intelligence director, just hours before the U.S. attorney’s confirmation hearing, further strained relations between the Senate and White House that have been worsening for weeks. Later that day, some Republican senators who have been hesitant to challenge the president directly on the Iran was were blunt in their criticism of his deal to end it.
“This is the worst foreign policy blunder in decades,” Sen. Bill Cassidy, R-La., said in a post on X.
The open tensions are an almost complete reversal from a year ago when Senate Republicans worked closely with Trump on a complicated effort to push through his massive package of spending and tax cuts.
At the time, criticism of the president was almost nonexistent among Republicans on Capitol Hill, and they planned to highlight passage of that bill in the midterms. But as the November election draws closer and Republicans are trying to defend their majorities, Trump is instead needling Congress with his demands and reversals, driving several Republican senators to disparage his actions publicly for the first time.
“I think somebody’s not dialing the president into the complexities of what he’s done here,” Sen. Thom Tillis, R-N.C., said Wednesday after Clayton’s confirmation was postponed. “I mean, my God.”
The slow unraveling of what once seemed like an airtight alliance between the executive and legislative branches in a Republican-led Washington extends to their policy priorities.
Trump appears to have lost interest in most of the GOP agenda and has become almost singularly focused on his voting legislation to require proof of citizenshipwhich has almost no chance of passing. At the same time, he has asked members of Congress to fund parts of his White House ballroom projectallow a temporary intelligence director that none of them like and cede their powers on the Iran war.
The growing rift has brought much of the Senate’s business to a halt and put Republicans who are up for reelection this year on the defensive. It has also put pressure on Senate Majority Leader John Thune, who has been up-front with Trump about what he can and cannot do in the Senate.
Trump pressures Thune on voting bill
Trump has pressured Thune relentlessly to scrap the filibuster and pass the strict proof-of-citizenship legislation, called the SAVE America Act. Thune, R-S.D., has told Trump publicly and privately that the votes are not there for either step. Still, Trump has kept up the push.
In a social media post Thursday, Trump said he would be “the last Republican president” if the voting bill does not pass.
“Senate Majority Leader John Thune, and the Republican Senate, must not let this ‘carnage’ happen,” Trump said. “They will go down on the wrong side of History, as will all Republicans who just stood by and watched.”
Nonetheless, Trump has yet to go after the well-liked Republican leader on a personal basis, as he often did with Thune’s predecessor, Sen. Mitch McConnell, R-Ky.. Trump once called McConnell a “ dour, sullen, and unsmiling political hack.”
Trump and Thune talk frequently, even as Thune is sometimes giving the president news he does not want to hear. As Trump pushed for the voting bill, Thune scheduled weeks of floor time to consider it, an effort to make clear that the Senate was supportive, even if the votes are lacking.
Missouri Sen. Eric Schmitt, one of the president’s closest allies in the Senate, said he has never heard Trump say anything negative about Thune.
“It’s a difficult position,” Schmitt said of Thune’s role in the Senate. “I think they have a good working relationship.”
One of Thune’s closest allies, Republican Sen. Mike Rounds of South Dakota, said the even-keeled leader is the “right person at the right time.”
“In the Capitol today, he is the stable force,” Rounds said. “In Washington, D.C., today, he is the stable force.”
No signs of revolt among Senate GOP
There were no signs of a revolt within the GOP conference, for now, despite Trump’s pressure.
Thune “has managed it better than anyone else could manage it,” said Cassidy, who has become a more frequent Trump critic since a primary loss to a Trump-backed challenger.
Criticism of Trump has at times surfaced even among his closest Senate allies, especially with his proposed $1.776 billion settlement fund for his political allies and his pick for acting intelligence director, Bill Pulte, who has no known intelligence experience.
But the rift with Trump has also stoked some new internal tensions.
Several Republican senators criticized Sen. Mike Lee, R-Utah, who has waged an online campaign to eliminate the filibuster and pass the SAVE America Act, in a private conference lunch this week for stoking dissension within the party in an election year.
Unbowed, Lee has kept up his social media campaign, including a post Friday on X in which he said that giving up because Republicans lack the votes is a “recipe for failure.”
Texas Sen. John Cornyn, one of those who spoke out at the meeting, replied that it is Lee’s job to find the votes, “if you can.”
“Can’t just complain about others,” Cornyn posted. “Prove us wrong.”
Trump’s dwindling number of allies
Some Senate Republicans have made clear they have no plans to separate themselves from Trump.
As several of his colleagues criticized Trump’s agreement with Iran this week, first-term Sen. Bernie Moreno, R-Ohio, aggressively defended it on social media.
“Let’s get the Nobel Peace Prize ready!” Moreno posted on X.
But Trump has far fewer of those Senate allies than he did when they narrowly passed the tax and spending cuts legislation a year ago. That is in part because he has picked off some of the most loyal Republican votes himself.
Both Cassidy and Cornyn lost in primaries last month after Trump endorsed their opponents. Tillis announced he was not running for reelection last year after Trump repeatedly criticized him on social media.
Now all three have become frequent critics.
Shortly after his election loss, Cornyn posted on social media a fable about a frog and a scorpion. The scorpion asks the frog to carry it across a river, according to the fable, and then stings the frog in the middle of the river, “dooming them both.”
“The dying frog asks the scorpion why it stung despite knowing the consequence,” Cornyn’s post read. “To which the scorpion replies: ‘I am sorry, but I couldn’t help myself. It’s my character.’”
___
Associated Press writer Kevin Freking contributed to this report.
ByDarryl Robertson
From the start, Shawn “Jay-Z” Carter has been consistent that his primary concern in life is making even more money. “I’d rather die enormous than live dormant,” he raps on “Can I Live?” That’s one of the songs on his 1996 debut masterpiece, “Reasonable Doubt,” which is mostly about him making the transition from drug dealer to musical artist. And “Can’t Knock the Hustle,” the first song on that album, is his declaration that no one can criticize him for how he accumulates wealth.
But 30 years later, people are knocking Jay-Z’s hustle. The hip-hop legend and media mogul is partnering with Target to push out a new collector’s item: a 30th-anniversary edition of “Reasonable Doubt” on vinyl. When Target ended its diversity, equity and inclusion (DEI) initiatives during the first days of the second Trump administration, Levy Armstrong to someMonique Cullars-Doty and Jaylani Hussein, stood outside Target’s headquarters in Minneapolis and announced that a nationwide boycott would begin on Feb. 1, 2025. Later, the Rev. Jamal Bryant, a prominent Black pastor in Atlanta, also called for a boycott. Target suffered declining store traffic and significantly fewer sales.
“Can’t Knock the Hustle” is his declaration that no one can criticize him for how he accumulates wealth.
In March, when Bryant announced an end to the boycott, Levy Armstrong wrote in an op-ed for MS NOW that Bryant had “no authority” to end the boycott and that it continues. “Why should we end the boycott now when Target hasn’t changed any of the policies that caused us to launch the boycott?”
This isn’t the first time Jay-Z has seen an opportunity for himself with an institution catching the brunt of Black people’s anger. As many Black people were boycotting the NFL for its mistreatment of quarterback Colin Kaepernick after he kneeled during the national anthem, Jay-Z’s Roc Nation brand announced a partnership with the NFL to plan its Super Bowl halftime shows. “I think we’ve moved past kneeling,” Jay-Z said then. “I think it’s time to go into actionable items. I don’t want people to stop protesting at all. Kneeling is a form of protest. I support protests across the board. We need to shed light on the issue, and I think everyone knows what the issue is.”
Jay-Z has consistently shown that he will choose partnership over principles, as “Point of View” host Natalya Somers recently noted: “We’ve seen when Colin Kaepernick was going through it with the NFL, and ended up being blackballed, and didn’t come to his defense. And now, right in the middle of his very own people being in the middle of a Target boycott, he is partnering with Target.”
Minneapolis-based Target has not only been criticized for abandoning its DEI initiatives but also has been accused of not standing up for immigrant communities during the ramped-up ICE raids in Minnesota earlier this year.
As impressive as Jay-Z’s ability to rap is, and as powerful as his story is about his rise from drug dealer to billionaire, he is a prime example of why we shouldn’t treat entertainers as political leaders, especially not an entertainer who candidly rapped, “I’m not a businessman, I’m a business, man.”
Jay-Z isn’t the only Black music artist to partner with Target. J.Cole partnered with the retail giant to exclusively sell vinyl copies of his latest album, “The Fall-Off” and to sell the 10th anniversary of 2014’s“Forest Hill Drive.” Kendrick Lamar’s 2024 album “GNX” is also being sold on vinyl exclusively at Target. But Jay-Z has enough money and clout to play by his own rules. He could have chosen another retailer if he had wanted to.
Jay-Z made a guest appearance on a 2006 song by Nas called “Black Republican.” In the chorus, we hear him say, “I feel like a Black Republican, money I got comin’ in / Can’t turn my back on the hood, I got love for them.”
The part about money coming in is obviously still true. But some of his decisions should make us question his claim that he can’t turn his back on the hood.
Darryl Robertson
Darryl Robertson is a freelance writer, a research assistant for The New York Times, a section editor for Souls and a student at Columbia University. His research interests include hip-hop and understanding how the Black Power movement services its communities. He is also interested in understanding how social, geographical and historical factors contribute to hip-hop.
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