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Democratic Troubles Revive Debate over Left-Wing Buzzwords

Democratic Troubles Revive Debate over Left-Wing Buzzwords

Yomiuri Shimbun27-05-2025
Demetrius Freeman/The Washington Post
Sen. Elissa Slotkin (D-Michigan) during a Senate Committee on Homeland Security and Governmental Affairs hearing on April 3.
Maybe it's using the word 'oligarchs' instead of rich people. Or referring to 'people experiencing food insecurity' rather than Americans going hungry. Or 'equity' in place of 'equality,' or 'justice-involved populations' instead of prisoners.
As Democrats wrestle with who to be in the era of President Donald Trump, a growing group of party members – especially centrists – is reviving the argument that Democrats need to rethink the words they use to talk with the voters whose trust they need to regain.
They contend that liberal candidates too often use language from elite, highly educated circles that suggests the speakers consider themselves smart and virtuous, while casting implied judgment on those who speak more plainly – hardly a formula for winning people over, they say.
The latest debate is, in part, also a proxy for the bigger battle over what the Democrats' identity should be in the aftermath of November's devastating losses – especially as the party searches for ways to reverse its overwhelming rejection by rural and White working-class voters.
'Some words are just too Ivy League-tested terms,' said Sen. Ruben Gallego (D-Arizona). 'I'm going to piss some people off by saying this, but 'social equity' – why do we say that? Why don't we say, 'We want you to have an even chance'?'
Kentucky Gov. Andy Beshear – who, like Gallego, is considered a potential 2028 Democratic presidential hopeful – made a similar point.
'I believe that, over time, and probably for well-meaning reasons, Democrats have begun to speak like professors and started using advocacy-speak that was meant to reduce stigma, but also removed the meaning and emotion behind words,' Beshear said, citing such examples as using 'substance abuse disorder' to refer to addiction.
'It makes Democrats or candidates using this speech sounding like they're not normal,' Beshear said. 'It sounds simple, but what the Democratic Party needs to do is be normal and sound normal.'
Other Democrats and progressives strongly disagree, saying the party's problems can hardly be traced to a few terms that, they say, are used by activists far more than by actual Democratic politicians. There are good reasons for using nonprejudiced language and seeking new ways to be sensitive to those who have suffered discrimination, they say – and only bad reasons for jettisoning them in the face of Republican attacks.
'We are simply asking people to consider the language they are using as we move toward shared goals,' said Daria Hall, executive vice president of Fenton Communications, a progressive communications firm. 'It is important to acknowledge the human element within populations and to recognize how they identify themselves. Language evolves; it always has.'
The divides are not clear-cut. But some Democrats are emphasizing a need to embrace centrist, common-sense ideas in a plainspoken way, while others say the key is to trumpet progressive, inclusive policies that fit the angry populist mood.
Recent years have seen a pattern of progressives embracing new terms that conservatives turn against them. Republicans have long excelled at using such 'politically correct' terms as 'woke,' 'critical race theory' and 'gender-fluid' to depict Democrats as out of touch.
'Honestly, Democrats trip over themselves in an attempt to say exactly the right thing,' said Allison Prasch, who teaches rhetoric, politics and culture at the University of Wisconsin at Madison. 'Republicans maybe aren't so concerned about saying exactly the right thing, so it may appear more authentic to some voters.'
She added: 'Republicans have a willingness to paint with very broad brushstrokes, where Democrats are more concerned with articulating multiple perspectives. And, because of that, they can be hampered by the words and phrases they utilize.'
Against that backdrop, a crop of youthful, up-and-coming Democrats is arguing that liberals need to abandon what they portray as constantly evolving linguistic purity tests.
Gallego derided the term 'Latinx' – which avoids the gender binary suggested by 'Latinos' and 'Latinas' – as 'stupid,' saying few Hispanics use the term. He also recalled once being told not to describe his own background as 'poor,' but rather as 'economically disadvantaged.'
'Not every person we meet is going to have the latest update on what the proper terms are,' Gallego said. 'It doesn't make them sexist or homophobic or racist. Maybe they are a little outdated, but they have a good heart.'
Beshear said liberals, in genuine efforts to be more sensitive, have drained the power from many words. Saying someone has defeated 'substance abuse disorder,' he said, minimizes the sheer human triumph of beating addiction; decrying 'food insecurity' fails to convey the tragedy of hungry children.
Some Democrats contend that their use of elite-sounding terms is highly exaggerated. Actual party leaders rarely use words such as woke or gender-fluid, they say, contending they are mostly used by left-leaning activists or academics – or by Republicans trying to create an issue.
Sen. Elissa Slotkin (D-Michigan) is another rising swing-state Democrat who contends that her party needs to use language that comes, as she puts it, from the factory line and not the faculty lounge.
She said the scope of her party's challenge hit home when a voter wearing a 'Make America Great Again' cap asked her, 'What's your hat?' He was hoping for a Democratic message that could fit onto a cap, she said, and she realized there was no obvious answer.
She recalled speaking to a roomful of skeptical Teamsters before the November election. 'I just said, 'Hey, you motherf—ers, I don't want to hear another godd— word about all Donald Trump has done for you,'' she said, adding: 'They love it. … To me, that is a different way to enter the room.'
The Democrats' renewed linguistic debate broke into the open in April, when Sen. Bernie Sanders (I-Vermont), a progressive firebrand, was headlining a 'Fighting Oligarchy' tour to rally opposition to Trump's alliance with ultra-wealthy figures.
'We have a nation which is now run by a handful of greedy billionaires,' Sanders told an enthused crowd in Nampa, Idaho, on April 14. 'I used to talk about oligarchy and people say, 'What is he talking about?' Everybody knows what I'm talking about tonight.'
In a subsequent interview with Politico, Slotkin mentioned her view that the term 'oligarchy' does not mean much to most people, and that Democrats would be better off declaring, say, that Americans do not have kings. Sanders retorted on NBC's 'Meet the Press' that 'I think the American people are not quite as dumb as Ms. Slotkin thinks they are.'
Slotkin downplays the dispute, although she stands by her contention that 'oligarchy' is not a user-friendly word. More important, she said, is the Democrats' need to confront Trump with 'alpha energy,' which she described as a sort of plainspoken toughness leavened with compassion.
Since taking office, Trump has continued his all-out war on words that he deems liberal or woke, ordering them excised from government websites and targeting programs that have such terms in their names as 'diversity, equity and inclusion,' or DEI.
Trump says he is rescuing free speech from progressives' cultural tyranny. Liberals say Trump is doing the opposite: silencing language he opposes.
The battle unfolded on a particularly emotional front in the 2024 election, when GOP leaders seized on the view of Democratic nominee Kamala Harris and other Democrats that people have a right to choose their own pronouns. Trump aired ads declaring 'Kamala is for they/them; President Trump is for you' that were considered highly effective by strategists on both sides.
Hall, who leads her firm's racial justice and DEI group, said the point of progressive language is not to judge anyone but to respect how people want to be identified in this moment. 'We have a lot more work to do, but we have to give ourselves some grace, because we are all learning as language continues to shift,' Hall said.
The true irritant for some critics is not the words, she added, but the underlying social shifts. 'American demographics are changing, and some people have an issue with that,' Hall said. 'Diversity, equity and inclusion are not bad words unless people make them so. These words are an effort to be more inclusive, not less.'
Many Democrats privately admire Trump's ability to talk in a way that connects with voters on a visceral level. He is unusually skilled, they concede, at finding words and phrases that stir powerful emotions, such as promising to 'make America great again' and decrying an 'invasion' of 'illegal' immigrants.
Democrats contend that Trump's slogans are empty at best and dishonest at worst. But they have struggled to find equally powerful language to convey Democratic values and ideas.
'What the Trump team has completely failed at is having anything behind their slogans,' Slotkin said. 'They figured out the slogans, but they have no plans.' Democrats need to have effective policies, she said – but, at the same time, 'you need the tagline.'
The notion that Democrats must communicate better in the 2026 and 2028 campaigns is increasingly accepted within the party, and potential candidates including Illinois Gov. JB Pritzker and former transportation secretary Pete Buttigieg have been road-testing their tone and style.
'It's so important for Democrats to have a vocabulary that can reach everybody,' Buttigieg told reporters after a recent town hall in Iowa. 'And you can't fashion that vocabulary online, or only talking to people who already agree with you or who are already kind of in your political style.'
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Finding Hope at Drag University
Finding Hope at Drag University

Yomiuri Shimbun

time7 hours ago

  • Yomiuri Shimbun

Finding Hope at Drag University

HOUSTON – The email said they'd spend the weekend in drag, so Chloe Montgomery packed the only dress she owned. It was white with a flower print, feminine in a way she found fresh. The first time Montgomery saw the dress, she'd felt the thrill of becoming herself. But eight months had gone by, and she hadn't worked up the courage to wear it. Maybe this weekend, she told herself. Montgomery had spent six weeks attending classes at Drag University, a free program that taught Black and Latino Texans not only how to lip sync and put together an outfit, but how to navigate life in a state that has long led the way in curtailing LGBTQ+ rights. There was so much Montgomery was afraid of. She didn't know how to dance or apply makeup. She worried she'd look bad in the dress. She hadn't told most of her friends or colleagues she was transgender, and increasingly, both her state and the country were targeting people like her. In March, one Texas state lawmaker had introduced a bill to make transitioning a felony. It stalled. And President Donald Trump signed a slew of executive orders that targeted trans people, including one that deemed it the official policy of the United States that sex is not mutable – a stance shared by two-thirds of Americans. The growing anti-trans sentiments terrified Montgomery, but this was Drag University's final weekend and she knew she couldn't waste it on her fears. The organizers had rented a bright and airy house with a pool and sprawling trees. Montgomery looked out across the expansive yard and told herself that this weekend, she would do the things that scared her. Soon, she and the others would graduate, and she would no longer have Drag U to buoy her each week. She would have to lift her own self up. Still, she wasn't quite ready to try on the dress, so Saturday morning, Montgomery slipped on a crop top and a flannel button-down she'd found at a thrift store. She pulled on a borrowed blond wig, and she took a spot on a big leather couch. The seven other students were, like her, working-class queer people in their 20s and 30s who were trying to find meaning and power through drag. They had learned the fundamentals, and this retreat was supposed to be both a reward and a culmination. It was the last time they'd meet before they graduated and performed for an audience in May. Over the next two days, they would try out their acts in front of professionals, and they'd talk about all the things that led them to drag. The group spent the first day of the getaway talking to a Harris County family court judge who presides over name changes. Though Texas has tried to outlaw many aspects of transitioning, for now, adults can still decide what to call themselves. Your name, Judge Lillian Alexander told the group, is 'what you want it to be. And I honor that. So I'd like each of you to tell me your name.' Montgomery knew her classmates by their drag monikers. She called them Kaycee and Mahalo and Selina Vile, but as they went around, they introduced themselves to the judge by their legal names. Kevin. Angel. Kimmet. Montgomery wasn't sure how to answer. For some people, drag is a persona, a costume they put on for special moments. All year, Montgomery had treated her feminine self as something she put on and took off, too. Online and at work, everybody knew her by the name her parents had chosen. It was still her legal name, but it wasn't the one she called herself anymore. The judge caught Montgomery's eye. All of a sudden, Montgomery felt ready. 'Chloe,' she said, and it felt like a declaration, like the first of many steps she'd need to take to embody herself. 'My name is Chloe.' Though most of the people in Drag University have lived their whole lives in Texas, Montgomery is a transplant. She moved to Houston from Providence, Rhode Island, last year because it was the cheapest city she could find with a sizable population of Black queer people. She arrived hoping to puzzle herself out. She'd left Howard University a decade earlier without finishing her journalism degree, and she'd felt mostly lost in the years since. She'd long thought privately that she wanted to be a woman, but she'd never hated what she thought of as her 'boy body.' She just felt disconnected from it. She realized she was trans in her 30s, but even then, she wrestled with the idea. Her life would be easier, she thought, if she continued living as a guy. She wouldn't lose friends. She wouldn't have to endure whatever comments people made. But once she understood that sense of disconnection was gender dysphoria, she found the truth impossible to ignore. Almost as soon as she started estrogen last summer, Montgomery's mind and body began to align. The medication enabled her to do more than just exist. With it, she could be silly for the first time in years. She cracked jokes and daydreamed about creating a meaningful life for herself, one with close friends and a job she liked. Montgomery earned $16.50 an hour doing quality control at a car dealership. The salary barely covered her groceries and rent, but she longed for a single piece of feminine clothing, so one night, she went online and picked out a $25 dress she suspected she'd look good in. The top was fitted, narrow at the hips, and the flower-printed skirt widened into a flowy hem. She felt hopeful when it arrived, but she couldn't bring herself to let the world see her the way she saw herself. She stashed the dress in her closet without trying it on, and she showed up to work each week still dressed in men's clothes. All fall, she felt broke and alone. Then, a few weeks after the presidential election, she saw an Instagram ad that the Black LGBTQ+ nonprofit Normal Anomaly Initiative had posted for Drag University. 'This cohort will learn skills to enrich their drag careers, including makeup application, hair styling, beginner garment tailoring, and stage presence,' the announcement said. Montgomery was intrigued. Politicians have tried to criminalize drag since at least the 1800s, and Montgomery had read that performers and trans people were among the first to fight for civil rights, though they rarely went at it alone. It would be easier to transition, she thought, if she had a community alongside her. They met Tuesday nights all winter at an LGBTQ+ drop-in center south of downtown. Each participant gravitated toward a different kind of drag. Syca'Ru was an androgynous person who called themself 'a drag thing.' Berry Kay was a cisgender woman who channeled 'the divine feminine.' Beau Vine performed as a bull. They spent hours learning how to breathe and pose and talk to powerful people. They wrote speeches. They chose names. Montgomery had called herself 'Chloe' for months, but in class, she adopted a new last name, one cribbed from her favorite Cape Verdean song – 'Yamore.' Between lessons, the group talked about everything that was happening in Texas and in their own lives. State leaders had once again tried to restrict drag performances – a move they say is needed to protect children – and they'd banned trans people from changing their sex on official documents. The Drag U participants told each other they felt afraid in ways they once hadn't. Most weeks, Montgomery left Drag U lessons and cried the whole way home. Her classmates saw her as a woman. But a few hours a week no longer felt like enough. The Monday before the final class, Montgomery shared her first Instagram picture of Chloe. She'd driven to the grocery store, and she snapped a selfie in the parking lot. She was sweating under her bobbed wig, and she wasn't wearing anything particularly special, but she felt like she'd captured something real. She paired it with a quote from the movie 'Twisters': 'If you feel it, chase it.' For Montgomery, transitioning was a series of highs and lows. Nearly 100 people liked her Instagram post, but she was still too broke to buy makeup or her own wigs. Plus, every day, the government seemed to find a new way to target queer people. By the time Montgomery arrived for the final retreat, Drag U organizers and participants felt beaten down. Texas had introduced 88 anti-LGBTQ+ bills since classes started, and Trump had criticized the Kennedy Center for the Performing Arts because the venue featured drag shows. 'THIS WILL STOP,' the president wrote on Truth Social after he appointed himself the center's chairman. Drag U's organizers weren't sure how they'd endure. Executive Director Ian L. Haddock told the group he worried Trump's promise to slash funding for anything related to diversity, equity and inclusion issues would affect LGBTQ+ initiatives. The administration had also ordered massive cuts to the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention, a reliable source of funding for the nonprofit. 'In this sociopolitical climate, everything has been obliterated,' Haddock said. 'Many organizations like ours will not make it through.' For now, Haddock said, he wanted the weekend to be a respite. His staff spent hours cooking seafood, tacos and other big meals. They brought out video cameras and lush backdrops to make the participants feel like stars, then they introduced an actual star – A'Keria Chanel Davenport from 'RuPaul's Drag Race.' Davenport arrived midday in a shimmering blue suit dress she'd customized with pink ostrich feathers. She told the group she had transitioned and detransitioned, and these days she was 'totally a dude' at home, even as she presented a glamorous femininity onstage. She'd been around a while, she explained, and she'd learned that the only way to survive a tough political climate was to pursue a life you love. 'This art form saved me,' Davenport said. 'I have no control over who's president. But what I can control is how I find my safe space, and drag is my safe space. So you have to keep going because if you find your community, and you celebrate yourself as well as each other, trust me, it's very rewarding.' The next morning, Haddock told the performers they'd each get $250 to spend on a graduation outfit. Beau Vine buried his face in his hands. 'I can finally afford JoAnn Fabrics,' he said. Montgomery wasn't sure yet what she'd wear to graduation. She hadn't worked up the nerve to put on the dress, even during the retreat. She left it folded the first day, and on the second, she chose a black catsuit and pink-accented Nike high-tops instead. She was quiet as she took her spot on the couch. She knew both drag and transitioning required so much more than an outfit, but she'd come here to feel liberated, and that meant she'd need to wear the dress in front of people. Haddock loaded a few of his favorite drag performances onto a big TV. As Montgomery and the others watched an artist named Jazell Barbie Royale lip sync in a revealing gold leotard, Royale appeared in real life. 'What y'all watching?' she asked with a coy smile. The group screamed and doubled over. Montgomery jumped up. Royale has won nearly every pageant imaginable, and she had flown to Houston just to talk to them. Montgomery watched Royale, and she longed to be as poised as she was. Royale wasn't just a drag queen. She was a trans woman who'd come out two decades ago. 'Back then,' Royale said. 'People had to be as stealth as possible for their safety. We didn't have any rights. We didn't have mentors or gender-affirming care or doctors to prescribe hormones.' Montgomery knew she was lucky in ways many trans people were not. She had insurance and a doctor she liked. Her estrogen prescription was good for several months. 'All right,' Royale said. 'I want to see y'all perform. Pick a song. You have 30 seconds.' Montgomery's heart sped up. In a few minutes, everyone would see what an awkward dancer she was. She wiped her hands on her catsuit, told the DJ her song choice, then tried to snap along as the first few people went. Royale told Syca'Ru they had the talent to be a professional, and after Beau Vine finished a high-energy, Bruno Mars-esque performance, Royale said the drag king knew exactly who he was. Montgomery pulled a pair of sunglasses over her eyes. Royale had a small number of critiques for the other performers – slow down, vary your moves – but when Montgomery took the stage to Janelle Monáe's 'I Like That,' Royale stopped her after 45 seconds. 'I want you to go back and pick a song you actually feel,' Royale said. Syca'Ru jumped up to brush Montgomery's hair, and a few of the performers checked to make sure Montgomery was okay. But she didn't feel shaken. Hadn't this been what she wanted? A community? Mentorship? Joy? Montgomery told the DJ to play Adele's 'Someone Like You.' She'd been listening to it on repeat after an old relationship she'd hoped to rekindle hadn't rekindled after all. She pulled an enormous pink boa around her shoulders. She tossed her sunglasses aside, and the song began. Montgomery didn't dance with the kind of liquid ease Syca'Ru did. She kept her shoulders tight, and she moved in the smallest of squares. But when Montgomery finished, Royale told her she'd done much better. 'When you're onstage, you have to leave behind all insecurities,' Royale said. By that evening, the only thing left to do was record their final projects, a video diary where each person explained why drag is important to them. Most chose a special outfit to wear. Beau paired a cowbell necklace with a leather, floor-length vest he'd sewn himself. Hermes wore the Autism Self Advocacy Network T-shirt that most spoke to their neurodivergence. Montgomery knew she only had one option. The dress. She carried it to the bathroom. She slipped it over her head. She knew she needed something to cinch the waist, but she only had a men's belt, so she tightened the brown strap around her middle, then twisted it so the buckle was in the back. It wasn't perfect, but it was right. When Montgomery looked in the mirror, she felt a euphoria she'd never experienced. The person in the reflection was her. 'Chloe,' Haddock shouted. 'You're next.' Montgomery walked into the living room to wait her turn. She put in her AirPods and queued up Beyoncé's 'Dance for You.' The song is Beyoncé's ode to a man, but Montgomery heard the lyrics as a promise to herself. Wanna show you how much I appreciate you, yes. Wanna show you how much I'm dedicated to you, yes. Montgomery twirled and moved her arms the way she imagined a ballerina would. The flowery hem of her dress swished, and she allowed herself to take up the entire room. She was dancing for herself as herself, and she'd never felt anything better. When it was time to record, Montgomery swooped her hands around and attempted to explain all that the last two months had meant to her. 'I am trying to find who I am,' she said. 'And in finding myself, I am able to become the most powerful version of myself, a version who is free, who is unapologetic. And that makes me feel great because the little version of myself was too afraid to be seen.' Her eyes glistened, then spilled over. Even now, she couldn't really dance or put on makeup. But that didn't bother her anymore. 'Chloe Yamore means 'Chloe, I love you,'' she said. 'I love you enough to go for it even though I'm afraid.' Soon, she knew, she'd tell her boss she was a woman. She'd change her name on Instagram, and she'd allow her friends and family members to know her as Chloe. But first she'd do the thing she'd been putting off all year. She would leave this house and go out into the world. This time, she would not let her fears get the best of her. This time, she would wear the dress.

Russia's ‘Anti-Woke' Visa Lures Those Fearing a Moral Decline in the West
Russia's ‘Anti-Woke' Visa Lures Those Fearing a Moral Decline in the West

Yomiuri Shimbun

time7 hours ago

  • Yomiuri Shimbun

Russia's ‘Anti-Woke' Visa Lures Those Fearing a Moral Decline in the West

In a brightly lit conference room of a Moscow police department, a smiling officer flanked by Russian flags and gilded double-headed eagles handed over small blue booklets to an American family of five – asylum certificates granting them the right to live and work in Russia after fleeing Texas because they felt their way of life was under threat. 'I feel like I've been put on an ark of safety for my family,' 61-year-old Leo Hare said at the time. 'I want to thank President [Vladimir] Putin for allowing Russia to become a good place for families in this world climate.' 'In a small way it feels like I just got married to Russia,' echoed his wife, Chantelle Hare, 51. 'I look forward to building a future here with my family. I look forward to the opportunities that my sons will have here.' Footage of the ceremony, shared on the Interior Ministry's official media channels, was accompanied by a caption declaring that 'yet another American family choose our country to live in … understanding that in our country traditional values are protected by the state.' The Hare family, devout Christians who ran a farm in Texas, describe themselves as a family of 'moral migrants' and have emerged as the face of a small but growing trend of Westerners relocating to Russia in search of the traditional, conservative values they feel are eroding in the liberal West. Their journey reflects the ideological narrative Putin has spent years crafting: Russia as the guardian of family-centered traditions amid a Western world spiraling into moral and social decay. Stories of foreigners moving to Russia in pursuit of these values get extensive coverage on Russian state media and are woven into the broader narrative Moscow now exports internationally. But behind the headlines, some newcomers face serious challenges – running into legal and financial issues, grappling with frozen bank accounts, or getting lost in the country and its layers of bureaucracy – though criticism remains muted. Just a few days after the Hares received their asylum, Putin signed a decree in August 2024 that offers the so-called 'shared values' visa – also known informally as the 'anti-woke' visa – to people from 47 countries Russia considers unfriendly, including the United States, Britain and most of the European Union. Through this decree, 'providing humanitarian support to individuals who share traditional Russian spiritual and moral values,' Russia offers a three-year residency permit with minimal requirements that can eventually be converted into citizenship. Since the beginning of the year, about 700 people have been issued this visa, while hundreds of others have come on work or student visas or as spouses of Russian citizens, according to lawmaker Maria Butina, who has become the champion of the program. 'LGBT and migrants, these are the two main reasons why people move,' she said. 'They feel that are too many migrants in Europe or they do not accept the LGBT values,' she told The Washington Post. Butina is familiar to Americans as the Russian political activist who was accused of infiltrating conservative political circles to promote Russian interests and convicted in 2018 of acting as an unregistered foreign agent. She was sentenced to 18 months in U.S. prison and later released and deported to Russia in October 2019. In addition to being a member of Russia's parliament, Butina also runs an organization called Welcome to Russia, where a team of about dozen people helps foreigners obtain the 'shared values' visa. In November 2024, Butina launched a new program on Russia's state network RT called 'Family – Russia,' focused on people who have chosen to leave the West and settle in Russia. Around the same time, RT introduced a multilingual website, Gateway to Russia, which provides information on relocation options and Russian-language basics. Foreigners are expected to have enough funds to support themselves, but the Russian government has set up initiatives to help with housing and job placement. Those who obtain a residency permit become eligible for pension and child payments, along with getting access to universal health care. 'Spiritual asylum' Butina insists that Russia is not actively recruiting disillusioned Westerners. 'The Russian state views it as a humanitarian mission. Our job is not to attract people. Let's be honest, it is quite difficult,' she said. 'You need to adapt these people, help them with work, find a school for their children. This is a very difficult process.' 'It would probably be more correct to call it as a spiritual asylum visa,' she added. 'People are moving because they are looking for Noah's ark, not that Russia is seeking them.' But the effort to attract disenchanted Westerns is a calculated one. A recent investigation by the Russian-language outlet Important Stories revealed that the RT network – which is under both U.S. and E.U. sanctions – funds a network of bloggers who produce videos featuring relocated foreigners lavishing praise on Russia while criticizing the West. With titles like 'Russia Has No American Problems' and 'The West Is Trying to Demonize Russia,' these videos are part of a larger soft-power effort by Moscow to improve its image and portray the country as orderly, stable and poised to thrive despite international isolation. The channels add to the existing cohort of conservative Western influencers who have settled in the country and publish Russia-friendly content. In 2019, an Australian family – coincidentally sharing the surname Hare – relocated to Russia in protest over the legalization of same-sex marriage in their home country. They established a farm in Altai, a scenic region in southern Siberia, and run a popular video blog about their life that was prominently featured in RT and other state media coverage. The messaging in these videos often dovetails with an established MAGA worldview. Trans and LGBTQ+ rights are cast as signs of moral decline and opposed under the guise of protecting the interests of children. Feminism is rejected as a leftist project to erode masculinity and dismantle family institutions. Coronavirus vaccine mandates – cited by Butina as another common reason Westerners have chosen to relocate to Russia – are viewed not as public health measures but as instruments of authoritarian control, wrapped in conspiracy-laden skepticism. Russia is portrayed as a haven for traditional values: Single men are shown idealized visions of submissive, family-oriented Russian women aligned with the 'tradwife' aesthetic gaining traction in some American circles. The absence of gay pride events in Russia – thanks largely to severe anti-LGBTQ+ laws labeling the movement as extremist – is highlighted as a feature. One relocation service openly lists these laws as a key benefit, proudly advertising the country as 'family-focused.' For Stephen Webster, a pastor in Murmansk and a comic book artist, it was a move for religious and economic reasons. He first relocated to Russia from Oklahoma with his father, also a pastor, in the early 1990s and then returned in 2023, after about six years in the U.S. 'The first and foremost reason was kind of family and church-related reasons, but there are other things like education,' he said. 'I have four kids, and education for the kids is far, far, cheaper here than it is in the United States.' Webster pointed to Russia's material support for families, such as extended parental leave and the 'maternal capital' program, which provides first-time mothers with about $8,500 and bonuses for subsequent children. The Russian government has made improving the demographic situation a core effort against the backdrop of declining birth rates and wartime losses and is increasingly looking to incentivize young women to marry and have many children, forgoing education and career. Respect for Putin Before relocating, Chantelle Hare said she spent a lot of time watching YouTube channels run by foreigners who had already made the move to Russia, including Dan Castle's Wild Siberia and Tim Kirby's Travel. While these channels weren't named in the Important Stories investigation, they belong to a broader ecosystem of expat influencers promoting Russia in a favorable light. Documents obtained by a European intelligence service and reviewed by The Post show Kirby is part of a group of Western expat bloggers, including Kremlin propagandist John Mark Dougan, who receive instructions and financial support from the state-backed Center for Geopolitical Expertise to publish disinformation. Kirby declined to comment when contacted by The Post. Leo Hare said he became disillusioned with the U.S. after what he saw as President Donald Trump's failure to hold 'traitors' accountable following the 2020 election, which he believes was stolen. 'A country that does not punish its traitors is no longer really a country,' he said, painting a picture of a nation overtaken by intelligence agencies and plagued by corrupt elites. The Hares said they felt unsafe in Texas because of unregulated migration. Chantelle said she was worried her sons wouldn't be able to 'marry a real girl' and not a transgender person and deplored laws such those establishing buffer zones around abortion clinics. But the tipping point, and what finally drew them to Russia, Leo said, was Putin's persona. 'I … liked his policies, how he was trying to restore pride in Russia, restore patriotism,' Leo said. So far, Trump's reelection does not appear to have dissuaded Americans who have already set their sights on moving to Russia from still coming, according to Philip Hutchinson, a former British Conservative Party candidate who moved to Russia four months ago because his Russian wife could not obtain a U.K. visa. Hutchinson now runs Moscow Connect, which offers relocation packages, and has partnered with Butina's initiative. He said that even Trump's policies are not enough to persuade some American conservatives to stay in their home country. 'What happens when another administration comes in and tries to change that?' he said. 'In Russia, at least, you know you're going to get consistency.' Some families run into significant challenges during their move. The Hares have said that they were defrauded out of $50,000 of their savings and that law enforcement has not been responsive. Arend and Anneesa Feenstra, a Canadian farming couple with nine children, relocated to Russia in 2023 for reasons similar to those of the Hares and to set up a cattle ranch. Soon after they arrived, their bank accounts – filled with funds from selling their farm in Canada – were frozen due to 'suspicious' activity, leaving the family stranded and frustrated. In a since-deleted YouTube video, Anneesa, visibly upset, confessed that she was 'ready to jump on a plane and get out of here.' They later made a new a video titled, 'We are sorry and we will do better,' in which Arend retracted their earlier criticism, saying they had spoken in a moment of frustration brought on by language barriers. 'This was not a reflection of our views on Russia, its people, its government, its banks or its laws.'

Musk Says He's Forming a New Political Party after Split with Trump over Tax Cuts Law
Musk Says He's Forming a New Political Party after Split with Trump over Tax Cuts Law

Yomiuri Shimbun

time11 hours ago

  • Yomiuri Shimbun

Musk Says He's Forming a New Political Party after Split with Trump over Tax Cuts Law

BRIDGEWATER, N.J. (AP) — Elon Musk said he's carrying out his threat to form a new political party after his fissure with President Donald Trump, announcing the America Party in response to the president's sweeping tax cuts law. Musk, once an ever-present ally to Trump as he headed up the slashing agency known as the Department of Government Efficiency, broke with the Republican president over his signature legislation, which was signed into law Friday. As the bill made its way through Congress, Musk threatened to form the 'America Party' if 'this insane spending bill passes.' 'When it comes to bankrupting our country with waste & graft, we live in a one-party system, not a democracy,' Musk said Saturday on X, the social media company he owns. 'Today, the America Party is formed to give you back your freedom.' Asked about the effort by reporters on Sunday afternoon as he prepared to return to Washington from his home in New Jersey, Trump called Musk's proposition 'ridiculous,' going on to tout 'tremendous success with the Republican Party.' 'The Democrats have lost their way, but it's always been a two-party system,' Trump added. 'And I think starting a third party just adds to confusion. It really seems to have been developed for two parties.' Third parties, Trump said, have never worked. The formation of new political parties is not uncommon, but they typically struggle to pull any significant support away from the Republican and Democratic parties. But Musk, the world's richest man who spent at least $250 million supporting Trump in the 2024 election, could impact the 2026 elections determining control of Congress if he is willing to spend significant amounts of money. His reignited feud with the president could also be costly for Musk, whose businesses rely on billions of dollars in government contracts and publicly traded company Tesla has taken a hit in the market. It wasn't clear whether Musk had taken steps to formally create the new political party. Spokespeople for Musk and his political action committee, America PAC, didn't immediately comment Sunday. As of Sunday morning, there were multiple political parties listed in the Federal Election Commission database that had been formed in the hours since Musk's Saturday X post with versions of 'America Party' of 'DOGE' or 'X' in the name, or Musk listed among people affiliated with the entity. But none appeared to be authentic, listing contacts for the organization as email addresses such as ' wentsnowboarding@ ' or untraceable Protonmail addresses. Musk on Sunday spent the morning on X taking feedback from users about the party and indicated he'd use the party to get involved in the 2026 midterm elections. Last month, he threatened to try to oust every member of Congress that voted for Trump's bill. Musk had called the tax breaks and spending cuts package a 'disgusting abomination,' warning it would increase the federal deficit, among other critiques. 'The Republican Party has a clean sweep of the executive, legislative and judicial branches and STILL had the nerve to massively increase the size of government, expanding the national debt by a record FIVE TRILLION DOLLARS,' Musk said Sunday on X. His critiques of the bill and move to form a political party mark a reversal from May, when his time in the White House was winding down and the head of rocket company SpaceX and electric vehicle maker Tesla said he would spend 'a lot less' on politics in the future. Treasury Secretary Scott Bessent, who clashed with Musk while he ran DOGE, said on CNN's 'State of the Union' on Sunday that DOGE's 'principles' were popular but 'if you look at the polling, Elon was not.' 'I imagine that those board of directors did not like this announcement yesterday and will be encouraging him to focus on his business activities, not his political activities,' he said.

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