Gov. Jeff Landry, Attorney General Liz Murrill, and state Sen. Jay Morris of West Monroe may win their battle against Calvin Duncan and the people of New Orleans.

They have the power and the votes. They have a Legislature that will do Landry’s bidding. They have a Louisiana Supreme Court that, by a 4-3 vote, upheld the Legislature’s decision to abolish the Orleans Parish Criminal Clerk of Court office after Duncan won the position.

And now that the special prosecutor in Orleans Parish has dropped criminal charges against Murrill for her unhinged threats against New Orleans officials, she and Landry may go all the way and crush New Orleans much like Huey Long in 1934.

But it all started with Duncan, a Black man who spent nearly three decades in prison for a crime he didn’t commit. After his exoneration, he attended college and graduated from law school. He built a life of service and reform.

If you’re looking for something inspiring to read, I highly recommend Duncan’s riveting memoir, The Jailhouse Lawyer. That Landry and Murrill chose to start this fight with New Orleans over Duncan speaks volumes about their low character and lack of concern for the well-being of the parish and its residents.

Recall that New Orleans voters elected Duncan criminal court clerk with 68 percent of the vote.

What did Landry, Murrill, and Morris do when this impressive, Black, exonerated Angola inmate won this office?

They erased the office.

Landry, Murrill, Morris and their allies may dress this up in the sterile language of “efficiency,” “consolidation” and “reform.” That is what politicians always do when the plain truth is too ugly to say out loud.

But this was not about courthouse reorganization or efficiency.

It was the state of Louisiana, controlled by white Republicans, moving against a majority-Black city after its voters elected a Black man whose very life exposes the racism, cruelty, and incompetence of Louisiana’s criminal justice system.

Morris carried the bill. Landry signed it. And Murrill defends it.

This is Landry’s and Murrill’s governing philosophy: punish New Orleans, override Black voters, protect your friends, and call it reform.

For now, Baton Rouge will dominate New Orleans.

Duncan will be denied the office that voters gave him. Murrill will escape accountability for her misconduct. Landry will get the fight he wants with the state’s most important city. And Morris will earn a few pats on the head from the MAGA crowd for doing their dirty work.

But history has a long memory, and this is really nothing new.

For generations, powerful white officials in Louisiana have used the law to nullify Black political power, then insist, with wounded innocence, that race has nothing to do with it.

The segregationists of the 1950s and 1960s had their laws, courts, sheriffs, legislative committees, and legal briefs, too. They also spoke the language of order, efficiency, and tradition.

But today, we don’t remember them as defenders of good government. We remember them as racists who used their public offices to humiliate, intimidate, and disenfranchise Black citizens.

That is the historical company Landry, Murrill, and Morris have chosen.

They may win this round, but if there is any justice in public memory, their victory will tarnish over time.

History won’t remember them as reformers. It will remember them as racist officials who saw a Black exoneree elected by New Orleans voters and decided those voters had to be overruled.

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Share Something Like the Truth: By Robert Mann

Like most of you, I’m outraged for 12 hours a day by the damage Donald Trump and his friends in Congress are doing to our country. My anger about what Gov. Jeff Landry and his flunkies have done to Louisiana takes up another four hours.

The other eight hours? I sleep. Fitfully.

I exaggerate, of course. In truth, I ignore Trump and Landry for long stretches each day. I’ve been finishing a new book. I volunteer in several ministries at my church, which keeps me occupied and feeling useful.

Still, like many of you, I find myself doomscrolling. Sometimes I get wound up, and other times it all depresses me.

Lately, whenever I feel my anger rise over some corrupt, racist, or stupid action by Trump or Landry, I pull out my stack of Postcards to Swing States and write five or six new cards.

It gives me a constructive outlet for my anger. I need those because outrage can eventually get the best of you.

In recent days, I’ve resolved to be far more intentional about it. From now until election day (and beyond), I pledge to:

Stop doomscrolling and find an escape. Instead of spending my idle time on social media, I’m reading more fiction. I read fiction because it’s a total escape into someone else’s world. It calms my mind. It builds empathy.

I’m also watching more movies and new streaming series (I just finished Widow’s Bay; it’s fantastic).

Spend even more time on creative pursuits. I’ve mostly finished my next work of nonfiction. I still have edits and rewrites, which will require another three or four months of periodic work. But I’ve also decided to try my hand at writing a novel. After four or five months of plotting, I started a first draft last week.

Give more to progressive candidates. When I get really angry about something Trump has done, I’ll make a campaign contribution to a Democratic House or Senate candidate. That includes Jamie Davis, the Democratic nominee for the U.S. Senate in Louisiana.

Keep writing postcards. It’s something useful I can do to help Democrats elsewhere. This month, I’m writing 200 postcards to voters in Nevada. I swear, I can now write “Las Vegas” on a postcard with my eyes closed. It feels good. It feels useful.

Keep ignoring cable news. Unless there’s a major breaking story, I never watch cable TV news. It’s mostly there to keep you outraged. As someone who never turns on CNN or any other cable news program, I promise you can stay well informed about what’s going on in the world without spending hours watching cable TV. After a week or two of weaning yourself from the cable outrage machine, you won’t regret it or miss it.

Finally, I’ll recite this prayer as often as I can:

A Serenity Prayer for the Midterm Elections

God, Grant me the serenity to accept that there are forces more powerful than I can change by my outrage alone.

Grant me the courage to do the work that is mine to do:
to make one phone call,
write one postcard,
encourage one discouraged voter,
support one good candidate,
attend one important public meeting,
correct one falsehood,
comfort one fearful neighbor,
and cast one faithful vote.

Give me the wisdom to distinguish between headlines designed to provoke my anger and the quiet acts of citizenship that strengthen democracy.

Keep me from confusing doomscrolling with engagement, despair with realism, or outrage with action.

When I feel overwhelmed by the daily spectacle of abusive power and ugly corruption, remind me that history is shaped not only by those who hold office but also by ordinary people who refuse to surrender their conscience.

Teach me to spend less time asking, “What outrageous thing happened today?” and more time asking, “What useful thing can I do today?”

For democracy is not sustained by heroes alone, but by millions of citizens who keep showing up, telling the truth, helping their neighbors, and refusing to give up.

Help me to be among them. Amen.

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Share Something Like the Truth: By Robert Mann

We don’t have to pretend Sen. Lindsey Graham was a political hero simply because he has died. Death doesn’t negate a public record, absolve a politician of responsibility for the damage he did, or require those harmed by his actions to praise him.

But there is a world of moral difference between honestly judging Graham’s life and celebrating his death.

For those of us who consider ourselves Christian, that distinction should be fundamental.

From almost the moment Graham’s death went public Sunday morning, people on the political left began posting celebratory messages about his death on social media.

The basic post is some variation of: “Graham was a horrible person who supported horrible policies that caused many people to suffer and some to die. Therefore, it’s great that he’s dead.”

To those posters who might consider themselves Christian, I can only respond that you misunderstand the Christian faith, or pervert it beyond meaning, when you take such a position.

Under no reasonable interpretation of the Christian faith is it good that Graham died. And there is no way to twist the gospels to support any scenario in which Jesus would have celebrated the death of someone who opposed or hated him.

Jesus didn’t command his followers to love only admirable people. He said, “Love your enemies and pray for those who persecute you.” That teaching is difficult—sometimes seemingly impossible—precisely because it applies to people we believe have acted cruelly, dishonestly, or unjustly.

Loving an enemy does not mean approving of their conduct. It means refusing to surrender their humanity—or our own—to hatred.

When we rejoice in another person’s death, something inside us also dies.

Whether you are Christian, Jewish, agnostic, or atheist, it dies because we are treating human life as valuable only when it belongs to someone on our side.

It dies because we are adopting the same moral tribalism we condemn in MAGA evangelicals: compassion for our allies, contempt for our opponents, and religious principles that vanish when they are inconvenient.

Here I’m writing to those who consider themselves progressive Christians: We can’t credibly accuse conservative Christians of abandoning the teachings of Jesus while treating “love your enemies” as optional. We can’t insist that faith should shape our political conduct only when that demand is directed at someone else.

Many of those celebrating Graham’s death because he supported policies that caused suffering are people who also oppose capital punishment. They correctly contend that even those convicted of terrible crimes retain inherent human dignity. They argue that the state shouldn’t respond to killing with more killing or satisfy society’s anger through execution.

Yet what principle allows us to defend the humanity of a mass murderer while cheering the death of a politician we despise?

Is the position really that convicted killers deserve mercy, but Lindsey Graham deserved death because of his votes and alliances?

Opposing the death penalty means believing that human worth does not depend on innocence, usefulness, or ideological agreement.

And Christianity goes further: Every person bears the image of God. That includes victims, political allies, and criminals.

Even Lindsey Graham.

We may condemn Graham’s record. We may describe the harm we believe he caused. We may warn future generations against his choices. Christianity does not require dishonest eulogies.

But it does require us to resist hatred.

Graham’s death should remind us that political power is temporary and human judgment is imperfect. We are not obligated to mourn him as a friend. But neither should we celebrate as though an enemy’s death were a victory.

The test of our principles and our faith is not how we treat people we love. It is whether we still believe in their humanity when we have every reason to despise what they did.

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Share Something Like the Truth: By Robert Mann

If you’re angry about what Donald Trump and his enablers have done to our country, worried about the Supreme Court’s corruption, or concerned about voting rights, Medicare, Medicaid, public education, civil rights, and the basic decency of American life, here’s one small but meaningful thing you can do: sign up for Postcards to Swing States.

This initiative, run by the Progressive Turnout Project, sends volunteers free postcards, voter lists, and instructions with tested message options.

Volunteers like you and me provide the postcard stamps — currently 61 cents each. (I ordered my stamps online today at https://www.usps.com.)

We write the cards at home and mail them to voters in key states and competitive US House districts in October, ahead of the Nov. 3 midterm elections.

The fight for Congress won’t be won by television ads alone. It will be won by turnout — by personally and directly reminding Democratic and progressive independent voters that their votes are needed.

Postcards work because they are human. They arrive in a mailbox not as another piece of digital noise but as a handwritten message from one citizen to another. They signal that someone cared enough to write. Someone believes your vote matters.

The impact is real.

Postcards to Swing States began in a volunteer’s garage and has since grown into a national effort with volunteers in all 50 states, D.C., and U.S. territories. The organization reports that volunteers have sent more than 99 million handwritten messages and that its 2024 postcard program added an estimated 200,000 votes.

I’ve done it in several elections over the past two years, and I know many of you have as well.

No single postcard saves democracy. But millions of small acts can change an election.

Please consider signing up. Order your postcards. Buy your stamps. Sit at your kitchen table and help turn out voters where margins may be razor-thin.

Know when to go

Mitch McConnell, Donald Trump, and Bill Cassidy do not have much in common temperamentally.

McConnell is reptilian and strategic. Trump is sloppy, overwrought, and grievance-driven. Cassidy has long portrayed himself as the earnest doctor-politician, the honest, reasonable man in an unreasonable party.

But all three share one fatal political flaw: they did not know when to leave gracefully.

That is not a small matter in public life. Democracies depend not only on elections, rules, and institutions but also on the character of people who recognize when their time has passed.

I’ll never forget the day in February 1985 when my then-boss, Russell Long, announced his retirement after 38 years in the U.S. Senate. Among the reasons he cited for leaving in his mid-sixties was that “people need to know when to go.”

I think he made the right call.

Just next door to our suite in the Russell Senate Office Building were Strom Thurmond of South Carolina, already ancient and mostly confused about where he was, and John Stennis of Mississippi, who was in a wheelchair and growing feebler by the day.

I’m certain Long saw both men pass by his office and vowed he’d never leave the Senate in that condition.

McConnell once had a legitimate claim to being among the most effective Senate leaders in modern history. He reshaped the federal judiciary and secured conservative victories that will endure for decades. (I know, it’s not a legacy to be proud of.)

But he’s stayed too long. The image now is not one of mastery but of decline: an aging senator (perhaps in a coma or dead as we read this) whose power has slipped away and whose long goodbye has become painful to watch.

Trump’s failure was more dangerous.

He lost the 2020 election and could have left as a defeated president, still wielding enormous influence over his party. Instead, he lied, raged, pressured local election officials, summoned a violent mob, and made loyalty to his wounded ego the defining test of Republican politics.

He didn’t merely refuse to leave gracefully. He taught millions of Americans that losing is illegitimate when their side comes up short.

Joe Biden, to his credit, finally did what Trump never could: he stepped aside. But he also waited until the choice was nearly taken from him.

Cassidy’s case is smaller yet more pathetic.

After voting to convict Trump for his role in the January 6 attack, he briefly appeared willing to pay a price for principle. But then he tried to survive in a party that had already turned on him. Rather than step aside with dignity and claim the high ground, he sought reelection from voters who had no intention of forgiving him. The result was not vindication. It was a humiliating rejection.

There is a lesson here, especially for politicians who confuse longevity with greatness: Staying too long can erase much of what came before. It can turn strength into stubbornness and service into self-preservation.

The graceful exit is underrated.

It requires humility, timing, and self-knowledge. Those are qualities American politics badly needs —qualities McConnell, Trump, and Cassidy never attempted.

Justice Guidry’s warning: No one is above the law

Louisiana Supreme Court Justice John Michael Guidry’s dissent in the court’s handling of Attorney General Liz Murrill’s criminal case is only two pages long. But it’s powerful and worth three minutes of your time.

Guidry wrote plainly. In his view, the court’s majority did something extraordinary — and dangerous — by rushing to give Murrill special treatment before the criminal process has had time to function.

“Without even allowing the ink to dry on the indictment,” Guidry wrote, the majority gave “preference and priority to one criminally accused citizen” over countless others, including defendants “languishing behind bars” while they wait months or years for courts to act.

I won’t try to summarize it here, because it’s brief and powerful enough that you can read it for yourself. Here it is below. The only edits I have made to it are to break up his two long paragraphs to make it a bit easier to read:

Without even allowing the ink to dry on the indictment, the majority gives preference and priority to one criminally accused citizen over all her fellow citizens who also have been criminally charged, many of whom are languishing behind bars awaiting action by lower courts, and it may take them years before they are ever granted review of their matters by this court.

There is no exigency that exists here that is not faced by every other indicted citizen. This is not supposed to be how the system works. Due process and equal protection under the law does not allow anyone to cut the line and have their matters considered more preferentially than others.

Such preferential treatment has no place under the rule of law where all individuals should stand on equal footing before the bar of justice.

As our state’s highest court, we should sincerely care about the rule of law and vigorously protect it without fear or favor. To do anything less is beneath the dignity of our state’s highest court.

This perilous and unprecedented action threatens this court’s long-term legitimacy in the eyes of the public. Can our court truly say with a straight face after today’s ruling, on the eve of the 250th anniversary of our nation’s independence, that we truly believe that no one is above the law?

Our actions should always be evidence based. Yet the majority takes this extraordinary and unprecedented action based on the applicant’s mere allegations, often couched in the legal jargon of “on information and belief,” unsupported by sworn record evidence. We have no idea what evidence was presented or what sworn testimony was given before the grand jury.

That is why this matter should be allowed to be vetted through the normal legal process. How can we even second guess that which we have not been made privy to?

Further, in a footnote in the majority opinion in Crockett v. State, 26-00594 (La. 6/1/26), ___ So. 3d ____(the decision upholding the removal of Calvin Duncan as the Criminal Clerk of Court of Orleans Parish), the majority made clear that the Orleans officials had not violated the law the attorney general wrote them about and that their action could not form the basis for any prosecution.

Now with today’s action, the majority repudiates that finding now that it seems to be at the core of the grand jury indictment.

Let me be absolutely clear, I believe every criminally accused person should be afforded the presumption of innocence and should be entitled to all the protections afforded the criminally accused under our state and federal constitutions on an equal basis before all courts, including this one.

Today, the majority’s action gives the public the perception that the scales of justice can be tilted to favor the position of one criminally accused person, but not others.

That erodes public confidence in the judiciary, undermines the rule of law, and makes a mockery of the ideal of blind justice. I cannot, in good conscience, be complicit in such a course of action and therefore, I respectfully dissent.

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Share Something Like the Truth: By Robert Mann

It ought to be considered a real race.

As the first Black candidate to win a major-party nomination in Louisiana since Reconstruction, Democratic U.S. Senate nominee Jamie Davis should be treated as a legitimate candidate in the November midterm election.

Some may scoff at that because of his race and his lack of money or political experience, and those might become disadvantages.

But with the right campaign and a modest amount of funding, Davis could mount a competitive race against GOP US Senate nominee Julia Letlow.

Here’s why:

Louisiana has one of the highest percentages of Black voters in the country. At 32 percent of registered voters, we are just behind Mississippi (35 percent) and nearly tied with Maryland (both at 32 percent).

Davis can be competitive with a strong Black turnout in New Orleans, Baton Rouge, Shreveport, Monroe, Alexandria, Lake Charles, and the River Parishes.

But Black turnout alone is not enough.

He needs the 15 to 20 percent of white voters who typically vote Democratic. He must also capture 5 to 10 percent of white voters who usually vote Republican but are reachable on rural healthcare/hospitals, property rights, Social Security/Medicare, tariffs, inflation, insurance, and corporate giveaways.

Winning over 20 to 25 percent of white voters is possible with a moderate level of spending and the right issues.

If Davis can get 35 of his points from Black turnout, he needs about 20 to 25 percent of the white vote to reach 50 percent.

In this environment, that’s not hard to imagine. In 2020, Georgia Sen. Raphael Warnock showed us how it’s done.

Trump, as an issue, is a double-edged sword for Letlow. Sure, Trump’s still popular here. He won the state by more than 20 points in 2024, but he’s also as unpopular here as he’s ever been. His ability to carry Letlow to the nomination in a low-turnout GOP primary is not the same as carrying her to victory in a higher-turnout midterm contest.

I’m torn about whether it’s in Letlow’s or Davis’s interest to nationalize this election.

Normally, I’d say Letlow would benefit most from such a contest, but with Trump growing increasingly unpopular and voters souring on his handling of the war in Iran, inflation, and the overall economy, making the election a referendum on Trump -- at least among Black voters -- might be a good idea for Davis.

Letlow has pledged to work in lockstep with Trump. She also absurdly calls him “the greatest president this country has ever had.” That will help her consolidate support among Republicans, but it also gives Davis a simple, effective contrast message: “Louisiana needs a senator, not a rubber stamp.”

The GOP primary exposed fissures that Davis can exploit. State Treasurer John Fleming attacked Letlow from the right on carbon capture, and carbon capture has become a real rural property rights issue in parts of Louisiana.

If Davis can speak to landowners, farmers, and rural conservatives who distrust big energy companies, pipelines, subsidies, and massive corporate state-subsidized deals, he might make some Republicans pause before voting automatically for Letlow.

Could Davis be a Black John Bel Edwards? When Edwards beat David Vitter in 2015, he did so because he was virtually unique among prominent Democrats in Louisiana: pro-life, pro-gun, a military veteran, from a law-enforcement family member, and with rural bona fides. That helped him with rural whites and others less inclined to vote for a Democrat.

Davis is also special in many ways that could help him get moderate whites to take him seriously.

He’s not a nationalized cable-news Democrat, nor is he a product of the Louisiana political class. He’s a northeast Louisiana crop farmer and a former Tensas Parish Police Jury member.

That gives him a chance to speak credibly to rural voters about healthcare (especially rural hospitals), education, insurance, energy projects, and affordability and food prices.

Davis is already framing the race around health care, education, affordability, and constitutional norms, calling them “kitchen-table, parish-level, no-corporate-PAC issues.”

That’s the right approach.

He doesn’t have to win rural Louisiana. He has to lose it less badly.

That means parish-by-parish organizing in the Delta, Acadiana, southwest Louisiana, and the Florida Parishes: courthouse and farm events, community meetings, visits to Black and white churches, and interviews on local radio and in local newspapers.

All that’s possible if he spends the right amount on a local organizing operation.

His lack of money may not be as crippling if he can maximize his fundraising to support get-out-the-vote efforts among Black voters and others inclined to support Democrats. I’m not going to try to tell you that having loads of campaign cash is overrated. You’d rather have $10 million vs $1 million every day. But having lots of cash also allows campaigns to throw money at TV and sometimes doesn’t require them to make smart, targeted spending decisions.

The dirty secret of big statewide campaigns is that much of the money spent on TV ads is wasted. You’re reaching people who are already going to vote for you or have decided they will never vote for you. You’re really spending millions to reach the small 5 to 10 percent in the middle who are still persuadable.

A leaner campaign can’t afford to communicate that way. It must target the smaller set of voters it believes it can motivate or persuade. Davis and national Democrats generally know who those voters are in Louisiana.

The fact remains that Letlow has outraised Davis by a wide margin — $5.3 million to $1.2 million from Jan. 1 to early June — but now that Davis is the Democratic nominee, the DNC, the Senate campaign committee, and Democratic PACs may be persuaded to send some seed money his way for ads and GOTV. If he starts polling well, they might send him even more.

That won’t make Louisiana easy by any stretch, but it will ensure Davis is not invisible to voters.

My sense is that this race can become competitive, but only if Davis reframes it as a Louisiana accountability race rather than a standard D-versus-R contest.

If it becomes a national partisan referendum, Letlow likely has the advantage. However, if it becomes “who is on your side when hospitals close, insurance premiums spike, land gets taken, and Washington ignores Louisiana,” Davis has a fighting chance to make it a real race.

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Share Something Like the Truth: By Robert Mann

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I’ll have more to say about the outcomes of the Republican and Democratic U.S. Senate primaries next week, after both parties have their nominees, but I’m sending this brief post this morning as a reminder to go vote today if you haven’t already.

Polls open at 7 a.m. and close at 8 p.m. If you don’t know your voting precinct, you can find it at this link.

I’ll be voting in the Democratic primary for Jamie Davis, who I believe would make a fine U.S. senator. If nominated, I know he will mount a respectable challenge to John Fleming or Julia Letlow.

At the local level, I’ll also vote to continue funding the invaluable East Baton Rouge Parish Library system, the vital work of the parish Council on Aging, and our amazing parks system, BREC.

If you live in EBR, I hope you’ll join me in supporting all three of those institutions.

Saturday’s elections will also include party primary runoffs for the Board of Elementary and Secondary Education (BESE) and the Public Service Commission.

According to the Louisiana Secretary of State, five parishes have local runoffs on the ballots: DeSoto, Madison, Richland, St. Martin, and Vernon.

Thirty-five parishes have propositions on the ballots: Acadia, Allen, Ascension, Assumption, Avoyelles, Bienville, Bossier, Caddo, Calcasieu, Caldwell, Claiborne, Concordia, East Baton Rouge, Evangeline, Grant, Jefferson, Jefferson Davis, Lafourche, Lincoln, Livingston, Morehouse, Natchitoches, Orleans, Ouachita, Sabine, St. Bernard, St. Helena, St. John the Baptist, St. Landry, St. Tammany, Tangipahoa, Tensas, Terrebonne, Washington, and Webster.

Five parishes have local runoffs and propositions on the ballots: Beauregard, Jackson, Rapides, Vermilion, and Winn.

And 19 parishes have 2nd party primaries only: Cameron, Catahoula, East Carroll, East Feliciana, Franklin, Iberia, Iberville, Lafayette, LaSalle, Plaquemines, Pointe Coupee, Red River, St. Charles, St. James, St. Mary, Union, West Baton Rouge, West Carroll, and West Feliciana.

If you want to see what’s on the ballot in your city, town, or parish before you head to the polls, you can find it here.

Now, geaux vote!

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Share Something Like the Truth: By Robert Mann

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He was perched near the top of the steps leading to the Lincoln Memorial on late Tuesday afternoon this week. The man—he looked to be in his sixties—held a simple wooden pole to which he had attached several handmade signs critical of Donald Trump and his administration.

One of them said, “Grandpa Lost to MAGA CULT? 800 GET HELP. Disagree? Let’s Talk!”

He didn’t shout. He wasn’t marching. There was no preaching. He wasn’t making a scene.

He was simply protesting. He was taking a stand against the direction of his country’s government, led by the worst, most corrupt, and inept president in history.

In the shadow of the memorial to the president who saved our Union, he declared his opposition to the man who seems intent on tearing that Union apart.

As I climbed the steps, I gave him a thumbs-up. I noticed a few others doing the same.

Later, I approached him and asked if I could take his picture. He smiled and said, “Sure.”

Then we began talking. I learned that his name is Mike. He lives nearby on Pennsylvania Avenue. He’s been in DC for more than 40 years.

And he felt the urge to do something. To say something.

Much like the young climate activist from Sweden, Greta Thunberg, he created a sign that simply announces his dissent.

Mike told me he walks over to the Lincoln Memorial a few times each week and sits on the steps with his sign for several hours.

Does it change minds? Who can say?

Does it stimulate the conversations with Trump supporters that the sign invites? I forgot to ask him about it. But my guess is that most people who disagree just walk by, assuming Mike is a kook.

But Mike didn’t seem like a kook to me. He seemed like a perfectly sane American who, I suspect, thought, “This is the least I can do. Maybe I can inspire people to take some kind of action, to speak out in their communities when they get home.”

I’ve made this point several times over the past several years: Courage is contagious.

People need to speak out. If you disagree with Trump or Gov. Jeff Landry and believe they are harming our democracy, you have an obligation to let the people around you know where you stand.

Maybe it’s announcing your dissent in an email to your friends and family. Maybe it’s posting your dissent on your Facebook page. Or it’s writing a letter to the editor of your local paper. Or volunteering to speak at a No Kings rally or to help at one.

There are a hundred other ways to announce, “This is not right. This is hurting our country. I object.”

You’ll probably get some blowback, but you might be surprised not only by who agrees with you but also by how you inspire a friend or two to do the same.

That’s how small movements grow into large ones—two or three people at a time, each inspiring another two or three, who each inspire another two or three.

Sometimes movements begin with a simple handmade sign and silent protest in a public space.

In the shadow of Abraham Lincoln, Mike is doing what he can. If nothing else, he inspired me and made me feel a little more hopeful about the country’s future. I suspect many others are also inspired to see him there.

What are you doing to influence and inspire the people in your community?

If you can’t think of anything, maybe create a sign and be like Mike.

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Share Something Like the Truth: By Robert Mann

Gov. Jeff Landry, lawmakers, economic development officials, and state utility regulators have embraced the massive artificial intelligence data centers cropping up around Louisiana as the state’s next great engine of economic growth.

The centerpiece is Meta’s Hyperion project in Richland Parish, a facility expected to become one of the world’s largest AI data centers.

The promise of riches is seductive: billions in investment, construction jobs, tax revenue, and a chance for economically struggling rural communities to participate in the digital economy.

But beneath the headlines and ribbon cuttings lies a troubling question: What if Louisiana assumes enormous financial risks while receiving only a fraction of the long-term economic benefits?

Those concerns should only grow when we look at them through the lens of the broader debate over artificial intelligence: A growing number of respected economists and market analysts warn that AI may be experiencing a speculative bubble reminiscent of the dot-com boom of the late 1990s.

Nobel Prize-winning economist Paul Krugman has argued that although AI may ultimately transform parts of the economy, investors and corporations may be overestimating the speed and scale of its near-term impact.

Other economists, including Daron Acemoglu, have questioned whether AI’s productivity gains will justify the trillions of dollars being invested in infrastructure, computing power, and energy generation.

If those skeptics are even partly correct, Louisiana could face a familiar boom-and-bust cycle: massive public and private investments based on projected demand that never fully materializes.

In that scenario, Louisiana taxpayers and utility customers are assuming risks not grounded in economic reality but in the excitement of a technological gold rush.

Meta’s Hyperion campus will require extraordinary amounts of electricity. To meet that demand, Entergy has proposed and received approval for new natural-gas power generation and major transmission investments.

Consumer advocates and environmental groups have warned that ordinary Louisiana ratepayers could ultimately be left holding the bag if projections prove wrong or corporate commitments change.

Those concerns only intensified earlier this year when reports revealed a complex financing arrangement between Meta and private-equity giant Blue Owl Capital.

As part of the restructuring, ownership of most of the data centers was transferred to a new entity, reducing Meta’s ownership stake. Critics argued that the arrangement could make it easier for Meta to break its promise to remain financially responsible for infrastructure costs over the long term.

Here’s how the Louisiana Illuminator reported on this troubling arrangement:

Meta, the parent company of Facebook and Instagram, reached an arrangement in October with Blue Owl Capital to transfer an 80% share of its Richland Parish data center to Beignet Investor, a new company the private equity firm created. The remaining 20% is now the property of a separate real estate holding company Meta owns indirectly from which it will lease the Hyperion artificial intelligence data center.

A recent Wall Street Journal report described the new data center ownership structure as “Frankenstein financing.” By relinquishing ownership of its $28 billion Hyperion data center, Meta moved billions in debt off its balance sheet. Its auditor, Ernst & Young, approved the arrangement while describing the maneuver as a “critical audit matter” that warrants investor attention.

The complex transaction prompted the Alliance for Affordable Energy and Union of Concerned Scientists to ask the Louisiana Public Service Commission [PSC] to look into the deal. The groups are concerned that customers of Entergy Louisiana, which is building a new power plant to provide electricity for the Hyperion campus, wouldn’t be protected if Meta decides to walk away from its data center

Entergy Louisiana has an agreement with Laidley LLC, the real estate entity with a 20% share of the data center, to build three natural gas-powered turbines to provide electricity to the facility for 15 years without shifting costs to Entergy’s household and small-business customers. The utility also has a “parent guarantee” that makes Meta liable if Laidley doesn’t hold up its end of the bargain.

Susan Miller, an attorney representing the two groups, told Public Service Commission members at Wednesday’s meeting they should at least investigate Meta’s unloading deal to ensure the ratepayers are still protected. She stressed that her clients’ motion was not an attempt to undo the commission’s approval of Entergy’s new power plant.

The PSC declined to investigate this transaction, accepting assurances from the project’s partners that existing contractual protections remain sufficient.

That refusal should concern us.

After all, the issue is not merely whether Meta will honor its commitments today. It’s whether Louisiana taxpayers and utility customers will be protected if circumstances change tomorrow.

Anyone who’s watched technology markets knows how quickly they evolve. Artificial intelligence is experiencing explosive growth. But predicting demand a decade from now is impossible. The history of technology is littered with projects that seemed indispensable until they suddenly weren’t.

The concern consumer advocates raise is straightforward: If a data center requiring massive infrastructure investments scales back operations, changes ownership, or becomes economically obsolete, who pays for the power plants and transmission lines built specifically to serve it?

Critics of these deals argue that ordinary customers could absorb some of those costs through higher utility rates.

Across the country, utilities and regulators are grappling with how to accommodate an unprecedented surge in electricity demand from AI data centers. Analysts warn us that data-center expansion is driving billions of dollars in new infrastructure spending and creating pressure for higher electricity rates.

Some states are already debating whether technology companies should be required to bear more of the costs of the power they consume.

Louisiana faces an added challenge: its long history of handing out generous incentives to spur economic development.

Under a series of governors, Louisiana leaders have repeatedly bought into the argument that large corporate projects would transform our economy. Louisiana’s economic development leaders have too often measured success by announced investment dollars rather than verified long-term job and income growth.

Sometimes these new projects have been beneficial, but none of them have been transformative. And several have been huge disappointments.

What makes data centers particularly complicated and risky is that they attract substantial investment without creating many permanent jobs.

During construction, they employ thousands of workers. Once the center is online, however, the workforce shrinks considerably. The Hyperion project, despite its massive scale, is expected to employ only a few hundred permanent workers.

And that raises a fundamental question: Will Louisiana receive sufficient long-term economic benefit to justify the public costs, tax incentives, infrastructure commitments, and utility risks assumed on behalf of these projects?

The answer may depend on who bears the risk.

If Meta and other technology companies fully absorb the costs of their enormous power demands, Louisiana could benefit from new investment with limited exposure. But if utility customers are forced to subsidize infrastructure or assume financial obligations under new corporate arrangements, the equation changes significantly and could be harmful to Louisiana ratepayers.

None of the potential economic risks means Louisiana should reject data centers out of hand. It’s too late for that, anyway. (By the way, I’m setting aside for now the environmental costs of all this, which are huge, potentially destructive, and worth considering in a separate post.)

The state should compete for major investments and embrace emerging industries. Artificial intelligence will likely shape the global economy for decades.

But a state’s economic development strategy should not be grounded in faith and hope.

The proper role of government is not to cheerlead for corporations. It’s asking difficult questions before making commitments. It’s prioritizing the well-being of taxpayers and ratepayers.

The data-center boom may be transformative for Louisiana. But our history suggests that when our politicians become dazzled by promises of economic development (and they always do), caution and good sense are often the first casualties.

Before Louisiana builds its future around AI infrastructure, we deserve clear answers about who profits, who pays, and who assumes the risk if billion-dollar bets fail.

Those important questions should have been answered long before the Public Service Commission declined to take a closer look.

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Share Something Like the Truth: By Robert Mann

The constitutional amendment on Louisiana’s November ballot that would limit governors to two lifetime terms may be intended to protect Gov. Jeff Landry. Instead, it could become a political headache for him.

On paper, the amendment is simple: no governor could ever serve more than two terms, even if those terms are nonconsecutive.

But everyone knows what it’s really about: Former Gov. John Bel Edwards is the only Democrat with statewide stature, a proven fundraising network, and a demonstrated ability to win elections in a state that has shifted heavily toward the Republican Party.

This amendment is clearly an effort to keep Edwards from staging a comeback.

And that understanding may prove politically damaging to Landry.

Voters don’t like politicians who fear competition. If the amendment is seen not as a neutral good-government reform but rather as an attempt to block a specific political opponent, it sends the exact wrong message as Landry begins his run for a second term.

Rather than projecting strength, it projects anxiety. Rather than signaling confidence, it suggests that Landry and his allies are worried about what might happen if Edwards offers himself to voters for another term as governor.

And it says that they don’t believe Landry can defend his record against Edwards, but instead needs to prevent him from running at all.

The irony is that this proposed constitutional amendment could serve as a months-long reminder that Edwards is Landry’s most formidable potential rival.

Every debate over the amendment will inevitably raise the same question: Why are Republicans so eager to prevent Edwards from running again?

That question alone adds to Edwards’ political relevance at a moment when he is out of office and largely absent from daily political battles.

Compounding the problem is the growing recall effort against Landry. Whether the recall succeeds is almost beside the point. (I think it has a real chance.)

Recall campaigns generate headlines, attract volunteers, energize opponents, and focus public attention on an incumbent’s weaknesses. They also provide a vehicle for discontent and a rallying point for voters alienated by the governor’s agenda.

Now imagine these two stories unfolding simultaneously throughout the late summer and early fall.

On one front, voters are asked whether Landry should face a potential future challenge from Edwards. On the other front, they are asked whether Landry’s performance in office has been poor enough to justify removing him before his term ends.

Neither conversation is particularly helpful for an incumbent heading into a reelection year.

And the greatest danger for Landry is that this proposed amendment becomes a proxy referendum on his political standing. Or even worse for Landry, it could become a proxy match-up between him and Edwards.

Voters who dislike Landry may vote against the amendment, not because they have strong views on gubernatorial term limits, but because they see it as an effort to rig the field against a popular former governor.

In that scenario, a defeat would be interpreted not merely as a rejection of the amendment but as a rejection of Landry himself.

For a governor who entered office projecting confidence and dominance, that would be a costly signal. A failed amendment, combined with an energized recall movement, could wound Landry and send him limping, not striding confidently, into 2027.

Once voters sense that kind of vulnerability, political fortunes can shift very quickly.

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Share Something Like the Truth: By Robert Mann

Republican leaders in the Louisiana Legislature are not content with disenfranchising half of the state’s Black voters through a racial gerrymander. They have nearly finished eliminating one of two majority-Black congressional districts in a state that is one-third Black.

That’s all egregious enough.

And it’s being done at the direction of Donald Trump, who fears losing his majorities in Congress in the upcoming November midterm elections.

But there’s more.

Instead of changing course or reining in the corrupt authoritarianism that’s made him historically unpopular, Trump now wants Republicans across the country to rig the elections: Instead of allowing Louisiana voters to choose their representatives, he wants the representatives to choose their voters.

And those representatives want white voters—not Black voters—to have disproportionate political power and influence.

But it’s not enough that a third of the state’s population will soon have its political influence halved.

Now, Republicans at the state capitol want to make it harder and more confusing to vote at all.

Louisiana’s Republican secretary of state has reported no serious or widespread voter fraud, but that’s of no concern to Republicans in Baton Rouge. They’re not concerned about nonexistent fraud.

They’re concerned, instead, about the “wrong” type of person voting.

Here’s how the Baton Rouge Advocate describes a bill about to be passed by lawmakers:

Currently, if voters show up to the polls without a picture ID, they can sign an affidavit confirming their identity and listing their date of birth and mother’s maiden name.

Under SB319, voters will no longer have that option. Instead, to cast a ballot without a photo ID or other identifying documents, they’ll have to go to the office of the registrar of voters in that parish and cast a conditional ballot. Then, they’ll have two days to present the required photo identification for the ballot to be counted.

The bill would also limit what documents count as photo ID. Examples include a Louisiana driver’s license or ID, passport or other citizenship document that has a photo and signature and a military or tribal ID. Currently, to confirm someone’s identity, poll workers can accept a “generally recognized picture identification card that contains the name and signature of the applicant.”

If a voter doesn’t have photo ID, they’ll have the option to present a combination of two other identifying documents. At least one would have to be a “primary” document such as a birth certificate, Social Security card or certificate of citizenship. The second document could be an item like a voter registration notice, recent utility bill, bank statement or pay stub.

These new voter ID requirements will almost certainly make it harder for poor people and minorities to vote.

Many low-income voters lack government-issued photo IDs, reliable transportation to DMV offices, or the supporting documents needed to obtain identification, such as certified birth certificates or passports. Black and other minority voters are disproportionately represented among low-income Louisianans, so the burden will fall unevenly across racial and ethnic lines.

Tightening the ID rules will add yet another bureaucratic hurdle for citizens who are already eligible to vote.

Critics of voter ID laws nationwide rightly note that these measures function less as anti-fraud protections than as barriers to participation—especially given that documented cases of in-person voter impersonation are extraordinarily rare.

In practice, the people most likely to be deterred from voting are not criminals or undocumented people, but elderly, poor, rural, and minority voters—those who already face the greatest obstacles in navigating government systems.

This bill is essentially a mini-SAVE Act, legislation championed by Trump and his allies and designed to make it harder for minorities and women to vote.

It rests on the premise that everyone should have to prove who they are before they vote—and that everyone already has an ID, so they just need to show it, and the problem is solved.

But that simple-sounding premise simply does not match reality.

The piece at this link by Brandeis University student journalist Sam Wexler is worth your time. But the following passage from Wexler in The Justice, the university’s independent student newspaper, is particularly relevant to the debate over the Louisiana voter ID law. He writes:

[L]ook at the practical steps someone must go through to obtain the photo ID necessary to vote. While the statutory language [in the SAVE Act] can vary between the House-passed version and a final version [of an executive order] signed by the president, the currently specified acceptable forms of voter ID are a U.S. passport (book or card), a state-issued driver’s license, a state-issued non-driver identification card, a military identification card, a tribal government-issued photo ID, a federal government-issued photo ID, a state government-issued photo ID and a U.S. territory-issued photo ID.

Looking at this wide list of acceptable IDs, most people may think they would already have one, almost by default, if they’ve ever left the country for vacation, driven a car to work or opened a bank account.

However, as likely as that may seem, it is not the reality for millions of voting-age Americans. In actuality, as of a 2023 survey, 52% of Americans lack a passport, 29 million lack a driver’s license, and there are 5.9 million unbanked households, with 5.7% of Americans being paid in cash according to the FDIC. This is the reality many Americans live in.

A 2023 University of Maryland research study found that 7 million voting-age U.S. citizens lacked any form of non-expired government-issued photo identification. With 260 million voting-age Americans, that makes up 2.7% of the entire population. For reference, a sum of 311,257 votes across the six major battleground states won Joe Biden the 2020 election.

Let’s be clear: This Republican bill being pushed through the Legislature isn’t about making our election system safer from (non-existent) voter fraud.

It’s about protecting Republican candidates from minority voters who might support a Democrat.

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Recalling Gov. Jeff Landry?

The overwhelming rejection of the five constitutional amendments on the recent statewide ballot suggests there’s a will to recall Gov. Jeff Landry, as the grassroots organization Louisiana Deserves Better is trying to do.

The group is also trying to recall Attorney General Liz Murrill and East Baton Rouge Mayor-President Sid Edwards.

I was more than a little skeptical at first about the prospects of recalling Landry. And let’s be honest, the bar is very high: Organizers must collect the verified signatures of 20 percent of the state’s 2.8 million voters by the end of October.

That’s about 580,000 signatures—probably a lot more, to be safe—in just under six months.

That high bar is why no Louisiana governor has ever been recalled.

It will be difficult to make this a reality. But, judging by the energy we’ve seen in the recall’s early days and the turnout against the amendments, there’s a chance it could happen.

But that means we must participate. We need to sign the petition, bring a friend or two, and share information about the recall with our like-minded neighbors, friends, and family.

Here’s what you and I need to know about the recall effort

To sign a recall petition, a voter must meet strict legal requirements. Louisiana does not accept online or electronic signatures for recall petitions.

Here’s the process.

You must:

1. Be a registered Louisiana voter
You must be a qualified elector registered to vote in Louisiana. If you are not registered, your signature will not count.

2. Sign an official state-approved recall form
The recall drive must use the official statewide recall form approved by the Louisiana Secretary of State, or an exact, legally compliant duplicate. Anything else is invalid.

3. Sign the form in person
Louisiana law requires handwritten signatures. There is no valid online petition system for recalling the governor. You cannot legally sign a petition on Change.org, by email, via DocuSign, through QR codes, or on social media forms.

4. Provide the required identifying information
On the petition sheet, voters generally must provide: printed name, signature, residential address, parish, and date signed. The information must match voter registration records so registrars can verify it. Sloppy or mismatched entries may be rejected during certification.

5. Sign within the legal collection period
For the current Landry recall effort, organizers have 180 days from filing to collect signatures. That’s puts the deadline around October 31.

6. Sign only once
Duplicate signatures are typically invalidated during verification.

7. Use your actual residence address
Using a mailing address, business address, or old registration address can cause the signature to be rejected.

Louisiana Deserves Better also advises signers to bring a photo ID and their voter card when signing.

Also, don’t sign any petition that isn’t organized by Louisiana Deserves Better. You can find approved sites at this link.

What happens if the organizers collect the required number of signatures?

If a recall petition against Landry gathers enough valid signatures, Louisiana law mandates a formal statewide recall election.

Here’s what happens next:

1. Registrars certify the signatures
   Each parish registrar of voters verifies petition signatures against voter-registration records. Invalid signatures are removed. These include nonregistered voters, duplicate signatures, incomplete entries, wrong addresses, signatures outside the filing window, or unreadable/uncertain matches.

2. Results go to the Secretary of State
   Once parish registrars complete verification, the totals are transmitted to the Louisiana Secretary of State. If the required threshold is met, the Secretary of State’s office formally certifies the recall petition as sufficient.

3. The governor is officially notified
   The state then formally notifies the officeholder that the recall petition has succeeded on procedural grounds.

4. A statewide recall election is scheduled
   If enough verified signatures are collected, Louisiana law requires that a recall election be called. Voters statewide would then vote “yes” or “no” on whether to remove the governor from office before the end of the term.

5. The recall election happens
   The ballot question is, essentially:

• YES = remove the governor

• NO = keep the governor in office

A simple majority decides the outcome.

6. If the recall succeeds, the office becomes vacant
   If more voters support removal than oppose it, Landry is removed from office immediately after the results are certified.

7. The lieutenant governor becomes governor
   Under the Louisiana Constitution’s succession rules, the lieutenant governor automatically assumes the governorship for the remainder of the term. There is no separate replacement election for governor after a successful recall.

Right now, that would mean Lt. Gov. Billy Nungesser would become governor if Landry were recalled.

Where can you sign?

You can find the latest schedule of times and places around the state at this link.

Here are the locations where organizers will be collecting signatures in the coming days.

First, the multi-day times and locations:

And here are the times and locations for sites over the next few days:

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