“It’s the inflation, stupid.” 

That twist on the Bill Clinton-era slogan, ”It’s the economy, stupid,” could easily become the mantra for this November’s midterm elections. Inflation is running at an annual rate of 7.5%, the highest level in 40 years. And unlike other aspects of the economy that are currently strong – including low unemployment and robust growth – it touches everybody in a tangible way. 

“Inflation is very personal,” says Capri Cafaro, an executive-in-residence at American University’s School of Public Affairs and a former Ohio Democratic state senator. “When everything you buy is more expensive and your income is going less and less far, people are going to get frustrated.”

Whom do voters blame? Most often the party in power. With Democrats’ narrow House and Senate majorities already in major peril come November – and President Joe Biden’s approval ratings barely above 40% – high inflation only deepens the challenge. 

Most economists concede there’s not much a president can actually do about inflation. But even if he can’t fix it, President Biden has to be seen trying, Democratic strategists say. That starts with stronger public messaging – both expressing empathy, by acknowledging that some Americans are struggling to pay higher bills, and pitching solutions. Attempts to address pandemic-related problems with the supply chain, which contributed to some price spikes, have not been a panacea. 

J. Scott Applewhite/AP

Cecilia Rouse, chair of the president's Council of Economic Advisers, along with other advisers Jared Bernstein and Heather Boushey, testifies before the Senate Banking Committee on the state of the economy and inflation, at the U.S. Capitol in Washington, Feb. 17, 2022.

Until recently, Mr. Biden would bristle at media questions on inflation, muttering an expletive at a Fox News reporter last month, and last week calling NBC anchor Lester Holt a “wiseguy” for asking him what he meant when he claimed inflation would be “temporary.” Now the president and other top Democrats are making clear they take the problem seriously. 

“There’s real inflation,” Mr. Biden said Tuesday in remarks to county executives. “If you’re in a working-class family, it hurts.” 

He touted elements of his Build Back Better plan as a financial lifeline – including lowered prescription drug costs and subsidies for child care. The $1.7 trillion plan is stalled in Congress, and Mr. Biden has endorsed breaking it up and passing key pieces separately. 

Politically, presidents live and die by the economy – though controlling inflation is the purview of the Federal Reserve, which operates independently of the White House. Chair Jerome Powell has signaled that the Fed is likely to start raising interest rates next month, in an effort to keep high inflation from becoming entrenched. 

But even there, politics has entered with a vengeance. The president nominates members of the Fed’s board of governors, and this week, Republicans skipped a Senate committee hearing for five nominees – including Mr. Powell for his second term as chair – over objections to one. 

In a call with reporters Wednesday, Democratic National Committee Chair Jaime Harrison accused GOP lawmakers of “actively trying to kneecap our economic recovery as we emerge from this global pandemic.” 

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U.S. Bureau of Labor Statistics

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Jacob Turcotte/Staff

Beyond the Fed and Mr. Biden’s fight to confirm board members in time for the March meeting, Democratic strategists say the president needs to be clear about what he can and can’t do, and to use his bully pulpit. His State of the Union address March 1 may be his best opportunity all year to get voters’ attention – and draw a contrast with Republicans. 

“Americans will look at who’s trying to solve the problem and who’s just criticizing,” says Democratic consultant Karen Finney.

Since signing into law $1.2 trillion in infrastructure spending last November, Mr. Biden has traveled the country focusing on projects, including a trip to northeast Ohio today. Infrastructure spending doesn’t bring the immediate relief that voters are looking for on consumer prices, but it will create “a sense of economic momentum,” Ms. Finney says.

Speaking Thursday in Lorain, Ohio, which sits on Lake Erie, Mr. Biden touted a record $1 billion investment of federal infrastructure money to clean up sites in six states around the Great Lakes. 

The funding will help make the water “safer for swimming and fishing, drinking, providing habitats for wildlife and wildfowl,” he said, adding that 40 million people get their drinking water from the Great Lakes.

Democratic strategist Jesse Ferguson points to polling by Navigator Research, which he advises, as showing some hope for Mr. Biden and his party. While voters are unhappy with Democrats’ economic performance, there’s room for growth among the many who favor the party’s economic agenda over that of Republicans. 

“There are people out there who can be brought along on our economic record and agenda – if they hear about it,” Mr. Ferguson says. 

Some Democratic lawmakers are looking for a quick, high-profile strike at rising prices: a pause in the federal gas tax, about 18 cents a gallon, for the rest of the year. The White House hasn’t endorsed the idea, but says “all options remain on the table.” Two vulnerable Democratic senators introduced legislation last week to suspend the tax. 

Elizabeth Frantz/Reuters

Republican Sen. Rob Portman of Ohio speaks during a news conference about inflation, on Capitol Hill in Washington, Feb. 16, 2022. Republicans have been hammering the Biden administration on the issue in advance of November's midterm elections.

But not all Democrats like the idea. It incentivizes the use of a fossil fuel, and there are concerns it could ultimately benefit producers of gas more than consumers. Some Democrats also express concern it could be hard to reinstitute the tax later. Former Treasury Secretary Larry Summers calls it a “gimmick.” 

Professor Cafaro, the former Ohio state senator, is also not a fan. Right as the federal infrastructure law is kicking in, to limit funds to the federal trust fund that pays for highways and bridges sends a mixed message.

“From a practical standpoint, it’s shortsighted,” says Ms. Cafaro, who has served on state and national committees on transportation. 

Another Democratic argument on inflation – that it’s the result of “corporate greed” – has been popular among progressive populists, but many economists are not buying it. 

Veronique de Rugy, an expert on political economy at the Mercatus Center at George Mason University, says greed can’t be ruled out in some instances. But it’s not the overarching reason prices are going up. 

The real problem, she says, is that the policies of “fiscal accommodation” – sending people checks – “continued long past the time that the economy had recovered.” 

“It took a while for people to recognize this, but there were a lot of voices, even on the left, saying, ‘Don’t do the American [Rescue Plan],’” says Professor de Rugy, referring to the $1.9 trillion pandemic relief measure passed early in the Biden presidency. 

She mentions both former Secretary Summers and Jason Furman, the top economist in the Obama White House, as American Rescue Plan skeptics. 

“It was too big,” she says. “What you end up with is really juicing the demand way too much.”

Alex Brandon/AP

President Joe Biden shakes hands with Qatar's emir, Sheikh Tamim bin Hamad Al Thani, in the Oval Office of the White House, Jan. 31, 2022.

As the Ukraine crisis built daily in late January, and President Joe Biden sought energy producers who might replace Russian gas supplies to Europe, he turned to his new Gulf Arab diplomatic troubleshooter: Qatar.

Qatari Emir Sheikh Tamim bin Hamad Al Thani, visiting the White House, obliged. President Biden called the emir a “good friend and a reliable partner” and described Qatar as “central” to many U.S. vital interests.

The late January event, making the emir the first Gulf leader to visit the Biden White House, punctuated a remarkable turnaround for Qatar.

A little more than a year after emerging from diplomatic isolation and an economic blockade imposed by its neighbors, the tiny gas- and oil-rich country is positioning itself as a go-to partner and fixer for the Biden administration as Washington navigates diplomatic crises from Gaza to Afghanistan.

For the traditionally neutral Qatar, the new role and change of fortune highlight its determination that the key to its future security and prosperity lies with Washington. The White House, meanwhile, is signaling that it has a new Gulf Arab partner more amenable to its foreign policy goals than the United Arab Emirates and with less political baggage than Saudi Arabia.

Although Qatar alone could not substitute for Russian gas, Doha is actively campaigning for a collective effort among gas and energy-producing nations to provide an immediate stopgap solution should Moscow halt its pipeline flow.

Major non-NATO ally

The visit “shows how much the U.S. is turning to Qatar for help when it comes to serious diplomatic crises,” says Giorgio Cafiero, CEO of Gulf State Analytics, a Washington-based geopolitical risk firm.

“While the Biden administration seeks to retain close ties with all six GCC [Gulf Cooperation Council] states, it sees Qatar as a little more aligned with the administration’s agendas,” including its multilateral, diplomacy-first approach, Mr. Cafiero adds.

Issei Kato/Reuters/File

A liquefied natural gas tanker is tugged toward a thermal power station in Japan in 2017. Qatar, the world's second-largest exporter of LNG, has offered to increase its exports to Europe to help offset any loss in supply of Russian gas resulting from the Ukraine crisis.

It was no surprise, then, that Mr. Biden used the White House visit to designate Qatar as a major non-NATO ally and thus eligible for access to military and space technology – the 18th country to hold the distinction and the third Gulf state after Bahrain and Kuwait.

Qatar's rise comes as other traditional U.S. allies in the Gulf have fallen somewhat out of favor. The UAE, which has faced political backlash in Washington over its involvement in the Yemen war, has also been unwilling to loosen its strategic relationship with China, its largest trade partner and key investor.

Meanwhile, Mr. Biden has refused to engage directly with Saudi Arabia’s de facto ruler, Crown Prince Mohammed bin Salman, whose widely suspected involvement in the murder of Saudi journalist Jamal Khashoggi has damaged his international standing. The U.S. administration sees direct cooperation with Riyadh as a political liability.

Shifting priorities

Qatar, on the other hand, has changed its geopolitical priorities in Washington's favor.

At the outbreak of the 2011 Arab Spring, Qatar saw an opportunity to shape developments across the Arab world. It bankrolled and supported Islamists, democrats, revolutionary forces, and militias in Egypt, Libya, and Syria, and its TV station, Al Jazeera, was openly critical of regional regimes.

That led its Gulf neighbors to impose a crushing economic blockade in 2017. Then-President Donald Trump initially sided with Riyadh and Abu Dhabi, but changed course in 2018 and hosted Qatar’s emir in a bid to strengthen his anti-Iran push. The U.S. State Department encouraged steps toward Gulf reconciliation that eventually led to an agreement signed in Al Ula, Saudi Arabia, ending the blockade and mending ties.  

But the experience was transformative for Qatar, observers say, showing the value of multilateralism and close ties with a superpower.

“There was a realization in Doha that Washington always needs to come first and that Qatar needs to be on Washington’s side,” says Andreas Krieg, professor at King’s College London, describing Doha as “going all-in” on its U.S. alliance.   

“Qatar started looking at how and where it can support U.S. foreign policy interests,” he adds.

Areas of cooperation

The emirate started with Afghanistan; Doha has played the role of go-between for the United States and the Taliban since the Obama administration.

Qatar stepped in amid the chaotic Afghanistan withdrawal in August 2021 to help ensure the safe passage of U.S. troops and citizens, operating several evacuation flights for refugees. A large number of the 7,000 Afghans still on U.S. military bases awaiting processing and resettlement are in Qatar.

Reuters/File

The logo of Qatar Petroleum is seen at its headquarters in Doha, Qatar.

With Washington yet to officially recognize the Taliban government, Qatar is currently representing U.S. interests in Afghanistan, looking after American assets and opening a consular section in its Kabul embassy, providing services for U.S. citizens.

Last month, Doha brokered an agreement with the Taliban to resume evacuation flights; Qatar Airways is one of the few airlines  operating out of the officially closed Kabul Airport.

Qatar has also mediated between Washington and Hamas, the Palestinian group that rules the Gaza Strip but which the U.S. has designated a terrorist organization. When violence between Israel and Hamas escalated into a punishing war in Gaza last year, Doha helped broker a cease-fire.

Trusted by Israel, the U.S., and the European Union, Doha is providing aid to the besieged Gaza Strip, supporting 100,000 vulnerable families through a United Nations-run voucher system, partially subsidizing the salaries of 50,000 government employees, and rehabilitating the territory’s ravaged energy and water sectors.

More durable relationship

Through its diplomatic heavy-lifting and close cooperation with the Pentagon, State Department, and White House, observers say, Qatar is seeking to institutionalize its alliance with the U.S. beyond personal relationships. That way, they say, it can withstand the whiplash of political changes in the White House and Congress.

Already, Qatar hosts the Al Udeid Air Base, the largest U.S. military facility in the Middle East, housing 11,000 service members, U.S. CENTCOM Forward Command, and the Central Command’s Combined Air Operations Center. Most recently it was the launching pad for thousands of sorties against Islamic State targets in Iraq and Syria.

Since 2003, Qatar has contributed $8 billion to the base’s expansion.

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U.S. Department of State

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Jacob Turcotte/Staff

Six American universities have branches in Qatar, the U.S. is the largest direct investor in Qatar, and Qatar is an increasingly valuable trading partner for the U.S, with more than 120 U.S. companies operating in the country. During the White House visit, Qatar announced an $8 billion contract to purchase freight and passenger aircraft from Boeing for Qatar Airways. 

Qatar sees its new designation as a major non-NATO ally not only as a safeguard for its future ties with Washington, but also as a deterrence and insurance policy should its Gulf neighbors tear up the Al Ula agreement and once again impose a blockade.

“There is no naiveté in Qatar to think this is the end of the ideological differences with their Gulf neighbors," Professor Krieg says. "Now they are much better prepared for when the next crisis comes along.” 

Benoit Tessier/Reuters

A protester stands atop a vehicle in Paris on Feb. 12, 2022, as cars parade during a "freedom convoy" to protest against the government's COVID-19 vaccination policy and restrictions.

The protesters are very, very few in number.

But copycat demonstrations around the world in the wake of Canada’s trucker blockades still pose a thorny problem for major democracies, just as they are beginning to hope that the worst effects of the COVID-19 pandemic might be waning.

The main challenge isn’t policing. Nor is it the policy issue emblazoned on placards from Paris to the New Zealand capital, Wellington – vaccination rules.

Rather, it is the array of extremist groups that have attached themselves to the convoys, using them as platforms for their confrontational brand of politics.

And ultimately at stake is the political ground such extremists hope to cultivate, comprising the many ordinary, often apolitical, citizens in whom two years of pandemic isolation, restrictions, and social or economic loss have built up a store of frustration and anger.

Addressing that deeper challenge will be partly down to governments, and the first step may be simply recognizing it exists. French President Emmanuel Macron seemed to indicate as much after police succeeded in limiting a Canada-style protest in Paris on Sunday.

“We are all collectively tired of what we have been living through,” he declared. “This fatigue shows itself in different ways: in confusion for some, depression for others. And sometimes that fatigue manifests itself in anger.”

But other influencers will have to be part of the answer as well – community and social groups, parents and educators, and the social media platforms themselves.

Their challenge will be to find a way to dial down the anger – to build on the widespread common sacrifice and cooperation seen early in the pandemic, so as to prevent its tail end from ushering in a new period of confrontation and polarization.

Praveen Menon/Reuters

Protesters camp in front of Parliament in Wellington, New Zealand, on Feb. 14, 2022, in a rally against COVID-19 restrictions and vaccine mandates.

The good news on that front is that the protesters are not just few in number. So far at least, they are unrepresentative. A wide majority of people in the countries affected have followed pandemic mandates and guidelines. In Canada, most truckers are vaccinated. Their labor union has denounced the blockades.

And while some countries’ leaders have seen a fall in their popularity, like Canada’s Prime Minister Justin Trudeau or New Zealand’s Jacinda Ardern, there has been no sign of widespread support for the protests aimed at causing gridlock in major city centers.

Yet beneath even the generally genteel surface in New Zealand – where the authorities forswore water cannon to disperse protesters in favor of lawn sprinklers – there have been signs of the longer-term challenge ahead.

For months, the social media temperature there has been rising, and it’s not just political activists fanning the flames, according to the Te Punaha Matatini research institute. All sorts of ordinary citizens, with no particular political ax to grind, have been spewing invective on Facebook.

“Two years of the pandemic is very, very tough,” Paul Hunt, the head of New Zealand’s independent Human Rights Commission, told Britain’s Guardian newspaper. “People are struggling financially, emotionally, mentally … and sometimes people do lash out at something else – or someone else.”

The vituperation has spilled over into the Wellington protests. “Just got told I’m going to be executed by a woman holding a sign saying ‘love is the cure,’” tweeted one television reporter. And the influence of far-right political activists has been seeping in. A statue was defaced with a swastika. One protester scrawled “hang ’em high” outside Parliament.

A similar trend was highlighted last weekend in a report on how Britons opposed to vaccines are using Telegram, the encrypted phone and messaging service.

As with the “freedom ride” protesters, their numbers are very small; the researchers found about 220,000 “unique active” users in the anti-vaccine community, no more than one-third of 1% of the population.

Nick Iwanyshyn/The Canadian Press /AP

Canadian protesters gather in a demonstration in Ottawa against COVID-19 restrictions, now in its third week. Days after Prime Minister Justin Trudeau invoked an emergency law, police in Ottawa are issuing warnings that protesters may be arrested if they don't move their trucks.

They noted significant “crossover” between these Telegram users and the right-wing conspiracy theory group QAnon, along with United Kingdom-based conspiracy theorists and an anti-state militia.

In the longer run, however, it’s the non-extremists, the much wider group of voters feeling varying levels of pandemic frustration or anger, who may determine the trajectory and tone of politics in post-pandemic democracies.

How to engage with such voters – beyond Mr. Macron’s initial words of outreach – is a challenge that all the countries hit by Canada-style protests will have to meet.

One sign of its complexity, and the array of tools likely to be needed, has come from New Zealand in the form of a poster campaign launched by Mr. Hunt’s Human Rights Commission in response to record numbers of complaints about anti-social online behavior.

He had no illusions about being able to change the tone singlehandedly. “These things are complicated, and they require multi-dimensional responses,” he said. But he sensed one key was to connect on a human level with people clearly “stressed and angry.”

“Dial it down a notch,” said one of the posters. Another urged people to “read it” before posting a message on social media.

And a third asked a simple question: “What would your mother say?”

With inflation at a 40-year high and no quick end in sight, companies in the United States are adjusting to a new normal. Many are passing along higher prices to customers, rethinking products and services, and negotiating with suppliers, while upping their salaries in a tight labor market.

For nonprofits that face the same inflationary pressures, that adjustment is much harder. Unlike for-profit businesses, they can’t simply raise prices or switch out unprofitable product lines. And labor shortages are increasingly forcing them to compete with private employers to hire and retain staff.

“McDonald’s can charge an extra nickel for their fries,” says Isaac Seliger, a Phoenix-based consultant who assists nonprofits with grant applications. For his clients, “the revenues don’t go up. But the costs go up.”

Tax-exempt nonprofits provide a myriad of services, from early education to home health care, and contribute a significant share of economic output. The pandemic drove up demand for their services, even before prices began to spiral upward, squeezing budgets in ways that many nonprofit executives say are making it hard to keep pace with rising costs, particularly for social services tied to fixed state and federal reimbursement rates.

Across the country, some nonprofits are scaling back or opting not to expand in-demand services because of staffing shortages and other cost pressures, which could further exacerbate the yawning socioeconomic divides that the pandemic exposed.

For Habitat for Humanity International, which builds affordable housing around the world, the biggest inflationary pressure in the U.S. is on land prices, says chief executive Jonathan Reckford. Land is by far the largest single cost for homebuilders.

Lumber and other materials are also in short supply, though a recent U.S. decision to roll back tariffs on Canadian softwood imports could help, he notes. Then there are shortages of skilled labor, from plumbers to electricians to drywall and roof installers. “All of the key inputs are going in the wrong direction for us,” he says.  

The net result of all these higher costs is that Habitat is building fewer new American homes at a time of acute housing insecurity, to the frustration of Mr. Reckford, who has led the Atlanta-based nonprofit since 2005. 

Habitat’s home completions in the U.S. have fallen by 15% since 2019. In the year to June 30, 2021, the organization built 3,276 new homes, down from 3,841 in the same period in 2018-19.

“In historically affordable markets like Atlanta or Nashville or Dallas or Charlotte, where we could build lots and lots of houses relatively affordably, we have seen extraordinary inflation in pricing in those markets. And that obviously pushes more and more families’ housing needs out of reach,” he says.

Given higher land prices, Habitat has pivoted to upgrades on existing properties for low- and moderate-income residents. “We’re seeing growth in repairs and renovations, where we’re making housing safer or more sustainable for families,” says Mr. Reckford.

Still, there’s no solution to affordability without expanding the stock of available homes to meet demand. “Housing is a big driver of why inflation is going so hard right now. If we could increase the supply of housing, that would actually moderate inflation,” he says. Instead, the U.S. housing market has been ignited by rock-bottom mortgages and federal stimulus checks. 

Inflationary pressures beyond housing

COVID-19 relief dollars have filled gaps in state budgets that nonprofits rely on to pay for social services, such as behavioral health counseling and after-school programs. But nonprofit executives know that the federal spigot won’t stay open forever. And they also face the challenge of how to budget for periods of high inflation and labor shortages. 

Mr. Seliger recalls the challenge of running a nonprofit in California in the late 1970s when grant proposals had to scale up budgets annually in anticipation of higher costs. Without this adjustment, multiyear grants lose their buying power, making it impossible to deliver services.

“They have no way of increasing their revenues as costs rise. They’re tied to fixed grants or service fees,” he says. 

In some cases, state governments close the gap: Massachusetts recently raised its reimbursement rate for food, says Valerie Frias, chief executive of Ethos, a nonprofit that provides at-home meals and care to thousands of older adults and residents with disabilities in Boston.

That helps Ethos cover higher prices from its suppliers. Meat prices are up. Fresh produce costs more. “These are staples in the meals that we do,” she says, noting that meals must be both nutritious and culturally appropriate for a diverse community.

Faced with higher costs, member-based nonprofits like Audubon societies and the National Rifle Association have the option of raising dues. Some nonprofits have endowments they can tap in emergencies, though most don’t have this flexibility.

Courtesy of Cradles to Crayons

Cradles to Crayons volunteers and staff pack school supply kits at The Giving Factory in Boston in preparation for the first day of school. When schools closed in 2020, demand spiked for diapers and school supplies, says Lynn Margherio, who runs the nonprofit.

When schools closed in 2020, demand spiked for diapers and school supplies, says Lynn Margherio, who runs Cradles to Crayons, a nonprofit that provides essential items for low-income children in Boston, Chicago, and Philadelphia. That led to a scramble to deliver more than 1 million packages to families, a huge increase from previous years. The Boston-based organization relies on individual and corporate donors. “Our community of supporters really stepped up when we needed them,” she says via email.

Inflation adds another wrinkle: Clothes and shoes now cost more. The average family already spends $740 a year on clothing per child, and inflation adds another $45, which is “more than the average cost of a winter coat or boots,” says Ms. Margherio.

That winter coat is even more essential this year, since schools in cities like Boston are keeping windows open to prevent viral spread, says Ms. Margherio, who founded Cradles to Crayons in 2002.

Staffing: An uneven playing field

Perhaps the biggest challenge for nonprofits, small and large, is staffing. Many can’t compete on wages with private employers, particularly for lower-paid positions. Amazon warehouse jobs now start at $18 an hour. Costco offers $17 an hour to new recruits.

Another factor is the expansion of remote work, says Ms. Frias, who is trying to hire more case workers and meal supervisors. Some nonprofit staffers with young kids prefer to work from home, both as a way to keep down childcare expenses and to take a break from the frontline stress of social services. 

She can understand why. “This is a community that’s been devastated by the pandemic. To be [working] in that community, day in day out, takes a toll,” she says.

Gary Linnen runs the Washington, D.C.-based nonprofit Peer Forward, which trains low-income teenagers to help their peers prepare for college. After two years of pandemic disruption and school closures, which led to a sharp drop in college applications from disadvantaged communities, he’s now trying to budget for the next few years and bracing for cutbacks.

Peer Forward contracts with high schools and colleges to provide services, but much of its funding is philanthropic. Rising costs mean that it can’t serve everyone, says Mr. Linnen, who became chief executive in May 2020. “The challenge is that individuals that get affected are in the smaller communities who need it the most.” 

Tight budgets make it harder to compete with other employers: Peer Forward recently posted two full-time jobs, and got two applications. “Normally I’d get 30 or 40 applicants for these jobs,” he says.

Mr. Linnen also needs to retain his current workforce of 20, who all work remotely. He paid everyone a $1,200 Christmas bonus and tries to keep tabs on how staff are feeling. The bonuses are appreciated, he says, but they only take you so far in a competitive job market. “We have young staff, and they have counterparts who are making more money,” he says. 

For some nonprofit staff, the mission is more important than the salary, says Mr. Seliger. But 9 times out of 10, “it’s a job. They will leave and go work for Costco” for higher pay, he says.

Habitat, which describes itself as a Christian housing ministry, may be unusual in that regard. “The majority of our folks could make more if they work somewhere else,” says Mr. Reckford. For some lower-paid workers, though, it’s getting harder to choose mission over money.

“The larger the gap, the more pressure that creates,” he says, “because we have people who want to be with Habitat for the mission. But their costs are going up.”

In a gym tucked away from the buzz of busy Paris in the suburb of Antony, a handful of young girls in leotards and leggings leap through the air, spinning clubs, balls, and colorful ribbons. Among them is Peterson Ceus.  

His sturdy, athletic build doesn’t make him a natural for the sport of rhythmic gymnastics – which often prefers a long, balletic body – and yet his dynamism has made him one of France’s most promising stars in the sport. He’s also one of the few men.  

But if he has any say in the matter, that’s going to change. Mr. Ceus is single-handedly moving the discussion forward about allowing men to participate in the sport of rhythmic gymnastics in France, which only recognizes women at an elite level. 

“I’ve become very used to being the only guy in competitions, but things are starting to change,” says Mr. Ceus, who competes at a national level. “If the French Gymnastics Federation can show that it’s possible for men to compete, then it will encourage more to join the sport.” 

His efforts so far have been rejected; entrenched attitudes at the administrative level have created a competitive ceiling that discourages many boys. Mr. Ceus has written to the French Gymnastics Federation (FFGym) about the matter, and in 2018 created a nonprofit to bring gender equality to the sport. 

In October, he brought his case to the Council of State, France’s highest administrative court, which also refused to recognize men in high-level competition, stating that the lack of a men’s category was neither discriminatory nor a violation of his rights.  

Nevertheless, on weekends, between his busy training schedule and newfound activism, he coaches a class of elementary school-age boys, in hopes that his fight is not only about him – that a fresh generation of male rhythmic gymnasts can one day pursue their own dreams. 

“The sport of rhythmic gymnastics is extremely feminized, and in order to have a real discussion about [gender], it’s going to take someone with enormous technical performance as well as charisma,” says David Lortholary, an independent French sports journalist who has covered rhythmic gymnastics for over 10 years and managed Gymnast Magazine for five.

“I see a lot in common with synchronized swimming, which was very feminized and now includes mixed events for men and women. So it’s possible, but we’ll need patience for it to happen.”

Finding his sport

Mr. Ceus was athletic growing up – doing horseback riding, circus training, rock climbing, and dance. But when he was 10 years old, he went for a physical aptitude test for rhythmic gymnastics at a club in the Paris suburb of Cergy. He had discovered the sport by watching a YouTube video of a Russian gymnast named Marina Shpekht.

Colette Davidson

Peterson Ceus has been trying through the French courts and French gymnastics’ governing body to have men recognized at elite competitions. His efforts, so far, have been rejected.

“When I first met him, he was this little boy who ran everywhere,” says Brenda Njitchoua, a coach at the Antony club and the first person to test Mr. Ceus in the sport. “I told him, ‘This is usually a girls’ sport. You might get teased.’ But he said, ‘I don’t care.’ He already knew that he wanted to do it.” 

Ms. Njitchoua, who grew up next door to Mr. Ceus, says she talked with his family to make sure it was on board. “We came from a rough neighborhood, where you can get insulted or beat up [for not conforming to social norms],” she says. “I wondered, would stereotypes destroy him? But it all passed over his head.” 

Now Mr. Ceus splits his time between two clubs in the Paris area, training largely autonomously since finishing his master’s degree in sports management. His coaches, Olivia de Ponte Ramboux and Mauricio Léon, are based in Tenerife in the Canary Islands, and he travels there regularly for more focused instruction.  

Mr. Ceus is allowed to compete during women’s competitions, but only up to a national level. Part of his fight with the FFGym is for admittance into elite level competitions. In 2018, Mr. Ceus wrote the governing body a letter requesting more equality in rhythmic gymnastics, but was told that there weren’t enough men participating in the sport to create a men’s category; 385 men are registered rhythmic gymnasts in France today, up from 50 five years ago.

“All you need for a podium is three people,” says Mr. Ceus. “I still find it very strange that France doesn’t accept men in the sport yet. We’re always talking about gender equality here in terms of equality for women. But this is the same issue.”  

Mr. Ceus can find reward for his hard work in Spain, the only country to recognize men in elite competition. In 2020, he became a champion in the men’s category in Spain, and has won medals in nonofficial competitions: gold in 2019 at the AmsterdaMMasters international tournament as well as at the Aubagne international tournament in 2013. He has also won several local competitions. 

His female teammates say they don’t see a problem with him or other young men competing against them – they welcome it. 

“I often hear stereotypes about men competing. It’s very hard for them to find their place in this sport,” says Celia Sellin, who competes at a national level and has trained alongside Mr. Ceus for seven years. “It’s very hard to judge men and women in the same way. Women are traditionally more flexible, elegant, while men have more muscle strength and force. You can’t compare them. There should be two separate categories in competition.”

Next-gen gymnasts  

On the first Saturday after winter break, Mr. Ceus is back on the mat at the Antony gym. But this time, he’s standing at one end of the floor while three young boys stand across from him. Mr. Ceus instructs them to aim well and throw their red ropes over his shoulder, then run across the mat to grab them. They take the opportunity to leap and bound as they go.  

This blend of circus, gymnastics, and dance is the reason Damien Danel, age 11, loves rhythmic gymnastics. He takes classes at another club and has been attending Mr. Ceus’ all-boys class since it began in September. 

“Peterson is so strong and he’s really nice. We drive 20 minutes to come to his class,” says Damien, dressed in loose black shorts and a T-shirt, black-rimmed glasses pressed against the bridge of his nose. “The fact that there’s a special class for boys shows that this sport is not just for girls.” 

Damien’s parents say they’ve always encouraged him to pursue his love for rhythmic gymnastics and are proud to support Mr. Ceus’ cause. They have another son, who participates in other sports and has not encountered the same friction. The couple have always embraced their differences.   

“When Damien was 6, he asked me, ‘Why can girls be tomboys but not the opposite? Why am I strange?’” says his mother, Diane Danel, after practice. “We told him, ‘You’re not strange. You just like other things.’ We’ve always encouraged him to do what he loves.” 

As Mr. Ceus looks to the future, he dreams of men being allowed to compete in rhythmic gymnastics at the Olympics. At age 23, he recognizes that his time in the sport is limited, but that doesn’t mean his pursuit of equality for future generations is over. He’s planning another appeal to the FFGym. If he can get France on board, it could push other countries to follow.  

“I’m sure things will evolve and that we’ll get there,” says Mr. Ceus. “People are smart enough to see that this discussion is happening and translate it into concrete action. It’s just a question of time.”

REUTERS/Dado Ruvic/Illustration

Figurines with computers and smartphones are seen in this illustration with binary codes and the Russian flag.

According to officials in Ukraine, a large-scale attack on their country has already begun – only it is not a land invasion by Russia. On Feb. 15, the country experienced a cyberoffensive on the military and two banks that was the largest denial-of-service attack in Ukraine’s history. Yet just as noteworthy was how swiftly those vital institutions recovered – and how officials calmly told the public the real purpose of the attack.

“It is clear,” said Mykhailo Fedorov, minister of digital transformation in a televised briefing, “that ... the key goal of this attack is to destabilize, sow panic, do everything so that a certain chaos arises in our country.”

Preventing fear has become central to Ukraine’s strategy against Russia since early last year when the frequency of cyberattacks began to escalate. “The No. 1 task for Russia is to undermine us from inside,” Oleksiy Danilov, national security adviser to President Volodymyr Zelenskyy, told The Wall Street Journal.

Last month, President Zelenskyy called on President Joe Biden and other Western leaders to be careful about creating panic in Ukraine with their warnings about Russian troops amassed on the border. Russia, in other words, could achieve its goal of destabilizing Ukraine’s economy and government without a hot war.

Or as Mr. Zelenskyy told Ukrainians in an address: “It is not our land that is being actively attacked, but your nerves. So that you have a constant sense of anxiety. And also the emotions of investors and the business environment.”

Since Russia took Crimea in 2014 and backed an armed rebellion in Ukraine’s eastern region, the country has prepared itself for cyberattacks with the help of many countries in NATO. In the city of Lviv, for example, engineers have found ways to deliver drinking water without electricity, according to The Globe and Mail, and the city has generators that can run for months.

“Resilience is a trait Ukrainians have developed over the past seven years in the face of Russia’s overt and covert aggression,” according to the France 24 television network.

Russia’s war against Ukraine is not only soldiers and weapons, said Ukrainian Prime Minister Denys Shmyhal in a Facebook post. “It has many dimensions: the gas crisis in Europe, the destabilization of the hryvnia exchange rate, cyber-attacks, mass bomb hoaxes at infrastructure facilities, paid rallies, and pseudo-rallies. All these are elements of a hybrid war. And the most dangerous of them is disinformation and the fueling of panic.”

In a world where digital information travels quickly, said the prime minister, “panic sentiments are a gift to the enemy. Panic destroys states better than tanks and assault rifles.”

The government’s calls for calm appear to be working. Journalists report many Ukrainians going about their business while still quietly preparing for any sort of attack by Russia. For now, Moscow is losing on the mental war front. The only reason to panic, said President Zelenskyy in an echo of a famous quote by Franklin Roosevelt about fearing fear itself, could be if Ukrainians succumb to panic.