Consider it a lesson in civic engagement.

On an overcast morning in late April, a small group of students gathers outside Vergennes Union High School. They wave signs reading “We are Vermont’s future” and “Vote yes! It’s for the best.” When passing motorists honk, a chorus of hoots follows. 

Two failed school budget proposals, layoff notices sent to staff, and potential program cuts have brought them here. Most students can’t vote, nor do they pay property taxes. Yet the complex – and contentious – world of school finance policy is suddenly hitting closer to home.

If the Addison Northwest School District’s third proposed budget for the upcoming fiscal year fails to garner community members’ approval, what will happen to their teachers? Or to band and foreign language programs?

“As I’m thinking about applying to colleges, it’s really scary to think I might not have these opportunities,” says Quincy Sabick, a sophomore who serves as a nonvoting student representative on the school board.

In U.S. school systems, springtime brings more than just standardized testing and graduations. It’s also when leaders craft and seek approval for district budgets, which can range from the low millions to several billion dollars. This year it has been messy. 

From small New England towns to sprawling Western cities, school districts are grappling with a financial reckoning caused by what some describe as a perfect storm. Sluggish birth rates and shifts toward other education settings have led to declining enrollment in public schools. The federal government’s robust pandemic aid package is expiring later this year. And inflation has saddled districts with higher costs for everything from classroom supplies to employee health care.

Riley Robinson/Staff

First graders practice their math April 29, 2024, at Robinson Elementary School in Starksboro, Vermont. The entire first grade is made up of eight students.

“We’re about to enter another period where we’re going to be reimagining education again because of cuts and the losses that we’re about to see,” says Qubilah Huddleston, policy lead on equitable school funding for The Education Trust.

As the saying goes, necessity often breeds ingenuity. When it comes to balancing school budgets, tough decisions – however forward-thinking they may be – impact the very people schools serve.

Lay off teachers? Classroom sizes swell. Cut transportation? Students risk longer walks. Close an entire school? Communities lose a central hub.

It’s a tightrope walk that people like Sheila Soule, superintendent of Addison Northwest School District, find themselves navigating. Even the most transparent decision-making, she says, tends to arouse suspicion. She worries about the long-term ramifications for public education as a valued good.

“There’s just this general sort of mistrust,” she says. “And I don’t know quite how to remedy that.”

Deficits of $40 million, $100 million – and more

Nearly 100,000 public schools exist across the United States – some no bigger than one room, others the size of suburban malls. Many sit in the neighborhoods they serve, tucked among apartments, houses, parks, and storefronts. They’re often a community gathering spot, whether for art fairs, choir concerts, football or basketball games, or nonschool events on campus.

Schools also act as a common denominator. Many adults went to public school and today have a child or grandchild attending one. These connections yield strong emotions and opinions. In recent years, these have bubbled over regarding how history is taught, what books can line library shelves, and what rights LGBTQ+ students can have.

The latest tension point revolves around money. The numbers coming out of school board rooms over the past few months have painted a grim picture.

Riley Robinson/Staff

Superintendent Amy Rex works with a student who is learning to read a clock, at Milton Elementary School in Vermont.

In the Twin Cities in Minnesota, the school districts serving St. Paul and Minneapolis projected budget deficits totaling $107 million and $110 million, respectively. The Fort Worth, Texas, school district declared a $44 million budget gap. Up north, the Anchorage School District in Alaska pegged its shortfall at $98 million. And in Cleveland, the deficit stood at $143 million.

Widespread closures – once unthinkable – are being considered from coast to coast. In Seattle, the school board has proposed closing 20 elementary schools – roughly a quarter. Boston, which has in the past decade lost 8,000 students (about 13%), released a plan in January that could have closed as many as half of its 119 buildings. This spring, the district pivoted, and the last stand-alone middle school is the only closure proposed. Two others that share a campus would officially consolidate.

On one hand, underenrolled schools may not be able to provide enough academic offerings to students. But experts raise equity concerns if closures disproportionately affect students of color or low-income communities, especially if they don’t have access to other high-performing schools.

Almost inevitably, these difficult decisions trigger, at the very least, raised eyebrows and defensiveness.

“It’s sort of the playbook, when a district says we’re going to make X-Y-Z hard decision, the answer is, ‘Oh yeah, you aren’t very good at the numbers,’” says Marguerite Roza, director of the Edunomics Lab at Georgetown University. She would rather districts seek more community buy-in by saying, “‘We have some choices to make ... and we want your input.’”

In Wichita, Kansas, leaders of the urban district framed a difficult decision as a choice between people or places. They announced in January a $42 million deficit, which they say stemmed from enrollment declines, facility maintenance needs, and expiring pandemic federal aid. The last one helped plug a budget hole the prior year.

The district’s student count had dropped 8% over the past seven years, according to data from the Kansas State Department of Education. With no rebound visible on the horizon, that means fewer per-pupil dollars from the state flowing into the district coffers.

Jackie Valley/The Christian Science Monitor

“We want to be the district of choice. What does it look like to be an innovative, future-ready school district?” – Kelly Bielefeld, superintendent of Wichita Public Schools, where budget and enrollment woes have prompted school closures

To help overcome the multimillion-dollar budget gap, leaders proposed closing six schools, rather than laying off teachers and staff or dipping into reserve funds. The displaced students and staff would find homes in other schools. The district, meanwhile, could keep mental health supports added during the pandemic.

Superintendent Kelly Bielefeld, who took the reins of Wichita Public Schools last summer, says the district prioritized people based on feedback from the field. But that doesn’t mean everyone is satisfied with the decisions.

“We’re being told, ‘Trust us,’ and it’s hard to trust when you’re being presented that we are in this position, seemingly out of nowhere, where we’re $42 million short,” says Mike Harris, vice president of the local teachers union, United Teachers of Wichita. “Why do we not have time to discuss other options?”

In February, seventh grader Tirriannah Issa confidently strides toward a podium at a public hearing. Her mother has spoken earlier in the evening along with other parents. They expressed concern about disruptions their children would face acclimating to a new school, longer walks in high-crime neighborhoods, and empty school buildings adding to the blight.

Now, it is Tirriannah’s turn. She rattles off reasons closing Jardine STEM and Career Explorations Academy would hurt her: Fractured relationships with friends and teachers. Transportation hurdles to a new school. Loss of extracurricular activities.

“I know that I’m not an adult, but I hope you all take my opinion into consideration before making this decision,” she pleads.

Four days later, the Wichita school board votes to close her school and five others. 

Jackie Valley/The Christian Science Monitor

“I know that I’m not an adult, but I hope you all take my opinion into consideration before making this decision.” – Tirriannah Issa (with her mom, Kashemah Ford), in testimony before the Wichita school board voted to close her school

Pam Dawson, a social studies teacher at Jardine, once thought she would retire there. But she harbors more concern for her students, who call her “Mama D.”

Many of the neighborhood children come from low-income families, she says. When Jardine lets out for the day, they walk to a nearby elementary school to pick up younger siblings. The closure may disrupt that sibling care arrangement, she says, depending on where the older children end up being placed.

“They don’t have the ability to move and put them in a different neighborhood,” Ms. Dawson says. “They really just are stuck doing whatever.”

Mr. Harris, the union leader, says he is eager to learn more about the strategic plan, but he wishes the vision could have been shared before the school-closing decision.

The public needs education about how school funding works at the federal, state, and local levels, he says. That would require more candid discourse from leaders.

“Politics is what gets in the way of that,” Mr. Harris says.

Mr. Bielefeld says he expected the board’s decision to be emotional, especially for the roughly 2,100 affected students and their families. He’s hoping smooth transitions – and displaced teachers filling vacancies at other schools – mend their concerns over time.

“If we can staff every school, that will build back trust, too,” he says. “There are schools that have gone two or three years without a science teacher.”

Riley Robinson/Staff

Students walk through the halls of Milton Elementary School. Vermont voters rejected nearly a third of proposed school budgets this spring.

Property tax hikes of up to 24%

In Vermont’s state capital, the board governing the Montpelier Roxbury Public Schools made a similar decision.

It started in early March with Town Meeting Day, a centuries-old tradition in which residents gather to vote on local issues and budgets. Voters rejected the Montpelier Roxbury Public Schools’ proposed budget for fiscal year 2025, which would have increased property taxes for Montpelier residents by 24%.

The failure, while unusual in Montpelier, wasn’t an anomaly. Voters rejected nearly one-third of school budgets in Vermont, signaling opposition to – or pure inability to pay – steeper property taxes. 

There were many causes for the budget increase, including declining enrollment, a new education funding formula, the winding down of federal pandemic aid, and inflationary pressures, such as a 16% increase in employee health insurance.

Put more simply, as Vermont’s residents age, there are fewer children. And with high housing costs and a lack of industries attracting families, school budgets are squeezing homeowners.

“If we want to keep that bucolic, historical nature that Vermont is known for and we all love about living here, then we have to pay for it,” says Libby Bonesteel, superintendent of Montpelier Roxbury Public Schools. “Right now, our communities are saying, ‘No, we don’t want to pay for that.’ And so that’s a tricky dilemma.”

Given those headwinds, the Montpelier Roxbury district’s board opted to close the Roxbury Village School, which serves roughly 40 students from kindergarten through fourth grade. The closure would trim roughly $1 million from the district budget. That reduction, along with others, would bring the property tax increase for Montpelier residents down to 14%. (On a $400,000 house, that would translate to an additional $700 annually.)

Riley Robinson/Staff

Craig Sullivan casts his ballot in a school budget revote in Roxbury, Vermont.

For residents in tiny Roxbury, a village in a rugged mountainous region, the decision felt like a betrayal. In 2017, Roxbury, which then operated its own district, merged with Montpelier – in part because of the bigger district’s good reputation, says Jon Guiffre, chair of the Roxbury Selectboard. 

Residents viewed the merger as an economic decision as much as an educational one. If families wanted a quieter pace of life but the benefits of the Montpelier district, they could move to Roxbury. Half a dozen families did so, he says, bringing children to the aging village.

Now, the fate of the white schoolhouse is unclear. So is the future of Roxbury itself, Mr. Guiffre says. Will people leave?

“When you don’t have people moving here, you can die a pretty slow death as a community,” he says, as residents head in to the community hall to vote on the district’s second proposed budget.

Across the street, Chris Rich and Danielle Dickinson attempt to wrangle their daughters, who are playing basketball and climbing a jungle gym outside Roxbury Village School. They say their younger daughter, Maddison, a third grader, started making friends and focusing more in the classroom this year.

Her parents don’t want to see those gains undone by a long bus ride or difficulty fitting in at a new school in Montpelier. 

As for Maddison, she identifies one emotion about her school closing: “Sad, because I’m going to miss this place.”

Riley Robinson/Staff

From left, Danielle Dickinson, Maddison Rich, Payton Rich, and Chris Rich pause for a photo during afternoon pickup outside Roxbury Village School in Roxbury, Vermont.

Schools asked to do more, with less money

Not all financially strapped school districts are opting for building closures. At least not yet.

Minneapolis Public Schools, for instance, has proposed a budget that resists closing schools but comes with other trade-offs: increasing class sizes, ending fifth grade instrumental music, and eliminating assistant principals at elementary schools, among other changes. A presentation in March noted that the district is using a “one-time bridge” from its unassigned fund balance to cover the gap.

As districts mull their options, the public’s perception of what schools spend versus what educators feel they need to provide could be a complicating factor. Nowadays, schools are providing more than textbooks and instruction. 

“We’ve certainly moved more into seeing public schools as places where we want to treat all the various needs that kids come into schools with,” says Michael Hansen, a senior fellow in the Brown Center on Education Policy at the Brookings Institution.

The Dragonfly and Monarch rooms at Milton Elementary School in Vermont are an example. Filled with yoga mats, art supplies, puzzles, and books, they’re spaces where children who are anxious, fidgety, or upset can come to regulate their emotions and then head back to class more able to focus. The rooms opened this year in response to the increasing number of students experiencing mental health or behavioral challenges. District leaders say too many students were “eloping” – their term for ditching class – and wandering the hallways.

“We have a lot of kiddos who are desperately in need,” says Shelby Haselman, a restorative practices coordinator who oversees the Dragonfly room. “We could have 100 kids enrolled in this room, I’m sure.”

Many states have made historic education investments in recent years, says Daniel Thatcher, a senior fellow for education at the National Conference of State Legislatures. But inflation chipped away at those gains, he says, given rising costs for expenses outside the classroom, such as health insurance, pensions, and transportation.

Riley Robinson/Staff

“When you don’t have people moving here, you can die a pretty slow death as a community.” – Jon Guiffre, Selectboard chair in Roxbury, Vermont, where the town’s elementary school serving about 40 children is slated to close

Even wages haven’t necessarily kept up with revenue increases. A new report by the Reason Foundation, a libertarian think tank, found that from 2002 to 2020, inflation-adjusted average teacher salaries fell slightly while education dollars increased.

During that same period, spending on pupil support services increased nearly 53%, including social work, counseling, medical care, dental screenings, and speech therapy. 

The report’s authors offered this warning: “Putting it all together – enrollment declines, learning loss, unsustainable budgets, union activism, curricular battles, and the rise of school choice – public education is clearly at a crossroads, and the decisions made today will shape generations to come.”

“Why put our family through that?”

So where does that leave school districts?

In Vermont, Patrick Reen sees only one path forward: infrastructure changes.

As superintendent of the Mount Abraham Unified School District, he has been eyeing this moment for years. Over the past three decades, enrollment peaked at 2,045 students in 1998. This past school year, the district’s student count dropped to a low of 1,155. 

Riley Robinson/Staff

Students play at recess April 29, 2024, at Robinson Elementary School.

At Robinson Elementary School, a first grade class roster includes eight students – seven girls and one boy. Down the hall, a merged third- and fourth-grade class serves 25 students. As Mr. Reen pokes his head into the first grade classroom on a spring day, he sees plenty of elbow room during circle time. 

His visit occurs the same day he will meet with his school board and discuss next steps for the budget, which has failed twice this year. Several years ago, he proposed moving students from three schools into two others and then repurposing the empty buildings into project-based learning centers and a prekindergarten building. Community members, who in his district must vote to approve such changes, didn’t go for it. In fact, one town’s residents were so upset that they voted to withdraw altogether and form their own district.

The district forged ahead doing “the very best we can for our students with what we have,” Mr. Reen says. “But it has unintentionally masked the problem. The mask is off now. People are seeing the pain, and we’re feeling the pain.”

To make education more affordable and sustainable, he believes, the state must consider more school district mergers to cut down the number of administrative offices and underenrolled schools. His colleague, Ms. Soule from the neighboring Addison Northwest School District, agrees. At one point, the districts tried to merge, but voters defeated that proposal as well.

It’s unclear whether districts will receive any help from elected officials in the state capital. Coinciding with many district budgets up for a revote, the Vermont Senate rejected Gov. Phil Scott’s choice for education secretary – Zoie Saunders, whose career includes time as a charter school executive and public school administrator in Florida. There, public school closures are seen as a necessary result of expanded school choice.

Immediately after the vote, Republican Governor Scott turned around and appointed her as interim education secretary.

Vermont does not have charter schools. Ms. Soule says she worries districts’ ongoing budget woes could create an opening.

“It’ll be very easy for charter schools to look like a solution to many of those problems,” she says.

Riley Robinson/Staff

A car drives by Robinson Elementary School April 29, 2024, in Starksboro, Vermont.

Back in Wichita, the message being pushed by district leaders is one of reimagination. Since last year, the district has been working with consultants to craft a long-term vision for the largest school district in Kansas. 

Mr. Bielefeld, the superintendent, says the plan, expected by the end of June, will likely consist of options for renovating, rebuilding, or maintaining existing schools. Building consolidations may be on the table, too, he says. More community feedback will follow, but depending on the finalized plan, the community may need to approve a bond to fund it.

The yearslong effort is about meeting the needs of today’s students and families, he says. Think more magnet programs, more high schools offering college credit opportunities, and more flexible scheduling, among other possibilities.

“We want to be the district of choice,” the superintendent says. “What does it look like to be an innovative, future-ready school district?”

That may not be enough to persuade some families to stick around. Thomas Montiel has seven children, including five who attended Cleaveland Traditional College and Career Readiness Magnet. The school, which sits in a working-class neighborhood filled with one-story homes, is among those that closed at the end of this school year. 

Mr. Montiel opposes the decision for personal and practical reasons. When he was diagnosed with cancer a few years ago, the elementary school’s staff became a “different kind of family” for his children, he says. On the financial front, he thinks the district could have explored other ways to lower expenses and increase revenue.

Soon after the board’s decision, he says his family is considering education options outside Wichita Public Schools.

“Why put our family through that more than one time?” he asks.

Riley Robinson/Staff

A sign outside Vergennes Union High School urges people to vote on the district’s third attempt to approve a budget, April 29, 2024.

Will voters pay for sports and music?

In Vergennes, Vermont, after students put away their posters and head into class, the waiting game begins. It’s voting day for the Addison Northwest School District’s third proposed budget.

Since the first failed vote in March, leaders of the 868-student district cut roughly $1.7 million from the proposed budget. In this latest version, property tax increases for residents would range from 9.6% to 18%, depending on the town. On the high end, that means one town’s property owners could be paying an additional $318 per every $100,000 of assessed value.

Jeanne Kelly, a retiree who lives in Ferrisburgh, would be among the property owners hit with a high tax increase. She attended an informational meeting about the budget the night before voting. A larger tax bill won’t solely determine how she casts her ballot, she says, but she notes concern. “It’s a good chunk,” she says of the money. “It’s something I hadn’t planned on.”

That’s why Ms. Soule nervously awaits voting results that evening inside the district’s central office. She understands residents feel their pocketbooks are stretched thin. But she also wants to retract reduction-in-force letters she sent out to select staff members. Per contract agreements, she had to plan for the worst-case scenario and give layoff notices by a certain date.

If this third budget fails, transportation, sports, and music programs could be on the chopping block.

Less than two hours after voting ended, Ms. Soule hurries into her office. She draws up one of two emails she prepared to deliver the results to her community. 

“I am thrilled to report that our third attempt at passing the FY25 budget was successful!” the email says. “The official results are 1346 Yes, 932 No, and 3 void.”

She lets out a long sigh, smiles broadly, and hits send. 

“Oh, what a relief,” she says, as she grabs her purse and heads home.

Starting June 6, citizens of the European Union will cast votes in elections for the European Parliament – the bloc’s legislative body – which are held once every five years. 

More than 400 million people will be eligible to vote for the 720 seats that are up for grabs. Germany and France have the most seats at stake, with 96 and 81 respectively. Malta, Luxembourg, and Cyprus have the least, at six seats each.

Compared with national elections in Europe, EU parliamentary elections often are viewed as a sideshow, as public turnout drops radically and fringe parties benefit from protest voting. But the Parliament, and thus the process to select its members, is hugely important to the bloc’s economic policymaking.

Just what is the European Parliament, and what can it do?

The European Parliament is the directly elected legislature of the 27 EU member states, including Germany, France, and Italy.

The Parliament cannot directly initiate new laws, but it does set the EU budget and decide how money will be spent. Thus, it can determine whether EU money goes to Ukraine, declare blocwide carbon emission regulations, and set zero-emissions targets. It also elects the president of the European Commission, the EU’s executive body.

In a number of ways, the EU Parliament holds significant power over member states. For example, Germany cannot decide to enter a trade agreement with Mexico, or impose tariffs on Chinese electric vehicles, or subsidize its solar industry, without explicit agreement by this body.

“It’s wrong to characterize the European Parliament as a toothless, irrelevant body. It’s absolutely not,” says Jacob Kirkegaard, a political economist and senior fellow at the German Marshall Fund. “It has a very direct say in literally hundreds of billions of euros being spent or not spent every year.”

This power is both restrictive and generous. Because the EU as a whole is an economy roughly the size of the United States, “that gives individual member states bigger weight internationally, especially Germany,” says Dr. Kirkegaard. “It’s always this trade-off that you are constrained by the EU on some things, but you enable on other issues.” 

Not that it’s easy to get voters to care. Turnout in 2019, the last time EU parliamentary elections were held, was only about 50%. Meanwhile, national elections of EU member states can draw participation of more than 80%, says Dr. Kirkegaard. (In comparison, the 2020 U.S. presidential election and the 2022 U.S. congressional elections saw turnouts of 66% and 46% respectively.)

How do Europeans typically decide how to vote in the EU parliamentary elections?

When they do turn out, they typically are agnostic about EU-wide issues and instead cast votes based on what’s important in their countries. For example, voters in Germany, France, and Spain are generally expected to cast ballots as a referendum on their leadership. In Finland, the threat of Russia just over the border is top of mind, while in Croatia and Ireland, cost-of-living issues reign supreme. 

“We are living in times of crisis, which is unsettling people because they are losing their hope for the future,” says Ursula Münch, a political scientist and current director of the independent think tank Academy for Political Education in Bavaria. “This makes many people angry, and this anger is directed at politicians.”

Who stands to benefit from those protest votes?

The primary expected beneficiaries are parties on the far right, which are resurgent in Italy, France, and nearly every other country.

The EU was created after World War II to strengthen social, economic, and political bonds among countries that had been frequently engaged in bloody conflict. Nearly by definition, the bloc stands for unity. But the far right across Europe has risen largely on EU skepticism, as well as on antimigration, nationalistic platforms.

“It’s a difficult era” for the EU, says Milan Nič, a fellow and expert on Eastern Europe at the German Council on Foreign Relations. “It’s a moment of much more fragmentation in European politics, so it is more difficult to put together some coalition. Also Europe is [being] confronted a bit more by more hostility, international competition, China, technology, all these things.”

In the last election cycle, far-right members took 17% of seats. They are forecast to possibly take 25% or more this time, shifting Parliament even further rightward. With a number of important issues – from Ukraine and mass migration to climate change and trade with China – on the table in upcoming years, such a shift would increasingly complicate the EU’s ability to move with unity.

Hungary’s conservatives, for example, have consistently opposed sending weapons to Ukraine and banning Russian energy imports. Their voices could grow louder. And notably, France’s Marine Le Pen and her National Rally party will have several dozen parliamentarians, giving them greater power than the entirety of Slovakia’s 15-member contingent.

How unified are Europe’s far-right parties?

Not as unified as they might seem.

For European members of Parliament to be effective at the bloc level, they must find like-minded politicians from across the Continent to ally with. They do that by joining EU-wide parties that align with their political affiliations back home.

The EU far-right group, known as Identity and Democracy, has seen some turmoil lately among the parties representing Europe’s largest states. Ms. Le Pen, for example, recently publicly criticized Giorgia Meloni, Italy’s far-right prime minister, for her support of NATO – an unpopular position among Identity and Democracy members. And Identity and Democracy kicked out Alternative for Germany after one of the German party’s leaders appeared to suggest that not all members of the Nazi Party’s Waffen-SS were criminals.

Still, the Identity and Democracy group may end up being a kingmaker. Ursula von der Leyen, the current European Commission president – who comes from the center-right grouping – has made it clear she wants a second term. As a clear majority may not emerge from the typical center-right, center-left, and liberal parliamentarian groups, Ms. von der Leyen has left the door open to work with Identity and Democracy if necessary.

That could throw more power to the right and result in policy changes in line with its political goals: for example, movement away from environmental reform and toward issues of national security and agriculture.

Ghada Abdulfattah

Displaced Palestinians seek safety on the beach in what was a coastal retreat but is now a tent city of last resort, in Al-Mawasi, southern Gaza Strip, June 2, 2024.

For years a rare seaside escape for Palestinians blocked by an Israeli siege, now a sweltering sea of tents, Gaza’s Al-Mawasi coast has become unrecognizable.

Only eight months ago, Palestinians held picnics on Al-Mawasi’s pristine sandy beach or went for romantic walks to watch the sun set over the Mediterranean.

Now garbage is piling up, open sewage flows, and makeshift nylon and canvas tents are packed so densely that it is difficult to see the ocean beyond.

Impoverished and displaced, hawkers shout out their wares for sale: pots, pans, utensils, clothes, and old shoes salvaged from the rubble of Rafah and Khan Yunis. Weary mothers hurry to the shore with buckets to fetch water to bathe their children.

Residents of Gaza who were pushed into this former dream destination against their will say it has become a living nightmare.

Al-Mawasi is a strip of sand dunes and citrus farms 8.7 miles long and a little over half a mile wide. Declared a “safe zone” by Israel, it has emerged as a tent city of last resort for Gaza’s displaced people, now home to an estimated 700,000 to 900,000 Palestinians seeking to escape Israel’s military offensive in the south.

An area constituting some 3% of the densely settled Gaza Strip’s 141 square miles, it now holds more than one-third of Gaza’s population of 2.2 million people.

“We used to come to a recreational resort,” says Omar Hajjar, who, along with his six children, used to view Al-Mawasi as an idyllic getaway. “We would bring a pot of tea, coffee, a chicken to grill or ready-made food and enjoy quality time with family and friends.”

Ghada Abdulfattah

Omar Hajjar says he had avoided coming to the designated safe area after hearing from friends and relatives of its dire conditions and crowding, in Al-Mawasi, Gaza Strip, June 2, 2024.

Driven to the strip of coast May 28 after an Israeli strike in Rafah killed dozens of already displaced Palestinians, Mr. Hajjar was shocked at what his family found.

“It’s polluted; it’s crowded. The conditions are unsanitary,” Mr. Hajjar says as he navigates a narrow sandy ally between tents of canvas and nylon. “This is no way for anyone to live or raise a family.”

He, like others now in Al-Mawasi, had avoided coming to the area after hearing from friends and relatives of its dire conditions and crowding.

“I used to come here for tourism, but I never expected to live here,” Mr. Hajjar says.

Childhood memories

Al-Mawasi, an old Palestinian Bedouin fishing village, was once an enclave hemmed in by Israeli settlements on Gaza’s southern coast.

Since Israel’s unilateral withdrawal from Gaza 19 years ago, landowners returned to this prized beachfront area and agricultural lands, while Hamas rented out remaining land plots for tourism and farming projects.

Fathy Abu Sabha, whose family has called Al-Mawasi home since being displaced from Khan Yunis in January, had strong ties to the area.

As a 12-year-old, he would come with his uncle, who worked as a farmhand on area farms and tended to the lush orange, lemon, and date trees.

Ghada Abdulfattah

Children play on a rare patch of open beach in Al-Mawasi, Gaza Strip, June 2, 2024.

“We used to run on the beach barefoot; the beach was so clean. We would fly massive kites with bamboo sticks woven together,” Mr. Abu Sabha says. “The wind was so strong it would lift the kites high into the sky.”

Now, the only fluttering is the sound of nylon tent flaps.

Mr. Abu Sabha’s wife, Fatema Jaber, was a professed “beach lover” who would spend at least five days a week down by the water. The ocean then offered a rare escape and a free open expanse – a dramatic break from the cramped refugee camp they called home prior to the war.

Hemmed in by Israeli airstrikes, she says this same beach today has the feeling of a barren prison.  

“We’d all go to the sea to feel relief, to walk on the sand and dip our feet into the ocean,” Ms. Jaber reminisces. “Now I hate sand. It is everywhere – in our tents, in our clothes.”

“My husband and I used to come here during our engagement period when we wanted to have fun,” Ms. Jaber says. “Now I see flies and insects; my children are getting infections and skin diseases. It is not safe here.”

She shakes her head, saying, “Now I hate this place. I actually hate any place that I’ve been displaced to.”

What Palestinians here all recall as a pristine beach is today full of visual pollution, foul smells, and the thundering sounds of airstrikes.

Ghada Abdulfattah

Fatema Jaber and her son stand in front of their tent in Al-Mawasi, June 2, 2024.

“There is no proper sanitation. We walk barefoot and have to jump over sewage water. Garbage is piled up everywhere,” Mr. Hajjar says.

There is no running water to the tent city, residents wait for hours to use the few public toilets, and with only a few hastily assembled field hospitals, international aid organizations warn that diseases like hepatitis A are spreading rapidly.

Precious water

As early summer temperatures soar above 90 degrees along the sunbaked beachfront, water has become a precious resource.

Residents desperately flag down water tankers being brought by aid agencies into the makeshift camp, but they say there is never enough.

“We have to ration water carefully, make every drop count,” Mr. Hajjar says. “It is just one more challenge we face here. We manage because we have to.”

On a scorching June day, children run and jump into the ocean and hop back out to cool down and stave off their feelings of thirst.

Mr. Hajjar sighs. “This is our reality now,” he says. “We make do as best as we can for the sake of our children. We hope things will improve soon.”

Mr. Abu Sabha believes that no matter when and how the conflict ends, Al-Mawasi, and memories of carefree days in Gaza, will be yet another casualty in the war.

“We no longer like this place because we have lived the worst days of our life here,” he says. “Everything has changed.”

Taylor Luck contributed to this report from Tunis, Tunisia.

Danni Grayson Photography

Author Michael Wear.

Michael Wear worked in the Obama White House, advising on faith-based initiatives as one of the administration’s youngest staffers. He is now the founder and CEO of the Center for Christianity and Public Life. In his book “The Spirit of Our Politics: Spiritual Formation and the Renovation of Public Life,” Mr. Wear calls for a change in Christian political discourse by defining the political arena as a place of service. He argues that sectarianism is not inevitable, and challenges thinkers of all religious backgrounds to let their political interactions be guided by a spirit of gentleness. He spoke recently with the Monitor. The interview has been edited for length.

What was the inspiration for the book?  

What became clear to me writing [my last] book, and with everything that was happening in the country, was the deep formational force that politics was having on the lives of individuals, communities, and our culture. I think there’s this idea that politics is downstream of culture. I think that misses the fact that politics is a culture producer – that especially in this time and context, you can’t separate out politics from our culture. So this book gets at the root, I think, of both the dysfunction of our politics, and hopefully a way of empowering the individual responsibility and role that citizens have in improving the state of our politics.

How does approaching politics with a spirit of service tangibly change our actions and conversations?

When we stop going to politics primarily as a source of entertainment, or as a forum for sort of solely personal expression, we free up space to go to politics in an others-centered way – in a way that centers the interests and well-being of the communities in which we live. And that opens up tremendous horizons. But what it requires are people who can genuinely will the good for their neighbors – that they can consider interests that are not their own to be their own.

Political sectarianism is a big topic in the book. What effect does political sectarianism have on trust? 

Political sectarianism has a profound effect on trust. Because it suggests not just that there’s antagonism and profound disagreement in our politics, but that our politics is operating on the logic of conflict and antagonism.  

The collapse of trust in government is not detached from, or removed from, rising social distrust outside of politics proper. The political sectarianism that expresses itself in statehouses and in the Capitol is expressing itself in churches, and in families, and in relationships. And so just as in individuals – there is no political you, there’s just you – there is no political America, and then the real America.

I think what we’re seeing is the fact that we can’t so easily set these parts off from ourselves. The state of the workplace in America is tied to the state of politics in America, is tied to the state of mediating institutions and church life, is tied to the state of the family – these things are not identical, but they all feed into one another. 

And we can’t hope to have a politics that is full of mistrust and antagonism, and not expect that to have effects for how we relate at the community level, the familial level, and between different groups and backgrounds of people.

You talk about anger and manipulation actually not paying off in the way we think they do. Can you say more about that?

There’s this notion that anger is the necessary companion to advancing justice. I’ve seen justice implemented without anger. Do you know what I’ve never seen? I’ve never seen injustice without anger. I’ve never seen injustice without contempt for the person. ... There’s this notion that if you’re not angry, you’re not paying attention, as if the most just response ... is just to continue to pile on and add to the anger in our hearts. But who is that helping? How is that the best that we could do in response to what we read in the newspapers? I think that there are much better things that we could build up in our hearts, including love. ... At best, anger can be an immediate reaction on behalf of someone who has been wronged, and I think that's a natural human impulse and is not wrong as far as it goes. But when we get to the cultivation of anger, what we find is that as we begin to cultivate anger, anger cultivates us. There is no one who is more easily manipulated in political life than the person who is angry. They can be directed just about anywhere.

What are practical steps that people can take in their everyday conversation and actions to rebuild that trust?

We need to regain a sense of deep humility about our political solutions, while having a deeper commitment to the work of self-governance – under the umbrella of humility, to be able to say “I’m going to fight for what I believe in.”

It’s OK to disagree. We have a political culture in which you can’t say anyone’s “wrong” about public policy, but you can say that they’re “evil.” And I think we need a political discourse that is much more willing to argue prudentially ... and much less willing to make categorical, sweeping judgments about people’s intentions, and the moral goodness of people, because of their political opinions. 

What gives you hope that the changes you describe in your book can be implemented – that it’s possible to have a better politics? 

I’m sure other people have had this experience, but come across a person who is truly joyful and it will change your life. Come across a person who’s converted anger to forgiveness, who’s converted hatred to mercy, and it will change your life. And it’s changed our politics before, and it can do it again. 

Our public life is filled with these kinds of people. I think, though, when you have a political culture that is oriented around entertainment and self-expression, then it can sometimes be hard to see those people and to recognize service in our politics when it shows up. But when you come across it, that’s when you think about, who counts as an admirable person in your life? Who counts as someone who inspires you? 

And when you start asking those questions, and then taking that into politics, you realize, maybe politics doesn’t have to operate by this sort of lowest common denominator, or this expectation of self-interest and corruption. Maybe, with the limited influence we each have as citizens, we can come to politics with a different expectation.

On June 6, 1944, Harry Kulkowitz had just pushed out onto Utah Beach with the 114th Signal Battalion when he found himself crouching behind a low hedge. When he heard murmuring, he assumed it was an enemy soldier and shot into the dark. The voice went silent.

It was only the next morning that Mr. Kulkowitz realized he had killed a cow.

As a vacation rental operator, British native Tansy Forster was sometimes privy to war stories like these. In 2004, Mr. Kulkowitz and his son Mark stayed in her Normandy home. They continued to come every year until Harry Kulkowitz’s death in 2017. But, Ms. Forster says, “most veterans didn’t want to talk about the war.”

For the 80th anniversary of the D-Day landings, Ms. Forster wanted to honor the experiences of people like Mr. Kulkowitz, as well as her uncle, who was killed in World War II. Her idea? Knitting woolly postbox toppers, popular in the United Kingdom, in the shape of soldiers and tanks.

“Then someone said, ‘Why don’t you do 80 for the 80th anniversary?’” says Ms. Forster, from the Notre-Dame Church in Carentan-les-Marais. “The idea just got bigger and bigger.”

Colette Davidson

Tansy Forster (right) got the idea for "The Longest Yarn" as a way to honor war veterans' stories, like those of Harry Kulkowitz. Harry and his son Mark (left) stayed with Ms. Forster every year from 2004 until Harry's death in 2017.

The result is 80 meters (88 yards) of 80 3D panels of knitted and crocheted scenes of the D-Day invasion. Ms. Forster enlisted over 1,000 knitters via Facebook from the U.K., the United States, Australia, and New Zealand to complete the 3D tapestry. It will be on display in the Normandy church before moving to Great Britain in September and, eventually, Cape May, New Jersey – home to Harry Kulkowitz’s son, Mark.

Called “The Longest Yarn,” a nod to the 1962 war film “The Longest Day,” the exhibit seeks to tell the stories that veterans either struggle with or are no longer alive to tell. The international effort – done entirely by volunteers – is a lesson in the power of community to build understanding.

“We need to continue commemorating D-Day, even fictionally. The important thing is to show the truth,” says Olivier Wieviorka, a French historian who specializes in World War II. “Sharing these moments with others, having a common history, is what truly brings us together as a nation.”

Where D-Day is never far away

More than 150,000 troops descended on the Normandy beaches on June 6, 1944, to liberate German-occupied Western Europe. The D-Day operation, which brought together land, sea, and air forces from the allied armies, is considered the largest seaborne invasion in military history. Over 10,000 soldiers perished.

While D-Day is, for many, relegated to history books, the events of June 6 are never far from residents of Carentan-les-Marais. A war-era parachute billows from the ceiling of a local café and American military uniforms, helmets, and other World War II memorabilia sell year-round in souvenir shops. In one store window sits a copy of Gen. Charles de Gaulle’s 1940 message to the French people: France may have lost a battle, but France hasn’t lost the war!

Colette Davidson

D-Day is ever-present in the Normandy town of Carentan-les-Marais, especially this year as it gets ready to commemorate the 80th anniversary. Here, flowers are laid at a war memorial in the town center, May 28, 2024.

Paulette Mesnilgrente was only 11 years old when U.S. soldiers helped liberate France from German control. Now in her 90s, she remembers people taking to the streets of her hometown, Houesville, waving flags in celebration.

“The soldiers would bring us gum and candy,” says Ms. Mesnilgrente. “To this day, I still have very fond memories of the Americans.”

Just before France’s liberation, someone snapped a photo of Ms. Mesnilgrente and her siblings with four American soldiers, which somehow made it back to her years later. Now, that moment in history is represented in panel No. 78 of “The Longest Yarn.”

Historical accuracy has been a significant part of the project, says Ms. Forster, who got help from a historian to verify military uniforms, colors, and insignia. But volunteer knitters did much of the research themselves.

“I never learned this stuff in school so I wanted to make things as accurate as possible,” says Jenny Shepperd, who traveled from Basingstoke, England, to see “The Longest Yarn” in person at the end of May. She and school friend Diana Peacock crocheted 55 soldiers, a military jeep, and a tank landing ship, and created a panel to honor Harry Kulkowitz. “As for the knitting, it was a lot of trial and error. I knew how to make sweaters, but not this!”

Ms. Shepperd leaned on her newfound virtual community to get tips on how to make the soldiers stand up straight or to share her own crocheting tricks. For knitters who lost family members in the war, the project has had a knock-on healing effect.

Knitting itself has documented therapeutic effects and can help heal trauma, says Dominique Kaehler Schweizer, also known as Madame Tricot (Mrs. Knitting), a Franco-Swiss psychiatrist and 3D knitting artist. “There is also something beautiful about participative projects and working with others. It’s good for your soul.”

Colette Davidson

British knitter Jenny Shepperd stands next to one of the three panels she created with longtime friend Diana Peacock, in Carentan-les-Marais, France, May 28, 2024. Ms. Shepperd was one of many contributors to "The Longest Yarn." She traveled to Normandy in late May to see the exhibition in person.

How shared history can heal

While “The Longest Yarn” has built community for the 1,000-strong band of volunteers, it also aims to bring people together from around the world over a shared history.

For Germans visiting Normandy, the topic of D-Day – and World War II in general – remains fraught. But for Marcos Pansegrau, visiting “The Longest Yarn” is therapeutic. His uncle died in August 1944, but his mother refused to visit her brother’s grave in Normandy until 2011. Since then, Mr. Pansegrau has been coming regularly to stay in one of Ms. Forster’s rental properties, where he’s met numerous veterans and their families.

“We’ve come together as British, American, and German, sharing a drink. It’s always an emotional moment,” says Mr. Pansegrau. “This project is an excellent way to come into contact with the war.”

With events for the 80th anniversary taking place all week, Normandy is expecting millions of tourists from Belgium, Canada, the U.K., and the U.S. President Joe Biden will also attend the commemoration, making it his first state visit to France.

“D-Day is an important part of this town’s history,” says Mayor Jean-Pierre Lhonneur. “You can see it from the American flags waving in the streets to the war scenes depicted in the stained glass windows of the local church. We’re going to do everything we can to show off this exhibit and teach what happened.”

For Mark Kulkowitz, “The Longest Yarn” is proof that communities can unite in the most unlikely ways to contribute to a collective memory. When the exhibit makes its voyage to Cape May, it will be as if his father, Harry, who received the Legion of Honor in 2010, is coming home.

“My father fought in the war; my mother is a Holocaust survivor. It means so much to be able to share their stories,” says Mr. Kulkowitz. “This isn’t political. It’s about people who gave up their lives for freedom and to make the world a better place.”

AP

A soldier stands guards as people line up to cast votes in Ayodhya, India, May 20.

This year, countries that include more than half of humanity are holding elections. This high rate of democratic activity, however, started against a grim backdrop. The watchdog group Freedom House noted in a February report the global erosion of individual rights and liberties, driven by attacks on “the peaceful coexistence of people with different political ideas, religions, or ethnic identities.”

At midyear, the voting so far indicates an optimistic pattern. Three of the most consequential ballots – in Turkey, South Africa, and India – have shown that societies are not powerless against ruling parties that overstay their welcome. Democracies can be self-correcting and renew their resilience.

In each of the three countries, an entrenched party sought to extend and expand its power, often using political intimidation and claims of entitlement rooted in the past. To the surprise of party leaders, voters didn’t buy it. They embraced equality over division and shared government over single-party control. And notably, women and youth were key agents of change.

In India, the ruling Bharatiya Janata Party and its charismatic leader, Prime Minister Narendra Modi, have stifled dissent and stirred violent religious nationalism. The party had expected to win absolute control of Parliament as voting ended last week. Instead, after a decade in power, the BJP lost its majority after voters rejected the trend toward authoritarianism.

Their verdict marks an opportunity “to repair our social fabric torn by hate ... to build a new consensus on social justice,” wrote Yamini Aiyar, president of the New Delhi-based Centre for Policy Research, in the Hindustan Times.

Similar events unfolded in South Africa in a May 29 election. Weary of corruption, stubbornly high unemployment, and constant power outages, voters denied the African National Congress an outright majority for the first time since the country embraced democracy 30 years ago. 

In March, voters in Turkey swept opposition candidates into local government across the country less than a year after tepidly giving the country’s autocratic president, Recep Tayyip Erdoğan, a third term. More than 2,000 women were elected to local offices, nearly doubling their representation since 2019. Voters embraced younger candidates, too.

The elections in these pivotal countries underscore how voters want to retain the ability to choose the ideals and values in their government. Voters rejected divisive ideologies and measures that undermined their countries’ constitutions. They expressed common concerns over jobs, education, and health care.

One telling loss for the BJP in India was in the city of Ayodhya, a flash point of sectarian violence driven by a rise in Hindu nationalism. In February, Mr. Modi had inaugurated a new Hindu temple on the site of a mosque destroyed during mob violence in 1992. Yet voters in the city united around shared economic aspirations – and voted out the party.

In all three countries, the elections showed a drop in public trust of government, perhaps caused by leaders who have sowed political divisions. To restore trust, writes Ismaeel Tharwat, a visiting business professor at American University in Beirut, leaders must “bring people who are different together and bond them.”

“This leadership should be reflected in a set of institutions with a vision of perfection and a mandate to strive towards it. It will require leaders, who are willing to take risks, to be the first to extend their hand and act with integrity,” he wrote for the World Economic Forum in January.

In three of the world’s most important democracies, voters held fast to making sure their vote matters and to choosing leaders they can trust. Integrity in government rests on the integrity of citizens.