Liberal Legal Organization Renews Amazon VP’s Position On Its Board Despite Member Protest

Originally published in The Intercept on December 22, 2020.
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IN LATE MARCH, following an employee walkout at an Amazon warehouse in Staten Island to protest the lack of safety protections amid the new pandemic, Amazon fired the lead organizer, Chris Smalls, with the public rationale that he had violated rules around social distancing. Under pressure, Amazon pledged in early April to ramp up its distribution of personal protective equipment, but a leaked memo from a private meeting revealed company executives had discussed how to smear Smalls and damage any potential union efforts. Smalls is “not smart, or articulate,” argued Amazon’s general counsel David Zapolsky, who urged the company to tell reporters Smalls’s conduct was “immoral, unacceptable, and arguably illegal.”

Zapolsky’s comments outraged many left-leaning groups, including a group of lawyers and law students affiliated with the American Constitution Society, a self-described progressive legal organization that was created in 2001 to help build the bench of liberal judges and act as a countervailing force to the conservative Federalist Society. More than 100 individuals sent a letter to ACS’s president, Russ Feingold, the former Democratic senator from Wisconsin, and the ACS board of directors protesting the inclusion of a deputy of Zapolsky’s, Andrew DeVore, in its leadership ranks. DeVore, an Amazon vice president and associate general counsel, reports to Zapolsky and manages Amazon’s “labor and employment” issues, among other areas.

The signatories argued that Amazon’s conduct around Smalls was no isolated incident when it comes to “trampling worker rights” and also blasted the company’s record on privacy, surveillance, tax avoidance, anticompetitive practices, contracts with ICE, and bullying of local governments. “We urge you to ask for Mr. DeVore’s immediate resignation from the Board of Directors,” the letter read. DeVore was appointed in 2017.

Following the letter, ACS sought to handle the internal uprising in several ways, including organizing a virtual town hall for local chapter leaders with Feingold to discuss their concerns.

Feingold “expressed ACS’s respect for workers rights, but my feeling was he treated the meeting like a politician as a way to pacify the opposition rather than committing to specific actions,” said Hooman Hedayati, a member of the Washington, D.C., ACS chapter board who attended the town hall. Feingold declined to share with attendees how much money ACS receives from Amazon (it’s listed as a 2020 corporate sponsor on its website) but insisted the amount was negligible.

ACS also released a public statement reiterating the organization’s support for workers’s rights, and urged “employers to support the right of their employees” to form unions and demand safe working conditions.

Hedayati noted the statement failed to name-check Amazon specifically. “I think it was very concerning that ACS as a progressive organization won’t make a statement that specifically calls out Amazon and its bad track record,” he told The Intercept. “It makes me question to what degree they’d really be willing to speak up in support of the labor movement.”

Feingold also made a few personal calls, including to Leo Gertner, a labor lawyer and lead organizer of the letter, to suggest that the problem will basically go away when DeVore’s three-year term expires at the end of the year. “Feingold was very nice, diplomatic, and courteous and told me he was very supportive of our effort, but that the board was not interested in voting to remove Mr. DeVore or change his status in any way,” Gertner said. “But he told me DeVore was up for reappointment soon and his term was going to end this year.”

Since April, Amazon has continued to face charges of anti-worker activity, most recently this month, when attorneys for the company sought to blunt a union effort at an Alabama warehouse.

But in response to questioning, ACS confirmed to The Intercept that DeVore’s position on the board was actually renewed this year for another three-year term. David Lyle, ACS’s senior counsel for communications, said in a statement that keeping DeVore on “does not affect ACS programming or other decisions, at the national or chapter levels,” but maintained that leadership found him “to be a very engaged board member” and “valu[ed] representation of a diversity of experiences.”

ACS’S TIES TO Silicon Valley do not end with DeVore. Apple’s in-house counsel, Philippa Scarlett, was appointed to the board of directors in 2017, and now serves on ACS’s board of advisers, though her affiliation with Apple is not actually disclosed in her bio.

Over the last decade, ACS has taken at least $290,000 from Google, Microsoft, and Facebook, with other corporate sponsorships coming from Verizon and Amazon, according to pages detailing ACS convention donors. The contributions have raised questions among its members about how ACS positions itself on matters of antitrust, bankruptcy, and corporate power — areas where ACS has less clear stances than it does on issues around reproductive and civil rights. Some members say this is because ACS has molded its politics in the image of the corporate-minded Senate that serves as gatekeeper to the judiciary.

“ACS is an elite-driven organization based in D.C. with a board of directors full of Harvard, Yale, and Stanford alums, where most of those folks cut their teeth in corporate law and advised those megacorporations,” said Gertner. “I think they have an interest in putting themselves out as liberal and progressive because they have genuinely pro-choice views and are mildly anti-war, but the capture of the elite stratum by corporations is pretty much complete.”

ACS doesn’t shy away from questioning corporate power, though the bulk of its interrogation has been confined to panel discussions. Anti-monopoly advocate Barry Lynn of the Open Markets Institute says ACS could be doing more to offer a progressive vision on these issues, in the way the Federalist Society helps train and educate its conservative members on monopoly and antitrust.

Following the election of Donald Trump, some antitrust advocates, including Lynn, reached out to ACS to encourage the legal organization to take a firmer stance on these issues. In February 2017, Lynn, his colleague Lina Khan, antitrust attorney Jonathan Kanter, and Andy Green of the Center for American Progress met with Kara Stein, ACS’s vice president of policy and program.

“We said, ‘Hey, at least do no harm, don’t support people who are hardcore conservative on corporate welfare,’” Lynn said. “We want them to be a counterweight to the Federalist Society. Maybe they won’t take as radical a position as us, but we do think they should be pretty critical and at least work to educate its members about why the right takes the positions it does.” Lynn says the response they received was relative openness — if anti-monopoly advocates could fundraise for the work.

“They basically told us, ‘Well, if you really want us to engage on these issues around monopoly, then the way to do it would be to give us some money, build up a program,’” Lynn said, adding that Washington, D.C., “is full of these pay-to-play places.” David Lyle, ACS’s senior counsel for communications, didn’t deny Lynn’s characterization of the meeting and said it “was like many ACS holds regularly to explore partnerships and ways to collaborate on topics and issues.”

ACS has sponsored local and national events that have been critical of corporate power and encouraged stronger antitrust work, including an antitrust conference Khan organized at Yale. Hedayati says his ACS chapter has hosted several antitrust events in recent years — including one last month on political influence around antitrust investigations and a film screening in 2019 where members discussed shortcomings of antitrust law.

In response to questions, Lyle also pointed to a national panel ACS sponsored on consolidation of wealth and power in 2017, one on the constitutional dilemmas of Big Tech in 2018, and one on tech regulation in July. He also noted ACS has “been pleased” to publish scholars like Khan in ACS’s official law journal, and that the organization is publishing an essay by her this week with policy recommendations for the Biden administration.

In a statement to The Intercept, Khan said, “ACS’s leadership choices speak to the organization’s values, and it’s inappropriate for ACS to use my willingness to participate in past events as cover for its troubling choice to reappoint a top Amazon lawyer to the board.”

ACS declined to comment on the donations it receives from tech companies or make Feingold available for an interview. “Our work in this field, including the promotion of leading advocates of more strict antitrust enforcement and critics of technology companies speaks for itself,” said Lyle. As a U.S. senator, Feingold was a leading champion on campaign finance reform, pushing major legislation to curb the influence of money in politics. He was also known among his colleagues — and often privately resented — for his strict and obsessive fealty to the spirit of Senate ethics rules.

Lynn told The Intercept that ACS’s corporate tech donations “can’t help but affect” the organization. “When those sorts of folks are in the room they’re going to affect the policy,” he said.

Other members argue ACS’s murkiness on corporate power is less a reflection of rank corruption and points more to the reality that ACS’s aim to be a “big-tent” organization for liberals means it effectively becomes more of a networking group, with inevitable vague policy positions palatable to the full Democratic Party. In the absence of drawing clearer lines in the sand and providing a sharper vision for what progressive lawyering means in the realms of corporate power and bankruptcy law, newer organizations like Demand Justice, the People’s Parity Project, and the Law and Political Economy Project will continue to fill what its supporters say is an intellectual and advocacy void for lawyers on the left.

The Biden administration, for its part, has recently appointed a number of leaders and alumni from big tech companies, though maintains it will continue serious investigations into the practices of these firms. The Trump administration filed a major antitrust suit against Google, which will continue under the Biden administration. The suit is seen as potentially the first of several such clashes with tech titans.

“I think antitrust and antimonopoly people feel listened to on the substance by the Biden administration,” said Jeff Hauser, the director of the Revolving Door Project, which advocates for progressive executive branch appointments. “But the question is whether there will be people appointed who will be able to slow the move of the government against these companies.”

Arkansas Could Give Amy Coney Barrett Her Big Abortion Moment

Originally published in Rewire on December 16, 2020.
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Amy Coney Barrett has been a Supreme Court justice for less than two months, yet Arkansas lawmakers wasted no time introducing an anti-abortion bill aimed squarely at the Court, whose new conservative supermajority puts the future of abortion rights in serious jeopardy.

Advocates have called the Unborn Child Protection Act, introduced in November ahead of Arkansas’ next legislative session, “so egregious”—particularly in light of the COVID-19 pandemic that continues to ravage the country with no federal relief bill in sight.

Arkansas already has a law banning abortion should the Supreme Court overturn Roe v. Wade20 other states have similiar laws in place.

The same lawmaker who sponsored the state’s so-called trigger ban last year, Republican state Sen. Jason Rapert, introduced this latest bill that he said was meant to more directly challenge Roe. He did not return multiple requests for comment.

SB 6 would ban all abortion unless a woman’s life was in danger, and like the trigger ban, it has language unusually directed to the nation’s high court.

“The State of Arkansas urgently pleads with the United States Supreme Court to do the right thing, as they did in one of their greatest cases, Brown v. Board of Education, which overturned a fifty-eight year-old precedent of the United States, and reverse, cancel, overturn, and annul Roe v. Wade, Doe v. Bolton, and Planned Parenthood v. Casey,” the legislation reads.

ACLU of Arkansas Executive Director Holly Dickson issued a statement calling Rapert’s bill “cruel and blatantly unconstitutional.” She urged state lawmakers to shelve the bill and focus on COVID-19 relief.

“Let’s be clear: if passed, this brazenly unconstitutional abortion ban will be struck down in court, and legislators who passed it will have achieved nothing but having wasted taxpayer dollars on an unlawful measure and diverted scarce resources from the urgent needs our communities face in the midst of an ongoing and devastating pandemic,” Dickson said.

Gloria Pedro, Planned Parenthood Great Plains Votes’ regional manager of public policy and organizing for Arkansas and Oklahoma, said the bill is the “equivalent of a demand letter to the Supreme Court, which is not how the Supreme Court works. And there’s already a trigger law passed, which is why this is so egregious.”

Patients can access abortion in Arkansas up to the 20th week postfertilization, or 22 weeks’ gestation. There are two clinics in the state, both in Little Rock, though only one provides procedural abortions.

Advocates for reproductive rights in Arkansas have had their hands full fighting back against anti-choice legislation over the last decade, with some bills landing in multiyear battles in federal court. Conservatives have long eagerly eyed the Eighth Circuit, a federal appellate court with jurisdiction over Arkansas, as a way to bring a challenge against Roe to the U.S Supreme Court. Back in 2015, Eighth Circuit appellate judges recommended the high court “reevaluate its jurisprudence” on abortion, and urged for more state discretion over reproductive decision-making.

One such challenge began in 2017, after Arkansas legislators passed new laws to criminalize doctors who perform dilation and evacuation (the most common second-trimester abortion procedure) and require a patient inform the person who got them pregnant before they could get an abortion. The ACLU of Arkansas and the Center for Reproductive Rights sued over those laws and additional state restrictions, like requiring doctors to notify local law enforcement when patients under 17 years old seek to terminate a pregnancy. The laws were temporarily enjoined.

This past August, a three-person Eighth Circuit panel ruled against the plaintiffs, citing Chief Justice John Roberts’ concurrence in the Supreme Court’s recent June Medical Services v. Russo decision. In that case, the Supreme Court ruled that a Louisiana law placing hospital admission requirements on abortion clinic providers was unconstitutional, echoing its 2016 position in Whole Woman’s Health v. Hellerstedt.

But in his concurring opinion, Roberts argued that while he agreed with his four liberal colleagues that the Louisiana case was virtually identical to Whole Woman’s Health, he believed the “undue burden” standard used to decide that case was wrong, and should not involve weighing costs and benefits of an abortion restriction when judging its legality.

“We don’t agree that one justice’s opinion can change the precedent set by Whole Woman’s Health that clarified the undue burden standard requires this balancing standard,” said Hillary Schneller, a senior staff attorney at the Center for Reproductive Rights, who asked the Eighth Circuit to review the decision en banc. (That means the case will be heard before the entire bench of judges, rather than a three-person panel.)

Schneller said “there’s always a chance” a case like this could wind up at the Supreme Court, but for now they’re just waiting on the Eighth Circuit.

That wait came to an end Tuesday afternoon when the Eighth Circuit summarily rejected the en banc request in a one-page order. Without further court intervention Arkansas’ restrictions could take effect as soon as December 22.

Meanwhile, reproductive rights advocates have also been dealing with harassment related to the pandemic. Arkansas health officials earlier this year sent a cease-and-desist letter to Little Rock Family Planning Services, arguing their procedural abortions were “elective” and should wait until after the public health crisis ends. State officials also tried to force patients to get negative COVID-19 tests within 48 hours of getting an abortion, even though tests were in short supply.

While advocates have successfully fended off some of the worst restrictions, reproductive rights groups concede there are more anti-choice bills passed every legislative session than could possibly be challenged.

“We can’t challenge every single restriction and those restrictions are continuing to stack on the books,” Dickson said. “They join together to create substantial obstacles and burdens for patients.” There was a 30 percent decline in the Arkansas abortion rate between 2014 and 2017, and according to the state’s health department, 2,963 abortions took place in Arkansas in 2019.

Pedro of Planned Parenthood Great Plains Votes noted that Arkansas has the fourth highest maternal mortality rate in the nation and one of the highest infant mortality rates. In 2016, Arkansas had the highest teen pregnancy rate in the country, and public schools in the state still do not provide comprehensive sex education and primarily endorse abstinence-only instruction.

“It’s not just that these bills take away reproductive rights, which is crucial, but they’re also having a real tangible impact in our state, and things are getting worse,” Pedro said.

Pedro and Dickson say the most helpful thing would be for residents to pressure their state representatives to avoid wasting energy and resources on more anti-choice bills.

“Arkansas does not need to fly the trial balloon and be the trendsetter on setting regressive law,” Dickson said. “We have so many other things that we need our state to focus on.”

After George Floyd, Carbon Capture Tech Tiptoes Into Racial Justice

Originally published in The Intercept on December 14, 2020.
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IN MAY 2019, the Carbon Capture Coalition, a group of roughly 60 companies, unions, research institutes, and energy groups that support carbon capture technology, released a policy platform that was entirely focused on their desired federal investments. The agenda emphasized things like expanding tax credits and loan guarantees, as well as incentivizing new research and development.

Then came the police killing of George Floyd and a summer of protest that reshaped politics, influencing even the debate around carbon capture’s role in the fight against climate change. The coalition’s new policy platform, released in late October, is focused on ways that carbon capture projects could also contribute to environmental justice. 

Beginning in January, the Clean Air Task Force, a research and advocacy group that backs carbon capture, will be launching at least four case studies in California and Texas to study how, if at all, carbon capture technology reduces local air pollution. Their objective, said Deepika Nagabhushan, who is leading a new environmental justice initiative at the organization, would be to provide front-line communities with the information by the end of 2021, so residents can better determine whether carbon capture meets their needs. Nagabhushan told The Intercept that the protests over the last year “have really brought social equity and addressing systemic racism to the forefront” of all conversations, including for carbon capture. 

Some left-wing climate groups take a strong stance against carbon capture, seeing it as a distraction at best and a malign oil industry scheme that will only help prolong, rather than hasten, the industry’s decline. In his presidential climate change plan, Sen. Bernie Sanders echoed the stance of groups like Greenpeace, Friends of the Earth, and the Sunrise Movement, calling carbon capture a “false solution.” This past September, the House of Representatives passed a nearly 900-page clean energy package, though 18 Democrats, including Reps. Alexandria Ocasio-Cortez, Rashida Tlaib, Ilhan Omar, and Ayanna Pressley, voted against it, after a coalition of progressive climate groups protested the bill’s support for carbon capture.

Jessie Stolark, the public policy and members relations manager for the Carbon Capture Coalition, said her group is currently “undergoing an evolution” with regards to how they approach potential impacts and benefits to frontline communities. The political logic is sound: Carbon capture is a rare climate policy with Republican support, and unions and mainline Democrats are already on board, with the holdouts residing on the left. Demonstrating the benefits to marginalized communities could help erode that opposition.

Climate change, of course, is a global and universal problem for humanity. But its effects are being and will be felt earliest and hardest among those with the least means to mitigate it, and the least political power to confront the overlapping crises it produces and exacerbates. Major sources of carbon emissions, meanwhile, also tend to be sources of broader forms of pollution, often landing disproportionately on what have come to be known as front-line communities.

This year, in campaign memos sent to Joe Biden and Donald Trump, the Carbon Capture Coalition included language about the need to ensure that the tens of thousands of high-wage jobs associated with carbon capture projects actually benefit the disadvantaged communities where they may be cited, meaning “expanded support for training and apprenticeship programs undertaken in partnership with community colleges, trade unions and other local institutions in affected communities.” Stolark acknowledged that some communities may not want the projects even if they do come with high-wage jobs and said the coalition is “currently brainstorming” around those questions.

Biden’s election has given advocates for carbon capture a lot to be optimistic about. Back in July, his $2 trillion climate plan called for accelerating the development and deployment of carbon capture technology. On his new presidential transition website, where he lists four priorities including climate change, Biden mentions a commitment to innovating “negative emissions technologies” — an umbrella term that includes so-called direct air capture, or machines that suck already emitted carbon dioxide out of the air.

“It remains to be seen what they’re going to do but one area I’m really excited about is just developing the workforce,” said Stolark. “Biden’s climate plan said it would create 10 million jobs, so our question is what is that going to look like.”

In a letter sent September 18, progressive groups including Friends of the Earth, 350.org, and Food & Water Action argued that other environmental justice components of the House’s Clean Economy Jobs and Innovation Act would be undermined by its carbon capture provisions, and that it would perpetuate burdens on front-line communities and communities of color. “[A]ny new investment toward fossil fuel companies is unacceptable and quite simply incompatible with tackling environmental injustice and the climate crisis,” Lauren Maunus, the legislative manager of Sunrise Movement, told the New Republic after the vote. (This year BP, Shell, and Exxon Mobil wrote down billions in their fossil fuel reserves, telling investors they recognize that some of their reserves will never be pumped out of the ground.)

Despite the 18 protest votes, carbon capture has no shortage of Democratic support, and the House bill garnered votes from the majority of the Congressional Progressive Caucus and nearly all the Green New Deal resolution co-sponsors. Sen. Ed Markey, the original co-author of the Green New Deal with Ocasio-Cortez, also has a record of supporting carbon capture technology and assured the Carbon Capture Coalition of his support in 2019.

Unions are also strong supporters, and last year the BlueGreen Alliance, a coalition of labor and national environmental groups, released a plan for tackling inequality and climate change that included support for carbon capture tech. The environmental groups include the Sierra Club, the Natural Resources Defense Council, the National Wildlife Federation, the Union of Concerned Scientists, the Environmental Defense Action Fund, and the League of Conservation Voters — collectively known in environmental circles as “big green.” The unions include both building trade unions and unions representing industries that wouldn’t necessarily be directly impacted by investments in carbon capture, like the Service Employees International Union, the American Federation of Teachers, and the Communication Workers of America. Both the SEIU and the AFT have passed resolutions in support of the Green New Deal.

Brad Markell, the executive director for the AFL-CIO Industrial Union Council and a strong advocate for carbon capture technology, was tapped to serve on the Department of Energy transition team for the Biden administration. Also serving on that team is Noah Deich, the executive director for Carbon180, a group focused on carbon removal, like direct air capture.

One advantage Biden and carbon capture supporters have on their side is the growing scientific consensus that the only way to reach global climate targets by mid-century would be to utilize carbon capture technology, which can both help reduce future emissions and remove some of the carbon dioxide that’s already been released. This past September, for example, the International Energy Agency released a report warning it would be “virtually impossible” to reach net zero without carbon capture tech. In 2018, the Intergovernmental Panel on Climate Change also affirmed carbon capture tech would be necessary to hit climate targets absent rapid reforestation and major changes to global diets and energy consumption. There’s also the fact that renewable energy alternatives like wind and solar are not viable solutions for reducing carbon emissions in the industrial sector, and nearly a quarter of all U.S greenhouse gas emissions come from industry.

“Even if we close every coal fire plant in America — which I don’t think we’re going to do for a while — but even if we did that, it doesn’t change the basic fact that if you believe and follow the science, carbon capture is a thing we must do globally at scale or we won’t make it,” Lee Anderson, director of governmental affairs for the Utility Workers Union of America, told The Intercept last year.

While advocates for carbon capture have been outlining priorities they’d like to see the Biden administration take on, Congress is also currently considering new legislation that could pass as soon as this month. Lawmakers are considering bills both to extend a tax credit to incentivize carbon capture projects and to authorize new demonstrations in the power sector.

Notably, while groups like Sunrise and Friends of the Earth have cited environmental justice as a reason to oppose carbon capture, leaders within the carbon capture movement have been crediting progressive climate organizations for pushing them to think more deeply about environmental justice.

“I think a lot of these movements around a Green New Deal have been really responsible for pushing more groups to center environmental justice in the climate discussion,” said Erin Burns, policy director for Carbon180.

“We’re in a great place where the Department of Energy has done really great R&D and we have a lot of information on how to do things like saline storage safely and securely, but when you’re talking about the need to inject millions of tons of CO2 into the ground, you need to think about how do we talk to communities about that, and what are the questions those communities will have,” said Burns. “We want to make sure we’re thinking about developing clear materials to ensure communities can have a strong voice in how these projects go forward, and that there can be really robust, meaningful engagement.”

Burns declined to share specific names but told The Intercept that Carbon180 has started having conversations with environmental justice groups and expressed gratitude to activists who have lent their time and expertise. While “we absolutely expect resistance and skepticism,” said Burns, from some carbon capture organizations that may balk at pressure to change their practices, “at this point I think we are at least cautiously optimistic.”

The Desperate Last Days of Local News

Originally published in New Republic on December 14, 2020.
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The Desperate Last Days of Local News | The New Republic

In 2018, in an act of defiance that would become known as the Denver Rebellion, a group of current and former Denver Post staffers wrote and designed a six-page Sunday spread of op-ed pieces aimed at the paper’s owners, the New York–based hedge fund Alden Global Capital. The project, which led with the title, “As vultures circle, The Denver Post must be saved,” detailed how Alden’s ownership decimated the outlet.

As just one example, the Denver newsroom shrank from more than 250 employees to fewer than 100, even as management reported solid profits. Journalists no longer had enough manpower to report on all the hearings and local events that warranted coverage, even as subscription prices continued to rise.

Prior to the closure, CNHI had been a relatively fair steward of the paper. Robert Carter, a journalist who worked at the North Jefferson News for more than seven years, told me that while he felt CNHI was not very adept at guiding its properties into the digital age, he felt little pressure from his corporate owners on how to do reporting, and praised them for keeping the business side separate. (CHNI only intervened editorially once that Carter can recall, in 2016, when CHNI execs requested the papers write editorials endorsing Hillary Clinton.  “That didn’t really please many people,” Carter recalled. “Maybe it works for their northern Massachusetts papers, but if you ran that thing in Cullman or Gardendale, Alabama—which is one of the most heavily Republican districts in the country—needless to say, it didn’t go over well.”) Bronner declined to comment for this story, and Ketter said it was not mandatory and some papers chose to forego an endorsement. 

The role of hedge funds and private equity is familiar fare for anyone following the economics of the news industry over the past decade. The extraordinary protest in Colorado led to front-page coverage in The New York Times and editorials from leading media writers, such as The Washington Post’s Margaret Sullivan—she called Alden “one of the most ruthless of the corporate strip-miners,” whose subsidiary Digital First is “wreaking similar havoc all over the country.” An American Prospect feature story, “Saving the Free Press From Private Equity,” detailed the rapacious role these financial entities have played in driving local media’s decline.

And yet what’s become clear is that this narrow focus on the “vultures” of Wall Street—the cartoonish capitalists singularly focused on profits with no loyalty to news production or the communities their outlets serve—is still not quite the full picture. Ending private equity’s grip on journalism would surely decelerate some of the massive cuts in reporting but wouldn’t be anywhere near sufficient to address the underlying challenges that capitalism ultimately poses to journalism. The problem is a lot bigger than these firms.

The importance of news access to functioning democracies has long been clear, so much so that the Founding Fathers actually viewed the Postal Service for its first few decades as primarily a way to deliver periodicals throughout the country. Federal lawmakers understood that this great democratic experiment could never work if voters were not informed on their communities and leaders. Today we have even more evidence to support the case that local journalism and democracy go hand in hand: Researchers have found the presence of newspapers can make elected officials more responsive and encourage more people to run for office. When newspapers close, studies have found government costs go up, driven by less scrutiny over local deals.

While media watchers have long grasped the threat private equity poses to this democratic mandate of news-gathering, the reality is that even alternative business models that are supposedly more sustainable, like pension-backed journalism and billionaire-sustained news, are proving far more unreliable than previously understood. Journalism is a public good, and it’s well past time we treat it that way.

The Community Newspaper Holdings Inc. is one of the largest chains of daily and weekly newspapers across the country. CNHI is fully owned by the Retirement Systems of Alabama, the state pension fund that manages more than $40 billion in investments and covers roughly 360,000 Alabama teachers, state employees, judges, and retirees. In addition to its venture in small local newspapers, the RSA has earned national headlines for some of its other unconventional investments, including golf courses, resorts, and even the largest commercial skyscraper in Manhattan.

Directed for decades by CEO David Bronner, the Alabama pension fund is considered by media industry experts to be a much more benevolent owner than, say, Alden Global Capital. Indeed it’s difficult to picture a more public-minded investment vehicle than a teachers’ pension fund, where the members are passionate about educating their communities. And Bronner himself has said he believes in the mission of local news. “There’s still a huge need throughout the country, and the more isolated the community, the greater the need for local news, because nobody knows about anything if you don’t have a local newspaper,” he said in 2018, when RSA increased its CNHI ownership stake from 87 percent to 100 percent.

The more than 100 CNHI papers nationwide are overseen day to day by Senior Vice President of News Bill Ketter, the former editor in chief at the Pulitzer Prize– winning Eagle Tribune in North Andover, Massachusetts, which CNHI purchased in 2005. Ketter says their charge is to produce “local journalism to the best of our ability” and credits RSA with being “very hands-off” editorially. With rightful pride, he pointed to one of its small papers, in Palestine, Texas, which won the Pulitzer Prize for editorial writing earlier this year. Its dailies have an average circulation of roughly 10,000; its weeklies, 7,500; and, as of 2016, nearly 60 percent of CNHI papers served rural areas.

CNHI merged with the television company Raycom in 2017, but a year later, when Raycom was acquired by the Southern outfit Gray Television, its new owner had no interest in newspapers, so CNHI was put up for sale. Soon after, RSA put in a bid to acquire the remainder of the company. “Everyone was relieved,” Ketter told me, “because they had been a longtime investor in the company and knew us.” CNHI had fended off what the newsrooms perceived as the more existential threat of private equity ownership.

Al Cross, director of the Institute for Rural Journalism and Community Issues at the University of Kentucky, shared Ketter’s assessment of the sale. “CNHI did many good things journalistically, and they did so under the Retirement System’s ownership,” he said.

Yet even with Bronner’s professed commitment to local news, the primary motive of the pension fund—to generate returns for workers and retirees—couldn’t and can’t be obscured. This was evident even before the Covid-19 crisis ravaged the news industry, for instance when CNHI began moving to a more regional model, which helped save costs but also meant a small group of editors would manage news across larger swathes of the country.

“It makes all kinds of business sense for CNHI to regionalize. The question is, does it make journalistic sense?” said Cross, who noted that some of the company’s newly merged papers were quite distant from one another.

While not as extreme as private equity, the pressures of CNHI’s pension-backed ownership have also placed strains on local coverage. Between 2004 and 2016, CNHI sold or closed at least two dozen papers, according to research compiled by Penny Abernathy, the Knight Chair in Journalism and Digital Media Economics at UNC Chapel Hill.

One example was the Leeds News, a local Alabama paper CNHI acquired in 1998 that had been serving its community for 70 years. In 2011, CNHI merged it with another paper. “The community of Leeds is today getting some coverage from The Trussville Tribune, but it’s not the same,” said Tom Arenberg, a journalism instructor at the University of Alabama. Aside from Leeds, The Trussville Tribune, which is a weekly paper, covers seven other cities across two counties. Despite valiant efforts of journalists at these outlets, that kind of consolidation often leads to a loss in local specificity: Entire beats can disappear, and it’s harder to cover local government with fewer staff.

These concerns have been heightened under the current public health crisis and subsequent economic collapse, as a greater number of CNHI papers have been closed or reduced circulation. The Gardendale, Alabama–based North Jefferson News, founded in 1970 and acquired by CNHI in 1997, was one of the pandemic recession’s newsroom casualties.

Prior to the closure, CNHI had been a relatively fair steward of the paper. Robert Carter, a journalist who worked at the North Jefferson News for more than seven years, told me that while he felt CNHI was not very adept at guiding its properties into the digital age, he felt little pressure from his corporate owners on how to do reporting, and praised them for keeping the business side separate. (Carter said David Bronner only intervened editorially once that he can remember, in 2016, when Bronner wrote an editorial endorsing Hillary Clinton and required his CNHI papers to run it. “That didn’t really please many people,” Carter recalled. “Maybe it works for their northern Massachusetts papers, but if you ran that thing in Cullman or Gardendale, Alabama—which is one of the most heavily Republican districts in the country—needless to say, it didn’t go over well.”) Bronner declined to comment for this story.

This past April, CNHI closed the paper, “merging” it with another based in a town 40 miles away. Arenberg said he thought North Jefferson News, which served the northern part of his county, “was a very good paper.” The publication covered everything from public schools and sports to local government and businesses and impacts from natural disasters. It ran obituaries and local op-eds, and featured birthday, graduation, and engagement announcements.

In April, CNHI also consolidated a number of its northeastern Kentucky weeklies into one daily, for example merging The Morehead News with a paper covering a town 55 miles away. “Many dailies have swallowed up sister weeklies, but it’s unusual if not unprecedented for such consolidation over such a distance,” Cross wrote. In the following months, Indiana, Iowa, Oklahoma, and Florida endured more mergers of long-standing papers. The three North Florida CNHI papers to close in July—the Suwannee Democrat, the Mayo Free Press, and The Jasper News —had covered rural Florida communities since the 1800s.

Abernathy, the UNC professor, said there are “degrees of aggressive management” of investment entities over journalism, and thinks CNHI “is by no means the worst.” That said, Abernathy predicts CNHI will continue to sell off its properties, pointing to the summer of 2018, when CNHI announced its plans to step back from newspaper ownership, and noted the pension fund has faced mounting pressure to increase the return on its investments. While the Retirement Systems of Alabama does not break out financial results for CNHI, back in 2001 the pension fund was fully funded, but since then its investments have frequently fallen short of expectations. By 2015, it faced $13 billion in state pension debts and $11 billion in unfunded liabilities. “Like the readers and advertisers who abandoned the CNHI papers in recent years, RSA has decided to shed its newspaper habit,” Abernathy wrote. In effect, the local news crisis is converging with the nation’s looming pension crisis. No pension fund would now consider making the kind of investment Alabama’s made back in the late twentieth century.

Ultimately, though, it’s not just financial investment vehicles that cannot be counted on to give local journalism the security it needs to effectively serve communities. Billionaires—once viewed as potential media saviors—are increasingly ducking out, too. Earlier this year, Warren Buffett, who at the time was the third-richest man in the world with a net worth of $88 billion, felt dissatisfied with the returns on his chain of newspapers and decided to sell. That was quite a change in tune when, just a few years earlier, he told CNN, “In towns and cities where there is a strong sense of community, there is no more important institution than the local paper.”

Likewise Laurene Powell Jobs, who has a $21 billion net worth, waded into journalism but has made brutal cuts. In 2019, she purchased a majority stake in The Atlantic, and just two months into the Covid-19 pandemic, the company laid off nearly 20 percent of its staff, including 22 editorial employees, despite Powell being financially equipped to help her magazine weather the tough advertising tides of the pandemic many, many times over. Powell Jobs also purchased the award-winning magazine California Sunday in November 2018, only to shutter the entire publication in October.

To save journalism—which desperately needs saving—it’s clear policymakers need to act, and finally grasp that neither financial investment entities nor the wobbling interest of the ultrarich are real solutions.

Some journalists have resisted the idea of public subsidy for journalism—arguing it violates a sacred firewall of reporting. Accountability-driven reporting requires independence, and if the state funds a publication, then that could implicitly or explicitly affect coverage. It’s an understandable concern, but in 2020 it’s an overblown fear when considering the potential tradeoffs. Thankfully, many leaders in media have been changing their tune, recognizing there frankly just is no viable alternative if we believe access to news is something all citizens deserve.

Besides, journalists already have the tools to hold outlets and fellow reporters accountable. We have extraordinary reporters providing hard-hitting local news with public subsidy through NPR and PBS, and as Victor Pickard, a media studies scholar at the Annenberg School for Communication, has pointed out, the United States is a global outlier among democracies for how little it spends on public media.

Times are changing. In March, the Department of Homeland Security designated newsrooms as “essential” services throughout the pandemic, and hundreds of newspapers received federal Paycheck Protection Program loans over the last few months to stay afloat. On the state level, advocates have been organizing for more public subsidy, too. In 2018, New Jersey became the first state to pass legislation establishing a new consortium that will fund local reporting with public funds. Activists in states like Colorado and Massachusetts are considering similar ideas.

We already subsidize the arts nationally, and electrical power in rural areas. If we believe local journalism is a public good, essential for citizens in every democratic community, then we need to ensure everyone has access to it. Billionaires and pension funds were never going to save us from the news desertification of the U.S. And if, like universal mail delivery, news outlets can’t survive through market forces and charity alone, then the government must step in and make that possible.

Philadelphia Teacher Faces 65 Years In Prison After Another Person Torched a Police Car During a Protest

Originally published in The Appeal on December 9, 2020.
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Federal agents raided the West Philadelphia home of Anthony Smith on the morning of Oct. 28 and arrested him for allegedly aiding the destruction of a police car during racial justice protests. Federal prosecutors said Smith, a 29-year-old social studies teacher and an organizer with the Philadelphia Coalition for Racial Economic and Legal Justice, posed on May 30 for “celebratory photographs” on a flipped and spray-painted Philadelphia police vehicle and then placed “combustible materials” inside after an unnamed person lit it on fire. 

Smith was hit with multiple charges in the October indictment; he faces a combined mandatory minimum sentence of seven years, and a maximum of 65 years. The raid on his home came just two days after Philadelphia police shot and killed 27-year-old Walter Wallace Jr. as his mother watched nearby. Philadelphia magazinerecognized Smith this year as one of the city’s “most influential” leaders. He is also a plaintiff in an NAACP lawsuit filed over the Philadelphia Police Department’s use of chemical weapons and rubber bullets against protesters in the spring.  

Smith’s case is one of nearly 300 nationwide brought by federal prosecutors against protesters over the last six months, and activists say that many of those charged have social justice backgrounds. Smith’s is also not the only case involving burning police vehicles. In late May, federal prosecutors charged two young attorneys in New York City with throwing a Molotov cocktail through the broken window of an unoccupied police car. No one was hurt—but if convicted they would face mandatory minimum sentences of 45 years in prison. In Salt Lake City, federal charges were brought against four people for flipping and burning a police car during a spring protest. Some legal experts have questioned the federal government’s decision to get involved in what are typically considered local crimes.

Carissa Byrne Hessick, a University of North Carolina law professor who studies prosecutors, says conservatives have tended to argue more often against federal prosecutions in traditionally local matters, but liberal-leaning experts have leveled those critiques more frequently during the Trump era. “The decision to bring these cases seems like part of a broader Justice Department strategy to prosecute crimes committed at these protests with a level of harshness that local officials aren’t necessarily doing,” she said. “And to deal with complaints about policing and police violence not by working with activists or trying to calm the tensions, but instead to take a very hard line law-and-order stance.”

During the late October raid, Smith, one of three men charged in the indictment, was detained at his home and sent to Lehigh County Jail. On Nov. 5, prosecutors acknowledged that Smith has “no known criminal history prior to this offense” and has “substantial ties to the community” but argued that he should be detained pretrial “following his dangerous and violent activity that has resulted in these serious federal arson charges.” In their motion for pretrial detention, prosecutors cited a June social media post by Smith, a cartoon displaying a police car on fire with the caption “quit your day job.” They also said that during the raid on Smith’s home they found a T-shirt with the phrase “[I don’t] fuck with 12” (“12” is slang for  “police”). 

Smith’s lawyer, Paul Hetznecker, criticized the decision by William McSwain, the U.S. attorney for the Eastern District of Pennsylvania and a President Trump appointee, to bring the charges. He called it a political stunt aimed at criminalizing dissent. “The U.S. attorney charged Smith because he’s part of a politically progressive movement and the message [Attorney General] William Barr is sending is a political one on what are traditionally state court crimes,” Hetznecker said. “It’s a dangerous abuse of federal, prosecutorial, discretionary power.”

Local activists immediately began organizing for Smith’s release, planning rallies, collecting over 8,000 petition signatures, and writing more than 70 letters of support to the judge handling the case. On Nov. 9, Hetznecker filed a court brief calling the government’s evidence that Smith poses a threat “weak and ill-conceived” and a dangerous abuse of First Amendment protected speech. Hetznecker also noted “there is not one shred of evidence” that Smith had done anything in the months since the May incident to suggest he was a danger to the community. 

Shima Baughman, a criminal law professor at the University of Utah and a national expert on bail and pretrial detention, told The Appeal she has never heard of prosecutors using T-shirt slogans and social media posts as evidence for pretrial detention. But prosecutors always aim to depict defendants as “high risk,” Baughman added, because people languishing in jail pretrial are easier to negotiate with. “They’re captive audiences in jail, more likely to take whatever deal they’re offered,” she said. “And if a defendant is in pretrial detention it makes it easier for a prosecutor to then say in court ‘look, this person was deemed dangerous.’”

On Nov. 9, a federal judge ruled that Smith was not high risk, could return to his home, and continue teaching his YouthBuild Charter School students over Zoom. (Sarah Burgess, YouthBuild’s director of curriculum and instruction, testified before the judge that Smith is a “deeply valued, and respected” member of their community.) 

After being released from jail, Smith posted several updates on Facebook, including one where he claimed he’s been under surveillance and that federal agents seized pictures of his loved ones during the raid on his home. “Advocating for black life can never be wrong,” he wrote in a Nov. 11 post. “Police wanted to embarrass me and ruin my name but it backfired. I got the best support system on the planet.”

Smith has a trial date scheduled for January. Hetznecker says he expects it to be delayed in part because the Eastern District of Pennsylvania has a major backlog of cases and the court has prioritized other cases during the COVID-19 pandemic.  

Some advocates are hoping that the case against Smith and his co-defendants never goes to trial under a Joe Biden presidency. In September, McSwain told Philadelphia magazine that he’d resign if Trump wasn’t re-elected, and rumors are floating that he might mount a U.S. Senate bid. Although a Biden-appointed U.S. Attorney could choose to drop the charges or prosecute the defendants on different terms, Justice Department veterans say career staff members are typically loath to drop existing criminal cases, even when there’s a change in administrations.

“I think we really don’t know what’s going to happen in a Biden DOJ in part because Biden has been signaling that he wants DOJ to be more independent, but a lot of people would characterize that to mean a return to how things were before President Trump,” says Hessick. “If [Biden appointees] come in and switch course on a bunch of individual cases then it makes it seem like the decisions were initially political…The question is will folks in the department continue on in the name of normalcy when the things that they were doing are not particularly normal?”

Jennifer Crandall, a spokesperson for the U.S attorney’s office, told The Appeal that McSwain is unable to comment on the Smith case. Last month, however, McSwain told the Philadelphia CBS affiliate that “Mr. Smith was not in any way targeted by my office. I knew nothing about Mr. Smith or his affiliations until the investigation was nearly complete. We do not investigate people at the U.S. Attorney’s Office. We investigate alleged criminal behavior.”

But Hetznecker maintains the federal government made a political decision in bringing charges against Smith one week before the election, and not leaving matters to state courts where there are lesser penalties. Barr has urged his U.S. attorneys to bring charges against Black Lives Matter protesters, including charges of “seditious conspiracy.”

When asked about Smith’s case, Philadelphia District Attorney Larry Krasner told The Appeal that he “usually has little to say” about cases brought by prosecutors outside his office and noted that he expects there to be a new U.S. attorney in the Eastern District of Pennsylvania soon. “And as with any federal case, if the feds chose not to pursue it and it came back into our laps we would look at it and we would try to do individual justice,” he said. “I’m not in a position to comment on the case, but I can say that the current U.S attorney, like so many Trump appointees, has tended to be far more interested in politics than justice.”

As he awaits trial, Smith said he’s been thinking about protesters who do not have a wide base of community support. “I think about other prisoners who weren’t able to accumulate 70+ character letters,” he wrote on Facebook on Nov. 16. “Humility and kindness are very important to me. But for the innocent, and the targeted, their freedom should belong to them no matter how ‘nice’ they are.” Smith pledged to avoid being “shoved into a box of respectability” so someone else could remain incarcerated based on their personality.