csmonitor--2020-11-03--Online misinformation is rampant. Four tips on stopping it.

It ’ s not about saying “ you ’ re wrong , ” she says .
“ It ’ s about having empathy for why somebody might believe something.
” Finally , remember our social media posts are tied to our identities .
That means attacking someone ’ s content can be perceived as a personal attack , says media scholar Claire Wardle .
When countering misinformation , it helps to offer credible sources , says Kathleen Carley , director of the Center for Informed Democracy & Social Cybersecurity at Carnegie Mellon University .
“ As opposed to just pointing @ @ @ @ @ @ @ an alternative , ” she says .
First , it ’ s important to make sure that you have your own facts straight .
Second , act fast .
Research suggests that we ’ re more prone to believe information – even if false – that we ’ ve encountered more than once .
Third , think about the impacts of reaching out publicly versus privately .
As tech companies and researchers continue working to thwart a range of “ information disorder , ” experts say that ordinary citizens can also play important @ @ @ @ @ @ @ it a cyber civic duty .
If there ’ s anything that everyone across the political spectrum can agree on , it ’ s that misinformation is widespread .
It ’ s easy to feel powerless , but there are ways that ordinary people can play a role in the solution .
This spring , Amber pored over Facebook posts as a self-appointed fact checker .
She ’ d seen how the president ’ s remarks at an April news briefing became mangled through memes .
No , Donald Trump didn ’ t @ @ @ @ @ @ @ by drinking bleach .
( Fact-checks here . )
But confusion over his speech spiraled out of context across websites , social media , and late-night comedy .
Amber , a human resources specialist from Crystal River , Florida , says she calmly commented on friends ’ posts with a link to a video of the event for reference .
“ I find that helps me not create an enemy with them , ” says Amber , who asked to omit her last name because of her employer ’ s restrictions on speaking @ @ @ @ @ @ @ someone ’ s intelligence , she adds , “ they ’ re just going to discount everything I said and also try to insult me back.
” About two-thirds of U.S. adults got their news from social media in 2018 .
Americans are more likely to share misinformation ( inaccurate content shared unknowingly ) , rather than disinformation ( inaccurate content shared to deceive ) , experts say .
Both can deepen divisions in an already polarized society , and – at worst – inspire violence .
As tech companies and researchers continue @ @ @ @ @ @ @ information disorder , ” experts say citizens like Amber can also play important roles in combating misinformation – not just as critically minded consumers , but as concerned family and friends .
Consider it a cyber civic duty .
“ They can act as trusted messengers , ” says Emma Margolin , senior research analyst at Data & Society .
Postelection , media scholar Claire Wardle hopes to see more emphasis on society-based strategies .
“ Fundamentally , if none of us shared any of this stuff , then we wouldn ’ t @ @ @ @ @ @ @ Wardle , co-founder and U.S. director of First Draft News .
She notes that disinformation actors are powerless without us sharing their content : “ We have to be part of the solution .
We just haven ’ t had these conversations enough.
” PEN America , a nonprofit that advocates for writers and human rights , is among a growing group of organizations offering media literacy training .
Its tip sheet on how to talk to acquaintances constructively about misinformation came in response to participants ’ demand , says Nora Benavidez , @ @ @ @ @ @ @ Free Expression Programs .
“ People are so hungry for permission to be empathetic , ” says Ms. Benavidez , who wrote the tip sheet .
Of course , correcting your leftist ex or right-wing uncle can be awkward at best , and not every attempt will be a win .
Here are some suggestions to start .
Is the post about that candidate actually false ?
Or does flattering coverage of them simply make your blood boil ?
Before confronting others , make sure your facts are straight – no matter your @ @ @ @ @ @ @ to [ debunk ] the myth that experts are never going to be victims , or believe in false or misleading content , because I absolutely have , ” says Ms. Benavidez at PEN America .
“ That ’ s how insidious and potent disinformation is.
” Beware of partisan websites posing as unbiased news sources , as well as misleading headlines .
Beyond sleuthing out the source , see if reputable fact-check websites have already verified the claim , like the Poynter Institute ’ s PolitiFact , The Washington Post Fact Checker @ @ @ @ @ @ @ simple reverse image search on Google may help verify images by determining their online origins .
Correct misinformation and disinformation as early as possible .
Experts encourage users to flag troubling posts on social media sites , which may remove the content .
Again , the earlier the better – before the masses have been exposed to it , says Ms. Margolin at Data & Society .
If a platform removes flagged content after it goes viral , the act of removal could backfire as it “ becomes its own story , ” @ @ @ @ @ @ @ platform of bias , or censorship of certain worldviews .
The “ illusory truth effect ” underscores the need to act fast : We ’ re more prone to believe information – even if false – that we ’ ve encountered more than once .
The effect holds true even when prior knowledge contradicts what we ’ re reading , psychologist Lisa Fazio ’ s research suggests .
This impacts our experience online , where content proliferates .
“ We ’ re seeing [ misinformation ] multiple times , and if we don @ @ @ @ @ @ @ , that repetition will likely increase our belief , ” says Dr. Fazio , assistant professor of psychology at Vanderbilt University .
Whether to confront your doom-scrolling Facebook friend publicly or privately about his problematic post requires some thought .
Research suggests that observing others ’ public correction can reduce misperceptions .
Yet due to the way social media algorithms work , publicly engaging with a post can actually amplify its false or misleading content .
Public call-outs may also be seen as shaming .
As PEN America ’ s tip sheet notes @ @ @ @ @ @ @ , you might try sending a private note politely pointing out that it ’ s incorrect.
” If you ’ re craving technique , consider the “ truth sandwich ” from linguist George Lakoff .
Lead with the truth , point out the lie , then conclude with the truth , so that correct information is most memorable .
It also helps to offer credible sources , says Kathleen Carley , director of the Center for Informed Democracy & Social Cybersecurity at Carnegie Mellon University .
“ As opposed to just pointing out @ @ @ @ @ @ @ alternative , ” she says .
Our social media posts are tied to our identities .
That means attacking someone ’ s content can be perceived as a personal attack , says Dr. Wardle of First Draft News .
That could make them double down .
“ It ’ s about having empathy for why somebody might believe something … rather than saying ‘ you ’ re wrong , ’ ” says Dr. Wardle .
In lieu of lecturing , empathetic outreach could focus on a user ’ s online actions or behaviors @ @ @ @ @ @ @ suggests invoking a shared commitment to a healthier democracy , such as , “ I ’ m worried that maybe this is a deliberate tactic to try and make us angry , or to divide us , or to confuse us.
” Correcting false content online is nonpartisan action .
It requires everyone ’ s vigilance , as we can all fall prey to our emotions , confirmation bias , and other mental shortcuts .
As Dr. Fazio says , “ It ’ s not a Republican problem , it ’ s not @ @ @ @ @ @ @ of us.
” Hone your verification skills with resources from First Draft News , MediaWise , the Shorenstein Center , and PEN America ’ s online training .

It’s not about saying “you’re wrong,” she says. “It’s about having empathy for why somebody might believe something.”
Finally, remember our social media posts are tied to our identities. That means attacking someone’s content can be perceived as a personal attack, says media scholar Claire Wardle.
When countering misinformation, it helps to offer credible sources, says Kathleen Carley, director of the Center for Informed Democracy & Social Cybersecurity at Carnegie Mellon University. “As opposed to just pointing out that something is wrong, provide an alternative,” she says.
First, it’s important to make sure that you have your own facts straight. Second, act fast. Research suggests that we’re more prone to believe information – even if false – that we’ve encountered more than once. Third, think about the impacts of reaching out publicly versus privately.
Nobody likes being wrong. But what if corrections came from someone you trust? Experts urge Americans to fight misinformation as a shared responsibility.
As tech companies and researchers continue working to thwart a range of “information disorder,” experts say that ordinary citizens can also play important roles in combating online untruths. Consider it a cyber civic duty.
If there’s anything that everyone across the political spectrum can agree on, it’s that misinformation is widespread. It’s easy to feel powerless, but there are ways that ordinary people can play a role in the solution.
This spring, Amber pored over Facebook posts as a self-appointed fact checker. She’d seen how the president’s remarks at an April news briefing became mangled through memes.
No, Donald Trump didn’t urge Americans to ward off the coronavirus by drinking bleach. (Fact-checks here.) But confusion over his speech spiraled out of context across websites, social media, and late-night comedy.
Amber, a human resources specialist from Crystal River, Florida, says she calmly commented on friends’ posts with a link to a video of the event for reference.
Why We Wrote This Nobody likes being wrong. But what if corrections came from someone you trust? Experts urge Americans to fight misinformation as a shared responsibility.
“I find that helps me not create an enemy with them,” says Amber, who asked to omit her last name because of her employer’s restrictions on speaking to the press. If she insults someone’s intelligence, she adds, “they’re just going to discount everything I said and also try to insult me back.”
About two-thirds of U.S. adults got their news from social media in 2018. Americans are more likely to share misinformation (inaccurate content shared unknowingly), rather than disinformation (inaccurate content shared to deceive), experts say. Both can deepen divisions in an already polarized society, and – at worst – inspire violence.
As tech companies and researchers continue working to thwart a range of “information disorder,” experts say citizens like Amber can also play important roles in combating misinformation – not just as critically minded consumers, but as concerned family and friends. Consider it a cyber civic duty.
“They can act as trusted messengers,” says Emma Margolin, senior research analyst at Data & Society.
Postelection, media scholar Claire Wardle hopes to see more emphasis on society-based strategies.
“Fundamentally, if none of us shared any of this stuff, then we wouldn’t have a problem,” says Dr. Wardle, co-founder and U.S. director of First Draft News. She notes that disinformation actors are powerless without us sharing their content: “We have to be part of the solution. We just haven’t had these conversations enough.”
PEN America, a nonprofit that advocates for writers and human rights, is among a growing group of organizations offering media literacy training. Its tip sheet on how to talk to acquaintances constructively about misinformation came in response to participants’ demand, says Nora Benavidez, director of PEN America’s U.S. Free Expression Programs.
“People are so hungry for permission to be empathetic,” says Ms. Benavidez, who wrote the tip sheet.
Of course, correcting your leftist ex or right-wing uncle can be awkward at best, and not every attempt will be a win. Here are some suggestions to start.
Fact-check first.
Is the post about that candidate actually false? Or does flattering coverage of them simply make your blood boil? Before confronting others, make sure your facts are straight – no matter your social media savvy.
“We need to [debunk] the myth that experts are never going to be victims, or believe in false or misleading content, because I absolutely have,” says Ms. Benavidez at PEN America. “That’s how insidious and potent disinformation is.”
Beware of partisan websites posing as unbiased news sources, as well as misleading headlines. Beyond sleuthing out the source, see if reputable fact-check websites have already verified the claim, like the Poynter Institute’s PolitiFact, The Washington Post Fact Checker, Snopes, or FactCheck.org. A simple reverse image search on Google may help verify images by determining their online origins.
Alert the platform early.
Correct misinformation and disinformation as early as possible. Experts encourage users to flag troubling posts on social media sites, which may remove the content. Again, the earlier the better – before the masses have been exposed to it, says Ms. Margolin at Data & Society.
If a platform removes flagged content after it goes viral, the act of removal could backfire as it “becomes its own story,” she adds. Users may accuse the platform of bias, or censorship of certain worldviews.
The “illusory truth effect” underscores the need to act fast: We’re more prone to believe information – even if false – that we’ve encountered more than once.
The effect holds true even when prior knowledge contradicts what we’re reading, psychologist Lisa Fazio’s research suggests. This impacts our experience online, where content proliferates.
“We’re seeing [misinformation] multiple times, and if we don’t do anything to stop it, that repetition will likely increase our belief,” says Dr. Fazio, assistant professor of psychology at Vanderbilt University.
Public or private outreach? Consider context.
Whether to confront your doom-scrolling Facebook friend publicly or privately about his problematic post requires some thought. Research suggests that observing others’ public correction can reduce misperceptions.
Yet due to the way social media algorithms work, publicly engaging with a post can actually amplify its false or misleading content. Public call-outs may also be seen as shaming. As PEN America’s tip sheet notes: “If something was just posted, you might try sending a private note politely pointing out that it’s incorrect.”
If you’re craving technique, consider the “truth sandwich” from linguist George Lakoff. Lead with the truth, point out the lie, then conclude with the truth, so that correct information is most memorable.
It also helps to offer credible sources, says Kathleen Carley, director of the Center for Informed Democracy & Social Cybersecurity at Carnegie Mellon University. “As opposed to just pointing out that something is wrong, provide an alternative,” she says.
Lead with empathy.
Our social media posts are tied to our identities. That means attacking someone’s content can be perceived as a personal attack, says Dr. Wardle of First Draft News. That could make them double down.
“It’s about having empathy for why somebody might believe something … rather than saying ‘you’re wrong,’” says Dr. Wardle.
In lieu of lecturing, empathetic outreach could focus on a user’s online actions or behaviors rather than their content. Dr. Wardle suggests invoking a shared commitment to a healthier democracy, such as, “I’m worried that maybe this is a deliberate tactic to try and make us angry, or to divide us, or to confuse us.”
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Correcting false content online is nonpartisan action. It requires everyone’s vigilance, as we can all fall prey to our emotions, confirmation bias, and other mental shortcuts. As Dr. Fazio says, “It’s not a Republican problem, it’s not a Democrat problem ... it affects all of us.”
Hone your verification skills with resources from First Draft News, MediaWise, the Shorenstein Center, and PEN America’s online training.


csmonitor--2020-11-03--Can friendship be bipartisan? Ask the Janets.

“ Jan and I are some of the few people who kind of keep working this .
A lot of people are like – forget it , ” says Dr. Breslin , who chairs her local Democratic committee in New Hampshire .
“ We keep trying to convince each other.
” Yet through their ongoing discussions , they illustrate how two people can withstand the centrifugal pull of partisanship , gaining a deeper understanding of each other ’ s political views – even as they still wrestle with key issues and the man up for reelection today .
Janet Nelson @ @ @ @ @ @ @ , admires how President Donald Trump stands up for America internationally and bucks political conventions at home .
Janet Breslin , a Democrat who lived through the 1973 coup in Chile and joined her husband when he served as President Barack Obama ’ s ambassador to Saudi Arabia , worries that Mr. Trump exhibits strongman tendencies .
Since joining the same sorority at the University of Southern California in the 1960s , they have navigated more than half a century of friendship as their careers , life experiences , and ZIP codes have @ @ @ @ @ @ @ different directions .
How will we ever be able to discuss politics with those who voted on the opposite side today ?
Ask the Janets .
“ I am prepared to give Trump the benefit of many doubts.
” It was Thanksgiving weekend 2016 , and amid visiting with grandchildren at her lakeside New Hampshire home , Janet Breslin had just found a few quiet moments to reflect on the recent election in an email to Janet Nelson , one of her sorority sisters , in sun-christened California .
The two had met @ @ @ @ @ @ @ the 1960s when some guys from a nearby town had recently launched the Beach Boys , “ The Endless Summer ” felt like a neighborhood documentary , and everything was looking up in the Golden State .
One an international relations major , the other studying art , they bonded over building a papier-mâché volcano for sorority pledge week .
It was the beginning of a lifelong friendship that would buoy them through personal crisis and political upheaval .
They shared similar backgrounds : Each had roots in the Midwest , devout Christian @ @ @ @ @ @ @ mothers .
Yet their outlooks diverged dramatically as they settled on separate coasts .
So when the U.S. political scene erupted with the election of Donald Trump as president , the two Janets had much to discuss – and disagree about .
Dr. Breslin , a Democrat who had lived through the 1973 military coup in Chile , taught at the National War College , and represented the United States alongside her husband when he was appointed ambassador to Saudi Arabia under President Barack Obama , was not immediately dismissive .
But she @ @ @ @ @ @ @ laid out for Mrs. Nelson .
“ I can debate his policy positions ... but the chants and his own style and use of his wealth worry me , ” she wrote in an email .
Mrs. Nelson , for her part , supported Mr. Trump in 2016 and still does today .
An independent voter and business owner , she admires how Mr. Trump stands up for America internationally and bucks political conventions at home .
She also likes that he ’ s not a career politician like Joe Biden .
“ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ up the swamp – I do , too , ” she says , though she dislikes the way the president talks and wishes he would be a better role model .
On the eve of arguably one of the most consequential elections in U.S. history , the two Janets tell a story of America in a divided age .
Many people across the country who hold opposing views have found it difficult to preserve their relationships with friends , family , and even spouses .
Some have cut off ties with acquaintances altogether @ @ @ @ @ @ @ or reached an uneasy peace by tacitly agreeing not to discuss politics .
Forget about holding a thoughtful conversation about issues convulsing the republic .
A 2019 study revealed that fully 20 % of Americans have experienced damage to a friendship as a result of political differences – and that ’ s based on data collected only a few months into President Trump ’ s administration .
The Janets , however , have navigated more than half a century of friendship as their careers , life experiences , and ZIP codes have caused @ @ @ @ @ @ @ directions .
Over that time , the U.S. has seen a dramatic increase in polarization – more than many other major democracies .
One 2020 study from Brown University attributes this to partisan cable news outlets and a political realignment over the past 50 years along racial and religious lines , which have resulted not only in greater differences between Democrats and Republicans ideologically but also in terms of identity .
Yet Dr. Breslin and Mrs. Nelson illustrate how two people can withstand the centrifugal pull of politics .
Over more than half @ @ @ @ @ @ @ , they offer insight into how they ’ ve preserved their friendship – and gained a deeper understanding of each other ’ s political views – even as they still wrestle with key issues and the man up for reelection on Nov. 3 .
While political disagreements , at times heated , have contributed to Dr. Breslin falling out of touch with other sorority sisters , she and Mrs. Nelson have maintained a strong bond .
“ I don ’ t ever remember Jan and I ever being mad at each other about @ @ @ @ @ @ @ Mrs. Nelson .
As the nation goes to the polls during one of the most fractious moments in history , the two Janets offer a template for how a country can disagree civilly .
Going to the University of Southern California was “ like going to Mars ” for Mrs. Nelson .
Her parents came from Nebraska , where her grandfather was known to wrestle bears when the circus was in town to make an extra $ 50 .
In the hardscrabble farming community of Naponee , only one of his children made @ @ @ @ @ @ @ ’ s father .
Her other grandfather had a stack of National Geographic magazines in his closet and a mind full of poems , which he would recite to little Janet as she followed him around the farm on extended visits .
She and her cousins would jump into bins of cool corn kernels on hot days or play in the nearby stockyards and pretend to auction off the littlest kids and herd them into chutes .
Her parents settled in California and started a mobile home business .
Their hard work paid @ @ @ @ @ @ @ went on to become one of the biggest West Coast dealers of mobile homes and would come back to visit Naponee in a shiny new Cadillac .
But otherwise their life was modest , revolving around their Lutheran community , made up of bedrock people – plumbers , car salesmen , and insurance agents .
By the time Mrs. Nelson entered USC , she didn ’ t know anybody who had been to college but her doctor , her pastor , and teachers in her Lutheran high school .
“ I didn ’ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ did , ” says Mrs. Nelson .
“ He said , ‘ You ’ re going to go to the best school I can afford.
’ ” At USC , she would meet another Janet with roots in the Midwest .
Dr. Breslin was born in St. Louis , the oldest grandchild of Main Street Republicans .
Her mother ’ s father was a civic booster who , apart from his beloved Oldsmobiles , put his money into supporting local projects like building a baseball field .
Her father ’ s mother went @ @ @ @ @ @ @ as a young mother during the Depression , she started a boarding house after her husband died , bringing in enough income to support her four children .
In seventh grade , Dr. Breslin ’ s parents moved to Gardena , in Southern California , where her parents were active in their local Christian Science church .
Her mother worked as a high school math teacher , and her father managed a savings and loan .
He was a stalwart Republican .
When President Richard Nixon was impeached and forced to resign over @ @ @ @ @ @ @ to welcome him back to California .
She grew up thinking of Democrats as union people – and different from her .
Then John F. Kennedy burst onto the national stage .
He was “ handsome as could be , ” and in her eyes represented youth and the future .
“ If I could vote , I would vote for Kennedy , ” Dr. Breslin recalls telling her mother while watching the Democratic convention in the summer of 1960 .
“ I felt like we were on a roll , ” she @ @ @ @ @ @ @ go to the moon .
It was a good time to be alive.
” Dr. Breslin liked Mrs. Nelson the first time they met .
She was fun but also sensible .
She was creative – something Dr. Breslin admired because she wasn ’ t particularly creative herself .
They quickly bonded and found in each other the sister neither of them had ever had .
After graduating from college , the two took different paths .
Mrs. Nelson moved to Colorado to complete her student teaching , and her sorority sister went @ @ @ @ @ @ @ science at the University of California , Los Angeles .
Dr. Breslin then moved to Chile for a year with her husband .
They lived through the 1973 military coup orchestrated by Augusto Pinochet that led to the torture , disappearance , and execution of thousands of Chileans over 17 years .
“ Rule of law went away .
Congress went away .
Newspapers closed .
The government implemented the use of torture , ” says Dr. Breslin , who came away from the experience with an acute sense that liberty is fragile @ @ @ @ @ @ @ , the depths of action are almost unlimited.
” Dr. Breslin had a hard time conveying the brutality of what she saw in Chile to people in carefree California when she returned home .
“ I felt the same way when I came back from Austria , ” says Mrs. Nelson , referring to a University of Vienna program she participated in , during which she lived with an Austrian woman who had been forced to share her one-bedroom home with a Russian military family after World War II .
“ To have @ @ @ @ @ @ @ be on the other side of the Iron Curtain ... how do you explain that to somebody who is in college in California with the Beach Boys ?
” Dr. Breslin decided to get a job on Capitol Hill to help keep America ’ s democratic system strong .
She worked for a series of Democratic senators , focusing in part on a rising issue at the time – immigration .
Back in California , Mrs. Nelson was dealing with the same issue in a different way .
She was on the front @ @ @ @ @ @ @ .
On Dr. Breslin ’ s visits to California , she would ask who would work in the agricultural fields if not immigrants .
But Mrs. Nelson , who taught art and then went on to work in special education after getting a master ’ s degree , told her friend that many of her low-income students couldn ’ t get jobs .
The entry-level positions were being taken by immigrants who had crossed the border illegally .
And families from Mexico and Central America who had gone through the legalization process were @ @ @ @ @ @ @ immigration .
“ In California , we ’ ve had a huge problem forever , which Jan didn ’ t really understand .
She still thought of California as being like when she was growing up here , ” says Mrs. Nelson , who taught at a high school in Westminster where students spoke 27 languages .
“ But it had started to change .
She just didn ’ t have a clear picture of what we were going through.
” During one memorable lunch , one of their other sorority sisters told @ @ @ @ @ @ @ her beach town against the influx of immigrants .
“ She sounded like a Bosnian , talking about it .
I ’ m speaking lightly of it , but that ’ s a powerful feeling , ” says Dr. Breslin , who says her time in Saudi Arabia gave her a greater understanding of how powerful culture can be , especially when people feel it ’ s being invaded .
“ I stand in respect for how powerful those feelings are .
And I didn ’ t respect it at the time , @ @ @ @ @ @ @ ” But even as the two Janets ’ political views were moving in different directions , when personal crises struck , they turned to each other .
At one point , Dr. Breslin confided in her sorority sister about the dissolution of her marriage , which left her with a baby , a 4-year-old , and a demanding job in a fast-paced and at times unforgiving Washington , D.C. Mrs. Nelson could relate to her ordeal .
Her husband , who had been her high school sweetheart , had come home one day @ @ @ @ @ @ @ announced , “ I don ’ t want to be a father , and I don ’ t want to be married , and I don ’ t want to be here.
” He packed a suitcase and left .
She says she was totally blindsided .
“ So that ’ s a powerful thing to share with each other , ” says Dr. Breslin .
Decades later , their devotion to each other remains strong .
“ If I have a personal problem , Jan is going to be the first person @ @ @ @ @ @ @ , ” says Mrs. Nelson .
The closest their relationship ever got to a breaking point was over a series of chain letters .
Mrs. Nelson would frequently forward to Dr. Breslin emails she got that included false information and breathless assertions in all-caps , setting off a flurry of frank exchanges .
Bill Clinton wants to take away all your guns , claimed one .
“ I would dutifully do research and go , ‘ Janet , President Clinton does not want to take away your guns , ’ ” says Dr. @ @ @ @ @ @ @ , I would do all this research.
” Another chain message , with the subject line “ Good Info , ” asked whether a series of statistics were about the NBA or the NFL : 14 have been arrested on drug-related charges ; 8 have been arrested for shoplifting ; 21 currently are defendants in lawsuits .
And 84 have been arrested for drunken driving in the last year .
“ Can you guess which organization this is ?
” it asked .
“ Give up yet ?
Neither , it ’ s @ @ @ @ @ @ @ Congress .
The same group of Idiots that crank out hundreds of new laws each year designed to keep the rest of us in line.
” Dr. Breslin ’ s reply was brief this time .
“ No no no.
” She saw in the emails a troubling pattern of undermining trust in America ’ s democratic institutions .
Then came the emails claiming that Mr. Obama ’ s birth certificate from a hospital in Hawaii was inauthentic – a topic Mrs. Nelson took particular interest in since she , too , had @ @ @ @ @ @ @ had helped recover the bodies of American soldiers after the Japanese attack on Pearl Harbor .
“ It made me really sad that Jan would believe that , ” says Dr. Breslin , who continued to refute such emails .
“ Jan is a reasonable , thoughtful , smart woman .
But whatever I did had no impact .
None.
” Mrs. Nelson disagrees , emphasizing how much she valued her friend as a sounding board .
“ One of the reasons I sent you the chain mails that I was getting , @ @ @ @ @ @ @ interview , “ is because I respect hugely your political knowledge and also to have you see what ’ s happening with our friendships and the things we ’ re dealing with on our end of the world.
” Mrs. Nelson would sometimes share Dr. Breslin ’ s responses with mutual friends who had forwarded her the emails .
Indeed , as frustrating as such exchanges have been at times , they have pushed both women to better understand the other ’ s point of view .
“ What I thought about and @ @ @ @ @ @ @ is what are those things that were touching something deep in [ you ] , either your experience by teaching in the LA city schools or that you saw culturally happening in Los Angeles that I needed to be more attentive to ?
” asks Dr. Breslin .
She was gaining a better appreciation for why some people in California were so resentful of the latest surge in immigration .
She wasn ’ t surprised when Mr. Trump made it such a central part of his campaign in 2016 .
“ He has @ @ @ @ @ @ @ admits .
His tough stance on immigration is one of the things that first resonated with Mrs. Nelson .
“ When I look at our president and the things that he does – it irritates the heck out of me , but at the same time , I appreciate him being firm in ways that other presidents were lax , ” says Mrs. Nelson , who runs an oral hygiene education company , Toothfairy Island , whose materials are used in schools across the U.S. as well as in a number of other @ @ @ @ @ @ @ more firmness.
” At Dr. Breslin ’ s urging , Mrs. Nelson researched more than two dozen Democratic candidates running for president early in the 2020 campaign to see if she could support any of them .
But she found that none was willing to put what she considered meaningful boundaries on abortion , which was a deal breaker for her .
As someone who lost two children to miscarriages , she says she would never want any other mother to hurt the way she did , ending up without that child .
@ @ @ @ @ @ @ else to go through that pain and regret , ” says Mrs. Nelson .
“ Especially when they ’ re young and they make decisions , they don ’ t really understand the impact it has on them.
” For Dr. Breslin , who now attends a Lutheran church and chairs her local Democratic committee , the challenges of the Trump era go beyond personality to an erosion of founding principles and shared values .
She worries he could destroy the delicate balance of power designed by the framers to prevent tyranny .
@ @ @ @ @ @ @ Trump .
It ’ s what he has touched in people that made them abandon the values I thought we were all raised with , ” says Dr. Breslin , who describes deep anger and a gradual toughening – on both sides of the aisle .
“ I think we ’ re both addicted to it , or stuck .
We ’ re in a rut .
A dangerous rut.
” Across the nation , that polarization is not only affecting personal relationships , but also dividing communities and professions , says Dr. @ @ @ @ @ @ @ Trump is exacerbating those divisions by caricaturing people like her .
“ He ’ s telling people ... [ Janet ] hates this , and she ’ s against this , and she ’ s a lefty , and all these things – and I feel like saying , ‘ No I ’ m not , ’ ” says Dr. Breslin .
“ I don ’ t hate [ Mr. Trump ] at all , but I really , truly believe he feels it ’ s useful to hate me.
” Mrs. Nelson @ @ @ @ @ @ @ to play into such rhetoric .
“ What keeps me going and being hopeful always is I believe that God is in charge , ” she says .
Even so , neither of them plans to stop sending missives about policies and politicians they see differently .
“ Jan and I are some of the few people who kind of keep working this .
A lot of people are like – forget it , ” says Dr. Breslin .
“ We keep trying to convince each other .
”

“Jan and I are some of the few people who kind of keep working this. A lot of people are like – forget it,” says Dr. Breslin, who chairs her local Democratic committee in New Hampshire. “We keep trying to convince each other.”
Yet through their ongoing discussions, they illustrate how two people can withstand the centrifugal pull of partisanship, gaining a deeper understanding of each other’s political views – even as they still wrestle with key issues and the man up for reelection today.
Janet Nelson, an independent voter and business owner, admires how President Donald Trump stands up for America internationally and bucks political conventions at home. Janet Breslin, a Democrat who lived through the 1973 coup in Chile and joined her husband when he served as President Barack Obama’s ambassador to Saudi Arabia, worries that Mr. Trump exhibits strongman tendencies.
As the nation goes to the polls during one of the most fractious moments in U.S. history, two longtime friends who are ideological opposites show how a country can disagree with civility and respect.
Since joining the same sorority at the University of Southern California in the 1960s, they have navigated more than half a century of friendship as their careers, life experiences, and ZIP codes have caused their political viewpoints to evolve in different directions.
How will we ever be able to discuss politics with those who voted on the opposite side today? Ask the Janets.
“I am prepared to give Trump the benefit of many doubts.”
It was Thanksgiving weekend 2016, and amid visiting with grandchildren at her lakeside New Hampshire home, Janet Breslin had just found a few quiet moments to reflect on the recent election in an email to Janet Nelson, one of her sorority sisters, in sun-christened California.
The two had met at the University of Southern California in the 1960s when some guys from a nearby town had recently launched the Beach Boys, “The Endless Summer” felt like a neighborhood documentary, and everything was looking up in the Golden State.
Why We Wrote This A story focused on Respect As the nation goes to the polls during one of the most fractious moments in U.S. history, two longtime friends who are ideological opposites show how a country can disagree with civility and respect.
One an international relations major, the other studying art, they bonded over building a papier-mâché volcano for sorority pledge week. It was the beginning of a lifelong friendship that would buoy them through personal crisis and political upheaval. They shared similar backgrounds: Each had roots in the Midwest, devout Christian parents, and similar arcs as young mothers. Yet their outlooks diverged dramatically as they settled on separate coasts.
So when the U.S. political scene erupted with the election of Donald Trump as president, the two Janets had much to discuss – and disagree about. Dr. Breslin, a Democrat who had lived through the 1973 military coup in Chile, taught at the National War College, and represented the United States alongside her husband when he was appointed ambassador to Saudi Arabia under President Barack Obama, was not immediately dismissive.
But she had a number of concerns that she laid out for Mrs. Nelson. “I can debate his policy positions ... but the chants and his own style and use of his wealth worry me,” she wrote in an email.
Mrs. Nelson, for her part, supported Mr. Trump in 2016 and still does today. An independent voter and business owner, she admires how Mr. Trump stands up for America internationally and bucks political conventions at home. She also likes that he’s not a career politician like Joe Biden.
“When Trump says he wants to clean up the swamp – I do, too,” she says, though she dislikes the way the president talks and wishes he would be a better role model.
On the eve of arguably one of the most consequential elections in U.S. history, the two Janets tell a story of America in a divided age.
Many people across the country who hold opposing views have found it difficult to preserve their relationships with friends, family, and even spouses. Some have cut off ties with acquaintances altogether. Others have unfriended people on Facebook or reached an uneasy peace by tacitly agreeing not to discuss politics. Forget about holding a thoughtful conversation about issues convulsing the republic.
A 2019 study revealed that fully 20% of Americans have experienced damage to a friendship as a result of political differences – and that’s based on data collected only a few months into President Trump’s administration.
The Janets, however, have navigated more than half a century of friendship as their careers, life experiences, and ZIP codes have caused their political viewpoints to evolve in different directions.
Over that time, the U.S. has seen a dramatic increase in polarization – more than many other major democracies. One 2020 study from Brown University attributes this to partisan cable news outlets and a political realignment over the past 50 years along racial and religious lines, which have resulted not only in greater differences between Democrats and Republicans ideologically but also in terms of identity.
Yet Dr. Breslin and Mrs. Nelson illustrate how two people can withstand the centrifugal pull of politics. Over more than half a dozen lengthy conversations with the Monitor, they offer insight into how they’ve preserved their friendship – and gained a deeper understanding of each other’s political views – even as they still wrestle with key issues and the man up for reelection on Nov. 3. While political disagreements, at times heated, have contributed to Dr. Breslin falling out of touch with other sorority sisters, she and Mrs. Nelson have maintained a strong bond.
“I don’t ever remember Jan and I ever being mad at each other about our different political views,” says Mrs. Nelson.
As the nation goes to the polls during one of the most fractious moments in history, the two Janets offer a template for how a country can disagree civilly.
Courtesy of Janet Nelson View caption Hide caption Janet Breslin (back row, left) and Janet Nelson (next to her) pose with sisters from their sorority who put on a skit from “South Pacific” during pledge week at the University of Southern California in the 1960s.
“A good time to be alive”
Going to the University of Southern California was “like going to Mars” for Mrs. Nelson. Her parents came from Nebraska, where her grandfather was known to wrestle bears when the circus was in town to make an extra $50. In the hardscrabble farming community of Naponee, only one of his children made it past eighth grade – Mrs. Nelson’s father.
Her other grandfather had a stack of National Geographic magazines in his closet and a mind full of poems, which he would recite to little Janet as she followed him around the farm on extended visits. She and her cousins would jump into bins of cool corn kernels on hot days or play in the nearby stockyards and pretend to auction off the littlest kids and herd them into chutes.
Her parents settled in California and started a mobile home business. Their hard work paid off: Mrs. Nelson’s father went on to become one of the biggest West Coast dealers of mobile homes and would come back to visit Naponee in a shiny new Cadillac. But otherwise their life was modest, revolving around their Lutheran community, made up of bedrock people – plumbers, car salesmen, and insurance agents. By the time Mrs. Nelson entered USC, she didn’t know anybody who had been to college but her doctor, her pastor, and teachers in her Lutheran high school.
“I didn’t apply to college; my dad did,” says Mrs. Nelson. “He said, ‘You’re going to go to the best school I can afford.’”
At USC, she would meet another Janet with roots in the Midwest. Dr. Breslin was born in St. Louis, the oldest grandchild of Main Street Republicans. Her mother’s father was a civic booster who, apart from his beloved Oldsmobiles, put his money into supporting local projects like building a baseball field.
Her father’s mother went by the name Honey Bunch. Widowed as a young mother during the Depression, she started a boarding house after her husband died, bringing in enough income to support her four children.
In seventh grade, Dr. Breslin’s parents moved to Gardena, in Southern California, where her parents were active in their local Christian Science church. Her mother worked as a high school math teacher, and her father managed a savings and loan. He was a stalwart Republican. When President Richard Nixon was impeached and forced to resign over Watergate, he went to the airport to welcome him back to California.
She grew up thinking of Democrats as union people – and different from her. Then John F. Kennedy burst onto the national stage. He was “handsome as could be,” and in her eyes represented youth and the future.
“If I could vote, I would vote for Kennedy,” Dr. Breslin recalls telling her mother while watching the Democratic convention in the summer of 1960.
“I felt like we were on a roll,” she says. “We were going to go to the moon. It was a good time to be alive.”
A powerful bond
Dr. Breslin liked Mrs. Nelson the first time they met. She was fun but also sensible. She was creative – something Dr. Breslin admired because she wasn’t particularly creative herself. They quickly bonded and found in each other the sister neither of them had ever had.
After graduating from college, the two took different paths. Mrs. Nelson moved to Colorado to complete her student teaching, and her sorority sister went on to get a Ph.D. in political science at the University of California, Los Angeles. Dr. Breslin then moved to Chile for a year with her husband. They lived through the 1973 military coup orchestrated by Augusto Pinochet that led to the torture, disappearance, and execution of thousands of Chileans over 17 years.
Courtesy of Janet Breslin View caption Hide caption Janet Breslin (middle) and her husband, James B. Smith, then-ambassador to Saudi Arabia, hold a traditional Saudi-style gathering in the desert in 2012.
“Rule of law went away. Congress went away. Newspapers closed. The government implemented the use of torture,” says Dr. Breslin, who came away from the experience with an acute sense that liberty is fragile. “Without the constraints of law, the depths of action are almost unlimited.”
Dr. Breslin had a hard time conveying the brutality of what she saw in Chile to people in carefree California when she returned home.
“I felt the same way when I came back from Austria,” says Mrs. Nelson, referring to a University of Vienna program she participated in, during which she lived with an Austrian woman who had been forced to share her one-bedroom home with a Russian military family after World War II. “To have her describe what it was like to be on the other side of the Iron Curtain ... how do you explain that to somebody who is in college in California with the Beach Boys?”
Dr. Breslin decided to get a job on Capitol Hill to help keep America’s democratic system strong. She worked for a series of Democratic senators, focusing in part on a rising issue at the time – immigration.
Back in California, Mrs. Nelson was dealing with the same issue in a different way. She was on the front lines of Hispanic immigration in public schools. On Dr. Breslin’s visits to California, she would ask who would work in the agricultural fields if not immigrants.
But Mrs. Nelson, who taught art and then went on to work in special education after getting a master’s degree, told her friend that many of her low-income students couldn’t get jobs. The entry-level positions were being taken by immigrants who had crossed the border illegally. And families from Mexico and Central America who had gone through the legalization process were adamantly opposed to the surge in illegal immigration.
“In California, we’ve had a huge problem forever, which Jan didn’t really understand. She still thought of California as being like when she was growing up here,” says Mrs. Nelson, who taught at a high school in Westminster where students spoke 27 languages. “But it had started to change. She just didn’t have a clear picture of what we were going through.”
During one memorable lunch, one of their other sorority sisters told Dr. Breslin she was prepared to defend her beach town against the influx of immigrants.
“She sounded like a Bosnian, talking about it. I’m speaking lightly of it, but that’s a powerful feeling,” says Dr. Breslin, who says her time in Saudi Arabia gave her a greater understanding of how powerful culture can be, especially when people feel it’s being invaded. “I stand in respect for how powerful those feelings are. And I didn’t respect it at the time, because I didn’t understand it.”
But even as the two Janets’ political views were moving in different directions, when personal crises struck, they turned to each other. At one point, Dr. Breslin confided in her sorority sister about the dissolution of her marriage, which left her with a baby, a 4-year-old, and a demanding job in a fast-paced and at times unforgiving Washington, D.C.
Mrs. Nelson could relate to her ordeal. Her husband, who had been her high school sweetheart, had come home one day and, as she recalls it, announced, “I don’t want to be a father, and I don’t want to be married, and I don’t want to be here.” He packed a suitcase and left. She says she was totally blindsided.
“So that’s a powerful thing to share with each other,” says Dr. Breslin.
Decades later, their devotion to each other remains strong. “If I have a personal problem, Jan is going to be the first person I’m going to talk to,” says Mrs. Nelson.
Melanie Stetson Freeman/Staff View caption Hide caption Janet Breslin, who has been friends with Janet Nelson for 50-plus years, sits with her dog, Oliver, in her yard in Salem, New Hampshire, on Sept. 28, 2020.
Tough conversations
The closest their relationship ever got to a breaking point was over a series of chain letters. Mrs. Nelson would frequently forward to Dr. Breslin emails she got that included false information and breathless assertions in all-caps, setting off a flurry of frank exchanges.
Bill Clinton wants to take away all your guns, claimed one. “I would dutifully do research and go, ‘Janet, President Clinton does not want to take away your guns,’” says Dr. Breslin. “Whatever the rumor was, I would do all this research.”
Another chain message, with the subject line “Good Info,” asked whether a series of statistics were about the NBA or the NFL:
14 have been arrested on drug-related charges; 8 have been arrested for shoplifting; 21 currently are defendants in lawsuits. And 84 have been arrested for drunken driving in the last year. “Can you guess which organization this is?” it asked. “Give up yet? Neither, it’s the 535 members of the United States Congress. The same group of Idiots that crank out hundreds of new laws each year designed to keep the rest of us in line.”
Dr. Breslin’s reply was brief this time. “No no no.” She saw in the emails a troubling pattern of undermining trust in America’s democratic institutions.
Then came the emails claiming that Mr. Obama’s birth certificate from a hospital in Hawaii was inauthentic – a topic Mrs. Nelson took particular interest in since she, too, had been born in Hawaii. Her father had helped recover the bodies of American soldiers after the Japanese attack on Pearl Harbor.
“It made me really sad that Jan would believe that,” says Dr. Breslin, who continued to refute such emails. “Jan is a reasonable, thoughtful, smart woman. But whatever I did had no impact. None.”
Mrs. Nelson disagrees, emphasizing how much she valued her friend as a sounding board. “One of the reasons I sent you the chain mails that I was getting,” says Mrs. Nelson in a joint interview, “is because I respect hugely your political knowledge and also to have you see what’s happening with our friendships and the things we’re dealing with on our end of the world.” Mrs. Nelson would sometimes share Dr. Breslin’s responses with mutual friends who had forwarded her the emails.
Indeed, as frustrating as such exchanges have been at times, they have pushed both women to better understand the other’s point of view.
“What I thought about and I’m still thinking about ... is what are those things that were touching something deep in [you], either your experience by teaching in the LA city schools or that you saw culturally happening in Los Angeles that I needed to be more attentive to?” asks Dr. Breslin.
She was gaining a better appreciation for why some people in California were so resentful of the latest surge in immigration. She wasn’t surprised when Mr. Trump made it such a central part of his campaign in 2016. “He has great political instincts,” Dr. Breslin admits.
His tough stance on immigration is one of the things that first resonated with Mrs. Nelson. “When I look at our president and the things that he does – it irritates the heck out of me, but at the same time, I appreciate him being firm in ways that other presidents were lax,” says Mrs. Nelson, who runs an oral hygiene education company, Toothfairy Island, whose materials are used in schools across the U.S. as well as in a number of other countries. “I think we need more firmness.”
Ann Hermes/Staff View caption Hide caption Janet Nelson, owner of an oral hygiene education company, stands in a park near her home in San Luis Obispo, California, on Oct. 7, 2020.
At Dr. Breslin’s urging, Mrs. Nelson researched more than two dozen Democratic candidates running for president early in the 2020 campaign to see if she could support any of them. But she found that none was willing to put what she considered meaningful boundaries on abortion, which was a deal breaker for her. As someone who lost two children to miscarriages, she says she would never want any other mother to hurt the way she did, ending up without that child.
“You don’t want anyone else to go through that pain and regret,” says Mrs. Nelson. “Especially when they’re young and they make decisions, they don’t really understand the impact it has on them.”
For Dr. Breslin, who now attends a Lutheran church and chairs her local Democratic committee, the challenges of the Trump era go beyond personality to an erosion of founding principles and shared values. She worries he could destroy the delicate balance of power designed by the framers to prevent tyranny.
“It’s not just President Trump. It’s what he has touched in people that made them abandon the values I thought we were all raised with,” says Dr. Breslin, who describes deep anger and a gradual toughening – on both sides of the aisle. “I think we’re both addicted to it, or stuck. We’re in a rut. A dangerous rut.”
Across the nation, that polarization is not only affecting personal relationships, but also dividing communities and professions, says Dr. Breslin. And she feels that President Trump is exacerbating those divisions by caricaturing people like her.
“He’s telling people ... [Janet] hates this, and she’s against this, and she’s a lefty, and all these things – and I feel like saying, ‘No I’m not,’” says Dr. Breslin. “I don’t hate [Mr. Trump] at all, but I really, truly believe he feels it’s useful to hate me.”
Mrs. Nelson, for her part, has refused to play into such rhetoric. “What keeps me going and being hopeful always is I believe that God is in charge,” she says.
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Even so, neither of them plans to stop sending missives about policies and politicians they see differently.
“Jan and I are some of the few people who kind of keep working this. A lot of people are like – forget it,” says Dr. Breslin. “We keep trying to convince each other.”


csmonitor--2020-11-05--Racial equity and the pandemic: How a collegiate football player is tackling both

“ It ’ s not something I ever truly thought I would be a part of , ” he says , “ but ... something needs to happen to create more success for college athletes who are putting their bodies and their health on the line.
” Among them is Mr. Hobbs , who is rallying against racial injustice in sports , standing up for players ’ health and well-being , and advocating for Black Lives Matter helmet stickers and uniform patches .
On campuses across the United States , football players and other athletes are embracing a new activism @ @ @ @ @ @ @ and proposing solutions – many of them feeling empowered to speak out for the first time , experts say .
For Dallas Hobbs , defensive lineman at Washington State University , the call to action was sparked by a text message in June from his friend Dylan Boles , a defensive end for Stanford University .
The exchanges that followed led to a movement to help collegiate players , many of whom are Black , fight for better pandemic safety protocols .
Washington State University defensive lineman Dallas Hobbs walks through a vast @ @ @ @ @ @ @ Pullman , a quiet college town surrounded by golden fields of freshly cut spring wheat , on his day off from the Cougars ’ football practice .
“ Hey , coach !
” he greets WSU head football coach Nick Rolovich in passing .
Then he steps into the empty WSU stadium and strides onto the turf at center field , recalling the night three years ago his team defeated the University of Southern California ( USC ) Trojans in overtime , and elated fans rushed the field .
“ It was pretty @ @ @ @ @ @ @ then a freshman , even though that celebration cost his team “ a big fine.
” Back then , by his own account , Mr. Hobbs ’ life revolved entirely around football and other sports – and still does to a degree .
This year ’ s delayed Pac-12 Conference football season will kick off Nov. 7 , and the 6-foot-6-inch , 285-pound junior says he ’ s raring to go .
But in sharp contrast to previous seasons , Mr. Hobbs has undergone a transformation in outlook that is shaping how he @ @ @ @ @ @ @ future .
For the first time in his life , he ’ s speaking out against racial injustice in sports , standing up for players ’ health and well-being , and advocating for Black Lives Matter helmet stickers and uniform patches .
“ It ’ s not something I ever truly thought I would be a part of , but ... something needs to happen to create more success for college athletes who are putting their bodies and their health on the line , ” says Mr. Hobbs .
The twin catalysts for @ @ @ @ @ @ @ pandemic , which starkly highlighted inadequate protections for college football players , the majority of whom at top levels are Black , and the killing in May of George Floyd , who was suffocated under the knee of a Minneapolis police officer .
“ The turning point was George Floyd , ” says Mr. Hobbs , wearing a black hooded sweatshirt he designed that says “ im human ” on the front .
“ It has totally changed my perspective on a lot of things , and is really changing the path I @ @ @ @ @ @ @ university campuses across the United States , football players and other athletes are embracing a new activism aimed at raising awareness of racial inequities and proposing solutions – many of them feeling empowered to speak out for the first time , experts say .
“ Student athletes have been inspired by the current movement for Black lives and racial justice , and it has been great to see more of them use their platforms , ” says Shaun Harper , professor of education and business at USC and executive director of the USC @ @ @ @ @ @ @ is the time for Black student athletes to know how much power they have , ” says Dr. Harper , an expert on racial issues in university athletics , “ and to leverage that power … in the interest of Black students overall.
” For Mr. Hobbs , the call to action was sparked by a text message in June from his friend Dylan Boles , a Stanford University football team defensive end .
The two men are both natives of Iowa , where Mr. Hobbs grew up in Cedar Rapids watching his @ @ @ @ @ @ @ and NFL football , compete in rugby .
“ I was always playing , no matter the season , ” he says .
“ Most of my life has been in sports.
” Family vacations often revolved around his sister ’ s basketball and volleyball tournaments .
His mother also played sports , and is such an avid booster of Mr. Hobbs that when he enrolled at WSU she relocated nearby so she could attend all his home games .
The text from Mr. Boles lit up Mr. Hobbs ’ phone at his @ @ @ @ @ @ @ starting , but it wasn ’ t about football .
It was about COVID-19 .
Soon , Mr. Hobbs found himself on regular Zoom calls with Mr. Boles and a growing contingent of Pac-12 football players , comparing notes on the uneven testing and safety precautions that threatened to put them at risk .
“ There was this inconsistency , and nothing was truly enforced , ” he says .
“ There were no safe standards to protect us.
” The players created an informal Pac-12 unity group with the hashtag # WeAreUnited @ @ @ @ @ @ @ of demands related to ensuring health and safety standards , assisted by allies such as Andrew Cooper , a former WSU cross-country runner working on his master ’ s thesis at the University of California , Berkeley , about racial injustice in college sports .
“ It opened my eyes , ” Mr. Hobbs recalls .
“ We put our bodies on the line every day , and we don ’ t know what the outcome is.
” Meanwhile , the college athlete activism was spreading nationwide .
A group of players from @ @ @ @ @ @ @ movement , and one of them , Trevor Lawrence , Clemson University ’ s national championship-winning quarterback , texted Mr. Hobbs about their plan to save the college football season .
In a Zoom call , the two groups decided to join forces .
They asked Mr. Hobbs , an honor roll student , to create a graphic of their demands .
A digital technology and culture major recognized last year for his 3.81 GPA by the College Sports Information Directors of America , Mr. Hobbs was well prepared for the task .
@ @ @ @ @ @ @ minutes to do it – racing to tweet it by midnight Aug. 9 , before anticipated decisions by football conferences about the season .
Mr. Hobbs ’ eye-catching graphic created a sensation the next day , publicizing key demands of athletes from the Power 5 football conferences : They wanted NCAA-wide policies to adopt common health and safety standards , allow players to opt out without losing eligibility , and give players a voice at the table through the establishment of a college football players association .
“ It was a big moment @ @ @ @ @ @ @ over a fruit smoothie and burrito outside a WSU cafe one recent fall afternoon .
His new activism has not come without pushback and pressures .
At one point in August , he thought he ’ d been dismissed from his team , although he says it was a misunderstanding and was quickly cleared up .
Still , he ’ s forging ahead , excited to combine his digital arts skills with advocacy – both for the football players and in his role as creative director of the WSU Black Student-Athlete Association .
@ @ @ @ @ @ @ he says .
Already , the NCAA met two of the player demands : requiring rigorous player COVID-19 testing and standard health protocols , and guaranteeing an additional year of eligibility .
“ We count that as a win , ” he says .
Yet Mr. Hobbs expects a long , tough fight for the weightier demands he ’ s advanced with other Pac-12 football players .
These include requests for six years of health insurance postgraduation , and that the Pac-12 channel 2 % of its revenue to aid low-income communities , @ @ @ @ @ @ @ “ generational wealth.
” “ We are grateful for what we do get , ” he says , “ but a lot of people come from backgrounds where their family is struggling to make ends meet – a lot of my teammates are on that spectrum , ” he says .
Training hard , wrapping up a double major , and preparing for graduate school and a career as a creative director , Mr. Hobbs is undeniably busy – but there ’ s no turning back on his newfound activism , he says @ @ @ @ @ @ @ be solved with this generation of athletes , ” he says , “ but if I can stand up and show we do have a lot of power , maybe down the road college athletes will have that voice to create change .
”

“It’s not something I ever truly thought I would be a part of,” he says, “but ... something needs to happen to create more success for college athletes who are putting their bodies and their health on the line.”
Among them is Mr. Hobbs, who is rallying against racial injustice in sports, standing up for players’ health and well-being, and advocating for Black Lives Matter helmet stickers and uniform patches.
What motivates people to take action? For one player at Washington State University, it was George Floyd’s death – and the call to help amateur athletes speak up about safety during the pandemic.
On campuses across the United States, football players and other athletes are embracing a new activism aimed at raising awareness of racial inequities and proposing solutions – many of them feeling empowered to speak out for the first time, experts say.
For Dallas Hobbs, defensive lineman at Washington State University, the call to action was sparked by a text message in June from his friend Dylan Boles, a defensive end for Stanford University. The exchanges that followed led to a movement to help collegiate players, many of whom are Black, fight for better pandemic safety protocols.
Washington State University defensive lineman Dallas Hobbs walks through a vast but largely deserted campus athletic complex in Pullman, a quiet college town surrounded by golden fields of freshly cut spring wheat, on his day off from the Cougars’ football practice.
“Hey, coach!” he greets WSU head football coach Nick Rolovich in passing. Then he steps into the empty WSU stadium and strides onto the turf at center field, recalling the night three years ago his team defeated the University of Southern California (USC) Trojans in overtime, and elated fans rushed the field.
“It was pretty exciting,” recalls Mr. Hobbs, then a freshman, even though that celebration cost his team “a big fine.”
Why We Wrote This What motivates people to take action? For one player at Washington State University, it was George Floyd’s death – and the call to help amateur athletes speak up about safety during the pandemic.
Back then, by his own account, Mr. Hobbs’ life revolved entirely around football and other sports – and still does to a degree. This year’s delayed Pac-12 Conference football season will kick off Nov. 7, and the 6-foot-6-inch, 285-pound junior says he’s raring to go.
But in sharp contrast to previous seasons, Mr. Hobbs has undergone a transformation in outlook that is shaping how he views football, school, and his future. For the first time in his life, he’s speaking out against racial injustice in sports, standing up for players’ health and well-being, and advocating for Black Lives Matter helmet stickers and uniform patches.
“It’s not something I ever truly thought I would be a part of, but ... something needs to happen to create more success for college athletes who are putting their bodies and their health on the line,” says Mr. Hobbs.
The twin catalysts for his awakening as an activist-athlete were the pandemic, which starkly highlighted inadequate protections for college football players, the majority of whom at top levels are Black, and the killing in May of George Floyd, who was suffocated under the knee of a Minneapolis police officer.
“The turning point was George Floyd,” says Mr. Hobbs, wearing a black hooded sweatshirt he designed that says “im human” on the front. “It has totally changed my perspective on a lot of things, and is really changing the path I am on now.”
On college and university campuses across the United States, football players and other athletes are embracing a new activism aimed at raising awareness of racial inequities and proposing solutions – many of them feeling empowered to speak out for the first time, experts say.
“Student athletes have been inspired by the current movement for Black lives and racial justice, and it has been great to see more of them use their platforms,” says Shaun Harper, professor of education and business at USC and executive director of the USC Race and Equity Center.
“Now is the time for Black student athletes to know how much power they have,” says Dr. Harper, an expert on racial issues in university athletics, “and to leverage that power … in the interest of Black students overall.”
For Mr. Hobbs, the call to action was sparked by a text message in June from his friend Dylan Boles, a Stanford University football team defensive end. The two men are both natives of Iowa, where Mr. Hobbs grew up in Cedar Rapids watching his father, a veteran of Iowa University and NFL football, compete in rugby.
Courtesy of WSU Athletics View caption Hide caption Dallas Hobbs (98), a defensive lineman for Washington State University, plays during a game against the University of Oregon in Eugene, Oregon, Oct. 29, 2019.
“I was always playing, no matter the season,” he says. “Most of my life has been in sports.” Family vacations often revolved around his sister’s basketball and volleyball tournaments. His mother also played sports, and is such an avid booster of Mr. Hobbs that when he enrolled at WSU she relocated nearby so she could attend all his home games.
The text from Mr. Boles lit up Mr. Hobbs’ phone at his Pullman apartment just as summer training was starting, but it wasn’t about football. It was about COVID-19. Soon, Mr. Hobbs found himself on regular Zoom calls with Mr. Boles and a growing contingent of Pac-12 football players, comparing notes on the uneven testing and safety precautions that threatened to put them at risk.
“There was this inconsistency, and nothing was truly enforced,” he says. “There were no safe standards to protect us.”
The players created an informal Pac-12 unity group with the hashtag #WeAreUnited, and in August released a list of demands related to ensuring health and safety standards, assisted by allies such as Andrew Cooper, a former WSU cross-country runner working on his master’s thesis at the University of California, Berkeley, about racial injustice in college sports.
“It opened my eyes,” Mr. Hobbs recalls. “We put our bodies on the line every day, and we don’t know what the outcome is.”
Meanwhile, the college athlete activism was spreading nationwide. A group of players from other conferences had launched a #WeWanttoPlay movement, and one of them, Trevor Lawrence, Clemson University’s national championship-winning quarterback, texted Mr. Hobbs about their plan to save the college football season.
In a Zoom call, the two groups decided to join forces. They asked Mr. Hobbs, an honor roll student, to create a graphic of their demands. A digital technology and culture major recognized last year for his 3.81 GPA by the College Sports Information Directors of America, Mr. Hobbs was well prepared for the task. The challenge? He only had 30 minutes to do it – racing to tweet it by midnight Aug. 9, before anticipated decisions by football conferences about the season.
Mr. Hobbs’ eye-catching graphic created a sensation the next day, publicizing key demands of athletes from the Power 5 football conferences: They wanted NCAA-wide policies to adopt common health and safety standards, allow players to opt out without losing eligibility, and give players a voice at the table through the establishment of a college football players association.
“It was a big moment,” says Mr. Hobbs, talking over a fruit smoothie and burrito outside a WSU cafe one recent fall afternoon.
His new activism has not come without pushback and pressures. At one point in August, he thought he’d been dismissed from his team, although he says it was a misunderstanding and was quickly cleared up.
Still, he’s forging ahead, excited to combine his digital arts skills with advocacy – both for the football players and in his role as creative director of the WSU Black Student-Athlete Association.
Progress so far has been encouraging, he says. Already, the NCAA met two of the player demands: requiring rigorous player COVID-19 testing and standard health protocols, and guaranteeing an additional year of eligibility. “We count that as a win,” he says.
Yet Mr. Hobbs expects a long, tough fight for the weightier demands he’s advanced with other Pac-12 football players. These include requests for six years of health insurance postgraduation, and that the Pac-12 channel 2% of its revenue to aid low-income communities, and 50% to players to build “generational wealth.”
“We are grateful for what we do get,” he says, “but a lot of people come from backgrounds where their family is struggling to make ends meet – a lot of my teammates are on that spectrum,” he says.
Training hard, wrapping up a double major, and preparing for graduate school and a career as a creative director, Mr. Hobbs is undeniably busy – but there’s no turning back on his newfound activism, he says.
“A lot won’t be solved with this generation of athletes,” he says, “but if I can stand up and show we do have a lot of power, maybe down the road college athletes will have that voice to create change.”


csmonitor--2020-11-05--One upside of a hard-fought election: Bumper crop of new voters

“ People are like , ‘ Why was there no blue wave ?
’ ” says Michael McDonald , who runs the U.S .
Elections Project at the University of Florida .
“ Well , there was one ; there was a red wave going at the same time.
” Despite a chaotic election week fraught with partisan tension , the voting on Tuesday had a major bright side : a rush of voters exercising their constitutional right for the first time .
It was fueled by Republicans and Democrats alike .
One state away in Ohio , Delaney Murphy @ @ @ @ @ @ @ students and first-time voters , brim with enthusiasm after casting their first-ever ballots for former Vice President Joe Biden .
“ I just never really thought voting was a big deal before , ” says Ms. Dausinger , with a shrug of her shoulders .
When people picture a first-time voter , it likely isn ’ t Shona Dausinger .
The middle-aged woman with a Paula Deen-style gray blowout walks toward her car from her polling location in Shrewsbury , Pennsylvania , with her husband , Jeff , after casting her first-ever ballot @ @ @ @ @ @ @ picture a first-time voter , it likely isn ’ t Shona Dausinger .
The middle-aged woman with a Paula Deen-style gray blowout walks toward her car from her polling location in Shrewsbury , Pennsylvania , with her husband , Jeff , after casting her first-ever ballot – for President Donald Trump .
“ I just never really thought voting was a big deal before , ” says Ms. Dausinger , with a shrug of her shoulders .
One state away in Ohio , Delaney Murphy and Allie Bingham , University of Cincinnati students @ @ @ @ @ @ @ after casting their first-ever ballots for former Vice President Joe Biden .
Despite a chaotic election week fraught with partisan tension , the voting on Tuesday had a major bright side : a rush of voters exercising their constitutional right for the first time .
Some estimates project that the final turnout will be more than 66 % of eligible voters , the highest rate in 120 years , with the 2020 turnout already exceeding 2016 ’ s turnout in 42 states – a sign of engagement by Republicans and Democrats alike .
@ @ @ @ @ @ @ several times on Tuesday to assess the line , Zack Ness , a field technician for an engineering company , pulled into the parking lot in his work truck .
“ I 'm 34 and I 've never voted in any election , but this feels important to me , ” said Mr. Ness , adding that he also helped his father register so he could cast his first-ever ballot for President Trump .
Turning out young – frequently first-time – voters like Ms. Bingham and Ms. Murphy has long been a play @ @ @ @ @ @ @ year was no different .
Thus far , more than 60 % of voters under the age of 30 went for Mr. Biden , and of this year ’ s more than 10 million first-time voters , more than 60 % were either Democrat or unaffiliated .
But the Trump campaign has always recognized the possibility of expanding its base with first-time voters such as Ms. Dausinger and Mr. Ness .
As the Cook Political Report ’ s Dave Wasserman found within 14 battleground states – including Pennsylvania and Ohio – almost 50 @ @ @ @ @ @ @ white , non-college-educated adults , a slice of the electorate that Mr. Trump has won handily .
The 2020 race has often been framed as Democrats attempting to expand their base while Republicans focus more on restrictions they argue are needed to protect the voting process from fraud .
But this year ’ s historic turnout is likely due to enthusiasm on both sides .
“ People are like , ‘ Why was there no blue wave ?
’ Well , there was one .
There was a red wave going at the @ @ @ @ @ @ @ , who runs the U.S .
Elections Project at the University of Florida and is an expert on voter turnout .
“ And that ’ s how you get a historic turnout .
You can ’ t get it from just one-half of the country voting.
” And outside a polling precinct in downtown York , Pennsylvania , the enthusiasm extended to those who aren ’ t even eligible .
Best friends Tzipporah Goins and Arlette Morales can ’ t vote this year : Ms. Goins turns 18 the week following the election @ @ @ @ @ @ @ Mexico , so she is not a citizen .
Still , they volunteered to be poll watchers , sitting in foldout chairs outside on the sidewalk , greeting voters as they left the Cornerstone Baptist Church and asking if they were able to vote without any problems .
“ I still want to participate in a system that doesn ’ t include me , because I still want to be included , ” says Ms. Morales .
“ It ’ s hard .
I try to push people to register to vote because @ @ @ @ @ @ @ then I have to at least get other people to vote for me and my family .
I still want to put my own grain of salt into this election .
”

“People are like, ‘Why was there no blue wave?’” says Michael McDonald, who runs the U.S. Elections Project at the University of Florida. “Well, there was one; there was a red wave going at the same time.”
Despite a chaotic election week fraught with partisan tension, the voting on Tuesday had a major bright side: a rush of voters exercising their constitutional right for the first time. It was fueled by Republicans and Democrats alike.
One state away in Ohio, Delaney Murphy and Allie Bingham, University of Cincinnati students and first-time voters, brim with enthusiasm after casting their first-ever ballots for former Vice President Joe Biden.
A democracy can only be as strong as the commitment of its voters. And measured by engagement, 2020 is a banner year. Our reporters found this election brought many Americans to the polls for the first time.
“I just never really thought voting was a big deal before,” says Ms. Dausinger, with a shrug of her shoulders.
When people picture a first-time voter, it likely isn’t Shona Dausinger. The middle-aged woman with a Paula Deen-style gray blowout walks toward her car from her polling location in Shrewsbury, Pennsylvania, with her husband, Jeff, after casting her first-ever ballot for President Donald Trump.
When people picture a first-time voter, it likely isn’t Shona Dausinger. The middle-aged woman with a Paula Deen-style gray blowout walks toward her car from her polling location in Shrewsbury, Pennsylvania, with her husband, Jeff, after casting her first-ever ballot – for President Donald Trump.
“I just never really thought voting was a big deal before,” says Ms. Dausinger, with a shrug of her shoulders.
One state away in Ohio, Delaney Murphy and Allie Bingham, University of Cincinnati students and first-time voters, brim with enthusiasm after casting their first-ever ballots for former Vice President Joe Biden.
Why We Wrote This A democracy can only be as strong as the commitment of its voters. And measured by engagement, 2020 is a banner year. Our reporters found this election brought many Americans to the polls for the first time.
Despite a chaotic election week fraught with partisan tension, the voting on Tuesday had a major bright side: a rush of voters exercising their constitutional right for the first time.
Some estimates project that the final turnout will be more than 66% of eligible voters, the highest rate in 120 years, with the 2020 turnout already exceeding 2016’s turnout in 42 states – a sign of engagement by Republicans and Democrats alike.
Story Hinckley/The Christian Science Monitor View caption Hide caption Zack Ness, a field technician for an engineering company, voted for the first time on Tuesday in Shrewsbury, Pennsylvania. "I wasn't really into politics very much until 2016," says Mr. Ness. “I'm 34 and I've never voted in any election, but this feels important to me."
After driving by his Shrewsbury polling place several times on Tuesday to assess the line, Zack Ness, a field technician for an engineering company, pulled into the parking lot in his work truck. “I'm 34 and I've never voted in any election, but this feels important to me,” said Mr. Ness, adding that he also helped his father register so he could cast his first-ever ballot for President Trump.
Turning out young – frequently first-time – voters like Ms. Bingham and Ms. Murphy has long been a play of the Democratic Party, and this year was no different. Thus far, more than 60% of voters under the age of 30 went for Mr. Biden, and of this year’s more than 10 million first-time voters, more than 60% were either Democrat or unaffiliated.
But the Trump campaign has always recognized the possibility of expanding its base with first-time voters such as Ms. Dausinger and Mr. Ness. As the Cook Political Report’s Dave Wasserman found within 14 battleground states – including Pennsylvania and Ohio – almost 50% of nonvoting citizens in 2016 were white, non-college-educated adults, a slice of the electorate that Mr. Trump has won handily.
The 2020 race has often been framed as Democrats attempting to expand their base while Republicans focus more on restrictions they argue are needed to protect the voting process from fraud. But this year’s historic turnout is likely due to enthusiasm on both sides.
“People are like, ‘Why was there no blue wave?’ Well, there was one. There was a red wave going at the same time,” says Michael McDonald, who runs the U.S. Elections Project at the University of Florida and is an expert on voter turnout. “And that’s how you get a historic turnout. You can’t get it from just one-half of the country voting.”
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And outside a polling precinct in downtown York, Pennsylvania, the enthusiasm extended to those who aren’t even eligible. Best friends Tzipporah Goins and Arlette Morales can’t vote this year: Ms. Goins turns 18 the week following the election, and the Mexican-born Ms. Morales is not a citizen. Still, they volunteered to be poll watchers, sitting in foldout chairs outside on the sidewalk, greeting voters as they left the Cornerstone Baptist Church and asking if they were able to vote without any problems.
“I still want to participate in a system that doesn’t include me, because I still want to be included,” says Ms. Morales. “It’s hard. I try to push people to register to vote because if I can’t vote, then I have to at least get other people to vote for me and my family. I still want to put my own grain of salt into this election.”