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New data find that Americans’ concerns about political violence, democratic participation, and safety at the polls remain alarmingly high.
President Donald Trump has baselessly claimed that there was fraud in California’s recent elections. The Department of Justice sent a federal prosecutor to observe ballot processing in Los Angeles, and the US attorney appointee has said there are “multiple election fraud investigations under way.”
These false allegations levied for years against our election systems by Trump are taking their toll on voters. New data find that Americans’ concerns about political violence, democratic participation, and safety at the polls remain alarmingly high.
This constant stoking of fears over nearly nonexistent voter fraud by Trump and other political figures is harming people’s faith in the system: 44% of Americans across the political spectrum are not confident that our elections will be free and fair, and 59% are now afraid of voter fraud either by ineligible individuals or election officials. People are afraid of each other.
Worse, voters are fearful of exercising their rights and have multiple concerns about involvement in the democratic process. In political situations, only 48% of respondents feel completely safe going to their polling place. Only 22% feel completely safe at events like political rallies and candidate forums, and only 17% feel completely safe attending a demonstration or protest. These numbers are alarming and speak to the lack of trust in our institutions and could be an indicator of significant unwillingness to participate in important aspects of our democratic processes.
When those people were asked who or what was to blame for the divisions, the top answer was President Trump and the Republican Party.
Most concerning is that a full 15% of voters would leave without voting if they witnessed or experienced harassment or intimidation at the polls. That includes 21% of Black people and 22% of Latinos compared with 11% of white people. And 19% of Gen Z and 23% of Millennials would leave. This obviously presents a challenge at a time when it’s imperative that young people are brought into the democratic process and their faith in the system is bolstered.
The Trump administration’s immigration crackdown is also stoking fear. A disturbing number, 33% of Americans, say they are very worried about future violent attacks by Immigration and Customs Enforcement (ICE), higher than fear of groups like the white supremacist Proud Boys at 26% or armed militias at 27%. When asked about an ICE attack, 70% of Black and Latino people reported being worried, while 49% of white people did so.
Of those who feel less safe than in 2022, mass shootings at 57% and general crime at 52% are the top two reasons, as would be expected, but continued political divisiveness is blamed by 51%, right behind crime. Tragically, 70% of Gen Z feel less safe because of mass shootings. And a third of respondents cite the cultural divides created by targeting specific groups as bad for the country. Another third blame fear of extreme right-wing groups as a reason for feeling less safe, compared with 17% who named fear of extreme left-wing groups.
At this moment, the political landscape of America seems to be one where acts of violence and unrest are expected. Furthermore, expectations of disruption, dispute of election results, and even the advent of another January 6 following the next presidential elections are high. Throughout the survey, people cited political and racial divides as areas of concern when it comes to fears and violence. When asked if our nation and people are as or more divided as we were at the Civil War, 69% said yes. The response was 68% four years ago.
And when those people were asked who or what was to blame for the divisions, the top answer was President Trump and the Republican Party. The number has risen to 52% in 2026 from 41% in 2022. Most significant are the changes in the Republican and Independent responses since 2022. Republicans reported a sharp increase from only 8% in 2022 to 19% in 2026 saying that Trump is to blame for the nation’s divided nature. And Independents went from 38% to 50% blaming Trump in 2026.
Given these fears, what can secretaries of state and election officials do to ensure voters feel safe exercising their rights? Well, there is one issue that is broadly agreed to by those polled: 68% of Americans fully support banning guns within 100 feet of polling stations, including 62% of gun owners. Black and Latino Americans report their greatest fear is others carrying guns at the polls. Today, 17 states have prohibitions on open and concealed carry of firearms at polling places and a total of 20 ban concealed carry. That’s up from 12 states in 2022.
Based on this alarming data, we recommended to secretaries of states across the country earlier this month that states:
In addition to stopping the false election fraud narrative, taking these actions is critical to protect voters, especially as President Trump’s Department of Justice (DOJ) has not taken the usual steps to establish a “command center” to monitor and address the typical emergencies that pop up around Election Day, and which would address things like voter intimidation and targeted disinformation meant to interfere with a fair process.
The DOJ has also canceled election-integrity training sessions for prosecutors and FBI agents, deleted a 281-page guide to prosecuting elections offenses, fired most of the lawyers in its Public Integrity Section, and failed to replace the director of its Election Crimes Branch. It is up to state governments to fill the breach.
To understand why Bolivia is on the brink, we must understand a fundamental betrayal of the people by their political representatives.
For over six weeks now, Bolivia has been engulfed in a national revolt. What started as sectoral demands over public employee salaries, fuel subsidies, and land rights has metastasized into a full-throated cry for the resignation of Trump-aligned President Rodrigo Paz. The country is paralyzed by more than 100 road blockades that have severed the capital, La Paz, from the rest of the nation, cutting off food, fuel, and medicine. Ten people are dead, dozens more injured, and over 300 have been arrested. Journalists and activists have also been caught in the violence.
The government’s response has been a schizophrenic mix of hollow calls for peaceful dialogue and negotiation, and brutal repression. Paz has signed deals with some social sectors, and organized a Social Economic Council, while jailing the leaders of the groups he’s “negotiating” with.
Thousands of militarized police have been deployed, using tear gas, rubber bullets, and, according to persistent rumors the government denies, live ammunition. Leaders of various protest groups, including the Bolivian Workers’ Central (COB), the largest trade union in the country, and radical Aymara defense force Ponchos Rojos, have been jailed. The Wiphala, the sacred flag of Bolivia’s Indigenous majority, has been burned in public squares by counterprotesters while the state itself no longer displays it publicly.
As Argentinian President Javier Milei’s expatriated adviser Fernando Cerimedo put it, this government is fighting against “dirty leftists.” Cerimedo was reportedly crucial in deporting a human rights mission from Argentina this week. Protest leaders and politicians have been kidnapped in broad daylight, including one senator with the Movement Toward Socialism, taken by police in plain clothes.
When a government disregards the voting blocs that got it into office, blocks every avenue for democratic change, criminalizes dissent, and rules on behalf of a foreign-aligned racist elite, it leaves the people few political options for engagement and representation.
Far-right groups and “The Resistance” have re-popularized the slogan, “Make the homeland, kill an indian,” which had become a popular rallying cry in the 2019 coup. Those same far-right groups were also seen in San Julian, near Santa Cruz, using illegal weapons and explosives against protesters, alongside state security forces. The Paz government has not rebuked any of these figures, statements, or actions, and instead cracked down further on the left.
Internationally, the reaction maps perfectly onto the new ideological conflict dividing Latin America. The right-wing autocrats, from Argentina’s Milei and Venezuela’s Maria Corina Machado to the Trump administration, have been unequivocal. They have labeled the protesters “narco-terrorists” threatening democracy itself, with the government applauding their solidarity.
US Secretary of War Pete Hegseth declared that the US “will reject all attempts to overthrow the legitimate government.” President Donald Trump himself expressed solidarity for Paz at the Shield of the Americas, held at his very own Trump Resort in Miami. This support has emboldened the Bolivian far-right, which is openly pushing for a full “state of exception,” a euphemism for martial law that has been developed by various autocrats including Ecuador’s Daniel Noboa and El Salvador’s Nayib Bukele, to crush democracy and opposition in the name of a “war on drugs.”
That scenario is likely for Bolivia, too, where protesters labeled “narco-terrorists” would be the subject of that war on drugs. Paz and the government coalition in the Plurinational Assembly have already passed and signed a law modifying the state of exception law. The old law was passed in 2020, after the pro-US unelected government of Jeanine Anez committed multiple massacres against opposition in that state of exception, to try to tamper state abuses.
Now, many safeguards have been removed, with the law giving carte blanche to state agents to kill, seize property, shut down telecommunications, and suspend political rights. The president has also declared a 90-day humanitarian emergency, which allowed for the deployment of militarized forces in El Alto, leading to the death of one protester and multiple injuries.
To understand why Bolivia is on the brink, we must understand a fundamental betrayal of the people by their political representatives. Rodrigo Paz ran under the banner of the Christian Democratic Party (PDC), a big-tent coalition with Indigenous currents previously aligned with the left, populist anti-corruption crusaders, and hard-right figures from the Santa Cruz elite. Voters, exhausted by the chronic crises of the Luis Arce administration and facing a nightmare choice against the far-right former president Jorge “Tuto” Quiroga (who was vice president to former pro-US dictator, Hugo Banzer), held their noses and voted for what they believed was the least destructive option.
They were promised “Capitalism for Everyone,” a softer, more competent alternative that would see public programs and social rights protected while opening up the country further.
Instead, Paz’s first months have been a masterclass in neoliberal shock therapy, looking to privatize energy, cutting public services and subsidies, restructuring debt with American financial institutions, and proposing to reform Indigenous land tenure, which communities correctly interpreted as a prelude to opening communal lands to private extraction. Key subsidies ensuring many citizens’ very survival, including fuel and food subsidies, have also been cut, jump kicking the cost of living for the most vulnerable.
The result is the political destitution of the Bolivian left, which represents the vast majority of the country. The old vehicle, Evo Morales’ MAS, is decapitated and adrift. Evo himself is practically in exile with an arrest warrant hanging over his head. His protege, Andronico Rodriguez, has been a ghost in public life, and his Alianza Popular has not been able to build much momentum.
Former President Luis Arce, Evo’s former minister and now sworn enemy, is in prison, in preventive detention. Other socialist leaders, politicians, and activists have been jailed, while the cabinet has ironically vowed to continue crackdowns “against lawfare.”
The Paz government has been jailing the key leaders of the socialist era while releasing convicted terrorists and far-right racists linked to the 2019 coup government and its subsequent massacres, like Jeanine Áñez, Luis Fernando Camacho, and leaders of far-right youth groups deemed the equivalent of the Proud Boys. It has also brought back the Drug Enforcement Administration, which had been kicked out by the Morales government over alleged election interference.
Despite running as the left’s only option, and as the counter to the right, since taking office, Paz’s policy proposals, rhetoric, and platform have mostly been directed at the white, Christian, conservative elite in the tropics, rather than to the Indigenous majority in the Altiplano.
This betrayal is creating a crisis of representation in a country where trust in institutions and democracy is already very low—and in the poorest country in South America. Most of the activists in the streets voted for Paz, while many unions endorsed the PDC, but are now expressing their discontent at their interests being disregarded. One protester in La Paz told me, “We have to remind these oligarchs who the Casa Grande del Pueblo is for, and reclaim it.”
The government and its allies have worked overtime to criminalize the rage that has come from this betrayal. In the face of this repression, some groups have decided to fight fire with fire, arguing Paz’s repression has made negotiation unviable. The COB itself said it would be willing to do anything, “as in a war,” and has vowed to “increase radical pressure measures.”
As Quya Reyna, a writer, activist, and social leader argued in a manifesto for the protest movements, repression will only bring further suffering, and, if the government refuses to negotiate, this is the social cost it will bring. Another manifesto signed by some indigeneist protest groups now explicitly endorses armed resistance.
When a government disregards the voting blocs that got it into office, blocks every avenue for democratic change, criminalizes dissent, and rules on behalf of a foreign-aligned racist elite, it leaves the people few political options for engagement and representation.
The state is using its monopoly on force not to protect its citizens, but to protect the privileges of the few against the many. It cannot, then, be surprised at the rage it engenders by doing so. As Reyna added, “if you want peace, listen to the people and negotiate, don’t repress.”
Faced with this brick wall, the social movements are left with little choice but to play outside the system. In the long term, this is a terrible development for peaceful, stable, social democracy, as it may create a vicious cycle between faith in political institutions, and political violence. As one piece of graffiti scrawled in La Paz by protesters declares, “Let there be no peace for the oligarchies if there is no bread for the majority.”
Vice President Edmand Lara, a populist former police officer who was crucial to Paz’s election, has broken dramatically with the president, condemning the repression and inviting the Inter-American Commission on Human Rights to monitor the country.
The vice president has also denounced the cabinet’s own links to drug trafficking, though he has called for further crackdowns on crime, and Evo Morales. On the right, former president Tuto Quiroga, billionaire Marcelo Claure, Áñez allies, and others have pushed for Paz to step aside and allow security forces to rule, through a state of exception (essentially, martial law), while continuing economic “liberalization.”
Some reports have also indicated the military is interested in pushing Paz out, while embracing further right-wing figures. To satisfy them, Paz has given even more power to the hardliners like Ernesto Justiniano, the anti-drug czar, now minister of defense, while further alienating social sectors and moderate progressives within his cabinet, like José Luis Lupo, Lara, and billionaire Samuel Doria Medina, all of whom have urged for dialogue over repression.
This government is eating itself, while Bolivian democracy has perhaps never looked weaker.
The hard-fought promise of the Plurinational State, a multiracial social democracy with strong rights and constitutional protections, has been hollowed out by a new form of external rule for the elites, far-right racists, foreign states, and the security state. The majorities, meanwhile, have felt betrayed, and are using every means at their disposal to regain representation.
That popular movement now believes the only way forward is a fresh start—calling for Paz to resign, and for fresh elections. Until then, they will continue blocking the country, and forcing the government’s hands, to remind them of their power. Though, the right will continue blaming “dirty leftists” and “indians” for “destroying the country” and “stopping progress,” instead of blaming themselves.
To move forward, the country's leaders will have to realize that, whether in a democracy or dictatorship, they will have to govern with, and for, the Indigenous majorities, not without and against them.
At a time when authoritarianism thrives on division, the solidarity between Arab and Jewish communities rooted in justice and human dignity is a powerful response to fear and hate.
Our country is at war. The American-Israeli attack on Iran has plunged the Middle East and the Arab world into chaos, displacing millions and causing thousands of casualties.
Here at home, this war has consequences for the safety of Jewish and Arab American communities. Last week, a man drove a car containing explosives into a synagogue just outside of Metro Detroit. Reports indicate he held Jews responsible for the death of several members of his family in an Israeli airstrike in Lebanon. At the same time, multiple congressional Republicans have decided anti-Muslim bigotry will be a key part of their strategy for the midterms. This, after their language dehumanizing Palestinians and Arabs, went generally unchallenged.
This moment requires solidarity.
As we hold our breath with every new development abroad and at home, our hearts break. Our hearts break for the loss of life. Our hearts break for the fear felt by Jewish and Arab-American communities. And our hearts break again when we consider how this may fuel more of both antisemitism and anti-Arab racism.
The same politics that justify illegal wars abroad target communities at home.
Meanwhile, many American communities are also the target of the same state violence that launches unlawful wars. The National Guard has been deployed to cities across the country, and agents from Customs and Border Protection (CBP) and Immigration and Customs Enforcement (ICE) are targeting Black and brown people in mass raids that have led to tens of thousands of abductions, detentions, and deportations, tearing families apart. Racial profiling has Latinos, Somalis, Asians, and other immigrant communities in fear of leaving their homes. Immigration agents have killed Americans on the streets, and a record number of people have died in ICE custody over the past year. 2026 is on track to surpass those devastating numbers.
Right now, the Trump administration is using antisemitism as a smokescreen to target protesters, particularly immigrants who are people of color, and most particularly those who are Palestinian or Arab. We reject the assertion that this is how we fight antisemitism. We reject the assertion that one of our communities must be harmed to ensure the safety of another. Not only does doing so bring no lasting safety to Jews and Arabs, it invites more danger by weakening all our rights in a democracy under attack—the opposite of how we attain safety for everyone.
The administration’s willful disregard for the rule of law extends far beyond executive powers. Students are being arrested and detained for First Amendment-protected speech advocating for Palestinian human rights, teachers are worried about lesson plans that include the history of slavery, and libraries are being forced to remove LGBTQ+ books while transgender Americans in entire states are being stripped of their documentation.
Our nation’s essential nonprofits are under threat from our own government, and political dissent and protest is labeled “domestic terrorism.” And one of our most important tools to fight back, our vote, is under assault. The Voting Rights Act itself is in jeopardy, with the potential of taking us back six decades. These realities are deeply interconnected.
The same politics that justify illegal wars abroad target communities at home. State repression is creating fear and the erosion of our basic civil rights and liberties, as well as the abandonment of democratic norms.
In the case of Arab Americans and Jewish Americans, many choose to paint our communities as adversaries or, if we’re lucky, as unlikely allies. Neither is true, and our work together is not novel. At a time when authoritarianism thrives on division, the solidarity between Arab and Jewish communities rooted in justice and human dignity is a powerful response to fear and hate. It is also how we fight back.
This is a time of convergence for many important holidays. Arab American Muslims are preparing for the holiday marking the end of Ramadan. Jewish Americans will soon celebrate Passover. The Passover Seder has us place ourselves in the story of those fleeing oppression. The Ramadan fast has us place ourselves in physical hunger and thirst, feeling what it is like to be without.
Those for whom that oppression or hunger is enduring, who await a relief that may not be forthcoming, are the reason we do the work we do. The reason we do the work we do together. Our solidarity is with each other and with them—the marginalized, the least protected, the hungry. We pledge to keep working hard together—and with all who believe in the promise of a better America where everyone is safe and thriving—until our collective liberation is achieved.