{ "article": { "title" : "From Matriarchy to Advocacy: Sudan’s struggles, global solidarity, and the fight for self-determination", "author" : "maya finoh, Tarteel Al Imam", "category" : "interviews", "url" : "https://everythingispolitical.com/readings/tarteel-al-imam-sudan-global-solidarity-self-determination", "date" : "2024-11-01 12:59:00 -0400", "img" : "https://everythingispolitical.com/uploads/tarteel-thumb.jpg", "excerpt" : "maya finoh: It’s our first time meeting, so I’d absolutely love to learn more about you and who you are! Can you tell me about some experiences or moments in your life that have really shaped you? And who are your people?", "content" : "maya finoh: It’s our first time meeting, so I’d absolutely love to learn more about you and who you are! Can you tell me about some experiences or moments in your life that have really shaped you? And who are your people?TARTEEL AL IMAM: My name is Tarteel Al Imam. I was born and raised in Omdurman, Sudan, where I spent my childhood. I grew up surrounded by the most amazing women—my aunts, my mom, and my grandmothers. It was a very matriarchal household, and I saw these incredible women doing everything with so much passion and love.I moved to the United States when I was eight, and wow, it felt like moving to another planet! Everything was so different—the language, the people, and the culture. I went from being in a very communal society, where everyone knows everyone, to a much more individualistic one. In Sudan, your neighbors are like your second family. Everyone’s in and out of each other’s houses. So, that sense of community was something I really missed when I first moved here.Being Sudanese is a huge part of who I am, and I’ve always been driven to give back to my community. I started tutoring Sudanese students, mentoring them, and it made me realize that I want to use whatever skills and resources I’ve gained to uplift the Sudanese community. That’s how I got into advocacy for Sudan. In 2019, after the revolution, I co-founded the Sudanese Diaspora Network. Our goal is to bridge the gap between the diaspora and the youth in Sudan. We’ve worked on projects like renovating playgrounds at Mygoma, an orphanage in Sudan, because even though we’ve physically left Sudan, it will always be a part of us. Everything I do, I try to bring it back to Sudan. I owe so much to my grandmothers. Every single thing I do can be traced back to the principles and values they instilled in me—living with love, joy, and always giving back to the community. That’s what drives me every day.maya: So much of what you said resonated with me. My family is West African, from Sierra Leone, and the role of grandmothers is something I connect with deeply. My own grandmother came to live with us in the ‘90s during the Civil War in our country, so I completely understand the love and influence that grandmothers hold.As you know, atrocities in Africa are often portrayed as humanitarian crises or civil wars, even when there’s foreign interference seeking control of natural resources. So, I’m wondering if you could explain why the ongoing violence in Sudan today is better understood as a proxy war or even a counter-revolutionary war against the Sudanese people.TARTEEL: In Sudan’s case, there are multiple regional and international actors with very vested interests in the conflict, backing different factions. For example, Egypt and Saudi Arabia have strategic interests, particularly regarding the Nile River and political stability in the region. Egypt is closely aligned with Sudan’s military faction, the SAF, because they fear that instability might jeopardize their Nile water supply and influence.On the other hand, the UAE and Russia, particularly through the Wagner Group, are supporting the RSF due to their heavy investment in Sudan’s gold resources and its strategic positioning on the Red Sea. The UAE views the RSF, led by Hemeti, as a strategic partner for controlling Sudan’s lucrative gold mines. Sudan is one of the world’s largest producers of gold, and the RSF controls vast mines in Darfur and other regions. The UAE is illegally extracting this gold, using the RSF as the means to do so. The RSF, in turn, relies on the UAE’s backing to sustain its operations, build wealth, and maintain its influence.The gold is being smuggled to Dubai, a global hub for gold trading, which is further fueling the conflict. This gold comes at the cost of people’s lives.This smuggling and exploitation are directly prolonging the conflict, with the UAE playing a critical yet under- acknowledged role, costing millions of lives.In 2019, the Sudanese people successfully ousted longtime dictator Omar al-Bashir through a popular revolution, driven by civilian- led protests calling for Huria, Salaam, wa Adalah—freedom, peace, and justice—and an end to military rule. In Darfur, the RSF has continued the genocidal tactics used during the earlier conflict, targeting different communities, burning villages, and committing horrific acts of violence.maya: I appreciate how you pointed out that actors like the UAE, Egypt, Saudi Arabia, and Russia are backing these militias and essentially banking on destabilization to maintain control over Sudan’s rich natural resources, which the Sudanese people themselves should have control over. They should be able to determine how to use these resources for their own benefit.I also want to thank you for highlighting that ethnic cleansing is being used as a deliberate war tactic. I feel like that genocidal aspect is often missing from the analysis when non-Africans or non-Sudanese people discuss what’s happening in Sudan.On that note, I’d love to know what sparked the creation of the #KeepEyesOnSudan hashtag.TARTEEL: Yes, so the hashtag #KeepEyesOnSudan originally emerged during the 2019 Sudanese uprising as a response to the violent crackdown by military forces on peaceful, pro-democracy protesters. It was driven by the urgent need to raise global awareness of the atrocities happening in Sudan, especially because the country was often under an information blackout. This blackout was intentional, designed to isolate the Sudanese people and keep the rest of the world in the dark about what was happening.With the internet shut down, communication was cut off, making it incredibly difficult for the international community to grasp the scale of the violence. During this time, very few reports of the massacres got out, and this silence was dangerous—it cost lives, with those on the ground paying the price. To counter this, Sudanese activists turned to social media platforms like Twitter, Instagram, and Facebook to share whatever information they could get from people on the ground, alerting the world to the atrocities being committed.The #KeepEyesOnSudan hashtag was created to raise international awareness and ensure that the ongoing revolution and the Sudanese people’s demands for a civilian-led government didn’t go unnoticed or get forgotten by the global community. It was about accountability, about not letting the martyrs who sacrificed their lives for Sudan’s liberation be forgotten.maya: You’ve already touched upon the revolutionary uprising and the unwavering desire for democratic, civilian rule in Sudan— in your opinion, what does Sudanese self-determination require?TARTEEL: I think that Sudanese self-determination is a complex and long-term goal that requires multiple layers of change. First and foremost, it requires a government that is democratically elected, accountable to the people, and free from military control. Since the ousting of Omar Al-Bashir in 2019, the power struggle between the military and the RSF has been a major obstacle to democracy. One of the most crucial steps toward self-determination is establishing a civilian government. This also requires transparent elections. Sudanese people need the opportunity to participate in free, fair, and transparent elections, where they can choose their representatives without interference from the military or foreign powers.For Sudan to truly achieve self-determination, I strongly believe that marginalized groups—women, ethnic minorities, and youth—must have an active role in political decision-making. We saw in the 2019 revolution that it was women-led, and even now, many grassroots organizations and humanitarian relief efforts are youth-led and women-led.Another key factor is freedom of speech and press. This is not a guaranteed right in Sudan, and Sudanese people must be allowed to express their opinions, criticize the government, and participate in political life without fear of repression or censorship. Finally, self-determination requires recognizing and respecting all of Sudan’s cultural and ethnic identities. Policies must promote inclusion, equality, and respect for diversity, rather than favoring certain groups over others, which has historically been the case.maya: What is the role of those of us committed to the liberation of the African continent in the ongoing struggle for people’s rule in Sudan? Specifically, what actions can those of us living in the heart of the U.S. empire—what many call the belly of the beast—take in solidarity with Sudanese organizers?TARTEEL: I truly love this question because I believe that those dedicated to the liberation of the African continent have a crucial role in standing with Sudanese organizers and amplifying their demands for self-determination, civilian governance, and human rights. The role of African liberation movements, both on the continent and in the diaspora, is to forge solidarity, apply pressure on international actors, and uplift grassroots efforts, as true change arises from the ground up.One key aspect is amplifying Sudanese voices. African liberation activists can provide platforms for Sudanese organizers to share their stories, strategize, and create lists of demands.International pressure on governments and institutions is another important avenue. African liberation movements can work to expose and challenge foreign interference, spotlighting exploitative relationships. For instance, pinpointing actors like the UAE, Russia, and Egypt allows us to counter the narrative that frames the situation as merely a humanitarian crisis.People in the U.S., specifically, have a unique and crucial role to play in supporting Sudan and Sudanese organizers, given America’s significant influence on global politics, economics, and military affairs. This means pushing for diplomatic pressures on the UAE to cease their financial and military support for the ongoing violence in Sudan.It’s important to understand that Sudan is not forgotten; people simply ignore it. While there are Sudanese voices on the ground, their stories often remain unheard outside their communities.Additionally, advocating for refugee rights is crucial. This means pushing for policies that grant asylum and protection for Sudanese refugees. With more than 10 million people displaced, we must ensure they are treated with dignity and provided the resources to thrive in their new environments, whether that’s in the U.S. or in neighboring countries like Egypt.maya: Is there anything else you’d like to share?TARTEEL: This is what humanity is all about: breaking down the barriers that keep us separate. When we shift away from the mentality of “What can I do as an individual?” we start to see that we are much stronger together. It’s about viewing this as an opportunity for collective action rather than the burden of individual action. The more we embrace this idea, the more we can truly make a difference.maya: Ultimately, we need to be so rooted in collective action that the call for a free Sudan is also clearly a call for a free Palestine, a free Congo, a free West Papua, a free Haiti— a free Global South.‘In 2019, the Sudanese people successfully ousted longtime dictator Omar al-Bashir through a popular revolution, driven by civilian-led protests calling for Huria, Salaam, wa Adalah—freedom, peace, and justice— and an end to military rule. In Darfur, the RSF has continued the genocidal tactics used during the earlier conflict, targeting different communities, burning villages, and committing horrific acts of violence.’—Tarteel" } , "relatedposts": [ { "title" : "Narrative Sovereignty in the American Wing of The Met: Don't Miss ENCODED at the MET", "author" : "", "category" : "", "url" : "https://everythingispolitical.com/readings/narrative-sovereignty-in-the-american-wing-of-the-met", "date" : "2025-12-22 12:58:00 -0500", "img" : "https://everythingispolitical.com/uploads/Cover_EIP_Hidden_Exhibition.jpg", "excerpt" : "As artists and multicultural activists, we did not come to the Metropolitan Museum of Art’s American Wing seeking permission, instead we showed up to the work with intention, responsibility, and a commitment to truth. ENCODED: Change the Story, Change the Future exists because silence is not neutral, presence without agency is insufficient and solidarity across values-based creativity is essential for liberation.", "content" : "As artists and multicultural activists, we did not come to the Metropolitan Museum of Art’s American Wing seeking permission, instead we showed up to the work with intention, responsibility, and a commitment to truth. ENCODED: Change the Story, Change the Future exists because silence is not neutral, presence without agency is insufficient and solidarity across values-based creativity is essential for liberation.The American Wing is often described as a celebration of American art, yet it also functions as a carefully curated archive of colonial mythology and westward expansion propaganda. Its paintings and sculptures rehearse familiar narratives: conquest framed as destiny, extraction framed as progress, whiteness framed as purity, Indigenous absence framed as inevitability. These works are not merely historical artifacts; they are instruments of narrative power. They encode ideas about belonging, legitimacy, and nationhood, ideas that continue to shape cultural consciousness and public policy today. ENCODED intervenes in this institutional space not to negate history, but to complicate it. Using augmented reality, the exhibition overlays Indigenous artistic expression and counter-narratives directly onto famous works in the American Wing, reframing them through Indigenous epistemologies, lived experience, and historical truth. This is not an act of erasure. It is an act of expansion and an overt insistence that American art history is incomplete without Indigenous voice, presence, and critique.At its core, ENCODED is grounded in the principle of narrative sovereignty. Narrative sovereignty asserts that communities most impacted by historical and ongoing harm such as Indigenous peoples, Afro-descendant people, Palestinians, Pacific Islanders, Trans folks and the working class all must have the authority to tell their own stories, in their own words, and within the institutions that have historically excluded or misrepresented them. This is not a symbolic gesture. It is a democratic imperative.Democracy depends on access to truth. When museums present a singular, sanitized vision of history, they do not merely reflect power, they reinforce it. The American Wing has long upheld myths of “taming the West” and the so-called exhaustion of empire, narratives that obscure the violence of settler colonialism, normalize Indigenous dispossession and chattel slavery. ENCODED challenges these myths by making visible what has been omitted: resistance, survival, continuity, solidarity and accountability. For me, I also hope this intervention reflects back to museum goers and viewers the perils of authoritarianism, fascism and ongoing colonial projects such as legacy media consolidation, rapid creation of datacenters to produce AI, cutting access to healthcare, education, rights, or the current US regime’s attempt to erase history by any means necessary.The artists participating in ENCODED are not responding nostalgically to the past. They are engaging the present. Their work examines how colonial narratives persist in contemporary systems including environmental destruction justified by extraction, racial hierarchies reinforced through cultural storytelling, and institutions that benefit from the aesthetics of inclusion while resisting structural change. These are not abstract critiques; they are lived realities and for me deep lessons that have been shaped by having formerly worked at a neocolonial conservation nonprofit ran by wealthy cis wyt men and their enablers for nearly five years.Artistic integrity, in this context, cannot be separated from ethical responsibility. For too long, the art world has upheld a false binary between aesthetics and politics, suggesting that rigor diminishes when artists engage power directly. ENCODED rejects this premise. Integrity is not neutrality. Integrity is the willingness to tell the truth, even when it destabilizes comfort or prestige. Walking with integrity can be painful and takes courage.Importantly, ENCODED is not positioned as a protest staged outside the institution, nor as a request for institutional validation. It is an act of presence with agency. The project uses accessible technology to meet audiences where they are, inviting participation rather than reverence. Viewers scan QR codes and encounter layered narratives that ask them to look again, listen differently, and question inherited assumptions. Except for a few organized tours, the experience is self-guided, decentralized, and deliberately democratic. It’s also fun, and it is so special to hear the familiar sounds from the ENCODED pieces ring throughout the galleries signalling that kin is close by.This kinship network and accessibility is central to the work. Cultural literacy should not be gated by academic language, curatorial authority, white exceptionalism or economic privilege. By operating through personal devices, ENCODED rejects the museum’s traditional hierarchy of knowledge and affirms that interpretation is a shared civic space. The exhibition does not dictate conclusions; it creates conditions for reckoning and deep dialogue.Solidarity is another foundational principle of the project. ENCODED brings together Indigenous artists across nations and disciplines, in relationship with Black, Brown, and allied communities who recognize that colonialism is not a single-issue structure. The logics that dispossessed Indigenous peoples are the same logics that underwrote slavery, environmental exploitation, the seizing of Palestine, forced child mining labor of cobalt in Congo and in general global empire. Working in solidarity does not collapse difference; it honors specificity while resisting division and acknowledging historic patterns of systemic oppression.In a cultural landscape shaped by scarcity and competition, ENCODED models an alternative, one rooted in collective presence, shared resources, and mutual accountability. The project refuses the extractive norms of both empire and the contemporary art economy, offering instead a relational approach grounded in care, collaboration, and long-term impact on community.The decision to situate ENCODED within the American Wing was deliberate. Indigenous art has too often been confined to anthropological contexts or framed as premodern, separate from the narrative of American art. ENCODED asserts what has always been true: Indigenous peoples are not peripheral to American history; we are foundational to it. Our stories do not belong on the margins, nor do they belong solely to the past or through a white gaze.Yet presence without counter-narrative risks assimilation. ENCODED insists that visibility must be accompanied by authorship. By intervening directly within the American Wing, the project challenges the authority of colonial framing and invites institutions to reckon with their role in shaping public memory. Our hope is that eventually the Met will see this as an opportunity to engage in discussion and support its presence well into 2026.There is risk in this work. Naming colonial propaganda within revered institutions invites discomfort, defensiveness, and critique. But risk is inseparable from integrity. Artists and cultural workers are accountable not only to institutions and audiences, but to future generations. The question is not whether institutions will change, but whether artists will continue to lead with courage when they do not.ENCODED is an offering and a provocation. It asks what it means to inherit a cultural legacy and whether we are willing to transform it. Empire is not exhausted; it is contested. And art remains one of the most powerful sites of that contestation. When we change the story, we do change the future. Not through erasure, but through expansion. Not through dominance, but through relationship.Ultimately, ENCODED affirms that art is not merely a reflection of society, but a tool for shaping it and that when artists from the margins claim space at the center, together and with integrity, we open pathways toward a more honest, inclusive, and democratic cultural future. Join us.To access ENCODED review the exhibit website for instructions. While at the Met scan the QR code and click through the prompts for the self guided tour.https://www.encodedatthemet.com" } , { "title" : "The Aesthetics of Atrocity: Lockheed Martin’s Streetwear Pivot", "author" : "Louis Pisano", "category" : "", "url" : "https://everythingispolitical.com/readings/the-aesthetics-of-atrocity", "date" : "2025-12-20 10:30:00 -0500", "img" : "https://everythingispolitical.com/uploads/Cover_EIP_Lockheed_StreetWar.jpg", "excerpt" : "On December 12, The Business of Fashion published an article titled “The Unlikely Rise and Uncertain Future of Lockheed Martin Streetwear,” detailing the world’s largest arms manufacturer’s entrance into casual apparel.", "content" : "On December 12, The Business of Fashion published an article titled “The Unlikely Rise and Uncertain Future of Lockheed Martin Streetwear,” detailing the world’s largest arms manufacturer’s entrance into casual apparel.Through a licensing deal with South Korea’s Doojin Yanghang Corp., Lockheed turns fighter jet graphics, corporate slogans, and its star logo into gorpcore staples. Oversized outerwear, tactical pants, and advanced synthetic fabrics sell out at Seoul pop-ups like the Hyundai department store with young Korean consumers chasing the edgy, functional vibe. Andy Koh, a Seoul-based content creator, tells BoF that while arms manufacturing is, in theory, political, he has never encountered widespread discomfort among Korean consumers. “As long as it looks cool and the product functions as expected,” he says, “they seem okay with it.”This trend aligns with a broader South Korean fashion phenomenon: licensing logos from global non-fashion brands to create popular streetwear lines. Examples include National Geographic puffers, Yale crewnecks, Kodak retro tees, CNN hoodies, Discovery jackets, Jeep outdoor wear, and university apparel from institutions like Harvard and UCLA. These licensed collections, often featuring media, academia, sports leagues, or adventure themes, have become staples on online retailers like Musinsa and in brick-and-mortar stores, propelled by K-pop influence and a tech-savvy youth market that make these odd crossovers multimillion-dollar successes.Lockheed, however, is categorically different. Its core business is not exploration, education, or journalism. It is industrialized death, and its arrival in fashion forces a reckoning with how far commodification can stretch.Having spent years in the military, maybe I’m the wrong person to critique this. Or maybe I’m exactly the right one. I know what weapons are for, how they’re used, and the human cost they carry. Lockheed manufactures F-16 and F-35 fighter jets, Hellfire missiles, and precision-guided systems that human rights organizations have repeatedly linked to civilian casualties across multiple conflicts. In Yemen, U.S.-supplied weapons incorporating Lockheed technology contributed to thousands of civilian deaths since 2015, most notoriously the 2018 airstrike on a school bus in Saada that killed dozens of children. In Gaza, since October 2023, Lockheed-supplied F-35s and munitions have formed the backbone of air operations that Amnesty International and other watchdogs have flagged for potential violations of international humanitarian law, cases now under examination by the International Court of Justice.In 2024, the company reported $71 billion in revenue, almost entirely from military contracts, with more than 1,100 F-35s already delivered worldwide and production lines running hotter than ever. That staggering scale is the reality lurking beneath a logo now casually printed on everyday apparel.So why does the planet’s largest arms manufacturer license its brand to streetwear? The answer seems to be twofold: easy money and sophisticated image laundering. Licensing delivers low-risk royalties from Korea’s reported $35-40 billion apparel market with virtually no operational headache. Lockheed simply collects checks while a third-party manufacturer handles design, production, distribution, and deals with all the mess of retail.The far more ambitious goal, however, is reputational refurbishment. Doojin deliberately markets the line around “future-oriented technical aesthetics” and “aerospace innovation,” leaning on cutting-edge fabrics to conjure high-tech futurism instead of battlefield carnage. By late 2025, as U.S. favorability in South Korea continued to slide amid trade tensions and regional geopolitical shifts, the brand quietly de-emphasized its American roots, according to Lockheed representatives. The strategy clearly tries to sever the logo from political controversy and plant it firmly in youth culture, where aesthetic appeal routinely outmuscles ethical concern.Lockheed has honed this kind of rebranding for decades. Their corporate brochures overflow with talk of “driving innovation” and “advancing scientific discovery,” spotlighting STEM scholarships, veteran hiring initiatives, and rapid-response disaster aid. The clothing itself carries the same sanitized messaging. One prominent slogan reads “Ensuring those we serve always stay ahead of ready”, euphemistic corporate-speak that sounds heroic until you remember that “those we serve” includes forces deploying Hellfire missiles against civilian targets. Other pieces feature F-35 graphics paired with copy declaring the jet “strengthens national security, enhances global partnerships, and powers economic growth”. It’s textbook PR varnish. Instruments designed for lethal efficiency, now rebranded as symbols of progress and prosperity.We’ve also seen this trick before: Fast fashion brands that slap “sustainable” labels on sweatshop products. Tech giants that fund glamorous art installations while they harvest user data. Oil companies that rebrand themselves as forward-thinking “energy” players as the Earth’s climate burns. Lockheed, though, traffics in something uniquely irreversible: export-grade death. By licensing its identity to apparel, multibillion-dollar arms contracts are reduced to mere intellectual property; civilian casualties dissolved into, simply, background static.In other words, vibes overpower victims. And when those vibes are stamped with the logo of the planet’s preeminent death merchant, resistance feels futile.Gorpcore has always drawn from military surplus for its rugged utility: endless cargo pockets, indestructible nylons, tactical silhouettes born in combat and repurposed for city streets. Brands like Arc’teryx, The North Face, and Supreme mine that heritage for authenticity and performance. After World War II, army fatigues became symbols of genuine rebellion, worn by anti-war protesters as an act of defiance against the establishment. Today, the dynamic threatens to invert entirely. The establishment itself, the world’s preeminent arms dealer, now supplies the “authentic” merchandise, turning subversion into subtle endorsement.Streetwear grew out of skate culture, hip-hop, and grassroots rebellion against mainstream norms. Importing the aesthetics of atrocity risks converting that legacy into compliance, rendering militarism the newest version of mainstream cool. For a generation immersed in filtered feeds and rapid trend cycles, Lockheed’s logo can sit comfortably beside NASA patches or National Geographic emblems, conveniently severed from the charred wreckage in Saada or the devastation in Gaza. Research on “ethical fading” demonstrates how strong visual design can mute moral alarms, a phenomenon intensified in Korea’s hyper-trendy ecosystem, where mandatory military service may further desensitize young consumers to defense branding while K-pop’s global engine drives relentless consumption.If the line proves durable, escalation feels inevitable. Palantir, another cornerstone of the defense-tech world, has already gone there, hyping limited merch drops that sell out in hours: $99 athletic shorts stamped “PLTR—TECH,” $119 nylon totes, hoodies emblazoned with CEO Alex Karp’s likeness or slogans about “dominating” threats. What’s to stop Northrop Grumman from launching its own techwear line? Or BAE Systems from dropping high-end collaborations?Lockheed already licenses merchandise worldwide through various agencies; broader international rollouts beyond Korea seem only a matter of time. Backlash is possible, boycotts from ethically minded buyers, perhaps even regulatory scrutiny as anti-militarism sentiment swells. Gorpcore’s longstanding flirtation with military aesthetics could calcify into outright fetish, obliterating whatever daylight remained between practical function and state-sanctioned propaganda.Yet, history suggests that in oversaturated markets, “cool” almost always trumps conscience. Lockheed’s streetwear pivot is a stark illustration of how fashion and culture launder raw power, enabling the machinery of war to conceal itself among hype, hoodies, and sold-out drops." } , { "title" : "Our Era of Insecurity: How Unaffordability and Uncertainty Became Our Monoculture", "author" : "Alissa Quart", "category" : "essays", "url" : "https://everythingispolitical.com/readings/our-era-of-insecurity", "date" : "2025-12-16 11:56:00 -0500", "img" : "https://everythingispolitical.com/uploads/Cover_EIP_Unaffordability.jpg", "excerpt" : "In 2025, I’ve interviewed a number of people who saw themselves as living in “survival mode.” At first, their professions might surprise you. They are government contractors, public broadcasters, and tech workers, formerly safe professions. And some of their jobs disappeared this year due to DOGE “efficiency” cuts, the dismantling of the Corporation for Public Broadcasting, and AI acceleration. They are among the millions now living through an experience that I call terra infirma, a new level of economic and social uncertainty.", "content" : "In 2025, I’ve interviewed a number of people who saw themselves as living in “survival mode.” At first, their professions might surprise you. They are government contractors, public broadcasters, and tech workers, formerly safe professions. And some of their jobs disappeared this year due to DOGE “efficiency” cuts, the dismantling of the Corporation for Public Broadcasting, and AI acceleration. They are among the millions now living through an experience that I call terra infirma, a new level of economic and social uncertainty.It’s the mood that encapsulates so much of Trump 2.0. A November 2025 Pew study found that almost half of U.S. adults are uncertain about having enough retirement income. When it comes to health insurance, they may be waiting for their ACA health subsidies to sunset or for their partner’s premiums to skyrocket. Addressing unaffordability and uncertainty is even the newest theme song in politics, most recently in the Maine campaign of gubernatorial candidate, oyster farmer and military veteran Graham Platner.Seventy years ago, the critic Raymond Williams used the term “structure of feeling” to describe a collective emotion that is tied to a time and place, as well as social and economic conditions. Today, our “structure of feeling” is uncertainty. You could even take it further, and call “precarity” the last monoculture as it’s a condition shared by so many Americans. As Astra Taylor, author of The Age of Insecurity: Coming Together as Things Fall Apart, says, insecurity is a “defining feature of our time.”As far as mass moods go, “insecurity” is certainly a disconcerting one. The economist Pranab Bardhan writes in A World of Insecurity, that “insecurity, more than inequality, agitates people.” What makes 2025 different from other years, however, is the degree to which we all experienced this precarity. The usual uncertainty level has been turned up from a whine to a 135-decibel air raid scream.What’s happened? Tariffs have raised our costs. Medicaid will be scaled back over the next decade by a trillion dollars. Meanwhile, dozens of Venezuelan fishermen have been exploded by our armed forces. And while two-thirds of Americans are already living with economic insecurity, their feelings about it don’t necessarily involve the discrepancy between their lot and those of the very rich. As Steven Semler, the co-founder of Security Policy Reform Institute (SPRI), explains it to me, these Americans have a mindset that “is more fearful of poverty than aspirations of being a millionaire.”The people of terra infirma do describe such fears. In the words of one, they’ve experienced a “mental health decline and a loss of purpose” and in another, “a serious financial pinch”, because they are their family’s main breadwinner. Uncertainty is the common refrain of the growing number of laid-off software workers, according to Human-Centered Design scholar Samuel So. In addition to feeling destabilized about their professional security for the first time, software workers have experienced disillusionment and alienation from the technology industry’s “military and police partnerships.” Jobs themselves are part of this insecurity, with never-ending hiring processes, the race of automation, and ghost jobs, the twisted contemporary version of the perished Russian serfs of Nikolai Gogol’s Dead Souls, except now professional opportunities are offered that don’t actually exist. People are also nervous about their future, because insecurity is a temporal emotion, as much about the future as the present. Many of us wonder how our security will further erode, as our health plan premiums soar, or as our subways catch on fire, or as ICE comes to our cities. This causes not only stress in the moment, but discomfort about what lies ahead.Of course, it’s not just Trump 2.0 alone that has caused this. The forces behind Trump’s win in 2024—and the anger at the traditional Democratic party—have something to do with this disposition, as well. In the weeks leading up to Trump’s election, people surveyed by the Federal Reserve Board ranked one of their top concerns as pricing and their top concern as inflation. Disparate phenomena—AI slop, job cuts, relentless and confusing cutbacks in crucial academic research—are entwined. It’s as if they were all figures in a paranoiac Thomas Pynchon novel. In a “world of insecurity,” as economist Bardhan writes, instabilities interlink. In other words, what I think of as “informational insecurity”—bots, false ads, fake news—often joins up with economic instability.These different instances of confusion and instability blend into a gnarly color wheel of distress. Economic distress, sure—that is also accentuated by societal, cultural, environmental, and physical examples of insecurity we see all around us, every day.How do we pick apart these knotted-together insecurities? For starters, we can embrace candidates who address economic uncertainty head-on, including New York’s new mayor, Zohran Mamdani, Seattle’s new mayor, Katie Wilson, and Virginia’s governor-elect Abigail Spanberger. These politicians, as Nicholas Jacobs has written of Maine candidate Platner, are “speaking to grievances that are real, measurable, and decades in the making.”Another line of defense is being brave and grasping for community in any way we can. I think of the ordinary people blowing whistles near Chicago to alert their neighbors when ICE showed up in their suburban towns: they were accidental upstanders, refusing to be part of manufactured uncertainty and instability.One traditional definition of security is “freedom from fear.” And while we are unlikely to experience that freedom from fear as long as the populist American Right continues its goosestep, it’s also important to remember that uncertainty, like any “structure of feeling,” is an unfinished emotion.Yes, insecurity shapes us now. But we, as a collective, are so much more than it. Because even if we are living in a time of such negative uncertainty, it won’t necessarily stay that way. We can still redefine ourselves and, most importantly, recognize we are not alone." } ] }