jeremyrsolomon

America largest nation-building project was Reconstruction with its trials and struggles mirroring foreign policy ever since.*  A century and a half ago, we argued over our extent of control over an outside population, and with the midterm elections this week, such things are still on our minds. From the slogan America First, to questions on supporting Israel, many want to spend resources here, and not “over there”—wherever that happens to be. America continues to wrestle with these debates while Reconstruction offers an overlooked example. No matter where you stand on U.S. intrusions in the world, rest assured, our ancestors fought about the same.

It might be controversial to describe Reconstruction as nation-building. After all, the Confederacy was always a part of America. South Carolina signed the same declaration as New Jersey, and some then argued the southern states never technically left. But the perils of nation-building endeavors fit Reconstruction. The project created new governments, new laws, and new practices of economy. The northern states committed to reforming societies of the states that tried to leave. And the cliched argument of spending too much “blood and treasure” was as applicable in 1870 as it was this week in voting booths. For all practical purposes, America dealt with a foreign power in the Confederacy, facilitating its (re)integration to the USA.

Reconstruction embodied many of the goals and headaches we think of with foreign interventions. There were reforms to the laws of seceded states. There was organized terrorism from the Klan with military practices in response. There were public and private efforts to raise democratic practices, and public weariness from the obstacles. Several years in, people came to see problems at home as too big to worry about the happenings down south. They worried about the economy as much as we do, and the public conceded to the defiant will of former Confederates. We abandoned the hopes of former slaves, saving ourselves from more troubles while leaving behind a noble cause. And since leaving is so often the result of such projects, we should ask we’re willing to stay.

Those favoring a given intervention will argue fighting for an admirable goal with necessary costs. Whether it’s the spread of dictatorships, or threats of a nuclear weapon, there are good reasons to engage. Reasons not only righteous, but necessary for the safety and well-being of America and others. For all our faults, we have ideals that make for the best chance of prosperity in the world. Rebuilding Germany and Japan after World War Two is an example of things working out, and nations like Rwanda could have used our help, as Sudan could today. America has the unique ability to do such good, and we shouldn’t bind our hands in isolation.

But those who object to interventions will make their own strong points. Evidence of our blunders now spans centuries. Individual actors will have their own plans, whether it’s rebellion of the population, or our own troops causing chaos. It’s arrogance to assume we can control everything how we want, and that we’re always the moral force for good. We could talk about Vietnam and Middle-Eastern nations, not to mention atrocities in the Philippines, Latin America, and nations acting as pawns in the Cold War. The U.S. appears like a bad chess player: We stare a long time at the board only to miss a key move the opponent uses to strike. For many, it will appear that the only winning move was not to try at all.

And let’s not forget the personal costs to everyone. In Iraq, many thousands were killed, and for soldiers like a friend of mine, it’s a topic they’d rather avoid. When thinking about this, the cliche came to mind that we can’t make omelettes without breaking eggs. But I felt terrible for making the comparison. The lives of soldiers, civilians, and general destruction cannot be equated to breaking eggs. And even concerns about economy aren’t nothing. With jobs on the line and families to feed, people worry about the future with good reason. Recessions and job numbers affect everything, and such circumstances shouldn’t be thought of as trivial.

Such arguments have been present in 2026 politics. For Republicans, the slogan of America First has included objections to foreign interventions. This created a significant split in the party, leaving those wanting self-restraint at odds with the current administration. Meanwhile, more Americans are questioning support for Israel. And other debates have risen. We’ve argued over the elimination of USAID, continuing support for Ukraine, and the potential defense of Taiwan. Hot topics on foreign policy are everywhere, leaving many of us with an instinct to be done with others’ problems.

My personal hawkish opinions made me support the war in Iran, only to later wonder if it was worth it. Hearing of the first attacks, I thought of the decades of news telling us how much of a problem Iran is. Leaders of all parties didn’t seem to know what to do about them, and I recoiled at the recent killing of thousands of protestors. So I supported rolling the dice, not wanting a nation that says Death to America to have nuclear weapons. But I’ve come to feel the same weariness as Americans in generations past and present. In time, whether right or wrong, the public changes its mind as difficulties mount.

I wonder now, if I were a citizen of 19^th century America, if I would have lasted through the years with fierce support of Reconstruction. I would love to go back and tell the northern states to keep up the good fight. That the charge to democratize the South is just. That America will get through the depression of the 1870s, and that former slaves and their future generations are counting on our grit. But without knowing how things would turn out, worry and self-interest always play a role. I’m as susceptible as anyone to fear the future, become weary of obstacles, and object to the costs.

*Technically, Reconstruction wasn’t America’s first attempt at a foreign intervention. American troops tried to replace the leader of the Muslim city-state Tripoli in 1805. Desperate to stop pirates from seizing American trade ships in the Mediterranean Sea, our troops tried this overthrow. During the Iraq War, I remember reading this history and thinking, “Gosh, this sounds familiar.” [Back]

This post is different from my usual writing. It’s a letter I am sending to Minneapolis leaders about the school system’s proposals to close up to 16 schools in the city, including the one my daughter just started attending. If you are in any way connected to the Minneapolis Public Schools system, please speak out by completing their survey by October 16. Select “Share Your Feedback” to open the survey:

https://www.mpschools.org/about-mps/school-transformation

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On behalf of my family and the Longfellow neighborhood, I’m writing to share the heaviness we feel from the proposals to close schools like Hiawatha Elementary. Minneapolis Public Schools has promoted the plans as “transformation”, but the change would be in no good way for us. The positive spin of this surprising news falls flat as we would live with its repercussions. We have cherished our community, but we would lose a special part of the neighborhood from these plans. Hiawatha and Howe Elementary spark life into this community, and I ask for MPS and residents to understand what we would lose.

For over a decade, my family has lived near Hiawatha’s intersection of 42^nd Avenue South and 42^nd Street. As science-fiction fans, my wife and I often joke that the neighborhood is the center of life, the universe, and everything, and there is heavy truth to it. The area has everything we want, from the Riverview Theater just north, to Minnehaha Falls going south, to the walking trails of the Mississippi River due east. In this place, we’ve paid taxes, volunteered at church, attended block parties, shopped the local stores, and enjoyed connections with neighbors and community groups. Though we live in a small house, it is hard to ask for much else in a home.

But there was a final piece to the puzzle that came to life four weeks ago. We walked our oldest daughter to Hiawatha Elementary for her first day of Kindergarten. For years, we’ve anticipated these days—holding her hand for short walks to drop-offs and pick-ups. We had pulled her from another school the prior year, and with enrollment at Hiawatha and Howe over 70% capacity, there seemed no reason to worry. Life felt complete that first day with the joyful chaos of parents and children filling the school’s halls. Our home had just expanded, and we looked forward to new experiences in our community.

One week later, I awoke to news of proposals to close Hiawatha. My wife had sent me an article, and my heart sank. I read the story, walked to stare at the school, and I no longer felt optimism for our future here. Instead, I saw what might become a giant empty building—a lifeless eyesore the neighborhood will be forced to live with. Cooper Elementary School met this fate in 2005, and public records show at least 33 calls for break-ins and burglaries in a single year. Hiawatha and Howe appear to face the same fate: vacant buildings for vandals. This is the future MPS is proposing for the Longfellow neighborhood, yet somehow calls it a transformation.

If MPS approves one of the plans, I am unsure of our future here. If we stay, we may consider private school. Minnehaha Academy is nearby, and while cost is always concerning, I’d put more trust in their stability than a school board that would close Hiawatha. Alternatively, we might just move. As much as the neighborhood has meant to us, we’re uninterested in living in a universe with a black hole at our doorsteps. These might sound like idle threats, but we represent many who feel scared and untrusting of MPS right now. With Cooper still a dead star in the neighborhood, we don’t understand these proposals, and abandoning schools that already meet the district’s own capacity standards isn’t what Longfellow deserves.

Please hear our plea to vote no to the MPS proposals in November. It’s surprising and unfortunate to face the prospect of these full schools becoming empty ones. I understand there are issues to address in the school system, and I don’t want to speak to the motives or interests of those on the board. I can only express our dismay from hearing that Hiawatha and Howe—schools without enrollment issues—might be shut down. With little notice of this nightmare, MPS will have done a disservice to Longfellow by voting yes to any of these plans. Please help us and our neighbors preserve the community we enjoy calling home.

It’s a controversy from maybe the most replayed foul in the history of women’s basketball. Sophie Cunningham of the Indiana Fever ran for the easy layup, and Di Jonai Carrington threw a clothesline to her cheek. Indiana’s head coach Stephanie White was asked for comment, and instead of supporting Cunningham, she defended Carrington, complimenting the aggression in her general game. Critics couldn’t believe what we heard; the coach appeared to side with an opposing player that left hers with a bloody mouth. But while I understood the objections, I’m not convinced that White is a villain. Pundits concluded that she was indifferent to the well-being of her team, but speculation of motives is difficult, and her comments do not necessarily lead to betrayal. While there are reasons to pause from White’s response to the foul, she may still earn the respect of the Indiana Fever.

Coach White seemed to not feel any outrage for the foul, and her response was unique. As a life-long sports fan, I have watched many coaches and players launch verbal assaults for egregious fouls by opponents. When they voice their anger at reporters, the support for their team is always evident. Never had I heard a coach spend the bulk of their time sharing positive comments about an attacker. Critics and fans will be perplexed how a leader can take such a position, and this wasn’t even the first time White had done it this season. Earlier this year, she had a similarly soft stance when a player shoved their fist onto the throat of star player Caitlin Clark. One time defending the opponent is strange; two is a pattern of indifference—a disconcerting attitude from any head coach.

Media condemned White for her support of Carrington, and the objections seemed reasonable. Sports 101 would teach us that a coach is the team’s greatest advocate—the biggest cheerleader, and its staunchest defender. If a coach appears sympathetic and coddling to an opponent that committed an out-of-line foul, they’re failing the morale of their own team. From here, ripple effects spread through the franchise. Players can become resentful, losing trust in their coach, whether or not they share their feelings publicly. Division and discontent fill the locker room, and it risks failure to win—the greatest measure of success in sports. Losing for lack of talent is understandable; losing from unforced errors is despicable. The media demanded nothing more from White than it would expect from any coach, and critics were vocal in calling for White to be fired.

Other details raise more concerns about Coach White. She claimed to have not seen the replay of the foul, nor to have had a good view of the clothesline. But critics caught imagery showing White watching the foul from behind. And also, it seems odd that a coach wouldn’t catch the replay of such a hard foul. Between the Jumbotron and any number of screens before the press conference, she would have had ample opportunities. And before the next game, White spoke to the media with belligerence, responding to those calling for her firing. With a pounding fist, she objected to anyone questioning her commitment to the Fever. There are famous moments of coaches losing their composure with the press, and this qualified. Critics now held even more ammo to condemn White, calling her unprofessional with further calls for her removal. For the good of the team, they said she had to go.

But despite the narrative of White as a betrayer, there is still room to believe she has the best interest of her players. It’s easy to claim someone is sinister when other factors might explain their words. Consider that White was Carrington’s former coach of two years on the Connecticut Sun. In the second year, Carrington won the award for Most Improved Player, and she became part of the All-Defensive First Team. That’s quite a leap in one season, and it might explain the empathy White felt for her former player. Maybe she has fond memories of Carrington proving her skills and tenacity. Maybe White felt pride for having a part to play in Carrington’s development, prompting her defense. Her history with Carrington can explain the comments—a simpler explanation, and an understandable reaction from a coach about her former player.

The history of the WNBA is also worth considering as influential on White. Women’s basketball has never had the stability other sports will naturally take for granted. If a league has the cash and enthusiasm of a large enough fan base, coaches and players can afford to treat other teams with full-throated tribalism. The WNBA, on the other hand, has faced mockery and ridicule for decades. Critics note their annual revenue losses with the need for the NBA to continually bankroll the league. No NFL coach has ever had to defend the league’s right to exist, so maybe WNBA coaches don’t see team rivalries in the same way. While White wants to win, she might see the entire league as one team. One organization. One beleaguered business that defends itself with pride in its product. So maybe there is a different perspective within the WNBA—one that wouldn’t occur to men to hold in more successful leagues.

We could think of other reasons for White reacting as she did, and while it’s all speculation, is it more-so than the judgments of critics that have called for her firing? Motives are hard to prove, and it shouldn’t be so easy to claim to know someone’s. Belief that White is a disloyal, uncommitted leader is guesswork of the coach’s heart. It’s conspiratorial to think such ill of a coach who has committed their career to leadership of athletes.  If I’m wrong about White, then I’m wrong. Maybe she’s awful, and her locker room is a mess. But I won’t assume deception, nor presume to know what drives her. It’s a bridge too far for me to connect White’s comments about Carrington to betrayal of the Fever. And it’s important for me to remember that media will always be in search of villains. Their opinions are sincere, but popularity demands antagonists.

Cunningham and Clark, for their part, later countered this media narrative by defending Coach White. They hardly sounded like players who felt betrayed by their leader. They were happy to support their coach, though some dismissed their comments. It’s not what they really think, some said. They’re so young and impressionable; they’re just taking marching orders to act like everything is fine. While I find the cynicism relatable, it feels disrespectful to assume their words aren’t their own. It’s dismissive of the players, viewing them as children receiving directions from parents.* Without evidence that they’re lying, it’s just more speculation. Maybe the simpler explanation is in fact the truth: That there is no strife, and the Fever have no resentment of their coach. Maybe White advocate for her players both past and present.

What we conclude of White comes down to whether we believe two things can be true at once: That a coach can show admiration for an aggressive opponent, and the coach can hold unwavering support for their own team. In the end, I’m not sure what to believe. White’s defense of Carrington was unconventional, and it’s possible White was lying about seeing the foul. But there’s also reasonable speculation that can speak of her positively, countering claims of indifference and malice. Cunningham and Clark say she is supportive, and the context of the WNBA leaves enough room to suggest that the players and coaches of different teams will come to support each other. So when the Fever released a statement expressing support for Coach White, maybe it’s actually true. Maybe all is well in the locker room—that Coach White stands with her team, and the Indiana Fever are doing just fine.

*I wonder if we would have the same skepticism of comments from male athletes. Would we dismiss them so easily? Would we question their truthfulness? Would we believe they’re taking orders from the powers that be? It is hard for me to picture two men in the place of Cunningham and Clark, and our reactions being the same.

Imagine the time it takes to publish a poll only for people to misread it in a few seconds. So it was with a Gallup survey showing patriotism between political parties in 2025—36% of Democrats “very” or “extremely” proud of America, versus 92% Republicans. The data was destined for weaponization. With such results, we’ll simplify the results. We’ll leap to lazy conclusions. And we’ll affirm what we already thought about others. In this case, the impression can be that the majority of Democrats dislike America. But as usual, the story is more complex. There is more going on in the hearts of millions of voters, and the numbers deserve a thoughtful review.

I was familiar with the survey when watching a popular YouTuber misrepresent it. He was googling how many Democrats love America, and I knew what was coming.

Oh no, I thought as he typed the question, whispering it to himself. Please don’t. It’s more than you’re…

But that was it. The wheels were in motion; his judgment coming at high speed.

36% of Democrats are proud to … you see! Right there! 64% of Democrats hate America!

He was proud to affirm what he already thought of Democrats, and millions now confirmed their contempt for anyone left of center. It was sad, and there was nothing I could do to stop it.

Now we can be fair to him and his viewers by being open about things that’ll convince us the Democratic Party is anti-American. It’s the side more likely to burn the flag, and to support its legalization. It’s the side that condemns the U.S. for capitalism and systemic racism, from TikTok rage to academia. It’s the side where President Obama’s pastor preached “God Damn America”, while Hasan Piker is one of its most popular commentators today. It’s the side where people fault America for even existing, citing stolen land and historical oppressions. And it’s the side appearing content if not joyful for the murders of Charlie Kirk and a health insurance CEO. Such words and acts are from real elements of the Left, and none of them were pulled from imagination.

But we must do our best to separate these impressions from the thoughts of millions who would take their side in elections. The 77 million Americans who voted for Kamala Harris weren’t celebrating Charlie Kirk’s death. They’re not in the streets burning flags, and they’re not interested in damning America. Many don’t even pay enough attention to grow such feelings; only 36% say they follow news all or most of the time. People lead busy lives while only catching the occasional headline. But online media will immerse us in the loudest voices while studies like the Gallup poll pull us to view the public from 5,000 feet. With the complexity of individuals’ perspectives, it’s unreasonable to judge millions the same as the angriest on their side.

Let’s then take a real look at the poll. The 36% were Democrats saying they’re either extremely (20%) or very (16%) proud to be American. Another 28% were moderately proud, 23% only a little, and 13% not at all. With moderate pride of country, the 28% still have patriotism, but they might not want to put themselves in the same category as “very” or “extremely”. These are strong words, and most of us would hesitate to label ourselves with them on many topics.* Then there are those with only a little pride – 23%. No doubt, it’s a discouraging, suspicious number to some. But the 23% must have found something in their hearts to appreciate the country. So do they hate America? It seems unlikely. If you’re a little proud of something, then you’re likely not vengeful against it.

The 13% not proud at all now become the true candidates for hatred. While this would be the answer for Hasan Piker, I still hesitate to label the lot the same as him. Just as “very” and “extremely” are strong words, so is “hate”. Does “not at all” necessarily translate to hatred in a person? It seems plausible that some instead will have no opinion at all. Maybe their upbringing just didn’t include parades for the Stars and Stripes every 4th. Maybe they simply live lives without a feeling of need for patriotic spirit. They have other things to think about. Other interests. Other priorities. (I was one of them in my younger years.) If we could ask them, maybe some would even be surprised people think they hate America. Maybe some are just indifferent, holding to other things that drive their hopes and worries.

A certain trend in the Gallup data is worth review: The reactions to who becomes president. The poll was in 2025, and only one year earlier, the 36% number was 62%—a 26-point drop, and the single largest shift in the 20-year history of the poll. Republicans or Independents aren’t immune from this either; the former dropped seven points with the 2020 election, and the latter the same after 2024. This shows how many aren’t so much thinking of American principles, but only the latest election. Some Democrats will ask how they can be proud for a nation that elects Donald Trump, and Republicans might ask the same with Joe Biden. Such events are bound to influence people’s thoughts on America.

And current events in general will sway our answers. As late as 2013, the number of Democrats answering as very or extremely was 85%. It’s an unfathomable number today, from only 13 years ago. But the numbers dropped over time, showing that people will change their answers from circumstance. Maybe people turned sour on America when the great hopes of Obama campaigns never materialized. Maybe smart phones started bringing to our eyes endless scenes of perils, shifting our perceptions of reality. And as noted, presidential elections matter. Whatever our opinions, the years of the first Trump administration took a gradual toll on patriotism for both Democrats and independents. These are the things on people’s minds. They show disgruntlement, but maybe not hatred.

My next-door neighbors come to mind when I think of people who might answer this poll. The mother is from Italy, the father from Israel, and last year they became American citizens. The mother is left-leaning with a strong dislike of President Trump. But on the 4th of July, their nine-year old daughter gave our children a beautiful card for the holiday. With red and blue marker, the American flag covers the front with “Happy 250 America” in the blue box. The back has a greeting to our kids, and the inside has a drawing of their family with ours watching fireworks. I ask myself now, knowing some of their political views: Do they hate America? Would I judge them for their answer to this question? Should I judge our neighborhood in the same way, knowing its politics? People are more complicated than we think.

Be considerate of your own neighbors when reading any such poll. This isn’t a defense from someone in the Democratic Party. Nor is it even a claim that patriotism is the greatest virtue to aspire to. It’s a plea to recognize how easily we misread data and condemn others for it. I could name the YouTuber who affirmed people’s hate for Democrats, but he’s just one of many that can skip the work of reading sources. We look for evidence justifying our biases. But life isn’t simple, and our neighbors aren’t either. Think about what might come to their minds when answering this survey, and we might not judge them at all.

*This is just a suspicion, but I wonder if some will stop themselves from answering “very” proud because they think of Republicans. With strong patriotism now only associated with one party, it might be a turnoff for some to see themselves in that way. So they don’t dislike America; they just dislike the other side. [back]

Earlier this year, insights from William Shatner pushed me to an unexpected sorrow. In his book “Boldly Go”, the Star Trek legend wrote of his experience traveling to space in 2021. At age 90, he found himself among the stars in real life, but he discovered a surprising, overwhelming sadness. The universe appeared to him now as a lifeless, endless void with no appeal to explore. And by contrast, the blue globe below him now radiated with life—the one planet we know of that can sustain us. Shatner, an actor who inspired generations to dream of the final frontier, now only spoke of it with grief. But he also took a deep appreciation for our planet, and I want to as well. Earth not only sustains life, but it can fill us with awe if we allow it to.

I found myself on this emotional journey when I watched a video that brings home the awe-inspiring vastness of space. It simulates views of our sun from the surfaces of various planets. Starting on Mercury and moving outward, it becomes smaller and smaller as we travel beyond the solar system. By the end, it’s only one of many stars and other images that flood the universe. With solemn background music, it’s awe-inspiring—beautiful, humbling scenes that can shake any of us from the thoughts of our current troubles. A certain Bible verse can now carried new weight—“The Heavens declare the glory of God”. Immersion in space can force us to find new perspective, as it did for Shatner.

His words about the emptiness of space then came to mind toward the end. I stopped watching the scenes with wonder, feeling a bit of the sorrow that filled Shatner when he broke Earth’s atmosphere. Instead of seeing beauty, the universe now appeared as dead. Lifeless. Empty with no signs of anything worth visiting. The famous phrase from Star Trek’s creed – “To seek out new life and new civilizations” – now rang hollow. What life? What civilizations? So far as we can tell today, they aren’t there. And for William Shatner to be the messenger of this was jarring. It was equivalent to Santa Claus taking off his beard to tell kids he doesn’t exist. There was now only sadness for a universe that has so much, yet so little.

Now none of us know for sure if there is life beyond Earth, and I don’t mean to come down on the idea that there is. I can understand the motivations to believe it’s true. It might be unappealing to believe humanity is the sole source of consciousness in a random universe. And to believe it means there is no new frontier of interest. No prospects for the future exchange of ideas, culture, and new friendships. So I can’t say that Earth is the one and only planet in the universe with flora or fauna.* But if there are other planets like Earth, reaching them would take warp speeds we can still only dream of. So unless aliens are coming down to greet us soon, we are alone, for all practical purposes.

But even with the understandable sadness from Shatner, I don’t want to feel despair about it. And neither did he. The lifelessness of space brought him to see Earth with renewed appreciation. Instead of sorrow, Shatner found hope from the world he had left. Maybe it takes a good stare into the abyss to bring us to gratitude for what we already have. And for myself, I can better understand people who stare at nature for hours in wonder. A sunset. A spider web. An autumn that blankets the land in colorful leaves. An ocean that blinds us with endless blue waves. It turns out, we don’t need a distant galaxy for fulfillment. We can just look outside, and we can feel happiness for what’s at our doorstep.

The beauty of Earth makes me think of the journeys that previous generations took to find new civilizations. The deserts leading to the Nile River. The mountains standing as gates to the greener pastures of Oregon. Spaniards sailed west while Marco Polo walked east. Travelers were compelled to explore distant terrains, but the difference with space is that the travels on Earth always led to life. If the frontier is lifeless, it stops everything that makes a frontier worth exploring. While this isn’t to discourage the ambitions of scientists looking to the stars, but such thoughts have left this Star Trek fan with a new point of view.

We can choose, as Shatner did, to appreciate the earth under our feet. Next winter, I will step into the sub-zero atmosphere of Minnesota. An odd place to find appreciation, but I will still try to hold gratitude. To breathe the chill air of our atmosphere; to stare at the glistening snow on tree limbs; to gaze at the Orion constellation; and to feel happy for having a livable, breathable seat to look at the universe. And when winter thaws, maybe I’ll find a bug to stare at. Or a squirrel. Or even a wasp. It’s life, and it might not be anywhere else in the universe. Earth is a diamond in a land of sand, and while I’ll never tell anyone to stop exploring space, I’ll stare at what’s down here with fulfillment. And so can you.

*In high school, a science teacher took us through a series of calculations that put the odds of life on another planet as astronomical. I can’t remember the equations; I only thought, Wow, Star Trek really feels like fiction now. [back]