June 2026 – About Things That Matter

Zohran Mamdani: Story, Theology & Social Change

Last week Zohran Mamdani strengthened his reputation as a political kingmaker. Congressional candidates he endorsed defeated more traditional opponents in New York City Democratic primaries. Mamdani’s influence is clearly growing.

Watching those results come in, I found myself thinking about a novel I published a few months ago, Against All Odds: How Zohran Mamdani Became President and Changed America Forever. My thoughts also turned to liberation theology and its promise to engage progressives in the current political conversation that depends so heavily on the fundamentalist religious talk that turns so many of us off.

So here I ask you to consider Mamdani’s increasing influence in terms of my novella, liberation theology and Rob Kall’s Arc of Justice Alliance (AJA).

The Arc of Justice Alliance

Start with Rob Kall’s Arc of Justice Alliance. Rob is the editor-in-chief of OpEdNews where I am a senior editor. He and his cohorts (myself included) are anxious to counter the Republican Project 2025 agenda that proposes to remake government by yet more privatization, deregulation, and tax breaks for the rich.

In resonse the AJA refuses to become just one more advocacy group. Instead it aspires to be an infrastructure connecting activists, researchers, educators, writers, faith leaders, organizers, and ordinary citizens into a learning ecosystem that inspires collective action.

The idea is both simple and ambitious. It asks what if organizations could learn from one another systematically? What if successful strategies could be shared, tested, refined, and remembered? What if social movements had a collective intelligence capable of accumulating wisdom rather than repeatedly reinventing the wheel?

It is a compelling vision. Yet infrastructures, however necessary, seldom inspire people by themselves. Roads are essential. Libraries are essential. The internet is essential. Yet no one devotes a lifetime to roads or servers. People devote themselves to purposes and hopes.

And this is where, I think, story enters the picture.

Against All Odds

As a specifically AJA novella, Against All Odds: how Zohran Mamdani became president and changed America forever was never intended as a prediction. It was an exercise in political imagination aimed at illustrating what the AJA might accomplish.

As such, it is increasingly proving to be strangely prescient. It asked what might happen if a young Muslim democratic socialist from New York City somehow became the focal point of a movement capable of transforming American political life. More to my point here, it imagined the emergence to prominence of the Arc of Justice Alliance (AJA), a network of organizations and ordinary citizens who discover their collective power and learn how to act together.

When first published, Against All Odds seemed like pure fantasy. Yet Mamdani’s continuing success suggests that the deeper questions raised by the novel may not be so far-fetched after all.

Why does this particular politician seem to inspire such enthusiasm? Why do so many people see in him possibilities that mainstream politicians cannot?

Christopher Vogler’s The Writer’s Journey suggests an answer. There Vogler draws on Joseph Campbell’s famous analysis of what Campbell called the Hero’s Journey. Across cultures and centuries, human beings have told remarkably similar stories. An unlikely hero leaves the familiar world, confronts powerful adversaries, overcomes fear, discovers hidden strengths, and returns bearing gifts for the community.

In Mamdani millions instinctively have recognized the pattern. They see an outsider confronting entrenched power. They see someone overcoming obstacles that conventional wisdom declared insurmountable. They see a figure who embodies possibilities larger than himself.

Moreover, In Against All Odds, the AJA becomes more than an infrastructure for Mamdani. It becomes a character in its own right. It becomes a collective hero. Mamdani serves as the visible protagonist, but the deeper story concerns ordinary people (AJA associates) discovering their capacity to act together.

Liberation Theology

That connection with ordinary people suggests something else that might enrich the presentation of AJA “philosophy.” I’m referring to liberation theology which I’ve come to describe as “critical faith theory.” More fully I describe it as “reflection on the following of Christ from the viewpoint of the poor and oppressed committed to changing their condition by replacing the structures that have caused it.”

In our present religion-obsessed political context, liberation theology potentially supplies a powerful corrective to the prevailing Christian nationalism.

I say this not because liberation theology is Christian, but because it addresses questions that every movement for justice must eventually confront. Liberation theology asks who benefits from present systems and who pays their costs. It insists that injustice is not simply the result of bad individuals making bad choices. More often it is embedded in institutions, economic systems, political structures, and cultural assumptions.

In that sense, liberation theology complements many of the traditions AJA already embraces. Like Paulo Freire’s Pedagogy of the Oppressed, it insists that liberation cannot be delivered from above. Like Asset-Based Community Development, it recognizes the wisdom already present in ordinary communities. Like Four Arrows‘ Kinship Worldview and Fritjof Capra‘s Living Systems Theory, it understands human beings as fundamentally interconnected.

But liberation theology contributes something distinctive as well. It offers a method for analyzing power.

Too much contemporary political discussion focuses on personalities. Too much religious discussion focuses on individual morality. Liberation theology directs attention toward structures. It asks why poverty persists in wealthy societies. It asks why war remains profitable. It asks why systems repeatedly generate inequality, exclusion, and environmental destruction. It reminds us that social transformation requires more than good intentions.

In today’s political climate, that insight seems especially important because it counters Christian nationalism, and forms of religion that function largely as chaplaincies to wealth and power. Too often religion blesses the status quo. Too often it directs attention away from structures of domination and toward the private lives of individuals.

The Jesus who emerges from liberation theology is very different.

He announces what he calls the Kingdom of God. He proclaims good news to the poor, release to captives, recovery of sight to the blind, and freedom for the oppressed. He blesses the hungry and warns the rich. He overturns tables in the Temple and repeatedly challenges religious and political authorities. The central question of his ministry is not, “How do I get to heaven?” It is, “What kind of world does God intend for God’s children, and how do we begin building it here and now?”

That question lies close to the heart of every authentic movement for justice.

Indeed, as I read through the philosophical foundations of AJA, I am struck by how often they converge on a common insight. Whether we approach the matter through the Kinship Worldview, Partnership Theory, the Evolved Nest, Freire’s pedagogy, Living Systems Theory, Asset-Based Community Development, the Universal Declaration of Human Rights, or liberation theology, we encounter the same broad conclusion. Human beings flourish not through domination but through relationship. Not through hierarchy but through participation. Not through fear but through solidarity.

Conclusion

Perhaps that is why Mamdani’s recent success (anticipated in Against All Odds) matters.

It is not simply that a politician has accumulated influence. It is that many people seem hungry for a story larger than cynicism and fear. They are searching for evidence that ordinary citizens can still shape history. They are looking for a way beyond the politics of resentment and despair.

Christopher Vogler would probably recognize what is happening. The hero’s journey is never finally about the hero. It is about the transformation of the community to which the hero returns.

If that is true, then the most important lesson of Mamdani’s story may be that the hero we have been waiting for is not a single person at all. It may be the emergence of a people who finally discover their collective power and begin using it to create a more just and compassionate world.

That ultimately is the goal of the Arc of Justice Alliance too.

In Memoriam: Michele DuRivage (1953-2026)

Last Friday, our family celebrated a memorial for my wife Peggy’s sister, Michele (Mitchy) DuRivage, a mother, wife, sister, sister-in-law, aunt, cousin, acquaintance and friend who transitioned from this life several weeks ago. After the funeral Mass in Katonah NY, we all gathered at our daughter Maggie’s splendid green house in nearby Westport CT to share reflections on Michele’s life. What follows are my remarks as I remember them in somewhat expanded form:

When someone dies, there is always a temptation to simplify them. We smooth out the rough edges. We make them easier than they really were. But Mitchy would have hated that. She refused performance in life, and she would not want performance now.

She was a truth seeker. She cared far less about what people thought of her than about whether something was true. In a world built so much on appearances, and social performance, that could make her difficult for some people. Her refusal to pretend was sometimes interpreted as selfishness or entitlement. A former friend once described her as “the most aggressively entitled person I have ever met.”

But I came to see something else in her.

In the process of helping her write her memoir, I came to see a woman who simply could not comfortably live inside lies — not personal lies, not social lies, not emotional lies. She was outspokenly aware that she lived in a dishonest world. As a result, she was often dismissed as a conspiracy theorist. But Mitchy herself once said something quite unforgettable because it has so often proven true: “The difference between a conspiracy theory and the truth is about six months.”

That line was funny. But it was also revealing. Mitchy distrusted appearances. She kept looking beneath surfaces. Sometimes she was wrong, as we all are. But she was committed to honesty in a way many people never dare to be.

Her memoir made that especially clear to me. Before we worked together, I realize now that I had never known her very well. Through telling her story, I discovered someone morally sensitive almost to a fault. She was haunted by guilt over tragedies for which she bore no real responsibility — especially the death of her sister Suzy when Mitchy was a mere adolescent. That kind of unnecessary guilt does not come from lack of conscience, but from an excess of it. Mitchy felt things deeply.

She was also a woman with a powerful sense of beauty. She was a photographer, someone who trained herself to notice light, texture, faces, moments. She carried that same artistic instinct into the way she dressed and presented herself. She loved fashion, elegance, style — not, I think, out of vanity, but because she wanted life itself to be beautiful. She understood that beauty matters.

And she was deeply committed to the people she loved, especially as a mother. Beneath the toughness, beneath the sharp observations and fierce honesty, there was loyalty and protectiveness.

Over time, I grew to love Mitchy very much as we together finished what amounts to her last will and testament which inevitably evokes thoughts about our own endings and what we’re leaving behind.

Mitchy was tough. Passionate. Self-respecting. Honest sometimes to the point of danger. She laughed at herself — and of course at everybody else too. She loved nature. She liked getting dressed up for a drink and to work in her garden. She made mistakes and could admit them without endless defensiveness or self-justification. In that sense, she taught something important about love itself.

She taught us that love is not pretending.

Love tells the truth. Love admits weakness. Love keeps its eyes open. Love refuses falseness. Love remains passionate despite disappointment. Love laughs. Love suffers. Love keeps searching.

That is the Mitchy I came to know.

And now, whatever we believe lies beyond this life, I hope she has found what she spent so much of her life searching for — peace, truth, beauty, and freedom from the burdens she carried too long.

May she rest in peace.

Our 50th Wedding Anniversary in Greece

I’ve been away from my blog for too long. But I have a good excuse.

From the 5^th to the 15^th of June Peggy and I along with our whole immediate family including our 8 grandchildren were partying – on the island of Sifnos in Greece. The reason? June 5^thhappened to be Peggy’s and my 50^th wedding anniversary.

Yes, 50 years! And what a journey that has been. Peggy recounted it in a beautiful book of photos she gave me in Greece. It reminded everyone that we had met at Berea College in 1974. It reminded me that Peggy captured my heart immediately.

Two years later we tied the knot.

Then beginning in 1979 our children blessed our union, Maggie, Brendan, and Patrick. Together and often accompanied by students and Berea faculty, we traveled the world trying to understand it (with the help of scholars like Paulo Freire and Franz Hinkelammert) “from below,” i.e., from the viewpoint of the world’s majority impoverished by colonialism and neocolonialism. That entailed studying in Europe (especially Italy, and Spain) Brazil, Nicaragua, El Salvador, Costa Rica, Honduras, Zimbabwe, South Africa, Israel-Palestine, India, Mexico, and (perhaps most importantly) Cuba.

L-R: Baba, Gaga, Brendan, Patrick, Maggie

Now we have eight grandchildren: Eva, Oscar, Orlando, Markandeya, Sebastian, Genevieve, Madelein, and Sophie. All of them were with us in Sifnos.

L-R: Orlando, Oscar, Sebastian, Gaga, Genevieve, Baba, Markandeya, Eva, Sophie,

Our daughter, Maggie, had arranged everything. And it was completely wonderful. It began with our first Business-Class flight to Athens via Emirate Airlines. I never experienced such travel luxury. That was followed by a 2-hour ferry trip to splendid accommodations on Sifnos where we lodged in a multi-unit complex, and we were the only guests.

Our daughter Maggie and son-in-law, Kerry

Each morning began with an elaborate breakfast with all of us seated around a long outdoor table. Half of our dinners were similarly presented. For the rest, we all traveled to wonderful nearby restaurants. One day was spent “at sea” on a catamaran yacht that took us to a large cave where we watched bats flying overhead and to several bays on the Aegean for swimming and snorkeling. On a mountain bordering one of those bays, our son-in-law, Kerry and 2 of our grandsons, Orlando and Sebastian, climbed up to a big-horned mountain goat to feed him lettuce by hand – even little Sebastian at just 5 years old.

Our best experiences however were family interactions. What a joy to watch our grandchildren (the eldest nearly 18 and the youngest 3) exhibiting their unique personalities conversing and playing games involving baseball, basketball, throwing a football, swimming, ping-pong, board games and just chilling out alongside the swimming pool.

And then there were the adult conversations over dinner always initiated by Maggie with leading questions about Peggy’s and my courtship or more generally about e.g., “an experience you’ve had involving cars,” or “an embarrassment you’ve survived.” Those conversation-starters always led to revealing and endearing revelations we’d otherwise never have known. Of course, each story was followed by a toast.

And then there were the hours that Peggy and I shared seated on our Sifnos beach reading and talking – rehearsing the blessings and growth experiences our life together has provided.

For me, the entire Greek adventure was topped off by my first helicopter ride from Sifnos to Athens to visit the Parthenon with Eva and Orlando. I loved it. For some inexplicable reason, even though I had spent 5 years in nearby Rome (1967-’72) I had never seen Athens. I’m glad I didn’t pass it up this time.

So, I hope you’ll understand why my blog-silence has been so resounding just lately. Thanks to Maggie and Kerry, there was good reason. And it was all truly extraordinary and unforgettable.

Thirteen Necessary Reforms Dictated By Pope Leo’s Magnifica Humanitas

Pope Leo XIV’s Magnifica Humanitas (MH) may well prove to be one of the most important moral documents of the twenty-first century. At a moment when artificial intelligence is being celebrated as humanity’s next great leap forward—or feared as its greatest threat—the pope offers something largely absent from public discussion: a coherent moral framework.

Most political leaders approach AI in terms of profits, national competition, military advantage, or technological inevitability. Leo approaches it differently. He asks what AI means for human dignity, for the poor, for workers, for peace, for the environment, and for the future of the human family.

In doing so, he reminds us that technology is never neutral. It always serves some vision of humanity. The question is whether that vision promotes what the pope calls our magnifica humanitas—our magnificent humanity—or undermines it.

A careful reading of Leo’s document suggests not only moral principles but also practical reforms. Before considering those reforms, however, we must understand the context in which AI has emerged.

The Context of Artificial Intelligence

Artificial intelligence did not descend from heaven. It emerged within a specific economic and political system. That system has allowed a handful of corporations and investors to appropriate what is, in reality, humanity’s common intellectual inheritance. AI depends upon generations of publicly funded research, the collective labor of millions of workers, and vast quantities of information created by society as a whole. Yet its profits are increasingly concentrated in the hands of a tiny elite (MH ¶67, ¶108-109).

As the Monthly Review editor John Bellamy Foster argues in his essay, “The Fetishism of AI,” public discussion often treats artificial intelligence as if it were an independent force acting on history. In reality, AI is produced, owned, and directed by specific corporations and billionaires pursuing specific interests. The technology itself becomes fetishized. Attention is focused on the machine while the human beings controlling it disappear from view. The result is a staggering concentration of wealth and power.

Today, according to numerous economic studies, the richest fractions of one percent possess wealth exceeding that owned by billions of people combined. Some have referred to this elite as the “Epstein Class”—not because all its members participated in Jeffrey Epstein’s crimes, but because Epstein’s network exposed the degree to which wealth can place individuals beyond accountability.

Many among this elite openly support forms of transhumanism. They dream of transcending ordinary human limitations through technology while expressing contempt for those rendered economically unnecessary by automation. Terms such as “surplus populations” and “useless eaters” increasingly appear at the margins of elite discourse.

Meanwhile, perpetual warfare continues across the globe. The victims are overwhelmingly the poor. AI increasingly guides surveillance systems, targeting systems, drone warfare, and battlefield decision-making. Human judgment is steadily displaced by algorithmic processes whose operations remain hidden from public scrutiny (MH ¶109).

At the same time, those displaced by wars, climate disasters, and economic disruption are often denied the right to migrate. Wealthy nations that benefit most from the global economic order increasingly close their borders against the refugees produced by that order. They become disposable bodies.

Nor are environmental consequences taken seriously enough. Massive AI data centers consume enormous quantities of electricity and water. They generate noise pollution, strain local infrastructure, and are often located in areas lacking the political power to resist them. Once again, the burdens fall disproportionately upon the vulnerable (MH ¶67).

It is precisely this context that makes Pope Leo’s intervention so important.

Leo’s Moral Principles

Rather than beginning with technological capability, Leo begins with moral responsibility.

The first principle is the Common Good. Society exists not principally to maximize profits or technological advancement but to ensure that every person has access to the conditions necessary for a fully human life. Economic systems, political institutions, and technologies must be evaluated according to whether they promote human flourishing for all (MH ¶63-64).

Closely related is the principle of the Universal Destination of Goods. Catholic social teaching has long insisted that while private property can be legitimate, the earth and its resources ultimately belong to everyone. Property rights are therefore not absolute. They remain subordinate to the needs of the human family as a whole (MH ¶65-67).

Third is Subsidiarity. Decisions should be made at the lowest level capable of addressing a problem effectively. Those most directly affected by policies should have a meaningful voice in shaping them. This principle challenges the tendency of distant corporations and centralized bureaucracies to impose decisions upon communities without consultation (MH ¶68-70).

Fourth is Solidarity. Human beings are bound together in a single moral community. National borders do not erase obligations to others. Neither do differences of race, religion, nationality, or economic status. The suffering of one part of the human family ultimately concerns us all (MH ¶71-77).

Finally, there is Social Justice. Every human being possesses inherent dignity. The measure of a society is not how it treats the wealthy and powerful but how it treats the poor, immigrants, refugees, workers, the disabled, and those pushed to the margins (MH ¶78-81).

These principles provide a moral compass for addressing the challenges posed by AI.

Thirteen Necessary Reforms

If we take Leo’s teaching seriously, at least thirteen reforms follow.

1. Begin a Worldwide Democratic Conversation About AI

The future of artificial intelligence is too important to be determined solely by corporations, military planners, and technical experts. Citizens everywhere must participate in discussions about AI’s benefits, risks, and regulation (MH ¶64, ¶96).

2. Include AI Itself as a Participant in Democratic Deliberation

Artificial intelligence should not merely be the object of public discussion. It should also become one of the participants in that discussion. Citizens, scientists, workers, labor unions, environmentalists, religious leaders, public officials, and AI systems themselves should be invited to contribute their insights regarding the benefits, dangers, and regulation of artificial intelligence. AI should not be granted decision-making authority over human affairs. Nevertheless, its capacity to process information, identify patterns, and generate alternative perspectives may enrich democratic deliberation and help humanity avoid blind spots that would otherwise remain invisible.

3. Declare AI a Public Utility

Artificial intelligence increasingly functions like electricity, transportation, or communication infrastructure. It has become too important to leave entirely in private hands. Public ownership or strong public control should ensure that its benefits are widely shared (MH ¶65-67, ¶108-109).

4. Break Up AI Monopolies

The concentration of AI development in a few corporations threatens democracy itself. Existing anti-trust laws, including the Sherman Anti-Trust Act, should be vigorously enforced. No corporation should possess unchecked control over technologies that affect billions of lives (MH ¶67, ¶108-109).

5. Establish a United Nations AI Regulatory Authority

AI governance requires international coordination. A global regulatory body should include scientists, workers, environmental advocates, religious leaders, government officials, community representatives, and citizens affected by AI development. Special weight should be given to communities bearing the greatest burdens (MH ¶64, ¶68-70).

6. Limit Extreme Wealth Concentration

The greatest danger posed by AI may not be the technology itself but the power accumulated by those who control it. Following Franklin Roosevelt’s example, extremely high incomes should face steep taxation. No individual requires billions of dollars while millions lack basic necessities.

7. Tax AI Profits to Repair Social and Environmental Damage

Relatedly, corporations benefiting from AI should help pay for the consequences of its deployment. Revenue generated through progressive taxation should fund environmental remediation, worker retraining, community development, public services, and a universal basic income available to all (see below). Such measures are consistent with Leo’s insistence that economic activity and private property remain subordinate to the common good and the universal destination of goods (MH ¶63-67).

8. Make Government the Employer of Last Resort

As artificial intelligence eliminates jobs across entire sectors of the economy, governments must guarantee meaningful employment for all who seek it. Following proposals advanced by Jeremy Rifkin in The End of Work, public employment programs could address urgent unmet needs in environmental restoration, renewable energy development, elder care, childcare, education, public health, infrastructure repair, cultural preservation, and community development. Human beings should never be discarded merely because machines can perform certain tasks more cheaply. [While Leo does not explicitly endorse an Employer of Last Resort policy, his commitment to the dignity of work and the common good points strongly in this direction (MH ¶63–64, ¶78–81)].

9. Nationalize Arms Production

The integration of AI into warfare creates extraordinary dangers (MH ¶109). Nationalizing weapons production would reduce costs as well as incentives to promote conflict for profit and subject military technologies to greater democratic oversight.

10. Establish a Guaranteed Universal Income

Workers displaced by artificial intelligence should receive a guaranteed universal income sufficient to ensure a dignified life. Such income must be truly guaranteed. It should not depend upon political loyalty, ideological conformity, or bureaucratic discretion. Governments should not possess the power to punish dissent by threatening a person’s livelihood. Economic security is a prerequisite for authentic freedom of speech and democratic participation.

[Again: While Leo does not explicitly advocate a universal income, the proposal follows naturally from his insistence that economic arrangements must serve human dignity and social justice (MH ¶63–67, ¶78–81).]

11. Transform Schools into Palaces of Learning

As artificial intelligence increasingly assumes many tasks once performed by human beings, education must recover its original purpose. Schools should become what Marianne Williamson calls “Palaces of Learning”—places devoted not merely to job preparation but to human formation. Students should be introduced, at age-appropriate levels, to the Good, the True, and the Beautiful, as well as to the ethical principles underlying a just society. Education should help them move beyond egocentrism and ethnocentrism toward world-centrism and a sense of responsibility for the entire human family. While Pope Leo does not explicitly call for such educational reform, the proposal follows naturally from his insistence that technology remain subordinate to human dignity and integral human development (MH ¶63-64, ¶71-81, ¶96).

12. Create a Secretary of Peace

Every cabinet contains officials devoted to war preparation. Few governments possess equivalent institutions devoted to peace. A Secretary of Peace could evaluate conflicts, promote diplomatic solutions, and ensure that ethical considerations receive attention before military action is taken (MH ¶96, ¶109).

13. Learn from Other Nations

The United States often assumes it has little to learn from others. That assumption is increasingly untenable. Nations such as China have experimented with forms of long-term planning and regulation that deserve serious study. We need not imitate any system wholesale. But intellectual humility requires examining successful practices wherever they are found (MH ¶64).

Conclusion

One of the most striking aspects of contemporary American politics is the number of public officials who identify themselves as Catholics while rarely engaging the substance of Catholic social teaching. Vice President J.D. Vance identifies as Catholic. Several members of the Supreme Court identify as Catholic. Many elected officials invoke their faith when discussing abortion, religious liberty, or personal morality.

Magnifica Humanitas raises a broader set of moral questions. What obligations do governments have toward workers displaced by automation? What responsibilities do corporations have toward communities harmed by data centers? How should nations treat migrants fleeing wars and climate disasters? What limits should be placed on wealth accumulation? How should AI be regulated when it threatens peace, privacy, and democratic accountability?

These are not peripheral questions. They go to the heart of the pope’s teaching.

Every Catholic public official should therefore be asked a simple question whenever major decisions about AI, economics, immigration, warfare, or environmental policy arise: How does this decision reflect the principles of Magnifica Humanitas?

If the answer is clear, they should explain it. If the answer is not clear, they should explain that too. For Pope Leo’s central insight is difficult to escape. Technology alone will not save us. Markets alone will not save us. Military power certainly will not save us. The introduction of AI causes us to reevaluate our basic principles.

Only a renewed commitment to human dignity, solidarity, justice, and the common good can ensure that artificial intelligence serves humanity rather than humanity serving artificial intelligence (MH ¶63-81, ¶96). Leo insists that digital infrastructures, algorithms, and emerging technologies must be evaluated according to whether they serve the good of all, especially the most vulnerable, rather than the interests of a privileged few (MH ¶96, ¶108-109). That is the challenge Leo has placed before us.

Whether we accept it remains one of the defining questions of our age.