Crime victim service nonprofits in Michigan sound alarm for decreases in federal funding

Pinwheels in downtown Lansing mark the Children's Trust Fund's 14th annual Child Abuse Prevention Awareness Day rally, April 26, 2022 | Laina G. Stebbins
Groups that provide crime victims access to emergency shelter, counseling, food assistance and more are at risk of closing as federal funding for victim services has been on a steady decline in recent years while need has increased in Michigan, nonprofit groups in the state are warning.
Prevention is a key tool in fighting against domestic and sexual violence, Betsy Huggett, director of the Diane Peppler Resource Center in Sault Ste. Marie told the Michigan Advance, but trims to federal funding have meant community programs to build awareness for violence for students haven't been possible as the center operates in 'famine' mode.
The center's staff of 14 wear a lot of hats in order to maintain the shelter for survivors and their families and ensure individuals and their loved ones can exit dangerous living situations, Huggett said. She said she's proud that the center has navigated many storms like keeping the majority of its staff on the payroll during the COVID-19 pandemic, but she wonders how much more the organization could do if it had more sustainable funding.
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'We know the rug could be pulled out from under us at any time so we just keep staying in the famine mindset…there were a lot of things that we used to be able to do that made a huge impact in the community,' Huggett said.
The Victims of Crime Act, or VOCA, the main federal funding program distributing states funds to provide services to victims of crimes such as child abuse, domestic and sexual assault, elder abuse and more has seen steep decreases nationwide in recent years.
Michigan saw a 42% chop in VOCA funding for victim services last year compared to the 2023 VOCA amount which is funded by fines and penalties from federal cases, with a large portion coming from the prosecution of white collar financial crime which has been on a years-long decline, expected to decline further under President Donald Trump.
Michigan, like most states, has taken on the cost burden of keeping domestic violence shelters and other resources open by supplementing the funds lost through use of the state budget. However, Michigan is still falling short as it struggles to maintain funding levels while the cost of services has shot up, Johanna Kononen, director of law and policy for the Michigan Coalition to End Domestic and Sexual Violence, or MCEDSV, told the Advance.
The 2024 fiscal year Michigan state budget allocated $30 million for victim services being provided by more than 100 organizations across the state. Now MCEDSV is seeking $75 million for organizations in the state budget through a campaign, '75 Saves Lives' to encourage lawmakers crafting the next budget to recognize the consequences for crime victims if organizations aren't able to provide services.
When it comes to topics like domestic and sexual violence, which hold stigma and shame in conversations, there can be an illusion that those kinds of crimes happen to other people and don't impact the lives of all Michiganders, Kononen said.
But nationwide estimates find that more than half of women and almost one in three men will experience sexual violence in their lifetime while domestic violence impacts 10 million Americans annually, including intimate partner violence and child abuse.
'Oftentimes, it's easy to [say] 'this hasn't happened to me and so this isn't impacting me. Why should we prioritize this as a state?'. But unfortunately, statistically speaking, if you don't know someone who's been impacted by domestic or sexual violence, it's because they haven't told you,' Kononen said.
Nobody wants to think about sexual violence, especially when it comes to children being the victims, Melissa Werkman, President of Children's Advocacy Centers of Michigan said, but the reality is 1 in 7 children have experienced abuse or neglect in the last year in the U.S. which equals about 300,000 of Michigan's kids.
VOCA dollars almost exclusively fund the frontline workers at Michigan's 40 children's advocacy centers, Werkman told the Advance, meaning the forensic interviewers for children who've experienced violence, victim advocates who guide families towards healing after abuse and medical professionals who offer care, all at low to no cost.
The goal of children's advocacy centers is to respond to violence in a child's life in a way that is geared towards them and their healing amidst systems that were not built for children, Werkman said. When talking to the public about the value of the centers, Werkman said a lot of people expect the centers to be shrouded in discomfort, sadness and confusion, but the truth is this work helps kids get back to being kids.
'The kids are excited to come to their therapy appointments. They walk right in and they know the intake coordinator and they're excited to see the therapy dog. That is what we give kids back. We most importantly beyond the justice aspect of it, beyond the advocacy aspect and therapy aspect, we give kids their agency back,' Werkman said.
Without VOCA, there are no children's advocacy centers, Werkman said, because as much as 85% of a center's budget can come from those federal funds. Given the decline in funding, children's advocacy centers in Michigan on average are operating on a funding gap of over $100,000 and smaller rural centers providing care to multiple counties where resources are strained are most at risk of closing their doors.
Having to stop funding a counselor or close down a shelter is a terrible decision for a victim organization to face, but it's especially ominous for tribal communities where some programs for an area have only one victim advocate and there is only one tribal domestic and sexual violence shelter in the state, Stacey Ettawageshik, executive director of Uniting Three Fires Against Violence said to the Advance.
Uniting Three Fires Against Violence, a tribal victim advocacy group providing training and advocacy for the 12 tribal programs in Michigan providing domestic and sexual violence care, has done a lot of work to get tribal issues a voice in Lansing, Ettawageshik said. For a demographic of people who experience violence at a drastically disproportionate rate than their white counterparts, Ettawageshik said tribal groups have worked 10 times as hard as other violence programs to get their portion of funding.
There's a historic lack of trust in non-tribal organizations claiming to help Native Americans, an example being Indian residential schools in Michigan which stole hundreds of Anishinaabe children from their homes and subjected them to years of abuse and culture erasure, Ettawageshik said.
Pain and resilience: The legacy of Native American boarding schools in Michigan
Tribal programs come from a trauma-formed approach that includes historical knowledge of how violence has impacted Michiganders from tribal communities and can administer culturally honoring services and sacred medicines like sage, cedar, sweet grass and tobacco, Ettawageshik said.
'We've come so far [with] tribal programs getting access to these resources in the first place that it will just be taken away in a heartbeat and where does that leave us?,' Ettawageshik said. 'That leaves us back at square one… losing that funding. Losing that support is going to make a huge impact on our communities that already experience higher levels of substance use, homelessness, increased violence and that violence is really committed most of the time by non-natives.'
While President Donald Trump's administration has placed a strong focus on cutting what it labels as erroneous federal spending and usage of taxpayer dollars for programs not aligning with the administration's values, Kononen said it's imperative for residents and policymakers to understand that VOCA is funded through criminals having to pay for their crimes.
'I think it's very easy for people to see what's happening in the federal government and think that that's something that's happening really far away… that doesn't have anything to do with me here in my town in Michigan and the services that my community needs,' Kononen said. 'It's a tricky topic to broach with people, and it makes it seem kind of academic like this is a line item in the budget when these are real people who are getting life-saving help.'

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Politico

an hour ago

• Politico

Experience vs. inspiration: New York City mayoral race mirrors national Dem divide

ALBANY, New York — Andrew Cuomo has settled on a closing argument in his quest to win the Democratic nomination to be New York City's next mayor: His top challenger, Zohran Mamdani, is far too inexperienced for the job. It's a perceived vulnerability Cuomo is seizing on in a race otherwise focused on affordability, Mamdani's rhetoric on Israel and the long record of an ex-governor who has been in politics since 1977, when he worked on his father Mario Cuomo's mayoral campaign. Cuomo is zooming in on his own achievements — enshrining same-sex marriage into state law, revamping LaGuardia Airport and his popular televised Covid briefings. Mamdani, in turn, highlights Cuomo's corruption scandals, the sexual misconduct allegations against him — which he denies — and the missteps of his pandemic management. But as polling in the race tightens and Mamdani continues to excite his base, Cuomo is honing in on his 33-year-old chief rival's lack of executive experience. 'It is certainly a microcosm of what we're likely to see over the next few years, and I think you'll see a significant number of midterm primaries have this similar dynamic,' said Jon Paul Lupo, a New York City consultant who is not involved in the mayor's race. 'We're seeing it play out at the DNC with David Hogg and what role he played. There is a group of young and up-and-coming operatives, candidates and — quite frankly — voters that are frustrated with the direction of the party and they're looking for not just change from the party, but a different kind of candidate.' In Mamdani, they have just that. He's not just bringing something new, he's being resoundingly rejected by the establishment: Mike Bloomberg has spent $8.3 million to help Cuomo defeat him, the New York Times editorial board eviscerated him in a piece focused more on his shortcomings than anyone else's attributes, and most city unions lined up behind Cuomo. The race is now as much about youth against political seasoning as it is about the socialist Mamdani versus the moderate Cuomo. Voters throughout the country are frustrated with their current leadership, public displays of anger at events like town halls are increasingly common, and Sen. Chuck Schumer is seeing his worst-ever poll numbers in his home state. Incumbents are unpopular at the moment. And as New York City Mayor Eric Adams sits out the primary to instead run as an independent in the general election, Cuomo is in many ways viewed as the incumbent candidate. 'We have a person running for mayor against me who has been an assemblyman for two terms — five years,' Cuomo, who's 67, said at a rally last week. 'Five staff members who worked for him. New York City — you have 300,000 employees. He's never worked with the City Council, never worked with the Congress, never negotiated things with the labor union, never even dealt with President Trump. Don't tell me he's ready to be mayor of the greatest city on the globe. No way.' Unlike Alexandria Ocasio-Cortez's surprise upset in 2018, in several races for New York's top jobs over the past decade, hype about shifting to a fresh face on the left has fizzled. This year's mayoral race is now the clearest bellwether of whether there might actually be more seismic changes at hand. Do Democratic voters want battle-proven — and battle-scarred — veterans, or are they willing to roll the dice and go with leaders who might take the party in a bold new direction — or flop spectacularly? Experience is Cuomo's 'number one argument,' said Cynthia Nixon, who lost to Cuomo in the 2018 gubernatorial primary and now backs Mamdani. 'It's one thing if you've been in office for a long time and you have a record that you can be proud of. Cuomo has the opposite.' Mamdani's thin governmental record allows for the ultimate test of whether Democrats are willing to move toward energetic fresh faces with minimal experience. He was elected as a true outsider in 2020. Prior to winning office, he had only made two visits to the Capitol, both for housing advocacy. Due to Covid, candidates running that year got far less scrutiny than in any modern New York election — there were no public events, state politics was overshadowed by a presidential race, and the Albany press corps was focused on Cuomo's pandemic briefings. The Zoom-era timing also meant Mamdani didn't engage in the typical bonding and glad-handing with new legislative colleagues. 'There's no equivalent of getting in an elevator with somebody,' he said in a 2021 interview. 'Virtual also creates a lot more of a conduit for tension versus in-person, because you're able to understand the humanity of someone a little bit more than when they're just a little square on the screen.' His promise to legislate with an 'understanding that the status quo has failed us' — and, perhaps, his lack of immersion into the system as a freshman — have kept him an outsider among Albany's Democrats. Mamdani's status on the fringes was highlighted by a bill he introduced in 2023 that would ban New York charities from supporting Israeli settlers. The backlash was swift: Assembly leadership immediately dubbed it a 'non-starter,' a rarity in a legislative body whose leaders usually wait for internal party discussions before weighing in. Twenty-five of his fellow Democrats released a letter condemning the measure as designed to 'antagonize pro-Israel New Yorkers.' The democratic socialist was aware at the time that his break with the tradition of New York politicians offering full-throated support for Israel would indeed antagonize his colleagues — and it's a subject that's continued to lead to tensions, with fellow members quick to point out actions like his failure to endorse a resolution condemning the Holocaust. He characterized the charity bill as an attempt to plant seeds for a longer-term fight. 'The simple act of introducing this legislation [helps] change the calculus,' Mamdani said at the time. But mayors don't get to spend as much time focused on the long haul — if garbage isn't being picked up on time, most New Yorkers won't be too satisfied if City Hall promises a solution in a decade. And when it comes to the type of negotiating a mayor needs to engage in to win approval for their priorities in Albany or the City Council, his record is scant. Mamdami's biggest achievements have come outside the regular legislative process. He played a major role in taxi drivers' successful 2021 push for debt relief. He helped win a pilot program for free bus rides — now a central plank in his mayoral campaign — but kiboshed its renewal when he cast a protest vote against last year's budget, rather than play ball with his colleagues and take the win. He also points to his support for a 2023 law that lets the state build its own green energy plants. 'That's not my legislation. The passage of it is not considered a bill that I have passed,' Mamdani said recently. 'I spent so much of my time fighting for it because I knew that, were we to pass it, we could actually take a real step towards taking on the climate crisis. And I think too often, much of our work in politics is focused on ensuring that you receive credit for the work that you do.' Despite his opinion, his lack of clearly delineated achievements has provided opponents with a ready-made cudgel. Cuomo has hammered Mamdani for passing only three laws in his time as an Assemblymember. That's the 235th highest total since he took office in a Legislature in which 213 members serve at a time. That apparent lack of productivity stems at least in part from the fact that he's a rank-and-file member in a legislative body where more than 100 Democrats want their bills prioritized. 'It's a pretty common experience for many legislators in their first few years in the Assembly or Senate to pass very few bills,' former Assemblymember Dick Gottfried said. Gottfried said assessing a lawmaker through the number of bills they approve isn't a great barometer of how they might perform as an executive: 'Every year in the Legislature, I personally got a lot of bills passed, but you would not have wanted me to be the mayor even of a small village.' But the lack of an in-depth passage record, coupled with the few bills he's authored, means Mamdani doesn't bring many specifics about his policy background for voters to glean. One of the three laws he's responsible for let the Museum of the Moving Image apply for a liquor license. Another allowed people to petition state agencies to hold public hearings. But he didn't come up with that idea — the legislation had been lingering since 1995 and had previously passed the Assembly 14 times under five different sponsors. His third bill, enacted in 2022, tweaked that 2021 law. Then, during the most recent legislative session, he passed a fourth bill — that would bump back the law's expiration date. The passage of the 2022 version of the petitioning law was the only time he's ever engaged in a back-and-forth debate during his time in the Legislature. He hoped the bill would leave 'New Yorkers feeling that they have a place in this government, that their voices are heard,' he said. 'This is, for me, the essence of socialism, which is the extension of democracy from the ballot box to the rest of our society of the ability of each and every person to have control over their own lives.' The remarks did not win over his detractors. 'Labeling this bill the extension of socialism makes me reaffirm my negative vote,' said then-Assemblymember Mike Lawler, his chief sparring partner in the debate. Mamdani has spoken on the floor on a handful of other bills over the years, and often his remarks focused on issues of identity — he voted against the Democrats' 2022 redistricting plan, for example, because it didn't create a new district for his fellow South Asians elsewhere in Queens. He criticized the governor's priorities in the state budget and supported legalized marijuana: 'Smoking or ingesting marijuana may also lead to becoming an elected official,' he said about claims that it's a gateway drug. By and large, Mamdani has remained outside regular power structures in Albany, meaning even those who deal with the Assembly the most can't predict what a Mamdani City Hall might look like. Lobbyists surveyed by POLITICO — including those supportive of causes he appears aligned with, like environmental and criminal justice issues — say they haven't engaged with him much, or even met him at all. His name only appears on Gov. Kathy Hochul's schedules once in the past four years, when attending a dinner joined by 21 members of the Queens delegation. One of the most important questions for any inexperienced executive is how they will fill out their administration. Former Gov. David Paterson, who went from the state Legislature to a high-level executive role — much like Mamdani hopes to — said those decisions can make or break an administration. 'The whole issue is about staff selection,' said Paterson, who's backing Cuomo. 'You may not be the brightest bulb in the chandelier but the other bulbs can work along with you.' Even Mamdani's supporters have emphasized he needs to fill his administration with experienced staff — Rep. Alexandria Ocasio-Cortez said she has 'made her expectations of the assemblymember quite clear' in that area. Nothing has tripped up past mayors in New York City more than tensions with the city's vast and complicated bureaucracy — from a sanitation strike during John Lindsay's tenure, to Bill de Blasio's early missteps with snowstorms. It will likely be difficult for somebody like Mamdani to walk into office with the trust of city employees, especially if they lack high-level staff already familiar with the intricacies of the municipal government. 'He'd have to spend a decade building relationships in the city,' said Brandon del Pozo, a Brown University professor and former NYPD deputy inspector. 'You have to have a legislative track record. You'd have to have meetings with the police and the labor unions. You have to do a lot of behind-the-scenes work.' A failure to lay those foundational building blocks means city employees like police officers may be skeptical of Mamdani from the get-go. 'Even though I don't think de Blasio had a great tenure — he still was able to convince people that he knew how New York City ran,' del Pozo said, pointing to the former mayor's time in institutions like the City Council. 'This is one of the most important cities in the world and the biggest and most complex city in the United States. So if you don't have the executive experience, you've got to have something else that really, really makes up for that.' Paterson noted how 'Cuomo described [electing Mamdani] as reckless and dangerous. It certainly would portend that would be the case.' But, he added, 'you just never know' when it comes to succeeding as an executive. 'The one thing he's been in charge of his campaign,' he said. 'That's working: He's in the game.' And nobody — not even the candidates themselves — actually know whether they're experienced enough to be an executive for the first time. 'When I did become governor, it felt that way: 'What am I doing here!?'' Paterson said. — Jeff Coltin contributed reporting

The Hill

2 hours ago

• The Hill

Red states are forcing public schools to go MAGA

In Oklahoma, new social studies standards sound like they were written by loyal followers of President Trump. The standards include teaching high school students about 'discrepancies' in the 2020 presidential election, including discredited theories related to the 'security risks of mail-in balloting, sudden batch dumps, an unforeseen record number of voters, and the unprecedented contradiction of 'bellwether county' trends.' Students will also be asked to 'identify the source of the COVID-19 pandemic from a Chinese lab,' begin learning about the teachings of Jesus in the second grade and the 'ways that individuals can be patriotic' in preschool. After being accepted by the Oklahoma legislature, the new standards have sparked litigation and bitter debate. Oklahoma is by no means alone in remaking public education in hyperpartisan and, in our view, dangerously misguided ways. In an era of extreme political polarization, nothing succeeds like excess. As the pendulum has swung to the right, red state officials — acting under the banner of 'parental rights' and anti-'woke' ideology — have outdone one another in adopting restrictive instructional mandates related to religion, gender, sexuality, race and U.S. history. In 2023, Texas became the first state to permit school districts to use chaplains to counsel students during the school day. This year, the Texas legislature passed a bill allowing school districts to set aside time daily for prayer and religious study. Louisiana and Arkansas passed laws requiring classrooms in every public school to display the Ten Commandments. (On Friday, the conservative Court of Appeals for the Fifth Circuit ruled that the Louisiana law was unconstitutional.) Kentucky has prohibited instruction on human sexuality and sexually transmitted diseases before fifth grade and barred instruction on gender identity or sexual orientation. Iowa banned instruction on sexuality or sexual orientation before sixth grade and prohibited school libraries from carrying books depicting sex acts. In a backlash to the social justice activism that followed George Floyd's murder in 2020, at least 18 states passed laws banning the teaching of 'critical race theory' and restricting how teachers talk about racism, sexual orientation, gender identity and other 'divisive concepts.' Other 'educational gag orders' prohibit teachers from discussing 'controversial issues of public policy or social affairs.' If such teaching is permitted, the rules require teachers to 'strive to explore such issues from diverse and contending perspectives.' Even though two-thirds of Americans oppose book bans, books 'are disappearing' from K-12 classrooms and libraries across the country in an 'unprecedented flood' driven by 'punitive state laws' and 'pressure campaigns.' Florida has led the way. In what may become a blueprint for federal policy, the state adopted a series of laws, regulations and executive orders that 'privilege some parents' ideological preferences above all others, tie the hands of educators, and limit students' access to information.' Florida has banned the teaching of 'any concept that promotes, advances, or compels individuals to believe discriminatory concepts'; prohibited spending state funds on diversity, equity and inclusion programs; barred classroom discussion of gender identity through third grade; pulled hundreds of books that describe 'sexual conduct' or are deemed age inappropriate from school shelves; and encouraged parents to object to instructional materials they deem immoral or harmful. According to a 2024 Washington Post survey, 38 states have adopted laws either restricting or expanding teaching on race, racism, gender or history. Although some, such as a 2021 Rhode Island law mandating instruction on 'African Heritage and History,' reflect progressives' priorities, fully two-thirds of the laws are restrictive, and 90 percent of those were passed in states that voted for Trump in 2020. Conservatives insist that restrictive laws are necessary to combat 'woke' indoctrination and protect the rights of parents to educate their children in accordance with their values. Liberals argue that 'inclusive curricula' are required to enable all students to thrive. In addition to striking down Louisiana's Ten Commandment's statute, federal judges are considering challenges to many of the other red state instructional mandates. In the past, school districts have usually had wide latitude in instruction, an approach that is more responsive to the educational priorities of local communities than statewide mandates. After all, even the reddest and bluest states have plenty of residents (in places like Austin, Texas and upstate New York) who dissent, often vigorously, from the majority's agenda. The current burst of state regulation is unprecedented, and it is having a profound impact on the education of America's kids. What students are told about the subjects that most divide the country increasingly depends on whether they attend school in a blue state or a red one — almost certainly exacerbating polarization. All this has a dramatic chilling effect on teachers. According to a 2023 survey, 65 percent of teachers have restricted their instruction on 'political and social issues,' twice the number subject to restrictive state laws. For most of American history, one could claim that Newton's Third Law of Motion — for every action, there is an equal and opposite reaction — has applied to politics as well. So Americans might expect that ideological extremes in state educational policy will eventually be reversed. But if U.S. institutions do not preserve the norms, practices and principles of democracy, we may discover — when it's too late — that Newton's Third Law no longer applies. Glenn C. Altschuler is the Thomas and Dorothy Litwin Emeritus Professor of American Studies at Cornell University. David Wippman is emeritus president of Hamilton College.

Politico

3 hours ago

• Politico

Why the New York Mayor's Race Matters

NEW YORK — How on earth are voters in America's largest city choosing between a 33-year-old socialist and a sex pest for mayor? OK, that's a bit unfair: Assemblymember Zohran Mamdani would be 34 by the time he'd be sworn in to lead New York City. But seriously, these are the choices Democrats here have before them when they go to the polls Tuesday in the most revealing primary election since the party's debacle last year. There's Mamdani, a proud member of the Democratic Socialists of America by way of a noted workers' paradise, Bowdoin, who's calling for city-owned grocery stores and offending the United States Holocaust Memorial Museum by trying to rationalize calls to 'globalize the intifada.' Then there's former Gov. Andrew Cuomo, who was forced out of office less than four years ago after multiple women accused him of sexual harassment, now says he regrets resigning and has expressed little contrition about his personal conduct or his deadly mishandling of Covid-19. Cuomo is despised by much of the city, including some of his biggest benefactors, and is the favorite to win. Oh, and if either Mamdani or Cuomo falls short in New York's ranked-choice Democratic primary, each already has secured a separate ballot line in the general election; if they win, they'll get to use it in addition to the Democratic party line, and if they lose, they'll still get the chance to run as independents. Neither ruled out remaining in the race when I asked them if they'd run on a third-party line this fall. Mayor Eric Adams, who avoided corruption charges after cozying up to the Trump administration in an apparent arrangement that would have some Philly ward bosses blush, will also be on the ballot on his own line. The Republican standard bearer is Guardian Angels leader Curtis Sliwa, who was wearing a red hat (beret, to be exact) before it was cool and is ageless in that Dick Clark sort of way. It doesn't quite portend a replay of John Lindsay jousting with Abe Beame and William F. Buckley Jr. in 1965. However, the outcome should not be minimized. Suburban moderate women with national security experience were handily nominated this month to lead the Democratic ticket in state races this year in Virginia and New Jersey, which may itself say something about the appetite of the party's primary voters. But in New York, there is a real internecine clash — and it carries profound implications. Can a young leftist appeal to the party's traditional base of older Black voters? Alexandria Ocasio-Cortez is watching. Has the backlash to so-called wokeness that sanitized Trump last year reached into Democratic ranks so voters will reluctantly vote for the S.O.B.-we-know? And would Cuomo take such support as a vote of confidence and quickly begin running for president himself in 2028? He repeatedly refused to rule out such a run when I asked him. This being New York, it's not exactly difficult to find voters exasperated with their choices or shy about articulating their frustrations. Including in front of the candidates themselves. Last Sunday afternoon, walking up a closed-to-traffic Columbus Avenue on the Upper West Side, I came across city comptroller Brad Lander, who's polling in third place in the mayor's race. Lander — an affable, middle-aged official fittingly called 'Dad Lander' by his 20-something daughter — was passing out his brochures to shoppers strolling through the streetside market. It was one of those great moments of municipal politics serendipity — running into a candidate in the wild — and I used the opportunity to ask Lander why New Yorkers were left with two options so many found wanting. 'What I'm doing is presenting an option which is neither of those,' Lander began before a voice beside us interjected. 'I wish you or Scott Stringer had actually run as a moderate Democrat instead of trying to be all things to all people,' said the voice, carrying an unmistakable New York accent and citing another lagging candidate. 'Because the last thing this country needs is the left wing of the party dragging us down again and electing people like Trump.' The voter's name was Robert, he wouldn't offer his last name, and he wasn't finished. 'If you'd actually run as a moderate, you'd be the top of my ticket,' he told Lander, explaining: 'I'd rather have an asshole than a progressive.' In what may have been one of the most dutiful and unnecessary follow-ups in my career, I confirmed that, yes, Robert did have Cuomo in mind when he cited 'an asshole.' Lander was patient, arguing that he doesn't think it's wishy-washy 'to want government to run better and to be ambitious about what it can deliver.' Robert became friendlier and presented a peace offering by way of vowing to still rank Lander. Then I asked Lander directly, well, are you a progressive or a moderate? 'See, he won't answer the question!' Robert butted in before Lander could even respond. The candidate called himself 'a pragmatic progressive,' which prompted Robert to walk away. The Upper West Sider said he was a committed Democrat and retired lawyer who also worked in IT and finance, but he was more interested in venting his frustrations than discussing himself. In short: He's 'really pissed off' at MAGA and progressives, the latter, he said, for paving Trump's return. Which gets to the heart of the frustration so many New Yorkers have, not just over this race but from the long shadow of 2024. Moderates believe the party's drift to the left on culture and identity doomed them last year, and progressives can't believe Democrats haven't learned from ceding populism to the right. Yet just as the party sleepwalked into Armageddon by not speaking up about Joe Biden sooner, New York Democrats find themselves with a stark choice today as much as through omission as commission. Most major institutions have either remained silent or enabled Cuomo's comeback. That starts with elected officials who disdain him, most significantly Gov. Kathy Hochul and Senators Chuck Schumer and Kirsten Gillibrand. The silence of Schumer, his party's Senate leader and a New York senator for more than a quarter-century, is particularly deafening. Imagine Harry Reid or Nancy Pelosi letting an old home-state rival waltz back to office. Organized labor, the closest thing that exists to New York's old Democratic machines, has also for the most part stayed out of the race or backed Cuomo. And then there's The New York Times editorial page, which has a proven record of influencing local elections. The dominant local daily initially declined to offer an endorsement. Instead, they empaneled a group of local citizens to offer their preferences — Lander was the most popular — and eventually ran an unsigned editorial denouncing Mamdani and urging New Yorkers not to rank him. To be fair, it has been difficult for any candidate to get much attention when so much of traditional and social media is drenched in national coverage and namely the return of another rampaging son of Queens. Perhaps the most important non-event took place before the campaign even got fully underway. That was when Trump won last year and Attorney General Letitia James decided not to run for mayor. James may never have ultimately entered the race, but multiple New York Democrats told me there was a backstage campaign to nudge her into the race. A Black woman from Brooklyn who ran the inquiry into Cuomo's sexual harassment, James would've been the obvious Stop Andrew candidate. 'If Tish James had run, it would have been no race — she would have won hands down,' the Rev. Al Sharpton told me. 'And I think that is why we ended up where we are.' Sharpton, speaking in the back of his National Action Network's Harlem headquarters just minutes after hosting Cuomo there, said: 'I would have wanted to see Tish James run.' With James out and Adams cutting his deal with Trump, Cuomo was emboldened. Some Democrats, including Hochul and most crucially James, cast about for an alternative and landed on City Council Speaker Adrienne Adams, also a Black woman. However, Adams got in late, had little name ID and wasn't able to raise much money. And by then, many New York Democrats knew, and feared, Cuomo well enough to jump on board with him or at least stay out of his way. 'The only people with 'rizz' are the anti-establishment socialists who can't win citywide,' complained Lis Smith, a Democratic strategist and still-deciding New York voter. It may be the largest city in the country, but the talent is either average, blocked by aging incumbents or simply happy to wait for a future gubernatorial or Senate run and avoid a job that not only may be the country's second-hardest but also ends rather than launches careers. Look no further than the last three former mayors — Rudy Giuliani, Michael Bloomberg and Bill de Blasio — and the current incumbent. The former mayors all ran for president and found about as much success as the Jets have in reaching the playoffs. And Adams called himself 'the future' and 'the face' of the Democratic Party upon winning in 2021, only to face federal charges three years later. The city's current mayor and the leading hopefuls to replace him converged earlier this month at the funeral for longtime Rep. Charlie Rangel, a homegoing that amounted to a state funeral in New York. The service was held in St. Patrick's, the city's grandest cathedral. Cardinal Timothy Dolan, New York's Archbishop, presided. Dignitaries filled the pews and took to the pulpit to remember the long-serving House member and 'Lion of Lenox Avenue,' who 'thought the 'H' in Heaven stood for Harlem,' as one of his eulogists said. It was a grand mix of the Black church and the Catholic church, and it was exquisitely timed in the political calendar in a way I think Rangel would have loved. 'What a scene!' he may have said in that gravelly, 'New Yawk' voice, eyes twinkling and bow tie knotted smartly. The mayoral candidates played to type. Adams arrived at the front of the church, with most people already seated, at 9:54 for a 9:45 service. He's only the second Black mayor in the city's history, but he didn't speak and was scarcely mentioned, fitting for someone who's become a non-person in the minds of political New York. Mamdani zipped around the pews before the service, offering a hand to people he recognized, being greeted by some he didn't and generally playing the role of both outsider and young man in a hurry. He sat behind a massive marble pillar that had a wheelchair stuffed between it and the pew, 11 rows back from the front of the sanctuary. Cuomo sat in the fourth row and acted as though he were still in high office. He chatted with Nancy Pelosi, an old family friend, before the service and visited with other current and former officials, but notably avoided his former nemesis, de Blasio, who was inches away. When Mamdani finally mustered the courage to walk to the front rows and greet the VIPs before the service, none stood except for de Blasio. It was great theater, an allegory for the campaign, but the politicking in such an august setting was also something else: a reminder that there's always been a thin line separating the hacks and the statesmen of New York. The Roosevelts didn't have clean hands when it came to Tammany Hall, and their highbrow heirs also did what it took to win. One of my favorite New York artifacts is the letter an on-the-make professor named Daniel Patrick Moynihan wrote to Tammany boss Carmine De Sapio in 1971. Addressing his note to De Sapio in the 'United States Prison Facility' of Allendale, Pennsylvania, Moynihan recalls his 11th Avenue upbringing ('George Washington Plunkitt's old district'), laments that De Sapio was denied parole and offers regret that he 'never got to know you fellows very well' before assuring the boss that he has 'a friend on the Harvard faculty.' It's redolent of reformers and regulars, the 20th century New York of the 'Three Is' — when Democrats would strive to nominate a ticket that could reflect Ireland, Italy and Israel. But for Cuomo, the past is never dead — it's not even past. Speaking to closely huddled reporters avoiding a summer drizzle outside of Sharpton's Harlem headquarters, Cuomo reminded a young journalist that he had worked on his father's losing mayoral race, a formative campaign in the life of both Cuomos. He had been asked about the biggest surprise in this contest. 'Nothing,' he said with a shrug. 'My father ran for mayor before you were born, 1977,' Cuomo recalled, boasting: 'I know this city like the back of my hand.' Cuomo has long lived in the suburbs and, as governor, in Albany, and he's sensitive about criticisms over his residency. Which may be part of the reason he insists on driving himself around the city in a black Dodge Charger. Yet I didn't think about it again until the following day, which happened to be both Father's Day and what would have been Mario Cuomo's 93rd birthday. Andrew was at his second Black church of the day, and this one was in Jamaica, Queens, his father's hometown. Speaking during the service, and at another one in Brooklyn earlier in the morning, Cuomo said matter-of-factly that he still talks to his deceased father, and in fact his father talks back, and at times they argue. So when I caught up with Cuomo in Queens, I asked what his father would think of his candidacy today. 'Oh, he would think it's exactly right,' said the younger Cuomo. Then he was off to the races in ways that made clear he, too, was still consumed by 2024 and was interested in leading his party's recovery. 'Donald Trump, we lost to Donald Trump, 500,000 fewer Democrats turned out' in New York, he said by way of explaining why his dad would approve of his bid. The party, Cuomo said, had lost too much of its working-class base. ''What are you going to do for me?' It has to be real, it has to be tangible,' he said, articulating what those voters expect and arguing he fits the bill because of his record of results. A record, he argued, which includes his performance on Covid-19. Cuomo said the idea that his effort on the pandemic is a blemish is '100 percent wrong' and called the coverage of deaths in nursing homes 'all created for New York Post readers.' He was full of swagger, even insisting on going off the record a couple of times as though he was still in Albany telephoning the tabloids to steer their coverage. The previous night, at a rally in Manhattan, Ocasio-Cortez had said Cuomo was only running for mayor to run for president in 2028. What say you, I asked. 'I'm doing this for this,' he said of the mayor's race. He then talked about the importance of focusing on the here and now, but in the process unfurled his resume, recalling his service as HUD secretary and even claiming, without mentioning the election, that he had been 'on the short list for vice-president.' Sounding like a Queens Sun Tzu, Cuomo said: 'If you are watching the step ahead, you'll trip on this step, I believe that.' It was all a non-answer that pointed at his obvious ambition, quest for redemption and, perhaps, the chance to succeed at what his father never dared to try. 'You think you're going to get a different answer?' when I tried once more. 'You think this is my first rodeo?' I was reminded that it's very much not a bit later, after Cuomo was reunited with all three of his daughters that Father's Day Sunday. They stood behind him outside the church in Queens, and their dad's mood brightened with their presence as he addressed a handful of reporters and photographers. Were they happy he was back in the political fray, I asked? Each of them took their turn speaking with pride about their father, and Cuomo beamed. He also recognized something else: This was a moment that should be captured. He gestured to an aide, but the staffer didn't initially get the message. So the aide walked over to the former governor as the girls spoke. The staffer leaned in and Cuomo whispered: 'Film it.' Forty-eight years later, he still thought like the operative he had been on his dad's mayoral campaign. I should talk a bit about the state of the city. This is one of those moments when perception is at odds with the statistics. As with so many American cities, New York has entered what I call the post-post-Covid moment. While it didn't suffer the spike in carjackings as other parts of the country did — the city's geographic and population density is a natural prophylactic — New York had its troubles during and immediately after the pandemic. There were abhorrent crimes on the subway and there are still nuisance matters, such as the toothpaste and shampoo being behind a locked window at the drugstore. Still, Adams is going to preside over a historic plunge in violent crime. The first five months of this year brought the lowest number of shootings and homicides in recorded New York City history. There's a noticeably increased police presence, particularly on the subways, where Hochul has state authority and intervened. Coming out of the Washington Square station one afternoon this month, I counted six uniformed city cops underground. Much of Manhattan feels like a summer playground, downtown for those under 40 (or under 40 at heart) and the Upper East and West sides for those middle-aged (or still so at heart). 'As for people who are like, 'the city is crumbling,' try getting into a restaurant,' de Blasio told me over a pesto bagel near his Brooklyn home. And yet the most recent Marist survey of the city's voters found that 77 percent believed New York is headed in the wrong direction. Part of that can be attributed to embarrassment over Adams' saga in addition to lingering quality-of-life concerns, less fear of being shot and more unease with the mentally ill homeless person muttering to you. Recalling what police commissioner Bill Bratton once told him, de Blasio said: 'We have to separate crime and order, but the public doesn't.' However, the city's discontents also center on something else, which has been the heartbeat of Mamdani's campaign — affordability. For all his nifty videos and quick-on-the-draw wit, Mamdani wouldn't be giving Cuomo such a race had the assemblymember not harnessed such a galvanizing issue. His calls for a rent freeze and broader lament about the costs of living in New York are what vaulted him into contention and have made him a progressive phenomenon, particularly with young voters. 'Mamdani understood that he was never going to own the crime issue. He was for defund, but he could own affordability, and that's where he planted his flag early,' said Howard Wolfson, a longtime Bloomberg adviser and shrewd student of the city's politics. 'And as crime has come down, the issue of affordability has risen and it turns out it was the smart play.' Odd as it may sound, affordability was a luxury issue that became more resonant once people feared less for their personal safety. In the weeks leading up to the mayoral primary, one could be forgiven for thinking that Mamdani was the only candidate in the race, at least away from a TV set where Cuomo and his allies are carpet-bombing their young rival. To walk around the city is to see mostly Mamdani signs, pamphlets and canvassers. Strolling from Sharpton's 145th St. office 35 blocks down to Central Park North, I ran into three sets of Mamdani volunteers, all of them clearly under 50. Along the way, I popped into the Frederick E. Samuel Community Democratic Club, one of Harlem's old Black clubhouses, and the conversation quickly turned to Mamdani's appeal with young voters. Maurice Cummings, who's an aide to a Democratic assemblymember, recalled a recent gathering Mamdani had in Harlem. 'The thing that I find interesting is that he's crossing racial lines, the place was filled with Black, white, Indian, Puerto Rican,' said Cummings, who's 52. 'I would probably have been one of the oldest folks there.' I caught a glimpse of this dynamic on the corner of 155th and Broadway in Washington Heights, where Mamdani held a press conference on Father's Day afternoon. While he addressed the cameras, a small group of New Yorkers reflecting his base gathered to greet him and offer their support. There was the post-collegiate white guy, still wearing his backpack with a Notre Dame logo, a trans person thanking him for supporting trans rights, a fellow graduate of the Bronx High School of Science and a young Jewish voter lamenting the line of questioning Mamdani, who's Muslim, had received on Jewish-related issues. What there wasn't was any older Black people (except for the one who drove by, leaned out the window and told Mamdani to take his campaign 'to the projects'). It was a similar demographic the previous night, when Mamdani held a packed rally at an event space in one of Manhattan's old piers. One of the loudest cheers of the night was when a city councilor called to 'Free Palestine,' electrifying an audience more bougie than Bronx. The only Black people there over 40 I could find were working security. Walking with Mamdani down Broadway after his press conference the next day, I asked how he could avoid the fate of other progressive candidates in Democratic primaries who couldn't expand their coalition beyond young and non-Black voters. He said he was heartened by how far he had come — he had been in two Black churches himself that morning — but it was easy to pick up traces of wishing he had more time. 'One of the greatest challenges has been having to introduce myself, because when we started this race, one percent of New Yorkers knew who I was,' Mamdani told me, adding that he believes his affordability message 'resonates' but 'the question is whether we can share it with as many people as possible.' As with Cuomo, though for far less time, Mamdani worked in politics a bit before taking the plunge himself as a candidate. So for all his progressive proposals, there's also a hunger to win and an inevitable tension between principle and politics. Some of Mamdani's own advisers are eager for him to assure more moderate New Yorkers that he won't revert to his defund-the-police calls from the Black Lives Matter era. The easiest way to do that would be to signal he'd retain Jessica Tisch, the popular police commissioner, heiress and good news story of the otherwise cringey Adams administration. 'I would consider doing so,' he said, praising Tisch's efforts to root out corruption. Mamdani wouldn't go any further, though, saying 'these conversations are ones that I will engage in after the primary.' Of course, that may be too late. He had said at his rally the night before that 'the days of moral victories are over,' but Mamdani is self-aware enough to know how far he's come in his first citywide race — and that this won't be his last campaign. 'As a Muslim democratic socialist, I am no stranger to bad PR,' he joked. And after I asked him about the three rings he wears and wondered where he was hiding his Bowdoin class ring, he shot back: 'That's for the re-elect.'