Turning

WASHINGTON — Holiday gatherings and major life events have come with an empty seat. Certain dates on the calendar meant time at a cemetery, standing before granite stones.

They are a relatively small group of people, scattered across different states, but they share a common bond that stretches decades: Each had a family member die violently in the struggle for voting and civil rights, victims on a long and difficult path marked by blood that ended when the country seemed to mature into the nation of its creed.

But 61 years later, and as the country approaches its 250th anniversary this weekend, those sacrifices are in question. In a series of decisions over the last dozen years, including one in April, the Supreme Court has essentially dismantled the law that their family members died to see enacted, the Voting Rights Act of 1965.

“My mother’s blood is on that bill. We were always proud of that, and now it’s gone,” said Anthony Liuzzo, whose mother, Viola Liuzzo, died on an Alabama highway between Selma and Montgomery while driving marchers in 1965.

Critics of the law contend that times have changed, an argument Chief Justice John G. Roberts Jr. made in a 2013 decision that was the first major step in rolling back the law.

Survivors of lost loved ones disagree, pointing to the speed with which Republican-led state legislatures eliminated majority-Black congressional districts after the court’s April ruling, which severely weakened a section of the law that had protected voting rights for minority communities. They feel anger and sadness that a milestone political victory decades ago has been reversed, but they are committed to keep fighting.

A church bombing and a chunk of concrete

Lisa McNair was born Sept. 19, 1964. Her older sister, Denise, died in the Sept 15, 1963, bombing of the 16th Street Baptist Church in Birmingham, Ala. The church had been a central organizing point for civil rights protest.

The explosion killed Denise McNair, 11, and 14-year-olds Addie Mae Collins, Carole Robertson and Cynthia Morris Wesley. Nearly two dozen others were injured. Three Ku Klux Klansmen were convicted years later.

One of Lisa McNair’s early memories of her sister was of the box that their grandmother kept from the funeral home. It included Denise McNair’s shoes, a purse and a rock-sized piece of concrete that had been embedded in her skull.

The crime brought the civil rights struggle onto the national stage and outraged President Kennedy.

The times were tumultuous, McNair said, but it seemed the nation was heading in the right direction. Most of her life, “I’ve seen advances” on television, in commercials, with interracial marriages, civil rights and voting rights, “a plethora of rights that we got over the greater part of my lifetime.” But that has changed, she said.

McNair, 61, said she is “physically sick” about the Supreme Court decision and subsequent actions by lower courts and legislatures.

“I am constantly working to pray my way through it, so I can get up and go to work in the morning and do what I need to do. But I just want to ask every white person I see, ‘What more do you want?;” she said. “‘Why do you hate us so?’”

They left for Freedom Summer and never came home

Michael Schwerner, known as Mickey, came from a family in which human rights activism and challenging social norms were expected. He was in Mississippi in 1964 as part of Freedom Summer when he, Andrew Goodman and James Chaney vanished one day in June while investigating a bombing at a Black church.

Their bodies were found weeks later, buried in an earthen dam in a rural area of Neshoba County. Schwerner, 24, and Goodman, 20, were white; Chaney, 21, was Black.

Stephen Schwerner, who died earlier this year and was a social activist in his own right, told the Associated Press in a 2023 interview that as soon as the family heard his younger brother and the other men were missing, they knew they were dead.

“Our family was very out front in the media that the only reason there was international attention was two of the young men were white,” said Stephen’s daughter, Cassie Schwerner. “Had all three of those young men been Black, they would have ended up absent from our history and our narrative.”

The executive director of Morningside Center for Teaching Social Responsibility, Cassie Schwerner, said her family has followed voting rights through their ups and downs. That includes the 2013 Supreme Court decision that allowed states and counties with a history of discriminatory voting rules to make changes without prior approval from the Department of Justice.

The court’s April decision, she said, brought rage “and a good deal of sadness — not for me and my family, but for this country.” There is, she said, work to be done on multiple fronts.

Rights paid for in blood turned out to be fragile

Tamara Orange said among her many thoughts when she heard of the Supreme Court decision in this year’s Voting Rights Act case, there was relief — “relief that my dad is not here to see that; that Jimmie Lee Jackson is not here to see it; that Viola Liuzzo is not here to see it,” she said. “I’m relieved for them because to me, it’s as though the sacrifices that were made were done in vain.”

Her father, James Orange, was working with the Southern Christian Leadership Conference to organize voting rights protests in Marion and Perry County, Ala., in 1965. When juveniles joined the effort, he was arrested for contributing to the delinquency of minors. Concern arose that Orange was going to be taken out of the jail and lynched.

A protest to intervene ended with Jackson, a 26-year-old Black church deacon, being shot in the stomach by a state trooper while Jackson tried to shield his mother and grandfather.

His death was the catalyst for what became the Selma-to-Montgomery march and “Bloody Sunday.”

Orange stayed in the movement all his life and died in 2008, Tamara Orange said. But even after the Voting Rights Act passed, “he would say, ‘Be careful or we’re going to lose it.’”

‘We got bad news for you’

Anthony Liuzzo had just turned 10 when his mother, 39, left their middle-class neighborhood in Michigan and headed for Selma. She had cried as she watched scenes from “Bloody Sunday” on television.

Viola Liuzzo participated in a portion of the second march and then helped drive other civil rights protesters around the Black Belt region of the state. On March 25, 1965, she was driving one protester between Selma and Montgomery when a vehicle pulled alongside and fired into the car.

The phone call came around midnight. Anthony Liuzzo remembers the caller asking his dad, “Is your wife Viola? We got bad news for you. She’s been shot.” When his father asked whether she was all right, the caller said, “No, she’s dead,” and then hung up.

An informant for the FBI quickly identified members of the Ku Klux Klan as her killers. The three men charged would escape conviction on state charges but be convicted in federal court.

Anthony Liuzzo and his siblings lived with the lost birthdays and other missed milestones. His comfort was that the voting rights she had died for had become a reality. But the April ruling by the Supreme Court and the subsequent rush by Republican-led legislatures in several Southern states to eliminate congressional districts represented by Black lawmakers left him angry and distraught.

Even so, he said he is still proud his mother had the courage to go to Selma “when others sat in their pretty little houses.”

One morning, the Klan returned

The inscription at the bottom of Vernon Dahmer Sr.’s tombstone reads simply: “If you don’t vote, you don’t count.”

It is a message that embodies his life’s work and the story behind his death.

Even after President Johnson signed the Voting Rights Act, not every state was eager to implement the new law. In Mississippi, it came with a poll tax. The amount was $2, but in a world where a farmworker’s wages might only be $5 a day, that was substantial, said Dahmer’s son, Dennis Dahmer Sr.

The elder Dahmer, 57 at the time of his death, was a successful businessman who owned a store, sawmill and farm near Hattiesburg. He also was a civil rights leader and NAACP president in Ford County. He offered to pay the $2 for Black residents who wanted to register to vote.

He had already been under scrutiny by the local Ku Klux Klan. There was harassment and there were threatening phone calls. The windows were shot out of his store, but no one challenged him directly because his sons were always present and armed.

That seemed to tail off after Johnson signed the law.

“The Klan quit calling,” Dennis Dahmer said. “They quit shooting out the windows, so my family thought that all of this was behind us.”

That changed in the early hours of Jan. 10, 1966, when two carloads of Klansmen showed up. They firebombed the house and adjacent grocery store and began shooting at the house. The elder Dahmer shot back, using his ample arsenal to fight off the attack.

His wife and the three children who were home survived, but he suffered severe injuries from inhaling the smoke and fumes from the flames. He died later that day.

Dennis Dahmer was 12 as he stood next to his dad’s hospital bed. He wondered why some people wanted his father dead just for trying to help Black people vote.

A former Imperial Wizard of the Ku Klux Klan, Sam Bowers, was convicted in 1998 for the attack and sentenced to life in prison.

Like the families of other survivors, Dennis Dahmer’s family has witnessed the methodical dismantling of the Voting Rights Act.

“Finally, they basically turned it into a relic,” he said.

His plan now is activism, to speak out and promote the need for a massive voter turnout. He also wants to remind people of the price that certain families paid for everyone to have the right to vote and be represented by someone of their choosing.

“We’re living in a time when America has a lot of the same characteristics of the 1960s that I grew up in,” he said. “People say, ‘Are we going back?’ Hell, we’re already there.”

Fields writes for the Associated Press.

One of Russia’s biggest advantages in the war against Ukraine is its ability to launch tactical airstrikes from bases largely out of reach of kinetic responses. While we have frequently reported about Ukrainian attacks on these bases, they aren’t sustained enough to stop Russia from generating devastating sorties.

Now Ukraine and NATO are looking to the private sector for ways of changing that equation through what is being called the Airfield Denial Challenge. It offers a 250,000 Euro award to companies or individuals who come up with workable ideas to prevent Russia from being able to use its air bases.

“The Armed Forces of Ukraine (AFU) operational experience has firmly established that the ability of the adversary to project air power from secure rear-area airfields remains one of the most consequential asymmetries in the current conflict,” according to NATO’s Headquarters Supreme Allied Commander Transformation (SACT). “Enemy tactical aviation, operating from bases beyond the reach of conventional Ukrainian strike assets, continues to conduct strikes using guided aerial bombs, cruise missiles, and stand-off munitions against friendly forces, critical infrastructure, and civilian population centers.”

The goal of this program is lofty.

“Each sortie originates from an airfield. Every airfield is a node of vulnerability: if it can be persistently denied, the adversary’s air campaign is fundamentally disrupted at source,” SACT suggested.

You can see video from one of the Ukrainian attacks on Russian tactical aviation bases below.

Ukraine’s ongoing efforts to halt these attacks are insufficient, SACT posited.

“Current workarounds: manned strike aviation, ground-based long-range fires (MLRS, ballistic missiles), and conventional single-unit loitering munitions have demonstrated limited effectiveness against defended airfield targets,” SACT argued. “They lack the mass-effect, persistence, and EW (Electronic Warfare)-resilience required to simultaneously suppress airfield infrastructure across multiple aim points in a contested environment.”

The “battlefield logic is clear,” the NATO subcommand added. “Point-defense and reactive interception of individual weapons must be complemented by persistent denial at the source.”

“We must find technologies that will help to permanently limit the enemy’s use of aviation infrastructure: aircraft, runways, fuel and ammunition storage facilities, and ground support infrastructure,” the Ukrainian Defense Ministry (MoD) explained. “Ukrainian miltech companies, startups, and engineering teams are invited to participate.”

SACT said the challenge is technically agnostic and that it is looking for ideas that include, but not are not limited to, the following:

• Uncrewed aerial systems of any configuration or range class

• Autonomous or semi-autonomous munitions and loitering systems

• Swarming and mass-effect approaches

• Alternative delivery mechanisms beyond conventional aerial platforms

• Hybrid solutions combining multiple technologies

Regardless of what type of solution is presented, it “must be capable of operating in GPS-denied and EW-contested environments, across all weather conditions and seasons, and must demonstrate a credible path to rapid fielding.”

In addition, SACT is looking for systems that can conduct sustained strikes deep into contested airspace, operate without “continuous human control,” be fully autonomous and deliver “sufficient mass and precision to suppress multiple aim points across an airfield simultaneously.”

SACT also wants systems that require minimal training, and have AI-assisted target acquisition that “reduces reliance on expert judgment.”

The solicitation comes with the understanding that whatever solutions are presented won’t be proven, but should be at least in the mid-to-upper tier of the military technology readiness level (TRL) scale. It includes systems ranging from those having “high fidelity” laboratory integration of components to those with prototypes “near, or at, planned operational systems.”

Meanwhile, any solution that will take more than a year to be fielded won’t be considered.

The deadline for submissions is July 20. Ten finalists will be selected on August 11 and will be invited to a “pitch day” on Sept. 3, tentatively in Poland, to showcase their designs.

Whether this ambitious program will actually lead to the fielding of any systems that can persistently deny Russia the ability to launch aircraft is very much in question.

As we have frequently reported, Ukraine has one of the world’s most innovative defense technology infrastructures that has created drones, missiles and other weapons designed, tested and fielded under intense wartime conditions. However, it has still been unable to achieve the goals being sought by this challenge. 

One of the big issues Kyiv faces is the limited amount of funds to pursue some of these advances and what the Atlantic Council has described as “Ukraine’s inability to mass produce sophisticated weapons or sustain stable military supply chains.” 

Getting an idea into the hands of NATO, which has developed a half-billion dollar fund to develop weapons for Ukraine, could ultimately help turn an idea into a workable weapon to keep Russian tactical aviation at bay. Even if that happens, though, the time it would take to develop these weapons at a scale large enough to make a real difference would be a formidable endeavor.

Contact the author: howard@twz.com

ATHENS, Georgia — Fresh from a marathon trip to Pakistan that failed to reach a deal for ending the war with Iran, Vice President JD Vance jetted to this Georgia college town for a campus tour organized by the conservative powerhouse Turning Point USA.

But instead of showcasing the youthful energy that the organization harnessed to return President Trump to the White House less than two years ago, there was a mostly empty arena, awkward questions and unusually sharp criticism.

The event affirmed Trump’s difficulty selling the war and how much he’s complicated his own political fortunes by assailing Pope Leo XIV and posting a social media meme that depicted himself as Jesus.

“I did vote for Trump. I am not a Trump supporter anymore,” said Joseph Bercher, a Catholic who said he was glad that Leo has expressed opposition to the war with Iran.

Bercher said the Jesus meme, which the president took down Monday after a rare conservative backlash, was a “red flag” indicating Trump’s true character.

“He sees himself as like a demagogue or someone to be worshipped,” Bercher said.

C.J. Santini, a recent graduate of Liberty University, an evangelical school in Virginia, said he didn’t have an opinion on whether Iran was truly close to manufacturing a nuclear weapon and thus needed to be attacked. But he laughed and shook his head when asked about Trump attacking Leo.

“It’s just stupid. Stupid,” he said, calling it a “distraction” from Trump’s agenda in Iran and at home.

Mostly empty arena contrasts with 2024 rallies

Many of the college-age attendees donned Turning Point attire, Trump hats and red-white-and-blue paraphernalia for the event. Yet they were outnumbered more than 2-to-1 by empty seats in what is not even the largest arena on this sprawling campus that sits about a 90-minute drive from downtown Atlanta.

A Marine veteran who served in Iraq, Vance acknowledged that not all young conservatives are enamored with another U.S. war in the Middle East.

“I’m not saying you have to agree with me on every issue,” Vance told the young crowd. “What I’m saying,” he added, “is don’t get disengaged.”

The vice president took questions from Turning Point executive Andrew Kolvet instead of Erika Kirk, who began leading the organization after the assassination of her husband Charlie Kirk. Kolvet said Erika Kirk canceled her plans to be on stage because of unspecified threats she had received.

Vance, whose presence ensured significant Secret Service and other law enforcement protection around the venue, said he’d been worried that the event would be canceled altogether.

Kolvet asked Vance directly about the war and Trump’s back-and-forth with Leo. Audience questions were more aggressive. Vance jousted with at least one heckler over the war in Gaza, and he was pressed by another person over the administration’s handling of the Jeffrey Epstein case files.

In the audience, even some of Vance’s sympathetic listeners offered caveats and critiques.

“The pope needs to stay out of politics,” said Jessie Williams, a Methodist. But he noted his mother is Catholic, and he said he understands why Catholics recoil at Trump calling the pope “weak” and suggesting that the first U.S.-born pontiff was chosen only as a counter to Trump.

Williams called Trump’s meme distasteful.

“I don’t like it, but it’s — what can we do?” Williams said. “He’s a grown man, he’s gonna do what he wants.”

Blake McCluggage, a Baptist, said he did not approve of the meme or Trump’s profane Easter Sunday message that threatened widespread destruction of Iran’s civilian infrastructure.

The threat, plus Trump’s follow up message that a “whole civilization” would die, prompted escalating criticism from Leo, with the pope calling the president’s comments “truly unacceptable.”

However, McCluggage said, “you can still be a Republican” despite disagreeing with Trump.

A day before coming to Georgia, Vance tried to laugh off the meme as a joke that “a lot of people weren’t understanding.” The vice president also seemed to echo Trump’s assertion that Leo should concentrate less on global affairs.

“It would be best for the Vatican to stick to matters of morality, to stick to matters of what’s going on in the Catholic church and let the president of the United States stick to dictating American public policy,” Vance said in a Fox News interview.

On stage in Athens, he shifted his arguments, saying he welcomes Leo’s comments even if he disagrees with them.

“At the very least, it invites conversation,” said Vance, who converted to Catholicism as an adult.

Still, Vance questioned Leo anew, pushing back specifically at the pope’s Palm Sunday assertion that God does not hear the prayers of those who make war. Leo was quoting scripture from the Old Testament book of Isaiah. Vance asked whether God was on the side of Allied forces in World War II as they liberated Jewish survivors of Nazi extermination camps.

“I certainly think the answer is yes,” Vance said. When Leo mixes global affairs and complex theology, Vance said, “it’s very important for the pope to be careful.”

Barrow and Megnien write for the Associated Press.