T

his fall, Michigan voters 
will have a say on three 
crucial ballot initiatives 
that could change the state’s 
political landscape in a drastic way. 
Proposal 1 would change term limit 
requirements for state legislators 
and establish financial disclosure 
requirements. Proposal 2 would 
greatly expand voting rights and 
work to safeguard democracy. 
And the highly contested Proposal 
3 would enshrine reproductive 
freedom in the state constitution. 
All 
three 
proposals 
would 
undoubtedly be progressive wins, 
and I encourage everyone to vote 
for these common-sense measures. 
When it comes to getting 
political goals accomplished, ballot 
initiatives often reign supreme, 
especially for progressive issues. 
What else could have prevented 
the deep red Kansas legislature 
from 
passing 
restrictions 
on 
reproductive 
freedom? 
How 
else would states like Nebraska, 
South Dakota and Arkansas have 
achieved minimum wage hikes 
that put the federal minimum 
wage to shame? Progressive ballot 
initiatives, in states ranging from 
deep blue to deep red, often have 
astounding 
levels 
of 
success, 
producing laws that otherwise 
would not have had a chance 
of passing through traditional 
legislation. 
Ballot initiatives are an effective 
tool for progressives to pass 
popular legislation, and Michigan’s 
three proposals this year exemplify 
why that’s the case. Though both 
parties use ballot initiatives to pass 
policies they support, they have 
been disproportionately successful 
for progressives. 
One of the main reasons that 
ballot initiatives are such a positive 
is that they are simply the most 
representative and equitable way 
for making new policy into law. It 
is well known that Congress and 
state legislatures often act way 
outside of public opinion, especially 

on key issues for progressives. 
Wide majorities of voters support 
the progressive stance on issues 
including reproductive freedom, 
marijuana 
legalization, 
voting 
rights and much more. Yet if you 
analyze the support for these 
measures in legislative bodies, and 
compare them to the constituents 
they represent, they are way out of 
sync. Ballot initiatives rectify this 
issue. 
Initiatives are also equitable in 
that they work around egregious 
gerrymandering, 
which 
itself 
greatly distorts the line between 
public opinion and the public’s 
representatives. Take Wisconsin, 
a 
purple 
state. 
Republicans, 
through 
relentless 
partisan 
gerrymandering, have managed 
to find themselves on the verge 
of 
a 
legislative 
supermajority 
despite this fact. The fact that a 
battleground state, which voted 
for Biden in the last election, could 
have a veto-proof Republican 
majority in its state legislature 
is an affront to democracy and 
an insult to voters. Once again, 
ballot initiatives would bypass this 
fact, as the partisan advantages 
of gerrymandering disappear in 
state-wide elections, such as the 
election for governor.
It is true that we live in a 
representative democracy, one in 
which politicians must go against 
their constituents’ wishes for the 
interests of the country at times. 
Take, for example, Republican 
members 
of 
Congress 
who 
rebuffed calls from their deep red 
constituents to object to electors in 
the 2020 election. The problem, of 
course, is that our democracy is not 
actually all that representative. The 
country is dominated by minority 
rule through the filibuster, run 
by a dysfunctional Congress that 
has long had an approval rating so 
abysmal it’s almost hard to fathom 
and allows the aforementioned 
gerrymandering to define our 
electoral process. Ballot initiatives 
are the easiest way for voters to 
express their legislative priorities 
and see them enacted into law. 
Ballot initiatives are also good in 

that they inspire nuanced thought 
over specific issues and provide 
an avenue for voters to reject the 
party line on issues they disagree 
with without having to vote for 
the opposing party and take down 
their party as a whole. Ballot 
initiatives, though often supported 
by one party more than the other, 
are not run on a party-affiliated 
line. By taking away the cue of (D) 
or (R), voters are left to actually dig 
deeper into the proposal and see 
what it’s about. 
They empower voters to be 
“mavericks” of sorts. A voter 
in Arkansas who supports a 
living wage and the legalization 
of marijuana but is otherwise 
conservative does not have to 
sacrifice one set of beliefs for 
the other. The more proposals 
put to the combined 50 states 
there are, the more nuanced and 
representative 
policymaking 
becomes.
Though ballot initiatives can be 
an inspiring relief from traditional 
aspects of governance, the specific 
requirements varying by state 
can result in varying levels of that 
relief. When it comes to getting 
initiatives on the ballot and passed, 
some states are more restrictive 
than others. The main difference 
is between states with direct 
and indirect initiatives. In direct 
initiative states, proposals that 
qualify go directly to the ballot. In 
indirect initiative states, however, 
varying 
levels 
of 
action 
are 
required by the state legislature to 
allow them on the ballot, providing 
opportunities to thwart the will 
of the people. Some states can 
outright deny the measure, and 
others require additional signature 
requirements 
after 
legislative 
consideration. 
In 
24 
states, 
voters are left entirely out of the 
process, with no mechanism for 
citizen-initiated ballot measures. 
Michigan is a direct initiative 
state, paving a pathway for voters 
dissatisfied with the legislature to 
get policy passed, obstructionists 
in Lansing be damned. 

Opinion
Wednesday, November 9, 2022 — 9
The Michigan Daily — michigandaily.com

H

istory is arbitrary. Or 
so it seems to be in 
today’s world, where the 
narrative is spun by the victors and 
we corral history into neat little 
periods and eras. But beginnings 
and endings are all a construct, 
defined by the human desire to 
close one chapter before opening 
another. So, now we deal with the 
consequences of historical periods 
being defined by hegemonic rule. 
Take “postcolonial” for example: 
“post” implies that colonization in 
its entirety, including its aftermath, 
is well and over with, but really, 
it just depends on who you ask. 
Political, economic, cultural and 
social remains of imperialism and 
colonial rule exist in each nation 
touched by colonialism, yet the 
rather inadequate name of the era 
suggests otherwise.
These characterizations are just 
one of the ways that history itself is 
frequently altered or obscured to 
fit a narrative, and although many 
nations are guilty of this revision, 
the most relevant one to me is the 
one I live in: the United States. The 
tale of American exceptionalism 
is not a new one; from economic 
prosperity 
to 
human 
rights 
advocacy, the United States never 
fails to boast of its domestic and 
international endeavors, but these 
examples are largely based on 
hypocrisy and myth.
While 
the 
United 
States 
condemns 
colonization 
and 
references its own past as a 
British colony, it remains one of 
the most expansionist nations in 
modern history, swiftly moving 
from 13 colonies to 50 states and 
16 territories in its short history, 
displacing thousands of Indigenous 
tribes and creating bloodshed 
in the expansionist movement’s 
wake. While preaching human 
rights in its international policy, the 
United States refuses to sign most 
human rights treaties, has openly 
backed 
dictators 
throughout 
history and is not a party to the 
International Criminal Court. In 
fact, the U.S. does not recognize 
the jurisdiction of the ICC and 
will use military force to liberate 
any American citizens tried by the 

court. In spite of all this, a survey 
by Pew Research finds that 52% 
of Americans believe that the U.S. 
is “one of the greatest countries in 
the world, along with some others,” 
and 23% believe that the U.S. 
“stands above all other countries in 
the world.” 
So how are these myths kept 
alive? 
American 
education 
is 
somehow both the perpetuation 
of mythological ideals and the 
beginnings of revolution. This is 
only possible in a country as large 
as the United States, and one 
where each state, each district, has 
jurisdiction over its curriculum and 
teaching methods. I sat down with 
LSA senior Thea Bilich, an Ann 
Arbor native, and LSA sophomore 
You Na Lee, who was born in Korea 
but began her American education 
in eighth grade in a conservative 
suburb in Illinois. Both took U.S. 
history in middle and high school. 
Bilich reports that, while her 
school took a formulaic, uniform 
approach to history that rushed 
teachers through sensitive topics 
and focused on dates and people, 
“(her) school took a more delicate 
approach than perhaps others did. 
… Eighth grade focused largely on 
the colonization of this land and 
slavery whereas 11th grade focused 
more on civil rights movements. 
However, both were discussed 
largely in the past tense … because 
people think kids shouldn’t have 
to know about the reality of 
Thanksgiving or how racism and 
white supremacy still functions in 
today’s society.”
When 
asked 
about 
her 
experience 
with 
U.S. 
history 
education, Lee said, “We briefly 
discussed Native Americans but 
that history was nearly entirely 
glossed over and racism and white 
supremacy were never even a topic. 
We were more focused on the 
development of America and what 
each president did to advance the 
U.S. during their time in office.” 
Lee recounts a particular memory 
in 11th grade, when she had moved 
to a slightly more liberal suburb in 
Illinois. She stated that, “we were 
learning about Pearl Harbor and 
World War II and the teacher was 
definitely trying to educate about 
both sides of the war, but to wrap 
up the section we read an article 
about how the atomic bomb wasn’t 

as harmful as it was expected to be 
and even justified the placement of 
the bomb. This was clearly meant 
to tip the scales in favor of the U.S. 
and paint America in a good light.”
When I later asked each student 
whether they thought conservative 
and liberal states teach American 
history differently, both responded 
with a conclusive yes. Bilich recalls 
a discussion in her Museum 
Studies course at the University of 
Michigan where she first realized 
how differently history is taught 
across the country, stating that 
“teachers are given leeway on how 
to teach each required topic, but 
maybe you shouldn’t be having 
children act as Native Americans 
or slaves and slaveholders in 
school plays. There’s a general 
insensitivity surrounding these 
topics just to get students moving.” 
Many education systems across 
the country have an unfortunate 
tendency to require students to — 
without context — reenact some 
of history’s greatest atrocities for 
only marginally more immersive 
education. 
Lee 
compares 
her 
two 
experiences in the suburbs: “My 
white-dominated, 
Christian 
private 
school… 
teachers 
had 
a lot more freedom on what to 
teach because it was a really small 
private school so the material 
we’re learning depends entirely 
on the teacher, and when history 
teachers are teaching they should 
try to remain neutral but they 
were extremely biased. And once 
I moved to a more liberal public 
school near Chicago, the teaching 
became more about dates and 
memorizing.”
The 
dismissive 
and, 
quite 
frankly, 
incorrect 
version 
of 
American history Lee was taught 
displays the immense power of 
teachers and individual schools 
to entirely alter the American 
narrative. The erasure of America’s 
dark history breeds misplaced 
trust 
and 
patriotism 
while 
robbing students of the chance to 
right prior wrongs. While Bilich 
recounts 
a 
more 
transparent 
version of American history in her 
liberal schooling, she still points to 
several gaps in her education that 
were only filled in college.

REVA LALWANI
Opinion Columnist

Michigan illustrates how ballot 
measures can be a key tool for progress

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I

t seems that every election 
season, we hear more and 
more from politicians and 
pundits about how important it 
is for campaigns to talk about 
“kitchen table issues.” A political 
shorthand for the things average 
people care about day to day, 
the term “kitchen table issues” 
typically refers to economic issues 
like jobs, taxes and, right now, 
inflation.
Every year, millions of college 
students reconvene with their 
families 
at 
the 
Thanksgiving 
table to talk and argue about 
turkey, football and, yes, politics. 
In the name of familial harmony, 
controversial 
political 
issues 
are generally not a good topic 
for Thanksgiving dinner. Or so 
they say. But climate change is 
different: there’s a way to explain 
to even the most conservative 
relatives that addressing this issue 
will make their lives better, not 
in 50 years, but now. The climate 
conversation in America today 
exists in a kind of limbo; multiple 
polls show between 65% and 
70% of Americans are concerned 
about climate change, yet fewer 
than 50% think it will affect them 
personally.
In other words, for many 
Americans, climate change is 
something that happens to other 
people, in other places, sometimes 
now, maybe more in the future. 
Contrast this sentiment with the 
quintessential kitchen table issues, 
such as gas prices, which you see 
on big signs every day and in your 
bank statement every month, and 
you start to see the problem.
The reason kitchen table issues 
hold so much weight in political 
circles, especially around election 
season, is that they have dramatic 
impacts on people’s decisions at the 
ballot box. Additionally, the reason 
these conversations happen at the 
kitchen table is because people 
see the impacts and importance 
of them on a daily basis, unlike 
climate change for many. 
Consistently, the issue that 
Americans care most about is the 
economy (climate change doesn’t 
even crack the top 10), and you 
can pretty much track presidential 
approval ratings with gas prices 

for the last 50 years.
But that can change, quickly. 
In July of this year, the Supreme 
Court overturned 50 years of 
federally 
protected 
abortion 
access, and abortion suddenly 
became a kitchen-table issue. 
When Americans were asked about 
the most important issues facing 
the nation, abortion access ranked 
fourth, behind only inflation, the 
economy and the government, and 
ahead of immigration, racism and 
unity.
So 
why 
hasn’t 
climate 
change had its “kitchen table 
breakthrough?”
You could point to the millions 
of dollars spent by the oil industry 
trying to discredit climate science 
(and 
scientists), 
the 
decades 
of 
American 
presidents 
and 
politicians who refused to even 
acknowledge the issue or the 
fact that many people are more 
worried about feeding their kids 
tomorrow than feeding the world 
in 50 years. And you’d be right.
But none of us are going to solve 
these issues at the dinner table this 
Thanksgiving. What we can do is 
find a new way to talk about climate 
change, one that centers how the 
problems and solutions impact all 
of us and our day-to-day lives. And 
the best way I’ve found to do that 
is by talking about economics. Not 
abstract economics, not things like 
a commercial buildings energy 
efficient investment tax credit 
bill, a provision of the Inflation 
Reduction 
Act, 
but 
tangible, 
kitchen-table economics.
Climate activists for years have 
warned that unless we act now, 
we face global catastrophe in 30 
years. These tactics aren’t wrong 
in principle — climate change is 
terrifying, and we should all be 
deeply concerned for the fate of 
our planet and each other — but 
this approach alone has clearly 
fallen short.
What if the reason we’ve failed 
to motivate the average American 
is because we’re missing half the 
argument? Our brains aren’t built 
to contemplate, internalize and act 
on existential threats to human 
civilization.
Proselytizers and evangelicals 
have understood this for centuries. 
Sure, you can always motivate a 
small section of the population by 
preaching damnation and hellfire. 
But your narrative becomes far 

more 
powerful 
when 
people 
believe they can be saved, when 
you talk about a Promised Land.
We need to show people 
that climate change isn’t just 
something to be afraid of. It’s 
also an opportunity. Who doesn’t 
want a brand-new set of free (or 
deeply discounted) electric home 
appliances?
The federal government is 
offering discounts ranging from 
30% to 100% (based on area and 
household income) for electric 
stoves, water and space heaters, 
clothes 
dryers, 
insulation/
ventilation, breaker boxes and 
electrical wiring. The average 
American household stands to save 
$1,800 a year by upgrading. Who 
wouldn’t want a 30% discount on 
a home solar energy system that 
could keep the lights on in a storm 
and slash (or potentially eliminate) 
their electric bill?
After Hurricane Ian, a small 
Florida 
community 
grabbed 
headlines as the some of the only 
people in the area with power 
following the storm, due largely 
to their investment in solar energy 
and community storage.
If these home incentives aren’t 
enough, what about $7,500 off a 
new F-150 that can tow over 9,000 
pounds, power your house for a 
week and goes zero to 60 faster 
than a Camaro (oh, and takes gas 
prices off the kitchen table for 
good)?
And, for your uncle who 
complains every year about how 
“we used to build things here:”
Biden’s Inflation Reduction Act, 
along with being the single largest 
climate intervention in history, 
also stands to create more than a 
million domestic manufacturing 
and assembly jobs by 2030, 
building all those things we talked 
about above and more. Those are 
good union jobs, the kind that 
offer a middle-class life for people 
without college degrees — the kind 
of jobs that have mostly vanished 
in the U.S. since the 1980s — the 
kind 
that 
conservatives 
love 
to promote. In this moment, 
especially if you have relatives 
worried about gas prices, inflation 
or finding a good job, it may also 
be helpful to talk about what they 
stand to gain from progressive 
climate policies.
You might even have a great 
Thanksgiving dinner.

Op-Ed: Talk to your family about 
climate change this holiday season

MICHAEL REDMOND
Opinion Contributor

DEVAN HESANO
Opinion Columnist

History is written by the victors

Sara Fang/Opinion Cartoonist

 Read more at MichiganDaily.com

 Read more at MichiganDaily.com

