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Are young people turning away from the Democratic Party in 2024? Will turnout be as high as it was last time around? What about the gender gap? Today I’ll do my best to address some pressing questions about how young folks will behave in November. But first, here are three stories from The Atlantic:

The bone-marrow-transplant revolution Radio Atlantic: The crucial factor of the Stormy Daniels case Abolish DEI statements, Conor Friedersdorf argues.

The “Realignment” Mirage

What are the youths up to this election cycle? several readers asked me via email last week. Well, lately, they’ve been giving Democrats heart palpitations.

A handful of surveys from late last month suggested that Trump is performing better among young voters than he did in 2020—even, in some cases, better than Joe Biden. Some Democrats are worried about what Politico recently called a “massive electoral realignment.” For decades, Democratic candidates have secured younger voters by big margins. In the 2020 presidential election, for example, voters ages 18–29 broke for Biden by more than 20 points. So if young voters were to turn toward Trump, that would be an enormous deal.

But before Democrats freak out or Trump fans get too excited, let’s all take a nice, deep breath. Several other youth-voter polls from last month showed Biden on par with Trump, and even beating him.

“Following recent polls of young voters has been a bit like reading a choose-your-own adventure book,” Daniel Cox, the director of the nonpartisan Survey Center on American Life at the American Enterprise Institute, told me via email, when I asked him what he makes of the surveys that point to a realignment. “You can craft a completely different narrative,” he says, depending on which poll you see.

These surveys vary so much, in part, because polling young people can be tricky. Getting young people on the phone via the traditional cold-call method is a nightmare, because they don’t tend to answer (I get it: These days it seems like every call is a scam.) Lately, younger voters have been eschewing traditional party labels, and they’ve grown more cynical about the entire political system. These phenomena make it difficult to both identify younger voters by party and to get them to participate in a poll.

It’s unlikely that a total realignment is happening, Cox and other pollsters told me. Let’s not forget which voters we’re dealing with: Young adults today are less religious, more educated, and more likely to identify as LGBTQ than prior generations, Cox noted, which are all characteristics generally associated with left-of-center political views. “It’s hard to see this completely changing over the course of a single campaign.”

A brand-new poll from Harvard throws even more ice-cold water on the “great realignment” theory: Biden leads Trump by 19 points among likely voters under age 30, according to the poll, which was published today and is considered one of the most comprehensive surveys of young voters in the country. Biden is definitely underperforming among young people compared with this point in the 2020 election, when he led by 30 points. But today’s poll showed no hint of a Trump lead.

Instead, the bigger threat to Biden will be third-party-curious young people. In a recent survey of young voters from the nonpartisan polling organization Split Ticket, Biden led Trump by 10 points, and the young voters who did abandon Biden weren’t going to Trump—they were going to independent candidates like RFK Jr.

The real themes to watch in 2024, experts told me, are youth turnout and the growing gender divide.

Young people are less likely to vote than older Americans—that’s true. But the past three national elections have actually had really high young-voter turnout, relative to past cycles. In the 2020 general election, 50 percent of eligible voters under 30 cast a ballot, according to estimates from CIRCLE, a nonpartisan organization that studies youth civic engagement. Will more than 50 percent of eligible young voters show up to the polls again this November? Maybe: About 53 percent of young Americans say they will “definitely be voting,” according to the Harvard poll published today. That’s about the same as it was around this time in 2020, when 54 percent said they’d vote.

But some experts say that matching 2020 levels is a long shot. Biden and Trump are historically unpopular presidential candidates among all age groups. Given that, Lakshya Jain, who helped design the Split Ticket poll, doesn’t think young-voter turnout will be “nearly as high as it was in 2020.” That cycle was special, he says: “a black swan of events” during one of the most tumultuous times in America. The election followed four years of a Trump administration, and the start of a global pandemic. “I see this environment as much more like 2016,” Jain said, when turnout among young people was closer to 40 percent.

The other important trend is gender. More American men than women support Trump—and that gap is growing. Now it seems like the same phenomenon applies to young people. Among likely young women voters, Biden leads Trump by 33 points in the new Harvard poll; among young men, he only leads by six. (In 2020, Biden led young men by 26 points.)

This gender chasm may not actually be reflected in November’s outcome. But that, pollsters say, will be the possible realignment to watch. “It will make the youth vote less Democratic for one,” Cox said. And “a longer-term political gender divide could transform the character of the political parties.”

Related:

Are Gen Z men and women really drifting apart? Generation Z doesn’t remember when America worked (From 2022)

Today’s News

Twelve jurors were sworn in for Donald Trump’s hush-money criminal trial in New York; the selection of alternate jurors will resume tomorrow. A commander of Iran’s Islamic Revolutionary Guard Corps said that it is “possible and conceivable” that Iran will reconsider its nuclear policies if Israel attacks Iranian nuclear facilities. In a new package of bills dealing with aid to Israel and Ukraine, the U.S. House revived legislation that would force TikTok’s owner to either sell the social-media platform or face a national ban.

Dispatches

Work in Progress: Supercheap electric cars from China or an American industrial renaissance? Pick one, Rogé Karma writes. Time-Travel Thursdays: Helen Keller was funny, smart, and much more complex than many people know, Ellen Cushing writes.

Explore all of our newsletters here.

Evening Read

Investigation Discovery

The Uncomfortable Truth About Child Abuse in Hollywood

By Hannah Giorgis

During Nickelodeon’s golden era, the network captivated young viewers by introducing them to an impressive roster of comedic talent—who happened to be kids, just like them … For nearly two decades, the network dominated not just kids’ programming, but the entire cable-TV landscape.

A new docuseries argues that at least some of this success came at a great cost. Quiet on Set: The Dark Side of Kids TV explores troubling allegations of child abuse and other inappropriate on-set behavior during this run at Nickelodeon. The documentary builds on a 2022 Business Insider investigation into programs led by the prolific producer Dan Schneider, and on details from a memoir published earlier that year by the former child star Jennette McCurdy. (McCurdy, who doesn’t identify Schneider by name in her book but describes an abusive showrunner widely believed to be him, was not involved with the documentary.) Over its five episodes, the series offers an important record of how the adults working on these shows—and Hollywood as a whole—repeatedly failed to protect young actors. But Quiet on Set also, perhaps unintentionally, ends up creating a frustratingly tidy narrative that elides some crucial complexities of abuse.

Read the full article.

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P.S.

In case you haven’t heard, it’s Pop Girl Spring! And tonight is the big night: Taylor Swift is releasing her new album, The Tortured Poets Department. I’m thrilled, because I love a breakup album, and this one promises to be moody and campy in equal measure. (The track list includes songs called “The Smallest Man Who Ever Lived” and “But Daddy I Love Him”!) For a really thoughtful unpacking of the album, I recommend tuning into the Every Single Album podcast from The Ringer, hosted by Nora Princiotti and Nathan Hubbard. They have a preview episode up now, and a new one will be out in a few days.

Even if Taylor isn’t your cup of tea (gasp!), their other episodes covering new music from Beyoncé, Maggie Rogers, and Kacey Musgraves are delightful and informative, too.

— Elaine

Stephanie Bai contributed to this newsletter.

When you buy a book using a link in this newsletter, we receive a commission. Thank you for supporting The Atlantic.

During Nickelodeon’s golden era, the network captivated young viewers by introducing them to an impressive roster of comedic talent—who happened to be kids, just like them. Starting in the mid-1990s, actors such as Amanda Bynes, Kenan Thompson, and Ariana Grande became household names, as popular children’s shows including All That, Drake & Josh, and Zoey 101 helped propel Nickelodeon to astronomical ratings. For nearly two decades, the network dominated not just kids’ programming, but the entire cable-TV landscape.

A new docuseries argues that at least some of this success came at a great cost. Quiet on Set: The Dark Side of Kids TV explores troubling allegations of child abuse and other inappropriate on-set behavior during this run at Nickelodeon. The documentary builds on a 2022 Business Insider investigation into programs led by the prolific producer Dan Schneider, and on details from a memoir published earlier that year by the former child star Jennette McCurdy. (McCurdy, who doesn’t identify Schneider by name in her book but describes an abusive showrunner widely believed to be him, was not involved with the documentary.) Over its five episodes, the series offers an important record of how the adults working on these shows—and Hollywood as a whole—repeatedly failed to protect young actors. But Quiet on Set also, perhaps unintentionally, ends up creating a frustratingly tidy narrative that elides some crucial complexities of abuse.

The series spends its first two episodes painting a picture of the toxic environment that Schneider allegedly cultivated for adults and children alike. Two former Amanda Show writers say that Schneider harassed female employees; former All That actors recall their discomfort performing sketches full of racial stereotypes and sexual innuendo. Several interview subjects described a culture of deference to Schneider, one in which they felt afraid to raise their concerns.

In a video response to the series, Schneider apologized for requesting massages from female staffers, said that he wished he could go back and change “how I treat people,” and conceded that he would be willing to cut any upsetting jokes from his shows that are streaming. (At the end of every Quiet on Set episode, a title card relays Nickelodeon’s response to the producers’ questions: The network said it “investigates all formal complaints as part of our commitment to fostering a safe and professional workplace … We have adopted numerous safeguards over the years to help ensure we are living up to our own high standards and the expectations of our audience.”)

[Read: What tween TV teaches kids]

Quiet on Set shows how the culture of silence created work environments that endangered young performers. The documentary covers multiple harrowing cases of child sexual abuse perpetrated by individuals who worked in close proximity to Nickelodeon’s underage actors. Jason Handy, a production assistant on All That and The Amanda Show, was arrested for lewd acts with children in 2003 and later pleaded no contest to two of the felony counts and one misdemeanor charge. He was sentenced to six years in prison and later arrested on new sex-abuse charges in 2014. In the documentary, the Business Insider journalist Kate Taylor reads stomach-churning quotes from Handy’s journal, before revealing that another Nickelodeon crew member was arrested just four months after him: Brian Peck, a dialogue coach and an occasional actor on All That, was charged with 11 counts of child sexual abuse. After pleading no contest, Peck was convicted of two of the counts against him and sentenced to 16 months in prison.

The documentary’s most shocking revelation is that the unnamed victim in Peck’s case is now an adult who wants to tell his story: The Drake & Josh star Drake Bell, speaking publicly about the abuse for the first time, explains how Peck integrated himself into Bell’s life after the two met at an Amanda Show table read. “In hindsight, I should’ve been able to see,” Bell says. “But as a kid, you have no clue.” Bell’s chronicle of the abuse is wrenching, in no small part because it underscores how adults failed to keep him and the other children in Nickelodeon’s studios safe from predators.

Quiet on Set argues that Peck’s on-set behavior fits within a larger pattern on Schneider’s shows: boundary-crossing behind the scenes and inappropriate sexual innuendo on the air. In a clip from an old All That episode, a celebrity guest complains of hunger, and Peck’s recurring character, known as “Pickle Boy,” hands him a pickle to eat through a hole in the dressing-room door. The camera zooms in to capture that visual, which clearly evokes a pornographic trope. One former All That actor recalls that, during downtime, Peck would play video games with the children; another reads an old note in which Peck thanked her for walking on his back. The former child actors repeatedly emphasize that although other grown-ups were present on set for many questionable incidents, no one from Nickelodeon ever stepped in. (In his video statement, Schneider says that he didn’t hire Peck and was devastated to hear the allegations of abuse.)

In making many of these stories public for the first time, Quiet on Set is the latest project to expose the ways in which Hollywood enables child sexual abuse—and to call for industry reforms. The former actors speaking in the new series echo many of the sentiments expressed in Dear Hollywood, an incisive podcast by the former Disney Channel ingénue Alyson Stoner. Three years ago, Stoner wrote about a phenomenon they called the “toddler-to-trainwreck pipeline,” describing it as a profitable system that has continued apace since the 19th century by “censoring the harm happening behind the scenes, manicuring aspirational lifestyles and outcomes, and then watching young lives tragically implode.” In their writing and on their podcast, Stoner presents disturbing personal testimony and discusses issues that child stars face, such as the prevalence of eating disorders, fractured family dynamics, and the psychological toll of fame. Stoner also offers concrete steps the industry should take, such as requiring a qualified, third-party mental-health professional on every set.

Last week, Quiet on Set, which was originally billed as a four-part series, released a bonus fifth episode that explores tangible solutions. Shane Lyons, a former All That cast member, said that the first place to start would be updating the law “so that no individual who is a convicted child molester can ever get on a Hollywood set again.” That may sound like an obvious fix. But the California law that details protections for children in the entertainment industry, and which mandates background checks for many professionals who work with child actors, has a major loophole: It doesn’t apply if a parent or guardian is always present with their child on set.

[Read: Don’t judge I’m Glad My Mom Died by its title]

The show makes the limits of this provision—and the stakes of leaving it unchanged—incredibly clear. Even if the onus is on parents to protect their kids, abusers frequently conceal their predatory actions from other adults. What’s more, parents who try to advocate for their kids can end up ostracized, putting their children’s career (and self-esteem) on the line.

The docuseries creates a startling and horrifying picture of how Hollywood’s systemic flaws have long put children at risk. But Quiet on Set also has its shortcomings. The series isn’t always careful with its depictions of alleged victims or of former child stars, especially those who chose not to participate in the project. Amanda Bynes was a key part of Nickelodeon’s rise, but the documentary’s commentary about her closeness to Schneider and her later mental-health struggles sometimes registers as cursory speculation without Bynes there to speak for herself.

[Read: The hard lessons of Amanda Bynes’s comeback]

Parts of Bell’s story are similarly under-contextualized, despite the actor’s heavy involvement in the series: Quiet on Set publicizes the names of several industry figures who wrote letters of support for Peck after his conviction. (These letters were previously sealed, along with other court documents.) Excerpts from some of the 41 letters show just how much backing Peck had in Hollywood, but in its eagerness to implicate others, the series overlooks how Peck may have wielded authority over some of the signatories.

Throughout the series, Peck is described as a master manipulator, someone who infiltrated Bell’s life when the actor was a teenager partly by earning his mother’s trust. But the documentary never meaningfully addresses the fact that some of the performers who wrote letters of support for Peck had met the much older dialogue coach while they, too, were teens. This doesn’t necessarily absolve them of criticism. But the series could have examined how such unequal dynamics can influence young people’s behavior in an ecosystem as insular as children’s programming, and considered the possibility that Peck’s manipulation extended further. Even including the detail of the letter signers’ ages along with this commentary would have provided valuable information to viewers attempting to make sense of the case and how it was perceived at the time.

In the weeks since the documentary began airing, former Nickelodeon fans have criticized many Hollywood figures, including former child actors, for having shown support for Peck. And some of the network’s former actors have faced backlash for simply not speaking up—whether in solidarity with Bell or to publicly share their own negative experiences. In last week’s bonus fifth episode of Quiet on Set, Bell asked that fans be more compassionate toward his mom and reiterated an earlier request for fans to “take it a little easy” on his former co-star Josh Peck (who is no relation to Brian Peck).

In another unfortunate misstep, Quiet on Set avoids wrestling with the full reality of Bell’s life after Peck’s abuse. In 2021, Bell himself pleaded guilty to felony attempted child endangerment and a misdemeanor charge of disseminating matter harmful to juveniles in a case involving a 15-year-old girl, when Bell was 31. The documentary largely brushes past this, allowing Bell to obfuscate the details of these allegations by conflating the case with his other “self-destructive behavior” and suggesting that the media have spread “misinformation” about him.

These oversights undermine the docuseries’ attempts to rigorously confront the pernicious nature of abuse, and instead present viewers with clearly delineated camps of good and evil, perpetrator and victim. This flawed framing has also left Bell’s accuser vulnerable to heightened public scrutiny: After the series premiered, fans began creating TikTok videos discussing the 2021 case. There, and on other social-media platforms, some people shared the accuser’s real name or suggested that she had been lying. People also harassed Bell’s former girlfriend, who in 2020 accused the actor of physical and emotional abuse during their relationship—allegations that Bell has flatly denied as “offensive and defamatory.” Just last week, Bell insisted that he was innocent in the 2021 case (despite already having pleaded guilty) while speaking about Quiet on Set on a podcast, which further emboldened these fans.

Many of these more recent updates couldn’t possibly have been accounted for in a documentary that had already finished filming. But the bonus episode—a coda of sorts—offered a chance for Quiet on Set to reckon with the sad fact that it’s not uncommon for abuse victims to become offenders in adulthood. True intervention requires understanding abuse in ways that aren’t binary, and the show would have benefited tremendously from asking a mental-health expert to talk about these cycles. Protecting children in Hollywood and beyond is a collective effort, one that demands seriously engaging with even the most uncomfortable truths. Quiet on Set marks one important step in that direction, but there’s so much more left to do.

The actress responds to Hollywood producer Carol Baum saying: "She's not pretty, she can't act."

Last year was widely hailed as a breakthrough for the American worker. Amid a historically hot labor market, the United Auto Workers and Hollywood writers’ and actors’ guilds launched high-profile strikes that made front-page news and resulted in significant victories. Strikes, organizing efforts, and public support for unions reached heights not seen since the 1960s. Two in three Americans support unions, and 59 percent say they would be in favor of unionizing their own workplace. And Joe Biden supports organized labor more vocally than any other president in recent memory. You could look at all this and say that the U.S. labor movement is stronger than it has been in decades.

But you could just as easily say that worker power in America is as low as it has been in nearly a century. Despite all the headlines and good feeling, a mere 10 percent of American workers belong to unions. In the private sector, the share is just 6 percent. After years of intense media attention and dogged organizing efforts, workers at Amazon, Starbucks, and Trader Joe’s still don’t have a contract, or even the start of negotiations to get one. Union membership is associated with higher earnings, better benefits, stable hours, protection from arbitrary discipline, and more—but most Americans haven’t had the chance to experience these advantages firsthand. In 2023, according to an estimate by the Economic Policy Institute, a progressive think tank, 60 million working people in this country wanted a union but couldn’t get one.  

How can this be? The answer, as I learned during my 25 years working for the AFL-CIO, the nation’s largest federation of unions, is that the story of organized labor in America is really two stories. On the one hand, established unions—especially those that emerged in the 1930s, when labor protections were at their most robust and expansive—are thriving. On the other hand, workers who want to unionize for the first time can’t get their efforts off the ground.

This is because the legal and policy shifts that hobbled the American labor movement were not primarily aimed at dismantling existing unions, at least not right away. Rather, they were designed to make it difficult to form new ones. Those efforts worked. In 1954, 16 million working people belonged to a union, and they accounted for about a third of the workforce. Today, nearly as many people are in unions—about 14 million—but they make up only 10 percent of the workforce. In other words, the numerator of unionized workers has held steady even as the denominator of overall jobs in the economy has grown dramatically. And all the support from the public and even the president can’t do much to change that. As hopeful as today’s moment might seem for workers, those hopes will not be realized without reversing the changes that laid unions low in the first place.  

A century ago, an even smaller portion of the workforce belonged to a union than does today, and it showed. Then, as now, income inequality had reached staggering heights. Industrial workplaces of the 1920s were police states, with corporate spy agencies, private armies, and company stores.

The tide shifted in workers’ favor during the Great Depression. In 1935, responding to years of rising labor militancy, Congress passed the Wagner Act, an integral part of Franklin D. Roosevelt’s New Deal agenda. The law gave working people robust rights to form and join labor unions and to take collective action, such as strikes. It created the National Labor Relations Board, tasked with ensuring that employers didn’t violate these rights. And it declared that protecting “the free flow of commerce” also meant protecting the “full freedom” of working people to organize. Overall union membership rose from just 11 percent of the workforce in 1934 to 34 percent in 1945.

[Morgan Ome: What the labor movement can learn from its past]

Then the tide shifted back. After the Congress of Industrial Organizations began organizing multiracial unions in the South, segregationist Southern Democrats, whose votes had been crucial for passing the Wagner Act, joined forces with pro-corporate Republicans to stymie the New Deal labor agenda. This effort culminated in the Taft-Hartley Act of 1947, which stripped key labor protections from the Wagner Act. President Harry Truman denounced the bill as “a shocking piece of legislation” that would “take fundamental rights away from our working people.” But the Senate overrode his veto.

Taft-Hartley marked the beginning of the end of America’s short-lived period of strong organized-labor rights. It allowed states to pass “right to work” laws that let workers free-ride on union benefits without paying dues, which would help keep southern states low-wage and non-union. Taft-Hartley made it a crime for workers to join together across employers in “sympathy strikes” (unlike in Sweden, where postal workers refused last year to deliver license plates as a show of support for striking Tesla workers), or even across workplaces in the same industry. It also included anti-communist provisions that led to a purge of many of the labor movement’s most effective organizers, especially those most successful in promoting multiracial organizing. Taken together, these changes choked off the growth of working-class solidarity that was flourishing in other Western democracies at the time.

Taft-Hartley did not immediately doom the labor movement, however. It was more like a time bomb. Established unions remained strong and popular for decades, boosted by the conventional wisdom that a careful balance between labor and capital was the goose laying the postwar golden eggs. As Dwight Eisenhower wrote to his brother in 1954, “Should any political party attempt to abolish social security, unemployment insurance, and eliminate labor laws and farm programs, you would not hear of that party again in our political history.”

The time bomb finally began to go off in the 1970s, when a confluence of factors—the stagflation crisis, the rise of Milton Friedman–style economic theory, the fracturing of the Democratic coalition—made anti-union policy much more politically viable. And corruption in some unions, laid bare by high-profile congressional hearings, cast doubt on the integrity of unions generally. Richard Nixon appointed pro-corporate justices to the Supreme Court who over the following decades would dilute labor protections even further than Taft-Hartley had. And in 1981, Ronald Reagan crushed the air-traffic-controller strike, signaling that the federal government would tolerate aggressive union-busting actions by employers. This in turn gave birth to a new “union avoidance” consulting business that taught bosses how to exploit the vulnerabilities that had been injected into labor law. Those vulnerabilities turned out to be extensive.

During the period between the passage of the Wagner Act and Taft-Hartley, union organizing was relatively straightforward. Organizers would typically distribute cards to rank-and-file activists, who would collect signatures and return them to the organizers, who would file the signed cards with the NLRB. If a majority of a workplace signed the cards, the NLRB would certify the union. During bargaining, if the company and the union couldn’t reach agreement, the workers had various ways of exerting leverage, including calling a sit-down strike or blocking the employer’s goods from being accepted at other workplaces.

Today, even if a majority of workers sign union cards, the union has to win an NLRB election to be recognized. This process does not much resemble the free and fair elections we vote in every other November. The company can hire anti-union consultants, who will advise doing everything possible to delay that election, giving management time to intensify its lobbying efforts to scare employees out of voting yes. Thanks to Taft-Hartley’s so-called free-speech clause, employers have a broad range of tactics to choose from. For instance, although they are not technically allowed to threaten to close a warehouse if workers unionize, they can “predict” that the warehouse will have to close if the union goes through. They can make employees attend anti-union propaganda meetings during work hours, and they don’t have to let union organizers set foot in the parking lot to respond.

If a union overcomes these obstacles to win majority support, corporate higher-ups, though technically obligated to bargain in good faith, can drag their heels on contract negotiations with few repercussions. This helps explain why the Amazon Labor Union—which was founded in Staten Island in April 2021 and recognized by the NLRB in April 2022— still doesn’t appear close to having a contract. Labor might be regaining its cultural cachet, but after the triumphant vote is complete and the news cameras go away, employers hold almost all the cards.

[Adam Serwer: The Amazon union exposes the emptiness of ‘woke capital’]

This dynamic, rather than economic or technological shifts, is the key reason workers in more recently established industries are not organized. If Uber and Lyft had been invented in the 1930s, there would be a large, powerful Rideshare Drivers’ Union. If movies had been invented in the 2020s, the notion of an actors’ guild or a screenwriters’ union would seem absurd to most people. There is nothing more inherently “unionizable” about one job versus another.

Organized labor could still make a true comeback, one reflected not just in public goodwill but in actual union jobs. The Protecting the Rights to Organize Act, first introduced in 2019, is a comprehensive effort to restore the balance of power in the workplace—repealing much of the Taft-Hartley Act, including its so-called right-to-work provisions and its ban on solidarity actions. The PRO Act passed the House, but stalled in the Senate when a few Democratic senators refused to back filibuster-reform efforts in 2021.  

The PRO Act is a strong bill, and I fought for it during my time as political director of the AFL-CIO. But one of the lessons of the American labor movement is that legal change tends to follow cultural change. Recent trends are encouraging. Biden brags about being the first president to visit a picket line, and Trump, despite having pursued anti-labor policies while president, at least feels the need to try to appear pro-union. At the same time, with less fanfare, the strategic effort to dilute worker power continues apace: Red-state legislatures are rolling back basic labor laws, including those that protect children, and Amazon, Starbucks, SpaceX, and Trader Joe’s have asked the the Supreme Court to declare the NLRB unconstitutional.

The paradox is that it’s hard for labor law to become a top-tier political issue precisely because so few Americans have firsthand experience with union membership, or recognize what they have to gain from resetting the balance of power between workers and corporations. Overcoming that challenge requires recovering the wisdom that created the modern labor movement: that the fate of working people anywhere is the fate of working people everywhere. It happened once, nearly a century ago. The country was a very different place back then. But, for better and for worse, it was also much the same.