The three glasses are already close together, ready to touch; we pause for a moment, look each other in the eyes, and together decide to proceed with the toast, defying superstitious precautions and well-established fears. Laura reminds us that if we want change, we must believe in it, trust it, and do our part; if, in an as-yet-undefined future, we’re disappointed, then we’ll protest. Dzafer adds: “What real alternative do we have? None.” I agree: giving in to cynicism, nit-picking, and complaining in advance is not a political alternative. Satisfied and smiling, we clink glasses.
A rally with the iconic name Tax the Rich, promoted by the New York grassroots of the American socialist movement, has just come to an end. This is the same network that Zohran Mamdani hails from, the same network that supported him during the months of his election campaign with an impressive number of over 100,000 volunteers and which today has no intention of stepping aside. It knows full well that a man left alone can do little against the overwhelming power of the rich and powerful, and so it wants to be his strength. The event, blessed by a splendid sunny day, took place in Union Square, Manhattan, where a large number of activists, trade unionists, members of the socialist movement and sympathizers of various kinds gathered around an improvised stage—the steps of the square served as a pulpit.
As usual, most of the participants were young, full of enthusiasm and creativity; but there were also older figures, such as the man next to me, sitting on a folding chair he had brought from home, and Dzafer, as calm as he was dreamy, precisely because of his first sixty years spent fighting social battles in his neighbourhood and struggling for universal civil rights, always on the front line, always in search of truth and justice. Many still wore yellow and blue pins and caps with the words ‘Zohran for mayor’ written on them. There were also many keffiyehs rolled around their necks, but most of all, the square was dotted with orange signs bearing the day’s motto: “Tax the Rich Fund Child Care.” One young woman had even had the ingenious idea of writing it in red, block letters on her dress. In the centre of the square, a young man held aloft a socialist flag, in which a white and a black hand were clasped, symbolizing a model of human society where friendship reigns among peoples and where access to economic and cultural resources is not a privilege reserved for a certain caste, but is shared by all.
It seems that one of the main obstacles to the creation of such a bright society is unequal distribution of wealth. The problem is a long-standing one. I wonder if any historian has ever bothered to count the number of revolts that have taken place over the centuries, led by workers, sometimes as underpaid peasants and sometimes as exploited labourers: those so-called ordinary people who nonetheless need to feed themselves and dream of a better life for themselves and their children.
Taxing billionaires (with an annual income of $1 million or more) would allow us to begin reversing the process. The key is to proceed with a plan that operates in the present while looking to the future, argued a young speaker from the “stage.” We have an agenda to bring the cost of living in our city back within affordable limits for working-class families. Our project is not pie in the sky because we have put human beings, and specifically children, at the centre. They are our future, the future of the entire community. Another speaker talks about his wife, who is a teacher and this year has students who no longer eat in the cafeteria with the other children because they can no longer afford it, because the Trump administration has cut the social benefits they used to pay for their meals. Another recounts that while going door to door for Zohran, a family opened the door to them, surrounded by boxes. Almost in tears, they were leaving. This is not an isolated case. The phenomenon of families forced to leave the city is on the rise, and with them go the children, the joy of every country. Depopulation must be stopped immediately, otherwise New York City will die, and there will be nothing good for anyone, not even for billionaires, even if they do not yet understand this.
Laura, Dzafer, and I talk about this and much more: “Do they think we’re stupid? That we wouldn’t also like to buy a house instead of paying rent, which always feels a bit like throwing money out of the window? Right now, we can’t even afford to talk about it at the dinner table.” “I had to choose between sending my son to college or buying a house; we stayed in rented accommodation.” “Why are some people so greedy? They’d rather spend millions of dollars to oppose the rise of politicians with different views than pay their taxes.” “Isn’t that a form of stupidity?” “It’s the disease of power, which goes hand in hand with greed.” “But they didn’t do well with Zohran; they threw away millions of dollars.” “Did you hear we won in Seattle too?” “Yes, of course, with Katie Wilson. Isn’t it incredible that right now new political figures are emerging who claim to want radical change in society? Zohran led the way, but many must follow him. Only then will we succeed, if we are many, determined, and united.”
So we spend a happy hour together, like old friends in a bar sharing stories of the past and hopes for the future, except that we met less than two hours ago. Or rather, Laura and Dzafer live in the same neighbourhood in the Bronx and met when they were door-to-door canvassing. Laura is Sicilian, naturalized American; she is an artist, a jazz singer, and a lively tour guide. She fell in love in New York, got married, and decided to invest her future there. Dzafer is Muslim and the most New York New Yorker I have ever met. He arrived in the Bronx from Montenegro when he was three years old , grew up there, in a street full of Italians, lives there and wants to die there when his time comes. He laughs as he tells us that he only set foot in Brooklyn for the first time a few years ago because his office was moved there.
We hugged each other goodbye. As I walked away, I reflected on how sharing the ideal of a better and more just world brings people together and allows them to communicate in a new, deeper, and, I would say, finally human way. It naturally creates a space where personal differences are erased, or at least suspended, in the name of something greater and shared by all.
In this crazy, magic time in New York, where it feels like the deck of cards is being reshuffled (I’ve heard it called momentum), sometimes I feel so light that a breath of wind would make me fly.
Translation from Italian by Evelyn Tischer