The Uncommitted Movement Holds Its Final Rally in Michigan
The "uncommitted" movement on campuses in Michigan has diminished. However, in a battleground state known for its razor-thin margins, a handful of remaining supporters could make a significant impact.
TroibNews 
**EAST LANSING, Michigan** — Jesse Estrada White is grappling with his decision for the upcoming election, acutely aware of the implications at stake.
The 21-year-old senior from Michigan State University has been a prominent advocate in pro-Palestinian demonstrations on campus. As the February primary approached, many activists like him chose not to support President Joe Biden as a form of protest against his backing of Israel, aiming to influence a shift in his policies. With the general election approaching and no sign of a concrete policy alteration, Estrada White finds himself at a crossroads—hesitant to back Kamala Harris due to her perceived support for Israel's actions in Gaza, yet deeply concerned about the consequences of a Trump victory.
The prospect of a Trump resurgence worries him, conjuring a Democratic nightmare scenario where:
Donald Trump secures Nevada, Arizona, and Georgia, totaling 268 electoral votes. Kamala Harris wins in Wisconsin and Pennsylvania, reaching 255. Michigan then becomes the deciding factor. While Harris makes her needed gains in Detroit, she encounters unexpectedly strong backing for Green Party candidate Jill Stein from Arab American communities in Dearborn and Dearborn Heights. In these areas, Trump’s support increases from 2020, particularly among some conservative Muslim voters shifting rightward on social issues. Additionally, votes from the “uncommitted” movement on college campuses—young voters who can't endorse a candidate they feel is overly sympathetic to Israel—could tip the balance. In a state Trump won by just 10,704 votes in 2016, this scenario might crown him once more.
Reasons for concern are palpable. In February, during the Democratic primary, the uncommitted movement demonstrated significant influence in Ann Arbor and East Lansing, with 19 percent and 15 percent of the vote, respectively. That turnout occurred while students at both universities were on spring break. However, this November, approximately 75,000 undergraduates from MSU and the University of Michigan will be present. If a sufficient number of them vote uncommitted or for third parties—or choose not to vote—the election's outcome could be impacted.
Estrada White is apprehensive about these possibilities.
“I feel this fear of a Trump presidency, and I’m committed to not letting that happen,” he confides in a hushed tone, mindful of his peers studying nearby. With Mexican ancestry from his mother’s side, he expresses anxiety over the potential consequences of a Trump presidency.
Still, doubt hounds him about casting his vote for Harris.
“I’ll never not vote,” he asserts. “I’ll always vote down-ticket. And I don’t believe voting third party is an effective strategy here in this state. It’s a swing state; we have a lot to win and lose. … For me, my vote is—like, Harris has to do something to win it. I need to see [a] policy that says something in Israel is going to change.”
This highlights the struggle faced by one “uncommitted” college voter in Michigan.
Estrada White isn’t alone in his sentiments on campus. The decisions made by voters like him could significantly influence the presidential race.
The first voting experience is unforgettable.
A progressive 21-year-old college student in 1960 might have been inspired by John F. Kennedy; in 2008, it could have been Barack Obama, embodying hope.
Now, consider the situation for a progressive 21-year-old in 2024.
Having grown up under Trump’s political reign, which often felt more normative than exceptional, one navigates a landscape marred by pandemic disruptions during high school, potentially culminating in virtual graduations. The subsequent college years unfolded beneath Biden’s moderate yet uninspiring presidency, characterized more by somber reflections on the past than by stimulating visions for the future.
As February 2024 arrives, for many first-time voters, the sentiment may shift away from embracing a candidate, leading them instead to mark their ballot “uncommitted.” Estrada White describes this potential outcome as feeling…
“Shitty.”
In February, he was among 101,623 Michigan voters—13.2 percent of the total electorate—who selected “uncommitted” in the state's Democratic primary, a coalition of leftists, Arab Americans, Muslims, and young voters united in their discontent with the Biden administration’s stance on Israel amid its military actions in Gaza, which have resulted in over 41,000 fatalities.
Since then, two developments have tugged at the “uncommitted” coalition in contrary directions: the escalating humanitarian crisis in Gaza and the succession of Harris as the Democratic nominee. While the worsening situation has deepened resistance to the Democratic ticket among Arab and Muslim voters, Harris’s nomination has sparked renewed enthusiasm from college-aged voters. Many are galvanized by a desire for new leadership focused on issues such as defending abortion rights and safeguarding democratic values.
Support for Harris among students is also winning momentum, but the uncommitted movement grapples with an issue of endurance similar to that affecting Gaza demonstrators. “People are burning out,” Estrada White admits. “Month after month, almost going on an entire year, we see this genocide happening. I think there’s large sections of campus—ones who aren’t having to readily interact with their family being in Gaza—who are getting desensitized to the violence.”
Saba Saed, a 22-year-old neuroscience major with family in Gaza, understands the desensitization affecting her peers. Growing up in Palestine before moving to Michigan at age 12, she actively participates in pro-Palestinian protests.
“You kind of have to be,” she remarks at a campus coffee shop while other students nearby engage in exam-related discussions. “Should a rational person be able to conceptualize what’s happening there, day to day?”
When asked about the conflict and Israel’s military actions against Gaza, she reacts with sensitivity to the choice of words, perceiving them as indicators of a desensitized perspective.
“Is it not concerning, slightly, how violent this past year has been? And we’re still debating whether or not it is, like… you’re using ‘assault’? ‘War’? No. Gen-o-cide.”
Young voters supporting Harris also acknowledge the grim reality in Gaza.
“Obviously, there’s a genocide going on,” states Matthew Anderson, a 22-year-old political organizer. He was running a voter registration table on campus recently. “But we can still do our part on women’s rights, environmental rights and stopping a would-be dictator.”
Anderson is casting his vote for Harris.
The discourse surrounding Gaza intensified concurrently with Biden's withdrawal from the ticket in favor of Harris, who is perceived as better equipped to convey a clear message and effectively challenge Trump. On campus, sentiments regarding Biden included a fair share of reluctance: “We held our noses in 2020; why are we doing it again in 2024?” says Anne Ginzburg, a 21-year-old statistics major who previously supported Biden in the primary but now sees an uptick in enthusiasm under Harris.
This enthusiasm partly stems from Harris’s perceived relative youth and the freedom for students to project their ideals onto her candidacy, observes Jaiden Higgins, a freshman who supports Harris but is just shy of being eligible to vote.
Moreover, Democrats have effectively communicated the stakes for students. Recent political advertisements in *The State News*, the student-run newspaper at MSU, emphasize that “Trump’s Project 2025 agenda will kick students off their parents’ health insurance at age 19.” Meanwhile, another ad from the Harris campaign spotlights the election's "fundamental freedoms," including the “freedom to live safe from gun violence”—a pressing concern for a campus still recalling a tragic shooting in February 2023.
Additionally, students resonate with the message promoting “the freedom to make decisions about your own body.” Abortion rights became enshrined in Michigan's state constitution through a 2022 ballot initiative that garnered over 56 percent support. This included nearly 70 percent backing in Ingham County, where students demonstrated their commitment to voting in a midterm election.
Excitement for Harris is “hand in hand” with opposition to Trump, according to Liam Richichi, the 21-year-old MSU Democrats president. He notes a dramatic surge in participation at chapter events, with nearly 150 attendees marking a record turnout for the semester’s opening meeting.
“People are excited to have somebody who is new blood, someone that’s… kind of passing the torch,” he expresses.
Despite this, the situation in Gaza continues to be a prevalent topic of discourse, Richichi acknowledges. However, the weight of Biden's departure from the ticket has alleviated some burdens for campus Democrats.
Not everyone feels driven to support Harris or recognizes the urgency of opposing Trump. Several students remain ambivalent about committing to her candidacy, a reality that carries weight in a closely contested swing state. Some express a degree of indifference toward the threat Trump poses.
“I’m not scared of him. He’s all, like, bark and barely any bite,” Saed asserts, indicating that no candidate yet has earned her endorsement, though she intends to vote in November.
“I just blame the Democrats if they lose to Trump; it’s not my responsibility at that point,” she adds.
Saed is familiar with the line of questioning that arises when people suggest that withholding support from Harris could pave the way for a Trump resurgence: “‘As an Arab-American, are you going to [be OK] with a Muslim ban? Is that going to be fine with you?’” she reflects. “You know what? If it comes [with] saving people from genocide.”
Having "settled" for Biden in her first election in 2020, she expresses fatigue over the need to compromise.
This sense of compromise also extends to views on Harris. Some students criticize her for not articulating a distinctly different stance on Gaza. “You really have to question whether this ‘cease-fire’ rhetoric [from the Harris campaign] is genuine, because it’s always caveated with ‘cease-fire, but we want a hostage deal’—as if a hostage deal hasn’t been on the table since October,” Estrada White remarks. “And also, like, what is the role of the vice president in the cease-fire deal? Working day and night? Well, where is it? We haven’t seen it yet. … If we actually cared about getting a cease-fire deal, the vice president would call for an arms embargo.”
So, where does this leave him regarding his ballot? Will it be filled for Harris or left blank for the presidential choice? He remains undecided. When questioned about the significance of abstaining from voting, he ponders the implications of both apathy and protest, recognizing their similar outcomes.
“I think divorced from the reality in which they’re happening, the effect is the same. But I think … oftentimes, the act of an election campaign is saying, ‘Hey, we’re making a collective decision that we want this person or this policy in place so that things can get better for us because we believe what they’re saying.’ And so, if you’re saying, ‘I’m not going to vote because I don’t care,’ that to me is weird, because why abandon a way in which we could, if marginally, improve our lives? But if you’re saying, ‘I’m not voting because I actually don’t believe anyone on the ticket right now is going to benefit me or the people that I love and care about,’ I would say, ‘OK, that makes sense to me.’”
Estrada White holds out hope for a reason to vote for Harris, wishing for a compelling case showcasing how she might be more favorable toward Gaza than Biden.
Yet, as of now, he hasn’t found that rationale.
“At the end of the day,” he concludes, “I’ll decide when I get into the voting booth.”
Navid Kalantari contributed to this report for TROIB News
The 21-year-old senior from Michigan State University has been a prominent advocate in pro-Palestinian demonstrations on campus. As the February primary approached, many activists like him chose not to support President Joe Biden as a form of protest against his backing of Israel, aiming to influence a shift in his policies. With the general election approaching and no sign of a concrete policy alteration, Estrada White finds himself at a crossroads—hesitant to back Kamala Harris due to her perceived support for Israel's actions in Gaza, yet deeply concerned about the consequences of a Trump victory.
The prospect of a Trump resurgence worries him, conjuring a Democratic nightmare scenario where:
Donald Trump secures Nevada, Arizona, and Georgia, totaling 268 electoral votes. Kamala Harris wins in Wisconsin and Pennsylvania, reaching 255. Michigan then becomes the deciding factor. While Harris makes her needed gains in Detroit, she encounters unexpectedly strong backing for Green Party candidate Jill Stein from Arab American communities in Dearborn and Dearborn Heights. In these areas, Trump’s support increases from 2020, particularly among some conservative Muslim voters shifting rightward on social issues. Additionally, votes from the “uncommitted” movement on college campuses—young voters who can't endorse a candidate they feel is overly sympathetic to Israel—could tip the balance. In a state Trump won by just 10,704 votes in 2016, this scenario might crown him once more.
Reasons for concern are palpable. In February, during the Democratic primary, the uncommitted movement demonstrated significant influence in Ann Arbor and East Lansing, with 19 percent and 15 percent of the vote, respectively. That turnout occurred while students at both universities were on spring break. However, this November, approximately 75,000 undergraduates from MSU and the University of Michigan will be present. If a sufficient number of them vote uncommitted or for third parties—or choose not to vote—the election's outcome could be impacted.
Estrada White is apprehensive about these possibilities.
“I feel this fear of a Trump presidency, and I’m committed to not letting that happen,” he confides in a hushed tone, mindful of his peers studying nearby. With Mexican ancestry from his mother’s side, he expresses anxiety over the potential consequences of a Trump presidency.
Still, doubt hounds him about casting his vote for Harris.
“I’ll never not vote,” he asserts. “I’ll always vote down-ticket. And I don’t believe voting third party is an effective strategy here in this state. It’s a swing state; we have a lot to win and lose. … For me, my vote is—like, Harris has to do something to win it. I need to see [a] policy that says something in Israel is going to change.”
This highlights the struggle faced by one “uncommitted” college voter in Michigan.
Estrada White isn’t alone in his sentiments on campus. The decisions made by voters like him could significantly influence the presidential race.
The first voting experience is unforgettable.
A progressive 21-year-old college student in 1960 might have been inspired by John F. Kennedy; in 2008, it could have been Barack Obama, embodying hope.
Now, consider the situation for a progressive 21-year-old in 2024.
Having grown up under Trump’s political reign, which often felt more normative than exceptional, one navigates a landscape marred by pandemic disruptions during high school, potentially culminating in virtual graduations. The subsequent college years unfolded beneath Biden’s moderate yet uninspiring presidency, characterized more by somber reflections on the past than by stimulating visions for the future.
As February 2024 arrives, for many first-time voters, the sentiment may shift away from embracing a candidate, leading them instead to mark their ballot “uncommitted.” Estrada White describes this potential outcome as feeling…
“Shitty.”
In February, he was among 101,623 Michigan voters—13.2 percent of the total electorate—who selected “uncommitted” in the state's Democratic primary, a coalition of leftists, Arab Americans, Muslims, and young voters united in their discontent with the Biden administration’s stance on Israel amid its military actions in Gaza, which have resulted in over 41,000 fatalities.
Since then, two developments have tugged at the “uncommitted” coalition in contrary directions: the escalating humanitarian crisis in Gaza and the succession of Harris as the Democratic nominee. While the worsening situation has deepened resistance to the Democratic ticket among Arab and Muslim voters, Harris’s nomination has sparked renewed enthusiasm from college-aged voters. Many are galvanized by a desire for new leadership focused on issues such as defending abortion rights and safeguarding democratic values.
Support for Harris among students is also winning momentum, but the uncommitted movement grapples with an issue of endurance similar to that affecting Gaza demonstrators. “People are burning out,” Estrada White admits. “Month after month, almost going on an entire year, we see this genocide happening. I think there’s large sections of campus—ones who aren’t having to readily interact with their family being in Gaza—who are getting desensitized to the violence.”
Saba Saed, a 22-year-old neuroscience major with family in Gaza, understands the desensitization affecting her peers. Growing up in Palestine before moving to Michigan at age 12, she actively participates in pro-Palestinian protests.
“You kind of have to be,” she remarks at a campus coffee shop while other students nearby engage in exam-related discussions. “Should a rational person be able to conceptualize what’s happening there, day to day?”
When asked about the conflict and Israel’s military actions against Gaza, she reacts with sensitivity to the choice of words, perceiving them as indicators of a desensitized perspective.
“Is it not concerning, slightly, how violent this past year has been? And we’re still debating whether or not it is, like… you’re using ‘assault’? ‘War’? No. Gen-o-cide.”
Young voters supporting Harris also acknowledge the grim reality in Gaza.
“Obviously, there’s a genocide going on,” states Matthew Anderson, a 22-year-old political organizer. He was running a voter registration table on campus recently. “But we can still do our part on women’s rights, environmental rights and stopping a would-be dictator.”
Anderson is casting his vote for Harris.
The discourse surrounding Gaza intensified concurrently with Biden's withdrawal from the ticket in favor of Harris, who is perceived as better equipped to convey a clear message and effectively challenge Trump. On campus, sentiments regarding Biden included a fair share of reluctance: “We held our noses in 2020; why are we doing it again in 2024?” says Anne Ginzburg, a 21-year-old statistics major who previously supported Biden in the primary but now sees an uptick in enthusiasm under Harris.
This enthusiasm partly stems from Harris’s perceived relative youth and the freedom for students to project their ideals onto her candidacy, observes Jaiden Higgins, a freshman who supports Harris but is just shy of being eligible to vote.
Moreover, Democrats have effectively communicated the stakes for students. Recent political advertisements in *The State News*, the student-run newspaper at MSU, emphasize that “Trump’s Project 2025 agenda will kick students off their parents’ health insurance at age 19.” Meanwhile, another ad from the Harris campaign spotlights the election's "fundamental freedoms," including the “freedom to live safe from gun violence”—a pressing concern for a campus still recalling a tragic shooting in February 2023.
Additionally, students resonate with the message promoting “the freedom to make decisions about your own body.” Abortion rights became enshrined in Michigan's state constitution through a 2022 ballot initiative that garnered over 56 percent support. This included nearly 70 percent backing in Ingham County, where students demonstrated their commitment to voting in a midterm election.
Excitement for Harris is “hand in hand” with opposition to Trump, according to Liam Richichi, the 21-year-old MSU Democrats president. He notes a dramatic surge in participation at chapter events, with nearly 150 attendees marking a record turnout for the semester’s opening meeting.
“People are excited to have somebody who is new blood, someone that’s… kind of passing the torch,” he expresses.
Despite this, the situation in Gaza continues to be a prevalent topic of discourse, Richichi acknowledges. However, the weight of Biden's departure from the ticket has alleviated some burdens for campus Democrats.
Not everyone feels driven to support Harris or recognizes the urgency of opposing Trump. Several students remain ambivalent about committing to her candidacy, a reality that carries weight in a closely contested swing state. Some express a degree of indifference toward the threat Trump poses.
“I’m not scared of him. He’s all, like, bark and barely any bite,” Saed asserts, indicating that no candidate yet has earned her endorsement, though she intends to vote in November.
“I just blame the Democrats if they lose to Trump; it’s not my responsibility at that point,” she adds.
Saed is familiar with the line of questioning that arises when people suggest that withholding support from Harris could pave the way for a Trump resurgence: “‘As an Arab-American, are you going to [be OK] with a Muslim ban? Is that going to be fine with you?’” she reflects. “You know what? If it comes [with] saving people from genocide.”
Having "settled" for Biden in her first election in 2020, she expresses fatigue over the need to compromise.
This sense of compromise also extends to views on Harris. Some students criticize her for not articulating a distinctly different stance on Gaza. “You really have to question whether this ‘cease-fire’ rhetoric [from the Harris campaign] is genuine, because it’s always caveated with ‘cease-fire, but we want a hostage deal’—as if a hostage deal hasn’t been on the table since October,” Estrada White remarks. “And also, like, what is the role of the vice president in the cease-fire deal? Working day and night? Well, where is it? We haven’t seen it yet. … If we actually cared about getting a cease-fire deal, the vice president would call for an arms embargo.”
So, where does this leave him regarding his ballot? Will it be filled for Harris or left blank for the presidential choice? He remains undecided. When questioned about the significance of abstaining from voting, he ponders the implications of both apathy and protest, recognizing their similar outcomes.
“I think divorced from the reality in which they’re happening, the effect is the same. But I think … oftentimes, the act of an election campaign is saying, ‘Hey, we’re making a collective decision that we want this person or this policy in place so that things can get better for us because we believe what they’re saying.’ And so, if you’re saying, ‘I’m not going to vote because I don’t care,’ that to me is weird, because why abandon a way in which we could, if marginally, improve our lives? But if you’re saying, ‘I’m not voting because I actually don’t believe anyone on the ticket right now is going to benefit me or the people that I love and care about,’ I would say, ‘OK, that makes sense to me.’”
Estrada White holds out hope for a reason to vote for Harris, wishing for a compelling case showcasing how she might be more favorable toward Gaza than Biden.
Yet, as of now, he hasn’t found that rationale.
“At the end of the day,” he concludes, “I’ll decide when I get into the voting booth.”
Navid Kalantari contributed to this report for TROIB News
