INDIANOLA, Iowa — A winter sun sits high above Simpson College, casting long shadows on a frostbitten campus as Secret Service agents moved decisively through a fervent crowd. Their targets: a group of young protestors from the climate activist Sunrise Movement, who had just interrupted former President Donald Trump’s speech, boldly labeling him a “climate criminal.”
College student Paul Campion stood with other Sunrise Movement members at the forefront of the protest. Being pursued by antagonized Trump supporters in subzero freezing temperatures, he raised his voice as best he could and said with conviction above the din, “Trump has taken millions of dollars in oil, gas, and coal donations. He destroys the planet for his own political gain and the confidence of those who back him.” The accusation hung in the cold air.
Amidst the fervor, the crowd’s reaction remained mixed. Some looked with indifference, others annoyed. The protest, a sudden eruption in the middle of a relatively disciplined Trump speech, had momentarily shifted the day’s narrative, seeming to amplify political polarization. But not really.
Among the staunch Trump supporters, Indianola resident Gene Buttrey, 61, sounded as if he actually agreed with Campion’s sentiment on the longstanding power struggle within American politics. “It’s been happening for over a century. It’s all about the rich wanting to stay rich and in power,” said Buttrey, capturing a common distrust among the crowd toward the political elite.
A few steps away, Grace Pullman, a sophomore student at Simpson College leaning toward Trump, found herself unsettled by the protest’s intensity. “I’ve never seen anything like this before,” she said, reflecting the surprise and confusion shared by many of her peers. Her thoughts on climate change, not a primary concern for her or her friends, were a sharp contrast to the protestors.
Yet Trump’s position on climate change and fossil fuels is clear.
Steve Milloy, a former Trump transition adviser who has repeatedly engaged in industry-backed attacks on climate science, is quoted in Politico saying “the approach is to go back to all-out fossil fuel production and sit on the EPA.”
“When I left, we were No. 1 in a lot. Now, they’re dismantling all that. They want to go all electric,” Trump said in a November campaign speech in Houston, promising to revive the American oil industry.
“I’m proud to say that under my leadership the United States became the No. 1 producer of oil and gas by far. Not just a little bit,” Trump said. “We became a net energy exporter for the first time in the history of our country … but don’t worry we’re going to get it back fast. We’re going to get it back fast.”
Likewise, many Trump supporters at the rally said they felt climate change is being used as a tool to exact political leverage to maintain power. Meanwhile, Trump has recently been endorsed by Bruce Rattester, a wealthy Iowa businessman developing the largest CO2 pipeline in the nation.
Nearby, Petrino Ippolito, 28, a first-time caucus-goer whose political allegiance had shifted from undecided to Trump supporter, offered a different perspective. The office administrator at a local insurance company viewed the protest with a hint of cynicism. “I remember, I used to think exactly like them.”
His skepticism was not just about the protest but extended to global politics. “I get why the media sensationalizes this stuff … aren’t we all [climate criminals]?” Ippolito’s musings touched on a common suspicion among some rally attendees —a belief that climate activism might sometimes be manipulated by larger, unseen forces.
“I wouldn’t be surprised if some big oil companies are behind this, making the climate movement look like a farce, paying these people to make climate activists look foolish,” he added.
The Sunrise Movement, a youth-driven organization, actively challenges the political status quo on climate change. Starting as a reaction to the lack of significant political response to climate crisis warnings, the group has grown into a national movement. They focus on mobilizing young people across racial and class lines, with an emphasis on electing officials supportive of the Green New Deal at various levels of government. Known for bold stunts, the group continuously made national headlines disrupting rallies throughout Iowa, notably even being tackled off the stage Florida Gov. Ron DeSantis stood on during an event at Jethro’s Barbecue in Ames.
The protests and reaction to them highlight Iowa’s unique political landscape.
Often perceived as a “flyover state,” Iowa commands national attention every four years during the caucuses. This political spotlight transforms the 3 million-population state, giving a voice to those who might otherwise feel overlooked in the national dialogue. It’s during these times Iowans suddenly find themselves at the center of political discourse. This sense of empowerment, deeply ingrained in the state’s identity, resonates with Iowans of all backgrounds, giving them a crucial role in the democratic process.
It’s why Des Moines high school student Hannah Hayes, 17, an active member of the Sunrise Movement, kept up with the day’s events through social media and news. Her engagement from afar on Sunday was a reminder of how local events can have far-reaching impacts, influencing and mobilizing young people across the state and beyond.
“People in the room weren’t happy with our actions but we are looking to speak to those outside the room. Those who care about climate, to show these people (Trump, DeSantis, Nikki Haley) aren’t options for our country,” she said firmly in a phone interview, her commitment unwavering despite her physical absence from the rally. “We have to hold people accountable for the fossil fuel money they are taking. They are working for special interests,” she continued.
On the other side, attendees like Pullman and Ippolito left the rally with mixed feelings, their views reflective of the complexities inherent in the nation’s political and environmental debates. Pullman’s reluctance to prioritize climate change and Ippolito’s evolving political beliefs illustrate the diverse and sometimes conflicting viewpoints within the Republican base. It’s a complexity mirrored in the broader caucus results.
In the shadow of these nuanced sentiments, Trump’s historic 30-point caucus victory affirmed his hold over the party’s base. Despite the evolving perspectives and internal debates within the GOP, his supporters, braving life-threatening cold and perilous roads, turned out in force, delivering a record-breaking win.
Phil Gray, a lifelong Iowan with palpable concerns for the country, said President Biden has to go.
“This country is headed down a tube in the wrong direction,” said Gray, his determined gaze fixed on a future he hopes to change.
It was clear: nothing would keep these supporters from casting their votes on Monday night. Jacob Fuller, an Indianola resident and soon-to-be grandfather, captured the essence of caucus night — a blend of civic sincerity and unshakeable resolve, undeterred by winter’s chill.
“They want change,” he said. “This is not cold.”