The quiet grief of watching war from metro Detroit

Abbas Alawieh's grandmother is 91. Her home in Lebanon was just destroyed by the Israeli military. She has been displaced before. When Abbas was 15, he sheltered in a basement in South Lebanon while American-made bombs shook the walls. Now he watches from Dearborn as it happens again. He is far from alone. Families across metro Detroit with roots in Lebanon, Gaza, Iran, and across the Middle East are living with the same weight — war unfolding in the places they come from, grief carried in living rooms and group chats and middle-of-the-night phone calls, most of it invisible to the broader public. Abbas, a candidate for Michigan's Senate, has a microphone. Most of his neighbors do not. The Metro's Robyn Vincent talks with him about what that responsibility feels like, the fractures inside the Arab American community, and what goes unheard when a community grieves in silence.

About one month ago, Israel and America struck Iran. Now, Israel has enmeshed itself in more violence. In Iran, about 1500 people have been killed. Over 1,000 people have been killed in Lebanon. Settler violence against Palestinians has been ratcheted up in the West Bank. And, in Israel, as of one week ago, a dozen Israelis had been killed from Iranian air strikes. Israel says it is attacking the Iranian regime and Hezbollah in Lebanon to remove existential threats from the region. In the midst of all this, a man drove a truck into Temple Israel in West Bloomfield. The attacker then killed himself after engaging security on site. How are metro Detroit Jews processing this moment? And, what do conversations about domestic and foreign politics look like at this time? Aaron Bergman is a rabbi at Adat Shalom, a synagogue in Farmington Hills. He spoke about all this with producer Sam Corey.

Due to a polarized legislature, a major vehicle for policy change has been ballot initiatives. Cannabis legalization, the end of gerrymandering, and the expansion of reproductive freedoms all were passed by ballot initiative over the last 8 years. And that leaves a pressing question: Why have so many ballot initiatives from the left failed to make it to the ballot this year?  Already, the initiative for ranked choice voting, an effort to tax rich people to fund Michigan schools, and a campaign to create one minimum wage for Michiganders all failed to make it on the 2026 ballot. Why? And, what does this say about the state of liberals and the Democratic Party in Michigan? Colin Jackson is a Capitol reporter for the Michigan Public Radio Network. He spoke about this with The Metro's Robyn Vincent.

The Detroit mayor's first budget promises new spending on youth, seniors, homelessness, and transit — while the city works with $34 million less in revenue. Detroit Documenters are attending all 47 budget hearings. Noah Kincade, who coordinates the Documenters program, joins Robyn Vincent to break down what department heads are promising, what council members are pushing back on, and what nobody's talking about.

Cases of younger people getting cancer — folks under the age of 50 — have been growing. Someone born in 1990 is now four times more likely to get rectal cancer, and two times more likely to get colon cancer than someone born in 1950. Why? And, what is it like to be a doctor in metro Detroit fielding these cases? Dr. Thomas Kelly is a gastroenterologist at the Karmanos Cancer Institute. He spoke with The Metro's Robyn Vincent.

Something a little different is happening at Michigan Science Center (MI-SCI)—something that blends culture, community and creativity in a way you don’t see every day. "House of Harlōw 011: The Quantum Rave" is taking over, turning a space that’s usually about inspiring curiosity in science, technology, engineering, and math, into a dance floor.  The show is for all ages and is a pay what you can event. It's built around the idea of giving people a space to decompress through music and movement. What does it look like when a science institution opens its doors to a cultural movement like this? DJ With Love, Harlow and MI-SCI's managing Director of Engagement Melanie Depcinski, join The Metro to talk about the upcoming event.

The safety study behind Roundup was ghostwritten by the company that sold it. Harvard's Naomi Oreskes helped get it retracted. Then the president signed an executive order protecting the weedkiller and shielding its makers from lawsuits. Oreskes returns to The Metro to break it all down with host Robyn Vincent.

The preservation of history doesn’t belong only to institutions, it lives in the hands, voices and memories of everyday people.  In Detroit, a new generation of community historians is stepping forward. The Black Bottom Archives' Preserving Black Legacy Fellowship builds living records of Detroit’s footprint. Through oral histories, archival research, and creative storytelling, fellows archive the stories of their neighborhoods in a year-long program. All of the fellows' work will culminate in a public exhibit and a festival in 2026 celebrating Black Detroit history. Lex Draper Garcia Bey is Director of Community Engagement and Programs for Black Bottom Archives.  We begin the conversation talking about "From the Bottom, Up," an exhibition by Black Bottom Archives on display at the Detroit Historical Society. It's guided by the principle of Sankofa: “go back and get it.”  The closing ceremony is April 5 at the museum. 

In 2020, Detroit DJ and producer Carl Craig was tapped by the Dia Art Foundation in New York City to construct Party/Afterparty—a deeply personal sound and light exhibition that captured the euphoria of the club environment and the loneliness after parties ended. Now, Carl Craig is mixing it up as the Arts Power Up artist in residence at Michigan State University. Craig is working with a nuclear physics lab called the Facility for Rare Isotope Beams (FRIB) to help explain what they do through an art installation so people like you and me can experience it. Carl Craig joined the show to explain his approach and why he has taken on these art projects.

Federal lawyers who argue deportation cases for Immigration and Customs Enforcement have leased office space in Southfield. The building's owner says the lease prohibits law enforcement or detention on the premises. The neighbors say that misses the point. What started with six people in a living room has brought together dozens of residents, elected officials, and faith leaders — all demanding the lease be canceled. At the center of it is Lauren Fink, a Jewish mother who grew up haunted by the bystanders of the Holocaust and is determined not to become one. She spoke with The Metro's Robyn Vincent about the moral weight of silence, the machinery behind deportation, and what it really means to show up for the people next door.