Mycobacterium tuberculosis is a near-perfect predator. In 1882, Robert Koch, the physician who discovered the microbe, told a room full of scientists that it caused one in seven of all deaths. In 2023, after a brief hiatus, tuberculosis regained from COVID its status as the world’s deadliest infectious disease—a title it has held for most of what we know of human history.

Some people die of TB when their lungs collapse or fill with fluid. For others, scarring leaves so little healthy lung tissue that breathing becomes impossible. Or the infection spreads to the brain or the spinal column, or they suffer a sudden, uncontrollable hemorrhage. Lack of appetite and extreme abdominal pain can fuel weight loss so severe that it whittles away muscle and bone. This is why TB was widely known as “consumption” until the 20th century—it seemed to be a disease that consumed the very body, shrinking and shriveling it. On a trip to Sierra Leone in 2019, I met a boy named Henry Reider, whose mix of shyness and enthusiasm for connection reminded me of my own son. I thought he was perhaps 9 years old. His doctors later told me that he was in fact 17, his body stunted by a combination of malnutrition and tuberculosis.

The cure for TB—roughly half a year on antibiotics—has existed since the 1950s, and works for most patients. Yet, in the decades since, more than 100 million people have died of tuberculosis because the drugs are not widely available in many parts of the world. The most proximate cause of contemporary tuberculosis deaths is not M. tuberculosis, but Homo sapiens. Now, as the Trump administration decimates foreign-aid programs, the U.S. is both making survival less likely for people with TB and risking the disease becoming far more treatment-resistant. After decades of improvement, we could return to something more like the world before the cure.

[Read: The danger of ignoring tuberculosis]

Anyone can get tuberculosis—in fact, a quarter of all humans living now, including an estimated 13 million Americans, have been infected with the bacterium, which spreads through coughs, sneezes, and breaths. Most will only ever have a latent form of the infection, in which infection-fighting white blood cells envelop the bacteria so it cannot wreak havoc on the body. But in 5 to 10 percent of infections, the immune system can’t produce enough white blood cells to surround the invader. M. tuberculosis explodes outward, and active disease begins.

Certain triggers make the disease more likely to go from latent to active, including air pollution and an immune system weakened by malnutrition, stress, or diabetes. The disease spreads especially well along the trails that poverty has blazed for it: in crowded living and working conditions such as slums and poorly ventilated factories. Left untreated, most people who develop active TB will die of the disease.

In the early 1980s, physicians and activists in Africa and Asia began sounding the alarm about an explosion of young patients dying within weeks of being infected instead of years. Hours after entering the hospital, they were choking to death on their own blood. In 1985, physicians in Zaire and Zambia noted high rates of active tuberculosis among patients who had the emerging disease now known as HIV/AIDS. TB surged globally, including in the U.S. Deaths skyrocketed. From 1985 to 2005, roughly as many people died of tuberculosis as in World War I, and many of them also had HIV. In 2000, nearly a third of the 2.3 million people who died of tuberculosis were co-infected with HIV.

[Read: Tragedy would unfold if Trump cancels Bush’s AIDS program]

By the mid-1990s, antiretroviral cocktails made HIV a treatable and survivable disease in rich communities. While a person is taking these medications, their viral levels generally become so low as to be undetectable and untransmittable; if a person with HIV becomes sick with tuberculosis, the drugs increase their odds of survival dramatically. But rich countries largely refused to spend money on HIV and TB meds in low- and middle-income countries. They cited many reasons, including that patients couldn’t be trusted to take their medication on time, and that resources would be better spent on prevention and control. In 2001, the head of the U.S. Agency for International Development had this to say when explaining to Congress why many Africans would not benefit from access to HIV medications: “People do not know what watches and clocks are. They do not use Western means for telling time. They use the sun. These drugs have to be administered during a certain sequence of time during the day and when you say take it at 10:00, people will say, ‘What do you mean by 10:00?’” A 2007 review of 58 studies on patient habits found that Africans were more likely to adhere to HIV treatment regimens than North Americans.

In the mid-2000s, programs such as PEPFAR and the Global Fund finally began distributing antiretroviral therapy to millions of people living with HIV in poor countries. PEPFAR, a U.S.-funded initiative, was especially successful, saving more than 25 million lives and preventing 7 million children from being born with HIV. These projects lowered deaths and infections while also strengthening health-care systems, allowing low-income countries to better respond to diseases as varied as malaria and diabetes. Millions of lives have been saved—and tuberculosis deaths among those living with HIV have declined dramatically in the decades since.

Still, tuberculosis is great at exploiting any advantage that humans hand it. During the coronavirus pandemic, disruptions to supply chains and TB-prevention programs led to an uptick in infections worldwide. Last year, the U.S. logged more cases of tuberculosis than it has in any year since the CDC began keeping count in the 1950s. Two people died. But in some ways, at the beginning of this year, the fight against tuberculosis had never looked more promising. High-quality vaccine candidates were in late-stage trials. In December, the World Health Organization made its first endorsement of a TB diagnostic test, and global health workers readied to deploy it.

[Read: America can’t just unpause USAID]

Now that progress is on the verge of being erased. Since Donald Trump has taken office, his administration has dismantled USAID, massively eliminating foreign-aid funding and programs. According to The New York Times, hundreds of thousands of sick patients have seen their access to medication and testing suddenly cut off. A memo released by a USAID official earlier this month estimated that cases of multidrug-resistant tuberculosis will rise by about 30 percent in the next few years, an unprecedented regression in the history of humankind’s fight against the disease. (The official was subsequently placed on administrative leave.) Research on tuberculosis tests and treatments has been terminated. Although the secretary of state and Elon Musk have assured the public that the new administration’s actions have not disrupted the distribution of life-saving medicine, that just isn’t true. A colleague in central Africa sent me a picture of TB drugs that the U.S. has already paid for sitting unused in a warehouse because of stop-work orders. (Neither the State Department nor DOGE employees responded to requests for comment.)

Last year, roughly half of all international donor funding for tuberculosis treatment came from the U.S. Now many programs are disappearing. In a recent survey on the impact of lost funding in 31 countries, one in four organizations providing TB care reported they have shut down entirely. About half have stopped screening for new cases of tuberculosis. The average untreated case of active tuberculosis will spread the infection to 10 to 15 people a year. Without treatment, or even a diagnosis, hundreds of thousands more people will die—and each of those deaths will be needless.

By revoking money from global-health efforts, the U.S. has created the conditions for the health of people around the world to deteriorate, which will give tuberculosis even more opportunities to kill. HIV clinics in many countries have started rationing pills as drug supplies run dangerously low, raising the specter of co-infection. Like HIV, insufficient nutrition weakens the immune system. It is the leading risk factor for tuberculosis. An estimated 1 million children with severe acute malnutrition will lose access to treatment because of the USAID cuts, and refugee camps across the world are slashing already meager food rations.

For billions of people, TB is already a nightmare disease, both because the bacterium is unusually powerful and because world leaders have done a poor job of distributing cures. And yet, to the extent that one hears about TB at all in the rich world, it’s usually in the context of a looming crisis: Given enough time, a strain of tuberculosis may evolve that is resistant to all available antibiotics, a superbug that is perhaps even more aggressive and deadly than previous iterations of the disease.

[Read: Resistance to the antibiotic of last resort is silently spreading]

The Trump administration’s current policies are making such a future more plausible. Even pausing TB treatment for a couple of weeks can give the bacterium a chance to evolve resistance. The world is ill-prepared to respond to drug-resistant TB, because we have shockingly few treatments for the world’s deadliest infectious disease. Between 1963 and 2012, scientists approved no new drugs to treat tuberculosis. Doing so stopped being profitable once the disease ceased to be a crisis in rich countries. Many strains of tuberculosis are already resistant to the 60-year-old drugs that are still the first line of treatment for nearly all TB patients. If a person is unlucky enough to have drug-resistant TB, the next step is costly testing to determine if their body can withstand harsh, alternative treatments. The United States helped pay for those tests in many countries, which means that now fewer people with drug-resistant TB are being diagnosed or treated. Instead, they are almost certainly getting sicker and spreading the infection.

Drug-resistant TB is harder to cure in individual patients, and so the aid freeze will directly lead to many deaths. But giving the bacteria so many new opportunities to develop drug resistance is also a threat to all of humanity. We now risk the emergence of TB strains that can’t be cured with our existing tools. The millennia-long history of humans’ fight against TB has seen many vicious cycles. I fear we are watching the dawn of another.

This article has been adapted from John Green’s forthcoming book, Everything Is Tuberculosis.

President Donald Trump’s shift on the Department of Government Efficiency began with a warning from an unlikely source.

Jesse Watters, a co-host of the Fox News hit show The Five, is usually a slick deliverer of MAGA talking points. But on February 19, Watters told a surprisingly emotional story about a friend working at the Pentagon who was poised to lose his job as part of the Trump administration’s sweeping cuts to the federal workforce. “I finally found one person I knew who got DOGE’d, and it hit me in the heart,” said Watters, who urged his Fox colleagues to “be a little bit less callous.”

Although Watters soon resumed championing DOGE, the moment went viral. Trump watched the clip and asked advisers if it was resonating with his base of supporters, according to one of three White House officials I spoke with for this story (they requested anonymity so they could discuss private conversations).

Over the ensuing weeks, the president grew unhappy with the television coverage of cuts affecting his voters, according to two of those officials, while the White House fielded calls from Cabinet members and Republican lawmakers frustrated by Elon Musk, the billionaire tech mogul empowered to slash the federal government. Some of Trump’s top advisers became worried about the political fallout from DOGE’s sweeping cuts, especially after seeing scenes of angry constituents yelling at GOP members of Congress in town halls.

[Read: Hungary joins the DOGE efforts]

All of this culminated in Trump taking his first steps to rein in Musk’s powers yesterday. The president called a closed-door meeting with Cabinet members and Musk, one that devolved into sharp exchanges between the DOGE head and several agency leaders. Afterward, Trump declared that his Cabinet would now “go first” in deciding whom in their departments to keep or fire.

DOGE lives. Trump has made clear that Musk still wields significant authority. And those close to Trump say that the president is still enamored with the idea of employing the world’s richest man, and still largely approves of the work that DOGE is doing to gut the federal bureaucracy. Some in the White House also believe that clarifying Musk’s purview might help the administration in a series of lawsuits alleging that Musk is illegally empowered.

But Trump’s first public effort to put a leash on Musk appears to mark the end of DOGE’s opening chapter, and a potential early turning point in Trump’s new administration.

Many in the GOP have reveled in the brash way that Musk and his young team of engineers have strode into government agencies, seized the computers, and slashed jobs and budgets. And few Republicans have been willing to publicly challenge Musk, who has taken on hero status with many on the right and wields an unfathomable fortune with which he can punish his political foes. But important figures within the president’s orbit—including some senior staffers and outside advisers—now quietly hope that the cuts, as Trump himself posted on social media yesterday, will be done with a “‘scalpel’ rather than the ‘hatchet.’”

“I don’t want to see a big cut where a lot of good people are cut,” Trump said to reporters in the Oval Office after yesterday’s meeting. But, he added, “Elon and the group are going to be watching them, and if they can cut, it’s better. And if they don’t cut, then Elon will do the cutting.”

Six weeks into Trump’s term, the White House has declined to say how many people have left the federal government so far, or how many more it wants to see fired as it looks to reshape the government’s civil service of 2.3 million workers. Democrats, shaking off their despondency after November’s elections, have rallied against Musk, trying to save agencies such as USAID and warning that all Americans, no matter their political party, would feel the impact of DOGE cuts to agencies such as the Federal Aviation Administration, the IRS, and the Department of Agriculture. Musk paid them no heed, trashing Democrats’ objections to his more than 219 million followers on X and wielding an actual chain saw onstage at a conservative conference last month. Days later, he directed that an email be sent to the entire federal workforce asking workers to justify their employment by listing their accomplishments of the past week.

That was the breaking point for several Cabinet members. Secretary of Defense Pete Hegseth, Secretary of State Marco Rubio, and FBI Director Kash Patel were among the officials who voiced complaints to their staff and to the White House that Musk was usurping their authority, one of the White House officials told me. Their agencies, along with many others, instructed employees not to reply to Musk’s email, and the government’s main personnel agency later said that responding was voluntary, neutering DOGE’s threats. Trump’s Cabinet officials broadly agree with DOGE’s mission—to reduce waste, fraud, and abuse in government—but object to the seemingly haphazard way it is being executed.

[Juliette Kayyem: Is DOGE sure it wants to fire these people?]

That pushback from inside the administration was combined with rising public anger about the cuts that exploded at several lawmakers’ town halls in recent weeks. From Georgia to Kansas, Republicans took sharp criticism about the cuts, including from some in the crowds who described themselves as Trump voters and veterans. The National Republican Congressional Committee told lawmakers this week to postpone holding any further town halls. The anger reverberated to Capitol Hill this week, with several Republicans privately urging DOGE to slow down.

Majority Leader John Thune said on CNN on Tuesday that Cabinet secretaries should retain the full power to hire and fire, a belief he later reiterated privately to White House Chief of Staff Susie Wiles, according to one of the White House officials who was briefed on the call. This person told me that in recent weeks, Wiles has also relayed to Trump other GOP lawmakers’ concerns about Musk, including that the constant drip of stories about DOGE slashing key jobs is distracting from their political messaging on issues such as immigration and taxes.

Musk was invited to a Senate lunch on Wednesday, a meal that took place just hours after the Supreme Court delivered a significant blow to the Trump administration in one of several ongoing legal fights over spending cuts. In the meeting, lawmakers later told reporters, several senators urged Musk to better coordinate with Congress by giving them more visibility into his process. They also offered to make the cuts permanent by enshrining them in legislation.

Senator Lindsey Graham told reporters afterward that the “the system needs to be fine-tuned to coordinate between DOGE and Congress and the administration,” and that Musk needs to be better about addressing senators’ concerns. Musk, in the lunch, distanced himself from some of the more unpopular firings. Hours later, he had a similar meeting with House Republicans, some of whom voiced unhappiness with that day’s news reports about plans to fire 80,000 Veterans Affairs workers, thousands of whom are veterans themselves, in a move that would likely delay vital services to those who have served the country in uniform.

Trump also grew angry at those reports, snapping at aides that he did not want to be seen as someone who betrayed veterans, many of whom he believes voted for him, an outside adviser who spoke with the president told me. That, when combined with the complaints from his advisers and worries that Musk was beginning to drag down his own poll numbers, prompted him to call for the meeting with the DOGE leader and the Cabinet heads at the White House yesterday.

The meeting soon grew volatile, according to an official present, with Rubio snapping back at Musk when the billionaire accused him of not moving fast enough with his firings. Musk and Transportation Secretary Sean Duffy also clashed over the quality of air-traffic controllers, while Doug Collins, who runs the Department of Veterans Affairs, urged that any layoffs be done more carefully. Trump agreed. Details of the meeting were first reported today by The New York Times. In addition to announcing that the Cabinet secretaries would be in charge of firings, Trump said that similar meetings would be held every two weeks.

“Everyone is working as one team to help President Trump deliver on his promise to make our government more efficient,” White House Press Secretary Karoline Leavitt told me in a statement when I asked if Musk’s role is shrinking.

Tammy Bruce, a spokesperson for the State Department, said in a statement: “Secretary Rubio considered the meeting an open and productive discussion with a dynamic team that is united in achieving the same goal: making America great again.” The Departments of Defense and Transportation, the FBI, and the VA, as well as DOGE, did not immediately respond to requests for comment.

Musk later wrote on X that the meeting was “very productive.” Yet for some in MAGA’s populist wing, the moment was perceived as a humiliation for the billionaire. They rallied around efforts to protect the Pentagon and the authority of Hegseth, a popular figure on the right. A cartoon of Trump walking Musk like a dog on a leash was passed around on the Hill and in right-wing-media circles. Some predicted that Trump would soon jettison his billionaire completely.

[Read: The Trump voters who are losing patience]

The White House insists that Musk’s work will continue. The Office of Personnel Management outlined plans this week for a new wave of firings, offering guidance to cut entire teams and job categories. Most of those fired so far have been probationary employees, who are typically new hires with fewer job protections.

Democrats, who see Musk as a potent political target for their party, have downplayed the significance of Musk’s seeming demotion.

“I don’t think anything has fundamentally changed.” Representative Adam Smith, the ranking member of the Armed Services Committee, told me. “It’s not about government efficiency and effectiveness. It’s about crippling the federal workforce because he sees it as a threat to him instead of a service provider to the country.”

In an effort to ward off other court challenges, the administration has also tried to stress that Musk, who is a special government employee, is not technically running the U.S. DOGE Service; instead, the White House said last month, DOGE is administered by Amy Gleason, a former health-care executive who worked for the agency in a previous iteration.

The claim was undermined, however, by Trump’s own words: When he spoke before Congress on Tuesday night, he repeatedly referred to Musk as the head of DOGE.

Hours before Trump’s call with Putin, we spoke to an apprehensive Volodymyr Zelensky

Hours before Trump’s call with Putin, we spoke to an apprehensive Volodymyr Zelensky

On the night of October 8, 2017, a small fire ignited near the northern tip of Napa Valley. Hot, dry winds gusting up to 80 miles an hour drove the blaze southwest toward the city of Santa Rosa, where it hopped over Highway 101––six lanes wide at that point––into neighborhoods, including one called Coffey Park. Nearly everything in that subdivision, including 1,422 houses, burned completely.

Yet today, a casual visitor would not think the neighborhood was the site of a recent catastrophe, instead finding custom homes with tidy yards, clean sidewalks, and trees that have matured into juveniles. That’s because Coffey Park residents rebuilt and reoccupied 80 percent of the houses there within three years. The recovery wasn’t total. Five Coffey Park residents died in the fire. Some people decided to relocate. A few lots remain empty. But the community has endured, and in many ways is thriving, or so several residents told me after I knocked on their doors last month, looking for lessons that could be useful for people displaced by the recent Los Angeles–area fires in Pacific Palisades and Altadena.

What do you know now, I asked dozens of residents, that you wish you had known when you lost your house? I also asked local officials for their reflections on how to rebuild.

Santa Rosa, with roughly 175,800 residents, is far smaller than Los Angeles (population 3.8 million), let alone L.A. County (population 9.7 million), with many attendant differences in how the local government runs. And the number of structures destroyed in the Palisades and Altadena fires combined is nearly three times what Santa Rosa lost in 2017. But like Pacific Palisades and Altadena, Santa Rosa lost whole neighborhoods that no one expected to be consumed by wildfire, including Coffey Park.

[M. Nolan Gray: How well-intentioned policies fueled L.A.’s fires]

Santa Rosa officials emphasized to me that, in their experience, recovery requires local government to be flexible. But perhaps the most important transferable lesson that I gathered on my visit there, one touted by both residents and officials, is that neighbors can hasten their area’s recovery if they organize. Banding together helped Coffey Park residents in conflicts and negotiations with federal, state, and local officials. And it didn’t just yield more political power. It helped neighbors benefit from one another’s strengths, compensate for their own weaknesses, and create a stronger sense of community than before.

At 9:45 p.m. on the night the fire started, Von Radke was upstairs in the two-story house in Coffey Park where he and his wife had lived for more than 25 years. He’d undergone hip-replacement surgery two weeks prior and was turning in early. He recalls the wind blowing mightily as he drifted off to sleep. Hours later, he woke up and smelled smoke, but, groggy from painkillers, he at first dismissed it. Eventually he woke his wife, Jan, and hobbled downstairs. When he looked out a window, he saw embers in the air and 40-foot-tall Italian cypress trees bending 45 degrees in the wind.

It was past time to flee. But just backing out of the driveway took five minutes. The whole neighborhood was trying to evacuate. Traffic stopped for 20 minutes or more. Von saw people trying to fight fires with garden hoses, and more and more houses aflame. He and Jan might need to flee on foot, he thought, knowing how hopeless that would be in his condition. “For the first time in my life, I thought I was going to die,” he recalled. Finally traffic started to move.

Like many others who saw the fire up close, Radke went on to suffer “a significant amount of PTSD,” he told me. When we spoke in the front yard of his rebuilt home, a small two-story house surrounded by a well-tended garden, he focused on the psychological needs of the survivors. In the months after the fire, while they were still scattered in various hotel rooms and rentals, some of his neighbors began convening to talk through their escape experiences, their struggles, and how to rebuild. The best-known gathering came to be called Wine Wednesdays; it still occasionally takes place. To work through his own experience, Radke said he found a therapist who donated his services to fire survivors.

“It’s psychologically challenging to let people help you––to go to the local school and pick through donations of hand-me-down clothing to get you through those first weeks––but it’s important to learn a bit of humility,” Radke said, “because people want to help and you need help.”

Once the fire was out, Coffey Park residents were eager to return to their properties, and confused and frustrated by not knowing when they would be allowed in. Jeff Okrepkie, who’d lived in the neighborhood for five years, craved reliable information, and had more ways of getting it than most: As a commercial-insurance agent, he had colleagues who dealt with homeowner’s insurance and contacts with developers and contractors.

What we need, he thought, is a forum where residents can gather to ask questions and get accurate answers from knowledgeable sources. He called a friend at a nearby junior college who agreed to donate use of its auditorium, and spread the word about a community meeting. Officials from the city, builders, and insurance experts were all on hand. “I thought I had done my good deed,” he told me. “Then people started asking me, ‘When is the next meeting?’”

[Read: What the fires revealed about Los Angeles culture]

With Sonoma County Supervisor James Gore, Okrepkie organized a bigger town hall, drawing hundreds of attendees to an arts center. At that gathering, Coffey Park residents divided themselves into five groups based on their addresses, and each group nominated a captain to represent them. Weekly meetings followed, and soon Okrepkie founded Coffey Strong, a nonprofit to help residents get back into their homes as quickly and easily as possible. “Organizing in that way helped us continue to share information, but more importantly, it legitimized us in the eyes of government agencies,” he said. “If they were contacted by Coffey Strong, it wasn’t one person calling; it was one person who represented thousands.”

The group began to solve problems no one had anticipated. When the neighborhood had been built, the developer had constructed walls around its edges that residents assumed belonged to the city but were in fact the responsibility of homeowners. Had residents known that earlier, they would have had the damaged walls hauled away during the free debris removal offered to them as part of disaster-relief efforts. Now they faced having to pay thousands of dollars for the walls’ removal, and still more to replace them piecemeal. Coffey Strong raised $500,000 for the project and persuaded contractors to donate labor.

After many of the initial hurdles to rebuilding had been cleared, the U.S. Postal Service told residents that instead of having mailboxes at their houses, as before, they’d now have centralized mailboxes, a proposal that many of them strongly rejected. “When your neighborhood burns down, it’s a total loss of control, and for a lot of people, rebuilding your home, which involves making a lot of choices, restores a sense of control,” Okrepkie said. “So when someone from the federal government comes and tells you, We’re doing this in a way that’s worse than what you had, and you have no control, it upsets people a lot.” Under pressure from Coffey Strong, as well as allies in the city, the Postal Service reversed course.

While Coffey Park residents were organizing, city staffers in Santa Rosa had to figure out how to support people affected by the fire citywide. Initially, the new demands were almost overwhelming: First responders were exhausted; municipal structures and infrastructure had been destroyed in the fire; city officials had to coordinate with Sonoma County, the state of California, FEMA, and more. Thousands of residents were displaced, all wanted information, and meanwhile, normal city business wore on.

Gabe Osburn was a municipal employee working in a role unrelated to fire recovery who lived in a house just beyond where the fire had reached. Feeling survivor’s remorse, he expressed interest to his boss in helping with the recovery. Osburn started attending community meetings for fire victims as a representative of the city and soon was assigned to advance fire recovery full-time on behalf of the planning department; he would be among the primary city employees working with residents to rebuild, and ultimately attended more than 300 meetings with fire victims, he told me. The goal, Osburn said, was not just to restore the 5 percent of the city’s housing stock that had been lost. “It was important for us to keep the fire victims here,” he said. “They were the fabric of our community.”

A metal heart at a park in the Coffey Park neighborhood commemorates the 2017 fire in Santa Rosa, California.

Early on, Osburn feared that the area’s small construction industry would be unable to supply enough contractors, laborers, and materials to rebuild affordably. As it turned out, free markets and assistance from flexible regulators was a powerful combination. Builders responded to the new demand for construction. And the city offered steep discounts on building permits, created a permitting center dedicated to fire recovery, and worked with surveyors to go through the areas most affected by the fire instead of requiring each resident to pay their own surveyor to clarify property lines. If residents wanted to change the footprint of their house, city planners worked with them. There were limits to what the city would allow, but multiple residents told me that the staff tried to get to yes, rather than insisting on strict adherence to the rules as they’d existed before the fire.

Walking around Coffey Park, I met some of the beneficiaries of that government flexibility. Julio Alvarez told me that he and his wife had been underinsured. A discount on permits enabled them to rebuild. And the ability to change their floor plan from two stories to one has helped the couple as they get older.

Rod Julianus was at first determined to rebuild his house exactly as it was. Then he thought better of it: The house had been filled with furniture that his late grandfather had made in a factory in Holland and given to his parents upon their marriage. He realized that if he rebuilt the same house with the same floor plan, he would spend the rest of his life looking at the spots where that furniture had been. Switching floor plans made his psychological recovery easier. He advises anyone planning to rebuild to consider if changes might help them, too.

Will Los Angeles be as good a municipal partner to its fire-affected residents as Santa Rosa was? L.A. officials have already started waiving some building requirements, and the city certainly has more resources than Santa Rosa. But I’ve heard horror stories from both homeowners and businesses about the city’s endlessly complex rules, so I fear that, because its bureaucracy is so big and difficult to navigate, it could fail the fire victims. (Pacific Palisades is part of the city of Los Angeles, while Altadena is an unincorporated community in L.A. County and will be subject to county building rules and agencies.)

[Nancy Walecki: The place where I grew up is gone]

Can residents of Altadena and Pacific Palisades improve their recovery by organizing themselves? There, I am more hopeful. Like any neighborhood, even a suburban one where the homes are mostly of similar size and value, Coffey Park is filled with people of all sorts. Knocking on its doors, I encountered friendly invitations to come inside and gruff suspicions that I was soliciting. I met professionals with contacts in industries as varied as home construction and therapy, canny people you’d want negotiating a lawsuit on your behalf, and warmhearted sorts you’d want commiserating with you after the loss of a wedding ring or a pet. As individuals, everyone in the neighborhood lacked something important that recovery required. Collectively, they had the qualities and connections they needed.

Santa Rosans have gotten used to sharing their knowledge with other communities that suffer from fires. Some of the advice they relayed to me was practical and time-sensitive. Remember to cancel your cable bill or home alarm system or land line so you don’t continue to be charged. Walk your lot with a metal detector before the rubble is hauled off. And start looking for and vetting contractors now––everyone who rebuilds will need one. When you find one, have a lawyer look at the contract. Before submitting a list of lost objects to your insurer, walk through a home-goods store to jog your memory of forgotten items. Residents also recommended resources including After the Fire, an organization that helps communities recover from wildfires, and United Policyholders, a nonprofit that helps insurance consumers.

Jeff Okrepkie now sits on the city council, and Gabe Osburn is the head of planning; both have shared what they’ve learned with officials and residents of Los Angeles, Maui (the site of the 2023 Lahaina fire), and beyond. As for Coffey Strong, the nonprofit is now inactive, having succeeded in its core mission: getting residents home. The group’s website remains online as a resource. Among its attestations: “Nobody can or should shoulder all of this alone.”

He did not receive a single vote. He did not get confirmed. He does not receive a government paycheck.

The world’s richest man has declared war on the federal government and, in a matter of days, has moved to slash its size and reach, while gaining access to some of its most sensitive secrets. He has shaped the public discourse by wielding the powerful social-media site he controls and has threatened to use his fortune to bankroll electoral challenges to anyone who opposes him.

Elon Musk’s influence appears unchecked, triggering cries of alarm from those who worry about conflicts of interest, security clearances, and a broad, ill-defined mandate. But the Republican-controlled Congress has shown no desire so far to rein Musk in. There has never been a private citizen like him.

“I think Elon is doing a good job. He’s a big cost-cutter,” Donald Trump told reporters last night after stepping off Air Force One returning to Washington from Palm Beach. “Sometimes we won’t agree with it and we’ll not go where he wants to go. But I think he’s doing a great job. He’s a smart guy. Very smart. And he’s very much into cutting the budget of our federal budget.”

Musk’s assault on the government unfolded rapidly in recent days, as he used his role as the head of the so-called Department of Government Efficiency (DOGE) to slash spending. His stated goal: cut $500 billion in annual spending. DOGE has limited powers. It is not an actual government agency—one can only be created by an act of Congress; Musk’s task force was set up through a presidential executive order. And Congress has the authority to set spending.

[Read: Elon Musk has appointed himself king of the world]

His own role remains murky: A White House official told me today that Musk is working for Trump as a “special government employee,” formalizing a position in the administration but allowing him to sidestep federal disclosure rules. Musk is not being paid, the official said.

Musk lacks legal authority, but he is close to power. At times working from the White House campus, Musk plainly enjoys his position as the president’s most influential adviser. Trump famously turns on aides he believes eclipse him. But by his own account, he remains enamored of Musk, seeming to relish the fact that the world’s wealthiest person is working for him, the White House official told me, speaking on the condition of anonymity to relay private conversations. Trump, the official said, also believes that Musk has shown a willingness to take public pushback for controversial actions, allowing the president himself to avoid blame.

Over the weekend, Musk set his sights on the U.S. Agency for International Development, declaring in a series of tweets, without evidence, that USAID is “a criminal organization” that is “evil” and “must die.” The Trump administration, adopting a transactional, “America First” view of global engagement, has subjected the agency—the world’s largest provider of food assistance—to aid freezes, personnel purges, and mass confusion. Musk in recent days became the would-be executioner. In an X Spaces live chat early this morning, he said he had discussed USAID’s future with Trump “in detail, and he agreed that we should shut it down.”

“And so we’re shutting it down,” Musk said.

Hours later, Secretary of State Marco Rubio announced that he was assuming the role of acting director of the agency, which he said the White House wants to fold into the State Department. USAID’s proponents have long seen it as a useful tool of American soft power that acted as a bulwark against China and Russia; its apparent demise was cheered by former Russian President Dmitry Medvedev, who wrote on X that Musk was making a “smart move” to “plug USAID’s Deep Throat. Let’s hope notorious Deep State doesn’t swallow him whole.”

Musk might not succeed in kneecapping the agency. Several Democrats denounced the plan to move it to the State Department, arguing that Congress established USAID as a separate agency and that moving or closing it would take a subsequent act of Congress. But Republicans on the Hill were muted, seemingly willing to sacrifice their power as a co-equal branch of government to appease Musk and Trump.

[Read: What Elon Musk really wants]

GOP lawmakers also do not seem to object to Musk’s installation of former staffers from Tesla, X, and the Boring Company at several agencies, including the Office of Personnel Management, which essentially handles federal human resources, and the General Services Administration, which manages government real estate. Some of Musk’s lead aides, according to Wired, are between 19 and 24 years old. (When a user on X later posted the names of those aides, Musk replied, “You have committed a crime,” and suspended the account.)

Over the weekend, Treasury Secretary Scott Bessent granted DOGE staffers access to the system that sends out money on behalf of the entire federal government, ceding to Musk—whose wealth is estimated at more than $325 billion—a powerful tool to monitor and potentially limit federal spending. That move ended a standoff with a top Treasury official, a career civil servant named David Lebryk, who was put on leave and then suddenly retired after he had tried to prevent Musk’s lieutenants from getting into the department’s payment system.

“The only way to stop fraud and waste of taxpayer money is to follow the payment flows and pause suspicious transactions for review. Obviously,” Musk posted today on X. “Naturally, this causes those who have been aiding, abetting and receiving fraudulent payments very upset. Too bad.”

The department, in a process run by civil servants, disbursed more than $5 trillion in fiscal year 2023. Access to the payment system is tightly held because it includes sensitive personal information about the millions of Americans who receive Social Security checks, tax refunds, and other payments from the federal government. Moreover, two of Musk’s companies—Tesla and SpaceX—have more than $15 billion in government contracts, and according to some Democrats, he might now have access to information about competitor businesses, creating conflicts of interest. Musk also has business interests overseas, including in China.

A group of Senate and House Democrats has vowed a court battle over Musk’s access to the payment system. “Elon Musk, you may have illegally seized power over the financial payments systems of the Treasury, but you don’t control the money of the American people,” Democratic Representative Jamie Raskin of Maryland said at a news conference today outside of USAID headquarters in Washington. “The U.S. Congress does that under Article 1 of the Constitution. We don’t have a fourth branch of government called ‘Elon Musk.’”

[Read: Purging the government could backfire spectacularly]

But this morning Ed Martin, the interim U.S. attorney for Washington, D.C., released a letter he wrote to Musk declaring that his office would “pursue any and all legal action against anyone” who tried to impede DOGE’s work.

Last week, Musk was the driving force behind an email from the Office of Personnel Management with the subject line “Fork in the Road,” demanding that millions of federal employees accept massive workplace changes or resign. The White House official told me that Musk came up with the email subject line, which was also the language he used in an email to Twitter employees shortly after he purchased the company in 2022.

After taking over Twitter and rebranding it as X, Musk demolished the company’s value and sparked a mass exodus of users. But it gave him a powerful political platform—which he is also now using to try to influence European elections—and there are signs that business is improving. The site brought in $25 million in political advertising revenue in 2024, mostly from Republicans, and The Wall Street Journal reported last week that Amazon—owned by Jeff Bezos, who also owns the dominant newspaper in the nation’s capital—was increasing its spending on X.

Last week, the only news story that competed with Trump’s takeover of the nation’s capital was the collision between a military aircraft and a civilian jet that killed 67 people. The National Transportation Safety Board took the lead on the investigation, as it always does. But as the nation looked for news on the devastating tragedy, the first major airline crash in the United States in 15 years, the government agency made clear where the American people would need to turn: “All NTSB updates about news conferences or other investigative information will be posted to this X account. We will not be distributing information via email.”

Hours earlier, President Trump had announced 25% tariffs on all Colombian goods.

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This week, House Republicans created a select subcommittee to investigate the January 6, 2021, attack on the Capitol and uncover the “full truth that is owed to the American people,” Speaker Mike Johnson said. Presumably this is a “truth” that somehow fell outside the frames of the thousands of videos taken that day that showed rioters storming the building and beating police officers with whatever weapons were at hand. Despite January 6 being an extraordinarily well-documented crime, many Republicans seem intent on whitewashing what many federal judges, jurors, and really any average American citizen can see with their own eyes.

In the past year, I’ve gotten to know many J6ers well. My partner, Lauren Ober, and I made the podcast We Live Here Now. The thing they had all been waiting for are the pardons that President Donald Trump delivered as promised “on day one.” Trump kept his promise. Hours after being sworn in, he gave clemency to more than 1,500 people convicted of involvement at the Capitol that day. Among them were some longtime militia leaders who carefully planned the riot. Now they’re free. For some, this is order restored; for so many other Americans, this is lawless abandon. And not everyone is reacting to the pardons the way you might expect.

The following is a transcript of the episode:

Marie Johnatakis: Hello?

Hanna Rosin: Hey, this is actually Hanna Rosin. I’m calling on my son’s phone for various reasons.

Johnatakis: Hanna! How are you?

Rosin: You sound happy.

Johnatakis: I am. I just got done bawling.

Rosin: Bawling. As in crying. Hard.

Johnatakis:  I think everything just came out. I was just holding it in for the last how many years?

Rosin: That was Marie Johnatakis, whose husband, Taylor, was just pardoned by President Donald Trump. He’d been sentenced to over seven years for what he did at the Capitol on January 6. Now he’s coming home.

This is Radio Atlantic. I’m Hanna Rosin.

A few hours into his second term, Trump pardoned more than 1,500 people charged in connection with the attack on the Capitol on January 6, 2021. Some had been charged with serious felonies, like assaulting police officers and seditious conspiracy. Others were charged with misdemeanors, like trespassing and disorderly conduct.

I’ve gotten to know a lot of January 6ers over the last couple of years, so I know how these prosecutions have upended their lives. And I know that for a lot of them, the pardons have restored their sense of justice. For them, this week feels like the world is set right again.

And as I checked in with them this week, and hung out outside the D.C. jail, mostly I just saw the chasm more clearly: how one person’s order restored is another person’s lawless abandon.

Johnatakis: I know this is going to sound crazy, but I have just really felt like Trump will do what he says he’s gonna do. And so, ever since that, I was like, “Well, if Taylor gets pardoned, it will be the first day.”

Rosin: Three weeks ago, when her world was still in chaos, Marie Johnatakis bought a one-way ticket home for Taylor. Trump had mentioned that he might pardon all the January 6ers, but you could never be sure. Politicians don’t usually do what they say, her daughter told her. And for a family whose only working parent had been in jail for more than a year, an airline ticket is a luxury.

But Marie had watched the video over and over of Trump telling an NBC reporter that he would pardon the J6ers on day one of taking office.

Donald Trump: We’re gonna look at everything. We’re gonna look at individual cases—

Kristen Welker: Everyone?

Trump: Yeah.

Welker: Okay.

Trump: But I’m going to be acting very quickly.

Welker: Within your first 100 days? First day?

Trump: First day.

Welker: First day?

Trump: Yeah. I’m looking first day.

Welker: You’ll issue these pardons.

Rosin: And then on day one, the world flipped.

Man: First we have a list of pardons and commutations relating to the events that occurred on January 6, 2021.

Trump: Okay. And how many people is this?

Man: I think this order will apply to approximately 1,500 people, sir.

Trump: So this is January 6. And these are the hostages, approximately 1,500 for a pardon. Full pardon.

Rosin: On Monday night, just before midnight, Marie finally picked Taylor up from prison, and she sent me a picture. They sat side by side, smiling, like a late Christmas-card photo. Marie hasn’t sat side by side with her husband since he was taken into custody just before Christmas 2023.

I asked her if she thought his transition home would be rocky, and she said no—it’llbe seamless. Taylor has written each of their five children a letter a week from prison, and he sometimes reads them books over the phone. In her mind, family harmony will be quickly restored, and so will the rightness of all things.

Johnatakis: I mean, this started with January 6, four years ago, and we were the scum of the Earth. We were domestic terrorists. We were people that you were supposed to be afraid of. Every time Trump had anything with criminal charges or anything like that, he has really been our hope for anything that would ever mean a pardon for us. And so a lot of us feel like it was one miracle after another.

And people don’t look to Trump—people in the movement on the chats that I’m on and stuff like that don’t look to him like a savior. But I think a lot of the people—almost everyone has faith, like a faith in God, a faith in Jesus. And I do hear a lot of like, for us, it’s a miracle.

Rosin: There is a whole other way that these pardons could have rolled out.

A little more than a week before inauguration, Vice President J. D. Vance made it clear to Fox News that he wasn’t expecting blanket pardons.

J. D. Vance: If you committed violence on that day, obviously you shouldn’t be pardoned. And there’s a little bit of a gray area there, but we’re very much committed to seeing the equal administration of law.

Rosin: During the transition, I spoke with Republican lawyers who imagined there might be some kind of review board, like maybe a Justice Department committee that would evaluate cases such as Taylor’s.

Taylor was not among the several hundred convicted solely of misdemeanors, such as trespassing or disorderly conduct. But also, he was not among the small handful convicted of seditious conspiracy. His assault charge hung on the fact that he was yelling into his bullhorn, urging a crowd to push a barricade into a row of cops. All captured on video.

Taylor Johnatakis: One foot! One, two, three, go!

Rosin: And under the J. D. Vance scenario, there would have been qualified lawyers debating in a room about degrees of “assault” and what length of sentence they merit. But instead, Trump chose to go with a blanket pardon, which sounds uncomplicated but actually brings maximum chaos.

Tuesday night, I was walking down my own street past a house that I know well. It’s a kind of safe house for January 6ers. Micki Witthoeft lives there. She’s the mother of Ashli Babbitt, who was killed at the Capitol that day. So does Nicole Reffitt, whose husband, Guy, was sentenced to over seven years for bringing a gun to the Capitol. Occasionally, a young January 6er named Brandon Fellows stays there too.

My partner, Lauren Ober, and I got to know the people in that house last year when we made an Atlantic podcast about it called We Live Here Now. I’ve walked by their house hundreds of times. But when I walked the dogs past the house on Tuesday in freezing weather, I saw Brandon outside, wearing an ICE jacket—as in Immigration and Customs Enforcement. This is his version of a sartorial troll.

Rosin: So what’s going on? I guess I don’t even know the basics of what’s going on.

Fellows: Last I heard was from Jen. We were at lunch with Stewart Rhodes—breakfast with Stewart Rhodes today.

Rosin: He’s here?

Fellows: Yes. But we’ve all been up, and he’s taking a nap real quick. So we just got back, but—

Rosin: Is he staying here?

Rosin: I froze—and not from the cold. Stewart Rhodes, the guy with the eye patch, who founded the Oathkeepers. He for years recruited and cultivated an armed militia to resist government tyranny. His estranged ex-wife recently said she fears that she and their kids are on his quote “kill list.” Rhodes’s attorneys have said that the idea that his family’s in danger is unfounded.

Before Trump’s commutation he was serving an 18-year sentence for seditious conspiracy, one of the longest of all the January 6ers. Now Stewart Rhodes was taking a nap down the block from my house.

[Music]

More on that after the break.

[Break]

Rosin: While Rhodes was napping in her house, Nicole Reffitt, was outside, being interviewed by a Dutch news crew. Her family is notorious, because her son, Jackson, turned in his father to the FBI. Someone adapted the trial transcript into an excellent play called Fatherland. Anyway, this week her husband, Guy, was about to get out of prison. But unlike Marie Johnatakis, she seemed unsettled about the pardons.

Rosin:  How do you guys feel about the blanket pardon?

Reffitt: You know, I was never a fan of that. I guess he thought it was the quickest way—pull the Band-Aid off. I was more in favor of commutations and then let’s look at everything, because not only did people do bad things that day, but there were some charges that were absolutely wielded like a weapon against people. And those things also need to be looked at because, you know, I don’t want anyone to have to go through this. And that’s my biggest concern.

Rosin: What do you mean “concern”? Like, I don’t know how to think about the blanket pardon either, Nicole. I’m trying to think what’s the difference between this and if it had gone a different way—what does it mean that it’s a blanket? Have you guys talked about that?

Reffitt: Well, because now all charges are gone.

Rosin: Yeah.

Reffitt: You know, and, uh, I’m a law-and-order gal, really. And so not all charges should be gone there. People did really bad things that day.

Rosin: In many people’s minds, Nicole’s husband, Guy, was one of the people who did really bad things that day, and he did get a fair sentence. Guy brought a gun to the Capitol, although he didn’t enter the building or use it.

Reffitt: Yeah, I never expected him not to have something, you know, like, I figured he’d be charged with something, because it was so significant, but it was just so over-the-top to me, all of the charges and that has always been my biggest issue.

[Crowd chanting]

Rosin: As of Wednesday only eight of the 22 people held at the D.C. jail had been released. But outside the jail had turned into a gathering place for people released from all over the country. Camera crews stood around from Sweden, Japan, Norway broadcasting interviews with the newly freed. And when Bob Marley’s “Redemption Song” came on the speakers, the crowd belted it out together.

[Sound of “Redemption Song” by Bob Marley]

Rosin: On Tuesday night, I caught a glimpse of Stewart Rhodes at the edge of the crowd. He’s hard to miss, with the eye patch. He was giving an interview to a right-wing YouTuber.

Stewart Rhodes: It’s a day of celebration. I mean, yesterday it was too. When President Trump was inaugurated, it was awesome. You know, like he said himself, you know, God saved him to save America, and I believe that’s true. And then he turned around and saved us last night, I mean, and restored us to our freedom. I mean, I’m not 100 percent restored yet. I’m still waiting for a pardon, but it’s so, so wonderful to be out, be out of these bars.

Rosin: That’s Rhodes’s one big complaint—that he’d been given a commutation instead of a pardon. A commutation can erase a sentence, but it does not restore all your rights, such as the right to buy guns. He told the interviewer he was applying for a pardon. He said, “ I think everyone deserves a pardon, without any exception.”

Rhodes: No one got a fair trial. It’s impossible to get a fair trial here if you’re a Trump supporter. And so you don’t have an unbiased jury, an impartial jury; you don’t have an impartial judge; you don’t have a jury that’s going to hold the government to its standard beyond reasonable doubt.

It’s not going to happen. So if you have no chance of a fair trial, then you should be presumed innocent. That’s put back in your natural state, which is an innocent and free human being.

Rosin: So that’s Rhodes’s version of history. They were sham trials. It was actually a day of peace. It’s a revision of history that Trump and his allies are likely to try to push and push for the next four years. House Speaker Mike Johnson has already formed a select subcommittee on January 6, to quote “continue our efforts to uncover the full truth that is owed to the American people”

But for a whole crew of other people involved in January 6, these pardons represent a reversal of justice.

January 6 did not require delicate forensics. It has to be one of the most well-documented crimes in modern history. There are tens of thousands of hours of video showing rioters beating up police with whatever tools are at hand.

At least five people died for reasons that are in some way related to the insurrection. Some 140 police officers were injured, and many could never work again. On Wednesday, retired officer Michael Fanone had choice words for Rhodes that he expressed live on CNN.

Michael Fanone: This is what I would say to Stewart Rhodes: Go f— yourself. You’re a liar.

Anchor: We didn’t obviously to beep that word out …

Rosin: Fanone said he’s worried for his safety and that of his family.

The judge who sentenced Taylor Johnatakis, Judge Royce Lamberth, wrote a letter in connection with the sentencing. He wrote: “Political violence rots republics. Therefore, January 6 must not become a precedent for further violence against political opponents or governmental institutions.” Lamberth is 81. His wife died a few months ago. He had a handful of new January 6 cases on his docket, but of course they’ve disappeared. In that sentencing letter, he continued, “This is not normal.”

We tried to reach him to talk about the pardons, by the way, but he wasn’t ready to talk about them yet.

 Reffitt: My husband’s being processed out of Oklahoma right now. Can’t wait to see that man. He will be here in D.C. tomorrow. And you know what? We’re getting freedom, baby! That’s right. We’re getting freedom! We are getting freedom. And that’s absolutely right.

Rosin: At the Tuesday-night rally, Nicole got a call from Guy. He was out. On the road. Headed towards the airport.

Reffitt: He’s in the car. He’s in a car! In a car!

Rosin: Stewart Rhodes told the crowd that he was headed back to California this week. As for Marie and Taylor, they fly home on Thursday. Marie told me the kids are gonna make dinner.

[Music]

Rosin: This episode of Radio Atlantic was produced by Jinae West and Kevin Townsend and edited by Claudine Ebeid. It was engineered by Rob Smierciak and fact-checked by Stef Hayes. Claudine Ebeid is the executive producer of Atlantic audio, and Andrea Valdez is our managing editor.

I’m Hanna Rosin. Thanks for listening.