“After a long illness, the world as we know it has passed away,” a European friend recently said. A slightly premature obituary, perhaps, but not by much. The world has changed in fundamental ways, of which the Trump administration is both symptom and cause. There is no greater evidence than its emerging policy of imposing a cease-fire, which it incorrectly believes will bring peace, on Ukraine.

To a degree surprising for those who think of the Trump administration as a mere composite of malice, nihilism, and chaos, its Ukraine policy seems orchestrated, with three big pieces dropping yesterday alone.

The first was a speech from Secretary of Defense Peter Hegseth at the 50-nation meeting of the Ukraine-defense-support group. Uncharacteristically, perhaps, his words deserve careful parsing, particularly because they have caused spasms of despair—some justified, most not—among supporters of Ukraine.

[Read: The day the Ukraine War ended]

He began by uttering the uncomfortable truth that it is unrealistic to expect a return to Ukraine’s 2014 borders. That is unfortunate but ineluctable, given the balance on the battlefield and the unwillingness of both the Biden administration and the current one to pour in the military resources that would give Ukraine a chance of defeating Russia. Unfair, tragically unnecessary, but true.

Hegseth ruled out NATO membership for Ukraine as part of a negotiated settlement—also unfair, but also inevitable. Ascension to NATO membership is a long process, and in any case, Russia’s surrogates in NATO—Hungary and now Slovakia—would almost certainly block Ukraine. Hegseth’s statement matters less than many suppose, however, because a new administration could just as easily reverse this policy.

The peace deal—which he insisted would be brokered by the United States but not, apparently, with Europeans as part of the negotiation—would have to be guaranteed by “European and non-European” military forces in Ukraine; U.S. forces, he emphasized, would not be stationed there. Left unsaid was whether, say, American combat aircraft and missiles might be permanently based in neighboring countries.

In one of the more interesting sections, he said:

To further enable effective diplomacy and drive down energy prices that fund the Russian war machine, President Trump is unleashing American energy production and encouraging other nations to do the same. Lower energy prices coupled with more effective enforcement of energy sanctions will help bring Russia to the table.

To European ears, it was probably blotted out by what came soon after:

Safeguarding European security must be an imperative for European members of NATO. As part of this, Europe must provide the overwhelming share of future lethal and nonlethal aid to Ukraine.

Not unreasonable, although, in fact, Europe has provided almost as much military aid to Ukraine as has the United States, and more humanitarian aid.

This was not a speech about abandoning Europe or, for that matter, Ukraine. Rather, Hegseth insisted that the United States has to focus on securing its own border and meeting the challenge posed by “Communist China”:

Our transatlantic alliance has endured for decades. And we fully expect that it will be sustained for generations to come. But this won’t just happen.

It will require our European allies to step into the arena and take ownership of conventional security on the continent.

The United States remains committed to the NATO alliance and to the defense partnership with Europe. Full stop.

The bottom line is that the administration will broker, and possibly coerce, a deal that is bad for Ukraine: a cease-fire along current lines, the deployment of European and other forces, and no chance of NATO membership in the near future. There was, however, talk of economic pressure on Russia, of security arrangements for Ukraine, and of an American interest in seeing the war end permanently. What was not mentioned, however, is also important. There was no talk of regime change in Ukraine or of limiting Ukraine’s armed forces and their development. There was no talk of abandoning or fundamentally restructuring NATO and the European security system. All of these contradict Vladimir Putin’s stated war aims.

None of this will assuage the fears of those who believe that Donald Trump is eager to sell Ukraine to Russia, bend to Putin’s every whim, and destroy NATO. But that view disregards some important evidence.

[Charles A. Kupchan: Trump is right that Pax Americana is over]

The second big piece of the Trump peace initiative was the president’s statement—a blurt rather than a formal release—on Truth Social declaring that he had had a long conversation with Putin and that they would at some point meet with each other. Reading it, one is reminded, once again, that Trump is a politician who is cunning but semiliterate and ignorant. The statement, unfortunately, assumes a commonality of interests and experiences that simply does not exist between Russia and the United States.

In a meeting, one has to expect that Putin, a former KGB case officer, will be far better at manipulating the vain and erratic Trump than the other way around. Moreover, when Trump said that he was just about to call Volodymyr Zelensky to brief him on the conversation, he revealed that he had already violated what should be a cardinal principle: no attempt to make a deal on Ukraine without Ukraine. His mistake is dangerous, possibly disastrously so. That said, however, it is clear from other statements (including Hegseth’s) that Trump believes that he is the one with economic leverage (true), that the war is stupid (true), and that Russia is in substantial difficulty (true).

The third initiative—curiously missed by much of the American press—was the first visit of a Cabinet-level official to Kyiv. Treasury Secretary Scott Bessent presented a deal, the outlines of which are unclear, to give the United States access to Ukrainian minerals, and the Ukrainian government, unsurprisingly, responded positively. Crass and unworthy, no doubt, but a good thing. The United States has strong interests in securing a supply of rare earths from a friendly, aligned country rather than from China. If a deal goes ahead, the U.S. will have large security as well as economic interests in an independent Ukraine. And the mood music was good: “By increasing our economic commitment through a partnership with the government and people of Ukraine, that will provide—once this conflict is over—it will provide a long-term security shield for all Ukrainians,” Bessent said.

There were always two possible Trump Ukraine policies: the bad and the catastrophic. At the moment, this seems bad—but not yet catastrophic. A peace deal that leaves Ukraine with 80 percent of its territory and its independence, economic stability, and military potential unimpaired, and that stations European troops inside its territory while giving the U.S. a large economic interest in its future, is an acceptable if unfortunate and avoidable outcome.

Responsibility for this war arriving at a bad outcome rests with the Trump administration, which is nakedly transactional and, worse, either does not understand or does not care that this war is about a Russian bid to restore its imperial status. But others are to blame as well.

The Biden administration warned of the war but botched the provision of aid to Ukraine. It held back the quality and quantity of weapons needed for victory, decided to have no strategy for success other than “standing by Ukraine,” and inexcusably failed to explain to the American people why this war was, and is, central to American security interests. The Biden administration set the conditions for the current situation.

[From the March 2025 issue: Europe’s Elon Musk problem]

The other players responsible for this situation are America’s European allies. Not all of them, to be sure—the Nordic and Baltic states and Poland have stepped up, as Hegseth openly acknowledged. For more than a generation now, American leaders have insisted to Europe as a whole that Americans will not indefinitely bear the burden of Europe’s security. By and large, their European counterparts have smiled politely and ignored them. No wonder then, that the secretary of defense said:

The blunt reality is that there will be dwindling appetite and patience in the U.S. Congress—and in the American body politic writ large—to expend increasingly precious funds on behalf of nations that are apparently unwilling to devote the necessary resources or make the necessary changes to be serious and capable partners in their own defense—nations apparently willing and eager for American taxpayers to assume the growing security burden left by reductions in European defense budgets.

Indeed, if current trends in the decline of European defense capabilities are not halted and reversed, future U.S. political leaders … may not consider the return on America’s investment in NATO worth the cost.

Pete Hegseth? No, Robert Gates—who served as secretary of defense more than 14 years ago in the Obama administration—diagnosing the illness that has brought about this crisis. The good news, such as it is, is that the patient needed, and may yet respond to, the blunt truths about its condition that Secretary Hegseth expressed. Sometimes shock therapy, however inexpertly administered, can be part of the cure.

The Trump administration’s attempt to eliminate USAID is many things: an unfolding humanitarian nightmare, a rollback of American soft power, the thin end of a wedge meant to reorder the Constitution. But upon closer examination, it is also an outbreak of delusional paranoia that has spread from Elon Musk throughout the Republican Party’s rank and file.

Several days ago, the administration began promoting the theory that USAID was secretly directing a communist conspiracy of unknown dimensions. Musk, who is running point on Donald Trump’s efforts to unmask and destroy this internal conspiracy, claimed on X, “USAID was a viper’s nest of radical-left marxists who hate America.” Trump, adopting an uncharacteristic tone of more-in-sadness-than-in-anger, told reporters in the Oval Office: “I love the concept, but they turned out to be radical-left lunatics.”

Soon Musk declared that he had uncovered explosive evidence for this belief: The agency had funneled $8 million to Politico. Why exactly the Marxist plotters at USAID would select Politico as the vehicle for their scheme—its owner, the German media giant Axel Springer, has right-of-center politics with a strong pro-Israel tilt—has not been fully explained. But Musk’s discovery soon rocketed across X, the social-media platform he owns and uses promiscuously, and became official government policy.

“LOOKS LIKE BILLIONS OF DOLLARS HAVE BEEN STOLLEN AT USAID, AND OTHER AGENCIES, MUCH OF IT GOING TO THE FAKE NEWS MEDIA AS A ‘PAYOFF’ FOR CREATING GOOD STORIES ABOUT THE DEMOCRATS,” Trump wrote on his own social-media site, Truth Social. “THE LEFT WING ‘RAG,’ KNOWN AS ‘POLITICO,’ SEEMS TO HAVE RECEIVED $8,000,000 … THIS COULD BE THE BIGGEST SCANDAL OF THEM ALL, PERHAPS THE BIGGEST IN HISTORY!”

[Jonathan Lemire: Elon Musk is president]

In fact, USAID has not given millions to Politico. The agency subscribed to E&E News by Politico, a premium service that provides detailed, fairly boring, and decidedly noncommunist coverage of energy and environmental policy. Most of Politico’s paying subscribers, according to its editors, work in the private sector. Many of them are lobbyists, who are also, as a rule, unreceptive to communist ideology, and who pay for comprehensive coverage of the inner workings of Congress and the federal bureaucracy, which holds little interest for a general audience.

Government officials themselves also subscribe to Politico and other paywalled news sources. This is because, far from masterminding intricate conspiracies, public employees are often just trying to figure out what’s happening using the same information sources available to the public. Thus USAID spent $24,000 on E&E subscriptions for its staff in 2024, and $20,000 the year before. The $8 million figure encompasses Politico subscriptions across the entire executive branch. Musk has been conspiratorially describing these subscriptions as “contracts,” as if the government is paying Politico for something other than articles about the government.

If USAID is a secret left-wing plot, leftists themselves have not been let in on the secret. Actual Marxists despise USAID, which they consider a tool of American imperialism. Jacobin, a self-consciously radical-socialist journal, has spent years railing against the agency for “stealthily advancing the interests of the Salvadoran corporate class,” working to “augment center-right parties throughout much of the Global South,” and even having the effrontery to fund a rock band that criticized Hugo Chávez, among other nefarious capitalistic schemes.

Some leftists have noticed the Trump administration’s efforts to eliminate the hated agency, and they’re not angry. The journalist Ryan Grim, who has decidedly left-wing views on foreign policy, has optimistically asked whether Trump’s crusade against USAID indicates a desire “to unwind and reorient American empire.”

The left-wing critique of USAID is considerably more grounded in reality than Musk’s is. Although the agency carries out humanitarian works, those programs have a dual purpose of advancing American soft power and resisting propaganda from hostile countries—originally from the Soviet bloc, and today from China. Not long ago, USAID’s strongest advocates included some of the most anti-communist (and thus conservative) members of Congress. As recently as 2022, Republican Senator Joni Ernst of Iowa, who now praises Trump’s crackdown on the agency, was calling for it to boost staffing in order to more efficiently disburse humanitarian aid to Ukraine.

[Russell Berman: Trump’s assault on USAID makes Project 2025 look like child’s play]

The process by which Musk came to his conclusions does not inspire great confidence. His expertise lies mostly outside public policy. He arrived in Washington, D.C., and quickly set out to prove that he could identify at least $1 trillion in annual waste and fraud, a figure wildly out of scale with the conclusions of every serious expert. He claims to be working 120 hours a week, yet is posting on X at a manic pace, sending more than 3,000 tweets a month, at all hours of the night. Musk has acknowledged that he has a prescription for ketamine, a drug that can cause unpredictable behavior if abused. Last year, The Wall Street Journal reported that people close to Musk worry that his recreational drug use—including “LSD, cocaine, ecstasy and psychedelic mushrooms,” according to the article—was driving his erratic behavior and could adversely affect his businesses. (His attorney accused the Journal of printing “false facts,” and told the paper that Musk is “regularly and randomly drug tested at SpaceX and has never failed a test.”)

It is entirely possible that Musk genuinely thinks he has stumbled upon a vast conspiracy, rather than an anodyne plan to give public employees access to a rather staid news source. Every response he has made to outside criticism tracks the most typical paranoid thought process. He believes that politicians criticize him because they, too, are collecting “kickbacks and bribes.” He has accordingly interpreted all opposition to his moves as just more proof that he is onto something big.

The ultimate conspiracy that Musk thinks he has uncovered goes far beyond even USAID. On Wednesday, Musk reposted an X post claiming that “all the elections are rigged and fake, all the liberal media outlets have no audience and are kept alive by USAID funding. All their politicians and political pundits are paid by USAID to say what the government wants.” Musk’s commentary: “Yes.”

Any well-functioning political party would laugh off such claims as kookery. Musk, however, has attained a unique place of power because of his simultaneous position as Trump’s proxy and the owner of a powerful communications platform. X is teeming with accounts repeating and amplifying Musk’s firehose of nonsense, spinning it into a grand narrative in which Musk has heroically exposed a left-wing, taxpayer-funded cabal that has orchestrated various disasters behind the scenes.

What remains of the conservative establishment has mostly defaulted to applying a sheen of rationality to Musk’s paranoid fantasy. “Mr. Musk sometimes blows hot air, and he needs to be watched to stay within legal guardrails,” a Wall Street Journal editorial gently scolded. “But he’s also hitting targets that have long deserved scrutiny and reform, which helps explain the wailing over the U.S. Agency for International Development.”

[Hana Kiros: America can’t just unpause USAID]

“The tofu-eating wokerati at the USAID are screaming like they’re part of a prison riot, because they don’t want us reviewing the spending,” Republican Senator John Kennedy told Fox News’s Sean Hannity. “But that’s all Mr. Musk is doing. And he’s finding some pretty interesting stuff.”

The result is that Musk’s most fervent devotees can believe that he has broken open a globalist plot responsible for stealing elections and manufacturing consent for the liberal agenda, while more responsible figures can pretend he’s doing nothing more than auditing funds for waste. This is the same justification process that enabled Trump’s insurrection after the 2020 election: The true believers said Trump had uncovered massive voter fraud, while the Republicans who knew better claimed he just wanted to use his legal right to count the votes and make sure the result was legit.

The Republican establishment may now be calculating that the smart move is to go along with Trump’s and Musk’s delusions. Just cancel some government-agency news subscriptions, maybe zero out a few spending programs, and wait for the howling mob to move on to new obsessions. But if the Republican Party’s leaders have proved anything over the past decade, it’s that the paranoid demagogues they think they can control are usually controlling them.

I      Maps
The corner of Ashmun & Grove & the sometimes
When the only evidence is a map; the disappearing

English of old: plat, a funky word that exists most
In memory, meant to make a plan or map of;
To draw to scale; to plot.

A man who cannot read coordinates can still plot
On his freedom. Imagine a rectangle on the oldest
Map in these nine squares of geography

Once called a wilderness.

         Quinnipiac           Pequot           Paugussett

To plot freedom is to leave the words that matter
Written across everything you own that matters,
As in leave the names that your loves call you
All the places that you traverse.

As in, to name is to announce worthy of remembrance.


II     Property
Some evidence of  this life is always measured
By the weight of  La Llorona’s weeping.

Jethro Jethro Jethro Jethro Jethro
Jethro Jethro Jethro owed his name. Left
This world owed his name. Who enters heaven
Owed their name? Who enters nameless?

        Historical Catalogue of  the Members of  the First Church of
        Christ in New Haven, Connecticut, A.D. 1639–1914
        Compiled by Franklin Bowditch Dexter

                         CATALOGUE OF MEMBERS, 1726–28

May 15.    875.  Patience Mix (John) Alling                      *May, 1786
                          Daughter of Caleb and Mary (494); born March, 1699;                                  wife of 1052.
                 876.  Mary Atwater (Isaac) Dickerman             *17—
                          Daughter of 421 and 338; born Dec., 1686; wife of 605.
                 877.  Experience Perkins (David) Gilbert          *May, 1748
                          Daughter of  David and Deliverance (354); born Dec., 1699;
                          wife of 1111.
                 878.  Jethro Luke (colored)                               *1760–61

Franklin knew his name enough to count
Him more than 3/5ths,

To list his surname & call him colored,
To be counted & named, the fourth member
Whose lineage included a slave ship.
The first non-European with a surname listed,

From an old English variant that sounds like luck,
Or happenstance, which in the land of cotton is a variant

For the word irony, for deliverance, think Luke
Of  the Gospel, Luke the liberator, Luke as
English variant of  Lucas, Lucius, bright, light

For a plot listed in the corner of a map.

Jethro Luke was colored, cast in shadows
Of manacles—or, in the parlance
Of  Marx & Pareto: Jethro was owed,

Left owning little, beyond whatever he held
When his eyes searched the freedom of a night sky:

Brown coat … old great Coat … brown Jacket … white Jacket,
1 check shirt … black stocking … old ax … small tongs …
old gun barrel … great Bible … 8 round bottles … candle stick …
old mare … pair of  oxen … plow share

III   Freedom
Is one way to name this story.
Sometimes only maps be evidence.
In 1748, a corner mark confesses:

Jethro a Black man farmer.
Corner of Ashmun & Grove, a small city park
Cradling the Grove Street cemetery,
& all the freedom not permitted to rest there—

                 Jethro Ruth Mindwell Sampson Betty Joe
                 Jinny Mingo Sanders Sabina Sibyl
                 Phyllis Dinah Pero Sume Pompey Gad
                 Rose Rhoda Phyllis Pompey Williams Newport
                 Amasa Silva Cesar Rose Cato Leah Socoro
                 Peter Alice Little George Jack York Pressey
                 Polly Cesar Peter Simeon Joseph Bristol
                 Nando Jeff Congo Pompey Benjamin Cuff Phillis
                 Sharper Rogers Jack David Gardiner Dinah
                 Bet Alling Jack Geff Ruben Ruth Cambridge
                 Cuff Edwards Amy Belfast Fowler Primus
                 Tim Lenard Eli Harry Sue Daggett Gain Amey
                 Joe Place Jane Cesar Jin Daniel Thomas.

This poem is from Reginald Dwayne Betts’s new book, Doggerel.

Eight years ago, with his “American carnage” speech, Donald Trump delivered what was likely the darkest inaugural address in U.S. history. During his second inaugural, he tried for a slightly more uplifting message.

“I return to the presidency confident and optimistic that we are at the start of a thrilling new era of national success,” Trump said. And although he listed many challenges, he assured the nation that they would be “annihilated” by American momentum. (Yes, the word choice was strange.) “The golden age of America,” he declared, “begins right now.”

Perhaps it would be more aptly called a Gilded Age. Trump was joined in the Capitol Rotunda by many of the nation’s richest and most powerful men, including Elon Musk, Jeff Bezos, Tim Cook, and Mark Zuckerberg. The attendance of the business titans was rendered conspicuous by the small space. (Other major donors to the inauguration were forced to watch on a livestream after the ceremony was moved inside because of frigid temperatures. Don’t shed a tear for them; they made the donations to curry favor and influence, not for the view.) Their presence also added a strange dimension to Trump’s complaint that “for many years, a radical and corrupt establishment has extracted power and wealth from our citizens.”

[James Fallows: ‘American carnage’: The Trump era begins]

This was the first time since Grover Cleveland’s second inauguration, in 1885—during America’s first Gilded Age—that a president was sworn in for a nonconsecutive second term. And many of the policies and ideas in the speech evoked the late 1800s more than any recent presidency.

The speech was saturated with 19th-century imperialism. Trump announced that he would order the name of America’s highest peak to be changed from Denali back to its old name, Mount McKinley, and he extolled the 25th president’s use of tariffs. (Left unmentioned was the fact that William McKinley was beloved, and bankrolled, by the plutocrats of his era, and twice defeated the populist William Jennings Bryan.) Trump also said he would rename the Gulf of Mexico “the Gulf of America,” and he promised to “pursue our Manifest Destiny into the stars,” invoking the controversial slogan of expansionism. Picking up an idea he had voiced in recent weeks, he also vowed to seize the Panama Canal from Panama.

And why wouldn’t Trump be feeling triumphant? The ceremony was held inside the Rotunda, where a little more than four years ago, supporters who he’d instigated to storm the building paraded through with a Confederate flag. This time around, Senator Amy Klobuchar, the chair of the Inaugural Ceremony Committee, heralded America’s “peaceful transfer of power” in the same building where it was disrupted on January 6, 2021. A few minutes later, Trump stood face-to-face with Chief Justice John Roberts, who granted him broad immunity in a ruling last summer, and took the same oath of office that he flagrantly broke at the end of his first term. His mood was not only celebratory, but messianic.

[Adam Serwer: The Supreme Court puts Trump above the law]

“I was saved by God to make America great again,” he said, describing the failed assassination attempt against him last summer. “Over the last eight years I have been tested and challenged more than any other president in our 250-year history.” (Perhaps he forgot that McKinley was more than just grazed by an assassin’s bullet.)

In particular, he railed against “the vicious, violent, and unfair weaponization of the Justice Department”—a reference to the federal felony charges brought against him for attempting to subvert the 2020 election and for refusing to hand over classified documents he removed from the White House. “Never again will the power of the state be weaponized to persecute political opponents,” he said, a vow that sits uneasily with promises of retribution from himself and from his nominee to lead the FBI, Kash Patel.

Historically, presidents have used their inaugural addresses to pivot from the blue-sky promises of the campaign trail to the more sober language of governing. Rather than dwell on campaign vows they may struggle to keep, they reach for gauzy and unifying language. This, however, is not Trump’s forte. In major speeches, when Trump strains for the tone of an inspirational statesman, he usually ends up sounding more like a motivational speaker. (“In America, the impossible is what we do best,” he intoned today.) This afternoon’s often repetitive speech is unlikely to live on as a work of oratory. Nor did Trump make much effort to reach out to or reconcile with the voters who don’t support him, although he promised that “national unity is returning to America.” He boasted about his (very narrow) margin in the popular vote and victories in seven swing states. “My recent election is a mandate to completely and totally reverse a horrible betrayal and all of these many betrayals that have taken place and to give the people back their faith, their wealth, their democracy, and indeed their freedom,” he said.

[Jonathan Chait: The political logic of Trump’s international threats]

Instead, Trump delivered something akin to his stump speech: a meandering laundry list of policy promises of varying degrees of plausibility. He called for a huge expansion of oil and gas extraction. “We will drill, baby, drill,” he said. He promised to impose major tariffs. He said he would deploy U.S. troops to the Mexican border, expand immigration enforcement inside the country, and declare drug cartels foreign terrorist organizations. He also signaled an executive order that will continue the attacks on people who don’t conform to traditional gender norms. “It will henceforth be the official policy of the United States government that there are only two genders, male and female,” he said.

But much of the speech was devoted to things that are almost certainly never going to happen. He vowed to beat inflation but didn’t say how. He said he’d establish an External Revenue Service to handle the money he claimed tariffs would bring in, but this would require an act of Congress, as would the Department of Government Efficiency he claims he’ll create. (One wonders what the efficiency hawks at DOGE would have to say about the proposed ERS, given that it would represent a superfluous bureaucracy created to perform a function already handled by Customs and Border Patrol.) This was all a warm-up for Trump’s most audacious promise. “Our power will stop all wars and bring a new spirit of unity to a world that has been angry, violent, and totally unpredictable,” he said.

It was an appealing promise. But the world already knows what four years of a Trump presidency looks like. Serenity, peace, and predictability were not the hallmarks of his first term, and they are unlikely to describe the second any better.

Photographs by Alex Welsh

Michael Gollner studies fire and how it behaves at UC Berkeley’s Fire Research Lab. His research is focused on fires that spread from wildlands to urban areas––work that gives him insights into the fires ravaging Pacific Palisades, Altadena, and other areas near Los Angeles. On Friday, I interviewed him about the fires and how to rebuild the communities they’ve destroyed in a way that makes them more resilient. What follows is an edited version of our conversation.

Conor Friedersdorf: How relevant is the debate about how to manage forests––whether to thin them out, for example––to fires like the ones in greater Los Angeles that began in dry sagebrush and chaparral?

Michael Gollner: When extreme wind events occur, one variable is how much fuel is around to burn. Southern California had a lot of rain in the past couple of years, which caused a lot of plant growth, but no rain so far this winter, so that fuel was dry. We’re not talking about big trees burning in a forest. This was mostly little leaves and twigs, things less than a quarter-inch thick, so they get dry pretty quick. I’m not a fire ecologist, but in my observation of fire ecology, I think there’s still some debate on the best way to handle prescribed-burning regimes and fuel management in chaparral ecosystems. What I like to emphasize is: What happens when that fire gets to a community?

To improve protection, we’re not talking about clearing whole forests or bulldozing hills. We’re talking about just hundreds of feet out from the community. We’re talking about giving space between the fire and the community and then making it so that the only thing that can get through is embers.

Embers are little burning particles that are smoldering almost like charcoal when it is not making a flame but is red and glowing. They can loft up in the air and get carried by the wind—some firefighters reported seeing those embers lighting fires two to three miles ahead of the main flame front. You want to harden the community so that those embers are unlikely to light new fires.

[Read: The particular horror of the Los Angeles wildfires]

Friedersdorf: Even knowing that embers start new fires, a part of me can’t comprehend it: I think of struggling to light a campfire even while holding a constant open flame against firewood.

Where is my intuition going astray?

Gollner: It’s partly a matter of scale and probabilities. Any individual ember is unlikely to start a new fire. But a wildfire produces millions of embers. You can see them flying everywhere. One that catches is enough.

And you don’t see an ember land on a big flat surface, like a piece of plywood, and set it on fire. It rolls away. But where? In wind, embers tend to pile up together in one place, like between the boards of a deck, or in crevices at the base of a wall, in front of siding. They can get in nooks and crannies on the roof and pile up there, or if you have a vent, they can fly in through it and land on flammable material. A mulch pile can be a perfect cavity, where an ember or embers settle in a little one-inch area that is protected from the wind enough to smolder and ignite. That’s not something you can model at scale, but you can re-create it in a laboratory.

Alex Welsh for The Atlantic

Friedersdorf: What should homeowners understand about the science of how best to protect their homes?

Gollner: There’s never going to be 100 percent protection. But a shift in preparation can make a big difference, especially a community-wide shift. Firefighters can then have the upper hand and catch those fires that slip through the cracks. I’ve watched the videos of Pacific Palisades and elsewhere. In many places, vegetation management was not taking place. It’s hard to assign fault, because it’s a mix of private, city, county, and state property. But there was lots of brush, trees over structures, people who put juniper bushes next to their house, all in areas we’ve long known to be high-hazard. It’s devastating that it occurred in this way. We never expected it all to come together at once on any particular day. But we knew something like this could happen.

Think of having a defensible space around the home. You don’t want any material there that can catch fire and spread to your house, especially in the five feet around the base of the structure.

And then you want to harden the house against embers. Shake roofs are the absolute worst. The 1991 Tunnel Fire in Oakland Hills raced through wooden cedar-shake roofs, but those aren’t so common anymore. Now it’s flammable siding, flammable decks, open vents without mesh to protect against embers.

[Read: When the flames come for you]

And it’s tempting to think, I did my roof, I did my siding, and I did my vents. But I really love that juniper outside of my window. Well, if that juniper catches on fire, it is going to produce 15-foot-tall flames. It does not matter how strong your windows are; that’s going to shatter them and spread inside.

There is a story from a former fire chief about a house that was built mostly of glass and steel. It was super well defended against embers. Except it had an opening to an interior courtyard where they could land. An ember probably lit a planter on fire, which then probably shattered the glass and moved inside. Otherwise it would have been safe. But they had an opening that kind of let it in. You can build a whole concrete structure and then leave your window open, and it’s lost. So I don’t think the solution is to rebuild everything out of steel or concrete or mud, but rather to thoughtfully build and make sure you have the thought process of sealing the outside of your house from embers and keeping space around it free of flammable materials.

Left to right: Paint bubbles on the exterior of a home, palm trees singed by the Palisades Fire, and the remnants of a burned home in Pacific Palisades (Alex Welsh for The Atlantic)

Friedersdorf: And hope that your neighbors do the same?

Gollner: Yes. You can completely protect your house from embers, and then if you’re close to your neighbor who hasn’t done anything, and their house catches fire, those flames will be so huge, there’s just nothing you can do. You need the whole community to start making changes. If everyone’s making a lot of changes, even short of perfection, you start to see bigger impacts. Still, even if you’re the only one hardening your house, there can be benefits, depending on the fire. For example, over time, more firefighters arrive at the scene of a fire in a given area. When deciding where to focus, firefighters will probably pick houses that seem most defensible, which gives you a better chance. You want to be the house that they feel safe defending, not the house down a long drive surrounded by juniper trees where they feel unsafe.

If you and all your neighbors harden your homes, it’s harder for embers to start and spread fires, and the fire department can put out the isolated fires and save the community. But yes, once embers get into a community and set one house on fire, that fire can jump to the house of the neighbors. Fire spreads fast through vegetation, and slows down when it gets to houses. But houses burn really intensely and for a very long time. The fire dynamics completely change. You see just how much water firefighters are trying to use on house fires. Burning at that intensity, water doesn’t have much impact. So you want some space between your house and your neighbor: 30 feet is an estimate that we’re trying to refine with current experiments.

[Read: The unfightable fire]

Friedersdorf: So in Pacific Palisades, where the entire community burned, it’s unlikely that one home, having been diligently hardened, would have survived, whereas if the whole neighborhood had been hardened against fire, there might have been a different outcome?

Gollner: Right.

Friedersdorf: In communities that have largely or totally burned to the ground, and so have the opportunity to make changes at scale when rebuilding, what changes pass the cost-benefit test?

Gollner: There’s some discussion of trying to move around the footprint of where we build different things. And often that’s near-impossible because people own that land and they’re going to rebuild.

California does have fairly good fire-prevention measures and requirements in its building codes. One of the most important things is to make sure that those are enforced in rebuilding. Make sure that structures are up to code and hard to ignite, and that yards have defensible space and aren’t going to become infernos.

One hopes that if you do that at scale, you can discount some of the design aspects of building resilience into properties and landscaping, so that it’s cheaper for everyone. We’ve seen things like wooden fences spread fire. And so in the five feet next to the house, use metal or a nonflammable material or change the entire fence. There’s a lot of ways that you can make changes. And because of the wealth in Pacific Palisades, I could imagine it becoming a model for rebuilding resiliently. Hopefully this can become an area where, in a future wildfire, people evacuate and no houses burn down, or one house burns without spreading.

Alex Welsh for The Atlantic

[Read: Altadena after the fire]

Friedersdorf: I notice that whereas the public seems focused on city officials better responding to house fires once they start, you’re mostly focused on better preempting house fires from starting.

Gollner: We are never going to stop wildfires driven by extreme winds. But we can prevent large-scale disasters if we understand that almost everything you can do to avoid the worst outcomes must take place long before that first spark. It’s about the way we design our communities, the vegetation around them, the buildings and the way you prepare for the first response, so that you can very quickly identify a fire when it’s so small that a water drop from a plane can put it out, especially if the weather is favorable. Once the fire is large, it’s almost impossible to do anything.

Of course you want to answer questions, like Did the water pressure fail in Los Angeles? and Was the fire department appropriately funded? Investigations may reveal mistakes or a need for reforms.

But when assigning blame, remember, Pacific Palisades was designed 50 to 100 years ago, in a really high-fire-risk area where people built homes without consideration of wildfires. There were mistakes made, mistakes like the difficulty of evacuating, long before we fully recognized that they were going to be mistakes. We’ve allowed them to stand and failed to make commonsense changes. And everyone involved in many decades of decisions is partially responsible.

[Read: How well-intentioned policies fueled L.A.’s fires]

Friedersdorf: How do you study something as chaotic and variable as wildfires spreading into communities?

Gollner: One thing we do is modeling. There’s been a big development there: We took models of how wildfires spread through vegetation and expanded them to include how those fires spread into urban areas: how embers get into communities, how different structures burn, how fires hopscotch between homes and vegetation.

We also do experiments. We go to the Missoula Fire Lab a lot to better understand wildfires. And we go to the Insurance Institute for Business & Home Safety, where they burn tiny houses, or ADUs, in a six-story-tall wind tunnel. We measure heat fluxes. We study how far structures need to be spaced from one another. We collect the smoke to understand what’s in it. We ask questions: How do embers ignite different materials, like mulch or siding or wood? There are still a lot of aspects of how fire spreads that we could understand much better.

At least the fever came on a Friday. Or at least that’s what I, an absolute fool, thought when my nine-month-old, Evan, spiked a 102-degree temperature after I picked him up from day care recently. That meant he’d have three days to recover and would be back at day care on Monday.

When the fever rose to 104 on Saturday, my husband and I grew concerned, and when it persisted on Sunday, we took him to urgent care. They diagnosed Evan with an ear infection and prescribed antibiotics, which should take “a day or two” to work, the doctor said.

Okay, fine; we would miss a day of work. Our jobs, thank God, are flexible about such things.

Except on Tuesday, Evan still had a fever. His ear infection had not gone away, and in fact had worsened to the point that he refused to eat or drink and screamed whenever he was laid down. On Wednesday, the doctor switched him to a new antibiotic. That Friday, a mere 48 hours away, I had to go record my audiobook, in a recording session that my publisher had already booked and paid for.

[Annie Lowrey: Why I can’t put down the vacuum]

Before we had Evan, my husband, Rich, and I had discussed such exigencies using Fair Play, a popular system—in the form of a book and card game—for divvying up chores. It aims to help women in heterosexual relationships, who tend to take on more household cognitive and physical labor, offload tasks onto their partner. Rich was assigned researching backup child care, for whenever our son was inevitably sick and could not attend day care.

The thing is, Rich never did research backup child care. Before people have kids, they don’t realize that parenting is like running a complex military operation in addition to holding down your regular job. He figured we wouldn’t need backup care, and because I was tired and pregnant and swamped with millions of other tasks, I didn’t do the research for him. So here we found ourselves.

Which is why, when Rich asked me, four days into Evan’s fever, as we were syringing Tylenol into his wailing mouth at 2 a.m., “What are we gonna do?” I very reasonably responded, “I don’t know, dickhead! What the fuck are we gonna do?”

I had done what the pop-feminist chore-management gurus suggested. I had tried to reduce my mental load by foisting ownership of and accountability for tasks onto my husband. The only slight hiccup in this plan is that if your husband doesn’t do the tasks, the system falls apart.

The problem, as both Fair Play’s author, Eve Rodsky, and I, and probably lots of other women, see it, is the men. Our husbands or male partners, enlightened though they may be, don’t notice what needs to be done, or they forget to do it, or they don’t know how to do it. This requires the woman to act as project manager, reminding her husband to clean the baby’s humidifier or to grab the yogurt snacks, and so on and so forth, as long as you both shall live.

In theory, Fair Play offers a good solution. The best-selling 2019 book, and its companion card deck, lay out all the chores a family could conceivably have—everything from buying birthday gifts to doing the dishes to taking out the trash—on 100 cards, which the couple is meant to divide. Though the resulting division might not quite be 50–50, it should feel equitable. Rodsky writes that the man in the relationship should take at least 21 cards. She told me that a popular way to keep track of who has which card is through the software program Trello.

Each person is to take complete “ownership” of their card, including its “conception, planning, and execution.” The same person remembers that it’s time to clean the countertops, finds the cleaning liquid, and actually uses it.

Of course, people’s definition of “clean” varies, and many women have higher standards when it comes to tidiness and caretaking. Single, childless women tend to do more housework than single, childless men. Rodsky addresses this through something called the “minimum standard of care,” or a basic level of competence for each task that both spouses agree upon in advance. This means no cramming all the Tupperware into a Jenga tower if the MSC, as it is known, calls for it to be stacked neatly. (Left mostly unresolved is what to do if you can’t agree on a minimum standard of care, or if one partner doesn’t live up to it.) You maintain this system through regular check-ins with your spouse, at which you assess how things are going and re-deal the cards if necessary.

Sure, this may sound like romance by McKinsey—a friend of mine called these chore check-ins “deeply unsexy”—but hundreds of thousands of people have bought the book or card deck. Couples seem to really need a way to talk about household labor, and Rodsky offers one.

Rodsky, a married mother of three based in Los Angeles, worked as a lawyer and philanthropic adviser before she developed Fair Play. She got the idea, she writes, when one day after she had hustled out the door with a bag of snacks, a FedEx package, a pair of kids’ shoes to be returned, and a client contract—literally with her hands full—her husband texted her, “I’m surprised you didn’t get blueberries.” She was doing so much, but apparently she should have been doing the blueberries too.

It made her realize that despite a successful career, “I was still the she-fault parent charged with doing it all, buying the blueberries and masterminding our family’s day-to-day life while my husband … was still not much more than a ‘helper.’”

For the book, she interviewed hundreds of couples and immersed herself in research about the division of household labor. She came away with a set of facts and observations that may make you want to set your bra on fire and run off to a lesbian commune. Men hate to be nagged but, Rodsky writes, when pressed in interviews, they admit that they wait for their wife to tell them what to do around the house. Countless studies show that women do much more unpaid labor—housework and child care—than men do, even when both work outside the home. Rodsky cites a study showing that after couples who claim to be egalitarian have a baby, men cut back on the amount of housework they do by five hours a week. In part because of this disparity, working women, on average, see their incomes cut in half after having children.

You may be thinking “not all men,” but it’s an awful lot of men. Several studies show that women score higher on two facets of the conscientiousness personality trait: orderliness and dutifulness. In layman’s terms, this means women like things neater than men do, on average, and they pay more attention to the rules and structure of home life.

Explanations for this phenomenon vary. It could be that women are socialized from girlhood to be cleaner and more organized, and are judged in adulthood for having a messy home more than men are. Socialization might have contributed to my own orderliness: My parents are immigrants who, from what I can tell, have never taken a gender-studies course. When I told my mom about the Fair Play system, she said, “That’s dog nonsense. Men don’t know what to do with kids. Especially your man.”

It could be that because women bear disproportionate costs of childbearing in the form of pregnancy, birth, and in many cases breastfeeding, many feel more invested. They may pay greater attention to their children, and their various needs and proclivities, than the kids’ father does. And men tend to earn more than women, so when one person’s work has to take a hit for the kids’ sake, it’s usually the woman’s. Rodsky quotes one father as saying, “I’m so proud of how well my wife balances work with her family life.” Her family life.

I heard about Fair Play during the pandemic, and I thought it could help settle the chore wars that had been simmering between Rich and me for years already. Within a few weeks, we’d read the book, bought the cards, and scheduled a weekly check-in on our Google Calendars. It worked for a while. But after I got pregnant, I suddenly felt the need to, for example, research the difference between strollers and “travel systems,” while Rich did not. We thus found it virtually impossible to play fairly for more than a few weeks at a time. After Evan was born, it didn’t seem possible at all.

To name just a few of 10,000 examples: Rich was in charge of cleaning the floors, but he forgot to do it unless I asked. We hired a cleaning lady. He forgot to pay the cleaning lady. The cleaning lady texted me to ask about getting paid. I would task him with taking Evan to a doctor appointment (which I had made), and he would forget the diaper bag. Mentally, I willed Evan to have a huge blowout in the waiting room, just to teach him a lesson.

Perhaps these are personal foibles, specific to me and my husband. But the broader system—and indeed, any system of this kind—seems like it would crumble for any couple operating under the pressures of modern life, especially if you don’t live near family.

Let’s say you’re holding the “dinner” card, but you really need help with the execution part—peeling the potatoes—because you got stuck on a work call. According to Rodsky, what you’re supposed to do in this case is ask for help from “someone in your village other than your partner.” The problem, of course, is that I, and so many other moms, don’t have a village. My parents live a flight away. Rich’s parents are dead. We have no other family nearby, and we have to drive an hour to see most of our friends. Often, I’m “assigning” Rich tasks, even if they’re technically my “job,” because I’m literally holding a crying baby and no one else is available to help.

Rodsky herself seems deeply empathetic to people who don’t have the money or time to maintain a perfectly run household. She grew up with a single mother, so financially pinched that they used trash bags as luggage. She told me that when she would go into the kitchen at night to get her disabled brother some water, she would close her eyes for a second to allow the cockroaches time to scatter off the piles of dirty dishes.

On our call, Rodsky suggested that one solution might be thinking of your village as a neighbor or even a friendly security guard at a local store—two individuals her own mother relied on for occasional help when she was a girl. But I don’t know my neighbors or my local shopkeepers well enough to do this.

Rich and I have also struggled with the minimum standard of care. At one point, Rich tried to convince me that floors don’t actually need mopping. They can just be dirty! Rodsky suggests that, in situations like these, you should “collaborate on what is reasonable within your own home,” ultimately reverting to a “reasonable person” standard from jurisprudence. But the problem is that in our home, and in many others, there is no judge or jury. We are prosecutor and defense attorney, and there’s no verdict in sight.

A recent study of the Fair Play system conducted by researchers at the University of Southern California found that the system did work—at least among the couples who actually applied it. When participants in the study completed the Fair Play program and divided the household labor more equitably, their mental health improved, their burnout decreased, and their relationship quality improved. But here’s the rub: Only about a quarter of the participants actually completed the Fair Play program. Darby Saxbe, a USC psychologist and an author of the study, told me that participants might have dropped out because they didn’t pay for or even actively seek out the program; they were offered it. Or perhaps being overwhelmed with parenting and domestic labor didn’t leave a lot of time for divvying up parenting and domestic labor. Still, Saxbe thinks the program is worth considering, especially before couples have kids. “We know domestic labor is a huge reason that a lot of women initiate divorce and separation, but we don’t have a lot of great solutions,” she told me.

Allison Daminger, a sociologist at the University of Wisconsin who studies the division of household labor, told me Fair Play is the program she tends to refer people to when they tell her they’re struggling with chore management. But people who seek it out, she said, often struggle with “overload, maybe some conflict in the relationship.” These are the very things that become hurdles to doing Fair Play.

I asked Rodsky what to do if your partner just doesn’t do his cards—the issue that my husband and I keep running into. Rodsky told me this can mean that the partner who does do their cards has poor boundaries. “They haven’t really done that internal work yet to really understand what a boundary means,” she says. “What are they willing to accept?” Rodsky says that for her, setting a boundary meant telling her husband, “I’m not willing to live like that anymore.”

But I am willing to live this way. I’m not getting divorced, because there is too much work to do. Right now a helper is worse than a co-pilot, but it’s better than nothing. And, well, when we’re not screaming at each other about Clorox wipes, we do like each other.

Daminger also suggested doing some “deep work” to understand why a (hypothetical) husband (but actually mine) wasn’t doing his fair share. It could be that “you and your partner have very different underlying goals and intentions,” Daminger said. “And I think if that’s the case, then systems for dividing up tasks better are probably not going to be effective.”

[Joe Pinsker: The gender researcher’s guide to an equal marriage]

When reached for comment, Rich called this article “very good” and “delightful,” but admitted that he has “a vastly different thinking pattern around what is clean and what isn’t clean.” Then he pointed out that he, unbidden, cleans “both sides of the garbage-disposal cover.” Then we got into a fight about how often he initiates Swiffering without being asked.

The more I talked with Rodsky and Daminger, the worse I felt. I felt bad for having an imperfect husband and an imperfect life. Why didn’t I know my neighbor well enough for her to be my village? Why did I marry a sloppy guy who doesn’t Swiffer? Why did I have a baby if I don’t have good boundaries, or even a Trello account? I came away with the conclusion that Rich and I are just not very compatible in this way, and that to approach compatibility would take a whopping amount of couple’s therapy that we don’t have time for right now.

Instead, our strategy is not one that Rodsky would like. I bark out orders, and Rich kinda-sorta fulfills them, most of the time. He doesn’t understand Evan’s needs the way I do, and it would be too hard for me to explain them to him. I’m pickier and cleaner than he is, and it will probably always be this way. Rodsky referred to this kind of thinking as being “complicit in your own oppression.” I call it getting our kid to middle school in one piece.

There is another element to it, though. During that frightening, feverish week, I spent hours swabbing Evan’s forehead with a cold washcloth and, because it hurt his ears to nurse, giving him sips of breast milk from a cup—his first-ever drink from something other than a bottle. I had to admit that part of me liked cuddling him and easing his distress—even if it was technically Rich’s turn to be on duty. It was mental, emotional, and physical labor that didn’t pay and that I, on some level, enjoyed. It wasn’t fair. But life rarely is.