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Americans don’t understand foreign aid. Instead of relying on misinformed citizens, we should demand better answers from national leaders who want to cut aid to our friends and allies and imperil American security.

First, here are four new stories from The Atlantic:

Nasal congestion is far weirder than you might think. What Matthew Perry knew about comedy Capitalism has plans for menopause. What financial engineering does to hospitals

Persistent Foreign-Aid Myths

The Washington Post sent a reporter to a diner in Shreveport, Louisiana, last week to talk with voters in the district represented by the new speaker of the House, Mike Johnson. And wouldn’t you know it, they were very happy to see him become speaker, including one voter in the diner who—imagine the luck—just happened to be Mike Johnson’s mother. “God did this,” Jeanne Johnson said of her son’s ascension to the speakership.

I have my doubts about God’s participation in American elections, but she’s a proud mom, and understandably so. She told the reporter that Johnson “began leading as a child,” stepping up at a young age to help the family. That’s nice; my mom, God rest her soul, used to say nice things about me too.

The rest of the article included predictable discussions with the local burghers who hope we can finally overcome all this nastiness in our politics—there is no apparent awareness of how all that unpleasantness got started—and get to work and solve problems under the leadership of an obviously swell guy. (In fact, we are told he even calmed an angry voter at a town hall. Amazing.) Johnson, of course, also voted to overturn the 2020 presidential election, and has many views that would have been considered retrograde by most Americans even 30 years ago, but gosh darn it, people in Shreveport sure seem to like him.

I remain astonished that so much of the media remain committed to covering Donald Trump and sedition-adjacent extremists such as Johnson as if they are normal American politicians. But while Americans pretend that all is well, the rest of the world is busily going about its terrifying business, which is why one comment in the Post article jumped out at me.

“Politics here is personal,” according to Celeste Gauthier, 45. (The Post, for some reason, notes that Gauthier attended Middlebury College for a time—perhaps as a clumsy way of trying to tell us she’s not merely some rough local, and that she returned from Vermont to help run her family’s three restaurants.) She is concerned:

“People really do look at the funding we’re sending to Israel and Ukraine and say, ‘I can’t afford to go to Kroger,’” Gauthier said as she sat amid the lunchtime crowd, some of whom she said had stopped buying beverages because of the cost. “A lot of these customers know Mike Johnson and think we often get overlooked and maybe we won’t anymore,” she said.

I’m not sure what it means to be “overlooked” in a cherry-red district in a state where, as the Post notes, Republicans will control all three branches of state government once the conservative governor-elect is sworn in, but the comment about foreign aid is a classic expression of how little people understand about the subject.

Perhaps Gauthier or others believe that the new speaker—who has been opposed to sending aid to Ukraine—would redirect the money back to “overlooked” Louisianans, maybe as increased aid to the poor. He wouldn’t, of course, as he has already proposed huge cuts in social spending. As for Israel, evangelical Christians such as Johnson have a special interest in Israel for their own eschatological reasons, and Johnson has already decided to decouple aid to Israel from aid to Ukraine. Senate Minority Leader Mitch McConnell—whose understanding of foreign policy is practically Churchillian compared with Johnson’s—is none too happy about that.

Let’s review some important realities.

First, foreign aid is about 1 percent of the U.S. budget, roughly $60 billion. Special appropriations to Ukraine have, over the course of 18 months, added up to about $75 billion, including both humanitarian aid and weapons. Israel—a far smaller country that has, over the past 70 years, cumulatively received more foreign aid from the United States than from any other country—usually gets about $3 billion, but Joe Biden now wants to add about $14 billion to that.

That’s a lot of money. To put it in perspective, however, Americans forked over about $181 billion annually on snacks, and $115 billion for beer last year. (They also shell out about $7 billion annually just for potato chips. The snack spending is increasing, perhaps because Americans now spend about $30 billion on legal marijuana every year.) Americans also ante up a few bucks here and there on legal sports gambling, and by “a few” I mean more than $220 billion over the past five years.

I know suds and weed and sports books and pretzels are more fun than helping Ukrainians stay alive. And I know, too, that supposedly small-government conservatives will answer: It’s none of your damn business what Americans are spending their money on.

They’re right—up to a point. But we are, in theory, adults who can establish sensible priorities. We pay taxes so that the federal government can do things that no other level of government can achieve, and national security is one of them. Right now, the Russian army—the greatest threat to NATO in Europe—is taking immense losses on a foreign battlefield for a total investment that (as of this moment) is less than one-tenth of the amount we spend on defense in a single year. This is the spending Mike Johnson is so worried about?

Of course, we might repeat one more time that much of the food and weapons and other goods America sends to places like Israel and Ukraine are actually made by Americans. And yet many Republican leaders (and their propaganda arm at Fox and other outlets) continue to talk about aid as if some State Department phantom in a trench coat meets the president of Ukraine or the prime minister of Israel in an alley and hands over a metal briefcase filled with neatly wrapped stacks of bills.

We need to stop asking people in diners about foreign aid. (Populists who demand that we rely on guidance from The People should remember that most Americans think foreign aid should be about 10 percent of the budget—a percentage those voters think would be a reduction but would actually be a massive increase.) Instead, put our national leaders on the spot to explain what they think foreign aid is, where it goes, and what it does, and then call them out, every time, when they spin fantasies about it. Otherwise, legislators such as Johnson will be able to sit back and let the folks at the pie counter believe that he’s going to round up $75 billion and send it back home.

That’s an old and dumb trope, but it works. If you’re a Republican in Congress, and if you can stay in Washington by convincing people at the diner that you’re going to take cash from Ukrainians (wherever they are) and give it back to the hardworking waitress pouring your coffee, then you do it—because in this new GOP, your continued presence in Washington is more important than anything, including the security of the United States.

Related:

Yes, the U.S. can afford to help its allies. Why the GOP extremists oppose Ukraine

Today’s News

Israel began its ground offensive in Gaza over the weekend. Tanks and troops continue to push deeper into the city. A trial began in Colorado over whether Donald Trump is ineligible to hold presidential office again under the Fourteenth Amendment. Russian protesters in the largely Muslim-populated area of Dagestan marched on an airport, surrounding a plane that had arrived from Tel Aviv, on Sunday; at least 10 people were injured.

Dispatches

Work in Progress: There’s a secretive industry devouring the U.S. economy, Rogé Karma writes. It’s made one-fifth of the market effectively invisible to investors, the media, and regulators.

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Culture Break

Read. Black writers have long used science fiction, fantasy, and horror to dramatize the terrors of racism. Here are six books that will scare you—and make you think.

Watch. SNL’s latest episode (streaming on Peacock) offered Nate Bargatze perhaps his biggest platform to date, where he delivered understated comedy about everyday topics.

Play our daily crossword.

P.S.

Back in February, I wrote that I was somewhat mystified when Nikki Haley entered the GOP primaries. I was never a fan of the South Carolina governor, because I reject any candidate who bent the knee to Donald Trump. I described her announcement of her candidacy as “vapid and weightless,” and I expected her campaign to be no better. I assumed that she would be gone early.

Was I wrong? Haley was strong in the GOP debates (such that they were without Trump) and is now surging ahead of the hapless Ron DeSantis as the most credible Trump alternative. My friend Michael Strain today even presented “The Case for Nikki Haley” in National Review, a magazine that up until now has been a DeSantis stronghold. I remain convinced that Haley cannot beat Trump, even if she would be more formidable against Biden than either Trump or DeSantis. But I was too quick off the blocks in my assumption that Haley was going to get bigfooted off the stage by other candidates. Of course, I also didn’t predict that Vivek Ramaswamy would be on that same stage and that he would claim the early prize for “most obnoxious GOPer not named Trump.” I’m a creative guy, but there are limits even to my imagination.

— Tom

In an eight-week limited series, The Atlantic’s leading thinkers on AI will help you wrap your mind around the dawn of a new machine age. Sign up for the Atlantic Intelligence newsletter to receive the first edition next week.

Katherine Hu contributed to this newsletter.

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Welcome back to The Daily’s Sunday culture edition, in which one Atlantic writer reveals what’s keeping them entertained. Today’s special guest is our Science editor Sarah Laskow. Sarah recently investigated whether salsa is gazpacho—and whether gazpacho is salsa. She’s also explored how America’s lost crops rewrite the history of farming.

Sarah is enjoying the sincerity in The Golden Bachelor, despite its cringiest moments; regretting her Shins phase as a New Jersey teen; and thinking about the incredible quantity of oranges consumed in a wonderful children’s book.

First, here are three Sunday reads from The Atlantic:

Books that changed how our writers and editors think Why America doesn’t build Are pet cloners happy with their choice?

The Culture Survey: Sarah Laskow

The entertainment product my friends are talking about most right now: Killers of the Flower Moon. I think if you say the words “Martin Scorsese is adapting a David Grann book,” a certain sphere of people will accept point-blank that they have to experience that.

The best novel I’ve recently read, and the best work of nonfiction: On the plane to a friend’s wedding in Greece, I decided that as a mom leaving her kids behind to spend time in Athens, I might as well reread Rachel Cusk’s Outline, which begins on a plane with a mom leaving her kids behind to spend time in Athens. I’m not divorced and did not meet a Greek shipping heir on the plane, but I did end up later having drinks with someone who told a story about their complicated relationship with a Greek shipping heir, which I swear Cusk could have written. I wondered if that was why I loved this book even more than the first time I read it. But really I was just so swept away by the way the book works: The narrator is constantly listening to other people tell her stories about their lives, sometimes invited, sometimes less so, which means the novel is both a collection of vignettes with many narrators and a portrait of the narrator, who’s defined as much by what she doesn’t say as by what she does. It’s truly incredible that Cusk wrote this book in three weeks (although three weeks without children does sound like a luxury of time).

On that same trip, I also read Rick Steves’s Pocket Athens, and specifically the chapter that guides you through the National Archaeological Museum. It is a peerless work of a very specific genre of nonfiction. It does exactly the job it needs to, illuminating the story of Greek sculpture for the casual tourist who has no background in the subject. (A friend recommended the guide-museum combo, which made me wonder the same thing about Rick Steves that I wonder about bird-watching: Is it getting more popular, or am I just getting old?) The highlight of the museum, for me, was the Mask of Agamemnon—I’ve seen so many images of it over the course of my life, but the real thing was so shiny and beautifully made; seeing it among the other burial objects with which it was discovered made me imagine the excitement of an archaeological dig where piece after piece of gold emerged from the ground after being buried for thousands of years. [Related: Rachel Cusk won’t stay still.]

The television show I’m most enjoying right now: On the theme of ancient treasures, I’m obsessed with The Golden Bachelor. I haven’t been a particular fan of the series—in fact, I identify with the subset of semi-clueless contestants on this season who need to be reminded what the roses and date cards mean. The show can’t quite escape itself: It’s still about a group of extremely groomed women fighting over a man. But I find this particular iteration compelling as a portrait of Boomers and how they imagine the later stages of life. The bachelor in question, Gerry, comes across as both disarmingly genuine and gratingly of his time. I cringed when he ordered food without really stopping to ask what his date might want. That old-fashioned tinge, though, is part of why I’m watching. Like the best reality TV, the show has just enough sincerity to make me root for at least some of these very cheesy people.

A cultural product I loved as a teenager and still love, and something I loved but now dislike: Whitney Houston’s Whitney has always been one of the best albums to listen to, and belt along to, even if, like me, you are a terrible singer. On the other end of the spectrum is the Shins’ Chutes Too Narrow, which just had its 20th anniversary—and which I listened to on repeat at one point in my life. Something about the band’s wordy music spoke to my suburban–New Jersey teenage dissatisfactions, although I always felt a little betrayed that the Shins’ fame was so closely tied to Garden State, a bad film. (Harold & Kumar Go to White Castle is a much more true portrait of Jersey vibes.) But now I mostly find these songs whiny and can’t stand to listen to any for more than 20 seconds.

Something I recently revisited: My brother-in-law and nephew recently started reading My Father’s Dragon; my 3-year-old isn’t so interested yet, but when I reread the first few chapters—in which Elmer, the young protagonist, meets a cat, learns about a captive dragon, packs his bag with two dozen pink lollipops, and stows away on a ship—I remembered why I had loved it as a kid. One detail I had forgotten is just how many tangerines Elmer consumes after landing on the island of Tangerina. At one point he puts 31 in his bag, then later eats eight in one go and then three more a few hours after. I can eat a lot of small citrus fruits, but that’s a lot of tangerines.

The Week Ahead

The Gilded Age, a period drama set in New York City during the economic change of the 1880s, comes out with its second season (premieres on HBO today). In The Reformatory, a novel by Tananarive Due, a boy who is sent to a segregated reform school in Jim Crow Florida sees ghosts—and the truth (on sale Tuesday). Priscilla tells the story of the teenage girl whom Elvis Presley fell in love with, and the life they built together (in theaters Friday).

Essay

TCD / Prod.DB / Alamy

The Hero Gen Z Needs

By Elise Hanuum

Snoopy was everywhere when I was growing up, in the early 2000s. On TV, the cartoon beagle appeared as a float in the Macy’s Thanksgiving Day Parade and starred in the holiday specials my family watched; in real life, his statues were all over Saint Paul, Minnesota, a hometown I share with the Peanuts creator Charles Schulz. After I left for college, Snoopy largely disappeared from my life. But recently, I’ve started encountering him all over again, on social media.

The TikTok account @snooopyiscool, also known as Snoopy Sister, went viral earlier this year and has more than half a million followers. Other Snoopy videos on the app regularly rack up thousands, if not hundreds of thousands, of views. This online resurgence, primarily among young people, has mostly been fueled by short, shareable Peanuts clips set to surprisingly apt contemporary music. In them, Charlie Brown’s intrepid pet beagle tags along on the kids’ adventures—they often face some sort of problem but aren’t always left with an easy solution … It seems that a new generation is finally seeing Snoopy for who he really is.

Read the full article.

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Photo Album

Lucerne Bell of Team USA competes in the women’s 400-meter individual medley swimming event at the Pan American Games in Santiago, Chile. (Francois-Xavier Marit / AFP / Getty)

Shrimp fishing on a Belgian beach, the WNBA-championship victory parade in Las Vegas, and more in our editor’s selection of the week’s best photos.

Katherine Hu contributed to this newsletter.

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“I believe in chasing the ghost of my former lighthearted self,” my colleague Faith Hill wrote last year. And “if there’s one day when I might almost catch up, it’s Halloween: the most ridiculous, inherently childish holiday, and perhaps the one grown-ups need most.”

As we get older, experiences of pure, full-body fun and joy become more fleeting. Faith argues that adult Halloween is the perfect opportunity to get in touch with that kind of fun, and the freedom it can yield: “When everyone is wearing a dumb outfit and surrounded by tacky decorations, you all withhold judgment together. You might even remember, just for a second, who you were as a young child: unencumbered by pretensions and insecurities, present and goofy and willing to take things as they are.”

On Halloween

Adult Halloween Is Stupid, Embarrassing, and Very Important

By Faith Hill

The most inherently childish holiday might be the one grown-ups need the most.

Trick-or-Treating Isn’t What It Used to Be

By Julie Beck

Instead of going door-to-door on Halloween night, many parents are taking their kids elsewhere to get candy.

You Must Respect Candy Corn

By Ian Bogost

Even in paradise, death lurks.

Still Curious?

How candy and Halloween became best friends: The origins of trick-or-treating, a relatively recent phenomenon (From 2010) Pumpkins, an American obsession: The beloved vegetable that fed New England’s starving settlers now produces more than $100 million in sales. (From 2016)

Other Diversions

The science behind basketball’s biggest debate Are pet cloners happy with their choice? The hero Gen Z needs

P.S.

Spending Halloween on the couch and looking for some on-theme movie options? Our critic suggested five Halloween movies in 2021, for both the scaredy-cats and the horror lovers among you.

— Isabel

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Sam Bankman-Fried is testifying in his own case. He has the chance to tell his side of the story—something he’s historically been very good at—but now the former FTX executive is having trouble explaining himself.

First, here are three new stories from The Atlantic:

Dean Phillips has a warning for Democrats. The decolonization narrative is dangerous and false. The science behind basketball’s biggest debate

A Nearly Impossible Interlocutor

On the witness stand in a Manhattan federal courtroom yesterday, Sam Bankman-Fried gave off the impression that he was not accustomed to being grilled. For years, that was true: No investors sat on FTX’s board of directors, and people clamored to give him money without doing proper due diligence. But even if people had tried to question Bankman-Fried about the integrity or process of his company, it seems he would have proved a nearly impossible interlocutor. On the stand, he eagerly explained complicated tech concepts such as the blockchain. But when tougher questions about seemingly straightforward topics were brought up—such as whether or not a payment agreement authorized Alameda Research, FTX’s sister company, to spend customer funds, and whether he got permission from lawyers to destroy messages—he deflected, reframed, apologized, and changed the subject.

The question of whether Bankman-Fried would testify in his own defense has been hanging over his trial since it began nearly four weeks ago. Testifying allows a defendant to tell his own story, but it also opens him up to self-incrimination. Bankman-Fried’s lawyers announced on Wednesday that he would testify, and he was expected to start yesterday. Instead, the judge made the unusual decision to hold an evidentiary hearing, in order to decide what parts of Bankman-Fried’s testimony would be permissible to include before the jury. This surprise hearing was effectively a dry run of Bankman-Fried’s testimony, which began in front of jurors this morning. (A spokesperson for Bankman-Fried declined to comment.)

With the confident, at times slightly condescending manner of a special-interest-podcast host, Bankman-Fried first answered a series of easy questions from the defense, arguing that FTX’s lawyers were to blame for many of the company’s failures, and claiming that he had followed their guidance in good faith. For a short while, he appeared at ease. He famously used to play video games during important calls—with investors, with Anna Wintour, with journalists—and some of that weary insouciance came through while he was on the stand. “Yep,” he sometimes chirped in the middle of his lawyer’s questions, as if he was already bored of the question.

But during cross-examination, conducted by Assistant U.S. Attorney Danielle Sassoon, Bankman-Fried began to flounder. I watched as he rotated through a number of tactics in quick succession. He repeatedly said that he didn’t remember a lot of aspects of running his company. He used passive voice excessively, describing a business that was apparently operating itself around him. That was unsurprising; his lawyers have been signaling that other people were to blame for FTX’s failures throughout the trial. More unusual was the way that he began to attempt to gain the upper hand in the cross-examination: At some points, he condescended to Sassoon, or adopted the rhetoric of the lawyers. “Once again, I will give a specific answer, but if this is not scoped correctly, tell me,” he said at one point (as if it was his job, not that of the lawyers and judge, to worry about scope). At another point, Bankman-Fried conveyed his apologies that “because of the order we’re doing this in, this [response] will be a somewhat substantial digression.” Sassoon didn’t blink at this implicit critique of how she was doing her job. Bankman-Fried is used to being on the side of people like elite lawyers. (His parents, both Stanford law professors, were sitting in court, jotting down notes or doodles in legal pads.) Facing off against lawyers in court, he alternated between presenting himself as a collaborator who was just trying to help and offering word-salad answers that did not help at all.

Bankman-Fried also subtly attempted to erode Sassoon’s authority by suggesting that her questions were unclear: “I wouldn’t phrase it that way. But I think that the answer to the question I understand you to be trying to ask is yes,” he said, in response to a question—of central importance to the case—about whether a payment agreement allowed Alameda to spend customer deposits. When Sassoon pulled up an exhibit and asked Bankman-Fried to point out where in the agreement it said that Alameda was allowed to spend customer funds, he paused for well over a minute, casting his eyes downward. Then, at last, he broke the silence: “So I should preface this by saying I’m not a lawyer,” he said, before delivering such a long and convoluted answer that Sassoon got the judge’s approval to repeat the question and try to get him to answer it again. In front of the jury this morning, Bankman-Fried stuck to the narrative his lawyers had set up in recent weeks, portraying himself as a hard-working entrepreneur who got in over his head.

Bankman-Fried has always been a good talker, and it’s that skill that helped him not only to make money, but to gain power. Telling his side of the story is his specialty. A big part of this story is that FTX was never really about getting rich. Bankman-Fried did, of course, come to be worth billions of dollars. But he justified his profitable gambits by saying that he was using his money to make the world a better place. Through his millions of dollars of donations to the effective-altruism movement, he devoted himself to a goal no less lofty than saving the future of humanity, focusing large portions of his philanthropy on artificial intelligence and preventing future pandemics.

Through prolific additional donations (many of which are now under legal scrutiny), he also attempted to reshape politics; Bankman-Fried was one of the biggest donors of the 2022 campaign cycle. He also made repeated trips to Washington and lobbied consistently for the crypto industry. Before FTX collapsed, Bankman-Fried’s money, and his power, was in fact beginning to change the world—in part because no one questioned him in the way that government prosecutors have done in court. After watching him yesterday, I’d guess that even those who might have tried questioning him didn’t get very far; Bankman-Fried’s rhetorical gymnastics were exasperating (especially to Judge Lewis Kaplan, who kept admonishing him to just answer the questions). Bankman-Fried is a numbers guy; his lawyer called him a “math nerd” in court. But he’s also long been a language guy, deft at using words to gain power. In court yesterday, under the harsh scrutiny of federal prosecutors, that rhetoric was falling flat.

Related:

The taming of Sam Bankman-Fried The journalist and the fallen billionaire

Today’s News

Judge Arthur Engoron ruled that Ivanka Trump must testify at her father’s New York civil fraud trial. The United States carried out two precision strikes on Iran-linked locations in Syria as retaliation for attacks on its bases and personnel in the area. Li Keqiang, the former premier of China, died at the age of 68.

Dispatches

The Books Briefing: Stop doomscrolling about Israel and Palestine, Gal Beckerman writes—read these books instead. Up for Debate: When should people try to better the world through their job? Conor Friedersdorf asks readers for their thoughts, and discusses university responses to the Israel-Hamas war.

Explore all of our newsletters here.

Evening Read Photo-illustration by The Atlantic. Source: jjwithers / Getty.

Why America Doesn’t Build

By Jerusalem Demsas

Here’s how wind-energy projects aren’t built in America. This particular story took place a decade ago but could easily have unfolded last year or last month. In 2013, a Texas-based company put forward a proposal to build two windmill farms in northeastern Alabama. The company said that the farms would generate enough power for more than 24,000 homes, eagerly projecting that it would break ground by the end of 2013. But local opposition swiftly defeated the project. Opponents also won stringent regulations that made future wind farms in the area extremely unlikely...

In the typical cultural script, a polluting corporation tries to crush the little guy; a pipeline threatens a defenseless fox; a faceless bureaucrat charts the course of a highway through a thriving neighborhood. Accordingly, American environmentalists have developed tools to help citizens delay or block development. These tools are now being used against clean-energy projects, hampering a green transition. The legal tactics that allow someone to challenge a pipeline can also help them fight a solar farm; the political rhetoric deployed against the siting of toxic-waste dumps can be redeployed against transmission lines. And the whole concept that regular people can and should act as a private attorneys general has, in practice, put the green transition at the mercy of people with access, money, and time, while diluting the influence of those without.

Read the full article.

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Netflix

Read. Britney Spears’s new memoir, The Woman in Me, is the pop star’s attempt to close a long and maddening chapter of her life. Will we finally let her?

Watch. David Fincher’s The Killer (in select theaters) is a movie about the perils of being a control freak.

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Terrorism, like war, is a word we tend to use almost as a reflex to describe anything that horrifies us. But words can lead us to choose policies, and we should be aware of how we use them.

First, here are three new stories from The Atlantic:

“Why I own guns and why I’m part of the problem.” Hurricane Otis was too fast for the forecasters. Will Republicans pay a price for extremism? The hero Gen Z needs

Another Terrifying Day

As I write this, a mass shooter is loose in Maine. I have close family members who live not far from the scene of the massacre, and, like all Americans, I am praying that his rampage is stopped before he kills again.

I do not know why someone in Maine engaged in a mass slaughter yesterday. (Authorities have identified a suspect, but I see no point in naming him here.) The alleged shooter was reportedly committed to a mental-health facility this past summer, but I do not know what condition led to his stay. I do not know if there was some precipitating event, or whether he was under the influence of drugs, or if he is just an evil human being.

I also do not know if he is a terrorist. At this moment, no one does. But on social media, especially, the word terrorist is being thrown about with great confidence, especially now that we have some evidence that the suspect’s social-media feed was heavy with likes of right-wing accounts. This may not mean much; the alleged shooter also seemed to like Jim Cramer and other finance-related accounts. We can’t really ascribe motive out of any of that; sometimes, people are radicalized and become dangerous, but other times, dangerous people seek out causes as a rationalization for violence.

I will be honest here and tell you that I considered leaving this subject for another day. We’re all scared, shocked, and angry. But times like this, when our fears are so sharp, are exactly when we need to think more calmly about the nature of the threat we’re facing. When we rush to apply words because they seem right to us in the heat of the moment, we run the risk of making mistakes that will reverberate throughout our later discussions and influence the policy choices we eventually make.

The U.S. government has its own definition of terrorism, and it is fairly loose—not least because after 9/11, the government wanted more flexibility in charging people for terroristic acts. But let’s start with something very important that almost all governments agree on: Terrorism is a political act intentionally aimed at civilians in order to produce fear and subsequent changes in government policy (or even the destruction of the targeted regime).

Usually, definitions of terrorism emphasize that the perpetrators are nongovernmental actors, because we already have terms for when states engage in the intentional murder of civilians: crimes against humanity and, in some cases, war crimes. (Intention is important: Civilians are always killed in wartime, but specifically targeting them is a crime.)

Counterterrorism operations also look for networks, planning, and cooperation among the killers. These networks have goals: Sometimes, the goal is relatively achievable (“release our comrades from prison”), sometimes it is huge (“give us autonomy” or “remove your forces from this area”), and sometimes it is nearly impossible (“overthrow your government and adopt our religion”). But there is always a goal.

Terrorism without a political motive isn’t terrorism. Not everything that terrifies people is terrorism, either, as counterintuitive as that may seem. After all, if it’s terrifying, it’s terrorism, right? Nevertheless, although many things scare (and kill) large numbers of people—gang wars, serial killers, arson—those that lack a coherent political character fall outside the legal, and sensible, definition of terrorism. They are crimes against other human beings, but they are not an attack on the entire political order.

Why does any of this matter? Above all, we need clarity on the nature of the crime so that we can choose the right response. Ever since 9/11, invoking terrorism in America has carried the possibility of setting in motion the immense machinery of government, regardless of the actual threat. But if we more carefully define terrorism to mean non-state actors attacking civilians to produce a political outcome, it gets a lot easier to think about how to react.

For example, Son of Sam killing six people, wounding seven others, and scaring the hell out of New York in 1976 and 1977 is ghastly, but it is not terrorism. But a car bomb in front of a mall—or a jetliner aimed at a building—attached to a political or social cause is terrorism. Son of Sam requires a manhunt by local and regional law enforcement. The car bomb requires a significant governmental response—and perhaps even military mobilization.

The shooting in Maine is not the only event spurring the daily deployment of terrorism as a term. The Hamas attack on Israel is now “Israel’s 9/11,” and the United States is reportedly advising the Israeli government not to make some of the same mistakes America made in its own War on Terror. (War is another term thrown about too easily, but that’s a subject for another day.) I know the old saw “one man’s freedom fighter is another man’s terrorist,” but I believe that the Hamas invasion was terrorism: Non-state actors intentionally targeted civilians to effect a political goal.

You can argue over justice and morality—some people have made the despicable argument that Israel brought this nightmare on itself, similar to arguments made about America deserving what happened on 9/11—but there can be no argument that rape, infanticide, and butchery in service of a political goal are terrorism. (Russia has done the same in Ukraine—but as a state actor, the Kremlin and its high command should be charged with crimes against humanity and war crimes.)

In Maine, the situation is far less clear. It might make us feel better, and give more meaning to the heartbreaking deaths, to believe that we’re fighting terrorism; the alternative is to wrestle with the even more frightening and desolating possibility that the Maine shooter may (like the Las Vegas killer in 2017) have had no real reason to kill beyond his own unknowable inner torment.

When we use a word such as terrorism promiscuously, we risk turning it into little more than shorthand for our fear and anger. The term not only invites a massive government reaction but could also lead to misallocation of resources in our responses, especially if we conflate mental illness, the obvious problem of guns, and “terrorism.”

To take but one example: In late 2021, a mentally disturbed 15-year-old named Ethan Crumbley killed four people at his school. He was convicted of murder—and of terrorism, under a state law enacted after 9/11. (The prosecutor’s argument was essentially that Crumbley’s act had terrified people, and so: terrorism.) If a teenage school shooter who was hallucinating about demons and sending messages pleading for help is a terrorist, then the word has virtually no meaning.

Sanctifying the word terrorism as an obvious motive for every mass killing was a significant mistake made by Americans and their government after 9/11. The world is crawling with plenty of real terrorists, but we should pause before we reach for a word whose incantation can summon powerful and illiberal forces from within our institutions—and ourselves.

Related:

The narcissism of the angry young men A lone-wolf shooter has an online pack.

Today’s News

Israel sent armored tanks into northern Gaza overnight following remarks from Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu about a likely ground invasion.    Representative Jamaal Bowman pleaded guilty to setting off a false fire alarm in a House office building. The Texas House of Representatives passed a bill that would make it a state crime to cross illegally into Texas, and enable officers to arrest and deport undocumented immigrants.

More From The Atlantic

Dobbs’s confounding effect on abortion rates Biden says goodbye to tweezer economics. “I love candy. But does it make me happy?” We’ve never seen anything like the Menendez indictment.

Culture Break

Read. They Called Us Exceptional: And Other Lies That Raised Us, a memoir by Prachi Gupta, delves into the grief of cutting off family, and argues that estrangement can be a tool of self-love.

Listen. In the latest episode of Radio Atlantic, host Hanna Rosin speaks with Jordan Peele and N. K. Jemisin about their new anthology, Out There Screaming, and the subversive goals of Black horror.

Play our daily crossword.

P.S.

I am a traditionalist who dislikes much about modern music. (I think Auto-Tune is a crime against God and man.) So I cringed when I saw in The Guardian that Paul McCartney and Ringo Starr are going to use AI to resurrect John Lennon for one more Beatles tune, with a guitar part recorded in the 1990s by George Harrison, who died in 2001.

When I learned more, I was heartened. I liked the use of John’s voice in later Beatle releases, especially the song “Free As a Bird.” Apparently, John’s widow, Yoko Ono, had some of these materials on a cassette John had marked “For Paul,” and the three surviving Beatles at the time used modern studio magic to clean up the tapes. But technological limitations prevented them from using all of John’s singing and playing. AI allowed Paul and Ringo to restore his parts in the new single, titled “Now and Then.”

George reportedly didn’t like “Now and Then,” but his widow and his son think that with the restored quality, he’d have approved. It wouldn’t be the first time the Beatles disagreed on a song. But I’m glad we’re going to get one more single from them before they finally close their legendary catalog.

— Tom

Katherine Hu contributed to this newsletter.

When you buy a book using a link in this newsletter, we receive a commission. Thank you for supporting The Atlantic.

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In recent weeks, statements about the Israel-Hamas war have emerged from corporations of all kinds. Predictably, they have not all gone over well.

First, here are four new stories from The Atlantic:

​​A speaker without enemies—for now “You started a war, you’ll get a Nakba.” The junk is winning.

The Logic of Speaking Out

Since October 7, more than 150 companies have made statements condemning Hamas’s attacks on Israel. A tracker compiled by Jeffrey Sonnenfeld, a business professor at Yale, shows the wide-ranging nature of the industries represented. Palantir, which works with governments on data and defense projects and has an office in Israel, took out a full-page ad in the The New York Times that said “Palantir stands with Israel.” Salesforce, which has offices in Israel, put out a statement condemning Hamas’s attack and outlining support for employees there. And brands with less obvious connections to the region, such as Major League Baseball, have issued statements as well.

At one time in American history, tech firms and sports leagues would not have been expected to wade into geopolitical issues. For many years, for better or worse, the role of corporations was principally to make money. But over the past decade especially, some employees and customers have started expecting, or even demanding, that companies speak out on social issues. The rise of the social web, and the eagerness among many brands to establish a direct line of communication with consumers, created an environment in which such a dialogue wasn’t just possible but seemed unavoidable. After George Floyd’s murder in 2020, as the Black Lives Matter movement continued to grow, many corporations made statements about racial justice (and many, in turn, faced blowback from employees and consumers who saw the statements as insincere). After the fall of Roe v. Wade, corporations generally took a circumspect approach, more commonly issuing statements about what they were doing to help employees access health care than taking a stance on the morality of abortion. Now companies are once again navigating the tricky terrain of public statements as the Israel-Hamas war continues.

A lot of the pressure on corporations to speak out about political or social issues is coming from younger workers who believe that companies should operate with a sense of purpose beyond just making money, Paul Argenti, a professor at Dartmouth’s Tuck School of Business, told me. And some are vocal: Employees at Instacart and Procter & Gamble have reportedly complained about their employers’ lack of immediate public statements on the Israel-Hamas war. And some workers are pressuring their employers—including major tech companies, according to a Washington Post report—to issue statements condemning the deaths of Palestinians in Gaza, which fewer large corporations have done thus far. (Plenty of companies have issued mealier-mouthed statements falling somewhere in the middle, angering even more people.)

It’s important, Argenti said, for executives to think about why releasing a statement in a fraught moment makes sense for them. Companies that speak out on one issue without truly thinking about why they are doing so may get caught in a challenging loop. “If you don’t have a plan for how you’re thinking about” social issues, “then you have to talk about everything,” Argenti said, adding that speaking without a clear reason can lead to “wishy-washy statements that are just trying to get on the bandwagon … That is a very dangerous place to be, because you’re going to get heat.” There are plenty of good reasons, he argued, for an executive to issue a statement—because of business interests in a region, for example, or to speak out on an issue of great personal importance. But saying something just because everyone else is, because employees are outraged, or because you want to seem like the good guy in a charged moment may well backfire. “Corporations are not political entities that have to speak out on every issue,” he told me.

The proliferation of company statements in recent years might suggest that customers are clamoring for their favorite brands to speak up, too, but it’s not clear that the majority of consumers actually care all that much, especially lately. This year, 41 percent of consumers said that businesses should take a stand on current events, according to a poll from Gallup and Bentley University, down from 48 percent last year. Forrester, a research and analysis firm, saw a dip for the first time in four years in the number of surveyed adults who say they “regularly purchase from brands that align with their personal values.” There are certain issues that consumers tend to think companies should comment on: 55 percent of people said companies should speak up about climate change, the Gallup and Bentley polling found. But just 27 percent of people said that companies should speak up about international conflicts (however, these data were gathered before the Israel-Hamas war began).

Businesses aren’t the only ones making statements—or taking heat for their stances. Universities, celebrities, and even many individuals with large followings on social media have shared public statements on the conflict in recent weeks. Sam Adler-Bell, writing about statement mania in New York magazine, suggested that part of the compulsion to speak out has to do with the sense of helplessness many feel about the war and their own ability to affect its outcome. “When our government is this unresponsive, it makes sense that Americans look closer to home for moral clarity. Powerless to influence actual policy outcomes, we settle for battling over discourse,” he writes.

Corporations exist to make a profit, and they sell goods and services that end up shaping our culture. But their role is also slowly morphing into something more personal—and much wider in scope than it once was. Sonnenfeld, the Yale professor tracking statements, told me that in his view, some of the pressure to speak out may come from the role that business leaders play in a time of deteriorating trust in politicians, media, and the clergy. “CEOs have become pillars of trust in society,” he said. The notion of CEOs as America’s hope for moral leadership may be enough to make skeptics raise an eyebrow, but the decline in public trust is worrying and real.

Even for the corporations whose CEOs are driven primarily by a mission in the public interest, more often than not, opining on issues of global foreign policy is of questionable value. Corporations are already deeply embedded in the political system because of their lobbying power and ability to influence regulations. “That’s enough,” Argenti said. “Do we want them involved in thinking about political issues,” too?

Related:

What conservatives misunderstand about radicalism at universities Beware the language that erases reality.

Today’s News

Mike Johnson was elected speaker of the House with unanimous Republican support. Hurricane Otis made landfall in Mexico as a Category 5 storm. Michael Cohen took the stand again today in Donald Trump’s New York civil fraud trial after testifying yesterday that the former president instructed him to inflate the value of certain assets.

Dispatches

The Weekly Planet: Zoë Schlanger explores the invisible force keeping carbon in the ground. Up for Debate: Conor Friedersdorf gathers readers’ thoughts on what Israel can learn from America’s 9/11 response.

Explore all of our newsletters here.

Evening Read

The Asahi Shimbun / Getty

What If There’s a Secret Benefit to Getting Asian Glow?

By Katherine J. Wu

At every party, no matter the occasion, my drink of choice is soda water with lime. I have never, not once, been drunk—or even finished a full serving of alcohol. The single time I came close to doing so (thanks to half a serving of mulled wine), my heart rate soared, the room spun, and my face turned stop-sign red … all before I collapsed in front of a college professor at an academic event.

The blame for my alcohol aversion falls fully on my genetics: Like an estimated 500 million other people, most of them of East Asian descent, I carry a genetic mutation called ALDH2*2 that causes me to produce broken versions of an enzyme called aldehyde dehydrogenase 2, preventing my body from properly breaking down the toxic components of alcohol. And so, whenever I drink, all sorts of poisons known as aldehydes build up in my body—a predicament that my face announces to everyone around me.

By one line of evolutionary logic, I and the other sufferers of so-called alcohol flush (also known as Asian glow) shouldn’t exist.

Read the full article.

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The House Republicans’ troubling new litmus test ​​Americans don’t get to have the best new COVID drug. Can Germany resist the Trump disease?

Culture Break

Read. Our writers and editors share one book that changed how they think.

Watch. As the weather cools down, revisit the cozy whodunit series Murder, She Wrote (on Peacock).

Play our daily crossword.

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Katherine Hu contributed to this newsletter.

When you buy a book using a link in this newsletter, we receive a commission. Thank you for supporting The Atlantic.

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Robert Menendez has held on to his Senate seat and retained the loyalty of many Democratic colleagues through past scandals. But, given the current political environment and the gravity of the charges he now faces, many fellow Democrats have had enough—and voters might turn on him too.

First, here are three new stories from The Atlantic:

What’s the alternative to a ground offensive in Gaza? The great underappreciated driver of climate change A humanist manifesto

Undermining the High Ground

Yesterday afternoon, a couple of hours after pleading not guilty to the charge that he had conspired to act as an agent of a foreign government, Senator Robert Menendez announced that “the government is engaged in primitive hunting, by which the predator chases its prey until it’s exhausted and then kills it. This tactic won’t work.”

The senior senator from New Jersey’s plea—and subsequent defiant statement—came just a few weeks after he pleaded not guilty to three separate counts of corruption. Menendez and his wife, Nadine, were accused of accepting bribes worth hundreds of thousands of dollars in exchange for helping the government of Egypt and several businessmen. The original indictment was quite dramatic, peppered with talk of more than $500,000 of stashed-away cash and photos of gold bars found in his New Jersey home. Within hours of Menendez’s indictment, several state leaders, including the governor, called on him to step down. But Menendez is fighting hard against the allegations, even as colleagues turn on him.

Menendez has positioned himself as a victim, and has invoked identity politics in trying to defend himself. “It is not lost on me how quickly some are rushing to judge a Latino and push him out of his seat,” he said shortly after his initial indictment was announced. He has also accused “those behind this campaign” of smearing him as part of their political agenda: “For years, forces behind the scenes have repeatedly attempted to silence my voice and dig my political grave,” he said in a statement last month. “Menendez has been using explicitly Trump-y talking points in his defense,” my colleague David Graham, who has covered the Menendez charges, told me.

The Menendez imbroglio puts the Democrats in a difficult position. The party has enjoyed some moral high ground as Donald Trump faces various criminal indictments. But having a member of their own party facing such galling corruption charges—and saying in his own defense that, essentially, the deep state is out to get him—may not only undermine that high ground, David said. It may weaken Democrats’ case against Trump’s own statements about being the victim of deep-state machinations, and it could damage voters’ faith in the Democratic Party.

This is not Menendez’s first time facing federal bribery charges: In 2015, he was accused of receiving gifts and some $750,000 in campaign donations from a Florida eye doctor. Those charges resulted in a hung jury, and ultimately the judge declared a mistrial. Menendez was able to maintain his seat through the turmoil, and he denied any wrongdoing. His colleagues, by and large, stood by him. But this time, New Jersey Governor Phil Murphy called on Menendez to resign almost immediately after his indictment, and other state Democratic leaders soon followed. Cory Booker, the junior senator from New Jersey who has called Menendez a mentor and friend, urged his colleague to step down a few days after the indictment. Senator John Fetterman of Pennsylvania, meanwhile, has reportedly confronted Menendez in the halls of Congress (or, more precisely, on an escalator) to tell him to resign. More than half of Senate Democrats have called on Menendez to resign, though Senate Majority Leader Chuck Schumer has been more reserved. “The Senator has made it clear that he is innocent and will not resign from his position as the senior U.S. Senator for New Jersey,” Robert Julien, a spokesperson for Mendendez’s office, told me in an email.

Part of the reason that many of Menendez’s colleagues are turning against him this time, David explained, has to do with the relative severity of the charges. Bribery charges are never a great look, but the charges Menendez currently faces cut to the core of his committee work in the Senate, accusing him of using his position as the head of the Senate Foreign Relations Committee to work on behalf of a foreign power.

The calculations are likely political too: The last time Menendez faced bribery charges, Republican Chris Christie was the governor of New Jersey. If Menendez had given up his seat, Christie could have appointed a Republican in his place. Now the state has a Democratic governor in Murphy, who would presumably appoint a Democrat to replace him, David explained. Even so, Democrats are anxious about introducing uncertainty when they have such a razor-thin majority over Republicans in the Senate. Democrats have become more and more obsessed with beating their Republican opponents. That fixation on winning comes at a cost, David said: “If you are so focused on beating Republicans that you’re willing to look past corruption allegations, you ultimately undermine yourself, even if you can win the next election.”

But whether Menendez can actually win his next election is still a major question. He is a savvy backroom fighter, David explained, which has helped him stay in power in the cutthroat world of New Jersey politics. “There’s lots of backstabbing in ways that are totally legal, but not necessarily savory,” he said. Menendez has hung on through turbulence, but whether he can make it through this scandal intact will be, in part, up to the courts. It will also be up to voters.

Menendez’s trial is scheduled to begin on May 6, about a month before the primary race for his Senate seat. So far, Menendez has made no public indication that he won’t run for reelection. But his odds are not looking promising. He is being trounced in polls by Andrew Kim, a member of the House of Representatives who announced his campaign for Menendez’s seat the day after the senator was indicted. Menendez is innocent until proven guilty, but his constituents might just be ready to move on.

Related:

Bob Menendez never should have been senator this long in the first place. The case against Bob Menendez (From 2015)

Today’s News

A third former Trump-campaign lawyer, Jenna Ellis, pleaded guilty in the Georgia election-interference case. Israel escalated attacks on targets in Gaza, including a refugee camp. The Hamas-run Gaza Health Ministry said that more than 700 people were killed in a 24-hour period. House Majority Whip Tom Emmer has dropped out of the Speaker of the House race, just hours after becoming the nominee.

Evening Read

Fryderyk Gabowicz / picture-alliance / dpa / AP

Britney Finally Tells Her Story. It’s Dark.

By Spencer Kornhaber

One of the most disturbing parts of Britney Spears’s story has long been the way people talk about her. As soon as the pop star was released from the legal guardianship of her father in November 2021, ending a 13-year ordeal that she has described as torture, some onlookers asked whether one of the most successful women on Earth could handle living as an adult. In barroom chitchat, meandering podcasts, and online comment sections, you can now find people claiming that freeing Britney—allowing her to, for example, choose how she spends her money or what she eats for dinner—was a mistake. They cite alleged evidence of erratic behavior such as the recent video that the 41-year-old Spears posted of herself dancing sexily with prop knives.

Usually such skeptics speak in a conspiratorial tone, indicating that they think of themselves as radical truth-tellers defying the pink-uniformed groupthink of the #FreeBritney movement. But Spears’s new memoir makes clear that this shaming and second-guessing, using the language of care and concern, is deeply conventional. She portrays herself—including with the title The Woman in Me—as battling the media expectation that she remain trapped in girlhood, virginal and helpless.

Read the full article.

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A former inhabitant of the Chagos Archipelago—expelled when the U.S. built its military base there in the early 1970s—and his granddaughter in Port Louis, Mauritius. (Tim Dirven / Panos Pictures / Redux)

Read. A new book from Philippe Sands, The Last Colony, tells the story of the Chagossians, an island people who were expelled from their homes by the British and Americans.

Watch. The Pigeon Tunnel (streaming on Apple TV+) tries to capture the essence of John le Carré. It’s one of our critics’ 22 most exciting films to watch this season.

Play our daily crossword.

Katherine Hu contributed to this newsletter.

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The MAGA movement has been infused with violence and threats of violence for years. Those threats—now aimed at Republican lawmakers—are the new normal in the GOP.

First, here are four new stories from The Atlantic:

The hard truth about immigration A record of pure, predatory sadism Too many people own dogs. How the media got the hospital explosion wrong

Sleeping With a Gun by the Bed

The trash fire that is the Republican competition to elect the speaker of the House is entering a new phase now that Representative Jim Jordan of Ohio is out of the running. Nine men have put themselves forward; Representative Tom Emmer of Minnesota is the apparent favorite, at least for now. Of the nine, seven voted to overturn the 2020 presidential election. (Emmer and Representative Austin Scott of Georgia voted to certify the results.)

Before this contest moves into horse-race handicapping, we should revisit the astonishing stories from over the weekend about the threats made against Republican legislators during Jordan’s brief candidacy. CNN’s Jake Tapper, MSNBC’s Ali Velshi, and Aaron Blake at The Washington Post, among others, reported on these threats, but many Americans seem unable to muster more than a shrug and a kind of resigned acceptance that this is just how some Republicans are now. The only people who seem angry about this are the Republican lawmakers who, along with their families, received these threats.

Although Jordan repudiated these tactics, some of his colleagues blame him anyway, and Americans are now, as Blake wrote last week, in a “long-overdue” conversation about the role of threats in public life, one that “should include a recognition that these threats and intimidation can work, and probably have.”

That “conversation,” unfortunately, is unlikely to continue. Republicans have long feared their own voters, and have for years whispered about it among themselves. Now that Jordan has been defeated, they will likely go back to pretending that such threats are isolated incidents. But the threats during Jordan’s candidacy should confirm that Trump’s MAGA loyalists, firmly nested in the GOP, constitute a violent movement that refuses to lose any democratic contest—even to other members of its own party.

Some of these threats can be dismissed as the result of technology: The frictional costs of threatening people are basically nonexistent. Angry cranks once needed time and materials (envelopes and stamps, or at least a call to an information line) to say awful things. Today, people are surfing the internet with a smartphone—their personal secretary and valet—right by their side, so the interval between having a repulsive thought and expressing it to a target is now functionally zero.

But email and the internet, and political violence in the United States, have been around for a while. Only in the age of Trump have threats become a common part of daily American partisan politics. Almost anyone who is even remotely a public figure now gets them over almost anything, and Trump and his movement have gone quite far in killing any sense of shame for saying terrible things to other people or their families over political differences.

Not only does Trump expressly model this kind of behavior; he and his media enablers provide rationalizations for such threats. Ironically, many of these excuses were once associated with the violent far left a half-century ago: The system is rigged; democracy is a mug’s game; anyone who disagrees with you is an enemy; those in power will never give it up without being subjected to violence and intimidation. But much of it is also out of the far-right, fascist playbook: The elites are plotting against you; anyone who disagrees with you is obviously in on the plot; the only salvation is if We the People engage in violence ordained by God himself.

We’ve seen these illiberal, populist attitudes and beliefs before. What we have not seen in America until now is the capture of a major political party by this kind of paranoia and violence.

The threats around Jordan’s attempt to gain the gavel are also different because the people making them are reaching down into granular, inside-baseball GOP politics. In recent years, some MAGA adherents have made threats against their partisan opponents in order to defend Trump’s honor, or because they were convinced that the 2020 election was stolen. Now, however, the movement is turning on its own. Some people follow internal House conferences as if they are members of the caucus, and treat the election of a speaker—which is important, to be sure—as an existential battle.

Amazingly, these people made threats in support of … Jim Jordan. They are actually menacing other human beings over the ambitions of a loudmouthed, ineffectual member of Congress.

After threats over the speakership, what’s next? Death threats over who becomes deputy whip? Put the honorable Mr. Bloggs on the Rules Committee, or I’ll hurt your family? As the writer Eric Hoffer so presciently noted more than 70 years ago, decadence and boredom can be among the most useful raw materials for the construction of an authoritarian movement, and clearly, American society has plenty of both.

Many Republican legislators are scared, and they should be. Only 25 members of the House GOP conference voted against Jordan on the floor during the last round of voting. Many more opposed making him speaker; in a secret ballot, 112 of Jordan’s colleagues voted against him—which suggests that more than 80 of them feared doing so in public.

It’s not uncommon for members of Congress to vote one way among themselves and then cast a different vote on the floor, especially if the issue is one where the national party is at odds with the voters in a member’s district. Such political calculations, though sometimes distasteful, are common. But democracy cannot function if legislators feel that their lives—and those of their families—are in danger from their fellow citizens. No matter what happens with Trump and the MAGA cult, the Republican Party cannot go on this way, and some of the legislators who spoke up about threats during Jordan’s attempt to become speaker seem to know it.

What they are willing to do about it is less clear. But I wonder if the arrests and convictions for the January 6 insurrection are having their effect: One caller to a representative, after a string of f-bombs and barely veiled threats, made an effort to stipulate that he was speaking only of nonviolent harassment. Perhaps holding such people legally accountable for their actions—whether they intended violence or were just trying to throw a scare into others—might begin to reverse this trend.

Republican elected officials didn’t seem to care very much about such rhetoric when it was aimed at their opponents, and they were only briefly shaken on January 6, 2021, when a violent mob made clear that there was plenty of room reserved on the gibbet for Mike Pence and other Republican leaders. Perhaps they’ll take such threats more seriously now that their internal squabbles could lead to their wives having to sleep with a gun by the bed, but I suspect that the hyper-partisanship and stunning cowardice that brought the GOP to this moment will, as ever, win the day.

Related:

The new anarchy Only the GOP celebrates political violence.

Today’s News

Two more hostages were released by Hamas. The International Committee of the Red Cross said that it facilitated their release. The Philippines accused the Chinese coast guard of “intentionally” hitting its boats in a disputed area of the South China Sea. María Corina Machado won the Venezuelan opposition’s first presidential primary in more than a decade. If allowed to run, she will challenge President Nicolás Maduro in what he has promised will be an internationally monitored election next year.

Dispatches

Famous People: Lizzie Plaugic and Kaitlyn Tiffany try to find ghosts in Manhattan, but all they see is Anderson Cooper’s apartment.

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Watch. With Bad Bunny as the host, the weekend’s Saturday Night Live (streaming on Peacock) was defiantly bilingual—and all the better for it.

Play our daily crossword.

P.S.

A while back, I said that I would occasionally use this space to revisit some 1980s musical oddities. This week, I want to remind you how very political music videos could be in the Decade of Excess. You’ve probably seen the video for the 1986 Genesis hit “Land of Confusion,” which used Britain’s Spitting Image puppets to portray world leaders such as Ronald Reagan and Margaret Thatcher to trippy effect. Reagan made a lot of appearances in words and images in those days, including in Sting’s “Russians,” Men at Work’s “It’s a Mistake,” and others.

But for my money, the best video with a Reagan reference was made by Frankie Goes to Hollywood. Better known for its huge dance hit “Relax,” in 1984, the band recorded “Two Tribes,” a song about nuclear war. (I wrote about MTV’s nuclear genre here.) The video features two actors, one obviously Reagan, and the other—and this is the cool trivia part—meant to be the Soviet leader Konstantin Chernenko. The two of them beat each other up until the world explodes. The end.

But wait—who? Exactly. Chernenko was leader of the U.S.S.R. for all of 13 months, mostly as a seat warmer in ill health. History has forgotten him, but thanks to a video filmed at the right moment in time, he will live on, forever headbutting Reagan and biting the American president’s ear in an eternal arena match.

— Tom

Katherine Hu contributed to this newsletter.

When you buy a book using a link in this newsletter, we receive a commission. Thank you for supporting The Atlantic.

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Welcome back to The Daily’s Sunday culture edition, in which one Atlantic writer reveals what’s keeping them entertained. Today’s special guest is our supervisory senior associate editor Rachel Gutman-Wei, who works on our Science, Technology, and Health team. Rachel has reported on how handwriting lost its personality and made the case for eating raw batter. She also once ate an apple that had been sitting in the Atlantic offices for more than 400 days during the pandemic. (Those of us who know Rachel are a tad worried about her dietary choices.)

Rachel is currently forgoing social media in favor of the New York Times Games app, defending a high-fantasy series her friends are divided about, and regretting her decision to see the stage adaptation of Moulin Rouge.

First, here are three Sunday reads from The Atlantic:

Self-checkout is a failed experiment. A worthy heir to David Foster Wallace and Thomas Pynchon MAGA Bluey is stressing people out.

The Culture Survey: Rachel Gutman-Wei

Best novel I’ve recently read, and the best work of nonfiction: I loved the audiobook of Blake Crouch’s Recursion, a sci-fi novel in which a mysterious plague called “false memory syndrome” sweeps the globe. For one thing, it’s technically impressive: Crouch deftly handles overlapping, interdependent timelines and the intricate system of rules he sets up for the book’s universe. I also found it personally meaningful: I have a history of bad nightmares, and characters’ experiences with FMS, in which tragedies they vividly remember aren’t real to anyone else, made me feel deeply understood.

I don’t read many nonfiction books (I tend to think too hard about how I would’ve edited them), but this spring, I devoured Sabrina Imbler’s memoir, How Far the Light Reaches. Imbler gracefully weaves together stories from wildlife and their own life, and allows discomfort and beauty to inhabit the same page. More than one chapter made me stop reading to reconsider how I see both the natural world and the human one. [Related: The “mother of the year” who starved for 53 months]

A good recommendation I recently received: My colleague Marina Koren recommended Silvia Moreno-Garcia’s novel Mexican Gothic to me years ago, but I only got around to the audiobook this summer, and I loved it. The story, set in 1950s Mexico, follows a young socialite as she visits her cousin, who has married into a cold and reclusive English family that is most definitely hiding something. It’s delightfully, mysteriously creepy—spooky season is a great time to read it.

A quiet song that I love, and a loud song that I love: Earlier this year, I learned that some music I thought was quiet could be very, very loud. I managed to snag tickets to the Atlantis, a new venue in D.C. that holds fewer than 500 people, for a concert by the Head and the Heart. I’ve described their music to uninitiated friends as “chill” and “gentle,” but when the six-piece band crowded into that tiny space, the effect was overwhelming. I especially enjoyed screaming along during “Down in the Valley,” a song I used to think was a bittersweet lamentation for the parts of yourself you can’t change. Now I see it as a celebration of those parts.

I love just about any song I can belt along to, but my current obsession is Muna’s “I Know a Place.” It’s about finding somewhere you know you belong, and people who are there for you even when you’re hurting. I swear my soul left my body when I saw the song performed live. (If you were standing next to me at the Anthem that night, I most certainly stomped on your feet by accident while jumping three feet in the air, and I am very sorry.)

My favorite way of wasting time on my phone: I’m currently abstaining from social media, so the No. 1 way I’ve been turning my brain off is through the New York Times Games app. My mom, my sister, and I all wake up with Connections and Wordle and send one another our scores. I work on the medium and hard Sudokus in my downtime and play Spelling Bee with my husband over dinner. The games add a little quiet ritual to my day, and they feel unlike social-media time-wasting in two important ways: First, I’m very aware that I’m doing something meaningless. And second, you only get one of each puzzle a day, so there’s no risk of infinite scroll. [Related: The unspoken language of crosswords]

The last debate I had about culture: Last year, my friends got me into A Court of Thorns and Roses, a high-fantasy series by Sarah J. Maas that was all over BookTok. (I am not on TikTok, but my understanding is that ACOTAR, as we fans call it, is still quite prominent there.) I was recently on a hike with another friend, who said that she got midway through the second book before giving up in exasperation. She felt betrayed, because she’d been told that the books were literary (nope), feminist (hardly), wildly sexy (eh) vehicles of ingenious world-building (your mileage may vary). I grant my friend, who is a discerning reader, all of these points. But I would fight a Blood Duel to defend ACOTAR’s honor as an unfailingly entertaining set of page-turners, and I can’t wait for Maas to finish the next installment.

Something I recently revisited: My sister is a fierce fan of Moulin Rouge, the 2001 Baz Luhrmann film, so when I saw that the national tour of the stage adaptation was coming to D.C. this fall, I bought us tickets. By midway through the first act, when, instead of the movie’s melancholy-yet-defiant rendition of Randy Crawford’s “One Day I’ll Fly Away,” Satine sings Katy Perry’s “Firework,” we both realized that we’d made a terrible mistake. Things only went downhill from there; we lost it when, at the show’s emotional climax, Christian began singing Gnarls Barkley’s “Crazy.” My sister came over later that week to watch the original, and we both felt much better.

The last thing that made me cry: Moulin Rouge the movie.

The last thing that made me snort with laughter: Moulin Rouge the musical.

A poem, or line of poetry, that I return to: Tara Skurtu’s “Morning Love Poem” wrings my heart out like a sponge. Here are the opening stanzas:

Dreamt last night I fed you, unknowingly,

something you were allergic to.

And you were gone, like that.

You don’t have even a single allergy,

but still. The dream cracked.

The Week Ahead

Let Us Descend, a new novel by Jesmyn Ward, follows an enslaved woman who opens herself up to the spirit world (on sale Tuesday). [Plus: Read a short story adapted from it in The Atlantic.] Fingernails, a sci-fi romance film in which a woman explores whether you can love two people at the same time (limited theatrical release begins Friday) The limited-series drama Fellow Travelers follows two men who fall in love during the height of McCarthyism (premieres Friday on Showtime).

Essay

Melinda Sue Gordon / Apple TV+

A Slow, Staggering American Conspiracy

By David Sims

When the World War I veteran Ernest Burkhart (played by Leonardo DiCaprio) gets off the train in Osage County, Oklahoma, he is walking into the turn-of-the-century boomtown of Fairfax, a bustling throng of activity that has sprung up out of nowhere following the discovery of oil. Wandering salesmen press leaflets into his hand and promise he can get rich quick; luxurious automobiles buzz around, the atmosphere pulsing with a feeling of runaway success. But as Burkhart is driven by an Osage man named Henry out to the countryside through fields of pumping derricks, he asks whose land he’s on. “My land,” Henry says gruffly.

As it thrusts the viewer into this epic tableau, a world of sudden and overwhelming wealth at the start of the 20th century, Martin Scorsese’s Killers of the Flower Moon is suffused with the dreadful sense of storm clouds gathering on every horizon. Adapted from David Grann’s best-selling book, the film explores the history of the Osage Nation as it reaped the rewards of oil residing underneath its land and immediately found itself in the crosshairs of an overwhelming force: pioneering American exceptionalism, which Scorsese demands that the viewer recognize as brutal white supremacy.

Read the full article.

More in Culture

You can learn to be photogenic. Taylor Swift did what Hollywood studios could not. Pete Davidson might be the comedic hero we need now. No, really. Only Wes Anderson could have adapted Roald Dahl this way. Jesmyn Ward: “She Who Remembers” Why children are everywhere in Louise Glück’s poetry A poet reckons with her past. Nine books that push against the status quo An elegy for a late, great American composer Beware the language that erases reality. Poem: “Explaining Pain”

Catch Up on The Atlantic

What Sidney Powell’s deal could mean for the Fulton County case against Trump The annoyance economy How a common stomach bug causes cancer

Photo Album

Tourists take a boat ride through Pingshan Grand Canyon, in Hefeng County, China.(Ruan Wenjun / VCG / Getty)

A cranberry harvest in Massachusetts, a new science-fiction museum in China, and more in our editor’s selection of the week’s best photos.

Katherine Hu contributed to this newsletter.

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“I wonder whether the non-photographer can grasp the peculiar quality of the pleasure of being an amateur photographer,” Richard L. Simon, the co-founder of the publishing house Simon & Schuster, wrote in The Atlantic in 1942. Simon credits the camera itself with much of the joy of amateur photography:

Imagine, then, you unhappy non-photographers, a glorious piece of mechanism … that has within itself the ability to capture for posterity a baby’s smile, a setter at point, the kindly wrinkles of a grandfather … It can magnify a hundredfold the pollen on the rose petal. It can re-create the glistening of the snow and of the trees on a frosty February morning. No, it cannot tell you the time, but it can immortalize the scenes, the moods, even the overtones of daily life.

Simon’s love letter to the camera is a reminder that photography is as much about the mechanism as it is about the result. Today’s newsletter explores how we take photos, and how new technology can both dull and complicate the experience.

On Photography

You Can Learn to Be Photogenic

By Michael Waters

Hollywood invented the idea that some people naturally look better on camera. Don’t believe it.

AI Is About to Photoshop Your Memories

By Charlie Warzel

The smartphone camera roll is a digital diary. What happens when the images inside are more perfect than real?

Our Photo Editor’s Must-See Images

By Isabel Fattal

Alan Taylor on the visuals that have stuck with him

Still Curious?

Street photography from ’80s and ’90s New York: Armed with his camera and a collection of albums, Jamel Shabazz documented Black life in the city. The photography of Margaret Bourke-White: A small collection of the thousands of remarkable images she made over a lifetime

Other Diversions

Self-checkout is a failed experiment. The sociopaths among us—and how to avoid them If you ever speak in public, follow this advice.

P.S.

“The editor of the Atlantic wishes me to come down to earth,” Simon writes toward the end of his essay about the glory of the camera. He obliges by making a list of tips for readers hoping to become decent amateur photographers themselves. One good piece of advice: “Photography being mostly a study and rendition of lights and shadows, take your pictures before ten o’clock in the morning and after four o’clock in the afternoon.”

— Isabel