Euronews Culture sat down with celebrated US documentary filmmaker Frederick Wiseman to talk about his stunning film 'Menus-Plaisirs - Les Troisgros', his love of French food, and wanting to film in the White House.

The former US president has been sharing his annual lists since he was in the White House – and his tastes are, if we may say so, dependably excellent.

Editor’s Note: Washington Week With The Atlantic is a partnership between NewsHour Productions, WETA, and The Atlantic airing every Friday on PBS stations nationwide. Check your local listings or watch full episodes here.

In this year-end episode, some of the contributors to the The Atlantic’s January/February issue forecast what a second Trump term might look like. For the magazine, 24 Atlantic writers––experts in foreign and domestic policy, economics, and national security––examined Trump’s record and his recent statements, and wrote about what they believe his agenda would be in a theoretical second term.

Joining editor in chief of The Atlantic and moderator, Jeffrey Goldberg, this week to discuss this and more are McKay Coppins, staff writer at The Atlantic and author of Romney: A Reckoning; Franklin Foer, staff writer at The Atlantic and author of The Last Politician: Inside Joe Biden’s White House and the Struggle for America’s Future; Adrienne LaFrance, executive editor of The Atlantic; and Clint Smith, staff writer at The Atlantic and author of How the Word Is Passed: A Reckoning With the History of Slavery Across America.

Read the full transcript here.

The White House previously warned it would “run out of resources” for Kyiv “by the end of the year”.

The funds are the final tranche of aid the White House can allocate without fresh approval from Congress.

Editor’s Note: Washington Week With The Atlantic is a partnership between NewsHour Productions, WETA, and The Atlantic airing every Friday on PBS stations nationwide. Check your local listings or watch full episodes here.

On Tuesday, Colorado’s Supreme Court disqualified Donald Trump from the state’s primary ballot after determining that his actions on January 6, 2021, made him ineligible under the U.S. Constitution’s insurrection clause.

The Colorado court’s actions come on the precipice of another tumultuous year in politics, one featuring a general election and a likely rematch of the 2020 race between the former and present U.S. presidents.

Joining editor in chief of The Atlantic and moderator, Jeffrey Goldberg, this week to look back at 2023 and discuss what to expect in 2024 are Lisa Desjardins, correspondent at PBS NewsHour; Adam Harris, staff writer at The Atlantic; Zolan Kanno-Youngs, White House correspondent at The New York Times; and Susan Page, Washington bureau chief at USA Today.

Read the full transcript here.

But ex-prosecutors say the tactic could create a "hot mess" for him in the 2024 White House race.

Let us be thankful for the AI industry. Its leaders may be nudging humans closer to extinction, but this year, they provided us with a gloriously messy spectacle of progress. When I say “year,” I mean the long year that began late last November, when OpenAI released ChatGPT and, in doing so, launched generative AI into the cultural mainstream. In the months that followed, politicians, teachers, Hollywood screenwriters, and just about everyone else tried to understand what this means for their future. Cash fire-hosed into AI companies, and their executives, now glowed up into international celebrities, fell into Succession-style infighting. The year to come could be just as tumultuous, as the technology continues to evolve and its implications become clearer. Here are five of the most important questions about AI that might be answered in 2024.

Is the corporate drama over?

OpenAI’s Greg Brockman is the president of the world’s most celebrated AI company and the golden-retriever boyfriend of tech executives. Since last month, when Sam Altman was fired from his position as CEO and then reinstated shortly thereafter, Brockman has appeared to play a dual role—part cheerleader, part glue guy—for the company. As of this writing, he has posted no fewer than five group selfies from the OpenAI office to show how happy and nonmutinous the staffers are. (I leave to you to judge whether and to what degree these smiles are forced.) He described this year’s holiday party as the company’s best ever. He keeps saying how focused, how energized, how united everyone is. Reading his posts is like going to dinner with a couple after an infidelity has been revealed: No, seriously, we’re closer than ever. Maybe it’s true. The rank and file at OpenAI are an ambitious and mission-oriented lot. They were almost unanimous in calling for Altman’s return (although some have since reportedly said that they felt pressured to do so). And they may have trauma-bonded during the whole ordeal. But will it last? And what does all of this drama mean for the company’s approach to safety in the year ahead?

An independent review of the circumstances of Altman’s ouster is ongoing, and some relationships within the company are clearly strained. Brockman has posted a picture of himself with Ilya Sutskever, OpenAI’s safety-obsessed chief scientist, adorned with a heart emoji, but Altman’s feelings toward the latter have been harder to read. In his post-return statement, Altman noted that the company was discussing how Sutskever, who had played a central role in Altman’s ouster, “can continue his work at OpenAI.” (The implication: Maybe he can’t.) If Sutskever is forced out of the company or otherwise stripped of his authority, that may change how OpenAI weighs danger against speed of progress.

Is OpenAI sitting on another breakthrough?

During a panel discussion just days before Altman lost his job as CEO, he told a tantalizing story about the current state of the company’s AI research. A couple of weeks earlier, he had been in the room when members of his technical staff had pushed “the frontier of discovery forward,” he said. Altman declined to offer more details, unless you count additional metaphors, but he did mention that only four times since the company’s founding had he witnessed an advance of such magnitude.

During the feverish weekend of speculation that followed Altman’s firing, it was natural to wonder whether this discovery had spooked OpenAI’s safety-minded board members. We do know that in the weeks preceding Altman’s firing, company researchers raised concerns about a new “Q*” algorithm. Had the AI spontaneously figured out quantum gravity? Not exactly. According to reports, it had only solved simple mathematical problems, but it may have accomplished this by reasoning from first principles. OpenAI hasn’t yet released any official information about this discovery, if it is even right to think of it as a discovery. “As you can imagine, I can’t really talk about that,” Altman told me recently when I asked him about Q*. Perhaps the company will have more to say, or show, in the new year.

Does Google have an ace in the hole?

When OpenAI released its large-language-model chatbot in November 2022, Google was caught flat-footed. The company had invented the transformer architecture that makes LLMs possible, but its engineers had clearly fallen behind. Bard, Google’s answer to ChatGPT, was second-rate.

Many expected OpenAI’s leapfrog to be temporary. Google has a war chest that is surpassed only by Apple’s and Microsoft’s, world-class computing infrastructure, and storehouses of potential training data. It also has DeepMind, a London-based AI lab that the company acquired in 2014. The lab developed the AIs that bested world champions at chess and Go and intuited protein-folding secrets that nature had previously concealed from scientists. Its researchers recently claimed that another AI they developed is suggesting novel solutions to long-standing problems of mathematical theory. Google had at first allowed DeepMind to operate relatively independently, but earlier this year, it merged the lab with Google Brain, its homegrown AI group. People expected big things.

Then months and months went by without Google so much as announcing a release date for its next-generation LLM, Gemini. The delays could be taken as a sign that the company’s culture of innovation has stagnated. Or maybe Google’s slowness is a sign of its ambition? The latter possibility seems less likely now that Gemini has finally been released and does not appear to be revolutionary. Barring a surprise breakthrough in 2024, doubts about the company—and the LLM paradigm—will continue.

Are large language models already topping out?

Some of the novelty has worn off LLM-powered software in the mold of ChatGPT. That’s partly because of our own psychology. “We adapt quite quickly,” OpenAI’s Sutskever once told me. He asked me to think about how rapidly the field has changed. “If you go back four or five or six years, the things we are doing right now are utterly unimaginable,” he said. Maybe he’s right. A decade ago, many of us dreaded our every interaction with Siri, with its halting, interruptive style. Now we have bots that converse fluidly about almost any subject, and we struggle to remain impressed.

AI researchers have told us that these tools will only get smarter; they’ve evangelized about the raw power of scale. They’ve said that as we pump more data into LLMs, fresh wonders will emerge from them, unbidden. We were told to prepare to worship a new sand god, so named because its cognition would run on silicon, which is made of melted-down sand.

ChatGPT has certainly improved since it was first released. It can talk now, and analyze images. Its answers are sharper, and its user interface feels more organic. But it’s not improving at a rate that suggests that it will morph into a deity. Altman has said that OpenAI has begun developing its GPT-5 model. That may not come out in 2024, but if it does, we should have a better sense of how much more intelligent language models can become.

How will AI affect the 2024 election?

Our political culture hasn’t yet fully sorted AI issues into neatly polarized categories. A majority of adults profess to worry about AI’s impact on their daily life, but those worries aren’t coded red or blue. That’s not to say the generative-AI moment has been entirely innocent of American politics. Earlier this year, executives from companies that make chatbots and image generators testified before Congress and participated in tedious White House roundtables. Many AI products are also now subject to an expansive executive order.

But we haven’t had a big national election since these technologies went mainstream, much less one involving Donald Trump. Many blamed the spread of lies through social media for enabling Trump’s victory in 2016, and for helping him gin up a conspiratorial insurrection following his 2020 defeat. But the tools of misinformation that were used in those elections were crude compared with those that will be available next year.

A shady campaign operative could, for instance, quickly and easily conjure a convincing picture of a rival candidate sharing a laugh with Jeffrey Epstein. If that doesn’t do the trick, they could whip up images of poll workers stuffing ballot boxes on Election Night, perhaps from an angle that obscures their glitchy, six-fingered hands. There are reasons to believe that these technologies won’t have a material effect on the election. Earlier this year, my colleague Charlie Warzel argued that people may be fooled by low-stakes AI images—the pope in a puffer coat, for example—but they tend to be more skeptical of highly sensitive political images. Let’s hope he’s right.

Soundfakes, too, could be in the mix. A politician’s voice can now be cloned by AI and used to generate offensive clips. President Joe Biden and former President Trump have been public figures for so long—and voters’ perceptions of them are so fixed—that they may be resistant to such an attack. But a lesser-known candidate could be vulnerable to a fake audio recording. Imagine if during Barack Obama’s first run for the presidency, cloned audio of him criticizing white people in colorful language had emerged just days before the vote. Until bad actors experiment with these image and audio generators in the heat of a hotly contested election, we won’t know exactly how they’ll be misused, and whether their misuses will be effective. A year from now, we’ll have our answer.

The Supreme Court’s upcoming decision about the most common pharmaceutical used for medication abortions may be just the beginning of the political battle over the drug.

Earlier this month, the Supreme Court agreed to hear an appeal of lower-court rulings that would severely reduce access to mifepristone. The Court’s acceptance of the case marked a crucial juncture in the legal maneuvering over the medication.

But however the high court rules, pressure is mounting inside the GOP coalition for the next Republican president to broadly use executive authority at the Food and Drug Administration and the Justice Department to limit access to mifepristone and to reduce what abortion opponents call “chemical abortion.”

“Chemical abortion will be front and center and presented front and center by the pro-life movement if there is a Republican president,” Kristan Hawkins, the president of Students for Life of America, told me. “There is going to be a lot of action we want to see taken.”

The possibility of new executive-branch restrictions on abortion drugs, which are now used in a majority of all U.S. abortions, underscores the stakes over abortion in the 2024 presidential election. Even if Donald Trump or another Republican wins back the White House next year, they might not have enough votes in Congress to pass a nationwide ban on the practice. But through executive action, the next GOP president could unilaterally retrench access to mifepristone in every state, however the Supreme Court decides the current case. Multiple former FDA officials and advocates on both sides of the issue told me that through regulatory and legal actions by the FDA, the Justice Department, or both, the next Republican president could impose all the limits on access to mifepristone that anti-abortion groups are seeking in the lawsuit now before the high court.

[Read: Abortion is inflaming the GOP’s biggest electoral problem]

“The FDA is a highly regulated space, so there are a lot of hoops they would have to jump through,” Jeremy Sharp, the FDA’s deputy commissioner for policy planning, legislation, and analysis during part of Barack Obama’s second term, told me. “But if they got a commissioner in there that was ideologically motivated, and if they changed the staff leadership, then there’s a lot they could do before anybody could get in the way and stop them.”

The growing Republican focus on using executive-branch authority against abortion access marks a new front in the broader political confrontation over reproductive rights. While Roe v. Wade was in place, the social conservative movement was focused overwhelmingly on trying to reverse the nationwide right to abortion and “wasn’t zoned in on this issue” of federal regulatory authority over abortion drugs, Hawkins noted.

Medication abortion involves two drugs: mifepristone followed by misoprostol (which is also used to prevent stomach ulcers). From 2000 through 2022, almost 6 million women in the U.S. used mifepristone to end a pregnancy, according to the FDA. In all those cases of women using the drug, the agency has recorded only 32 deaths (including for reasons unrelated to the drug) and a little more than 1,000 hospitalizations. The risk of major complications has been less than half of 1 percent.

Neither of the past two Republican presidents acted against the drugs administratively or even faced sustained pressure from social conservatives to do so. The FDA initially approved mifepristone for use in abortion during the final months of Bill Clinton’s presidency, in 2000. But during Republican President George W. Bush’s two terms, the FDA made no effort to rescind that approval.

During Obama’s final year, the FDA significantly loosened the restrictions on usage of the drug. (Among other things, the agency reduced the number of physician visits required to obtain the drugs from three to one; increased from seven to 10 the number of weeks into a pregnancy the drugs could be used; and permitted other medical professionals besides physicians to prescribe the drugs if they received certification.) During Trump’s four years, the FDA did not move to undo any of those decisions.

But the right’s focus on abortion drugs has significantly increased since Trump left office. According to Hawkins, one reason is that the COVID pandemic crystallized awareness of how many abortions are performed remotely with the drugs, rather than in medical settings. Even more important may have been the decision by the six GOP-appointed Supreme Court justices in 2022 to overturn Roe. By fulfilling the top goal of anti-abortion activists, that decision both freed them to concentrate on other issues and raised their ambitions.

In one measure of that growing zeal, social conservative groups and Republican elected officials have pushed back much harder against Joe Biden’s attempts to expand access to mifepristone than they did against Obama’s moves. Under Biden, the FDA has eliminated the requirement for an in-person visit to obtain mifepristone; instead it allows patients to get a prescription for the drug through a telehealth visit and then receive it through the mail. The FDA under Biden has also allowed pharmacies that receive certification to dispense the drug.

As I wrote earlier this year, the paradox is that Biden’s rules will be felt almost entirely in the states where abortion remains legal. Almost all red states have passed laws that still require medical professionals to be present when the drugs are administered, and, even though the FDA allows their use through 10 weeks of pregnancy, the drugs cannot be prescribed in violation of state time limits (or absolute bans) on abortion.

Shortly after last November’s midterm election, an alliance of conservative groups sued in federal court to overturn not only Biden’s measures to ease access to the drug but also the changes approved in 2016 under Obama, and even the decision under Clinton in 2000 to approve the drug at all.

[​​Read: Why Trump might just roll to the presidential nomination]

In April 2023, Judge Matthew J. Kacsmaryk, a Trump appointee and abortion opponent, ruled almost entirely for the plaintiffs, striking down the Biden and Obama regulations and the FDA’s original approval of the drug. In August, a panel of three Republican-appointed judges on the Fifth Circuit Court of Appeals upheld Kacsmaryk’s ruling overturning the Obama and Biden regulatory changes. But the panel, by 2–1, ruled that it was too late to challenge the drug’s original approval.

The Supreme Court along the way blocked the implementation of any of these rulings until it reached a final decision in the case, so mifepristone has remained available. In its announcement earlier this month, the Court agreed to hear appeals to the Fifth Circuit decision erasing the Obama and Biden administrations’ regulatory changes but declined to reconsider the circuit court’s upholding of mifepristone’s original approval. Those choices have raised hopes among abortion-rights activists that the Court appears inclined to reverse the lower court’s ruling and preserve the existing FDA rules. “We are very hopeful this is an indicator the Court is not inclined to rule broadly on medication abortion and they are concerned about the reasoning of the decisions [so far],” said Rabia Muqaddam, a senior staff attorney at the Center for Reproductive Rights, a group that supports legal abortion.

But the legal process has shown that even a Supreme Court decision maintaining the current rules is unlikely to end the fight over mifepristone. The reason is that the proceedings have demonstrated much broader support in the GOP than previously for executive-branch action against the drug.

For instance, 124 Republicans in the House of Representatives and 23 GOP senators have submitted a brief to the Supreme Court urging it to affirm the Fifth Circuit’s ruling overturning the Obama and Biden actions on mifepristone. “By approving and then deregulating chemical abortion drugs, the FDA failed to follow Congress’ statutorily prescribed drug approval process and subverted Congress’ critical public policy interests in upholding patient welfare,” the Republican legislators wrote. Republican attorneys general from 21 states submitted a brief with similar arguments in support of the decision reversing the Obama and Biden administrations’ regulatory actions.

In another measure, a large majority of House Republicans voted last summer to reverse the FDA’s decisions under Biden that expanded access to the drugs. Though the legislation failed when about two dozen moderates voted against it, the predominant support in the GOP conference reflected the kind of political pressure the next Republican president could face to pursue the same goals through FDA regulatory action.

Simultaneously, conservatives have signaled another line of attack they want the next GOP president to pursue against medication abortions. In late 2022, the Justice Department’s Office of Legal Counsel issued an opinion that the Postal Service could deliver the drugs without violating the 19th-century Comstock Act, which bars use of the mail “to corrupt the public morals.” That interpretation, the opinion argued, was in line with multiple decisions by federal courts spanning decades that the law barred the mailing of only materials used in illegal abortions.

Conservatives are arguing that the next Republican administration should reverse that OLC ruling and declare that the Comstock Act bars the mailing of medications used in any abortions.

The fact that both Kacsmaryk and Circuit Court Judge James Ho, also appointed by Trump, endorsed that view in their rulings on mifepristone this year offers one measure of the receptivity to this idea in conservative legal circles. As telling was a letter sent last spring by nine GOP senators to major drug-store chains warning that they could be held in violation of the Comstock Act not only if they ship abortion drugs to consumers but even if they use the mail or other freight carriers to deliver the drugs to their own stores.

Trump and his leading rivals for the 2024 GOP nomination, Florida Governor Ron DeSantis and former South Carolina Governor Nikki Haley, have avoided explicit commitments to act against medication abortions. But all of these efforts are indications of the pressure they would face to do so if elected. Hawkins said that anti-abortion groups have chosen not to press the candidates for specific plans on regulatory steps against mifepristone but instead intend to closely monitor the views of potential appointments by the next GOP president, the same tactic signaled by the senators in their letter to drug-store chains. “It will make for probably the most contentious fight ever over who is nominated and confirmed” for the key positions at the FDA and other relevant agencies, Hawkins told me.

Stephen Ostroff, who served as acting FDA commissioner under both Obama and Trump, told me that future Republican appointees would likely find more success in reconsidering the regulations governing access to mifepristone than in reopening the approval of the drug altogether this long after the original approval. Even reconsidering the access rules, he predicts, would likely ignite intense conflict between political appointees and career scientific staff.

“I think it would be challenging for a commissioner to come in and push the scientific reviewers and other scientific staff to do things they don’t think are appropriate to do,” Ostroff told me. “You’d have to do a lot of housecleaning in order to be able to accomplish that.” But, he added, “I’m not saying it is impossible.”

In fact, political appointees under presidents of both parties have at times overruled FDA decisions. Kathleen Sebelius, the Health and Human Services secretary for Obama, blocked an FDA ruling allowing the over-the-counter sale of emergency contraception to girls younger than 17; the Biden White House has delayed an FDA decision to ban the sale of menthol cigarettes, amid concerns about a possible backlash among Black voters.

Many legal and regulatory experts closely following the issue believe that a Republican president’s first target would be the FDA’s decision to allow mifepristone to be prescribed remotely and shipped by mail or dispensed in pharmacies. To build support for action against mifepristone, a new FDA commissioner also might compel drug companies to launch new studies about the drug’s safety or require the agency’s staff to reexamine the evidence despite the minimal number of adverse consequences over the years, Sharp told me.

Faced with continuing signs of voter backlash on efforts to restrict abortion, any Republican president might think twice before moving aggressively against mifepristone. And any future attempt to limit the drug—through either FDA regulations or a revised Justice Department opinion about the Comstock Act—would face an uncertain outcome at the Supreme Court, however the Court decides the current case. The one certainty for the next GOP president is that the pressure from social conservatives for new regulatory and legal action against mifepristone will be vastly greater than it was the most recent two times Republicans controlled the executive branch. “We want all the tools in the tool kit being used to protect mothers and children from these drugs,” Hawkins told me. Amid such demands, the gulf between the FDA’s future decisions about the drug under a Republican or Democratic president may become much wider than it has been since mifepristone first became available, more than two decades ago.

When I review divided appellate-court decisions, I almost always read the dissenting opinions first. The habit formed back when I was a young law student and lawyer—and Federalist Society member—in the late 1980s, when I would pore (and, I confess, usually coo) over Justice Antonin Scalia’s latest dissents.

I came to adopt the practice not just for newsworthy rulings that I disagreed with, but for decisions I agreed with, including even obscure cases in the areas of business law I practiced. Dissents are generally shorter, and almost always more fun to read, than majority opinions; judges usually feel freer to express themselves when writing separately. But dissents are also intellectually useful: If there’s a weakness in the majority’s argument, an able judge will expose it, sometimes brutally, and she may make you change your mind, or at least be less dismissive of her position, even when you disagree. Give me a pile of Justice Elena Kagan’s dissents to read anytime—I love them even when she’s wrong, as I think she often is. You can learn a lot from dissents.

Last night, I reviewed the three separate dissents in Anderson v. Griswold, the landmark 4–3 Colorado Supreme Court case holding that Section 3 of the Fourteenth Amendment prohibits Donald Trump from ever serving again as president of the United States. I had been skeptical of the argument, but not for any concrete legal reason. To the contrary, I believed the masterful article written by the law professors (and Federalist Society members) William Baude and Michael Stokes Paulsen had put the argument into play. And I had read (not to mention heard, at length, on the phone) and took quite seriously what my friends Judge J. Michael Luttig and Professor Laurence H. Tribe had to say about it here in The Atlantic—that the Fourteenth Amendment clearly commands, in plain language, that Trump never hold federal office again.

[David Frum: The Colorado Supreme Court just gave Republicans a chance to save themselves]

Their points were strong. But much as I never want to see Trump near the White House again, I wasn’t quite buying them. The argument seemed somehow too good to be true. And frankly, from a political standpoint, it would be better for the country if Trump were thrashed at the polls, as I think he ultimately would be. There had to be a wrinkle. I just knew it.

But last night changed my mind. Not because of anything the Colorado Supreme Court majority said. The three dissents were what convinced me the majority was right.

The dissents were gobsmacking—for their weakness. They did not want for legal craftsmanship, but they did lack any semblance of a convincing argument.

For starters, none of the dissents challenged the district court’s factual finding that Trump had engaged in an insurrection. None of the dissents seriously questioned that, under Section 3 of the Fourteenth Amendment, Trump is barred from office if he did so. Nor could they. The constitutional language is plain. You can’t be president if you previously took an oath “as an officer of the United States … to support the Constitution of the United States” but “engaged in insurrection or rebellion” against, or have “given aid or comfort to the enemies of,” that Constitution or the nation it charters.

Nor did the dissents challenge the evidence—adduced during a five-day bench trial, and which, three years ago, we saw for ourselves in real time—that Trump had engaged in an insurrection by any reasonable understanding of the term. And the dissenters didn’t even bother with the district court’s bizarre position that even though Trump is an insurrectionist, Section 3 doesn’t apply to him because the person holding what the Constitution itself calls the “Office of the President” is, somehow, not an “officer of the United States.”

[Adam Serwer: The Colorado Ruling Calls the Originalists’ Bluff]

Instead, the three dissenters mostly confined themselves to saying that state law doesn’t provide the plaintiffs with a remedy. But that won’t help Trump. This case seems headed for the Supreme Court of the United States, which has no authority to make definitive pronouncements about state law. In Colorado, the Supreme Court of Colorado has the last word on that. And it now has spoken.

Yet even the dissenters’ contentions about state law made little sense. Chief Justice Brian Boatright argued that, while Colorado law requires its secretary of state to examine the constitutional qualifications of presidential candidates, it doesn’t allow her to consider whether they are constitutionally disqualified.

Nothing in the state statute suggests that’s the case, and it’s plainly illogical. Every qualification necessarily establishes a disqualification. If the Constitution says, as it does, that you have to be 35 years of age to serve as president, you’re out of luck—disqualified—if you’re 34 and a half. By the same token, if you’ve engaged in an insurrection against that Constitution in violation of your oath to it, you’ve failed to meet the ironclad (and rather undemanding) requirement that you not have done that.

Boatright’s suggestion that the insurrection issue presents something too complex for Colorado’s election-dispute-resolution procedures is equally unconvincing. Reviewing the tabulation of statewide votes can be complicated—remember those Florida “chads” in 2000?—but the courts have to get it done, and quickly. It’s hard to imagine that assessing the undisputed record of Trump’s miscreance presents any more complexity than that.

And no stronger is Justice Carlos Samour’s suggestion that Trump was somehow deprived of due process by the proceedings in the district court. This was a full-blown, five-day trial, with sworn witnesses and lots of documentary exhibits, all admitted under the traditional rules of evidence before a judicial officer, who then made extensive written findings of fact under a stringent standard of proof. Every day in this country, people go to prison—for years—with a lot less process than Trump got here. As for the expeditiousness of the proceedings, that’s in the very nature of election disputes: Recall, once again, Florida in 2000. And Samour’s suggestion that Trump was denied a fair trial because he didn’t have a jury is almost embarrassing: Any first-year law student who has taken civil procedure could tell you that election cases are not even close to the sort of litigation to which a Seventh Amendment jury-trial right would attach.

[Donald Ayer: The Trump Prosecutions Are Cause to Celebrate the Rule of Law]

The closest the dissents come to presenting a federal-law issue that ought to give someone pause comes in Samour’s argument that Section 3 is not self-executing—that it can’t be enforced unless Congress passes a law detailing how it can be enforced. The majority opinion, though, along with Paulsen and Baude and Luttig and Tribe, have disposed of that argument many times over. All you need to do is to look, as any good Scalia-like textualist would, to the words and structure of the Fourteenth Amendment.

True, Section 5 of the amendment gives Congress the power to enact enforcement legislation. But nothing in the amendment suggests that such legislation is required—that Section 3 (or any other prohibition in the amendment) has no teeth unless Congress implants them. To hold otherwise would mean that Section 1 of the Fourteenth Amendment—which contains the more familiar prohibitions against state deprivations of equal protection and due process—would likewise have been born toothless. Which would mean that, if every federal civil-rights statute were repealed tomorrow, states could immediately start racially resegregating their schools. That’s not the law, and thankfully so.

So the dissents showed one thing clearly: The Colorado majority was right. I dare not predict what will happen next. But if Trump’s lawyers or any members of the United States Supreme Court want to overturn the decision, they’d better come up with something much, much stronger. And fast.