Last week, House Democrats voted on an amendment that would have cut $3.3 billion in annual US military aid to Israel from a State Department funding bill. The amendment was brought to the floor by Rep. Thomas Massie, an outgoing Republican from Kentucky. It failed 314-104, but 103 Democrats — nearly half of the House Democratic caucus — supported it, signaling a significant shift in the party’s longstanding support for aid to Israel.

In 2024, a similar vote came up in the House to cut military aid to Israel. Then, just 37 House Democrats voted for the measure. Now, two years later, 103 House Democrats voted to cut funding. That shift in support was accelerated after the October 7 Hamas attacks and Israel’s subsequent military campaign in Gaza, which has killed large numbers of Palestinian civilians. The debate is also playing out in Democratic primaries across the country. In New York and Colorado, Democratic socialist candidates who have sharply criticized Israel and opposed continued US military aid recently won House primaries.

Historically, Jewish Americans have overwhelmingly identified with and voted for the Democratic Party, while Democratic lawmakers have generally supported Israel and US military assistance to the country. In 2016, the Obama administration signed a 10-year memorandum of understanding (MOU) with Israel, committing the US to seek $38 billion in military assistance for fiscal years 2019 through 2028. Congress must vote to approve this funding, so the shift in Democratic support of Israel could have real consequences.

There is still a very strong support for Israel among many House Democrats, but the shifting views are notable. House Minority Leader Hakeem Jeffries opposed the Massie amendment, arguing that it was overly broad and could jeopardize humanitarian assistance. But in a letter addressed to his House colleagues he also called for a “major reset” in US policy toward what he described as Israel’s “far-right Netanyahu government.”

Today, Explained host Sean Rameswaram spoke with Democratic Rep. Brad Schneider, who represents Illinois’s 10th Congressional District, and remains a strong supporter of Israel.

Below is an excerpt of the conversation, edited for length and clarity. There’s much more in the full podcast, so listen to Today, Explained wherever you get podcasts, including Apple Podcasts, Pandora, and Spotify. 

Can you walk us through last week’s vote? You voted against the measure to cut aid to Israel, and a lot of your colleagues obviously did not. How did that play out for you?

Growing up in the ’60s, ’70s, and for the last 65 years, I fundamentally believe that the US-Israel relationship is important. I also believe that the aspiration for peace in the Middle East, not just between Israelis and Palestinians, but broadly throughout the region, is something that is in the United States’s interest and the interest of the people in the region. So this is not a new issue to me, and it’s something I thought long and hard about. 

Tom Massie doesn’t believe any of that. His intentions with this amendment were anything but pure. It was hastily crafted and poorly written. And one of the biggest issues with it is not only does it [not] address this 10-year memorandum of understanding, something negotiated by President Obama eight years ago, but there are also two years left on the MOU. 

It was a messaging bill and nothing more, and it was a negative message. I voted no because I think if we’re going to move toward peace, we need to do so in a constructive way. A lot of my colleagues were saying we need to send a message to the Netanyahu government.

I’ve been extremely critical of this government, their failure to address the settler violence in the West Bank, the failure to plan for a day-after in Gaza following what was a horrific war. If we’re going to move towards peace, if we’re going to find a path where Israelis and Palestinians can live side by side and the region can have the peace they deserve. Because we’re not just talking about Israelis and Palestinians; there’s progress being made between Lebanon and Israel in giving Lebanon, the people of Lebanon, the liberty and freedom they all deserve. 

Can I ask you if you still take money from AIPAC? And if so, how much?

I appreciate the support I get from people who care about the issues that I advocate for. So people who are pro-Israel, pro-US-Israel relationship are likely to support me because I’m pro-US-Israel, pro-US-Israel relationship. I’m also pro-addressing gun safety and reducing gun violence in this country. So I get the support of those groups. The support I get doesn’t determine my positions. I think my positions determine who supports me. 

Has your position on Israel shifted at all since October 7th, or at any point in your political career? And if so, can you tell us how?

So my position hasn’t changed because I’ve always been committed to promoting peace between Israelis and Palestinians and finding a path where both can live together, which I believe ultimately is two states: a Jewish democratic state of Israel, and a Palestinian state living side by side. My frustration with the current Israeli government has grown and continues to grow. Every conversation I have with them, whether it’s the US ambassador to Israel, whom I’ve had the privilege of working with many times, or my meetings with Prime Minister Netanyahu. I’ve had an engagement with the prime minister going back now for almost 30 years. But in the last several years, every single conversation I have with them talks about the need to address settler violence, the need to get humanitarian aid.

One of the things that I am proud of and will say loudly and proudly is that immediately after October 7th, as the war began, my team and I worked hard to push for humanitarian aid into Gaza to do everything we could to make sure that the civilians who were always caught in the middle of any war wouldn’t suffer more than they did. And the suffering was horrific. And I did challenge Israel when they made what I’ll call ill-conceived, ill-advised, in some cases illegal decisions to deprive humanitarian relief from entering Gaza. We pushed hard, and we worked with the Egyptians to get the Rafah crossing open. We pushed the Israelis to open the Karam Shalom crossing. And to not just get aid to those crossings, but get aid into and across the territories within Gaza.

Why are you so optimistic about the situation? 

I am always going to be optimistic. I have to hold onto that optimism for the prospects of peace because the alternative is too dark. And let’s separate the issue for folks living in the region and the folks living here. And for the Israelis and Palestinians, these are two peoples who are totally traumatized — traumatized not just over the last couple of years, but for decades. So I recognize the trauma that Israelis have and are experiencing, and I recognize the trauma that the Palestinians have and are experiencing. And that’s part of what I feel is my obligation: to hold onto that optimism and speak to a better future and work to try to find ways to bring the parties on both sides of the issue together to make the hard choices and take the risk to get to a path to peace.

So the reason I’m holding onto optimism — and it’s not 24/7; I have my moments when I am down and where I feel like the hill we’re climbing is just too steep — is you take a deep breath and you dig deep, and you say, I can’t give up on hoping and working towards peace because otherwise peace is never going to happen. And I want to find people who are like-minded.

And that is not just on the Israeli side of the equation. We have to find people on the Palestinian side, and for those on the Palestinian side, we have to find Israelis. And I meet, and I spend time with them on a regular basis. They come to my office. When I’m in the region, I talk to them. We have to strengthen and empower those voices who believe that peace will only come when the Israelis see the Palestinians as a people worthy of engagement and a shared future, and the Palestinians see the Israeli as a people worthy of engagement and a shared future, and recognize that until they get there, there’s no future for either side. We’ve got to have a path where both are pointing in the same direction.

There was an unintentionally revealing moment in acting Attorney General Todd Blanche’s confirmation hearing last week. After Sen. John Kennedy (R-LA) asked Blanche whether he and President Donald Trump are friends, the leader of the United States Department of Justice replied, “I’m his lawyer,” before correcting himself and saying he “was his lawyer.”

Blanche previously defended Trump in three criminal cases brought while the president was out of office, but he is emphatically not supposed to be Trump’s lawyer right now. As acting attorney general — Blanche currently leads the DOJ because the attorney general’s job is vacant and Blanche is the Senate-confirmed deputy attorney general (DAG) — Blanche’s client is the United States, not the person who happens to occupy the White House. 

But it’s easy to see why he misspoke: Blanche has largely acted as Trump’s hammer since he was confirmed as the DOJ’s No. 2 official, overseeing numerous prosecutions of Trump’s perceived enemies. Now Trump wants to promote him to the DOJ’s top job — a sign of Trump’s confidence in his former criminal defense lawyer turned personal enforcer.

It’s unusual for a president to put his own defense lawyer in such a powerful position — indeed, it’s unusual for a president to have a criminal defense lawyer at all. But Trump has a long string of attorneys who’ve defended him and his companies against an equally long string of criminal allegations ranging from tax fraud, to falsifying business records, to illegally taking classified documents, to charges arising from his failed attempt to steal the 2020 presidential election. 

And he’s put at least five of those criminal defense lawyers in top federal jobs. 

Trump’s decision to turn much of his criminal legal team into powerful government officials matters for two big reasons. The first is that two members of that team, Blanche and Solicitor General John Sauer, are leaders within the Justice Department. Next to the military, there is no more fearsome government institution than the DOJ, which has the power to arrest people and try them for federal crimes. 

The DOJ is supposed to exercise this authority with restraint — and often with restraints imposed by the Constitution itself — but Blanche has used the Justice Department’s power against Trump’s political enemies who appear to have committed no crime and removed constraints on Trump and his Justice Department, all while Sauer has worked consistently to convince the Supreme Court to remove other constraints on Trump.

Meanwhile, three of Trump’s former criminal lawyers, Emil Bove, Justin Smith, and Matthew Schwartz, now have lifetime appointments as US Court of Appeals judges, placing them one rung on the judicial ladder down from the Supreme Court. The judiciary, of course, is the branch of government that is supposed to prevent the president from breaking the law, so every Trump loyalist appointed to this branch weakens the remaining legal constraints on Trump and his administration.

Trump, of course, isn’t the only president to place close confidants in the Justice Department or the federal bench. President John F. Kennedy famously named his brother attorney general. President Lyndon B. Johnson appointed Abe Fortas, who represented him in a 1948 election dispute, to the Supreme Court in 1965.

But Trump’s decision to place someone willing to pursue his personal vendettas in charge of the Justice Department is, at the very least, a break with post-Watergate norms established to prevent the DOJ from becoming a political weapon. And Fortas, who resigned in disgrace after fewer than four years on the bench, is more of a cautionary tale than a model of good governance.

Although the current Supreme Court is dominated by conservative Republicans, some of these justices do break with Trump on questions that divide the Republican Party — such as whether Trump should unilaterally impose high tariffs on many nations. But if Trump gets to turn his personal cronies into justices, that could change quickly. A judiciary controlled by MAGA loyalists means that all remaining checks on Trump’s authority could end. Many of his former-lawyers-turned-appointees are already working to make an unchecked Trump administration a reality.

How are Trump’s former personal lawyers already reshaping American legal norms?

Smith, who worked on the Trump v. United States immunity case, was confirmed last month. And Schwartz, who worked on the false documents case that led to Trump’s conviction, joined the bench last week. So there’s not much to say about these two men’s record in federal office — yet.

But Blanche, Bove, and Sauer have all displayed ruthless cunning in their efforts to advance Trump and his causes.

Blanche has been DAG since March 2025, a role that oversees the federal government’s criminal prosecutions and its 93 regional US attorneys’ offices. He’s led the entire Justice Department since April, after former Attorney General Pam Bondi — another of Trump’s former personal lawyers — left office.

So Blanche oversaw several dubious federal prosecutions targeting people Trump perceives as enemies, including criminal proceedings targeting former FBI Director James Comey and current New York Attorney General Letitia James. There’s also evidence that Blanche has played an unusually direct role in the Justice Department’s decision to bring meritless charges against prominent Democrats.

In May 2025, for example, Newark Mayor Ras Baraka, a Democrat, showed up at an ICE detention facility in his New Jersey city and asked to tour it. He was briefly let inside the gate, where he was confronted by about a dozen law enforcement officers and asked to leave, which he did.

But then one of these officers received a phone call. A video, later submitted to a federal court, shows the officer turning to his colleagues after the call and announcing, “We are arresting the mayor right now, per the deputy attorney general of the United States.” That deputy attorney general, of course, was Blanche. (In a September court filing, DOJ confirmed that officers arrested Baraka “after consulting with the Deputy Attorney General.”)

Yet, despite Blanche’s apparent decision to personally order Baraka’s arrest, the DAG forgot to check whether Baraka had actually done something that could support criminal charges. The mayor was only charged with misdemeanor trespassing, and those charges were dismissed two weeks later. At the court hearing formally dropping these charges, a federal magistrate judge admonished prosecutors for “using the immense power of the government to pursue weak cases or to make examples without sufficient cause.”

Blanche also unsuccessfully attempted to establish Trump’s $1.776 billion “anti-weaponization fund,” which would have been used to distribute money to Trump’s allies — including, potentially, Trump supporters who participated in the January 6 attack on the US Capitol. Although the fund appears dead after it received bipartisan pushback in Congress, a DOJ press release announcing the fund said it was “established” by the attorney general, a role performed by Blanche, and that the fund would be administered by five people chosen by Blanche.

Before Trump took office, Bove was Blanche’s law partner. Shortly before Bove joined the bench, he briefly served as principal associate deputy attorney general — essentially the DAG’s top deputy, which meant that Bove was Blanche’s right-hand man. In that role, he was often described as Trump’s “enforcer.” 

Bove spent only about half a year as Blanche’s lieutenant, but he managed to spark a mini-revolt in one of the Justice Department’s most prestigious offices during his short tenure. After Bove ordered the DOJ to dismiss corruption charges against then-New York City Mayor Eric Adams “without prejudice,” a maneuver that would allow the charges to be reinstated if Adams did not cooperate with the Trump administration’s immigration crackdown, seven federal prosecutors resigned rather than comply with Bove’s order. 

One was Danielle Sassoon, a former law clerk to Justice Antonin Scalia, a conservative icon. Another, Hagan Scotten, wrote in his resignation letter to Bove that “I expect you will eventually find someone who is enough of a fool, or enough of a coward, to file your motion. But it was never going to be me.” Scotten clerked for Republican Chief Justice John Roberts and for future Republican Justice Brett Kavanaugh.

Meanwhile, a whistleblower complaint by another former DOJ lawyer claims that Bove said, in a meeting about a court decision halting some deportations, “that D.O.J. would need to consider telling the courts ‘fuck you’ and ignore any such order.”

Trump appointed Bove to the US Court of Appeals for the Third Circuit last September. Federal appeals courts typically spend months deciding cases, so his tenure on the Third Circuit has thus far been less eventful than his time at the DOJ. But there are early signs that he remains loyal to Trump even after moving into an independent branch of government. Bove attended a Trump rally in December, a highly unusual move for judges who are supposed to remain nonpartisan. And the background image on his iPhone is reportedly an image of a defiant Trump raising a fist, or at least it was months after he joined the bench.

That leaves Sauer, who, as solicitor general, is tasked with defending federal government programs in the Supreme Court. That includes the Trump tariffs that the Supreme Court struck down last winter, and Trump’s unconstitutional attempt to strip many newborn Americans of their citizenship.

Despite these losses, Sauer has an impressive winning record before the Supreme Court, largely because the Court is controlled by six Republicans who are highly sympathetic to Trump and his agenda. This is, after all, the same Court that said that Trump may use the powers of the presidency to commit crimes, after Sauer argued as much. 

Sauer has been particularly effective in persuading the Republican justices to block lower court rulings against Trump on the Court’s “shadow docket,” a once rarely used mix of emergency motions and other matters that became a routine part of Supreme Court litigation during Trump’s first term.

So Trump has taken several of his personal lawyers and transformed them into some of the most well-credentialed — and in some cases, the most powerful — figures in the legal profession. Thus far, the evidence suggests that these individuals remain loyal to Trump, even when they move into jobs that are supposed to be nonpartisan. Three of them already have lifetime appointments. 

Any nation governed by the rule of law must have government officials who will obey whatever constraints the law imposes — whether they be federal agency leaders who follow the law out of a sense of duty, or judges who rein in executive branch leaders who refuse to do so. Institutions like the Department of Justice also depend on informal norms, many of which are a response to similar abuses of power during the Nixon administration, that have long constrained federal prosecutors.

But Trump’s DOJ is often actively hostile to these norms, and the growing legal power of Trump’s personal lawyers is just the latest example. Their steady reshaping of the judiciary clears the way for a federal government that is not constrained by anything.

In 2019, the AI researcher Rich Sutton published a short essay called “The Bitter Lesson.” Seventy years of AI research, he argued, kept demonstrating the same thing: The most effective ways to train AI rely on raw, brute-force computing power — simply scaling up — rather than clever approaches built on human insight. It didn’t matter how elegant the researchers’ work was. More compute would win every time. It’s a bitter lesson because, well, no one wants to accept that even the best efforts can go unrewarded.

This summer, climate change has been teaching its own kind of bitter lesson. Last week smoke from out-of-control Canadian wildfires reached more than 120 million Americans, sending out air quality alerts across 18-plus states from Minnesota to Virginia. Those wildfires, which were made more likely by the effects of climate change, followed record-breaking heat waves in Europe that contributed to the deaths of thousands of people.

Disasters like these inevitably renew calls for climate action, but no current US emissions policy, no amount of carbon cutting now, could clear the air, just as nothing Europe has done on climate — and it has done more than any other region, at no small cost — could protect it from those killer temperatures. Not this summer, not this decade, not the one after. The steps countries take now to reduce carbon emissions, to mitigate climate change, will not protect them from the present-day effects of climate change.

That’s the bitter lesson of climate change, and 2026 is the summer it has become unignorable. The dangerous effects we’ve been warned about are here, locked in on every timescale that matters to the people living through them. We can’t prevent the worst from happening right now, so we need to figure out how we’re going to adapt to it. 

The smoke we can’t stop

Canadian wildfire smoke is as close to an unstoppable disaster as exists today. The fires are Canada’s, the ignition is mostly lightning, the fuel is a subcontinent of boreal forest no fire agency can manage, and the whole system sits outside US jurisdiction. While strategies like prescribed burning and forest thinning can help reduce the wildfires that crop up in the western US, the sheer scale of Canadian forests makes such management far more difficult, maybe impossible. There is no timescale on which American mitigation clears American air of Canadian wildfire smoke. 

What this means is that for this wildfire smoke, at this moment, adaptation may be all there is.

American law has already conceded the point. Under the Clean Air Act’s Exceptional Events Rule, a state can petition the Environmental Protection Agency to strike wildfire-smoke days from the record used to judge whether its air is legally clean. In other words, the official response to one of the country’s fastest-growing air-quality threats is to delete it from the ledger. 

It’s true that climate attribution science ties heat waves to warming with the highest confidence of any extreme, while wildfire is messier — a compound event filtered through ignition, fuel, and fire weather. But fire seasons are lengthening, fuels are drying, and the most extreme wildfire events on Earth more than doubled between 2003 and 2023. The pattern is intensifying fire in particular regions — the boreal north among them — and the smoke goes where the wind says.

And that smoke is worse than it looks. Wildfire PM2.5 — the microscopic particles that are particularly dangerous —  is roughly three to four times more toxic to the lungs, per unit of mass, than ordinary urban particulate matter. During major smoke events, pediatric asthma visits can spike by more than 30 percent, and Harvard researchers have found the cardiorespiratory damage persists for months after the sky turns blue again. That’s especially dangerous for vulnerable populations like babies and pregnant women.

We can’t affect the winds, we struggle to stop the fires, and any current attempt to reduce warming enough to make those infernos less likely won’t be felt for years. But that doesn’t mean we’re helpless to protect ourselves from wildfire smoke, any more than we are from extreme heat.

We can purify indoor air, and it costs less than you probably think. Strap four furnace filters to a box fan — creating a Corsi-Rosenthal box — and indoor PM2.5 drops by roughly half; in testing during actual wildfire smoke, a DIY unit cut fine particles by about 56 percent in a large room and close to 99 percent in a small sealed one.

For heat, the toolkit is even better known — and one of the best proofs it works is in, of all places, France. The historic 2003 heat wave killed some 15,000 people there, most of them elderly and alone. The national heat plan built in its aftermath — tiered alerts, registries of vulnerable residents, check-in calls, cool rooms — cut the death toll of comparable heat waves by roughly 90 percent: When France hit its all-time record of 114.8°F in 2019, fewer than 1,500 died, per the Christian Science Monitor. A recent European analysis estimates a rerun of 2003 would now kill 77 percent fewer people in France than in a world that never adapted.

So technologies exist to protect ourselves. What’s too often missing are the standards, money, and the drive to deploy protection before the disaster arrives instead of after.

Catching up to today

When it comes to wildfire smoke, some governments are ahead of the game — and some aren’t. Washington state, Oregon, and California now regulate outdoor workers’ smoke exposure by air-quality index, under rules like Cal/OSHA’s wildfire-smoke standard; California funds “clean air centers” with upgraded filtration where people can shelter on bad-air days; Colorado’s Clean Air for Schools program ships free HEPA units to K-12 classrooms. A purifier humming in a classroom is essentially doing for smoke what a cooling center does for heat.

When it comes to heat, some parts of Europe are catching up. Barcelona now runs a network of nearly 400 “climate shelters” — libraries, museums, retrofitted schoolyards — with the goal of putting one within a 10-minute walk of every resident. For the first time, the city is keeping libraries open through August to do it, which, as anyone who has visited Europe in the late summer knows, is no small thing.

So adaptation exists, and it is saving lives. But this summer has also shown what happens when cities, states, and countries aren’t ready. 

In the US, the Midwestern and Northeastern states that spent last week under smoke alerts have almost none of the protections against wildfire smoke that have become more common in Western states, and no one is required to build them, because the country has no enforceable national indoor air-quality standard at all. In Europe, national heat plans are still reluctant to reach for the most powerful tool on the shelf. About one European household in five has air conditioning, compared to nearly nine in ten in the US, in large part because much of the continent still treats the machine as a moral defect. 

In both cases, rich regions that have largely taken climate mitigation more seriously than some of their neighbors aren’t pursuing adaptations they need. Which really means not taking climate change as seriously as they should. 

Accepting the bitter lesson

For a generation, adaptation was the word climate advocates were often reluctant to say out loud. In his 1992 book Earth in the Balance, Al Gore called adaptation “a kind of laziness, an arrogant faith in our ability to react in time to save our skins.” (He later changed his mind.) And in fairness, “we’ll just adapt” has often been a delaying tactic, an easy out for polluters. 

But the ground has shifted under that caution, because the projections did exactly what projections are supposed to do: they came true. 

Longer fire seasons, deadlier heat waves, smoke reaching places that never used to see it — this summer is the confirmation. And that changes what seriousness requires. If you’ve spent decades warning people that the effects of climate change are coming, you can’t treat readying for those effects as a distraction from the real work. None of this argues for easing up on emissions — each ton that isn’t emitted is adaptation nobody has to build. But preparing for what you predicted is what believing your own prediction looks like.

For AI researchers, Rich Sutton’s lesson was bitter for a specific reason. Those who resisted its conclusion weren’t foolish; they resisted it because it seemed to undercut all their hard work. They resisted it because it didn’t seem fair, just as it’s not fair that countries and states that have in many ways done much to mitigate climate change find themselves just as vulnerable, if not more so, than peers that have done comparatively little. 

But here’s the other half of Sutton’s lesson: The researchers who accepted it won. They stopped defending their cleverness and built what worked. That option is open to climate politics too. The atmosphere isn’t fair, but it is consistent, and it will deliver next summer’s version of this one on schedule. We can be ready. The bitter lesson is only bitter until you have the will to act on it. 

A version of this story originally appeared in the Future Perfect newsletter. Sign up here!

Move over, Maine. A new Democratic primary has taken the crown as the country’s most dysfunctional.

In Wisconsin’s gubernatorial race, a crowded field of establishment-tied Democrats has been splitting the vote for months, giving democratic socialist Francesca Hong’s energetic campaign a lane to the nomination.

Recently, fearing Hong would lose the general election (and spooked by a seeming Republican effort to boost her chances), some in the party tried to coalesce around one candidate to stop her: lieutenant governor Sara Rodriguez. 

But that attempt disastrously backfired last week, when it turned out Rodriguez’s campaign had badly mismanaged its funds. It’s still not clear what happened, but the situation was so messy that she quit the race.

With Rodriguez gone, the two leading contenders appeared to be Hong and Mandela Barnes, the former lieutenant governor who was Democrats’ losing nominee for a Senate race in 2022. 

Yet, party bigwigs were unhappy with those options and coaxed a candidate who had already dropped out — Milwaukee county executive David Crowley — back into the race, even though the primary is only three weeks away. 

This weekend, Governor Tony Evers endorsed Crowley in a last-ditch attempt to stop Hong (and, apparently, Barnes) from winning the nomination. 

The chaos is all the more shocking, because the state party, until recently, was often cited as a national model for Democrats, with leaders and candidates successfully coordinating over multiple cycles in a long-term plan to undo years of Republican dominance. 

I asked Jessie Opoien, a reporter for the Milwaukee Journal Sentinel, to walk me through this dizzying sequence of events. How did the party find itself in this mess? Is Hong on a glide path to primary victory? And what awaits in the general election? Our conversation, which has been condensed and edited, is below.

Democrats began this race with optimism. Now, they’re a lot more worried.

Back before this primary began, what was the situation of the Wisconsin Democratic Party and the political status quo in the state?

Democrats were feeling more optimistic heading into this primary. We have a lot of really, really tight races here. But if you look at the past three state Supreme Court races, you had liberal candidates just really blowing it out of the water, no matter how much Republican money came in. Democrats came out feeling pretty happy about those races. 

Another significant element is new legislative maps that got passed. This would be the second state election where they’re running on those new maps. 

So, for the first time in 15-ish years, Democrats are actually within striking distance of getting a majority or, at least, taking one of the chambers — or getting closer to the point where they’re not completely irrelevant in the capitol.

And the congressional map, which gives Republicans a 6-2 advantage, hasn’t changed yet — but that’s something Democrats could do if they win a trifecta?

Yes, and some of the candidates running for governor have made that a priority.

How was Governor Evers viewed after his two terms?

We look at the Marquette University poll as our gold standard for approval ratings, and Evers is by far the most popular statewide politician they’ve polled, pretty much in the time of their existence. He’s been above 50 percent for pretty much all of his two terms.

That being said, there has been a little bit of friction, especially toward the end of the legislative session. The state had this large projected budget surplus that no one could agree on what to do with it. Evers and the Republican leaders of the legislature proposed this deal that included some tax relief and some school funding — and basically got no support from Democrats in the legislature. They’ve probably gotten past it, but you had people starting to become a little bit more willing to be publicly critical of him. 

The leading contenders to succeed Tony Evers

So, after Evers announces he isn’t running for another term, how does the race to succeed him kick off?

Early on, I think everyone was expecting the attorney general, Josh Kaul, to get in. He would have been the clear frontrunner, and we wouldn’t be in the situation we’re in right now. [Kaul eventually decided not to run.]

Sara Rodriguez, the lieutenant governor, was the first person to get in, but she did not come in as an automatic frontrunner. 

Mandela Barnes took a little bit longer to get in, but he did. He’s the former lieutenant governor who lost a Senate race against Ron Johnson in 2022.

David Crowley, Milwaukee county executive: I think everyone expected his campaign to take off more at the beginning than it did. Milwaukee has had some big moments while he’s been in office. I think people expected him to be possibly a frontrunner early on, and that didn’t necessarily materialize. 

Others who got in were state senator Kelda Roys and Joel Brennan, the Department of Administration secretary under Evers. And Missy Hughes, a state economic development official.

And state representative Francesca Hong, who came in very much as an underdog candidate, but whose campaign blasted off and gained a lot of traction in a way that, I think, a lot of people didn’t see coming.

Tell me what you’ve seen on the ground about Francesca Hong’s campaign.

She is absolutely running as a democratic socialist, but she’s talking to Trump voters about affordability and being left behind. She was one of the first ones to jump on the anti-data center sentiment. “Jump on” was probably the wrong word, because she was there before the publicity; it didn’t appear to be an opportunistic move.

I started noticing back in December that something felt different with her, just in terms of the fundraising events she was doing. She did a ramen pop-up, bringing back her restaurant specialties. [Hong was a chef and co-owned a restaurant.] She did these small and intimate but unique events, like karaoke and bingo — bringing people to do fun things, things you don’t necessarily see a candidate engaging in themselves

My anecdotal observation is: I see people that I went to high school with or that I know from my non-political life who are talking about her campaign. I just don’t see that, you know, ever, anywhere else.

When the Marquette polls came out early this year, it was really remarkable just how split the field was; the first place candidate had just 11 percent in one poll. There’s been very little polling lately, but the narrative until recently was that it was shaping up to be a three-way race between Hong, Barnes, and Rodriguez, right?

I think it was starting to feel that way.  

Mandela Barnes, it was harder to measure. He came in with the most name recognition, having been on the ballot as lieutenant governor and for the Senate race. More people had an opinion about him, because they at least had heard of him.

With Sara Rodriguez — there wasn’t a lot of public polling for us to look at. But, then, there started to be an attitude behind the scenes of: Is the frontrunner going to be a democratic socialist, and do Democrats want that? And if they don’t, do they need to start organizing around one candidate?

You started to see that around Sara Rodriguez. The first candidate who dropped out, Missy Hughes, got behind her the day she dropped out. 

Fundraising reports were due in a few weeks, and Sara Rodriguez announced she was going to put up a million-dollar ad buy. In this race, with this many candidates, no one has a lot of money, so a million dollars would have been a big deal. And she had an independent group that was putting ads up for her, too. 

So, everyone was like, “Oh wow, the momentum’s going in her direction, the money’s there, she’s picking up endorsements.” Then, David Crowley got out, pretty much right when that ad buy was announced, and endorsed her. And then, everything started falling apart. 

The Sara Rodriguez disaster and the David Crowley switcheroo

So, what happened to the Rodriguez campaign?

This was pretty much all starting last week. Sara Rodriguez has got this ad buy that’s supposed to be going up on TV. And we had heard some people starting to raise questions about, where is it?

Sunday night, about 9:30, Sara Rodriguez’s campaign puts out a press release, and they say that they fired her campaign manager, because they’ve discovered financial mismanagement. 

On Monday, she holds a press conference in her Madison office. Basically, she has no idea how much money she has, and the ad buy she thought she placed, there’s no money for it. She said she didn’t know if this was something done on purpose or if it was mistakes that were made. 

I asked how much she thought she had on hand when they made the million dollar buy. She said $1.5 million. So, we’re talking about maybe a difference of a million dollars.

So, it goes from “this is the candidate into the strongest position” to “this candidate maybe has some money, but we don’t really know how much, and also she’s got these debts.”

She was committed to staying in [at first]. But, it sounds like, as she continued to dig into whatever the problem was. everyone around her was saying her campaign was over, and she finally decided that was the case on Friday morning.

And then, we get this switcheroo.

Yeah, then, my colleague, Matt Smith, reported this first, but we all started talking to Democratic sources who told us there was an effort to try and get David Crowley back in the race. 

Because there was a question of, when Crowley dropped out and endorsed Rodriguez, was he brought in under false pretenses? I think he would not have gotten out, obviously, if he had a clearer picture.

So, that transitioned to: He’s only been out for a few days; he could get back in. 

And the key element that made this more of a story than just him getting back in was now having the governor’s endorsement. 

Had Evers endorsed Rodriguez before that?

No, he had not endorsed anyone. He had said throughout the race he wasn’t planning on getting involved, but that he might at some point.

So, can David Crowley, a candidate who was apparently polling nowhere, who actually quit the race — can he come back into contention with just three weeks left?

That’s a really good question. They’ve got to get on the air. They’ve got to get the money. If Evers would like to transfer over the hundreds of thousands to a million dollars he’s got in his campaign account, that would be a big help to David Crowley, or if unions who were backing Sara Rodriguez or hadn’t made an endorsement yet decided to get behind him. 

But he was polling below 5 percent. So, I don’t know. I just keep reminding myself, I guess, that all of this is occurring within the bubble of people who are actively paying attention to it right now. While the primary seems like it’s tomorrow, it is three weeks away, and there are many people who have not been paying attention. 

Why not Mandela Barnes?

Now, here’s the big question I’ve been confused by.

If the establishment is so worried about Francesca Hong, a democratic socialist, winning the nomination and losing the general, wouldn’t the thing to do be to coalesce around Mandela Barnes, who seems to be the other leading contender? Barnes had run before and lost, but it was in a tough cycle, in 2022, and it wasn’t by that much.

Instead, there’s what seems to me like a cockamamie scheme to get a candidate who had already quit the race to come back in weeks before election day. And that will make it a three-way race, which many people think will make it easier for Hong to win, with a plurality of the vote. So, what’s going on here?

You know, I don’t know if anyone has figured out the answer to that. 

Before Mandela Barnes even got in the race, there were a not insignificant number of Democrats who were urging him not to. It’s a question, I guess, of whether you think he got really close to beating Ron Johnson and just got out-campaigned, or if you think he came really close on something that he should have been able to pull off. He had money left over.

He got attacked in 2022 for some positions on policing that he had. So, is the main concern that he, like Hong, is too far left to win? 

I think it probably does have a lot to do with the policing stuff. If a Democrat is willing to say that they’re concerned about the electability issue, they usually point pretty quickly to the police rhetoric. 

Mandela distanced himself from that more in ’22, and he’s definitely distancing himself from it now, in a way that we haven’t seen from Francesca Hong.

But, just the fact that there’s a photo of him holding a t-shirt that says “abolish ICE.” These things exist, and they made for good campaign ad fodder in ’22. 

The other thing I’ve heard, that it is hard to assess the veracity of, is that he just hasn’t been performing as well in internal polls [of the general election] as people had hoped he would.

One of the Dem sources I spoke with on Friday who was pushing Crowley to get back said, “This was Mandela Barnes’s race to lose, and he’s been losing it.”

Tom Tiffany and the general election

Tell me about the general election and the presumptive GOP nominee, Rep. Tom Tiffany. What kind of Republican is he, and how formidable an opponent is he likely to be?

In Congress, he tends to rank as one of the more conservative Republicans — certainly within Wisconsin’s delegation. There was trepidation early on from Republicans, as he was getting ready to get into the race, I think, specifically about his positions on abortion. 

But, he didn’t have to deal with a primary, because he got the Trump endorsement and that got his opponents out of the way pretty quickly. So, he’s had a few months to just run some biographical ads that make him look like a folksy guy from Northern Wisconsin. They’re good ads, they’re him and his family, him and a dairy barn. He’s talking about things like data centers and home affordability. 

Wisconsin is an archetypal swing state. It voted for Trump two out of three times. What’s the current partisan mood there? Does a blue wave look plausible? 

If you look at polls, Trump’s popularity here is not good. Tariffs continue to be a question here, especially for farmers. I think last time we saw a poll, inflation, jobs, health insurance, education, those were the top concerns. The national economy, I imagine, will bear some weight here.

But, I expect it to be a close election. Democrats have been very optimistic because of the national environment, but realistically, Wisconsin is a lot closer than that. We elect Ron Johnson and Tammy Baldwin, we elect Donald Trump and Joe Biden. We’re not predictable.

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In January 2025, Linda-Gail Bekker stood inside a vaccine manufacturing plant and allowed herself to believe that the first HIV vaccine candidate conceived through African science and led by Africans might finally become a reality.

The vaccine would be built on mRNA technology, the same platform that had helped tame the Covid-19 pandemic. Bekker hoped it might finally crack the puzzle that had frustrated HIV researchers for more than four decades.

No virus has proved more evasive. Hundreds of HIV vaccines have entered testing; none has succeeded at providing durable protection against infection. And the need remains vast: In 2025, roughly 1.2 million new HIV infections were reported; anti-retroviral treatments have turned it into more of a survivable disease, but more than half a million people died from AIDS-related causes the same year. There is still no known cure.

So researchers like Bekker, an infectious disease specialist at the University of Cape Town, have more hope now, in part because there is finally a clearer idea of what an effective vaccine needs to do. It must coax the immune system into producing a particular type of protective antibody, a rare class of defender, capable of recognizing and disabling HIV despite the virus’s extraordinary diversity and rapid ability to mutate.

No one yet knows how to reliably do that. But mRNA is uniquely suited to the task of finding out, vaccinologists say. Thanks to the platform’s speed and flexibility, researchers can iterate rapidly through the otherwise laborious process of designing, testing, and refining the series of vaccine components needed to guide the body toward making those essential antibodies.

At the start of last year, Bekker and her colleagues were ready to put that strategy to the test. The clinical trial for their new mRNA-based HIV vaccine was just on the verge of enrolling its first participants. But the project depended on the same backing that had sustained HIV vaccine research for decades: US government funding. Washington had long supplied roughly 90 percent of the world’s investment in the field. Then President Donald Trump returned to office.

Within hours of his inauguration, Trump signed an executive order freezing foreign aid. The $45 million contract from the US Agency for International Development (USAID) that was supposed to fund clinical trials like Bekker’s disappeared, as did a web of other funds, many routed through the National Institutes of Health (NIH), that had helped fuel the field’s progress for years.

The timing could hardly be more cruel. After 40-odd years of chasing a shape-shifting foe, scientists believe they now know what kind of immune response an HIV vaccine must generate — and have in mRNA a powerful new tool for pursuing it. But just as many researchers have finally glimpsed a path to victory, the United States and much of the funding has pulled away from the fight. 

Pushing the envelope

From the outset, the target for preventing HIV was clear. Within a year of identifying the virus as the cause of AIDS in 1983, researchers had zeroed in on its envelope protein as the most promising point of attack for a vaccine.

Protruding from the virus’s surface in knobby clusters, the envelope protein acts like a molecular grappling hook, latching onto immune cells before pulling the virus itself inside. Without this feature, HIV cannot infect a cell.

Much as the coronavirus spike protein would later become the basis for Covid vaccines, this protein on the surface of HIV seemed an obvious bullseye. But identifying the target didn’t mean researchers could hit it. Most of what the immune system sees of the envelope protein is actually just a decoy. The parts that stick out and draw the strongest immune response are also its most changeable, differing from one strain to the next and mutating freely whenever antibodies close in, leaving the body to waste its firepower on a target that keeps slipping away.

Candidate vaccines kept making the same mistake. They would elicit plenty of antibodies, but not the kind that could keep up with the virus. Time and again, promising candidate vaccines generated excitement in the laboratory, only to come up empty when it mattered most in large-scale clinical testing.

The field’s fortunes started to change in the late 2000s when researchers began studying the small fraction of people living with HIV who developed antibodies capable of recognizing the virus’s concealed, conserved features. Though these hard-won antibodies came too late to protect their makers, they gave scientists a molecular blueprint for the defenses a vaccine would need to build.

As the field came to learn, these “broadly neutralizing antibodies” do not appear overnight but rather after years of battle with the virus. 

The challenge, then, was to design a vaccine that would not just trigger an immune response but guide a person’s immune system through the same evolutionary journey. This would require a succession of vaccine components to prompt a carefully choreographed process within the body, rather than the single, fixed target that suffices for shots against measles or hepatitis B.

It was a strategy rooted in rational design but dependent on trial and error. Progress would come through a steady stream of small proof-of-concept studies, each informing the next generation of vaccine candidates. Ordinarily, it would take at least a year — often longer — to manufacture and prepare each vaccine iteration before it could be tested in people. 

But then the Covid pandemic rocketed mRNA into the spotlight.

The mRNA advantage

mRNA technology upends the old recipe of vaccine development. Conventional shots work by showing the immune system a mugshot of the enemy: a killed or weakened germ, or one of its proteins, grown batch by batch in vats of cells or eggs. An mRNA vaccine takes a different route. Rather than supplying the mugshot, it supplies the instructions to draw one: a short, lab-printed strip of messenger RNA, the molecule cells normally use to ferry genetic directions from DNA to their protein-making machinery.

Inject the right sequence, and it will program the body’s own cells to become tiny factories, producing the target protein and presenting it to the immune system as if it were the real intruder. Because it is all just code, refining a design means editing text, not rebuilding a factory — the work of days, not months.

“We’ve been able to design vaccines in real time,” said University of Pennsylvania Perelman School of Medicine assistant professor Ted Kreider, who is a specialist in infectious diseases.

To HIV researchers, the appeal was obvious. HIV’s greatest weapon was its ability to shift and adapt. Now, at last, a vaccine could, too. 

The timing was ideal. Just as researchers were beginning to map the path to an effective vaccine, mRNA offered a way to move down that path at speed. With vaccine designs no longer bottlenecked by design and manufacturing, what once might have taken decades of stepwise vaccine development could, thanks to mRNA, be compressed into years.

Across a growing number of clinical trials, researchers are now testing different vaccine components, different sequences, and different delivery platforms, searching for the combination that most effectively nudges the immune system toward a truly HIV-thwarting response.

A paper published last month in Nature offered one such path forward, showing in monkeys that a painstaking sequence of eight shots could coax the immune system into producing potent antibodies capable of neutralizing a broad range of HIV strains. But even the study’s authors see a catch. “It’s still too many [shots] to be practical in humans,” said Dennis Burton, a professor of immunology and microbiology at Scripps Research who worked on the project.

Whether mRNA ultimately becomes the vaccine itself — or simply the tool that helps researchers discover it — remains an open question.

The fundamental challenge for now, after all, is vaccine design, notes Mark Feinberg, president and CEO of IAVI, a nonprofit research organization focused on developing vaccines against HIV. And for that task, he says, “the most obvious advantage of mRNA is simply the speed of getting an idea from the laboratory to the clinic.”

But if the technology reaches the finish line, researchers say it could offer other advantages as well. Because the protein is made inside the body’s own cells rather than in a lab, it folds and displays itself much as it would on the real virus, giving the immune system a more faithful target to train against. That way, when the real virus arrives, the body already knows its true face.

It also gives vaccine designers an unusual number of knobs to turn, notes Kristie Bloom, an mRNA vaccine researcher and molecular biologist at the University of Witwatersrand in South Africa. By altering the vaccine’s formulation, dose, or genetic design, researchers can shape not just the magnitude of the immune response but also its balance: favoring antibody-producing B cells, virus-killing T cells, or some mix of the two.

With mRNA, “there’s quite a bit of flexibility,” she said.

Not so fast

For all the putative upsides, however, mRNA does carry some baggage. There are concerns about public acceptance given the intense backlash and misinformation campaigns that followed the rollout of Covid-19 vaccines. And though those shots ultimately proved remarkably safe, with very low rates of serious side effects, a peculiar skin problem has emerged in early-stage trials of mRNA vaccine candidates for HIV specifically. 

In two separate trials reported last year, around one in 12 participants who received mRNA-based HIV vaccines manufactured by Moderna developed chronic urticaria, a form of persistent hives that in some cases endured for years. The vaccines encoded different portions of HIV’s envelope protein, yet both produced the same unexpected side effect.

The fact that the reactions appeared across distinct vaccine designs — but never before in Moderna’s other mRNA vaccine programs — has fueled suspicion that something about HIV’s envelope protein itself may be involved. Even so, no clear explanation has emerged. 

“We’ve ruled a bunch of things out,” said William Schief, a professor at Scripps Research’s department of immunology and microbiology who doubles as vice president for protein design at Moderna, “but there’s no smoking gun.”

Schief is continuing to investigate the source of the immune reactions. But not wanting an unresolved safety signal to bring the program to a halt, he and his collaborators have pressed ahead with lower-dose versions of the vaccine, betting that the hives will fade while the desired immune response remains intact. 

That strategy is now being evaluated in an IAVI-backed trial led by Bekker in South Africa. Known as IAVI G004, it has yielded encouraging early results. (Unlike the African-developed vaccine whose launch was derailed by the USAID funding freeze, this study is testing a different mRNA vaccine candidate, manufactured by Moderna.)

At the lowest dose tested, just one-tenth of the amount used in the original studies, the hives that had troubled earlier trials never materialized, Bekker said. Her team has since moved on to a somewhat higher dose, seeking the sweet spot between safety and immune potency. 

All of these discoveries and challenges along the way have helped map a path forward. “We know what we need to do,” said Barton Haynes, director of the Human Vaccine Institute at the Duke University School of Medicine. The task for them now is to move through the necessary iterations as quickly as the science — and the funding and political landscape — allow.

“A black hole”

When Bekker and her team learned about the sudden funding cut that would halt their African-designed, USAID-funded vaccine study in January 2025, they were already in Tanzania to prepare its launch. They immediately had to stop work on the project, which had been years in the making. “It was like falling into a black hole of depression,” she said. 

And the setbacks kept coming. With prominent vaccine critic Robert F. Kennedy Jr. overseeing US health policy, the federal government moved to undermine both vaccine science broadly and mRNA technology in particular.

The NIH, in addition to terminating dozens of smaller HIV-related grants, began winding down its flagship Consortia for HIV/AIDS Vaccine Development (CHAVD) program, which has long served as a cornerstone of global HIV vaccine research, while other federal agencies curtailed support for mRNA vaccine projects across multiple disease areas.

At the same time, South Africa, the continent’s leading center for biomedical research, found itself in the Trump administration’s crosshairs over allegations of anti-white discrimination. New federal research grants were no longer permitted to support collaborations with South African scientists, severing ties that had underpinned years of international HIV research.

“That’s a perfect storm to prevent us from building on the most exciting science HIV vaccines have had in 45 years,” said Mitchell Warren, executive director of AVAC, a nonprofit dedicated to HIV prevention access and policy. 

Yet for all the financial and political disruption, the scientific momentum hasn’t stopped. Philanthropic organizations and governments elsewhere have stepped up to help fill the funding gap, allowing key trials to move forward, although in scaled-down forms with more modest ambitions. 

The Africa-led effort that Bekker had dreamed of was salvaged, with emergency backing from the South African Medical Research Council, albeit in diminished form and built, in the end, on the same protein-based technology that mRNA was meant to leapfrog.

The only mRNA-based HIV vaccine study that is actually underway in Africa is IAVI G004: a program designed by US scientists, not by locals, and funded largely by the Gates Foundation.

A longtime backer of HIV research, that foundation is estimated to invest around $70 million annually — with $64 million being invested in 2022, and $70 million in 2026 — across a global portfolio of HIV vaccine programs. That’s a substantial sum, though only a fraction of the hundreds of millions of dollars once provided by the NIH, USAID, and other federal agencies. 

For now, some of that funding continues to flow. But even what remains is far from assured. The Trump administration’s proposed 2026 budget would slash the National Institute of Allergy and Infectious Diseases — the NIH institute that has long anchored HIV vaccine science — along with the Office of AIDS Research that coordinates HIV research across the entire NIH, leaving the field’s longer-term future in doubt.

“We’re not going to be able to fill the gap that’s been left by the US government,” said Nina Russell, director of TB & HIV research and development at the Gates Foundation. Still, she says, the foundation remains determined to keep the most promising vaccine programs moving forward: “We are super committed to it.”

All of these changes have left the research field daunted, but not hopeless. “It’s been a very disruptive time,” said Burton, who leads one of the CHAVD research hubs. But he remains convinced the field is on the right track. “The pieces of the puzzle are in place,” he said. “It’s obviously been a long, long journey, but you can begin to see the end.”

A higher bar

The funding crisis and political challenges are not the only forces reshaping HIV vaccine development.

For much of the HIV epidemic, which has killed over 40 million people worldwide, even a partially effective vaccine might have been enough to transform the course of HIV. Today, however, vaccine researchers are also competing against long-acting preventive drugs that can protect people for months at a time with just two injections. 

These drugs are an enormous step forward for HIV protection, but they also raise the standard the vaccine field must meet, Warren said. “The bar for a licensed vaccine that is going to have a public health impact has gotten much higher,” he said.

But these prophylactic drugs, which began as daily pills and have evolved into long-acting injectables, are only as good as the systems that deliver them. Cost, stigma, and the need for regular clinic visits have limited access in many countries with the highest HIV burdens. A vaccine, by contrast, that provided years of protection after a handful of doses could overcome many of those barriers.

That is precisely why many scientists view the current retreat of the US government with such alarm. After decades of disappointments and billions of dollars in investment, the field finally believes it has a coherent strategy for building an effective HIV vaccine. The fear is that momentum could stall just as researchers have begun to see a path across the finish line. As a result, what once seemed like a scientific problem increasingly looks like a political one.

For Bekker, the current moment feels all too familiar. In the early 2000s, South Africa’s government embraced AIDS denialism, delaying the rollout of lifesaving treatments and forcing researchers and clinicians to battle both the virus and the state. A quarter-century later, she says, the political opponent has merely changed address to Washington, DC, threatening once again to undermine the fight against HIV and cost countless lives.

“When politics interferes in science,” Bekker said, “that is the death of scientific progress.”

Bekker still does not know whether the vaccine she watched being manufactured last year will ever reach the people it was designed to protect. She and her colleagues still hope to carry out the made-in-Africa mRNA vaccine trial they spent years designing — if they can find a way to pay for it. But Bekker remains convinced that the scientific strategy behind it is the right one, and that mRNA may yet do for HIV what it did for Covid-19, rapidly transforming decades of scientific groundwork into an effective shot.

She only hopes politics does not succeed where HIV itself has failed in slowing the field’s progress. “We should only be fighting the virus,” Bekker said. “But we’re fighting the administration and its policies, and that is a waste of our energy.”

Defense Secretary Pete Hegseth said the war with Iran is now expected to cost Americans $37.5 billion, up from a $29-billion estimate in early May.

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This story appeared in Today, Explained, a daily newsletter that helps you understand the most compelling news and stories of the day. Subscribe here.

President Donald Trump seemed visibly irked when asked about his plans for Iran on Tuesday. “You don’t know anything,” he snapped at a reporter who said Iran showed no signs of deescalating. 

You have to forgive the man his vexation — he is in something of a bind. The war in Iran, never popular to begin with, has only become more of a lemon since a tenuous ceasefire collapsed earlier this month. In the two weeks since, Iran has bombarded targets across the Middle East with missiles and drone strikes. The onslaught badly damaged US bases and, just last week, killed three American soldiers’ lives.

Now Iran and its allies, metaphorically drunk on their recent successes (…alcohol is technically illegal in Iran!), appear to be revving for a new round of attacks. Iran launched strikes on Kuwait, Jordan, and Bahrain this week, reportedly targeting both US bases and civilian infrastructure. And on Monday, Yemen’s Iran-backed Houthi militia also threatened to shut down a second key waterway that could further strain global oil markets. 

The world is running out of soldiers

The latest US casualties are a grim reminder that — for all the talk of drones and precision missiles — wars are still fought by actual, human people. 

But major military powers are running short on soldiers: The US, the United Kingdom, Germany, and Japan have all recently struggled to recruit troops. And the forces driving that shortage aren’t easily reversed. 

For starters, falling birth rates and aging populations have left many countries with fewer military-age adults. Being the right age is also only half of the equation. In the US, factors including weight, drug use and physical or mental health conditions would disqualify an estimated three-quarters of young Americans from military service.

Then there’s the military’s image problem: Polls show that young people around the world are becoming less willing to fight for their respective countries. And young Americans, in particular, have more negative views of both the military and the war in Iran than do their parents or grandparents.

There is another way to fill the ranks, of course…but it isn’t popular. The US ended its draft in 1973, and most Western militaries have similarly transitioned to all-volunteer forces. If the US did ever need to restart its draft, both the politics and the logistics could prove formidable. 

One link for later

➨ Treat yourself to a froyo. The go-to dessert of my misspent 20s is apparently very much back in vogue. But this time, it’s less about the zany flavors and maximalist toppings and more about wellness buzzwords like…protein and probiotics. Hmmmm. 

Before you go…

• Did you know…that carrots don’t actually improve your vision? The myth originated as part of a World War II propaganda campaign to conceal Britain’s development of radar technology.
• Today’s trivia: How many countries are in North America? Don’t look it up — just guess! (Our daily trivia generally comes from Vox’s daily crossword, but today’s tidbit comes from my colleague Sean Rameswaram.) 
• Yesterday’s trivia: Yesterday I asked you to name the Mesoamerican civilization that spoke Nahuatl. That would be the Aztecs — though 1.5 million people in central Mexico still speak the language now.

Welcome to The Logoff: President Donald Trump announced giant new tariffs on Canada, which are scheduled to start in 30 days. Now negotiators from both countries are scrambling to see if they can be avoided.

What happened? Late on Monday, the White House announced 50 percent tariffs on a slew of Canadian goods — including whiskey, cheese, down jackets, and (naturally) hockey sticks. Because the Supreme Court sharply limited his tariff powers earlier this year, Trump is invoking a largely forgotten and possibly defunct authority under Section 338 of the Tariff Act of 1930.

Previously, these goods had been covered under the USMCA, the trade deal Trump negotiated with Canada and Mexico in his first term to replace NAFTA. But on July 1, the agreement expired and the US declined to renew it. 

Why is Trump doing this? The White House claimed three key grievances: Canadian duties and restrictions on American alcohol, dairy products, and automobiles. Liquor appears to be a special irritant: All but two Canadian provinces have pulled US-made booze from government liquor stores, and even some Democrats have complained.

However, the alcohol boycott began as retaliation for the trade war Trump launched in early 2025, when he was talking regularly about Canada becoming America’s 51st state. Much like his effort to reopen the Strait of Hormuz, Trump is trying to fix a problem he caused in the first place.

Interestingly, the tariffs will not go into effect for 30 days. This suggests that they may be less a serious policy initiative than a negotiating tactic. 

What’s the takeaway: Trump’s lifelong fascination with economic warfare has survived the Supreme Court’s rebuke, and he continues to fixate on Canada as a special target of his ire. It is unclear why; both countries have suffered from the breakdown in bilateral relations. 

But whatever the motivation, the ultimate outcome is clear: Icy relations to the north are a permanent fixture of the Trump presidency.

And with that, it’s time to log off…

The Odyssey officially had the biggest opening of any live-action movie of the year, as the new Avengers: Doomsday trailer is greeted with yawns. Here’s to the new MCU: the Mycenaean Cinematic Universe.