These cold-blooded killers were probably as warm-blooded as mammals, according to new research.
© Stephanie Abramowicz/Stephanie Abramowicz, Dinosaur I
Why do I cry when I see a donkey?
It’s completely involuntary. As if my heart’s defenses are swept aside by a giant wave of compassion and I’m left unnerved by the intensity of love that I feel: raw and a little foreign.
I wonder about this because I’m not a big animal guy. There’s no desire in me to own a pet; I’m allergic to cats and I will actively do what I can to avoid meeting your dog. (Sorry! It’s the nonconsensual licking! The crotch jumping! No thank you.) And yet, there I’ll be: leaning over a fence, arm outstretched to let the donkey nuzzle my open hand, feeling a sudden and desperate sadness.
It’s happened so often that I wonder if these encounters point to something precious. The tears suggest that there’s a mismatch between the way I’ve been taught to understand animals as separate from myself and the connection that actually exists between us. Our paradigm of anthropocentrism distinguishes us from the natural world and puts us on a pedestal of worthiness, forcing us to look at the whole of nature as somehow less real than we are. Each animal and plant, the land and the water, the very air we breathe — all are resources for us to use rather than beings to be in relationship with.
But the donkeys keep disrupting that notion.
Even if those sad Eeyore-like eyes don’t make you emotional, you have probably experienced some version of it. For many pet owners (and notice how that language of ownership emphasizes the idea of separation!), it may be a creeping uncertainty about the validity of the love that they feel for their pet. You might ask yourself, “Am I crazy to love an animal this much? Is this feeling of mutual friendship and understanding actually real?”
This week, dear friends of mine had to put down their dog. Like most dog owners, they understood their pup to be a part of their family. And so the intensity of their grief — and the heavy burden of having to decide whether the time had come to say goodbye — opened up not just emotional questions, but spiritual ones, too. Is it wrong to euthanize a family member you love? What happens to a dog when it dies? Does your dog have a soul?
Your deep connection to your animal companion might also make you question your relationship to and understanding of other animals: How is it that my beloved has a soul, but a pig or a cow or a bird does not? To kill one animal but to love another demands significant mental gymnastics. The modernist, mechanistic view of the world where humans are separate and death is the end doesn’t hold true to my experience. And so perhaps it is wise to look at spiritual traditions that affirm the ways the animate and inanimate are connected.
The idea that animals are not equal to humans is rooted in a dominant refrain in Christian theology — which David Clough, chair in theology and applied sciences at the University of Aberdeen in Scotland, says has done great disservice to animals. Significant church figures like Thomas Aquinas and the philosopher René Descartes have argued that animals don’t have an immortal soul. Other doctrines like predestination (where some people are chosen for salvation and others are damned) have further broken the world into separate spheres. This stratification of significance, where humans sit above everything — from the stones and stars to the pets we share our homes with — has led to a paradigm where we’ve been able to desecrate the natural world and continue to practice cruel factory farming, killing hundreds of millions of animals every day.
But this particular Christian worldview isn’t the only way to think about a spirituality of animals.
Indeed, says Clough, in the first centuries of Christian life, theologians like Irenaeus and Origen imagined a very different ordering of the world. Rather than envisioning a judgment that separates us, these early thinkers believed God would regather the whole of creation in what Clough calls “a comprehensive redemption.” Here, because God created the world, all of life will one day be regathered together, including the pets we love and the places we live. At the end of time, the thinking went, all of life will be embodied once again, but free from pain and suffering.
Maybe that’s what I long for when I see those donkeys: a union of all living things, free from pain and suffering.
David Haberman, professor emeritus at Indiana University who studies South Asian religious traditions, tells me that a Hindu worldview sees humans and animals as inherently connected. He points to the concept of Ātman, which dates back thousands of years: “Some translate it as soul, some translate it as self, some translate it as the ultimate essence. I think all those work in various ways, but the notion is that it’s shared amongst all beings,” he says.
This worldview enables us to see “the self present in all beings and all beings in the self. … So whatever happens to a human happens to a dog, whatever happens to a dog happens to a human.” Haberman says that this ontology establishes a “deep connection between all things and a recognition that it’s the same essence.” So, whether canine or human, individual souls are described in the Bhagavad Gita as “eternal, immortal, and ageless. It is not destroyed when the body is destroyed.”
Other spiritual practitioners are of the same mind. Susan Allen is a medium who specializes in communicating with pets that have died. It wasn’t a career she was planning on, but her intuitive and sensitive nature has meant many grieving dog owners seek her out when their pup passes away. Allen believes animals have a continuation of consciousness that transcends death.
“The body leaves and dies,” she says, “but the soul stays with us.” Allen says she senses messages and emotional states that pets want to share with their former owners — usually feelings of gratitude and love, a message that is especially consoling for those who had to make the decision to end the pet’s life amidst increased suffering. Though there is great sadness when a pet dies, it is, Allen says, “the consequences of living with so much love.”
Maybe that’s what holds me back from welcoming an animal into my home. Sure, there is the hair that gets everywhere and the picking up of poop and the need for walks at all hours of the day — but I suspect there’s a big part of me that recoils from the inevitability of grief that loving an animal so deeply will lead to. I became a vegetarian when I left home and started to cook my own meals and found it difficult to put a knife through the flesh of a chicken or a fish. That decision seemed to open a window into seeing the truth of our interconnectedness.
Perhaps that’s what so many traditions try to help us realize: that we are part of one another. All living things are inherently bound together. Separation is an illusion that fuels harm. “At its best, a relationship with a companion animal is a sort of anticipation of a sort of redeemed future where humans and other animals will live peaceably together,” Clough says. “A companion animal relationship could be a small anticipation of that sort of restored mutuality of relationship.”
Haberman agrees. “It doesn’t have to stop with dogs,” he says. Though we may start by loving a pet, we must embrace an “ever expanding circle of love.” When we embrace our interconnectedness, we embrace something sacred. The love that exists between a human and their animal can be a bridge to a redemptive love for all living things; for every animal; for the very fullness of life itself.
On stage at Davos in the Swiss Alps earlier this year, Bill Gates, before an audience of the global do-gooding elite, announced a $50 million partnership between his foundation and an unlikely new ally, OpenAI, aimed at improving healthcare in Rwanda.
Just a month earlier, the Gates Foundation had released a harrowing report about widespread global health cuts and collapsing foreign aid infrastructure, documenting a rise in child deaths for the first time this century. But at Davos, even as the US hemorrhaged funding for vaccines, maternal healthcare, and HIV treatment, the Microsoft co-founder struck an optimistic tone.
“Using innovation, using AI,” Gates told Reuters, “I think we can get back on track.”
As it turns out, the partnership was just an opening salvo for what’s become a wholesale embrace of AI by the world’s largest global health philanthropy. A $200 million partnership with Anthropic came just a few months later. And then, on Tuesday, the Gates Foundation announced a plan to dole out a jaw-dropping $1 billion over the next two years for scaling up AI interventions across healthcare, education, and agriculture around the world.
The sense that AI will soon change everything, and mostly for the worse, has perhaps never felt so pressing and alarming as it does right now. But this hefty new commitment is premised on the idea that AI could eventually make our lives much better too. In a country like America, AI requires massive investments and buildout — in the grid, in power, in technology, in water. In many parts of Africa, already infrastructure-poor, the foundation is effectively betting that AI can compensate for some of the infrastructure that isn’t in place or that has been lost — and offer a new layer that can help in education, in delivering healthcare, and more.
The Gates Foundation’s new commitments include projects to improve how farmers analyze their crops, how doctors diagnose patients, and how students learn. Some have already proven to be quite effective, according to the foundation, with one tool improving the accuracy of medical diagnoses by 16 percent across several Kenyan clinics. “In poorer countries with enormous health worker shortages and lack of health systems infrastructure,” Gates wrote on his blog earlier this year, “AI can be a game-changer in expanding access to quality care.”
Last year’s foreign aid cuts were unfathomably destructive for some of the world’s poorest countries, shuttering thousands of clinics and perhaps hundreds of thousands of classrooms in places where critical workers and supplies were already stretched thin. No, AI cannot deliver a baby, administer a vaccine, or manage a classroom — not yet, at least — but it can, the Gates Foundation hopes, help ease the burden and augment the quality of care for nurses and teachers now tasked with serving far more people than any one person should.
“This is the most transformative technology of our lifetime,” Mark Suzman, CEO of the Gates Foundation, told me, and while there are “very real risks and challenges” surrounding AI, it also presents genuine opportunities to tangibly improve many people’s lives.
It is a tantalizing premise: We can’t afford to build clinics, hire teachers, or lay new power lines, but perhaps AI could create the digital infrastructure needed to help billions of people do more with what they have — or rather, with what’s left. The question is, can the right layer of innovation help bolster a buckling system, even as the physical and logistical infrastructure surrounding it crumbles?
Most Americans have yet to see AI improve their lives in meaningful ways, much less those living in poverty or in countries where only a sliver of the population has ever used ChatGPT.
But those numbers in the developing world are slowly changing, a shift enabled in part by other global health funders convinced that as foreign aid dries up, AI could soon help the world do more with less. The Trump administration itself is on board with this thinking, so long as it benefits American tech companies. Last year, the State Department announced a $150 million partnership with the drone company Zipline to transport medical supplies in several countries.
To Zipline’s credit, an NPR reporter in Rwanda last month found that the company’s drones were already saving lives in places with poor road infrastructure, where driving to the nearest hospital can take hours on winding hills, but where drones can deliver crucial blood transfusions within minutes.
And yet, for Rwandans to benefit fully from these high-tech deliveries, they need staffed clinics to visit. As a result of foreign aid cuts, some of those literal landing spots are now on the verge of closing in some of the nation’s most vulnerable rural corridors. “Without the underlying infrastructure, like roads, energy and power and unless there is accessibility, rural and otherwise,” Enoh Ebong, president of the global development department at the Center for Strategic and International Studies, told NPR, “then all of these solutions will stop short.”
But just as medical delivery drones still need a clinic to fly to, most of these interventions require some layer of physical infrastructure — roads, schools, power, and quite obviously, broadband — to function. Satellite imagery shows that some rural communities in sub-Saharan Africa quite literally went dark in the aftermath of USAID cuts. It will be much harder for their kids to prompt an AI math tutor, or for a local farmer to download a weather app.
“We’re seeing this very much as a both/and,” Suzman told me, calling more traditional funding for education and healthcare “the bedrock for long-term economic growth,” which AI is meant to supplement, not replace. But, in practice, foreign aid cuts have left serious cracks across much of that bedrock, which could make it harder for state-of-the-art solutions to function as intended.
It is obviously not incumbent on the Gates Foundation to pay for all of this alone – nor would it even be feasible for them to do so. And for the record, plenty of the foundation’s other grant programs are not AI-related at all. But this tension does speak to a broader question that may be felt most acutely in a context like global health, but ultimately one that touches us all: Do we spend our scarce resources on the digital infrastructure of the future at the peril of our needs right now? Could you justify buying the new $1,999 folding iPhone if you can barely afford to buy groceries?
The answer is not actually always an easy one. It is not for us to say, for example, that just because a community lacks reliable running water, its people should be excluded from the benefits (and encumbrances) of the smartphone, especially if that smartphone can connect them to health advice they could never access otherwise, or guidance that could help them survive a drought.
In some parts of the world, digital forms of banking arrived long before local brick-and-mortar branches did, instantaneously connecting countless people to a cheap and secure way to save and send their cash to family and friends in need. It is certainly possible that AI, or at least the kind of applications the Gates Foundation funds, could one day have a similarly transformative effect on how people access personalized levels of care, education, and other services in places without the resources to do so otherwise.
That is the hope, but it is also hard right now to believe uncritically in a technology that, as Gates himself blogged just last month, “will either be the greatest equalizer ever invented, or the worst source of injustice,” ushering in “one of the most turbulent times in human history.”
In an interview with the New York Times soon after, he seemed convinced that AI will likely do more harm than good. “I don’t like bringing bad news to people, and I don’t like saying that innovation may be a net negative,” he said. “But that’s where we are.”
Now he wants billions of people around the world to use it? Yes, Suzman said, because if not, then inevitably the best parts of AI — the potential for exponentially better cancer treatments, for example — will go only “to those who can pay for it,” while the worst parts of it will fall, as they so often do, on those who benefit the least. “These decisions are being made now,” he said, “and the decisions being made now will then probably shape the following two decades.” Here’s hoping they’re good ones.
If you felt a gust of wind late on Friday, it came from hundreds of immigration lawyers who simultaneously exhaled after the Supreme Court announced it would not hear a case known as Genalo v. Black. That case asked whether certain immigrants could be held in immigration detention facilities indefinitely without ever receiving a bond hearing or other opportunity to seek temporary release. And if the Court had decided this case, its recent immigration decisions suggest that most of the justices may have blessed indefinite detention.
The Black case originally concerned two lawful permanent residents of the United States who were arrested during the first Trump administration because of crimes the two men committed years before, and that they had already served prison sentences for committing.
These immigrants were arrested because of a federal law, which provides that the federal government “shall take into custody” noncitizens who committed certain crimes or who are accused of involvement with terrorism so that the government may begin deportation proceedings against these individuals. This law does not allow these noncitizens to challenge their detention while their deportation case is pending. (Notably, the relevant federal law sometimes allows an immigrant to be detained without hearing if they are merely suspected of terrorism, which means the person could be detained indefinitely based on false allegations.)
Both men sued, claiming that it is unconstitutional to hold them for too long without some kind of hearing to determine whether they should be released after paying a bond. And a federal appeals court agreed, holding that “due process bars the Executive from detaining such individuals for an unreasonably prolonged period…without a bond hearing.”
Thus, Black was more than just another flash point in America’s debates over immigration. It was a test of one of the most fundamental protections that a liberal society provides to its residents — the right not to be locked up, forever, without any way to challenge the basis of that detention.
Now that the Supreme Court has removed the Black case from its own docket, this appeals court decision will not be formally repudiated by the Supreme Court. So immigrants who are detained indefinitely may still ask courts to give them a bond hearing — at least for now.
Still, the Court’s nondecision in Black leaves a cloud of uncertainty hanging over similarly situated immigrants. The Trump administration will no doubt continue to detain people for prolonged periods of time (most of whom won’t be able to obtain a gubernatorial pardon, like one of the men was in this case). And the question of whether these immigrants can be detained forever will remain unresolved until the Supreme Court takes up another case involving a similarly situated immigrant.
Both men at the heart of the Black case spent significant amounts of time in immigration detention facilities years after serving sentences for crimes. One, a Jamaican citizen named Carol Williams Black, spent seven months in an immigration detention facility. The other, Keisy Guerrero Mariano, spent 21 months in detention without a bond hearing or other procedure that could allow him to seek release while his case was pending. These 21 months in immigration detention more than doubled the time he spent in New York state prison for his actual crime — he pled guilty to second-degree assault after he got into a fight outside a New York City restaurant.
But there is no longer a legal dispute about what should happen to either man — in the words of the law, both cases are now moot. Black has since been released from detention and says that he “made the difficult decision to leave the United States” and has no intention to return. And the Trump administration’s case against Guerrero Mariano went up in smoke in late August, after New York Gov. Kathy Hochul gave him a pardon — thus wiping away the conviction that allowed the Trump administration to detain Guerrero Mariano in the first place.
Guerrero Mariano is one of six individuals that Hochul pardoned at the time. In her official announcement, she said that she did so because these six people “have demonstrated remorse, exemplified rehabilitation and displayed a commitment to improving themselves and their communities.”
There’s also a great deal of evidence indicating that Hochul pardoned Guerrero Mariano in order to resolve his immigration case — and potentially keep the Supreme Court from deciding Black. Among other things, the actual pardon document signed by Hochul specifically states that it will grant Guerrero Mariano “relief from removal.” Guerrero Mariano’s lawyers had sought this pardon, and Hochul granted it mere days before his brief was due in the Supreme Court.
That brief’s very first sentence, moreover, states that Hochul “granted Respondent Keisy G.M. a full and unconditional pardon of the state criminal conviction that is the sole basis for his removal,” and it urges the justices to dismiss the case as moot.
Last Thursday, Trump’s Justice Department joined a stipulation calling for the justices to dismiss the case against Guerrero Mariano, most likely because even they recognized that a lawful permanent resident with no conviction may not be detained. The Court granted that request on Friday.
So that’s good news for Guerrero Mariano, who presumably will now be able to live freely in the United States.
It’s possible that the Supreme Court might have agreed with the lower court’s holding that immigrants who are detained for an “unreasonably prolonged period” have a constitutional right to a bond hearing — this Court has, on rare occasions, broken with the Trump administration in immigration cases. But those decisions are few and far between.
Among other things, this Court has allowed President Donald Trump to deport immigrants back to war zones. The Court’s Republican majority effectively nullified the Convention Against Torture, a treaty that is supposed to protect immigrants from being deported to nations where they will be tortured. The Court also blessed so-called Kavanaugh stops, which permit suspected immigrants to be racially profiled so long as their race or ethnicity isn’t the sole reason why they are stopped by law enforcement.
Moreover, while the US Court of Appeals for the Second Circuit’s decision in Black — the one holding that immigrants like Guerrero Mariano may receive a bond hearing if their detention is “unreasonably prolonged” — reached a plausible legal conclusion, this conclusion was not a slam dunk under the Supreme Court’s previous precedents. And that means that the justices could have easily come up with a reason to reverse that decision if they wanted.
On the one hand, the Court said in Zadvydas v. Davis (2001) that “a statute permitting indefinite detention of an alien would raise a serious constitutional problem.” On the other hand, the Court held in Demore v. Kim (2003) that an immigrant similarly situated to Guerrero Mariano may “be detained for the brief period necessary for their removal proceedings.”
Read together, these decisions suggest that the government does have some power to detain people while their immigration case is pending. While Zadvydas indicates that this detention can go on for too long, the Court has never established when an immigrant’s detention has stretched too long. So that means that the justices would have a fair amount of leeway to allow prolonged detentions without defying any of their previous precedents.
So it’s clear why everyone from Guerrero Mariano’s lawyers to Hochul seemed concerned about what would happen if the Court decided this case. In the worst-case scenario for immigrants, Trump could have gained the power to lock many people up for years without any meaningful way to challenge their detention. In the best case, the Supreme Court may have reached the same conclusion as the Second Circuit — but even that decision was vague about how long an immigrant must be detained before they must receive a bond hearing.
In any event, the bottom line is that the Court’s decision to dismiss the Black case is good news for Guerrero Mariano. But that dismissal merely delays a reckoning for other immigrants who face prolonged detention while their case is pending.
Two lawsuits were filed this week in California demanding prominent museums relinquish artwork seized by Nazi officials.
Californians are deeply frustrated with the length of the November ballot, which includes 14 propositions, and gloomy about the direction of the state and the nation, according to a new Public Policy Institute of California poll.
This story appeared in The Logoff, a daily newsletter that helps you stay informed about the Trump administration without letting political news take over your life. Subscribe here.
Welcome to The Logoff: President Donald Trump can’t put his name on the Kennedy Center — so he’s closing it, effective immediately.
What’s happening? On Tuesday, the board of the John F. Kennedy Center for the Performing Arts voted to close the building indefinitely, shortly after a federal judge rebuked efforts to engrave Trump’s name into the facade.
According to the board, the closure is because the center is in bad financial shape and the building itself is in a dangerous state of disrepair. Without Trump’s support, they claim, a renovation will be impossible — and Trump has made clear he won’t support it unless his name is on the building, even though Congress already approved $257 million for the project last year.
How did we get here? Trump has been obsessed with claiming the Kennedy Center — a memorial for an assassinated president — and its cultural cachet for himself ever since he returned to office last year. He quickly stacked the Kennedy Center board with his appointees, then installed himself as chair.
In December, he had his name added to the building’s facade and its official title, temporarily making it the Trump-Kennedy Center. A federal judge ordered him to undo the renaming in June, and the administration complied — but the facade has remained covered since then, obscuring the removal.
In August, Trump also threatened the center with demolition if he didn’t get his way; he sounded a similar note in a Truth Social post Tuesday, writing that “the Building is destined to doom.”
What’s the context? Trump and his handpicked board have both portrayed the Kennedy Center as a destitute, derelict institution in need of rescue. In reality, the Washington Post reported last month, he’s done his fair share to drive it into the ground: Ticket sales and fundraising both plummeted after his December renaming, resulting in a nearly $100 million shortfall.
What’s the big picture? The Kennedy Center was doing just fine before Trump returned to office. Now, its doors will close because he can’t turn it into a monument to himself.
I loved this recent episode from my colleagues over at Vox’s Unexplainable podcast, who went looking for the oldest story ever told — with some help from an astrophysicist and a cognitive anthropologist. You can listen here, or you can now find Unexplainable on Netflix.
As always, thanks for reading, have a great evening, and we’ll see you back here tomorrow!
This story appeared in Today, Explained, a daily newsletter that helps you understand the most compelling news and stories of the day. Subscribe here.
The recent history of mail voting in the United States has more twists and turns than an Emmy-winning drama. But for the cause of democracy, at least, yesterday’s ending is a happy one.
On Monday, the Supreme Court definitively blocked President Donald Trump’s many attempts to sabotage voting by mail — opining, in a three-sentence brief, that Trump can’t implement his new rules for the 2026 midterms. Or for any election, probably.
Those last-minute rules, you may recall, would have required states to adopt new ballot envelopes and upload absentee voters’ names and envelope barcodes to a still-nonexistent online platform. Many officials argued they couldn’t possibly adopt the new measures before midterm voting starts, which would essentially cancel mail-in voting in their jurisdictions.
The Supreme Court, of course, has been broadly sympathetic to Trump’s legal antics, even when they appear to clearly flout law or precedent. But shutting down voting just before the midterms? That’s one bridge too far for them.
Hobbling vote-by-mail was just one of Trump’s plots to meddle in the midterms, however — and several of the others are still underway. Here’s where some of the president’s most significant election maneuvers stand today:
How worried should you be going into the midterms? That, my friend, is a question to answer in your own little heart. But I’m taking my cues from Vox’s politics editorial director, Benjy Sarlin, who recently reminded listeners of our America, Actually podcast that there are many, many institutional and logistical barriers to many of Trump’s more concerning legal machinations.
“We’re taking it very seriously here…and nothing’s guaranteed,” he said. “But it is still a very difficult path [where] so far he has had zero success.”
➨ Skip the shrimp. A new analysis by researchers at the University of Bath and Faunalytics, an animal welfare group, attempts to quantify the amount of animal suffering required to produce different factory-farmed foods. They concluded that eating smaller animals = causing greater suffering, simply because you have to eat — and, by extension, farm and kill — so many more of them.
Burchett's effort to force Bass to testify is the latest example of congressional Republican leaders trying to examine California's handling of regional issues and finances.
The strikes put the Trump administration in a newly precarious position less than two months before the November midterms.
Anti-Muslim messaging has been on the rise among Republican elected officials for a while, and last week it took center stage at the GOP’s midterm convention in Dallas, where speakers warned that leftists and “Islamists” were joining forces.
“We are witnessing a new and dangerous red-green alliance. Communists and Islamists coming together and sweeping over the Democrat Party,” Sen. Ted Cruz (R-TX) told attendees. “They are united because they share the same enemies. They hate Christians. They hate Jews. They hate capitalism. They hate the Constitution. And they hate America.”
Former Rep. Mike Rogers, the Republican Senate candidate in Michigan, attempted to link his opponent, Abdul El-Sayed, to the 9/11 attacks: “I never imagined that 25 years after 9/11, I would be running against somebody that campaigns with Hasan Piker, who thinks America deserved it,” he said. “Together, they attack America. They excuse extremism. They treat our country like it’s the villain.”
The convention’s rampant Islamophobia isn’t a one-off: It fits a trend of Republican lawmakers attacking Islam and Muslims in the runup to the midterms.
Rep. Andy Ogles (R-TN) said on X that “Muslims don’t belong in American society.” Rep. Randy Fine (R-FL) said “we need more Islamophobia, not less.” Rep. Chip Roy (R-TX) said, “No more Muslims.” Indiana Lt. Gov. Micah Beckwith said that “I hate Islam; it’s a demonic death cult.”
The attacks have gotten specific: High-profile Muslim figures like El-Sayed, Piker, New York City Mayor Zohran Mamdani, and Reps. Rashida Tlaib and Ilhan Omar have all been targets of anti-Muslim rhetoric, and the GOP is also pushing anti-Muslim legislation.
A new “Sharia Free America Caucus” in the US House now includes dozens of members, all Republicans. Texas Republicans made banning and investigating cases of sharia law an official plank in their party platform. Texas Gov. Greg Abbott has called for a federal probe of Muslim washing facilities at Texas airports.
To break down the disturbing uptick in Islamophobia this midterm season, what’s driving it, and where it could be headed, Today, Explained co-host Noel King spoke with journalist Rozina Ali, author of the new book Seasons of Fury.
Below is an excerpt of their 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.
Do you think that we are partly seeing a rise in Islamophobic rhetoric because this year we have high-profile Muslims like Abdul El-Sayed, Zohran Mamdani, and Hasan Piker criticizing US foreign policy?
We have had really prominent Muslim politicians in the last several years. The same year that President Trump was elected, we also elected Ilhan Omar to the Minnesota House of Representatives. And then we had the [2018] election of Rashida Tlaib. These are remarkable because not only were they Muslim politicians, but they were also critical of US foreign policy and the government.
What’s actually been a turning point has been the post-October 7 period because, one, we had a lot of politicians, especially from the Republican Party, starting to label this entire war as a religious war. Sen. Lindsey Graham (R-SC) immediately said, “We’re in a religious war,” which is astonishing, quite frankly, because that’s not even the rhetoric the Bush administration used after 9/11.
What also happened is that a lot of Muslims — Muslim experts, Muslim scholars, Muslim journalists, and Muslim politicians — started being very vocal about US foreign policy. And that wasn’t necessarily the case after 9/11. A lot of Muslims who did criticize US foreign policy back then were sidelined or monitored or seen as suspicious, but they are so vocal now. The younger generation that has come up — Abdul El-Sayed, Zohran Mamdani, and others — they’re so vocal.
And it’s not just foreign policy. What they say is that the way we conduct US foreign policy actually has direct ties to what’s happening at home. They’re very critical of the inequality they’re seeing at home, the rising costs, inflation — there’s so much to criticize about what’s happening at home. And I think this is one of the reasons we see so much backlash against them — because they’re unapologetic in their criticism.
The US has always had these fights over who gets to criticize the United States of America. I wonder why you think, at this moment, they feel safer launching those criticisms.
Do they feel more free because the wars were such disasters? What opened the door to allow younger Muslims running for office to run in part on, “The United States is a really imperfect country and we’re not going to stop talking about what we’ve done overseas and at home”?
I think they’re able to do that because so many Americans do that. A lot of politicians and policymakers are openly critiquing what has happened abroad and what is happening here. One of the marked differences between the post-9/11 period and now is that there was widespread support for the Bush administration’s “war on terror” from policymakers on both sides of the aisle, from media, from the public at large. The few scholars and Muslim community members who did critique what the Bush administration was doing were often shunned.
In later years, it became very clear that we were not winning the wars in Iraq, in Afghanistan, or even the war on terror. There was a lot to be critical of, not just with the Abu Ghraib scandal and Guantanamo, but also what was happening at home. There was mass surveillance, [and] then we had the rise of the NSA.
I think, ultimately, we have reached a point in this country that we actually have a society that has deep, profound distrust of its institutions. That larger landscape allows politicians like Zohran Mamdani, like Dr. Abdul El-Sayed, but also any other politician to critique the government and feel comfortable doing so.
I would say this is the Democrats’ side. I think what’s so interesting about the Republican Party now is that so much of their rhetoric and their vision is about who loves America. I was listening to clips of JD Vance at the convention and he kept talking about “America belongs to those who love it, not those who hate it.” And I think this is just a fascinating declaration to make when there is such a disconnect between what the public is feeling right now and what the Republican Party is saying.
I’m glad you brought up JD Vance, because one thing that is true of the vice president is that he too is a critic of America. It doesn’t always come out, but it has come out in the past. There are parts of America, including the wars overseas, that JD Vance has been fiercely critical of.
Mamdani and El-Sayed are also Americans. It seems to me like some of the pushback they’re getting is rooted in the idea that “you don’t have the right to do this, you’re lucky to be in America.”
Do you think there is something going on here where you can criticize America if you look like JD Vance, but you cannot if you look like Zohran Mamdani?
Unfortunately, yes. And I will say, it’s unfortunate, but it’s not just the Republican Party who perpetuated that narrative. Some of the Democrats in earlier years did the same thing. I very clearly remember Bill Clinton on the DNC stage in 2016, saying, “If you’re a Muslim and you love America and freedom and you hate terror, stay here and help us win and make the future together.”
“I really think that there needs to be a concerted effort to challenge anti-Muslim rhetoric coming from policymakers and from the top that we’re not really seeing yet.”
It placed a conditionality on the way that Muslims would be accepted in the United States. But that was an absurd statement to make because there was a lot to be critical of with the way that the US was fighting its war on terror.
And that conditionality — we have continued to see it over and over again, except it has morphed and mutated to the extent that someone like JD Vance can say that “we were tired of being called racist for noticing that our country was becoming dirtier and poorer and less safe and less prosperous.” He blames that squarely on immigrants or foreigners or what he considers un-American values. He can say that, but not anyone else who is, perhaps, brown or Muslim.
I don’t think it’s just targeted towards Muslims. I actually think the problem and fascinating thing about what the Republican Party is doing is combining all of these labels into one. And there’s this narrative that they’re creating that anyone who is against us will be Muslims, will be leftists, will be immigrants, will be people who don’t look like us.
It’s really creating this cultural, religious, racial divide, which is quite frightening.
I wonder if you think this fearmongering is about winning the midterms and then it’ll die down in the same way that a lot of political rhetoric gets very heated in the run-up to contested elections and then dies down, or whether you worry that this talk keeps escalating?
I have been wondering about that because I think there are two things happening.
One is that anti-Muslim sentiment has become a feature of American politics and seems to come out during election season. And I think what the GOP is doing is actually seeing if this anti-Muslim rhetoric is going to be effective in helping them win. This is what they were trying during the Mamdani campaign and it didn’t work. And I think they’re trying this in Michigan and, let’s see if it works. They’re trying this elsewhere too.
But the other thing that’s happening, which is a bit more lasting, is the effort to change the very structures and laws regarding Muslim expression and the freedom to practice Islam in the United States. For example, in Texas, we are seeing efforts to frame the entire religion of Islam as a political ideology rather than a religion itself.
There are efforts to, for example, ban sharia, which still makes very little sense because I don’t know if anyone can quite explain that. There is a very concerted effort to try to block signs of visible Islam at a local level. And if they’re successful, we’re going to see that at a national level.
I was in Michigan last month and I interviewed Dr. Abdul El-Sayed. There are a lot of things that make him interesting, but one of them is how easy it is to look at a politician like that and call him “all-American,” right? He’s high-achieving, he’s married, he’s handsome, he’s a jock. He’s got two kids. He is all-American.
Can you conceive of a world where Abdul El-Sayed being Muslim is not the first line of attack when he makes a point about what the US has done wrong? In short, can you see him occupying, at some point in the future, a place like JD Vance occupies: You get to criticize the country because you are American enough?
There was a time when being Catholic was considered a really big deal. John F. Kennedy was the first Catholic president and it just kept coming up over and over again. Now, no one even remembers. I bet you half the country doesn’t realize he was Catholic.
I think that could happen to Dr. Abdul El-Sayed, but I don’t think it’s going to be in the near future. I think it’s going to take a generational change for that and it’s not going to come organically. I really think that there needs to be a concerted effort to challenge anti-Muslim rhetoric coming from policymakers and from the top that we’re not really seeing yet.
But you think we might?
I think we might, in decades’ time.
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