U.S. Citizenship and Immigration Services estimates that up to 444,000 of the more than 1.4 million asylum cases in its backlog could be affected by the rule.
The comical charm of Meta’s new AI-enhanced, smart glasses is that they’re seemingly made for someone unimpressed, perhaps thoroughly, with the way they’re experiencing life.
Being unhappy with life in its current state is, of course, intrinsically human and a problem that is as old as time. In fairy tales and folklore, the motif ends with a lesson — sometimes with the aid of magic, divine punishment, and maybe a witch or two — to be thankful for the things you have. More contemporary interpretations involve time travel and alternate realities, and perhaps some kind of Christmas theme.
Now, in 2026, we have glasses imbued with technological magic. The $300 Meta glasses are equipped with dual cameras as well as multiple microphones and tiny speakers that connect to an AI-powered app on your phone. This allows you to understand languages you can’t speak, command music to be played, perhaps even identify people you don’t know, and record anything you want and keep it, should you desire, forever. Having the ability to do these things, according to Meta, could make life a little better.
The problem with Meta’s pitch is that the improvements the glasses promise come at a price. These super-powered spectacles run the risk of annoying or offending or creeping out the people around you.
And worst of all, even if you’re just plainly wearing the glasses, they’re killing the vibe for everyone else.
The major takeaway from Meta’s advertisements and overall promotional strategy for its glasses is that you’re supposed to wear them everywhere: Japanese restaurants, nights out at bars and clubs, on escalators (possibly to somewhere cool), backstage at concerts, at Kardashian houses, in Miami Beach, skydiving, and everywhere in between.
What these stylish commercials and dynamic morsels of marketing do not tell you is that at all these places there will likely be people who do not want to see you wearing these glasses at all.
“For a few weeks there was a trainer at the gym I noticed wearing glasses — black Ray-Bans — and he had never worn glasses before. It took me a few days but I realized they were Meta,” Sean, a non-Meta glasses wearer in DC, told me. Vox agreed to let Sean and other people interviewed for this article to go by their first name or pseudonym to let them speak freely about these spectacles.
“I almost said something to a manager, but then he stopped wearing them before I could say anything,” he added.
While Meta glasses enthusiasts and critics are on opposite ends of the spectrum when it comes purchasing Meta glasses, both camps are actually pretty close when it comes to advice on how not to look like a creep when wearing them.
One of the main things I was told was just not to film around people. If you’re going to buy these glasses and film, you should film solo activities and not in the direction of other people. Think: ziplining, hiking, gardening, boating, and bicycle rides. The ocean, mountains, flowers, and trails do not care about being filmed the way people do.
The other thing that kept coming up was to be understanding and try not to film anyone without their consent. Because the tech’s relatively new, people are still getting used to these devices. They might not know about the recording light or might have in their heads that people wearing these things are recording everything. That might lead to situations where someone comes up to you and asks about them or perhaps even tense situations where someone thinks they’re being recorded. Being transparent about the glasses (e.g., explaining the recording light) and respecting people’s privacy by telling them what you’re recording (e.g., your form at the gym) and if they might be in the shot goes a long way.
Sean explained his unease. All around this country, people film in the gym all the time — to the point where it’s obnoxious and gets in everyone’s way. This trainer could just be following the trend, using the glasses (which are less cumbersome than an entire tripod setup) to film his clients’ form or creating content for a YouTube channel. But not knowing what the glasses are for, what the trainer is recording, or where he’s recording is what bothered Sean.
“I don’t want to be in the background of videos all over the internet or on TikTok,” he said.
There’s a little bit of social absurdity here in that we’ve been encouraged to post and have so many platforms — TikTok, Instagram, YouTube, etc. — to do so. Meta has continually emphasized that not only do these glasses allow people to share their points of view but also that everyone’s point of view is so important that it needs to be shared. At the same time, more people posting more than ever has made people aware of being a background character in someone else’s content. And it turns out that real-life, regular people are not particularly invested in how the stranger next to them in Meta glasses sees the world.
Patrick, a writer living in New York, told me about a wedding he’d recently attended, where he saw an old friend wearing a pair. His group of friends told their pal that they wouldn’t talk to him until he took them off.
As someone who aspires to be the kind of person you want to sit next to at a wedding, this is understandable. A wedding is theoretically two people sharing the most romantic day of their lives, but it is also a well of gossip, judgment, inside jokes, and lore that’s shared by the people who are watching said couple share the most romantic day of their lives. There’s also the possibility that, depending on the wedding, the spirit might move oneself to partake in the erotic violence known as the “chicken dance” and would not want any of that recorded.
“One person screamed, ‘Ew the Kylie glasses, gross.’ It felt so cathartic,” Patrick said, referencing Meta glasses spokesmodel Kylie Jenner who, in her personal life, may or may not wear the glasses she advertises.
In addition to weddings and the gym, people also told me that they don’t want to see the glasses at restaurants, not on dance floors or at parties, and definitely not in an immersive theater setting. I even spoke to someone who started a petition to ban them from bars.
“I’m staunchly anti-photographs at good parties — the best parties in the world ban photography from the dancefloor,” said Vee, a nightlife aficionado who has owned but does not use his pair of Meta glasses anymore. “When people know there’s a camera on them, they behave differently. They start to monitor their own behavior. They become self-conscious and they start to think, Well, what will the people watching this video think I’m doing? Am I being cringe?”
Going out partying is a completely different experience from lifting weights at the gym, and both are obviously very different from attending a wedding with friends. Yet, the critique of wearing Meta glasses at all these places is the same. No matter the vibe, Meta glasses will kill it and flatten the mood. People can’t enjoy the moment because the moment is being intrinsically changed by a person who might be recording.
One of the rather unfortunate terms that Meta glasses have acquired is “pervert glasses.” This is largely due to the trend of pickup artists, pranksters, and yes, perverts, who are using the glasses to film others without their consent. Vee, the dance enthusiast, told me that it’s one more reason why he doesn’t believe that these specs have any place in nightlife.
“There’s a very significant community of people who trade videos that they’ve taken: candid videos of women who are in various states of undress. It’s just this kind of seedy underground,” Vee said, pointing out that Reddit had to ban entire forums dedicated to sharing nonconsensual videos and pictures of women at festivals and clubs.
As Vee explained, people at festivals and nightlife events are often partaking in drugs and alcohol. He has no problem with that. What he does take issue with is that no one doing these things should have to think about being someone else’s content. Intoxicated people aren’t in the state of mind where they can consent to being in someone’s video or are even aware that someone’s Meta glasses have their recording light on.
“There’s this whole kind of creeper contingent of folks who are trying to learn how to disable the recording light,” Vee said. “It’s not everybody who owns these glasses obviously, but there is a significant number of creepers who are giving the hardware a very bad name.”
The indicator light has since become a major flashpoint. The light is part of the glasses’ vibe-kill persona as it makes clear to everyone that can see that recording is taking place, and it’s especially vibrant in dimly lit places. The effect, I imagine, is like when the toys in Toy Story collapse when they see a human. That’s led to a contingent of glasses-wearers who want to disable the feature.
While it’s understandable that someone might not want to draw even more attention to these glasses, hacking the light source is something a creeper would also do. Hence the “pervert glasses” moniker. These privacy concerns are why Meta is now rolling out an update that will disable the spectacles’ recording feature if said light is tampered with.
“I think if you tamper with that, they should just break,” Jason, a 28-year-old Meta glasses owner, told me. “It’s the thin veil that makes it like, ‘Okay, at least you’re telling me you’re filming me.’ So the idea that if you tamper with it? No, your product should be bricked.”
Jason bought a pair of Meta glasses in November with the idea that he would use them to film food content and post reviews. He had even picked out a name, “Sandwich Digest,” and dreamt of its success. But on his first wear, he took them to a Japanese sandwich shop and quickly realized that his future as a Meta glasses-wearing food critic was not a fun one.
“I felt so uncomfortable,” Jason said, noting that the obviousness of his Meta glasses and their recording light spiked his self-consciousness. “But I also felt like the people I was interacting with were also uncomfortable. And I felt like they were feeling like, Okay, we both know this is weird, but I can’t say that because you’re actively filming me.”
The strange interaction Jason described is a version of the panopticon effect, the idea that being recorded makes people alter their baseline behavior, perhaps to the point where people self-regulate even when they’re not being recorded. For Jason, there was no “real” restaurant experience to be filmed because everyone was so uncomfortable with being recorded.
Therein is the conundrum: Even if you’re not using these glasses to be a creep, people still think you’re a creep, and you know that they think you’re a creep.
Therein is the conundrum: Even if you’re not using these glasses to be a creep, people still think you’re a creep, and you know that they think you’re a creep.
Since that initial encounter, Jason tells me that he’s only ever used the filming feature to capture a zipline experience he had in Mexico at the beginning of the year. He thinks he might also use them to capture hikes or excursions on an upcoming vacation, but he won’t use them in the vicinity of or to film other people — especially since they’ve been dubbed pervert glasses.
“People’s perception of these glasses now is not what it was when I bought them in November,” he told me. “And had it been then, and if I knew what I know now, I probably wouldn’t have bought them.”
Max, a Meta glasses wearer based in Australia, is a bit more keen on them but still shares some of Jason’s sentiment about their not-so-great reputation. Max explained to me that he has two pairs and wears them around 40 hours per week, mainly when he’s working, or walking and driving from place to place. Though he says he’s never had a negative interaction when wearing his glasses, he understands the backlash.
“While we’re constantly being recorded when in public anyway, there’s a big difference between mass surveillance and one random weirdo recording you for their own purposes,” Max said, making the point that the indicator light, as awkward and obnoxious as it is, could be the accessory’s most important feature.
“It’s really the only defense wearers have against the ‘pervert glasses’ remarks,” he added. “If the firmware update is successful, and the marketing around the update is widespread, I think we can slowly turn the public in their favor again.”
To be clear, many Meta glasses owners like Max pointed out that the glasses do have extremely useful features, like hands-free calling or the ability to translate foreign languages in real time. Meta also touts the glasses’ accessibility features, including those for people with reduced vision or hearing. They also offer sun protection.
These are all ostensibly helpful gizmos, and their existence seems to indicate that Meta and its tech cohort are trying to figure out how to make these glasses as essential to our everyday lives as smartphones. Perhaps, when these features become more innovative or exciting or if the glasses become so popular, the narrative around why people buy them may change.
But for now, the singularly intriguing thing about these specs is simultaneously their most publicly maligned feature: the filming.
“There are probably a million things to film with them that are probably not weird,” Jason, the one-time Meta glasses food critic, told me. “But like if you’re wearing them at the beach, I would probably be side-eyeing you because you’re wearing ‘pervert glasses’ at the beach — fork found in kitchen.”
This story was originally published on June 29 in The Highlight. To get access to member-exclusive stories like this every month, become a Vox Member today.
America in the summer of 1976 was not in a good place.
The president who presided over the country’s bicentennial, President Gerald Ford, only had the job because the previous president and vice president had resigned in disgrace, making him the sole US president who was never actually elected. The Vietnam War had ended in defeat and disgrace when Saigon fell the year before, after the deaths of nearly 60,000 American servicemembers. Inflation hit double digits in 1974 and stayed ugly, unemployment sat near 8 percent, and economists had to invent a word — stagflation — for an economy that seemed to encompass the worst of both worlds.
Given all that, you might assume the national mood leading up to the 200th anniversary was grim. And, yet, on July 4, 1976, something strange happened: Americans threw themselves a hell of a party.
In New York Harbor, more than 200 tall ships sailed up the Hudson for Operation Sail, drawing an estimated six million spectators — the largest crowd in the city’s history. Ford reviewed the fleet from the deck of the aircraft carrier USS Forrestal. It was the same scene up and down the country that day: parades in small towns, fireworks over the National Mall, church bells ringing in unison at 2 o’clock. It was one cathartic day of celebration after a decade that had offered little reason for it.
And when pollsters asked people how they felt about the country’s future that year, the mood was, improbably, sunny. A Roper survey found more Americans were optimistic than pessimistic about the future by a nearly three to one ratio. More than three-quarters told Gallup the nation had already achieved at least a fair amount of its founding ideals. Somehow, a nation that was in the middle of a genuinely miserable decade looked in the mirror and liked what it saw.
Jump forward 50 years, to this year’s 250th anniversary, and you’ll find the vibes flipped. Roughly 60 percent of Americans tell pollsters the nation is on the wrong track. A majority say its best years are behind it. About three-quarters think today’s children will end up worse off than their parents. Asked a version of that same founding-ideals question from 1976, 77 percent now say the founders would be disappointed in what we’ve become.
But just as they were in 1976, the vibes don’t match reality. Set the mood aside and look only at the numbers, and the country that felt so good in 1976 was, by the most important measures, a worse place to be alive than the country that now feels so terrible on its 250th birthday.
Let’s start with the most basic test of how a society is doing: how long its people live.
Life expectancy at birth in the US was 72.6 years in 1976. In 2024, it reached a record high of 79 years — an extra six and a half years of life. At the start of life, a baby born now is far more likely to survive its first year than one born during the Bicentennial, while cancer, once nearly a synonym for a death sentence, now kills a much smaller share of the people it strikes.
The US made those gains by stopping some of its worst habits, things that were commonplace in 1976 . You might have seen the Bicentennial celebrations through a cloud of smoke, as cigarettes were woven into ordinary life — on airplanes, in offices, in hospital wards — and roughly 37 percent of adults smoked. Today, it is closer to one in 10, and it keeps falling.
The heart disease and lung cancer that were connected to all that tobacco have receded with it. Add seatbelts and airbags, better trauma care, and cheap drugs that lower cholesterol and blood pressure, and the result is a country where the things that were most likely to kill an American in 1976 are less deadly now.
The America of 1976 sat at the leading edge of a brutal crime wave; the murder rate would peak in 1980 and stay high for more than a decade. By the early 2020s, however, violent crime had fallen back to roughly a 50-year low, and homicide rates this year may end up at a record low. And the single most dangerous thing most Americans do — get behind the wheel of a car — is far less likely to kill them, with the death rate per mile driven now a fraction of what it was at the Bicentennial.
In 1976, the air in American cities carried lead, an honest-to-God neurotoxin that was pumped out of every tailpipe of the more than 90 percent of American vehicles that used leaded gasoline.
Rivers literally caught fire: The Cuyahoga in Cleveland had burned so many times it became a national joke, and Lake Erie was widely written off as dead. And things were bad outside Ohio, too. In Los Angeles, the smog got thick enough to keep kids inside at recess and erase the nearby mountains from view.
Since 1970, however, the combined emissions of the six main air pollutants the EPA tracks have fallen 78 percent — even as the economy nearly quadrupled in real terms, the population grew by tens of millions, and Americans drove far more miles. That split, with growth going one way and pollution the other, is one of the least celebrated but most consequential triumphs of the past half-century, the product of legislative efforts and technological response. And lead? It’s essentially disappeared from the air.
And it’s not just economic or environmental statistics that have improved; society advanced, as well. Women now earn the majority of college degrees. The Black poverty rate sits near a record low. Support for same-sex marriage is now the norm — maybe the single biggest social change from 1976, when homosexuality was criminalized in most states. Pick a metric more or less at random, and the line usually runs the right way.
This is not a matter of cherry-picking a few flattering numbers. It is the overwhelming direction of the evidence, across health, wealth, safety, rights, even the basic cleanliness of the physical world an American walks through every day. Measured against its own recent past, the US is in some of the best shape it has ever been.
So what’s with the bad vibes?
Well, some things genuinely got worse, and they are not insignificant.
Americans’ faith in their government has collapsed; fewer than one in five now trust Washington to do the right thing, down from solid majorities in the 1960s — and the country is more polarized than it was in 1976. Democratic decline and even collapse is a live threat. Those economic gains I highlighted above have flowed disproportionately upward. The top 1 percent’s share of income, near a historic low in 1976, has since roughly doubled.
Climate change barely registered in 1976. The carbon dioxide in the atmosphere has since climbed from around 330 parts per million to about 427, and warming will only get worse in the future. And buying a home increasingly feels out of reach for many. By 2024, a record share of households spent more than a third of their income on housing. (Notably, though, the percentage of Americans who own a home is slightly higher than it was in 1976, and those homes are much larger on average.)
These are real problems, but they remain exceptions to a broader half-century trend of improvement. And a country that scrubbed the lead from its air and put out smoking can overcome new challenges, as well.
Which brings us back to a tale of two birthdays. In 1976, Americans had less of nearly everything you can count, and, yet, they reported feeling good about the future anyway. In 2026, we have more, and we don’t.
Just as it can be for a person, a country’s mood is a poor instrument; it measures the story we are telling ourselves more than the lives we are actually living. For all our pessimism about the state of the nation, more than three-quarters of Americans say they are satisfied with their own lives.
The Americans crowding New York Harbor in 1976 were cheering a country that was sicker, dirtier, more dangerous, and less free than the one we live in now. But they were right to cheer; the line was already bending the right way, and it kept bending. It turns out a nation can travel a long way, even while it is convinced it is going nowhere.
A version of this story originally appeared in the Good News newsletter. Sign up here!
The American right has a new enemy.
In a new report on Cuba, the State Department argued that Havana has become “the beating heart of a new and distinct kind of Marxism” — which the State Department calls “Third Worldism.” Cuba is spreading this doctrine, per Secretary of State of Marco Rubio, with the explicit intent of fomenting revolution in America.
Here, the Trump administration is following conservative influencers — who in recent months have become increasingly preoccupied by the “third worldist” threat.
“The Left is moving from ‘woke’ to Third-Worldism,” Chris Rufo, perhaps the right’s leading activist, recently wrote. “Third-Worldism is a more serious threat to life, liberty, and property.”
Ben Shapiro, one of conservatism’s leading media voices, declared in April that “the future of the Democratic Party is radical third worldism.”
And Reihan Salam, the president of the influential Manhattan Institute (which employs Rufo), has warned that “Third Worldism, left unchecked, won’t remain on the radical fringe” — citing New York Mayor Zohran Mamdani as the chief example of a third worldist in power.
All of this may be news to Mamdani and other Democrats, who virtually never use the term to describe their own views. So what are Rubio, Rufo, and Shapiro talking about? And is there any truth in the various claims about rising third worldist influence?
The answer is more complicated than it might seem.
Conservatives are using “third worldist” a lot like the terms “woke” and “critical race theory” before it: as an ill-defined concept that serves as a clearinghouse for various right-wing grievances and can be used as a slur to discredit and demonize the left.
Yet at the same time, they’ve actually put their fingers on something real. Among a very specific and visible sub-section of the socialist left, a set of views that can be reasonably termed “third worldist” are rising in prominence. For progressives outside this camp, deciding what comes next will require engaging with the right-wing critique directly and not dismissing it as a smear.
The term “third world” itself originated in a 1952 article by the French thinker Alfred Sauvy.
The capitalist West was the “first world,” and the Communist Eastern bloc “the second.” Most countries outside of North America and Europe were, at the time, aligned with neither bloc — making up the “third world.”
For this reason, the earliest ideology that fits the term “third worldism” was not Marxist, but rather efforts like the Non-Aligned Movement to build global solidarity between post-colonial states who were trying to avoid being dominated by the two competing world powers.
But Communist regimes in the Global South — most notably, China and Cuba — became inspirations for a distinctively Marxist spin on third worldism that emerged in the 1960s and ’70s.
This theory held that the locus of revolutionary activity had shifted to 1) armed revolutionaries of the Global South and 2) militant movements within the capitalist world led by oppressed minorities. Out with the Communist Party USA and the Soviet Union; in with the Black Panthers and the Viet Cong.
This broad worldview had many ideological influences — ranging from Mao’s Little Red Book to the French psychiatrist Frantz Fanon’s The Wretched of the Earth. Some leftist writings, like the Weather Underground manifesto Prairie Fire or the well-known pamphlet The Mythology of the White Proletariat, are clear examples of what might be termed “third worldist” thought.
But on the whole, this kind of third worldism is frustratingly tricky to pin down. It has no authoritative spokesperson, no text or movement that clarified its core principles in any detail. It is a label attached to ideas from the outside, as often by those ideas’ enemies as by their allies.
“‘Third worldist’ is almost a pejorative [term] you would use on the left,” said Bhaskar Sunkara, the president of The Nation magazine and author of Blueprint: How Socialism Can Work in the Real World.
The Trump administration and its allies are basically arguing that people like Sunkara are trying to trick you. Whatever the modern left’s protestations, their actual views are still basically pretty similar to those of Cold War American radicals who apologized for the Khmer Rouge. Only in this case, the most admired Third World militants are now jihadists rather than Communists.
The most influential work in this vein comes from Zineb Riboua, a fellow at the conservative Hudson Institute think tank. She sees third worldism as a joint product of anti-American governments, including Cuba, and leftist intellectuals in American universities. Its recent prominence, in her view, is a function of October 7 and the Gaza war — which allowed third worldist logic to fuse “seamlessly with the decolonial language” that became popular during the woke era.
“In this viewpoint, a terrorist organization like Hamas comes to be seen as the armed expression of a national liberation struggle,” Riboua writes. “The question ceases to be what Hamas actually did and becomes what Israel is presumed to represent. And because Israel is positioned as the forward post of American imperial power, defending Hamas becomes, almost automatically, a moral gesture directed against the United States itself.”
But Riboua does not stop with foreign policy. In her view, third worldism has become a kind of “universal ideology” that is “applied to everything from university hiring and border policy to museum curation.” When leftists talk about “decolonization,” she argues, they are really talking about the planned demolition of America from the inside.
“The ideology asks a country to accept that its power is a historical accident awaiting either correction with a sort of new Red Terror or annihilation,” she writes.
This, for the right, represents the left’s emerging “post-woke” animating doctrine. While the 2020-era left was interested in policing conservative speech on social issues, it is now interested in acquiring political power and using it to tangibly transform America’s policy and political institutions along Marxist and third worldist lines. It is “a vicious, lowest-common-denominator leftism that imports anticolonial resentments to the metropole,” writes Sarah Rogers, the under secretary of state for public diplomacy.
The effect, ultimately, will be to transform the American governing model into something that more closely resembles that of a “third world” country: corrupt, lawless, violent, and chaotic. The language they use to warn of this can be unmistakably racialized.
“Mamdani wants to plunder New York like the Somalis plundered Minnesota,” Rufo writes. “Legal or illegal, it’s all piracy, looting, and expropriation. Pure third-worldism.”
By the time we get to “Zohran Mamdani is a pirate,” it’s clear that the analytic train has gone off the rails. Third worldism is no longer being used to define a specific and recognizable approach to geopolitics, but rather a pure insult with ugly racial insinuations.
Indeed, while Mamdani is certainly a socialist with pro-Palestine politics — he announced this week he looked into arresting Israeli Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu but lacked legal authority — there is no evidence to suggest he is an anti-American Hamas admirer.
As mayor, his governance has focused primarily on quality of life and cost of living issues. And far from couching his arguments in the language of anti-American revolution, Mamdani’s recent address on July 4 was a classically patriotic text, whose praise for American soldiers and meditations on our “grand experiment in self-governance” sound far more like Lincoln than Fanon.
The attempt to lump Mamdani into a scary, foreign-sounding category recalls nothing more than the efforts to rebrand other left-wing ideas — like “critical race theory” — into millstones to hang around Democrats’ necks. Rufo was the intellectual force behind the CRT panic, back in 2021, and admitted at the time that his intent was political warfare rather than rigorous analysis. By coming up with a catch-all term for problematic left-wing politics, they could apply it not only to the real “critical race theory” — which were largely abstruse academic texts — but also ordinary Democratic policy or generic liberal ideas.
“We have successfully frozen their brand — ‘critical race theory’ — into the public conversation and are steadily driving up negative perceptions. We will eventually turn it toxic, as we put all of the various cultural insanities under that brand category,” he wrote. “The goal is to have the public read something crazy in the newspaper and immediately think ‘critical race theory.’ We have decodified the term and will recodify it to annex the entire range of cultural constructions that are unpopular with Americans.”
Read in this light, the right-wing allegation that third worldism is supplanting woke is more confession than anything else. From McCarthyism to the Reagan era and on through Newt Gingrich warning of Barack Obama’s “Kenyan, anti-colonial” worldview, the right has deployed fearmongering about foreign subversion as a central tactic to delegitimize its opponents and rally the base. The sweeping allegations about the entire Democratic Party being overtaken by third worldism represent a fusion of this old Red Scare blueprint with the new Rufo tactics of mimetic-conceptual warfare.
“There’s really nothing new here,” said David Austin Walsh, a historian of the right at the University of Virginia. “Third worldism is a term that’s being utilized to describe the exact same thing as what was meant by ‘the international Communist conspiracy’ back in the 1950s and 1960s.”
Yet Walsh, who is himself a DSA member, also acknowledges that there’s a nugget of truth here. Much as the Communist Party USA actually was a Soviet cut-out, there are people and factions on the American left that actually fit the description of “third worldism” advanced by Riboua and her fellow travelers.
The most obvious example is Hasan Piker, the streamer and provocateur who has become a lightning rod in debates over the Democratic Party’s direction.
Piker has repeatedly expressed admiration for the Chinese Communist Party, despite its vicious authoritarian tendencies, and said he would vote for Hamas “1,000 times” over Israel. My colleague Eric Levitz described his worldview as “campist,” an old leftist term for someone who aligns themselves with any government that opposes the American-led bloc, and one that I think is a bit more precise than “third worldist.” But Piker’s fascination with anti-American militancy and terrorists — he once gave a fawning interview to a Houthi fighter on stream — suggests that third worldist is at least a reasonable descriptor.
Another example is Neville Roy Singham, a Chicago businessman who sold his consultancy for $785 million and has donated hundreds of millions of dollars to leftist causes around the world. Singham, who was known to monologue to his employees about the virtues of Che Guevara, is at the center of what the New York Times describes as “a lavishly funded influence campaign that defends China and pushes its propaganda.” Though he funds American leftist organizations like Code Pink — in fact, his wife, Jodie Evans, is its cofounder — he currently resides in Shanghai.
There is also a third worldist activist current. The International Caucus of the DSA, one of many sub-organizations within the leftist faction, has celebrated the “achievements” of Cuba’s authoritarian government and whitewashed Russia’s invasion of Ukraine (which, again, is more precisely campist than third worldist). Students for Justice in Palestine, the leading pro-Palestine campus activist group, praised the October 7 attacks as “a historic win for the Palestinian resistance.”
And this tendency could be gaining its first representative in Congress. Darializa Avila Chevalier, a DSA candidate who recently unseated a multi-term House incumbent in a Democratic primary in New York, has accused Black and Latino men of “fetishizing ugly colonizer women” and retweeted a message praising Ho Chi Minh, Kim Il Sung, Che Guevara, and Fidel Castro. While her public statements are more limited than those of Piker or the DSA IC, there’s at least reasonable grounds for believing that she’s cut from the same cloth.
So what to make of all this?
Right-wingers like Riboua are picking up on real trends in leftist ideology, ones that are reflected to some degree in its institutional infrastructure. And interestingly, the leftists I spoke with conceded that there were some things to worry about here. Arash Azizi, a socialist historian at Yale University, said that this “negative third worldism” was a “serious trend” on the broader left. Sunkara was more skeptical of the term “third worldist, but he did express concerns with the DSA IC’s tendency to forget “first principles” — by which he meant core commitments to democracy and anti-authoritarianism. He also critiqued pro-October 7 statements on the left as “antiquated, ineffective, and morally questionable.”
At the same time, it is concomitantly clear that people on the right are overstating the significance of the problem.
Views that might accurately be called “third worldist” are controversial inside the left and even within the DSA. And the left does not currently dominate the Democratic Party, despite a handful of primary victories this cycle. To say that third worldism has conquered the Democrats, or even that third worldism is the new “woke,” is to get miles ahead of the evidence.
Putting those two conclusions together yields a more precise diagnosis: that third worldist views are, by virtue of the DSA’s electoral success, becoming a more prominent part of the broader left coalition even as its reach remains limited overall.
While Mamdani cannot reasonably be described as a “third worldist,” he operates in coalition with people who are. He filmed chummy videos with Hasan Piker; his endorsement rocketed Darializa Avila Chevalier to her primary victory. Like any political faction, the socialist left depends on alliances between sub-groups who have real and meaningful differences in worldview and approach.
When talking about this, Sunkara tried to disassociate the broader left from the third worldist subcurrent by analogy.
“It would almost be like me saying ‘the Republican Party is programmatically committed to white nationalism’ as opposed to saying ‘the Republican Party sure does have some vocal white nationalists around,’” he said. “The difference is key.”
But of course, the Republican Party’s relationship with white nationalists has been a significant political problem — and a moral one. However Democrats ultimately decide to handle these ideas floating around progressive circles, the process starts with acknowledging that they’re real.
Seattle Mayor Katie Wilson confirmed to local media that police had arrested a suspect in connection with the shooting. In a statement, Wilson called the shooting an 'act of horrific violence.'
Jake Collective and the American Foundation for Suicide Prevention are launching a $5 million, five-year initiative
Editor’s note, July 26, 8 am ET: We’re bringing you some of our best-loved Your Mileage May Vary columns while Sigal Samuel is on parental leave. The one below was originally published in December 2025.
This unconventional advice column offers you a unique framework for thinking through moral dilemmas. It’s based on value pluralism: the idea that each of us has multiple values that are equally valid but that often conflict with each other. Submit your own question here.
I’ve worked in communications for the past decade helping get important ideas out to the public. I’m good at what I do, and I think it’s useful, but I don’t really feel like I’m having a grand impact on the world.
Meanwhile, some of my friends have built their entire careers around the goal of having the biggest positive impact possible. They’re busy pulling big levers — doing global health work that saves lives, shaping federal policy that protects the environment, etc. I feel like my contribution is tiny in comparison.
I know life’s not a competition, but I grew up being told I was smart and had so much potential to change the world, and I worry I’m not living up to that. On the other hand, I also value work-life balance and relationships and experiences outside of work. Should I consider switching careers to something more impactful? Do I need to have an extraordinary career, or is it okay to just do an average amount of good and live a small(ish) life?
Dear Impact-Minded,
How do you feel about the fact that you’re going to die one day?
That might sound like a weird place to start, but I ask because I think fear of our mortality is what drives a lot of our modern quest for extraordinary careers.
In fact, the American anthropologist Ernest Becker argued in his 1974 Pulitzer Prize-winning book, The Denial of Death, that one of the main functions of culture is to offer effective ways to manage the terror of knowing that we’re going to die and eventually be forgotten.
The prospect of absolute annihilation is so terror-inducing, Becker argues, that we come up with all sorts of ways to convince ourselves we can achieve immortality. In the pre-modern era, most people looked to religion for this. It promised us literal immortality, in the form of an eternal soul that could enjoy a happy afterlife in heaven or maybe a nice reincarnation here on Earth.
In the modern era, as religion’s dominance waned, we’ve had to come up with new types of “symbolic immortality.” That can come in the form of publishing an autobiography, being part of a great nation, or — especially popular starting in the 18th century — achieving social progress “at scale.” As the Industrial Revolution propelled globalization, and it became possible to think about affecting people halfway around the world, utilitarian philosophers argued that our actions are good to the extent that they create “the greatest happiness for the greatest number.”
The idea that we could use our working lives to maximize the good gave people a new way to be extraordinary and thus achieve a lasting legacy — that is, a sense of immortality. By belonging to the grand project of social progress, we could live on well past our physical death.
On the one hand, the tacit promise is comforting. If we all chase these superlative lives, we can participate in the great forever! But on the other hand, it creates a crushing amount of pressure. There’s a sense that you need to be engaged in a maximally heroic quest; otherwise, your life is basically meaningless.
Not everyone, however, sees things this way.
For an alternative, consider Saint Thérèse of Lisieux. Born in France in 1873, she only lived to the age of 24, and the last nine years of her life were spent cloistered in a convent. She was an extremely pious young woman who prioritized kindness. But she was acutely aware of her own imperfections and limitations. She didn’t believe she was a great soul capable of great, heroic deeds. She definitely didn’t think her vocation was to have a positive impact “at scale.”
Instead, she developed a very different approach to goodness, which she called her “Little Way.” It wasn’t about trying to reach a wide swath of people. It was about trying to go deep on little, daily actions, infusing every glance and word with the purest love.
When the other nuns in the convent annoyingly interrupted her with chit-chat while she was trying to write, she made sure “to appear happy and especially to be so.” When one made exasperating clicking noises during prayers, she worked so hard to conquer her irritability that she broke into a sweat. She made lots of sacrifices lovingly, and trusted that through that, she could achieve holiness — and, yes, eternal life.
Saint Thérèse compared people to flowers. Although most people want to be a big, showy flower like a rose or lily, she wrote, she was content to be a little flower at the feet of Jesus:
If all the lowly flowers wished to be roses, nature would lose its springtide beauty, and the fields would no longer be enamelled with lovely hues. And so it is in the world of souls, Our Lord’s living garden. He has been pleased to create great Saints who may be compared to the lily and the rose, but He has also created lesser ones, who must be content to be daisies or simple violets flowering at His Feet.
Saint Thérèse became known as the Little Flower. After she died of tuberculosis, her spiritual memoir grew famous. People fell in love with her theology of the Little Way, and she ended up being one of the most popular saints in Catholic history.
I suspect she struck a chord with people because she offered them a strong counterpoint to the idea, which was gaining traction at the time, that it’s not enough to do good — we have to do the most good possible.
But, personally, I’m satisfied neither by the utilitarian perspective nor by Saint Thérèse’s perspective. Both are extremes: one says “you absolutely must do the most good,” and the other says “don’t even bother trying to help more people — just give the few people in your cloister the deepest love possible.”
Yet, it’s a feature of our modern life that the fortunate among us have the capacity to go both wide and deep — to consider both scale and other dimensions of value. People who go all-in on just one of these tend to feel regret, whether it’s the effective altruist who’s so focused on helping at scale that he ignores everything else or the monk who spends decades in deep contemplation but doesn’t do a thing to help others.
So, when you consider your own potential, I’d encourage you to consider the full picture. I don’t think you should obsess over finding a career that’ll allow you to do “the most good.” But doing “more good”? Sure! If you can find a job like that, why not?
But, as you look around to see whether there’s a job where you could have a bigger positive impact, you have to be mindful of a few things. For one, there are many different kinds of “good,” and you can’t always run an apples-to-apples comparison between them. (Is your current job doing more or less good than, say, being a journalist or an educator? Hard to say.) Also, there’s more to life than just “doing good” — a life well lived includes reveling in other precious things, like art or relationships, so you don’t want a job that’ll bar you from that. Plus, you don’t want a job that’ll be unsustainable for your physical or mental wellbeing or that’ll wreck your integrity by contravening other values you believe in.
Ultimately, what’ll probably work best is settling on a career that lets you achieve a decent balance among multiple criteria: doing substantial good, allowing for a pluralistic enjoyment of all life’s riches, feeling sustainable, and fitting with your values. (And after scanning the landscape, you just might find that the best career for you overall is the one you’ve already got!)
You’ll notice that this doesn’t sound as “grand” as either the utilitarian recommendation or the Saint Thérèse recommendation. But that’s the point: Those are extreme visions of life, and if you ask me, they’re not even really about life at all. They’re about death and achieving a legacy that you think will earn you a kind of eternal life after death. The assumption is that you need to do something “grand” in order to make your time on Earth not worthless.
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There’s a radically different starting assumption available to you: What if life is just a gift, and the time you have on this mysterious, weird, wondrous Earth is inherently precious, even if it’s temporary? When you get a gift — like, say, a box of candy — the point is not to try to make it last forever. The point is to appreciate the candy! To savor it yourself, and also savor the pleasure of sharing it with others.
If we embrace this view, then we don’t feel like we need to do something grand or extraordinary. Life is extraordinary, and living it well means relishing all the goods it offers us — and extending those goods to other beings so they can relish them too. Not out of fear that we’ll be worthless and forgettable otherwise, but simply because we realize we’ve been given talents and resources and, feeling grateful for them, we naturally want to share those gifts with others.
Medicine has come a long way. We are living longer than ever, we have eradicated diseases that once seemed like a certain death sentence, and new improvements are constantly being made to our quality of life. But despite all the advances, there’s a huge gap in women’s health. “I think there’s such an interconnectedness between society, culture, medicine, and science,” Dr. Elizabeth Comen told Vox. She’s a medical oncologist who specializes in breast cancer and an associate professor at NYU Langone. She says medicine often mirrors what’s happening in society at large. “For many societies across the globe, women did not have equal agency or power over their bodies, and that’s really reflected in the history of medicine.”
It’s reflected in medicine’s present, too. The share of women with heart disease in the United States is rising, there’s a cultural backlash and skepticism surrounding birth control, and almost half Americans are turning to social media influencers (many of whom aren’t credentialed) for medical information.
Why is there such a disconnect when it comes to health care for women? And what will it take for it to end? We find out on this week’s episode of Vox’s weekly call-in podcast, Explain It to Me.
Below is an excerpt of my conversation with Evans, edited for length and clarity. You can listen to the full episode on Apple Podcasts, Spotify, or wherever you get your podcasts. If you’d like to submit a question, send an email to askvox@vox.com or call 1-800-618-8545.
We are at this point where we know more about our bodies than we ever have before. Sometimes you go to the doctor, and it feels like they’re still catching up on some pretty basic aspects of women’s health. Why does it feel that way?
Because it’s true. It takes a long time for medical science to catch up with the glaring gaps in our healthcare system. The gaps are not just about the obvious women’s health issues. We focus a lot on breast cancer. We focus a lot on reproductive function or our gynecological needs. But the gaps exist head to toe from our neurologic care, our gastroenterology care, how our hearts function, how our immune system functions, how our joints function. The gaps are real, and the experiences are real.
Can you walk me through some of the history? What did it look like to study women’s health before the 20th century? What were we dealing with?
When we think about modern medicine today and these specialties of urology, gastroenterology, they really didn’t exist before the 1900s at all; those are relatively new concepts. For much of the history of medicine, at least in the Western world, the idea was that, at best, we were small men and, at worst, there were many ridiculous diagnoses like hysteria and a long legacy of dismissing women’s medical needs because we were largely not taken care of by women. Those women that were caregivers in the history of medicine, whether it was the midwives or other types of healers, were largely pushed out of medicine as it became codified, and the idea of medical science really came to rise in the late 19th century.
So, I’m guessing that they weren’t really talking about menopause at the time, let alone perimenopause.
Perimenopause wasn’t even discussed. That’s a relatively new term and new part of our lexicon when it comes to lay discussion and the public at large. With respect to menopause, one of the famous physicians, Roger Wilson, wrote a book [called] Feminine Forever and referred to women going through menopause as vapid cows. He was the one that advocated in the 1960s and 1970s for women to be on hormone replacement therapy. But understand that, in the 1850s, it’s not like people really were wildly aware of what estrogen, and testosterone, and progesterone did. These are all relatively new ideas — the concept of hormones and how they can travel in our body. And again, we have a long way to go.
I read that women were rarely included in clinical trials until the National Institutes of Health mandated it in 1993. I find that so surprising. Why were women missing there?
Well, these studies were not designed with women in mind. Some of the massive cardiology studies for drugs that we use day in and day out were done on thousands of men and not women. There is so much to that history, including the animal models on which many of these drugs were developed. In order to develop a drug, often, they are developed on mouse models first. It wasn’t until 2016 that you were even required to state the sex of the mice that you were studying. In many of these instances, female mice were not even included in drug development.
Oh my gosh — even the mice? How were these hormones marketed to people when hormone replacement therapy first became a thing?
It depends on which advertisements that you look at. If you look at advertisements of women in the 1950s, ’60s and ’70s, a lot of women were being prescribed anti-anxiety medicine. “Can’t manage your household at home? Don’t want to take care of your kids? Here’s what will sedate you and at least make you able to prepare breakfast for your husband.” It’s really shocking, and yet, not that surprising. If you look at Instagram today, are we really that far off from what gets marketed to women? Women sink billions of dollars probably into sham supplements and sham treatments, because they don’t feel cared for when they go to the doctor. And what fills that space? A lot of people trying to market things that have no proven evidence.
I think it’s really interesting that, at one point, hormone replacement therapy was this big thing, because I feel like growing up in the ’90s and 2000s, hearing women who are older than me speak, they were kind of anti-hormones. How did the pendulum swing that way?
Well, the pendulum has swung in wildly different directions. At first, it was: Every woman needs to be on it. And there were wildly successful sales. Then, there was the women’s health study that exaggerated the risk of breast cancer. Understandably, women were terrified. They were told by the media and by reputable scientists that these risks were significantly high and that they could not be on it, and we didn’t leave them with any alternatives. Now, we’ve become much more granular about what we know and what we don’t know, but I still think we’re far behind on the science. There’s still a lot that we need to learn, but, fortunately, an understanding of the prior studies and what their limitations are has come to light.
There are all these gaps in trust and treatment. There’s going to be a fair amount of snake oil out there, but are there ways that this moment is actually driving better treatment for women?
I’m so grateful that we’re talking about it, but I am terrified of what I see from influencers on Instagram. People can fake their knowledge. There’s so much fake imagery and information that is out there. I wish that we could invest this in quality science, which is long and laborious and painful at times but gives us the quality answers that we need. Every day, I see the consequences of fake information online, whether it’s an incredible loss of financial resources or just wasting money so that you could buy a nice pair of shoes. That would make you feel better than the ridiculous thing online that’s over promising and under delivering. The fear mongering is out of control.
What do you think it will take to trust their doctors again, rather than turning to the treatments they’re being sold online that might be dangerous? What will it take for them to feel good about the interactions they’re having at the doctor’s office?
I think it’s going to be really challenging. We can’t blame patients, because we’ve done them a disservice. Medicine has fragmented the care of many patients — not just women, but men as well. We have to build a health care system that allows for time to be with patients and really hold space for them. I think that’s where the trust is really going to be built, because, at the end of the day, despite all the technology that’s available, medicine is about human to human care. That is what everybody wants to be treated as: a human to be seen and heard in the ways that you can’t just reduce a body to biology.
Secretary of State Marco Rubio strongly condemned Ortega's election decree, but there is little evidence the White House is ready to intervene in Nicaragua.
Clint Reilly helped elect a who's who of California Democrats and trained generations of political consultants. He was a genius in the business of campaigns.
© Mark Z. Barabak/Los Angeles Times
While Kennedy has refrained from commenting on the current court or President Trump, he has written a memoir that explains the reasoning behind the major decisions of his era.
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