The return of blogging to the site presents us with a challenge: how to quickly keep abreast of what’s happening in the world while at the same time keeping in mind the sensibility of The Atlantic. In other words, how to be both timely and interesting.
This, of course, will be a work in progress.
What you’ll see here is a mix of what’s happening in the world and what we—and, hopefully, you—find interesting. We’ll start at about 6 a.m. every day with a Note on the news we’re following. There will be a similar note every afternoon. This, we hope, will not only let our readers know the stories we have our eyes on, but also serve as a tip sheet for my colleagues through the day.
Some of the items on these Notes will lend themselves to quick, short stories; others will be the subject of longer, analytical pieces; and there will be still others that will live on solely in the Notes.
Heads up to new visitors of the Notes section: We posted four intros you might want to check out. First, Gould heralded the return of blogging to The Atlantic, then Matt debuted our novel thread function, Krishnadev framed our approach to news, and I invited readers to throw down the gauntlet. I’ve been long anticipating our thread function, which is our modest attempt to square the circle of blogging in the age of social media—two things increasingly at odds. Ezra Klein said it best:
[B]logging is a conversation, and conversations don’t go viral. People share things [on Facebook] their friends will understand, not things that you need to have read six other posts to understand. Blogging encourages interjections into conversations, and it thrives off of familiarity. Social media encourages content that can travel all on its own.
Thus, any of our thread-connected notes that travel around the web will carry all the related notes with them. Clicking into a note lands you at the top of the thread page, where you’ll see a brief overview of the blog conversation and—pinned right below—the note you clicked to see. If other notes were published later in time, clicking on the red box will show them instantly. Now it’s a fully displayed thread, with the newest notes at the top. (Clicking on an “oldest” toggle orders them chronologically, to catch up from the beginning.) This is all much easier to show than tell—and this note is currently in a thread as well, so look around.
So far we have two threads going: one on the new campus P.C. and one on the Notes launch (a thread you’re currently in). We can’t wait to use this function for live-blogging. Soon I’ll be adding to this thread a bunch of your emails responding to the Notes launch, but for now, here’s one email at the very top of our inbox for firstname.lastname@example.org:
I’m excited about what you guys are up to. The state of the blog and hubs and the stream and social media are an ongoing point of interest (and conversation) for me and several of my friends.
I’m not excited that I can’t find an RSS feed for just the Notes section, though. Any chance that’s a hint you guys will make happen, or do the vagaries of advertising-driven publishing simply make it not doable?
RSS is at the very top of our to-do list right now and should be live tomorrow, but we’ll keep you updated.
Finally, for this first full day of blogging, some major props are needed: Frankie Dintino and Paul Nicholsen on the incredible job building Notes, Libby Bawcombe and Darhil Crooks on design, and Clarissa Matthews and Betsy Ebersole on product direction. And one more shout-out:
Thanks, Paul’s mom. Now to regain a bunch of sleep ...
Anti-Trump Republicans say Bush’s absence from 2020 is inexcusable. Bush’s office says he’s staying retired.
Updated at 1:43 p.m. ET on October 19, 2020.
George W. Bush doesn’t like Donald Trump. He doesn’t like how Trump is behaving as president. He clearly doesn’t like the division in the country Trump has fostered. He knows American democracy is under threat. He has tried to be reassuring, telling people that America has survived rough times before—a way of using insistent optimism to diplomatically acknowledge the rough time the nation is going through now.
With less than three weeks until the election, Bush—as the only living former Republican president—would be in a position to stand up for American democracy if Trump loses but refuses to concede, as he has threatened to do.
Republicans understand that Barrett’s confirmation is coming just a week before a potential electoral “bloodbath.” They don’t care.
Senate Republicans were always going to confirm Amy Coney Barrett to a lifetime appointment on the Supreme Court. Conservative voters wanted it, and the party united around the concept. Republicans “believe voting on this justice is a constitutional duty. The nomination happened. There was time to get it done. So they got it done,” Steven Duffield, a Republican former senior Senate aide, told me. Even the highest-ranking Republican leaders aren’t shy about admitting that this may be the party’s last gasp before losing political power for a while. “A lot of what we’ve done over the last four years will be undone sooner or later by the next election,” Republican Senate Majority Leader Mitch McConnell said during a speech yesterday. The Democrats “won’t be able to do much about this for a long time to come.”
The Constitution should be the sturdy vessel of our ideals and aspirations, not a derelict sailing ship locked in the ice of a world far from our own.
During her confirmation hearings, Amy Coney Barrett argued that the judicial philosophy known as “originalism” should guide judges in their interpretation and application of constitutional principles. Most famously associated with the late Justice Antonin Scalia (for whom Judge Barrett clerked), this idea sounds simple and sensible: In determining what the Constitution permits, a judge must first look to the plain meaning of the text, and if that isn’t clear, then apply what was in the minds of the 55 men who wrote it in 1787. Period. Anything else is “judicial lawmaking.”
In some cases, interpreting the Constitution with an originalist lens is pretty easy; for example, the Constitution says that the president must be at least 35 years old (“35” means, well, 35), that each state has two senators (not three and not one), and that Congress is authorized to establish and support an Army and a Navy. But wait a minute. What about the Air Force? Is it mentioned in the text? Nope. Is there any ambiguity in the text? Again, no. It doesn’t say “armed forces”; it explicitly says “Army” and “Navy.” Did the Framers have in mind the Air Force 115 years before the Wright brothers? Not likely.
If you hate wokeness, you should vote for Joe Biden.
A number of influential commentators who firmly opposed Donald Trump in 2016 recently announced their intention to vote for him in 2020. Nearly all of them, including James Lindsay, Danielle Pletka, and Ben Shapiro, blamed illiberalism on the left. As Shapiro said on his popular show, he is planning to vote for Trump because “Democrats have lost their fucking minds.”
“Our boyfriends, our significant others, and our husbands are supposed to be No. 1. Our worlds are backward.”
Kami West had been dating her current boyfriend for a few weeks when she told him that he was outranked by her best friend. West knew her boyfriend had caught snatches of her daily calls with Kate Tillotson, which she often placed on speaker mode. But she figured that he, like the men she’d dated before, didn’t quite grasp the nature of their friendship. West explained to him, “I need you to know that she’s not going anywhere. She is my No. 1.” Tillotson was there before him, and, West told him, “she will be there after you. And if you think at any point that this isn’t going to be my No. 1, you’re wrong.”
If West’s comments sound blunt, it’s because she was determined not to repeat a distressing experience from her mid-20s. Her boyfriend at that time had sensed that he wasn’t her top priority. In what West saw as an attempt to keep her away from her friend, he disparaged Tillotson, calling her a slut and a bad influence. After the relationship ended, West, 31, vowed to never let another man strain her friendship. She decided that any future romantic partners would have to adapt to her friendship with Tillotson, rather than the other way around.
I am incredibly worried that he’s not on the same page as me about moving our relationship forward.
My boyfriend and I have been together for nearly two years now. It’s overall a wonderful relationship that brings us both so much happiness. We’re very well suited for each other—similar interests, similar outlooks, but with enough differences to ensure that we’re still our own individuals. It is by far the happiest and healthiest relationship I’ve ever had.
At the beginning of the pandemic, I moved into his apartment, and a few weeks ago we made this a permanent living situation. However, this latter step was not without its issues. My roommates all decided that they were moving out, so the decision not to renew my lease was actually not mine. When I brought up living together officially, my boyfriend immediately went on the defensive and asked for time to think about it.
Our persuasion rate is much higher than that of traditional electioneering efforts.
Last year, before the pandemic, I stood on the front porch of a house near Harrisburg, Pennsylvania, while the homeowner, a former military man, heaved pro-Trump talking points at me. His anger was palpable. He was upset about the state of health care. He blamed immigrants. With a clipboard in my hand, I listened carefully to everything he had to say.
I am the director of People’s Action, an organization of working-class and low-income people. I was in Pennsylvania as part of deep-canvass efforts targeting rural and small-town voters, testing whether patient, nonjudgmental conversations about race, immigration, health care, and the economy can help people reexamine their views, and perhaps even lead them to vote for Joe Biden instead of Donald Trump.
The pandemic has broken Americans’ understanding of what to fear.
On a normal day, the White House is one of the safest buildings in the world. Secret Service snipers stand guard on the roof, their aim tested monthly to ensure their accuracy up to 1,000 feet. Their heavily armed colleagues patrol the ground below and staff security checkpoints. Belgian Malinois guard dogs lie in wait for anyone who manages to jump the property’s massive iron fence.
But safety means something different in a pandemic. Over the past few days, several aides to Vice President Mike Pence, including his chief of staff, have tested positive for the coronavirus. The outbreak is the second in the White House in a month, after dozens of people, including President Donald Trump himself, tested positive following the apparent super-spreader event hosted by the administration to celebrate the Supreme Court nominee Amy Coney Barrett.
The vocalist flaunted her personality, not her pipes—in an assertion that her stardom is bigger than singing.
It’s been almost five years since Adele Adkins released new music. Her last album, 25, delivered emotional, vocally masterful, classicist pop just in time to soothe listeners during taxing election seasons in the U.S. and U.K. An excellent Saturday Night Live sketch back then even posited that her hit “Hello” could be the one thing to bring together feuding family members at Thanksgiving dinners. Continuing Adele’s streak of blazing commercial success, 25 ended up being the best-selling album in the world that year.
With campaign stress—and the melancholic chill of sweater weather—in the air again, now would seem an ideal time for listeners to be comforted by her voice once more. Earlier this year, Adele told congregants at a wedding that 25’s follow-up would arrive in September, but that month came and went without any new music from her. There was, however, one tantalizing bit of news: Adele was booked to play last night’s SNL. Today, her status as the queen of heartbreak remains intact; the role she played was not musical guest but teasing, affable, yet ultimately unmemorable host.
What the happiest Springsteen album in decades can teach us about Joe Biden, the wisdom of maturity, and the meaning of life
I recently saw a photo of Lyndon B. Johnson in the first year of his presidency. He looked like a classic old guy—wrinkled, mature, in the late season of life. It was a shock to learn that he was only 55 at the time, roughly the same age as Chris Rock is now. He left the presidency, broken, and beaten, at 60, the same age as, say, Colin Firth is now.
Something has happened to aging. Whether because of better diet or health care or something else, a 73-year-old in 2020 looks like a 53-year-old in 1935. The speaker of the House is 80 and going strong. The presidential candidates are 77 and 74. Even our rock stars are getting up there. Bob Dylan produced a remarkable album this year at 79. Bruce Springsteen released an album today at 71. “Active aging” is now a decades-long phase of life. As the nation becomes a gerontocracy, it’s worth pondering: What do people gain when they age, and what do they lose? What does successful aging look like?