“Here I was on a ship in the Persian Gulf, with very little connection to the outside world, and someone was running wild with my money back stateside.” That reader continues his long story below—but first, here are a few short anecdotes from readers. Stephanie writes:
Have I ever been hacked? Sure, lots of times. I had my identity stolen several times when I lived in California, even before the internet was a thing. One of those thieves opened credit accounts and went bankrupt, which made for a real mess when I tried to get my first credit card. About once a year, I have to close a credit account because of fraud. Usually, I am notified by the issuing card company of suspicious activity.
My father lost his life savings in several accounts when thieves stole his debit card and checks. One of my email accounts has been hacked. My Facebook page has been hacked. So yeah, I’ve had experience with this.
So has this reader:
Who hasn’t been hacked? I’ve had my checking account compromised in a major way six times in eight years and many smaller breaches, but I’ll just tell you about nos. 2 and 3.
Someone bought $6,000 of furniture in Italy (we are in NJ) so that brought us down to $0.00 on the first of the month. Naturally we were at the bank within minutes and everything was fixed to our absolute satisfaction. This was on a Sunday.
Then on Tuesday our account was drained again, with our new debit card numbers. Within two days, how could this happen? Somewhat hysterical, I was allowed to reach the Fraud Investigation Department of our national bank. He told me they had 250 employees who investigated fraud. This was almost a decade ago. Wow, he had no idea yet how the first event happened but was quite sure the second one came from a hidden camera at an ATM machine which at that time was a fairly new method, at least to me.
Here’s the scoop now: I check my account online almost every day. I don’t know if that sets me up for vandalism or not, but I have caught untoward things before they roll out of control—recently a small charge for something on my card but using my husband’s name. This is apparently a practice to see if the account is valid before they do the big hit.
I am resigned that this is going to keep happening despite all efforts by the banks. It is a new world and realize that and watch your bank account daily.
Just a few weeks ago, I got a text alert from my bank asking if I charged 29 cents on my credit card in Georgia. I’m in D.C., and I can’t imagine ever buying something for 29 cents, let alone with a credit card, so the bank promptly cancelled my card and sent me a new one—but the mailing address was muddled and it didn’t arrive for a while, causing a bit of a headache while I was traveling to Minnesota over Thanksgiving. But this reader had it much worse:
I am a midshipman at the United States Naval Academy, and I along with many of my shipmates were a part of the OPM breach. However, my story is about a different, more common hack: getting your credit or debit card information stolen. This happened at around the same time as the OPM breach, so it may or may not be related.
As part of the training at the Naval Academy, midshipmen after their first year are sent a ship in the fleet to shadow an enlisted sailor for a month. I was lucky to be sent to USS Rushmore while she was on deployment in the Persian Gulf. It was a great experience where I was able to see the terrific people that we have in our Navy.
I kept in touch with my family through Facebook messages over the ship’s extremely slow satellite internet connection. One day, about two weeks in, I got a message from my family that my bank, Navy Federal Credit Union, had contacted them about fraudulent charges.
Here I was in the middle of the Persian Gulf, with very little connection to the outside world, and someone was running wild with my money back stateside. I contacted the officer in charge of us midshipmen on the ship, and she was able to allow me to use the ship’s satellite phone to call Navy Federal and sort this out. We went through the recent charges and I identified which were fraudulent. Interestingly enough for the worker on the other end of the call, the fraudulent charges were from convenience stores in Pennsylvania, not from the Amsterdam airport or Bahrain.
Navy Federal has a very good policy for this sort of thing, and I was not liable for the charges at all. As midshipmen, we do not get paid very much. However, my card had to be canceled, so now I had no access to money on the other side of the world. I had no money for liberty in Dubai and no money during my travel back stateside. In our mandatory cybersecurity classes at the Academy, we would call this result an attack on the cybersecurity pillar of Availability.
I was lucky to have good midshipmen friends who helped me out during this crisis, and I eventually payed them back. However, theft of credit card information is extremely common. These days, it is not really a question of if, but when. A young enlisted sailor who is in a more precarious situation than I am could be put in a pretty bad place. That sailor might not regularly contact someone back home, and may return from deployment nine months later to see this problem become way out of hand.
Our servicemembers are particularly vulnerable to this kind of thing, especially when they are on deployment, but it is extremely difficult to prevent this sort of hack. The best defense is probably early alert procedures and a generous policy for resolving fraudulent charges on service member’s accounts after the fact.
Thank you for soliciting these responses, I’ll be interested to see other stories.
If you have your own story, especially one that don’t involve money theft—private emails? private texts? your online dating or porn history? sensitive work info? —please send us a note: email@example.com (we would post it anonymously). Update from another reader:
Several years ago I had my identity stolen and apparently sold to a variety of thieves, who attempted to open about a dozen credit-card accounts with my info. I filed numerous federal and local reports, retained services of an Identity Theft consultant for a year (paid for by my insurance company), spent dozens of hours on the phone, and created voluminous files and records of the entire situation to share with law enforcement, credit bureaus (all three), bank credit card fraud prevention managers, etc..
Our local sheriff’s department detective was very sympathetic but basically told me they accepted reports but didn’t investigate these (frequent) crimes because they didn’t have resources, even though we provided the addresses of phony drop boxes in our state where the thieves were obviously picking up the mailed credit cards had they been successful open obtaining any.
The three credit bureaus are totally unhelpful in helping to resolve these crimes. They apparently see them as a chance to sell you more fraud-detection software and will only place a mandated long-term (seven-year) block on your credit records (rather than the year or less they grudgingly offer) if you can provide copies of local reports to law enforcement plus the Federal Trade Commission ID Theft report. In other words, they are more interested in converting your problem into a revenue source for themselves. Federal legislation around the credit bureaus is as full of loopholes as Swiss cheese, due no doubt to their extensive lobbying efforts to our elected representatives who are supposed to be protecting citizens’ interest.
Then, to add even more grief to the experience, one friendly bank-fraud-prevention manager was kind enough to tell me that, based on his lengthy experience with these activities, once we got the fraudulent requests stopped, we could look forward to having it all start up again in about six months—which is apparently the maximum amount of time most people are able to get the credit bureaus to flag their accounts. And sure enough, after just about six months to the day, we had more fraudulent credit-card requests start hitting again—fewer this time, probably because the crooks figured out pretty quickly we had placed the seven-year-block flags in place, rather than the usual short-term blocks most victims end up with at the bureaus.
This is a big, serious problem that is not getting the attention from our elected officials it deserves. These slime balls can reach out from anywhere in the world to ruin your life, mostly with impunity, and it’s obviously getting much worse, since we’re seeing hackers now being accused of breaking into government systems and influencing our elections. This is totally a federal issue because of the state (and national) border lines crossed in the activity. Our national security and military tech specialists probably already have the capability to catch these criminals, they just need the motivation and direction from our political leaders paying attention to the number of honest taxpayers who are being preyed upon.
Suffering a data breach is like discovering that someone rummaged through your bag when you weren’t looking. It’s a jarring invasion of privacy, whether the information stolen is as impersonal as a Social Security number or as intimate as years of emails, texts, and pics. For years, The Atlantic has been covering cyberattacks that target individuals, companies, and even the U.S. government—and the ways those intrusions affect personal, financial, and national security. We’ve compiled some of our best coverage in a new landing page, “The Atlantic Revisited: Navigating the End of Privacy,” and below are brief descriptions of those 18 pieces from our archives.
Everything Is Hackable ...
The U.S. presidential election captured the interest of leaders the world over—even inspiring some to try and influence the outcome. The U.S. Intelligence Community accused Russia of trying to manipulate the outcome of the election, but experts are divided on whether the digital interference is just a 21st-century version of politics as usual, or if it represents an unprecedented level of meddling in U.S. domestic affairs. (“What the DNC Hack Could Mean for Democracy,” Uri Friedman, August 2016)
For millions of people in the U.S., the internet went down for hours one Friday in October. The culprit: A botnet made up of poorly secured DVRs and webcams. Someone had commandeered hundreds of thousands of the internet-connected devices, turning them into pawns in a coordinated attack against a critical piece of the internet’s infrastructure. (“How a Bunch of Hacked DVR Machines Took Down Twitter and Reddit,” Robinson Meyer, October 2016)
When the Office of Personnel Management was hacked last year, more than 22 million people had their sensitive personal information—including Social Security numbers, addresses, and, in some cases, even fingerprints—stolen. When the victims got letters in the mail saying their information was taken, they had to reckon with the new risk of identity theft, and take action to protect themselves. (“Your Data Is Compromised. (Yes, Yours.) What Now?,” Kaveh Waddell, July 2015)
An online tool offered by the Internal Revenue Service allows taxpayers to easily check their tax history, but for a while, it didn’t do a good job of verifying users’ identities. Hackers used personal information gleaned from other data breaches to trick the tool into divulging people’s tax documents, which helped them file around $50 million in fraudulent tax returns. The breach was initially estimated to affect about 115,000 people, but after further investigations, the government realized that the victims numbered nearly 725,000. (“The IRS Hack Was Twice as Bad as We Thought,” Kaveh Waddell, February 2016)
Executives and employees at Sony Pictures woke up one day in 2014 to find their dirty laundry posted online—and indexed for easy searching—after a group calling itself the “Guardians of Peace” stole a trove of emails, salary information, and other sensitive data from the entertainment company. The FBI pointed fingers at North Korea, but security experts questioned whether it was possible to know exactly who was behind the cyberattack. (“We Still Don’t Know Who Hacked Sony,” Bruce Schneier, January 2015)
When Ashley Madison, a website that helps adults find extramarital affairs, was hacked, it was more than just mortifying for the millions of outed users. It was an introduction to “organizational doxing,” the practice of stealing enormous amounts of data from a company or government agency and publishing it online, heedless of the collateral damage it will cause. (“The Meanest Email You Ever Wrote, Searchable on the Internet,” Bruce Schneier, September 2015)
A hospital in Los Angeles switched to paper records and started turning patients away after its computer systems were infected with a virus that locked up vital data—and demanded a $3.6 million ransom to return it. (“A Hospital Paralyzed by Hackers,” Kaveh Waddell, February 2016)
Nude photos of female celebrities ricocheted across the internet after they were stolen from the celebs’ iCloud accounts and released online. But despite years of attempts to pass legislation that would slap special penalties on people distributing explicit images of people without their consent—a practice also known as “revenge porn”—only a few states actually have such laws on the books. (“Why Congress Won’t Help Jennifer Lawrence,” Lucia Graves, September 2014)
When Deb Fallows found her Gmail account acting funny one day, it wasn’t just a temporary bug: A hacker had gotten into her account and sent fake distress calls to all her closest email contacts, asking for money. In the following days, Deb and her husband, Jim, went on a hunt to regain control of the account, recover years of lost emails, and figure out just what had happened. (“Hacked!,” James Fallows, November 2011)
How long would it take a fake smart toaster, sitting alone in the massive sea of internet-connected devices, to get hacked? Andrew McGill dressed up a rented server to act like a web-connected toaster to see if any hackers would bite—and watched as the next 12 hours brought more than 300 attempts to take over the fake toaster. (“The Inevitability of Being Hacked,” Andrew McGill, October 2016)
Use a wireless keyboard at work or at home? Security researchers have found that many low-end models don’t use industry-standard security practices, instead transmitting between keyboard and computer with weak encryption—or no encryption at all. With the right tools, a hacker can spy on every email, password, and credit-card number being typed on a vulnerable keyboard nearby. (“Hackers Can Spy on Wireless Keyboards From Hundreds of Feet Away,” Kaveh Waddell, July 2016)
Have you ever been hacked? Were you, for example, one of the 22 million people caught up in the OPM breach? Have you had your email account compromised like Deb’s? Have your photos or other sensitive files been stolen? We would like to hear from you. Please send us a note about the experience to firstname.lastname@example.org and we will aim to post it here in Notes (anonymously, if you prefer).
… So, How Do We Defend Ourselves From the Hacker Onslaught? Here are several pieces that approach that question:
A team of 600 Homeland Security Department employees (and 400 contractors) works with private companies to secure infrastructure and public utilities around the country, from major-league ballparks to water plants to banks. They prepare for attacks that might be delivered by a suicide bomber driving a truck—or quietly over the internet. (“Meet the People Who Protect America’s Critical Infrastructure, Steven Brill, August 2016)
China’s cyber army is one of the top two or three online threats to the U.S., experts say. But the best way to contain the danger may be to work with, rather than isolate, China’s leaders. (“Cyber Warriors,” James Fallows, March 2010)
The two groups most dedicated to keeping the internet safe are sequestered on opposite coasts: the government’s suited and military-uniformed policy wonks in Washington, and hoodie-clad hackers up and down the West Coast. Getting them to work together is crucial, but it isn’t always easy. (“Suits and Hoodies: The Two Cybersecurity Cultures,” Justin Lynch, February 2015)
One afternoon in late October, teams of college-age hackers assembled in a room in Washington, D.C., and assailed a model water-treatment plant with cyberattacks, quickly bringing it to a screeching halt. Recruiters from Uber, Northrop Grumman, and the federal government flitted from table to table, eager to snap up young talent to help secure their own systems against attacks. (“Inside a Hacking Competition to Take Down a Water-Treatment Plant,” Kaveh Waddell, October 2016)
Skilled “white-hat” hackers—security researchers who use their computer skills to protect organizations from online threats—are always in short supply. But to keep them from being lured into illegal hacking, companies may have to be willing to pay out bigger salaries and “bounties.” (“When Ethical Hacking Can’t Compete,” Donna Lu, December 2015)
Apple’s standoff with the FBI over a locked smartphone that belonged to one of the San Bernardino shooters showed off the quality of the iPhone’s security safeguards. Most phones on the market wouldn’t have stood up to the federal government’s attempts to hack them. (“Encryption Is a Luxury,” Kaveh Waddell, March 2016)
Trump does little to hide his disdain for journalists—or his desire to sue them when he disagrees with what they write. It’s more important than ever for reporters and activists to protect their data and communication from prying eyes, but these tips—which touch on encrypted messaging, managing passwords, and browsing the internet anonymously—are just as relevant for our average reader. (“How Can Journalists Protect Themselves During a Trump Administration?,” Kaveh Waddell, November 2016)
In that last piece, I sketched out some ways you can protect yourself and your data from the prying eyes of hackers:
Signal, a smartphone app, is the medium of choice for privacy-conscious communicators, and is probably the easiest way to call or text securely. Encrypting email using PGP is also an option, but it’s far more cumbersome.
It’s also important to make up complex passwords—and never to reuse a username and password combination for more than one site. Password managers like 1Password, LastPass, and Dashlane can create a different randomized password for every website, and remember them all so that you don’t have to.
Turning on two-factor authentication on every service that supports it—Google, Slack, Dropbox, Amazon, etc.—makes it much harder for hackers to get into your accounts, by requiring you to approve every login with a mobile device. And for those who need to browse the internet securely, a properly configured Tor browser allows users to poke around the web anonymously.
Do you have any additional tips for how to keep your data safe? Please send us a note: email@example.com.
I’m no computer expert, but I’ve read that a risk of using an unencrypted router for your home WiFi exposes you to someone parking outside your house (or in the next apartment) and poaching your WiFi to access and download material for their own purposes, such as child-porn, which could be traceable to passing through your system.
Indeed, there’s this cautionary tale: “Innocent Man Accused Of Child Pornography After Neighbor Pirates His WiFi.” There’s this quick guide from PC Mag to help protect you from the same fate. Another reader adds, “There was this case in England in 2003”:
Last October, local police knocked on his door, searched his home and seized his computer. They found no sign of pornography in his home but discovered 172 images of child pornography on the computer’s hard drive. They arrested Mr. Green.
This month, Mr. Green was acquitted in Exeter Crown Court after arguing that the material had been gathered without his knowledge by a rogue program created by hackers—a so-called Trojan horse—that had infected his PC, probably during innocent Internet surfing. Mr. Green, 45, is one of the first people to use this defense successfully.
As for the question of “receiving” illegal images, I am reminded of the 1967 action of the Yippies, mailing joints to 3,000 randomly chosen strangers, with a letter pointing out that receiving drugs was a federal crime, and they might as well smoke it.
Earlier this week on The Atlantic, security expert Bruce Schneier took stock of our collective anxieties in the wake of the Ashley Madison hack. Is our online activity ever really private? A reader takes that worry a step further:
In a non-material realm where all data can be fabricated and easily transferred, what’s to prevent hackers from framing people?
The example I keep returning to is Internet child porn. In the case of criminal offenses like that, the presumption of innocence tends to get hindered from the outset by the severity of the charge. The mere accusation is enough to put someone under a cloud of suspicion, or to impeach their credibility. And it seems to me that anyone who can hack a computer network can also compromise someone's home computer to plant files on it.
I have to say, I don’t know enough about either computers, the “cloud,” or the workings of child porn investigations to know whether it’s actually possible to frame someone for information found on their computer that’s put there without them suspecting it. I know even less about how much of a challenge that might present, or how to protect oneself against that vulnerability.
I only know that planting child porn, or terrorism-related information, or participation in some Darknet market illegal business, or adding someone’s personal info to a website like Ashley Madison without their knowledge, seems like an obvious gambit for a dirty trick.
In my observation, people who dismiss this possibility as mere paranoia are people who have never found themselves in the middle of a political controversy, or a nasty divorce, or cutthroat competition in business, or other sorts of professional or personal rivalries. Some people are up for soliciting murder, after all. It stands to reason that a somewhat larger number of people would be willing to ruin someone or eliminate them by planting evidence on their computer—or by hiring someone to do that—in a New York minute. After all, someone was willing to do this.
I’d be interested in learning anything more about that risk that I could find out from other readers.
The fact that many child porn cases are for “receiving” illegal material indicates that arranging for certain kinds of stuff to be emailed to a person might be enough to make trouble for that person. And since we all get tons of spam email offering us adulterous relationships, chemical aphrodisiacs, or genital enlargement, it seems like about 100 percent of people online could be smeared easily if someone was so inclined.
I have no idea how high the bar is set for legal action, but the stories you see in the news often sound like they contain much more outrage than innocence. However, legal action isn’t needed if your goal is to hound, humiliate, and harass some poor person over crap they “received” over the internet.
A perfect confluence of events created a stealth killer.
It was 1996, Bill Clinton was president, and endangered bald eagles were dying in his home state of Arkansas.
Twenty-nine were found dead at a man-made reservoir called DeGray Lake, before deaths spread to two other lakes. But what really puzzled scientists was how the eagles acted before they died. The stately birds were suddenly flying straight into cliff faces. They hit trees. Their wings drooped. Even on solid ground, they stumbled around as if drunk.
“We weren’t in the political limelight that often,” says Carol Meteyer, who was then a pathologist for the National Wildlife Health Center, a usually obscure federal agency that investigates animal deaths. But as the toll rose, to more than 70 eagles in total, the mass die-off of America’s national bird in the president’s home state took on outsize symbolic importance. Scientists around the country were detailed to the case, but they kept coming up empty: It wasn’t botulism. It wasn’t heavy metals. It wasn’t pesticides. It didn’t seem to be anything known to man. “About the only thing that hasn’t been tested for is second-hand cigarette smoke,” an official told The New York Times in 1998. “We’ve even had people calling in suggesting that it’s radiation from outer space.”
New revelations show the CNN anchor betrayed his obligation to his viewers.
Andrew Cuomo’s resignation as governor of New York might have been a godsend for CNN. The network faced a nearly intractable conflict of interest: The governor was a major national figure, but his brother, Chris, was also one of CNN’s prime-time stars. Instead, the fallout from Andrew Cuomo’s departure has made Chris Cuomo’s position untenable. He should resign; if he doesn’t, CNN should sack him.
On Monday, New York Attorney General Letitia James, whose investigation into sexual-harassment complaints against the Democratic governor precipitated his August resignation, released new documents that show how Chris mixed his roles as brother and broadcaster. The documents show that he was engaged in passing information to a top aide to the governor, Melissa DeRosa, as his brother’s team scrambled to respond to accusations. “I have a lead on the wedding girl,” he texted DeRosa, referring to a woman who complained that Andrew had made an unwanted advance at a wedding.
Like it or not, the way we work has already evolved.
In 2019, Steven Spielbergcalled for a ban on Oscar eligibility for streaming films, claiming that “movie theaters need to be around forever” and that audiences had to be given “the motion picture theatrical experience” for a movie to be a movie. Spielberg’s fury was about not only the threat that streaming posed to the in-person viewing experience but the ways in which the streaming giant Netflix reported theatrical grosses and budgets, despite these not being the ways in which one evaluates whether a movie is good or not. Netflix held firm, saying that it stood for “everyone, everywhere [enjoying] releases at the same time,” and for “giving filmmakers more ways to share art.” Ultimately, Spielberg balked, and last month his company even signed a deal with Netflix, likely because he now sees the writing on the wall: Modern audiences enjoy watching movies at home.
The film is a face-off between two visions of the American West—one of promise and the other of hostility.
The banjo may seem like an innocent instrument, but in The Power of the Dog, it’s downright menacing. The swaggering rancher Phil Burbank (played by Benedict Cumberbatch) at the center of Jane Campion’s new film is introduced as a thin-skinned bully who’s quick to insult those around him. But I didn’t realize what a frightening character he was going to be until Phil retired to his bed, pulled out a banjo, and started angrily plucking at it; that humble string instrument hasn’t been played so malevolently on-screen since the notorious “dueling banjos” of Deliverance.
Campion’s first feature film in 12 years, based on the novel of the same name by Thomas Savage, is set on a 1925 Montana ranch that’s surrounded by spiky mountains and acres of barren landscape filled with both promise and hostility. There, Phil has proudly carved out a lonely existence for himself as a cattle herder, while his full-hearted brother, George (Jesse Plemons), is dissatisfied with their spartan life and seeking companionship. Into this dynamic wanders local widow Rose (Kirsten Dunst) and her son, Peter (Kodi Smit-McPhee). George marries Rose, seeing the newcomers as the beginning of a real family, but Phil derides them as too weak for life on the range.
The film’s lead is reprehensible and self-aggrandizing––and mesmerizing to watch.
Mikey Saber, the preening, confident chump who’s the ostensible hero of Sean Baker’s new film, Red Rocket, enters on-screen to a loud and familiar tune: “Bye Bye Bye,” by *NSync. The song is a piece of mainstream pop from yesteryear (it’s a shiver-inducing 21 years old), and its usage in this arty indie film seems laced with irony. Baker knows, though, that for all its non-subtlety, “Bye Bye Bye” is still as catchy as it was the day of its release, and he uses it to suggest the same of Mikey (played by Simon Rex): He’s his own kind of relic, rolling back into his hometown after a failed career in Los Angeles, but he’s still got a glint of charm to him.
Baker has always told small-scale stories set on the margins of America—2015’s Tangerinewas a bittersweet Christmas tale about trans sex workers, and 2017’s The Florida Project was about “hidden homeless” families living in a motel. Both of those films were empathetic works about people enduring incredibly challenging circumstances—Baker, who often casts first-time actors in his work, is a master of displaying unvarnished truth on-screen. Red Rocket is far more sour than sweet, but that’s part of the point; Mikey is a reprehensible fellow, but he’s clawed his way through life by sheer force of will, and as such, the camera simply can’t look away.
As we peer around the corner of the pandemic, let’s talk about what we want to do—and not do—with the rest of our lives.
At the bleakest moment in the pandemic, when you felt your most stressed, most scared, least centered, you probably heard some variation of the phrase This is really hard. Maybe you read it; maybe your manager said it to you; maybe you said it to yourself. But that’s the truth: Our nearly two years of living through a pandemic have been hard. And like everything else in the United States, that difficulty has not been evenly distributed. It has been hardest for those on the front lines, those afraid of how customers will react to their requests to put on a mask, those out of work or in constant fear of the way COVID variants are whipping through their community. It has been hard, in different ways, for those attempting to work and supervise school from home, for those in complete isolation, for those terrified of being around other people. It is fucking hard, in so many intersecting and unfair ways.
The family structure we’ve held up as the cultural ideal for the past half century has been a catastrophe for many. It’s time to figure out better ways to live together.
The scene is one many of us have somewhere in our family history: Dozens of people celebrating Thanksgiving or some other holiday around a makeshift stretch of family tables—siblings, cousins, aunts, uncles, great-aunts. The grandparents are telling the old family stories for the 37th time. “It was the most beautiful place you’ve ever seen in your life,” says one, remembering his first day in America. “There were lights everywhere … It was a celebration of light! I thought they were for me.”
The oldsters start squabbling about whose memory is better. “It was cold that day,” one says about some faraway memory. “What are you talking about? It was May, late May,” says another. The young children sit wide-eyed, absorbing family lore and trying to piece together the plotline of the generations.
There was a time when someone like Alex Jones would have been too toxic to embrace.
Earlier this week, Fox News Channel’s Tucker Carlson, the host of the top-rated news show on cable, rose in defense of the right-wing conspiracy theorist Alex Jones.
“Jones is often mocked for his flamboyance,” Carlson said, “but the truth is he has been a far better guide to reality in recent years—in other words, a far better journalist—than, say, NBC News national-security correspondent Ken Dilanian or Margaret Brennan of CBS.”
Flamboyance is a rather interesting word to apply to Jones; there are others.
Last month Jones, the host of Infowars, was found liable for damages in a defamation lawsuit brought by parents of children killed in the 2012 Sandy Hook Elementary School shooting, whose victims included 20 young children. Jones claimed that the shooting was a “false flag” operation carried out by “crisis actors.” He mocked grieving parents, saying, “I’ve looked at it, and undoubtedly there’s a cover-up, there’s actors, they’re manipulating, they’ve been caught lying, and they were preplanning before it and rolled out with it.”
I spent a lifetime counseling others before my diagnosis. Will I be able to take my own advice?
I have spent a good part of my life talking with people about the role of faith in the face of imminent death. Since I became an ordained Presbyterian minister in 1975, I have sat at countless bedsides, and occasionally even watched someone take their final breath. I recently wrote a small book, On Death, relating a lot of what I say to people in such times. But when, a little more than a month after that book was published, I was diagnosed with pancreatic cancer, I was still caught unprepared.
On the way home from a conference of Asian Christians in Kuala Lumpur in February 2020, I developed an intestinal infection. A scan at the hospital showed what looked like enlarged lymph nodes in my abdomen: No cause for concern, but come back in three months just to check. My book was published. And then, while all of us in New York City were trying to protect ourselves from COVID-19, I learned that I already had an agent of death growing inside me.
“How to Build a Life” is a weekly column by Arthur Brooks, tackling questions of meaning and happiness. Click here to listen to his new podcast series on all things happiness, How to Build a Happy Life.
Everyone—even the most privileged among us—has circumstances they would like to change in their life. As the early sixth-century Roman philosopher Boethius put it, “One has abundant riches, but is shamed by his ignoble birth. Another is conspicuous for his nobility, but through the embarrassments of poverty would prefer to be obscure. A third, richly endowed with both, laments the loneliness of an unwedded life.”
Think about your own life and something causing you stress, anxiety, or sadness. For example, maybe you are struggling to find your job or career interesting and fulfilling. Or maybe you aren’t getting much out of your friendships, and feel lonely. How might you improve the situation? Your answer might be, “I should move, get a new job, and meet new people.” In other words, you should change the outside world to make it better for you.