The staff of Mother Jones is, once again, rounding up the heroes and monsters of the past year. Importantly, this is a completely non-exhaustive and subjective list, giving our reporters a chance to write about something that brought joy or discontent. Enjoy.

The appointees for the incoming administration are a mix of woefully uncredentialed and downright dangerous. Several, including the president-elect himself, share another common denominator: They stand accused of sexual misconduct.

But this trend is not limited to those who seek to serve Donald Trump. In New York, Andrew Cuomo and Anthony Weiner, two politicos forced to resign over their own sexual misconduct scandals, apparently believe that 2025 is the year they return to the public arena. The positions Cuomo and Weiner reportedly seek? Cuomo is thirsting for the New York City mayorship, a post already engulfed in controversy after the current monster, Eric Adams, was indicted on a slew of federal corruption charges. As for Weiner, he’s registered as a candidate for a New York City Council seat.

So is something in the water? What could compel two disreputable men, bona fide sex pests, to believe that they are the leaders New York needs?

Cuomo, who has not formally announced his bid to replace Adams, would mark a political comeback for the books following his 2021 resignation as New York governor after a string of damning sexual harassment allegations. A federal Justice Department investigation later concluded that he indeed sexually harassed 13 women who worked for the state. The same report found that Cuomo and his staff frequently retaliated against his accusers. He has since echoed Trumpian talking points, blaming “coup” forces and so-called “cancel culture” for his spectacular demise. (Remember, this is a guy once widely considered as a potential, if not inevitable, contender for Democratic presidential nominee.)

Weiner, of course, served 18 months in prison after sending explicit photos to a 15-year-old girl. That investigation into the former New York congressman and ex-husband to Huma Abedin, Hillary Clinton’s longtime aide, led the FBI to stumble upon those Clinton emails; many in Clinton-world blame Weiner for her 2016 presidential collapse. But Weiner’s sordid sexual history goes even further back. He has an extensive record of sending sexually explicit photos, many while married and some of which were sent using the now-infamous alias Carlos Danger. Following his conviction, Weiner was forced to register as a sex offender.

The downfalls of these men were never the result of one-off mistakes or fleeting errors of judgment that could justify the case for a second chance. Instead, Cuomo and Weiner—and, perhaps more crucially, their reported interests in returning to government—are symptomatic of what ails many men: a refusal to be held accountable, with barely a concern given to those left hurt. We see this play out all the time. The denials of Gisèle Pelicot’s humanity. The manosphere. “Your body, my choice.” As for the public, most folks are happy to settle into comfy amnesia should the occasion benefit them, whether that’s because the circumstances are entertaining—after all, everyone loves a comeback story—or whatever reason you could explain Trump’s return to power.

But perhaps most of all, it’s entitlement. That unshakeable belief in your own promise, no matter how poorly you’ve behaved or how much hurt you’ve imparted. Here’s to hoping New Yorkers reject any efforts to reward such a humiliating delusion.

Weeks before the Supreme Court’s emergency session that could determine the fate of TikTok in the United States, Donald Trump on Friday issued a legal filing asking the high court to pause the law that would ban the Chinese-owned social media app if it isn’t sold by January 19.

The filing did not comment on the legal arguments of the law, which was signed under President Biden over national security concerns that have mounted in recent years. Instead, it touted Trump as “one of the most powerful, prolific, and influential users of social media in history,” noting his 14.7 million followers on TikTok. The president also echoed TikTok’s arguments that the law illegally restricts the First Amendment.

The filing marks the latest chapter in Trump’s shifting views regarding the popular app after he tried, and failed, to ban it in 2020. After meeting with TikTok’s CEO earlier this month, Trump hinted at possibly intervening before the law’s implementation, saying that he had a “warm spot” for the platform. In March, Trump experienced a similar reversal following a meeting with Jeff Yass, a conservative hedge-fund manager who happens to have a $33 billion stake in TikTok. All of this has come against the backdrop of Trump’s increasing coziness with some of tech’s most prominent billionaires.

D. John Sauer, Trump’s lawyer and nominee for solicitor general, wrote on Friday: “President Trump takes no position on the underlying merits of this dispute. Instead, he respectfully requests that the Court consider staying the Act’s deadline for divestment of January 19, 2025, while it considers the merits of this case, thus permitting President Trump’s incoming Administration the opportunity to pursue a political resolution of the questions at issue in the case.”

Whether the conservative Supreme Court with three Trump appointees will see the president-elect’s views as mere recommendations or as marching orders will be determined soon. As it stands now, the federal ban will go into effect next month—just one day before Trump’s inauguration, when as my colleague Pema Levy reports, an unprecedented era of political corruption will begin.

Update, December 28: This story has been updated to reflect Donald Trump’s position on the H1-B visa program.

Less than a month before Donald Trump returns to office, two of his most ardent allies have plunged into a fierce online debate over immigration, specifically the government’s visa program that allows American companies to hire so-called “highly skilled” foreign workers.

The clash started on Monday with Laura Loomer, the far-right social media character known for her virulent racism, condemning Trump’s decision to name Sriram Krishnan, a tech investor who was born in India, as a senior adviser on artificial intelligence. Tech leaders, including Elon Musk, weighed in to defend the practice of hiring foreign workers, specifically through the government’s H-1B visa program. (Musk, a naturalized US citizen from South Africa, once held the visa.) The debate has since devolved into a relentless string of petty insults—Loomer likened tech billionaires to “termites” at Mar-a-Lago; Musk called Loomer a troll—as well as accusations of censorship on X as retaliation. At a different point, Vivek Ramaswamy chimed in to register his support for hiring foreign workers. The former presidential candidate and now-DOGE partner blamed an American culture that has so “venerated mediocrity over excellence” that tech companies have no other option but to hire engineers from abroad.

One might be tempted to view this MAGA infighting as a signal that Musk may not be as extreme as the other faithful. Could this mean that the tech billionaire who openly embraced some of MAGA’s most pernicious racism and conspiracy theories is capable of restraint, at least when it comes to matters of business and the economy? Such a takeaway from this online war would be a mistake. After all, the tech billionaire, who just last week endorsed Germany’s far-right AfD party, is simply acting as he always does: framing any argument to be of service to himself. For him, immigration policy should be crafted strictly in terms of what is economically beneficial to a company, or individual’s bottom line. Never mind immigrants who are deemed to be less than “highly skilled.”

As for Loomer, at least you can say she’s consistent: her attacks against Musk are just the newest iteration of her long record of xenophobia and shit-posting.

So who will win this MAGA war? Trump has yet to publicly comment on the acrimony—much less the H1B program that set this all off. But it seems safe to say that the president-elect is unlikely to enjoy Musk’s continued dominance in the headlines, offering yet another opportunity for more of the interpersonal chaos that has always been central to MAGA.

Finally, after letting the conflict play out, Trump weighed in on the matter in a Saturday telephone interview with the New York Post. In it, he stated, “I’ve always liked the visas, I have always been in favor of the visas. That’s why we have them. I have many H-1B visas on my properties. I’ve been a believer in H-1B. I have used it many times. It’s a great program.”

So this seems to mean, that in this round, the score is Musk 1/Loomer 0.

Weeks before the Supreme Court’s emergency session that could determine the fate of TikTok in the United States, Donald Trump on Friday issued a legal filing asking the high court to pause the law that would ban the Chinese-owned social media app if it isn’t sold by January 19.

The filing did not comment on the legal arguments of the law, which was signed under President Biden over national security concerns that have mounted in recent years. Instead, it touted Trump as “one of the most powerful, prolific, and influential users of social media in history,” noting his 14.7 million followers on TikTok. The president also echoed TikTok’s arguments that the law illegally restricts the First Amendment.

The filing marks the latest chapter in Trump’s shifting views regarding the popular app after he tried, and failed, to ban it in 2020. After meeting with TikTok’s CEO earlier this month, Trump hinted at possibly intervening before the law’s implementation, saying that he had a “warm spot” for the platform. In March, Trump experienced a similar reversal following a meeting with Jeff Yass, a conservative hedge-fund manager who happens to have a $33 billion stake in TikTok. All of this has come against the backdrop of Trump’s increasing coziness with some of tech’s most prominent billionaires.

D. John Sauer, Trump’s lawyer and nominee for solicitor general, wrote on Friday: “President Trump takes no position on the underlying merits of this dispute. Instead, he respectfully requests that the Court consider staying the Act’s deadline for divestment of January 19, 2025, while it considers the merits of this case, thus permitting President Trump’s incoming Administration the opportunity to pursue a political resolution of the questions at issue in the case.”

Whether the conservative Supreme Court with three Trump appointees will see the president-elect’s views as mere recommendations or as marching orders will be determined soon. As it stands now, the federal ban will go into effect next month—just one day before Trump’s inauguration, when as my colleague Pema Levy reports, an unprecedented era of political corruption will begin.

Update, December 28: This story has been updated to reflect Donald Trump’s position on the H1-B visa program.

Less than a month before Donald Trump returns to office, two of his most ardent allies have plunged into a fierce online debate over immigration, specifically the government’s visa program that allows American companies to hire so-called “highly skilled” foreign workers.

The clash started on Monday with Laura Loomer, the far-right social media character known for her virulent racism, condemning Trump’s decision to name Sriram Krishnan, a tech investor who was born in India, as a senior adviser on artificial intelligence. Tech leaders, including Elon Musk, weighed in to defend the practice of hiring foreign workers, specifically through the government’s H-1B visa program. (Musk, a naturalized US citizen from South Africa, once held the visa.) The debate has since devolved into a relentless string of petty insults—Loomer likened tech billionaires to “termites” at Mar-a-Lago; Musk called Loomer a troll—as well as accusations of censorship on X as retaliation. At a different point, Vivek Ramaswamy chimed in to register his support for hiring foreign workers. The former presidential candidate and now-DOGE partner blamed an American culture that has so “venerated mediocrity over excellence” that tech companies have no other option but to hire engineers from abroad.

One might be tempted to view this MAGA infighting as a signal that Musk may not be as extreme as the other faithful. Could this mean that the tech billionaire who openly embraced some of MAGA’s most pernicious racism and conspiracy theories is capable of restraint, at least when it comes to matters of business and the economy? Such a takeaway from this online war would be a mistake. After all, the tech billionaire, who just last week endorsed Germany’s far-right AfD party, is simply acting as he always does: framing any argument to be of service to himself. For him, immigration policy should be crafted strictly in terms of what is economically beneficial to a company, or individual’s bottom line. Never mind immigrants who are deemed to be less than “highly skilled.”

As for Loomer, at least you can say she’s consistent: her attacks against Musk are just the newest iteration of her long record of xenophobia and shit-posting.

So who will win this MAGA war? Trump has yet to publicly comment on the acrimony—much less the H1B program that set this all off. But it seems safe to say that the president-elect is unlikely to enjoy Musk’s continued dominance in the headlines, offering yet another opportunity for more of the interpersonal chaos that has always been central to MAGA.

Finally, after letting the conflict play out, Trump weighed in on the matter in a Saturday telephone interview with the New York Post. In it, he stated, “I’ve always liked the visas, I have always been in favor of the visas. That’s why we have them. I have many H-1B visas on my properties. I’ve been a believer in H-1B. I have used it many times. It’s a great program.”

So this seems to mean, that in this round, the score is Musk 1/Loomer 0.

The staff of Mother Jones is, once again, rounding up the heroes and monsters of the past year. Importantly, this is a completely non-exhaustive and subjective list, giving our reporters a chance to write about something that brought joy or discontent. Enjoy.

Modern kids’ songs, the stuff of literal torture, are in lockstep with the AI slop that defines the current era of crushing, synthetic sameness. They suck. So you can imagine my surprise, amid a technicolor migraine brought on by the tyranny of “Daddy Finger” one morning, when the algorithm threw out a familiar voice. With equal parts amusement and skepticism, I asked my husband, “Is this the dude from…Fall……………Out Boy?”

I have zero affection for Fall Out Boy. If anything, I’m certain I thought I was above this music; that’s what idiot teens on the verge of escaping the suburbs think. But I’m back in the ’burbs and have discovered something surprising.

Indeed, the voice belonged to none other than Patrick Stump, singing the theme song of a TV series beloved by my 3-year-old son, Spidey and His Amazing Friends. And there was Stump again on the vocals of every other song that followed. “Spin, Spin, Spin,” “Trace-E Shake,” “Time to Spidey Save the Day,” and so forth. Over the course of the soundtrack, I found myself tickled, even intrigued to hear where Stump would take Team Spidey. And after weeks of marathon listening—at home, in the car, on vacation—my sanity remains strangely intact.

Which isn’t to say that I enjoyed the music. Given a choice between silence and Spidey, the former will always be more appealing. Nor do I have an iota of affection for Fall Out Boy, the band that made Stump famous in the early aughts. If anything, I’m certain I thought I was above this music because that’s what idiot teens on the verge of escaping the suburbs think. But exactly 20 years after leaving the ’burbs, I’m back, toddler in tow, understanding that in each of the songs on Spidey and His Amazing Friends, one quality separates Stump from nearly everyone else in the genre: Stump cares. At times, you can even detect passion, as Stump fully commits to the cheer, “Go, webs, go! Go, webs, go! Go, webs go!” He confers on each song the same gusto of younger, noughtier days.

I was suspicious, though. Why would any self-respecting musician do this? Sure, he probably has children to impress. (Two of them, in fact.) But that still didn’t explain his involvement, at least to my satisfaction. That’s when a more shameful curiosity took hold: The guy must really need a paycheck, huh? What else could justify lyrics about shooting “thwips” to web up Zola than a nice Disney paycheck?

But after a few more clicks into my research, it became clear that my thinking was misguided, cruel even. It turns out Stump is quite wealthy, and more importantly, the guy could not have been more enthusiastic to participate in the project. As he told Billboard in 2021:

“Composing and writing all of the music for the series has been incredible because I am such a big Spidey fan,” Stump says. “The theme song for Spidey and His Amazing Friends, you couldn’t pull me away from the studio after I recorded it because I just wanted to add more stuff. I was just so excited. There’s a certain frenetic energy to Spidey—and the webs swinging—that I just wanted to put into it. So it was all of those things sped up and made overexcited, because that’s how I was feeling.”

Now here is a man, similar in age to the adults forced to listen along, showcasing what it means to pivot with grace. To evolve—yes, maybe to lesser forms!—but with the same big ideas you carried when life brimmed with more promise. To still have fun with it, even at the outset of middle age, when life dulls to the logistics of school pickups and a mortgage.

The truth is that my attempts to reckon with why an erstwhile radio fixture was now slinging Spidey songs say a lot more about me than anything else. At 37, I have settled into a comfortable place with the notion of creative mediocrity. But thankfully, others have figured out the tricky balance of aging and creating—something I now think about every time Spidey makes his way back into our car rides. Will a younger ambition return to me one day? I hope so. Who knew a kids’ song could inspire a grown-up?

The staff of Mother Jones is, once again, rounding up the heroes and monsters of the past year. Importantly, this is a completely non-exhaustive and subjective list, giving our reporters a chance to write about something that brought joy or discontent. Enjoy.

Is there any good and normal way to be on social media? It seems like a silly thing to ponder. But against the backdrop of increasingly unhealthy platforms, all the clamoring for our attention with aggressive algorithms and useless information, the question can be clarifying. What the hell are we still doing on this? Is there any hope online?

One affirmative answer could be: Amanda Petrusich.

Now, it isn’t surprising that the writing talents of a staff writer at the New Yorker extend to social media. But discovering Petrusich’s Instagram is like encountering a refuge from artifice. And after stumbling upon her account a little over a year ago—a period that saw a string of not-so-gentle moments in my own life—it’s Petrusich’s window into the private plateaus and valleys of life after her husband, Bret Stetka, suddenly died in 2022 that repeatedly hit me like a brick ever since.

The result has been, to my mind, a rare meditation on grief that avoids the typical trappings of the genre: frustrating platitudes, the insistence that it’s All! Going! To! Be! Okay! That such refreshing authenticity takes place on a platform otherwise teeming with performance makes it all the more extraordinary, each caption seemingly inviting followers to join her on the strange path of bearing it all.

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This applies to Pestrusich’s posts about the acute difficulties of single parenthood to all the small joys that make it that much easier to endure. The occasional martini, the thrill of a sunset after a slog of toddler illnesses, a terrific coffee mug. You see it when Petrusich expresses gratitude for community, even when loss feels everywhere. Because here is an Instagram page that isn’t trying to sell me anything; there are no buttons to smash or sponsored tote bags to purchase. None of it is excessive or performative. It’s just real stuff about hard shit, which in 2024 on Instagram is close to a miracle.

You may not know Petrusich personally. You may not even be familiar with her New Yorker criticism. But follow her on Instagram and you can’t help but root for her. So I reached out to her, the one good and honest Instagram user, about all this. Here she is below in her own words:

I can’t identify the exact moment I stumbled upon your Instagram. But I recall being immediately taken by your openness—what felt, to me, this rare invitation into private corners of grief. Can you take me through your decision process or willingness to be public about your experience?

I started seeing a trauma therapist right after Bret died, when I was still in a state of acute shock and disorientation. I would sit on his little beige couch, unshowered, in the same disgusting sweatshirt I’d been wearing for who knows how long, and he would take his glasses on and off and command me, over and over again, to grieve. At the time, I found this approach aggressive, nearly ridiculous—I was grieving! All I was fucking doing was grieving! Yet I eventually came to understand that directive—grieve—as crushingly profound. Grief is an active process and you have to participate in it with purpose and clarity. Otherwise, your body will do its best to fight the feeling off, like a virus. 

“There’s a funny kind of freedom in being blown apart. Perfection is impossible, and also far less appealing.”

The whole culture of grief, insomuch as there is a culture of grief in America, is hyper-fixated on survival, on ideas of triumph and subjugation, moving on and getting over it. I’m not sure any of those things are possible or even desirable. That way of thinking also leads to a funny kind of binary: Either you’re okay or you’re not okay. Whereas the reality of grief is that you will be both very okay and very not okay. I think maybe the way that I post on Instagram sort of speaks to that duality a little—you know, here’s a picture of a record I love, and here’s a really good martini, and here’s my kid doing something cute, and now I am sad again, and here’s another record, etc. Grief is braided into my life. That works for me—letting it in rather than pushing it out.

In the beginning, I was trying to understand my own loneliness, too. I was living in the woods with a cat and a baby, both beloved and glorious creatures, but also nonverbal, needy, mysterious—the only words my daughter knew at the time were “Mama,” “Dada,” and “wow.” I had never lived on my own before. Bret and I had recently moved from Brooklyn to the Hudson Valley, near where I was born and brought up, but all of my closest friends were still an hour away in the city. Even before Bret died, it had felt like an unusually cloistered and quiet moment in our lives. There were random pandemic restrictions in place. We had a newborn; I was working from home. Then the person I’d spent almost every day of the last 20 years with was gone, quickly and irrevocably, as though he had fallen through a trapdoor. Instagram is not an ideal platform for earnest emoting, but it was easy and immediate and available on my phone. I wanted to be honest about what I was feeling because I was hungry for connection and because not being honest felt antithetical to the work of grief. It has also been useful for me in terms of eradicating or at least softening my own shame about feeling sad.

From afar, you seem to write and think about all of this with such remarkable ease. Personally, I really struggle to get real with my emotions when writing; I find myself constantly reverting to weird forms of self-deprecation. How do you get there? 

Gosh, that’s incredibly kind—thank you. One thing I’ve learned in my career as a critic is that art only works if it’s true. It just has to be true. Over time, I’ve come to recognize tenderness and vulnerability as things I consistently value and seek out in other people’s work, and I think that has made it a little easier for me to embrace them in my own writing, though there are definitely times where I feel sheepish or embarrassed about being so…present. But for me, losing Bret was so raw—so transformative, so terrifying, so inexplicable, so overwhelming—that I just became disinterested in anything that felt too careful or mediated or false. Because, you know, life is completely insane! I think a lot about a line from Paul Simon’s “Graceland,” a perfect song about yearning and ache and hope, where he sings, “Losing love is like a window to your heart / Everybody sees you’re blown apart.” There’s a funny kind of freedom in being blown apart. Perfection is impossible, and also far less appealing. Once you’ve lived through catastrophe, it’s easier to be, like, “Oh, who cares!” about almost everything else, including potentially embarrassing yourself.

“Losing Bret was so raw— so transformative, so terrifying, so inexplicable, so overwhelming —that I just became disinterested in anything that felt too careful or mediated or false.”

What have the responses been to your posts on grief and losing your husband?

Just extraordinary. I am assuming most people follow me because they have read my music criticism in the New Yorker, not because they know what happened to my family, but it’s been beautiful to see how many really hang in there for the other stuff, too. Grief is a universal experience, but we’re all so ill-equipped to navigate it, and especially to navigate it alone. Yet there are very few places where we can navigate it together.

I’m a magazine writer; I’m not an influencer or a therapist. I never imagined that I would be involved in any sort of public dialogue about grief. But it really helps to hold our darkest and most lonesome feelings with other people, especially in ways that maybe aren’t overly prescriptive or results-oriented. Sometimes it’s useful just to pipe up and say: “This sucks. This hurts and feels bad. If you are also in the weeds, I’m here and I get it.” I am so stupidly grateful to have connected with so many grieving people via social media, a medium we all recognize as generally toxic and fucked. I joke around that there should be a grief support program similar in structure to AA, where you get a sponsor, you work the steps, you take it one day at a time. When you need to, you go to a meeting and sit in a folding chair and drink stale coffee and eat supermarket cookies, and tell your story to people who have also gone through it. Maybe when you make it a year out—a milestone for every grieving person I know—someone hands you a little chip that you can hold in your hand. In the US, the average bereavement leave is three to five days, which is so cruel, it’s almost hilarious. I mean, that’s not even gonna get you to the funeral. Outside of a religious context, there are just not enough systems or rituals in place to help people who are unmoored and hurting.

“My daughter was only 13 months old when Bret died. Taking care of a baby alone through that early period of grief was by far the hardest thing I have ever done. It was impossible, actually. Yet it happened…I am so proud of both of us for making it through that first year.”

As a parent of a young kid myself, I have also greatly appreciated your willingness to get real about how difficult some moments can be. More so than any mom influencer, Big Little Feelings caption, etc. How has your experience with motherhood played into your writing?

For one, I am perpetually and grievously sleep-deprived, which I fear gives everything I write a kind of psychedelic quiver. Like grief, I think parenthood is an experience that makes you more open, more human, more complicated, more exposed. Those are all really good things for art. But of course, both grief and parenthood can be totally obliterating. It can make you feel like a stupid cartoon, sobbing while cramming yet another load of laundry into the machine or changing another diaper in the middle of the night.

In my experience, both motherhood and grief are also invisible burdens, a weight you carry that no one else sees. Both are exhausting. I still struggle with effectively explaining the experience of having a full-time job and also solo parenting a toddler—most people simply can’t wrap their heads around the math. I do not have any organically occurring free time. All of my free time is bought and sacrificed for. But my daughter has nonetheless made me a better writer. (It goes without saying that she has made me a better person.) It’s a cliché and wildly corny, but kids teach you so much about joy, wonder, curiosity, hope, and the comfort of sacrifice. (Having a child is certainly not the only way to learn those things—there are many other ways.) And the act of caregiving is profound and life-changing work, even if the culture does not necessarily frame it that way.

My daughter was only 13 months old when Bret died. Taking care of a baby alone through that early period of grief was by far the hardest thing I have ever done. It was impossible, actually. Yet it happened. I felt empty, devastated, ruined, lost, absent, brittle, utterly destroyed. But of course, she still needed me, and in a very primal and immediate way. I am so proud of both of us for making it through that first year.

Talking about grief and trauma tends to see a lot of clichés—and it’s one of the main reasons I’ve avoided writing about my own traumas. Have there been any models for you?

I am a huge fan of Anderson Cooper’s podcast, All There Is, and especially his conversation with Stephen Colbert (full disclosure, I was a guest on the show’s second season). Nick Cave is just remarkable on grief; his book Faith, Hope, and Carnage and also his newsletter, The Red Hand Files, are about as good as it gets when it comes to making sense of pain. My dear friend Matthew Schnipper has a book coming out soon about the loss of his son, Renzo; he wrote a piece about grief and music for the New Yorker that’s just unbelievably good. Rob Sheffield’s Love Is A Mix Tape and Jayson Greene’s Once More We Saw Stars are books by friends that I loved long before I suddenly understood them in a different way. It’s less explicitly about grief, and it’s not writing, but I am thoroughly and consistently moved by Tabitha Soren’s photography, which conveys a great deal about loss and ephemerality, violence, and survival.

Back in September, amid simmering tensions between South Korean President Yoon Suk Yeol and the country’s parliament, opposition leader Lee Jae-myung issued a warning: Yoon and his allies were preparing to declare martial law.

The claim was roundly dismissed as alarmist, the irresponsible stuff of conspiracy theories—even by some of Lee’s supporters. But the warning was prescient. On Tuesday, Yoon shocked the world by carrying out exactly what had been warned, declaring that martial law was necessary to save South Korea from “anti-state forces.”

The action instantly prompted scenes of chaos to unfold, with stunned lawmakers, and thousands of ordinary citizens, mobilizing to protest the declaration. Hours later, a unanimous parliamentary vote forced Yoon to back down. Still, his fate remains uncertain. Many are increasingly concerned that Yoon could reinstate martial law once more. Meanwhile, immense crowds continue to gather in Seoul, demanding Yoon’s removal.

As a Korean American watching some 7,000 miles away, the scenes have engendered a rare mix of relatability and pride. I say rare because my own relationship with the country of my parents is a bit strange. My dad discouraged me from learning Korean, having immigrated at 19 and endured ugly bits of racism at school and later in his sheet metal career; my mom, who very much still considers herself Korean first, taught me at a young age that the US is an international bully. Dad’s influence ultimately won. Though I’ve visited Seoul many times, I don’t speak the language and couldn’t care less about the pop culture everyone else in the world seems to increasingly enjoy.

It’s against this personal backdrop that I quickly noticed an unexpected current undergirding the demonstrations against Yoon: one of joy, even revelry, with protesters spanning generations: ajummas, ajushees, halumnis, haksengs. Then there were videos of soldiers apologizing to protesters. The nation’s largest labor union declared an indefinite strike, events I simply can’t envision here. It’s a palpable adrenaline that seems foreign to the current stupor I feel about things closer to home. And a surprising envy came over me. What was it about South Korea that could produce such a robust protest culture?

I reached out to Namhee Lee, a UCLA professor of modern Korean history, to learn more.

What was your initial reaction to the martial law announcement? Were you in contact with anyone on the ground during those six hours?

My sister happens to live in Korea still, so I was able to talk to her very shortly [after it began] because she was also in complete shock and disbelief. My first reaction was complete shock. There had been some rumblings on the part of the Democratic Party [the opposition party in South Korea] that martial law might be on the way. But the suggestion was completely shut down by conservative forces, including the presidential office. I dismissed it as well, thinking that that could not possibly be the case.

But one mistake I think some are making now is dismissing Yoon’s actions as simply “crazy,” the product of a nutcase, and therefore it can’t happen again. But this clearly did not come out of the blue; people had warned us of this very situation three months ago. This is not something that was done out of a volatile character. In fact, there’s something much more systematic and more dangerous going on—and people need to remain vigilant of the real possibility of another coup attempt.

“These soldiers know what could happen in history and that they could be later condemned as betraying the nation. They’ve learned from history, to be cautious in terms of violence, and actually consider how their actions would be judged in the future.”

That’s interesting because I think the perception in the US is that because the declaration of martial law had been so brief, things in South Korea are fine now, and the protesters won.

I’m hoping that will be the case. But vigilance is key. South Korea is one of the thriving democracies in the world and its citizens have been so active, to the point where people say that South Koreans possess a so-called “protest gene.” Take a look at the soldiers who were deployed to the National Assembly, asking for protesters’ forgiveness. These soldiers had learned what could happen in history and that they could be later condemned as betraying the nation. They’ve learned from history, to be cautious in terms of violence, and actually consider how their actions would be judged in the future.

Of course, in Gwangju, where hundreds were killed in a student-led uprising for democracy, that did not happen. [You can learn more about the deadly episode here.]

Yes, many have alluded to the memory of Gwangju this week.  How do these memories play into the current protests?

Many of the individual citizens who went out to the National Assembly this week reminded themselves that this is what the people of Gwangju people must have confronted. Yes, the events this week largely stayed peaceful. But when the citizens first rushed out, they remembered Gwangju and therefore knew that there was a possibility things could turn violent, that the situation could have easily turned into one of the many massacres in Korean history.

The Korean public knows that the Gwangju protests were ultimately right in the end. And this knowledge and memory play strongly into the actions of citizens today. The Gwangju Uprising went on to spur a persistent democratization movement through the 1980s, which eventually helped change the constitution to make it possible for South Korea to enjoy the kind of thriving democracy it is today. But Korea’s history with effective democratic protests can be traced even further than Gwangju: the April 19 Uprising of the 1960s that helped topple the autocratic regime of President Syngman Rhee, the March 1 movement protesting Japanese colonial rule, etc. Then flashback to more recent times to the candlelight vigils of 2016 and 2017 that helped remove President Park Geun-hye. 

“As a historian, I thank those people for producing these kinds of films. And I thank people like Han Kang for her crucial literature.”

I can’t help but wonder, in the face of our own wannabe authoritarian, if Americans lack historical context. Is it different in South Korea? Do educators prioritize history in a way that seems lacking here?

I don’t want to claim that Koreans are any different from other people. But what’s different in South Korea is precisely the fact that Koreans have been able to experience firsthand that they have the power to topple authoritarian regimes.

But I don’t necessarily think it’d be accurate to say that it’s Korean public education that pushes this. This education is really happening outside in a much more public arena, especially in terms of cultural output. Take a look at Han Kang, the recent Nobel Prize winner. Her works directly concern historical trauma and historical memory. Human Acts is even specifically about the atrocities in Gwangju. There has also been a surge of hugely popular TV dramas dealing with these very topics, including the film 1987: When the Day Comes which centered on the June Democratic Uprising. As a historian, I thank those people for producing these kinds of films. And I thank people like Han Kang for her crucial literature.

But I want to underscore that it would be a mistake to think that it’s some kind of exceptionalism among South Koreans. We have our own problems and cycles of anti-democratic leadership. We are just as politically burned by the right as we are by the left. But it’s the fresh memory of historical trauma—and perhaps more importantly, the victories of uprisings— that contribute to this very high level of political awareness and political consciousness in South Korea.

Another remarkable feature: The indefinite strike announced by Korea’s largest labor union. Can you help us understand the power of organized labor in everyday Korean society and how that’s being leveraged in this moment?

It’s important to understand the history here. The Korean Confederation of Trade Unions (KCTU) was born out of a social movement. We need to go back to 1987, when there was a massive uprising with millions pouring into the streets demanding political reform. They won, the leader at the time stepped down, and a direct presidential election took place. But soon after, workers staged another spectacular uprising, which is now referred to as the Great Worker Struggle, where two-thirds of the country’s biggest industries went on strike. So you have to understand that there has always been this very close alliance between the democratization movement and the labor movement in South Korea. Therefore it’s not surprising to see KCTU taking action in this moment.

Alright, so I’ve been to Korea six times, with three of those visits having taken place as an adult. During each of those visits, even as a child, I have clear memories of political protests being commonplace across Seoul. I specifically remember being taken aback by the number of older Koreans participating in them. A lot of this felt antithetical to the stereotype many Americans hold toward East Asian countries: that they’re placid, quiet, eager to please. And I think many watching the events unfold right now are surprised by that upending of a stereotype.

Placid? I mean, nothing could be further from the truth. Korea has a long history of protest, going back to the colonial period, the March 1 movement, and so forth. And you have to remember that these all happened when social media was not even around. Throughout history, during crucial moments, Koreans have been at the forefront of protests. Just take the fact that South Korea is probably the only country in the world to have specific names for generations based on the protests of their time. Yuk-sahn, Yushin, the 386 generation, etc.

One thing that I’ve noticed about these protests is how festive they appear to be.

Yes but this is a drastic change from the protest culture of the 1980s—thank god you were not there. It was a life and death for many of the people who participated in political protests. Sexual abuse during interrogations, extremely grave situations with riot soldiers, plain-clothes security forces, so much brutality.

But a major shift happened in 2008 during the protests against the conservative president’s decision to allow beef imported by the United States into the country despite serious mad cow disease concerns. That’s when the composition of protesters began to change drastically. It wasn’t just the usual labor unions and social movement organizations coming out. Mothers with baby strollers, hobby groups, and ordinary citizens concerned about their health. That’s the moment when South Korean protesting changed completely. And we saw this once again during the candlelight protests, where a more festive nature took hold with singers and entertainment among the protesters.

Amid the escalating debate over whether to release a highly damaging report into allegations that he had sex with a minor, Matt Gaetz on Thursday announced that he was withdrawing from consideration to become President-elect Donald Trump’s attorney general.

“While the momentum was strong, it is clear that my confirmation was unfairly becoming a distraction to the critical work of the Trump/Vance Transition,” Gaetz wrote on social media. “There is no time to waste on a needlessly protracted Washington scuffle, thus I’ll be withdrawing my name from consideration to serve as Attorney General. Trump’s DOJ must be in place and ready on Day 1.”

The surprise announcement comes one day after the House Ethics Committee failed to agree to release the long-awaited results of the report surrounding Gaetz’s sexual relationships and payments to several women, including at least one minor. Trump shocked even close allies by tapping Gaetz for the role and was reportedly phoning members of Congress as recently as this week to rally support for the disgraced Florida Republican.

Those who have opposed the report’s release, including Republican House Speaker Mike Johnson, have argued that such a move would set a poor precedent since Gaetz, who resigned shortly after Trump announced his intention to appoint him, is technically no longer a sitting member of Congress.

“I remain fully committed to see that Donald J. Trump is the most successful President in history,” Gaetz continued. “I will forever be honored that President Trump nominated me to lead the Department of Justice and I’m certain he will Save America.”

Amid the escalating debate over whether to release a highly damaging report into allegations that he had sex with a minor, Matt Gaetz on Thursday announced that he was withdrawing from consideration to become President-elect Donald Trump’s attorney general.

“While the momentum was strong, it is clear that my confirmation was unfairly becoming a distraction to the critical work of the Trump/Vance Transition,” Gaetz wrote on social media. “There is no time to waste on a needlessly protracted Washington scuffle, thus I’ll be withdrawing my name from consideration to serve as Attorney General. Trump’s DOJ must be in place and ready on Day 1.”

The surprise announcement comes one day after the House Ethics Committee failed to agree to release the long-awaited results of the report surrounding Gaetz’s sexual relationships and payments to several women, including at least one minor. Trump shocked even close allies by tapping Gaetz for the role and was reportedly phoning members of Congress as recently as this week to rally support for the disgraced Florida Republican.

Those who have opposed the report’s release, including Republican House Speaker Mike Johnson, have argued that such a move would set a poor precedent since Gaetz, who resigned shortly after Trump announced his intention to appoint him, is technically no longer a sitting member of Congress.

“I remain fully committed to see that Donald J. Trump is the most successful President in history,” Gaetz continued. “I will forever be honored that President Trump nominated me to lead the Department of Justice and I’m certain he will Save America.”

Rep. Matt Gaetz, one of Donald Trump’s most outspoken supporters in Congress, is the president-elect’s pick for attorney general, a stunning choice that builds upon Trump’s long-held views of the Justice Department as an extension of his White House.

As my colleague Stephanie Mencimer wrote in a 2019 profile, the Florida Republican has made something of a political career trolling everyone from food stamp recipients to Michael Cohen. Gaetz’s controversial career, which he largely secured thanks to family connections, gave way to becoming a staunch Trump loyalist and all-around suck-up. “Matt Gaetz is living proof that Veep was less parody and more prophecy,” as Steve Schmidt said.

But as he now sits on the cusp of becoming the next attorney general under a White House threatening to prosecute its enemies—from Nancy Pelosi to the media—it’s also worth noting that Gaetz is a terrible lawyer. From Stephanie:

Meanwhile, after graduating from William & Mary Law School in 2007, Matt Gaetz went to work for a politically connected firm in Fort Walton Beach, near Niceville. He toiled away on pedestrian legal matters befitting a junior associate in a region whose biggest city, Pensacola, is home to barely 50,000 people. He filed a debt collection suit against an elderly woman who couldn’t pay the home care firm owned by Gaetz’s dad. Matt also represented a homeowners’ association fighting the county over the placement of a beach volleyball net. And he sued the “red fish chix,” two professional fisherwomen accused of absconding with a $50,000 boat belonging to a local restaurant that had hired them to promote it.

Less than a year into his job, he also became one of the firm’s clients. One night in October 2008, Gaetz was driving his dad’s BMW home from a nightclub on Okaloosa Island when a sheriff’s deputy pulled him over for speeding. (Gaetz’s driving record is the subject of many jokes in his district. In 2014, he rear-ended one of his constituents while talking on his cellphone.)

Gaetz’s nomination comes as the latest in a shocking series of poorly qualified picks for the next administration that includes Tulsi Gabbard for director of national intelligence, a Fox News host (Defense), and Kristi Noem (Homeland Security).

Elon Musk’s election bets paid off the instant Donald Trump was reelected. But, even as the richest man in the world sits on the edge of enormous political power, Musk can’t seem to escape the essential fabric of his being: a deeply unlikable personality.

According to multiple reports, Musk is everywhere you turn at Mar-a-Lago, from the resort’s gift shop to nearly every meeting and meal with president-elect Trump. That constant presence has also extended to social media, where Musk calls himself the “First Buddy” and appears in photos with Trump’s grandchildren. All this, paired with the tech billionaire’s apparent inability to keep an opinion private, has proven so overbearing, that NBC News reports Trump insiders are fed up with Musk’s relentless efforts to force what they see as a personal agenda.

Such descriptions aren’t exactly surprising to anyone who has been forced to pay attention to Musk’s antics over the years; the tech billionaire is as known for his wealth as he is for his rabid, trolling behavior.

But while Trump appears intent on rewarding Musk for his enthusiastic backing in the 2024 election, such early reports of irritation within Trump’s circle—already infamous for its infighting and toxicity—don’t bode well for Musk’s standing. One quote from NBC appears to at least hint at such shaky ground:

“He’s behaving as if he’s a co-president and making sure everyone knows it,” one source said, adding that Musk is “sure taking lots of credit for the president’s victory. Bragging about America PAC and X to anyone who will listen.

“He’s trying to make President Trump feel indebted to him. And the president is indebted to no one.”

Another source told Politico that “Elon is getting a little big for his britches.”

Time will tell if Trump gets tired of a billionaire try-hard hanging on too long, especially if that billionaire continues injecting himself into every corner of the next administration. But the president-elect is a notoriously mercurial man—and I struggle to think of anyone more profoundly irritating—and unfunny—than Elon Musk.

Rep. Matt Gaetz, one of Donald Trump’s most outspoken supporters in Congress, is the president-elect’s pick for attorney general, a stunning choice that builds upon Trump’s long-held views of the Justice Department as an extension of his White House.

As my colleague Stephanie Mencimer wrote in a 2019 profile, the Florida Republican has made something of a political career trolling everyone from food stamp recipients to Michael Cohen. Gaetz’s controversial career, which he largely secured thanks to family connections, gave way to becoming a staunch Trump loyalist and all-around suck-up. “Matt Gaetz is living proof that Veep was less parody and more prophecy,” as Steve Schmidt said.

But as he now sits on the cusp of becoming the next attorney general under a White House threatening to prosecute its enemies—from Nancy Pelosi to the media—it’s also worth noting that Gaetz is a terrible lawyer. From Stephanie:

Meanwhile, after graduating from William & Mary Law School in 2007, Matt Gaetz went to work for a politically connected firm in Fort Walton Beach, near Niceville. He toiled away on pedestrian legal matters befitting a junior associate in a region whose biggest city, Pensacola, is home to barely 50,000 people. He filed a debt collection suit against an elderly woman who couldn’t pay the home care firm owned by Gaetz’s dad. Matt also represented a homeowners’ association fighting the county over the placement of a beach volleyball net. And he sued the “red fish chix,” two professional fisherwomen accused of absconding with a $50,000 boat belonging to a local restaurant that had hired them to promote it.

Less than a year into his job, he also became one of the firm’s clients. One night in October 2008, Gaetz was driving his dad’s BMW home from a nightclub on Okaloosa Island when a sheriff’s deputy pulled him over for speeding. (Gaetz’s driving record is the subject of many jokes in his district. In 2014, he rear-ended one of his constituents while talking on his cellphone.)

Gaetz’s nomination comes as the latest in a shocking series of poorly qualified picks for the next administration that includes Tulsi Gabbard for director of national intelligence, a Fox News host (Defense), and Kristi Noem (Homeland Security).

Elon Musk’s election bets paid off the instant Donald Trump was reelected. But, even as the richest man in the world sits on the edge of enormous political power, Musk can’t seem to escape the essential fabric of his being: a deeply unlikable personality.

According to multiple reports, Musk is everywhere you turn at Mar-a-Lago, from the resort’s gift shop to nearly every meeting and meal with president-elect Trump. That constant presence has also extended to social media, where Musk calls himself the “First Buddy” and appears in photos with Trump’s grandchildren. All this, paired with the tech billionaire’s apparent inability to keep an opinion private, has proven so overbearing, that NBC News reports Trump insiders are fed up with Musk’s relentless efforts to force what they see as a personal agenda.

Such descriptions aren’t exactly surprising to anyone who has been forced to pay attention to Musk’s antics over the years; the tech billionaire is as known for his wealth as he is for his rabid, trolling behavior.

But while Trump appears intent on rewarding Musk for his enthusiastic backing in the 2024 election, such early reports of irritation within Trump’s circle—already infamous for its infighting and toxicity—don’t bode well for Musk’s standing. One quote from NBC appears to at least hint at such shaky ground:

“He’s behaving as if he’s a co-president and making sure everyone knows it,” one source said, adding that Musk is “sure taking lots of credit for the president’s victory. Bragging about America PAC and X to anyone who will listen.

“He’s trying to make President Trump feel indebted to him. And the president is indebted to no one.”

Another source told Politico that “Elon is getting a little big for his britches.”

Time will tell if Trump gets tired of a billionaire try-hard hanging on too long, especially if that billionaire continues injecting himself into every corner of the next administration. But the president-elect is a notoriously mercurial man—and I struggle to think of anyone more profoundly irritating—and unfunny—than Elon Musk.

Voters in swing states who received notice of a $1 million check from Elon Musk should know two things: Simple luck is not how this happened—and you are now on the hook to be an official spokesperson for Musk’s America super PAC.

That’s according to a lawyer for the tech billionaire, who acknowledged in court on Monday amid a lawsuit alleging that the contest is an illegal lottery, that recipients are not randomly selected. The claim comes despite Musk’s initial description of the contest when it was first announced last month.

“I have a surprise for you,” Musk had said at a pro-Trump event in Harrisburg, Pennsylvania. “Which is that we are going to be awarding 1 million dollars, randomly, to people who have signed the petition, every day from now until the election.”

The announcement quickly drew the attention of Justice Department officials who warned that the scheme may violate federal law prohibiting paying people to register to vote. After a brief pause, Musk’s super PAC resumed the controversial payouts, which prompted the current lawsuit from Philadelphia District Attorney Larry Krasner seeking to block the contest before Election Day.

“There is no prize to be won,” Chris Gober, an attorney for Musk, said at Monday’s hearing. “Instead recipients must fulfill contractual obligations to serve as a spokesperson for the PAC.”

That’s probably news for the 14 recipients, nearly all of whom NBC News reports are either registered Republicans or Republican-leaning.

While a judge on Monday rejected Musk’s bid to move the lawsuit to federal court, the giveaways are unlikely to be stopped before Tuesday. But what’s the ROI on a $1 million a day to voters already primed to vote Trump? Perhaps evidence to back your anti-democratic belief that American voters can be bought.

In the final stretch of an election season teeming with ugly moments, from the racist and vulgar to the sexist and crude, Donald Trump on Thursday managed to do what he always does: outdo himself.

“Let’s put her with a rifle standing there with nine barrels shooting at her,” Trump said at an event with Tucker Carlson. “Okay, let’s see how she feels about it. You know when the guns are trained on her face.”

The subject of this violent comment was Liz Cheney, perhaps the most high-profile Republican to support Trump’s Democratic opponent, Kamala Harris, and Trump made this statement amid endless evidence of the dangers he poses should he return to the White House. In this instance, Trump was slamming Cheney for being a “radical war-hawk” and suggesting she should be subjected to a taste of combat. But this use of such visceral imagery comes as he continues to threaten to prosecute his perceived enemies. This summer he promoted a social media post calling for Cheney to be placed on trial for treason before a military tribunal.

The Harris campaign and other Trump critics mischaracterized Trump’s comment as a call to put Cheney before a firing squad.

“This is how dictators destroy free nations,” Cheney responded on X. “They threaten those who speak against them with death. We cannot entrust our country and our freedom to a petty, vindictive, cruel, unstable man who wants to be a tyrant.”

Meanwhile, mainstream news outlets are still chewing over whether President Joe Biden may or may not have called Trump’s supporters “garbage” in response to a comedian at a recent Trump rally describing Puerto Rico as a “floating island of garbage.” This morning, there was more quibbling over a report that the White House may have altered a transcript of Biden’s “garbage” dig. Given that Trump has often dehumanized and demonized his political foes and their supporters, saying they’re “scum,” the attention paid to Biden’s remark—which he clarified after the fact—is misplaced.

Trump’s menacing language—a constant for almost a decade—rarely draws the notice that Garbage-gate has received. To call this imbalance typical both-sidesism fails to adequately convey the failures of the media in 2024.

We’re all a bit desensitized. But the use of such violent rhetoric by hideous men within reach of the White House should still shock us. Anything less, well, is garbage.

What would you do if the world’s wealthiest man came knocking on your door? Ask for a buck? Let ’em in? Run from this clear sweepstakes door scam?

It’s a scenario that could very well happen in Pennsylvania, a state that has reportedly become an obsession for Elon Musk. So much so that the New York Times reports that the Tesla CEO, who is nearly “manic” about sending Donald Trump back to the White House, recently proposed going door-to-door in the Keystone State in order to gin up support for the former president. Musk is so deeply involved in Trump’s reelection campaign that the Times lists several alarming efforts the billionaire has made to assist the former president’s ambitions in recent months. One includes reportedly coordinating with the campaign to block damaging information from appearing on X.

That’s damning stuff. Still, it’s the potential of Musk frantically running around in Pennsylvania, jumping up and down for Trump at one’s doorstep, that feels especially unusual. It would mark an extraordinarily personal appeal but also, perhaps, a terrifying one, a political stunt lab-made to make it abundantly clear that this is the worst timeline.

All of this comes as Pennsylvania is widely considered to be the most critical battleground state of the 2024 election. This week alone, Barack Obama made it the first stop in his campaign tour for Kamala Harris, while Trump returned for two events, including one in Scranton, Pennsylvania. Meanwhile, Musk’s preoccupation with the state continues apace, with Gov. Josh Shapiro confirming that the Tesla CEO personally called him last weekend to talk jobs in western Pennsylvania. “We obviously didn’t talk about politics,” Shapiro said.

 Correction, October 14: An earlier version misstated Pennsylvania’s nickname.

What would you do if the world’s wealthiest man came knocking on your door? Ask for a buck? Let ’em in? Run from this clear sweepstakes door scam?

It’s a scenario that could very well happen in Pennsylvania, a state that has reportedly become an obsession for Elon Musk. So much so that the New York Times reports that the Tesla CEO, who is nearly “manic” about sending Donald Trump back to the White House, recently proposed going door-to-door in the Buckeye State in order to gin up support for the former president. Musk is so deeply involved in Trump’s reelection campaign that the Times lists several alarming efforts the billionaire has made to assist the former president’s ambitions in recent months. One includes reportedly coordinating with the campaign to block damaging information from appearing on X.

That’s damning stuff. Still, it’s the potential of Musk frantically running around in Pennsylvania, jumping up and down for Trump at one’s doorstep, that feels especially unusual. It would mark an extraordinarily personal appeal but also, perhaps, a terrifying one, a political stunt lab-made to make it abundantly clear that this is the worst timeline.

All of this comes as Pennsylvania is widely considered to be the most critical battleground state of the 2024 election. This week alone, Barack Obama made it the first stop in his campaign tour for Kamala Harris, while Trump returned for two events, including one in Scranton, Pennsylvania. Meanwhile, Musk’s preoccupation with the state continues apace, with Gov. Josh Shapiro confirming that the Tesla CEO personally called him last weekend to talk jobs in western Pennsylvania. “We obviously didn’t talk about politics,” Shapiro said.

A spiral of lies and deliberate efforts to mislead parliament may have undone Boris Johnson’s premiership. But don’t expect the former Conservative prime minister of the United Kingdom, who is out promoting a forthcoming memoir, to have abandoned his long-running mendacity.

In a Wednesday interview, Johnson said that he did not believe that Donald Trump ever intended to “overthrow the Constitution” by sowing deep mistrust in the 2020 election results and inciting his supporters on January 6.

“I personally don’t think he intended to overthrow the Constitution and what actually happened was the peaceful transfer of democratic power from one administration to another,” Johnson told Times Radio.

He also claimed that Trump’s refusal to accept the election results shouldn’t preclude another chance at the White House.

The remarks stand in stark contrast to the unequivocal condemnation Johnson expressed as prime minister in the immediate aftermath of January 6, an event Johnson decried as “disgraceful.”

“I believe what President Trump has been saying about that has been completely wrong and I unreservedly condemn encouraging people to behave in the disgraceful way that they did in the Capitol,” he said at the time, joining in nearly universal shock and condemnation of Trump from international leaders.

Of course, sudden bouts of amnesia regarding former president Trump are nothing new for conservative politicians. Nearly everyone in the Republican Party has similarly abandoned the criticisms they made of Trump on January 6 or in its wake as his sway on the party held strong. Similarly, there is a way in which Johnson’s latest defense could be a sign elite opinion in the UK is betting on Trump returning to power.

Or perhaps it’s much simpler than that. The famously cash-poor Johnson—who, besides having a lavish Oxfordshire manor to renovate, can’t seem to count how many children he has to feed—wants you to buy his book. And he’ll do whatever it takes to get the attention. “Them’s the breaks,” I guess.