THE INTERVIEW: ‘All I Have Is The Power To Talk And Be Heard’

Tucker Carlson - Wikipedia

Tucker Carlson on pitying Donald Trump, never listening to podcasts, and planning a new political party—while selling you nicotine pouches.

BY AMOS BARSHAD

On a recent afternoon, I drove down a wooded Maine road, past serene ponds with no people in sight, until I reached a big white barn. I parked, in patchy grass, near a Ford F-350 with a crane bolted onto the back, an American flag, and an idling black SUV. A guy in the driver’s seat of the SUV, whose tattoos peeked out beneath the sleeves of a white dress shirt, sent me thirty feet down the road to another guy, in a large white SUV, who politely told me to wait. Tucker Carlson was still recording.

I wouldn’t have been surprised to see anyone—a United States senator? A prison guard claiming to have evidence that Jeffrey Epstein was murdered? Donald Trump?—walk out of that barn. Carlson, who is fifty-seven, occupies a singular space in American media: after decades in corporate television, most famously at Fox News, he now hosts The Tucker Carlson Show, a video podcast, where he can and does follow his every whim, taking his hordes of fans along with him. A recent episode, “The Secret History of Biblical Giants,” has 1.5 million views on YouTube.

Eventually, Carlson—boyish, tanned, wearing an outdoorsman vest and New Balances—welcomed me into the barn. As I entered, I passed that day’s interviewee: Nick Maynard, an English surgeon who has worked extensively treating Gazan victims of Israeli air strikes.

On his show, Carlson advocates long-held hard-line conservative views, which include total opposition to immigration, abortion, and trans rights. He also takes a strong stand against war: Carlson has vociferously denounced the American and Israeli attacks on Iran—during which over thirteen thousand targets have been bombed and more than three thousand people killed—as well as Israel’s post–October 7 assault on Gaza. Carlson has personally lobbied Trump, whom he’s known at least since both were NBC television personalities, not to attack Iran. He’s an imperfect vessel for the anti-war argument, but his reach and influence may make him America’s most prominent crusader for the cause.

Because of his reputation among American conservatives, Carlson can book guests such as Ted Cruz, the Republican senator from Texas, and grill them on their warmongering. In a 2025 interview that went viral, Carlson asked Cruz to tell him the population of Iran; Cruz couldn’t do it. “You’re a senator who’s calling for the overthrow of the government,” Carlson shouted in response, “and you don’t know anything about the country!” It was a rare thing: a complete pantsing of a powerful public figure. “I am always struck by the ignorance of policymakers,” Carlson told me. “I wanted him to feel shame. And he felt no shame.”

Carlson’s relevance is rooted in the fact that he can both book Cruz and embarrass him. It’s also connected to his symbiosis with a subset of Republicans. According to a recent New York Times/Siena poll of self-identified Republicans and Trump voters, nearly 60 percent of those with a “very favorable” view of Carlson say “they want the next Republican presidential nominee to take the party in a new direction.”

What may be most significant about Carlson now is that his campaign against the Iran war and Israel’s influence on the American political system has placed him in strange cultural territory: suddenly, he has fans on the left. Cenk Uygur, the creator of the progressive news show The Young Turks, has cheered Carlson for criticizing Trump’s attacks on Muslims. When Olivia Reingold, a writer for the Free Press, compiled a dossier against Rama Duwaji, the First Lady of New York City, one of Reingold’s ostensibly damning reveals was that Duwaji had liked a Carlson post criticizing AIPAC.

Peter Beinart—the editor-at-large at Jewish Currents and a prominent Israel critic—has pushed back on the left’s support for Carlson, arguing in a recent Substack video that any progressive who is going on Carlson’s show “should not leave your principles at the door. If you’re against bigotry” and “the argument that somehow white Christians are superior to Black and brown immigrants,” then don’t “ignore all of that because you think you’re working with him to try to turn US policy against Israel.” Carlson recently spoke to Lulu Garcia-Navarro, a journalist for the New York Times, who pressed him about his interview with Nick Fuentes, the white-nationalist influencer.

Carlson often starts his podcast episodes with lengthy, showy monologues. He doesn’t write them down, he told me, instead sketching them out in his head during daily sauna sessions. The monologues encapsulate both his appeal and the fear he strikes in people. Whatever the topic—biblical giants, Christian nationalism, Gaza—he is a preternaturally compelling speaker. At one point in our conversation, he fell into a reverie describing all the cigarettes he smoked in Dubai while sitting down with an aide to Benjamin Netanyahu, Israel’s prime minister. “I love smoking so much,” Carlson said. These days, though, he mostly gets his fix via his own nicotine-pouch brand, ALP, which stands for American Lip Pillow.

Carlson’s barn, in the town of Woodstock—his family has owned the barn for years, and their summer home is nearby—feels like a GOP-themed chain restaurant. Nearly every spare inch is covered with taxidermy or Republican memorabilia. Carlson took a seat under a big stuffed bear head and torso, near a Nixon/Agnew sign and a Bush ’88 ashtray. He spit out an ALP, popped in a new one—with twelve milligrams of nicotine, he made sure to point out, making it one of the most potent pouches on the market—and we began talking. Our conversation has been edited for length and clarity.

AB: Fox fired you in 2023. Did you anticipate any of what would come next?

TC: No! I don’t anticipate where I’m going to be after dinner tonight. I’m not a planner. I never have been. A lot of our producers got fired with me. We immediately pivoted from television to the internet. It was actually a lot easier than I thought. We had the Fox studio in the other part of the barn: they came and took all their cameras and the lighting rig and the soundproofing.

I certainly did not anticipate talking about Israel. I had been on TV for thirty years. I don’t think I had ever really talked about Israel. From my perspective, I got pushed into it.

How so?

I felt I had no choice. Early in 2025, Netanyahu showed up at the White House right after Trump’s inauguration, and I thought, “This is a little early to be siphoning off the energy from this campaign and this election for the benefit of another country.” And I resented it. I very quickly began to understand the point of these visits was a regime-change effort in Iran. And that’s something that I talked to Trump about many times over ten years. Fifty times! More! In public, but mostly in private.

The breaking point and the huge change in my life came in June of 2025, with the Twelve-Day War—which was not about Iran’s nuclear program. It was the first salvo in a regime-change effort led by Israel. And that’s just antithetical to everything Trump ran on.

I’ve been to Israel several times, both for work and as a visitor. I love Jerusalem—amazing city—but I’m not interested in Israel. I don’t think it’s significant as a country from an American perspective. It’s not in our hemisphere. It’s got no resources. So I just don’t care. But once you start taking over my political system and destroying my country, then I have a right to care. So now I do care.

When you’re trying to dissuade Trump from going to war, what do you see as your role? Are you speaking as a concerned American or as a journalist?

What category do I occupy? I haven’t the faintest idea. I’m not interested at all in defining it. I’m not a politician, that’s for sure. I’m not a rival to Trump for power. I have no power. I’m someone who knows Trump, and I know him well, and I’ve known him for a long time. I can call him. He often calls me.

Do you still speak to Trump?

I haven’t spoken to him since the regime-change war began. I’m not interested in talking to him. I feel sorry for him. He’s not a man in charge of his own life at this point. I feel sorry for anybody who’s enslaved, including him. I mean, I visited him three times at the White House in the month before the Twelve-Day War, and I told him the same thing all three times: “You’re not gonna see the rise of a democratic, pro-Western government in Tehran. The best you’re gonna see there is just this suppurating wound.” And he said, “I know.”

What is it really about, in Trump’s mind? Why did he destroy himself? His administration? His legacy? The Republican Party and America? I don’t know, but maybe someone at CJR should get on this and find out.

Okay, so, three years after leaving Fox, you’re suddenly one of the most prominent anti-war voices in America—

It’s not hard, because no one else is against it! Where is everybody?

Are you surprised to find yourself in this position?

Well, no. I’ve been against war since December of 2003, when I was in Iraq and I was highly distressed by it. So I’ve had the same views for twenty-three years now, more or less. But I just stayed away from Israel because—and I would say this to people who worked for me at Fox—it’s not worth it. It’s too personal. The unwritten rule is that criticism of Israel is criticism of all Jews, and because I am not against Jews, it’s not worth it.

I’ve been to Israel a lot, so I’m fully aware of the apartheid situation in Israel. I’ve been offended by it going back twenty years. But I would always say to myself, “Okay, I’ve been in a lot of places with injustice.” I’ve seen Nigerians treat Liberians like animals, firsthand, in West Africa, and I was offended by it. But I didn’t organize my life around defending oppressed Liberians.

Occasionally, something would happen and my staff at Fox would bring me a story about Israel. I’d be like, “Nope, I don’t want to do it.” Now, that was probably cowardice on my part, but also the truth was I had mixed feelings about it. I’m not defending this. I’m just telling you the way I thought. I would sublimate it. “Is it really worth it? I don’t want to think about it, and I’ve got all these children, and I want America to be a decent place.” But the Iran war, that was too far.

There’s been speculation that hawks like Marc Thiessen, the Washington Post columnist, have played a part in convincing Trump to continue the Iran war. Do we, meaning the public, have a good understanding of how people in the media influence Trump?

I don’t know if people have a good understanding of it. I don’t know if I always have a good understanding of it. But I don’t believe that Trump is substantially influenced by Marc Thiessen. I doubt Marc Thiessen influences his wife, assuming he has one. I think that Marc Thiessen and others like that are just a sideshow designed to divert your attention away from the people who are influencing the president. And those would include his donors. Those would include John Paulson and Miriam Adelson and Rupert Murdoch, who’s had a huge effect on Trump. Rupert Murdoch would call Trump three or four times a day to encourage him to attack Iran. And I know that because I’ve talked to Trump about it many times.

You and Pete Hegseth, the secretary of war, were both on Fox. Do you have any thoughts about his fitness for the job?

I feel sad about the whole thing. I think it’s disgusting to brag about killing people. It’s totally unchristian and immoral. We should treat death with reverence, period. You can certainly make the case that some people should be killed, but I don’t think anyone should ever celebrate the death of another human being. And by the way, you’re gonna be punished for that.

What do you make of Trump’s lurching attempts to end the war in Iran with the memorandum of understanding?

It’s a humiliating defeat for the United States, but it’s still an improvement over what would happen if we kept going, so I’m grateful for it. Israel is the victim in this. Israel got so far over its skis. Imagine it from Israel’s perspective: you think you’re gonna be the regional hegemon, and then, three months later, Iran becomes a global power. It’s a freaking nightmare!

But there’s no meaningful diplomatic effort; Israel doesn’t even have the capacity for diplomacy. “We’re just gonna explode your pagers.” You can talk yourself into thinking you’re far more powerful than you are, and when you do that, you get hurt. I learned that at twenty-five in a bar fight. And I never punched anyone again, because last time I did, I got the snot knocked out of me, and I had to go on TV with a black eye. I was married. With kids. I was actually thirty-two, now that I’m thinking about it. And my wife was not impressed at all, and my kids were confused. Everything about it was bad. But I realized I’m better at talking my way out of problems than fighting my way out of problems.

I don’t think I’m making complicated points, and I don’t think I’m saying anything radical. Like in that interview with the New York Times. Midway through it she gets kind of emotional and treats me like I’m a dangerous figure. I don’t see myself that way at all. I see myself as thoroughly moderate, and more so as I get older, and I don’t think I have any weird sacred cows that I’m not admitting in public.

The Times reporter, Garcia-Navarro, asked repeatedly about your interview with Nick Fuentes, which seemed to surprise you.

I’m happy to answer questions about Nick Fuentes, but if you’re asking me your eleventh question on Nick Fuentes, I’m gonna have to call it out for what it is, which is a diversion tactic.

I feel like the thing that people are really mad about is the fact that they can’t get jobs that are well-paying enough to build an independent life. Young people are threatened by the promise of AI, which is taking away their futures. And she wants to talk about Nick Fuentes? It is so perfectly representative of the way a certain class of people in America thinks, which is small and narrow. We’re supposed to be running the world! Not with people like you, man.

You did express regret in that Times interview about interviewing Fuentes, at least on the basis that it created too much blowback for you. If you are going to continue to be a prominent anti-war voice and Israel critic, are you thinking about calibrating your approach in any way?

No. I’m not an anti-Semite; if I was an anti-Semite, I would just say so: “I’m against the Jews, here’s why.” I don’t have an employer. I don’t have investors. I don’t even have any creditors, so I can say whatever I think is true, and I plan to.

I find it so interesting that people are unwilling to accept my word. I always say, “Well, why wouldn’t I just say it? What am I going to get? Canceled? I’ve already been fired.” I had the highest-rated show in the history of Fox, and they fired me anyway. So it’s like, what are you going to take from me now?

Maggie Haberman and Jonathan Swan recently reported that JD Vance pitched having you interview Ghislaine Maxwell in prison as part of the Trump administration’s pushback to negative coverage around the Epstein files. Were you involved in this idea?

I was one of the very first, maybe the first person to attack the administration in public last summer for hiding the Epstein materials. Not only was I not involved in a cover-up, I was publicly attacking them. I’ll be happy to interview Ghislaine Maxwell or anybody else. That’s my job. But no, I was not involved in a plot to cover it up.

In an interview recently, Sebastian Gorka, the White House counterterrorism “czar,” name-checked you after being asked about right-wing terror threats.

Sebastian Gorka—he’s not even American. My family’s been here for like four hundred years. And I’m the terror threat because I would like democracy and free speech. I texted him immediately and said, “Let’s have a conversation.” He never responded. He used to invite me over for dinner to his house, and I got such a creepy vibe. I just knew, I’m gonna get over there and he’s going to have me put on a costume.

Sorry, a costume? What kind of a costume?

I don’t know. I’m just guessing. If there’s anybody that has a costume room, it’s Gorka.

Speaking of free speech crackdowns—one of the most famous recent examples when it comes to Israel/Palestine is Mahmoud Khalil, the Columbia student-protest leader detained by ICE.

Even then, I didn’t say anything. So determined was I to stay out of this that I made the—in retrospect, probably foolish and maybe even cowardly—decision to not say anything when they started revoking people’s visas for their political views.

Now, I’m for less immigration. In fact, I’m for ending all immigration today. I don’t know how you can justify immigration when half of all white-collar jobs are going away because of AI. What are people going to do for a living? There’s no economic justification for any immigration in the United States because we can’t even figure out what we’re going to do with all these unemployed people. So it’s crazy. Social-services spending, healthcare, education—who’s going to pay for that? So I’m opposed. And in the case of Sebastian Gorka—like, I would deport him immediately.

Legacy media is in constant flux. Do you see the old-school press being able to navigate this era? Or is it slowly just withering away?

Do I see NBC News making a comeback? No! I don’t know David Ellison, but he’s not a genius, I’ll tell you that. He’s buying CBS. Are you gonna buy RCA Records next? I wouldn’t take CBS News for free. I wouldn’t take CNN for free—maybe CNN International. But, like, Paramount Pictures? This is not the future. It’s not even the recent past. It’s the distant past.

I’m not exactly sure where young people are getting their information, but wherever they’re getting it is the right place, because they are so well-informed. For years, I thought that weed and porn and SSRIs and benzodiazepines have totally disabled young people. But I don’t think that anymore. I employ a lot of them, and they’re the sharpest, hardest-working people. They give me a lot of hope. And boy, they don’t believe anything. And they’re very well-informed. So much better-informed than I was when I was twenty-seven. I thought the CIA was a force for good! I literally thought that!

I think Trump is the last Fox News viewer. I’m so grateful every single day that I got fired. I probably wouldn’t have left, knowing me. I’d just be increasingly unhappy.

And here, you feel like you’ve found your—

I feel totally happy. I mean, I think my influence is overstated. I don’t seem to have influence at all. I couldn’t stop Trump from attacking Iran. And my wife, who is hilarious, literally laughed at me after the war started: “So I guess you weren’t very good at that, Mr. Powerful Influential Guy!” What matters is the ability to affect outcomes. And I have no demonstrated ability to do that. None.

Some have referred to the current divide on the right as being a split between Fox News Republicans and YouTube Republicans. Are you strategically positioning yourself as counterprogramming?

I’m not strategic in any way. I make almost all decisions on the basis of smell and instinct. I have no real idea who watches our show. I’m sure there are people who work here who have, or claim to have, a better sense of who the audience is. I really don’t. I make all decisions about what we air myself, usually without consulting anybody. I have a short attention span. That’s been a huge advantage for me over the years.

One thing I always loved about Rachel Maddow, and I often told her this, is that she just existed in her own universe. She’s off in the Berkshires alone, thinking. She was disconnected from the herd. I’ve always wanted to be that. I haven’t always succeeded. It’s shameful the number of times I’ve covered something because everyone else was talking about it. But I really try not to be that way. And increasingly, especially as I age, I am cut off.

I’ve never posted in my life. I don’t have my password on social media. I don’t read anything. I get almost all my information by text message or phone call. That’s it. It could be every bit as wrong. But I just don’t trust anybody at all, and I don’t want it in my head. I’ve never listened to a podcast. I have some form of intense dyslexia, and something about podcasts and movies and television puts me to sleep almost immediately. I still read books every day.

Are you interested in aligning yourself with other anti-war voices?

I do know what really matters is war and finance. Where does the money come from? Where does it go? And who gets killed? And on those questions, the parties are in lockstep solidarity with each other. That’s not a democracy. That’s a one-party state posing as a democracy, and it needs to be broken, and there’s going to be a third party, and I’m going to do everything I can to bring that about.

And that’s the lesson of the last two and a half months, to me. If you vote for Trump and you still wind up in a regime-change war—if Chuck Schumer is strongly behind Trump’s foreign policy, which he is—then we need options, or else let’s just give up and be ruled by the most unscrupulous people. And I’m just too young to accept that. We need a third party.

And when you say do everything you can—

I’m going to help build a third party. There should be a good-faith effort to figure out what benefits the country. I mean, if you make sixty thousand dollars a year, you’re degraded. Your life expectancy has gone down, and the promise of your children’s lives is likely gone. No one seems to care. It’s not even a factor. “What about Hamas?” I officially don’t care about Hamas. The US government should have, as its first priority, the welfare of its own people.

Would you be a candidate for this third party?

I don’t want to be a candidate. Before I did the Times interview, someone said to me, “They’re going to ask you if you’re running for president.” I was very tempted to say “I am running—on the pro-patriarchy ticket.” Just to make sure I gain no new fans.

What’s your goal in speaking to outlets like CJR or the Times—people who are presumably outside of your direct audience?

It’s the only power I have. I don’t have any tricky plan to win Times readers to my campaign for some office. I don’t have any institutional power. I don’t control a military. So all I have is the power to talk and be heard. And though it’s borne no fruit so far, I remain hopeful.

The headline of that Times interview was “What Does Tucker Carlson Really Believe?” The Atlantic used an almost identical headline for a 2019 profile.

So weird. Like I’m using some kind of verbal magic trick to hide something. From my perspective, I am the least mysterious person who’s ever lived. I don’t think I’ve ever said anything in public that’s complicated or hard to understand. I have a commitment to not doing that. I believe if you can’t explain something clearly, either you don’t understand it, or you’re trying to hide something.

What do I really believe? What do you think I’m hiding? I could talk for twenty-four hours! I’ll tell you everything I believe! I can’t stop talking!

READ ORIGINAL STORY HERE

WHO COUNTS?

The Committee to Protect Journalists’ role documenting members of the press killed in the Israel-Gaza war has made it a target.

Mourners carry the body of Abd Shaat, a Palestinian journalist killed in an Israeli strike. (AP Photo/Abdel Kareem Hana, File)

BY JEM BARTHOLOMEW

At 12:37pm EST on June 25, Jodie Ginsberg, the chief executive of the Committee to Protect Journalists (CPJ), announced that the organization was reexamining the names in its database of journalists killed in the Israel-Gaza war. “CPJ condemns in no uncertain terms the misrepresentation of combatants as journalists or media workers—or the misuse of ‘Press’ insignia. Such actions endanger every single individual journalist legitimately trying to report,” she said in a statement. “We are conducting a full review of the names on our lists to confirm that no one who was actively engaged in combat is listed in our data.” Ginsberg also pointed out that “in-person verification by researchers from outside Gaza has been impossible” because, as Gerry Shih wrote for CJR’s recent Access Issue, since the war began, Israel has barred international correspondents and press advocates from reporting independently in the territory.

Four hours later, at 4:47pm, Jacob Weisberg—the chair of CPJ’s board of directors and a cofounder of Pushkin Industries—emailed the board with an update on a parallel but distinct plan to reconsider who counts as a member of the press. He wrote, according to emails I have reviewed, that he’d established a “special task force to reexamine the question of ‘Who is a Journalist?’” He told board members: “This inquiry is not limited to Gaza, and will address questions about our protection of journalists affiliated with the non-military wings of identified terrorist organizations as well as journalists engaged in official propaganda or disinformation.” He said that nine people had already agreed to work on the task force, and that they would share their recommendation with the board at the next scheduled meeting, in October. (In response to interview requests, Weisberg referred to public statements and said that he was “not going to comment on the board’s internal discussions or processes.”)

The pair of announcements, one public and the other intended to be private, quickly set off a widespread debate about whether one of the world’s most influential press advocacy groups was caving to political pressure. Since the Israel-Gaza war began, in October of 2023, CPJ—a nonprofit headquartered in New York that promotes global press freedom, provides safety support to reporters, and produces research about attacks on the press—has kept a well-sourced and widely cited count of journalists killed. CPJ says the database records people’s names only after its researchers, based around the world, have confirmed via “at least two independent sources of information, desk-based research, and in-person research where possible” that each person is a journalist who has been killed in relation to their work. (Supporting evidence can include information from “family, colleagues, media reports, civil society, and government or independent investigations,” according to CPJ’s methodology.) The tally, at present, documents two hundred and sixty-three journalists and media workers killed in Gaza, Iran, Lebanon, and Yemen, the vast majority of them by the Israeli military, which routinely targets journalists and accuses them, without evidence, of being terrorists. CPJ’s research puts Israel’s war on Gaza down as the deadliest conflict for journalists on record. This has made the CPJ database, and the methodology behind it, a target for attacks by those seeking to discredit critics of the Benjamin Netanyahu administration.

These attacks have grown louder in recent weeks, in the wake of an article by Nicholas Kristof, published on May 11 in the New York Times’ opinion section, that reported on allegations of sexual violence perpetrated by the Israeli military, titled “The Silence That Meets the Rape of Palestinians.” A right-wing news site called the Washington Free Beacon—which once ran a piece with the headline “January 6: An Anniversary Worth Celebrating”—has since published a string of articles seeking to discredit Kristof, his sources, his family members, and the organizations he cited, including CPJ. On May 23, the Free Beacon ran a story saying that CPJ had removed some names from its database of killed journalists. (The same Beacon article quoted a spokesman for Honest Reporting—an organization that Reporters Without Borders has said “constantly defames journalists and media outlets that take a critical view of Israel”—who made the absurd allegation that news organizations citing CPJ data were “amplifying Hamas propaganda.”) On May 27, the Free Beacon published another article, this one accusing CPJ of anti-Israel bias and attacking its board members for, among other things, describing Israel’s actions in Gaza as a genocide.

Behind the scenes at CPJ, meanwhile, a related, though very different, conversation was taking shape. Throughout the spring, Hamas and Palestinian Islamic Jihad published obituaries or statements claiming that a number of people in CPJ’s database of journalists killed in the Israel-Gaza war were, in fact, active combatants. After further research, CPJ removed several names. That meant that, since October 7, 2023, a total of twenty people had been removed from the list once new information emerged indicating that they did not meet CPJ’s criteria—including eight people who were found to be active combatants. On May 27, CPJ updated its site to provide details on why the recent changes had been made. At the beginning of June, the organization quietly started “a comprehensive review” of its database, according to Sara Qudah, CPJ’s Middle East and North Africa regional director, who requested it. The goal was to check that everyone in the database fit the organization’s existing definition by verifying each individual’s status with at least two new independent sources; the undertaking also aims to uncover potential problems with the existing verification process. The review, which is ongoing, has been “led by a small team within the Middle East and North Africa program,” Qudah explained in an article for the New Arab, and is “entirely independent.”

Around the same time, a separate process got underway, under the auspices of CPJ’s board, which comprises almost thirty senior journalists, media executives, and leaders from related professions. (The board is not involved in the day-to-day running of the organization.) At a board meeting in early June, members discussed the recent Free Beacon coverage, and one member, Jonathan Klein, the former chief executive of Getty Images, told me that he proposed revisiting how CPJ defines a journalist. That proposal was taken up by Weisberg. “We are working on a process for the board to engage in that will allow us to consider the current definition and to assess what changes we might make,” he told the board on June 9, according to emails I have reviewed, promising “more details in the coming weeks.”

But when Weisberg sent his “Who is a Journalist?” email, on June 25, it came as a surprise to Nika Soon-Shiong, the publisher of Drop Site News and a CPJ board member since June of 2021. Though she was aware of Weisberg’s interest in the question, there had been no vote or discussion of whether to act on the proposal to reevaluate CPJ’s definition. “This was an effort led by a handful of board members to narrow the definition of who is a journalist and exclude Palestinian and Lebanese colleagues,” Soon-Shiong told me in a statement. On June 28, she sent an email to Weisberg and the rest of the board—which she later posted on X—voicing concerns. “I request that the Board vote on whether to proceed with this effort, given the absence of a clear objective, defined scope of work, or assessment of the potential institutional risks,” she wrote. Reevaluating the criteria for who counts as a journalist in a way that might exclude Palestinian and Lebanese reporters at state-backed outlets would cause “permanent reputational damage” to CPJ and would represent bowing to “political pressure,” she wrote. (Soon-Shiong also told me that, following her email, she was informed that her term on the board had expired; the set terms last five years. Weisberg declined to comment.)

The same day, Mohammed El-Kurd, a Palestinian writer and poet who serves as the Palestine correspondent at The Nation, claimed on X that CPJ’s board of directors “will formally change its definition of who qualifies as a journalist, to broadly exclude slain Palestinian and Lebanese journalists who worked for government-funded media outlets.” The move, he wrote, “makes a mockery of the purported mission of the organization.” The post sparked an immediate backlash on social media, including accusations that CPJ was acquiescing to political pressure—not entirely unheard of among media and tech organizations that have, for instance, been seen bending the knee to the Trump administration as it attacks the press.

On Wednesday, July 1, as controversy and confusion mounted over the operational review and the board’s plans, CPJ’s board held an emergency meeting and voted to affirm its existing definition of a journalist. The vote was seventeen to one, according to the Free Beacon, with “Fox News’s representative casting the lone no vote,” thereby halting the chair’s proposal. (The Beacon seemed to be referring to Katherine Meeks, the general counsel of Fox News Media, who did not respond to my request for an interview.) “It is not true that CPJ planned to change our definition of who is a journalist to exclude slain Palestinian and Lebanese press killed in the Israel-Gaza war,” Weisberg said in a statement after the vote, calling reports to the contrary “unsubstantiated allegations” that “undermine” CPJ’s work and “endanger” Palestinian and Lebanese journalists.

Some media coverage confused two discrete processes—the ongoing CPJ review of its data, on the one hand, and an unsuccessful push to reevaluate the broader definition of a journalist, on the other. The board of the Arab and Middle Eastern Journalists Association (AMEJA) requested an urgent meeting with Ginsberg, held on June 30. They came away reassured. As they wrote afterward to members, Ginsberg told them, “There has been no board decision to change the definition. And if they change the definition to exclude Palestinian journalists, they can take my resignation with it.” One person in the meeting, Aymann Ismail—the AMEJA board president and a senior writer at Slate, who spoke to me in a personal capacity—said Ginsberg made a clear distinction “between the daily operations of CPJ, and the board.” According to Ismail, Ginsberg told AMEJA that CPJ’s database review was “something that they would have been doing regardless of what the board was discussing, because they care very deeply about their rigorous processes of verification.”

CPJ had, in fact, undergone a recent stress-testing of its methodology, in 2025. In the spring of that year, staff representing all parts and regions of CPJ met four times to discuss who counted as a journalist. The meetings, according to emails I reviewed, involved “kicking the tires” of the organization’s definition and figuring out “where we most often get tripped up.” Where, exactly, is the point at which someone becomes a propagandist, an activist, an influencer, a foreign agent? CPJ staff agreed that “accuracy” and publishing “fact-based” material was crucial to inclusion as a journalist; that the medium or platform in question did not matter; that for someone to be considered a journalist, their witnessing should not be a one-off; and that CPJ should look at the individual journalist, not the organization to which they were affiliated, when determining their status. The process led to a slight tweak in CPJ’s public definition: “CPJ defines journalists as people who regularly cover news or comment on public affairs through any medium to report or share fact-based information with an audience.” (Changes in italics.) In June of 2025, the board of directors voted to adopt that definition.

CPJ’s long-standing inclusion of reporters affiliated with state-backed media or militant or armed groups has made it a target of bad-faith organizations like Honest Reporting. But it’s worth emphasizing that CPJ researchers evaluate whether people killed were genuinely engaged in regular journalistic activity, and that anyone they judge to be actively engaged in combat or inciting imminent violence is automatically excluded from the data. This is in line with how many human rights organizations define journalists. The UN Human Rights Office, for instance, has said that journalists are people “documenting events, analyzing issues, gathering facts, and processing data, to inform society on matters of public interest.” Notice: not people who work for journalistic institutions, but people doing journalism. This rubric could include journalists at Al-Aqsa TV in Gaza (affiliated with Hamas, the militant group that runs the government); Xinhua News Agency in China (owned by the one-party state); or, for that matter, Stars and Stripes (owned by the US Department of Defense) or Voice of America (overseen by the US Agency for Global Media). “We recognize that across the world, individuals working for these outlets are essential in providing information to communities,” Ginsberg has said.

Some human rights professionals argue that making the test of who is a journalist about one’s function, not the politics or affiliations of their employer, is important because witnesses who work for one political group or another are more likely to be found in places where ordinary reporting is suppressed or access is denied. Amos Barshad has documented for CJR how international journalists have been trying to get into Gaza for years. Does that not make any bona fide journalistic work on the ground there a public service? A vital way of recording a war that would otherwise go unseen? And if someone is killed for doing that journalistic work—for performing the role of witness, even if they report for a state-owned media organization affiliated with a group whose politics we may find grotesque—why should they be excluded from a tally of journalists slain for doing their jobs?

Ismail, of AMEJA, told me that, following his meeting with Ginsberg, it became clear that the two separate reviews were being conflated in some reports and on social media. He added, though, that he understood why the misunderstanding had elicited such a fierce response. “This is emotional for so many people, for obvious reasons. This is a matter of life and death,” he said. “We’ve seen so many examples of the Israeli military justifying the killing of journalists who no one would question their status as journalists.” He noted the grim emergence of a new term used by the Israel Defense Forces: “They were calling these people ‘combat propagandists.’ It’s not a thing. And even if that were the case—where somebody was on someone’s bankroll—that does not make them a military target.”

Other Notable Stories …
By Jem Bartholomew

On Tuesday, NPR published—then quickly retracted—an article by Nina Totenberg, NPR’s Supreme Court correspondent, stating, incorrectly, that Samuel Alito, a Supreme Court Justice, had retired. Totenberg, who is eighty-two and has been a well-sourced reporter on that beat for decades, apologized to Alito and called it her “worst professional mistake of my more than fifty years in journalism.”

Totenberg explained that the error grew out of her having misheard the answer to a question: “I asked somebody what was going on inside, to which the answer was, ‘Retirement announcements.’ I didn’t hear the s on ‘announcements,’ and I assumed—something no reporter should ever do—that” Alito was retiring, she said, according to CNN. (The announcements referred to court staff retirements.) One NPR host told Brian Stelter of CNN that the retraction was “a worst-case scenario for us.”A federal judge on Tuesday ordered the Pentagon to temporarily halt its requirement for journalists to be accompanied by an official escort while inside the building, the New York Times reported. The ruling came in response to the second of two lawsuits the paper has filed in recent months seeking to overturn restrictions imposed on journalists by Pete Hegseth, the defense secretary. The latest lawsuit, filed in May, targeted the escort requirement, calling it “retaliatory.” Judge Paul L. Friedman, of the US District Court for the District of Columbia, said in a preliminary ruling that the escort policy violated the First Amendment. For more on the Pentagon’s effort to muzzle critical national security reporting, see Ivan L. Nagy’s recent timeline for CJR.

On Monday, a reporter and a photographer for CBS News Chicago were attacked during a shoot by three men, the news organization reported. One of the men reportedly shouted a racial slur at one of the journalists, who is Black, and ordered a German shepherd to attack (it did not obey); the assailants also cracked the windshield of a CBS News van with a traffic cone and smashed a camera. “They just were trying to do anything they could to scare them unnecessarily,” a witness said. Chicago police later arrested the three men, who face felony charges including committing a hate crime, criminal damage to property, and aggravated battery of a police officer. Lisa Nandy, the UK’s secretary of state for culture, media, and sport, said last week that she was likely to ask the country’s competition watchdog to scrutinize Paramount Skydance’s takeover of Warner Bros. Discovery, which will significantly grow the Ellison family’s media empire and give it control over CNN. Nandy has given Paramount until July 6 to respond. “We are confident that our proposed transaction does not pose any media plurality issues in the UK and remain confident in our stated transaction timeline,” a spokesperson for Paramount said. In other news, Sky has announced a deal worth 1.6 billion pounds (2.1 billion dollars) to buy the broadcasting and streaming arm of ITV.For Vanity Fair, Margaux MacColl interviewed Goli Sheikholeslami, the chief executive of Politico, about, among other things, the outlet’s drive into AI. “While some media leaders have erred on the side of caution, enforcing policies that prevent or severely limit the use of AI tools, Sheikholeslami has leaned into experimentation, launching multiple public-facing AI tools and chalking up now-defunct products” as useful means of data collection, MacColl writes. One AI tool—which was still in beta and was later shut down—was asked by employees during testing to produce feature reports on fictitious lobbying groups, which it did, hallucinating false information and attributing it to Politico articles. “If you don’t participate, you don’t learn,”

 Sheikholeslami told MacColl.Three men were found not guilty on Friday of murdering Lyra McKee, a journalist from Belfast who died after being struck by a bullet in Derry, Northern Ireland, in April of 2019, at the age of twenty-nine. McKee was reporting on rioting at the time; the New IRA claimed responsibility for her killing. The three men had been on trial at Belfast Crown Court since May of 2024. Judge Patricia Smyth said “M​​cKee’s murder was an act of senseless violence” but added: “The gunman has never been brought to the court, and the evidence against those accused of assisting or encouraging has fallen short of that required for conviction.” Reporters Without Borders urged authorities to continue pursuing all legal avenues to secure justice for McKee. And Charles H. Townsend—who was chief executive of Condé Nast from 2004 to 2015, during the media industry’s transition from print to digital—died on June 11 in Florida, aged eighty-two. His daughter told the Times that his death, in a hospital, was from sepsis. Townsend “might have been an ideal steward for Condé” in an earlier era, Michael Grynbaum, a Times journalist, wrote in Empire of the Elite: Inside Condé Nast, the Media Dynasty That Reshaped America. But he “had the misfortune to reach the summit just as the mountain began to melt.”

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From Augustine To Jefferson, The Idea Of separating Church And State Has Deep Religious And Secular Roots

The founding generation: James Madison, left, and Thomas Jefferson, both proponents of the separation of church and state. Photo12/Universal Images Group via Getty Images

BY STEPHEN K. GREEN

DIRECTOR OF THE CENTER FOR RELIGION,

LAW & DEMOCRACY, WILLAMETTE

UNIVERSITY

The Trump administration’s Religious Liberty Commission released its report on June 26, 2026, on the state of religious freedom in the United States, declaring it to be under attack.

The commission was established in May 2025 to identify and report on “emerging threats to religious liberty, uphold Federal laws that protect all citizens’ full participation in a pluralistic democracy, and protect the free exercise of religion.” Despite those altruistic goals, from the beginning, the commission faced criticism that the composition and agenda of the body were slanted toward a conservative Christian perspective.

The commission conducted seven hearings over the course of a year, taking testimony from approximately 100 witnesses.

The draft report recounts numerous incidents of reputed bias and mistreatment of people based on their religious faith, and it places the blame on bureaucrats who exhibit a disdain for demonstrations of religious conviction. The report attributes much of this to the use of “the metaphor ‘wall of separation of church and state’ to justify excluding religious Americans from equal participation in the public square.”

As author of the book “Separating Church and State: A History,” I argue that the commission’s broadside on the concept of separation of church and state is misplaced, but not new. Critics have portrayed the idea as anti-religious and ahistorical ever since the Supreme Court embraced it in 1947.

Jefferson’s ‘wall of separation’

In the 1947 landmark case of Everson vs. Board of Education, involving public financial aid for religious education, the justices announced that they would use the concept of church-state separation as a guide for interpreting the religion clauses of the First Amendment to the Constitution. Those clauses state “that Congress shall make no law respecting an establishment of religion, or prohibiting the free exercise thereof.”

In that same decision, the justices also employed the metaphor of “a wall of separation between church and state,” a phrase borrowed from an 1802 letter from President Thomas Jefferson to an association of Baptist churches in Connecticut. At the time, the Baptists were a minority in a state that still maintained a religious establishment. Jefferson sympathized with their plight, employing the wall of separation metaphor to emphasize that “religion is a matter which lies solely between man and his God” and not to “the legislative powers of government.”

Tradition of separation

The idea of separate spheres of spiritual and secular functions and authority was advanced by religious and secular thinkers to benefit both religion and the state.

In his fifth century work “City of God,” St. Augustine advanced the model of two entities, one spiritual and the other temporal or earthly, each with separate authority and functions. Augustine went so far as to use an image of two walled cities separated from each other as a means to protect the purity of the church.

During the Protestant Reformation of the 16th century, both Martin Luther and John Calvin distinguished spiritual from earthly authority and called for a division of labor between the two. Luther distinguished “two kingdoms” – a spiritual kingdom and a temporal kingdom that had separate authority.

Similarly, Calvin wrote that “Christ’s spiritual Kingdom and the civil jurisdiction are things completely distinct” and, as such, “must always be considered separately” because of the great “difference and unlikeness … between ecclesiastical and civil power.”

The metaphor of a ‘wall of separation’

At the same time, religious reformers were employing concepts of walls, hedges or other barriers to ensure that the secular and religious realms remained apart.

Protestant Anabaptists – Mennonites, Hutterites, Brethren – took the theological idea of separationism to heart, seeking to keep their communities apart from what they saw as the corruptions of the fallen world. They were declining to swear oaths of allegiance to civil authorities or otherwise participate in civic functions.

The early leader of the Mennonites, Menno Simons, used the term a “separating wall” to illustrate the degree of separateness their faith required from civil authority.

Finally, Roger Williams, the Puritan-turned-Baptist founder of Rhode Island, advocated for complete religious liberty. He called for maintaining a “hedge, or wall of separation, between the garden of the church and the wilderness of the world.”

Enlightenment figures, such as John Locke, also advanced notions of separation of church and state. In 1689, Locke wrote that the church must be “absolutely separate and distinct from the commonwealth and civil affairs. The boundaries on both sides are fixed and immovable.”

Influential British writer James Burgh called for building “an impenetrable wall of separation between things sacred and civil … the less the church and state had to do with one another, it would be better for both.” Scholars believe that this was likely one source for Jefferson’s famous 1802 letter to the Connecticut Baptists where he used the same metaphor.

A familiar concept

Thus, members of the America’s founding generation were familiar with the concept of distinct spheres of authority between religion and government and the necessity of keeping those functions separate.

Even though Jefferson used the wall metaphor only once, he worked assiduously throughout his life to advance religious freedom via church-state separation. James Madison employed similar imagery, such as calling for “a great barrier” between the two.

Church-state separation wasn’t just an imagery idea; it was a concept that many people embraced. As Madison wrote, “religion & Govt. will both exist in greater purity, the less they are mixed together.”

As a result, to this day, many denominations and religiously affiliated groups, such as many Baptists, Seventh-day Adventists and members of Reform Judaism, among others, support the separation of church and state as essential for maintaining religious freedom.

And church-state separation continues to receive popular support. According to the Pew Research Center, in 2026, 54% of Americans say the government should enforce church-state separation – a consistent percentage – whereas only 13% believe it should stop enforcing it, down from 19% in 2021.

Narrow view

Despite this pedigree, the Religious Liberty Commission’s report expresses particular disdain for the “wall” metaphor, stating that “the ‘wall of separation’ phrase does not appear in the First Amendment or anywhere else in the Constitution.” The report calls it a “belabored metaphor” that “can wrongly imply that church and state are opposed to one another and must remain completely separate.”

The report also takes a narrow view of what is prohibited by the religion clauses: “that the government may not officially prefer one religion over another, take over the functions of a church, or coerce religious observance,” which would otherwise allow for other types of church-state intermixing such as government funding of religious education.

In her final opinion as a Supreme Court justice in 2005, Sandra Day O’Connor – a judicial conservative – reflected on the importance of church-state separation to guarantee full religious freedom.

“The First Amendment expresses our Nation’s fundamental commitment to religious liberty by means of two provisions – one protecting the free exercise of religion, the other barring establishment of religion.”

She concluded with a challenge: “Those who would renegotiate the boundaries between church and state must therefore answer a difficult question: Why would we trade a system that has served us so well for one that has served others so poorly?”

That the commission’s report ignores the benefit of church-state separation to American society is troubling.

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How Did It Feel To Be An American Colonist In 1776? Probably Itchy, Achy And Slightly Nauseated

Life went on in the late 18th century, regardless of your everyday ailments. Archive Photos/Getty Images

BY KATHERINE OTT

CURATOR OF MEDICINE AND SCIENCE,

NATIONAL MUSEUM OF AMERICAN

HISTORY, SMITHSONIAN INSTITUTION

Trade the tricorn hats, bonnets and homespun shirts for flip flops, sneakers and soccer jerseys, and the intrepid revolutionaries of 1776 would have looked a lot like the people of 2026. But their sense of embodiment and experience of health was markedly different from Americans today.

It goes deeper than not having aspirin, toothpaste or air conditioning, or not knowing about germs and penicillin. What was happening in their gut and mouth and on their skin was a world away from today. Chronic bodily states of indigestion, itchy skin, flatulence and slow-healing wounds were common and accommodated.

The American colonists were friends with affliction and shared their suffering socially, in writing and conversation. Ben Franklin, no stranger to suffering, wrote that “We are first mov’d by Pain, and the whole succeeding Course of our Lives is but one continu’d Series of Action with a view to be freed from it.”

Acute illnesses like smallpox, typhoid, dysentery, yellow fever and diptheria shadowed every ache and cough. But the everyday diminishment of vitality, mobility and equanimity defined life in 1776. Illness was pervasive. Rich or poor, free or enslaved, everyone was at risk.

Since I was a child, I’ve been fascinated with bodies and what it felt like to be in someone else’s skin. Now that I am a medical historian, I am lucky to be a Smithsonian curator with access to a large collection of medical instruments that figuratively put some flesh on the descriptions in old letters and medical journals about rheum, dyspepsia and other then-common conditions.

Although embodied experience varied in different localities around the Atlantic Basin by climate, legal status, race and other vulnerabilities, the instruments used on those bodies capture general notions of physical well-being. A lot is missing from our connection to people in the past when all we use are words.

Human bodies were like animals’

The few medical instruments of the revolutionary era were heavy in the hand, awkward in use and imprecise to maneuver. They also tell a story of tolerance for pain and discomfort that is both disquieting and fascinating.

The design and materials of devices such as bone saws, fleams and scarifacators – used to bleed veins and skin surfaces – illustrate the close affinity of humans with other animals. The same scalpel or bone saw that cut a human also cleft sheep, horses, pigs and other animals in distress.

The veil between species was thin. In 1776, people lived closely with their animals. They brought them into the house in bad weather or spent nights on straw in the shed with them – exclusive of genteel families, that is.

Cleanliness often took the form of river bathing, intended to invigorate rather than for sanitary purposes. In place of bathing, people changed clothes. The result was a menu of skin complaints – fungal, bacterial and otherwise.

Lice abounded. Bed bugs interrupted sleep. Scabies, ringworm, rashes from numerous unknown sources and unwashed skin was wrapped in clothing of stiff linen, smelly woolens or coarse calico. The byproduct was irritated, itchy skin with the discomfort of scratches, scabs and the stink that accompanied it.

Because infancy was risky, some colonial families and midwives followed tough love and tried to “harden” the child with cold water immersion and weaning. Many Indigenous women, on the other hand, nursed their infants until they were three or four years old. One in three colonist babies did not live to their second birthday.

Tools to purge ill humors

If a person did survive to adulthood, there was a good chance they would live to 55 or 60, barring accidents or childbirth complications.

There were few professional doctors, so healthcare came from midwives, bonesetters who also cut hair and removed cataracts, ministers, and community members, including apothecaries and plantation root doctors who were knowledgeable about plants. Although Pennsylvania Hospital in Philadelphia had been established as the first American hospital 25 years earlier, institutions for care were few at the time of the revolution.

European colonists commonly believed that the balance of humors – yellow and black biles, blood and phlegm – circulating through one’s body was important for health. Belief in the efficacy of bloodletting was well-established and undisputed until well into the 1800s.

Doctors, following accepted practice, would likely have bled or purged an ill person for humoral balance. Surgeons washed their bloody hands in contaminated water and dried them on their equally bloody apron or clothes, unaware of germs.

When fluid accumulated from infection, a practitioner might use a small sharp spear nested in a metal tube, called a trocar and cannula. The pair were pushed into the body wherever swelling threatened a patient’s health, or exploration of an inner cavity was warranted. Then the doctor removed the perforating trocar, with its triangular shaped head, and left the cannula in place, as a conduit for fluids going in or coming out.

Desperate patients drank liquor to escape the procedure in this pre-anaesthesia era. Community care by family, friends and experienced elders was often more effective and safer than a trained physician.

A mouthful of troubles

Low-level scurvy, caused by lack of vitamin C, was common, thanks to diets containing few vegetables and fruits. Mild scurvy caused bleeding gums, tooth loss and foul-smelling breath.

Home manuals offering advice for health, domestic activities and marriage included many recipes for mouth wash. Ingredients often included tobacco ash, alum, sage, clove and sometimes charcoal. Charcoal also doubled for polishing teeth.

To pull a cracked or decayed tooth, a practitioner might yank it with the claw of a tooth key, painful but quicker than slippery fingers or forceps.

Without a reliable way to keep food fresh, many meals included sour milk and meat that was beginning to rot – what colonists called “high.” Spoiled food meant dyspepsia – otherwise known as indigestion – and loose bowels.

People commonly used tobacco to treat many ailments, including indigestion, respiratory problems, pain and loathsome mouth afflictions. They also turned to laudanum, from opium, as well as the poisons mercury and antimony.

A life of daily discomfort

Retrospective diagnosis is always flawed but the Revolutionary generation experienced ailments that sound similar to diabetes, arthritis, cancer, anemia, rabies, the common cold and tuberculosis. There were no effective treatments or consistent diagnosis for any of these.

Some explanations of bodily difference were obviously wrong, such as physician and signer of the Declaration of Independence Benjamin Rush’s conviction that the dark skin of African Americans was a disease, derived from leprosy. Common wisdom also held that birthmarks were caused by the mother’s experience during pregnancy.

Bodily experiences that made sense in 1776 are often inscrutable to people today. Feelings are fleeting and words inadequate. Without considering objects, understanding history is incomplete, leaving people today disconnected from those who lived it.

We can’t directly know each colonist’s individual self. But knowing their material world through medical objects of their time allows us to visit and appreciate how they managed to cut through distractions of the body and bequeath to us those groundbreaking, enduring self-evident truths.

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As The US Turns 250, A Forgotten Founding Influence Helps Explain Its Current Unease

This painting depicts the Constitutional Convention in 1787. The Founding Fathers leaned on French philosopher Montesquieu as they designed the Constitution. GraphicaArtis/Archive Photos via Getty

BY ROBERT A. BALLINGALL

ASSOCIATE PROFESSOR OF POLITICAL

SCIENCE, UNIVERSITY OF MAINE

As the 250th anniversary of American independence approaches, many people in the U.S. are deeply concerned about the country’s future.

A recent poll by Elon University found that 69% of respondents “believe the signers of the Declaration of Independence would feel more disappointment than pride about modern American democracy.” Confidence in public institutions is historically low, and the most recent Harvard Youth Poll indicates that just a quarter of 18- to 29-year-olds “feel hopeful about the future of America.”

Many are also afraid. For the 10th consecutive year, Americans reported corrupt government officials to be their single greatest fear, according to the Chapman University Survey of American Fears, ranking above financial collapse or a loved one becoming seriously ill.

“Americans have come to see threats as not just the possibility of attack by a foreign adversary. The potential for political violence at home is part of it, along with polarization, corruption and a sense of cultural dysfunction,” pollster Kristen Soltis Anderson wrote in The New York Times. “Americans increasingly view the survival of the country as being at stake.”

How are people in the U.S. to make sense of these trends? As Americans celebrate the country’s 250th anniversary, how faithful is the U.S. today to its founding principles? I’m a political philosophy scholar who studies constitutional government. In my view, an especially helpful approach to answering such questions is to revisit the towering but neglected influence of the French philosopher Montesquieu on the founding of this country.
Montesquieu and the American founding

Charles Louis de Secondat, baron de Montesquieu, was an 18th-century philosopher and aristocrat whose book “The Spirit of the Laws” caused a sensation when published in 1748. His ideas shaped the American founders. At the Constitutional Convention, only the Bible was quoted more often.

On the separation of powers, Montesquieu was, in James Madison’s words, “the oracle who is always consulted and cited.” Of all authors cited in political writings published by Americans between 1760 and 1805, none was more frequently mentioned. He loomed so large that “American republican ideologues could recite the central points of Montesquieu’s doctrine as if it had been a catechism,” according to historian Forrest McDonald.

Montesquieu was especially celebrated for his account of how and why political power needs to be separated into branches. But behind this now familiar idea was another that is less remembered: Montesquieu’s theory of liberty inspired the founders’ own understandings of this core concept of American politics.
A theory of liberty

In “The Spirit of the Laws,” Montesquieu describes political liberty as a “tranquility of mind arising from the opinion each person has of his safety.” To be free is to believe that one is secure. But to believe as much, “it is requisite the government be so constituted as one man need not be afraid of another.”

Liberty cannot be a matter of “doing what one wants,” Montesquieu warns. What if what one person wants threatens others? Then one person’s freedom to act limits everyone else’s. No one can feel secure unless everyone lives under laws that regulate what each may do. Montesquieu understood liberty in terms of this confidence or “tranquility” because it amounts to being free from the arbitrary will of others.

When Montesquieu stresses freedom from fear of other citizens, he doesn’t just mean private individuals. He especially means those acting in a public capacity, like “magistrates” or “rulers.” If public officials’ behavior doesn’t conform to predictable norms set by law, if agents of the government can summarily arrest people, seize their property or revoke their citizenship – say, by denaturalizing and deporting them without due process – it becomes impossible to feel secure.

Even if such actions aren’t directed against me or those like me, such lawlessness is still threatening because it’s unpredictable. I might support the government’s moves against other groups in the moment, but what’s to stop the government from suddenly turning on me when the political winds change?

To prevent public officials from simply doing what they want, Montesquieu famously called for the separation of political power into branches headed by different citizens.

But, he explains, it is not enough that people live under free institutions. They must also believe those institutions to be in the service of their freedom. Liberty, then, is as much a matter of opinion as of fact.
The tyranny of opinion

Montesquieu shows in “The Spirit of the Laws” how the fundamental laws of a country can permit a free way of life even as the country’s cultural norms prevent it. A country might have a free constitution while its citizens believe they hold moral obligations inconsistent with it.

For example, today, Americans might believe that the demands of racial equity or of evangelical Christianity are so pressing that executive power would be justified in ignoring the legislature or the judiciary to serve them.

“In these instances,” Montesquieu writes, “the Constitution will be free by right and not in fact.” The people – or some of them – will experience the law as a hindrance to what they believe they ought or ought not to do.

In such cases, there arises what Montesquieu calls a tyranny “of opinion.” The laws that would otherwise free people from fear of one another and of the government instead inspire a fear all their own. The laws might prevent what some people believe is morally right, or command – in the name of protecting others’ rights or the common good – what others regard as unjust or unholy.

That misalignment between constitutional law and cultural norms makes people feel insecure. It makes the Constitution seem opposed to their will and sense of duty. It can then seem appealing for a leader to promise, in the name of freedom, to ignore the law.
A bracing reminder

In recent years, figures across the political spectrum have called for radical constitutional change – or for ignoring the Constitution outright. There are calls not only to pack the Supreme Court or to ignore its decisions, but also to abolish the Senate and the Electoral College.

From Montesquieu’s perspective, polarization worsens this appetite for disregarding constitutional norms. Each party champions a cultural agenda from which supporters of the other party recoil. Whenever either party is in office, even when it respects constitutional law, its rule can feel to the other side much like the tyranny of opinion Montesquieu describes. The other side’s policies can seem to violate deeply held values, whether it’s banning transgender girls from competing in girls sports or declining to deport immigrants residing in the U.S. illegally.

According to Montesquieu, liberty depends on the kind of civic culture the U.S. seems at risk of losing. No institutions, however well designed, can preserve liberty if citizens believe their preferred cultural norms are so obligatory that political power is needed to enforce them, opposition be damned.

A culture more tolerant of moral disagreements and less quick to reach for political power to force others to accept what they find morally wrong would help ease the distrust many Americans feel toward the government and one another. Until then, Americans will continue drifting away from the liberty that the U.S. was founded to secure.

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The Rhythms That Broke Bashir: How Sudan’s Music Shaped A Revolution

Sudanese people protest Omar al-Bashir’s authoritarian regime in 2019. Wikimedia Commons

BY CATHY WILCOCK

RESEARCH FELLOW,

UNIVERSITY OF MANCHESTER

The revolution in Sudan in 2019 has been eclipsed by the war between the Sudanese Armed Forces and the Rapid Support Forces, which began in April 2023.

But the events of 2019 demand greater attention as they hold lessons for a post-war Sudan.

Music was central to the protests in 2019. The camp outside military headquarters in Khartoum, where demonstrators gathered for weeks to demand civilian rule, became known as Sudan’s largest ever arts festival.

My research on resistance movements has led me to believe that music is not only a cosmetic accessory to protests. In Sudan, it was an integral part of the revolutionary movement that ousted the Omar al-Bashir regime. For decades, music helped cultivate anti-government sentiment and forge the networks and communities that would sustain the revolution in 2019.

I’ve explored this idea in a recent paper, drawing on interviews with protesters and musicians.
Sudanese music and resistance

Music in Sudan has historically been intertwined with popular resistance. First against colonial rulers and then – following independence in 1956 – against post-colonial despots. The patriotic anthems of the 60s and 70s expressed the sentiment that Sudan was being built by the people, not the government.

As one music fan who was a young teenager in the early 1970s said:

There were different ideas, of course, about what sounded good, but if you were making music, you were against the government, that was for sure.

One after the other, however, authoritarian regimes sought to crush all creativity – and especially music – through censorship laws and the systematic intimidation of artists.

Gigs had to be held as private events in people’s homes and even these were regularly broken up by a morality monitoring unit. Many popular musicians left for careers abroad.

But underground music scenes kept anti-government sentiment alive.

My research shows that the exodus of musicians, producers and fans under the Bashir regime did not weaken popular resistance. Instead, this displacement helped build strong transnational social networks, enabling musicians to record music outside Sudan. This was then distributed back to communities inside the borders. Later, these same social networks supported the 2019 revolution.

Throughout recent history and across various genres and scenes, music has helped the Sudanese imagine alternatives to authoritarian rule and build the relationships needed for collective action.

Given the close historical ties between resistance movements and music scenes, examining the music of the revolution provides insight into the values, identities and visions of democratic change that shaped Sudan’s revolutionary movement.

Music, gender and class

In my paper I analyse the most prominent revolution songs – collected in a shareable YouTube playlist – to explore what protesters’ choices reveal about the movement itself. The songs point to a growing openness towards gender and class.

At the 2019 protests, the revolutionaries honoured a canon of anti-oppression anthems. These included traditional Sudanese staples, hip-hop classics and contemporary pop sing-a-longs.

Not all revolutionary anthems are lyrically political, however, and there are gendered reasons for this.

In Sudan’s decades of patriarchal autocracy, speaking openly about politics through song lyrics was often far riskier for women than for men. As a result, women-led genres, such as tumtum and aghani albanat, typically centred on romance and everyday life, accompanied by handclapping and rhythms played on the doolka drum. Among highbrow creatives, these vocal and percussive genres are considered artistically subordinate to male-dominated genres. These include haqeeba, which features instrumental accompaniment on the more technically demanding oud.

However, tumtum and aghani albanat were popular with protesters in 2019. This was not because their lyrics were directly political (they were not). Rather, they represented the defiance of women who continued to create and perform music despite decades of state restrictions on women’s artistry.

Despite their lyrical playfulness and political neutrality, Sudanese society celebrated these genres in the revolution. This sends a powerful political message about a rising cultural openness towards feminine creativity, which had been inhibited by the state.

Zenig is a new Sudanese genre of music. It emerged in the early 2010s from the poor and peripheral neighbourhoods in Khartoum. It takes its rhythmic base from tumtum, and mixes this with retro keyboards, low-fi synths and improvised vocals. It is fundamentally a Khartoumian invention, and is deliberately defiant of conservative gender and class hierarchies.

Zenig contributed to the cacophony of sounds during the 2019 sit-in. One protester remembered “its fast-paced rhythmic style worked well in energising crowds”. The most likely place to hear Zenig at the sit-in was in intimate circles and small stages where friends could dance together. Before the revolution, Zenig was known in Khartoum as the music of poor outcasts.

The significance

By elevating female leadership in the music of the revolution, Sudanese revolutionaries deliberatively negotiated what an alternative ideal Sudanese society would be like; one with more empowerment for women, as both creative and political forerunners.

The inclusion of genres like Zenig at the 2019 sit-in demonstrates that Sudan’s revolution was not only about changing the regime.

For many young Sudanese, it was also an expression of yearning for broader societal change and an upending of societal power relations.

Read more: Ethiopia’s musicians fled the country after the 1974 revolution - how their culture lives on

The revolution in 2019 was a unique time for openness, experimentation and future-making facilitated by music.

Music and rebuilding

The war has prevented Sudanese civilians from continuing these important social negotiations.

The resistance movement and its musicians have been displaced within Sudan and to regional hubs like Cairo (Egypt) and Nairobi (Kenya). Many have tragically lost their lives. Some have remained in Khartoum and continue to make hopeful music against the odds.

Even as Sudan’s future remains uncertain, music will be surely be central in the rebuilding of civilian lives that will come.

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Morocco’s Hidden History: Archaeology, DNA And Carbon Dating Rewrite The Story Of The Ancient World

Satellite view of the Strait of Gibraltar, where Africa and Europe meet. NASA/GSFC/LaRC/JPL MISR Team

BY HAMZA BENATTIA

PREHISTORY,

UNIVERSITY OF CAMBRIDGE

For decades, stories about the ancient Mediterranean have centred on the grand cultures of Greece, Rome, Phoenicia and Egypt. North-west Africa seldom enters the picture before the arrival of Phoenician traders on the Moroccan coast about 3,000 years ago.

But archaeology is now revealing a different story.

Long before the first Phoenician ships (from today’s Middle East) sailed the western Mediterranean (between today’s north Africa and southern Europe), communities in what is now Morocco were farming and herding animals. They were also crossing the Strait of Gibraltar and participating in long-distance exchanges.

Over the past decade, I’ve worked on archaeology projects across Morocco. We’ve been investigating the origins of farming, long-distance exchange and the emergence of complex societies there. In my most recent study, I brought together archaeological evidence, radiocarbon dates and genetic data spanning nearly three millennia.

The study reveals that between roughly 3800 and 500 BCE – a period that saw the construction of Stonehenge, the flourishing of New Kingdom Egypt and the rise of Phoenician maritime trade – north-west Africa was not a marginal frontier. It was a crossroads linking the Mediterranean, Atlantic and Saharan worlds.

This has important implications for how we understand Africa’s past. For too long, interpretations of the continent’s history have underestimated the complexity and dynamism of its societies. By bringing north-west Africa back into the picture, archaeology is helping to correct that imbalance and reveal a richer, more interconnected reality.

A centre of multiple worlds

Geography helps explain why north-west Africa occupied such a strategic position in Mediterranean prehistory. The Strait of Gibraltar, which separates present-day Morocco and Spain, is only about 14km wide at its narrowest point. It served as a natural corridor linking Africa and Europe.

Far from being isolated, communities in today’s northern Morocco were embedded in long-distance networks for millennia. They maintained contacts with Iberia and other Atlantic regions and they interacted with Saharan populations. Later, they engaged with Mediterranean traders and settlers.

They were not passive participants in these exchanges. Archaeological evidence increasingly suggests that local communities actively participated in the networks that connected the western Mediterranean.

Early farmers and innovation

Farming was present in north-west Africa from at least 5400 BC, during the Neolithic period when agriculture was spreading across much of the western Mediterranean.

By around 3800 BC, communities in what is now Morocco were practising increasingly intensive farming and animal husbandry. One striking example is Oued Beht. At this large open-air settlement people cultivated crops, raised livestock and stored surplus food in hundreds of large underground pits.

Recent excavations reveal this was no small farming village. Covering around ten hectares, Oued Beht is among the largest agricultural settlements known in prehistoric Africa. The site may have supported a population of more than a thousand people, pointing to a level of organisation rarely documented in north-west Africa at this time.

These developments coincided with broader environmental changes, including the Sahara gradually becoming a desert. The dryness may have encouraged communities to invest more heavily in agriculture, food storage and long-term settlement in order to adapt to a less predictable environment.

At the same time, there’s clear evidence of interaction with Iberia, the peninsula that includes today’s Spain and Portugal. Shared painted pottery styles, together with ivory and ostrich eggshell objects, point to regular contacts across the Strait of Gibraltar. These local communities were already active participants in wider networks of exchange.

New influences and local continuity

During the third millennium BC, north-west Africa became part of the wider Bell Beaker phenomenon. It takes its name from distinctive bell-shaped drinking vessels which appear across a network of communities that stretch across Atlantic Europe and the western Mediterranean.

For decades, the presence of Bell Beaker pottery in the region was interpreted as evidence that local communities were simply adopting cultural innovations from Europe.

Yet in Morocco, Bell Beaker objects are found alongside distinctive local traditions. This suggests local communities were selectively integrating new elements into existing cultural frameworks.

This was clearly a process of exchange, adaptation and local agency.

The elusive Bronze Age

The second millennium BC remains one of the least understood periods in north-west African prehistory. In Iberia, large, fortified settlements and clear social hierarchies emerge. The archaeological record in north-west Africa is more fragmentary.

Even so, there are important clues.

Burial practices such as stone-built cist graves point to changes in social organisation. At sites like Kach Kouch, there is evidence for settled farming communities with round houses, storage facilities and animal herding.

Ballintober sword found in Morocco. 

There are also signs of long-distance connections continuing into this period. For example, a bronze sword recovered from the bed of a river in northern Morocco has close parallels in the British Isles. This suggests links extending far beyond the Mediterranean.

Encounters with the Phoenicians

By the early first millennium BC, Phoenician traders and settlers from the eastern Mediterranean – today’s Lebanon – began establishing settlements along the north African coast. Traditionally, this has been interpreted as a process of colonisation, with local populations as passive recipients of a more advanced culture.

Recent archaeological evidence challenges this.

At sites like Kach Kouch, local communities continued their own architectural traditions and lifestyle. They selectively adopted new elements, like wheel-made pottery and iron tools.

Kach Kouch and other settlements suggest that these societies negotiated encounters with incoming groups. They incorporated new ideas into existing cultural traditions on their own terms.

The arrival of the Phoenicians, then, did not mark the beginning of complex societies in Morocco. It was a new chapter in a much longer history of interaction, adaptation and exchange.

These advances reflect decades of work by Moroccan and international research teams. Much remains for archaeologists to do. Large parts of the region are still underexplored and new discoveries have the potential to transform our understanding even further.

What is already clear, however, is that the prehistory of north-west Africa is a story of local communities actively shaping their own place in the ancient world.

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