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For anyone who teaches at a business school, the blog post was bad news. For Juliana Schroeder, it was catastrophic. She saw the allegations when they first went up, on a Saturday in early summer 2023. Schroeder teaches management and psychology at UC Berkeley’s Haas School of Business. One of her colleagues—a star professor at Harvard Business School named Francesca Gino—had just been accused of academic fraud. The authors of the blog post, a small team of business-school researchers, had found discrepancies in four of Gino’s published papers, and they suggested that the scandal was much larger. “We believe that many more Gino-authored papers contain fake data,” the blog post said. “Perhaps dozens.”
The story was soon picked up by the mainstream press. Reporters reveled in the irony that Gino, who had made her name as an expert on the psychology of breaking rules, may herself have broken them. (“Harvard Scholar Who Studies Honesty Is Accused of Fabricating Findings,” a New York Timesheadline read.) Harvard Business School had quietly placed Gino on administrative leave just before the blog post appeared. The school had conducted its own investigation; its nearly 1,300-page internal report, which was made public only in the course of related legal proceedings, concluded that Gino “committed research misconduct intentionally, knowingly, or recklessly” in the four papers. (Gino has steadfastly denied any wrongdoing.)
Schroeder’s interest in the scandal was more personal. Gino was one of her most consistent and important research partners. Their names appear together on seven peer-reviewed articles, as well as 26 conference talks. If Gino were indeed a serial cheat, then all of that shared work—and a large swath of Schroeder’s CV—was now at risk. When a senior academic is accused of fraud, the reputations of her honest, less established colleagues may get dragged down too. “Just think how horrible it is,” Katy Milkman, another of Gino’s research partners and a tenured professor at the University of Pennsylvania’s Wharton School, told me. “It could ruin your life.”
Juliana Schroeder (LinkedIn)
To head that off, Schroeder began her own audit of all the research papers that she’d ever done with Gino, seeking out raw data from each experiment and attempting to rerun the analyses. As that summer progressed, her efforts grew more ambitious. With the help of several colleagues, Schroeder pursued a plan to verify not just her own work with Gino, but a major portion of Gino’s scientific résumé. The group started reaching out to every other researcher who had put their name on one of Gino’s 138 co-authored studies. The Many Co-Authors Project, as the self-audit would be called, aimed to flag any additional work that might be tainted by allegations of misconduct and, more important, to absolve the rest—and Gino’s colleagues, by extension—of the wariness that now afflicted the entire field.
That field was not tucked away in some sleepy corner of academia, but was instead a highly influential one devoted to the science of success. Perhaps you’ve heard that procrastination makes you more creative, or that you’re better off having fewer choices, or that you can buy happiness by giving things away. All of that is research done by Schroeder’s peers—business-school professors who apply the methods of behavioral research to such subjects as marketing, management, and decision making. In viral TED Talks and airport best sellers, on morning shows and late-night television, these business-school psychologists hold tremendous sway. They also have a presence in this magazine and many others: Nearly every business academic who is named in this story has been either quoted or cited by The Atlantic on multiple occasions. A few, including Gino, have written articles for The Atlantic themselves.
Francesca Gino (LinkedIn)
Business-school psychologists are scholars, but they aren’t shooting for a Nobel Prize. Their research doesn’t typically aim to solve a social problem; it won’t be curing anyone’s disease. It doesn’t even seem to have much influence on business practices, and it certainly hasn’t shaped the nation’s commerce. Still, its flashy findings come with clear rewards: consulting gigs and speakers’ fees, not to mention lavish academic incomes. Starting salaries at business schools can be $240,000 a year—double what they are at campus psychology departments, academics told me.
The research scandal that has engulfed this field goes far beyond the replication crisis that has plagued psychology and other disciplines in recent years. Long-standing flaws in how scientific work is done—including insufficient sample sizes and the sloppy application of statistics—have left large segments of the research literature in doubt. Many avenues of study once deemed promising turned out to be dead ends. But it’s one thing to understand that scientists have been cutting corners. It’s quite another to suspect that they’ve been creating their results from scratch.
Schroeder has long been interested in trust. She’s given lectures on “building trust-based relationships”; she’s run experiments measuring trust in colleagues. Now she was working to rebuild the sense of trust within her field. A lot of scholars were involved in the Many Co-Authors Project, but Schroeder’s dedication was singular. In October 2023, a former graduate student who had helped tip off the team of bloggers to Gino’s possible fraud wrote her own “post mortem” on the case. It paints Schroeder as exceptional among her peers: a professor who “sent a clear signal to the scientific community that she is taking this scandal seriously.” Several others echoed this assessment, saying that ever since the news broke, Schroeder has been relentless—heroic, even—in her efforts to correct the record.
But if Schroeder planned to extinguish any doubts that remained, she may have aimed too high. More than a year since all of this began, the evidence of fraud has only multiplied. The rot in business schools runs much deeper than almost anyone had guessed, and the blame is unnervingly widespread. In the end, even Schroeder would become a suspect.
Gino was accusedof faking numbers in four published papers. Just days into her digging, Schroeder uncovered another paper that appeared to be affected—and it was one that she herself had helped write.
The work, titled “Don’t Stop Believing: Rituals Improve Performance by Decreasing Anxiety,” was published in 2016, with Schroeder’s name listed second out of seven authors. Gino’s name was fourth. (The first few names on an academic paper are typically arranged in order of their contributions to the finished work.) The research it described was pretty standard for the field: a set of clever studies demonstrating the value of a life hack—one simple trick to nail your next presentation. The authors had tested the idea that simply following a routine—even one as arbitrary as drawing something on a piece of paper, sprinkling salt over it, and crumpling it up—could help calm a person’s nerves. “Although some may dismiss rituals as irrational,” the authors wrote, “those who enact rituals may well outperform the skeptics who forgo them.”
In truth, the skeptics have never had much purchase in business-school psychology. For the better part of a decade, this finding had been garnering citations—about 200, per Google Scholar. But when Schroeder looked more closely at the work, she realized it was questionable. In October 2023, she sketched out some of her concerns on the Many Co-Authors Project website.
The paper’s first two key experiments, marked in the text as Studies 1a and 1b, looked at how the salt-and-paper ritual might help students sing a karaoke version of Journey’s “Don’t Stop Believin’ ” in a lab setting. According to the paper, Study 1a found that people who did the ritual before they sang reported feeling much less anxious than people who did not; Study 1b confirmed that they had lower heart rates, as measured with a pulse oximeter, than students who did not.
As Schroeder noted in her October post, the original records of these studies could not be found. But Schroeder did have some data spreadsheets for Studies 1a and 1b—she’d posted them shortly after the paper had been published, along with versions of the studies’ research questionnaires—and she now wrote that “unexplained issues were identified” in both, and that there was “uncertainty regarding the data provenance” for the latter. Schroeder’s post did not elaborate, but anyone can look at the spreadsheets, and it doesn’t take a forensic expert to see that the numbers they report are seriously amiss.
The “unexplained issues” with Studies 1a and 1b are legion. For one thing, the figures as reported don’t appear to match the research as described in other public documents. (For example, where the posted research questionnaire instructs the students to assess their level of anxiety on a five-point scale, the results seem to run from 2 to 8.) But the single most suspicious pattern shows up in the heart-rate data. According to the paper, each student had their pulse measured three times: once at the very start, again after they were told they’d have to sing the karaoke song, and then a third time, right before the song began. I created three graphs to illustrate the data’s peculiarities. They depict the measured heart rates for each of the 167 students who are said to have participated in the experiment, presented from left to right in their numbered order on the spreadsheet. The blue and green lines, which depict the first and second heart-rate measurements, show those values fluctuating more or less as one might expect for a noisy signal, measured from lots of individuals. But the red line doesn’t look like this at all: Rather, the measured heart rates form a series going up, across a run of more than 100 consecutive students.
DATA FROM “DON’T STOP BELIEVING: RITUALS IMPROVE PERFORMANCE BY DECREASING ANXIETY” (2016), STUDY 1B (Charts by The Atlantic. Based on data posted to OSF.io.)
I’ve reviewed the case with several researchers who suggested that this tidy run of values is indicative of fraud. “I see absolutely no reason” the sequence in No. 3 “should have the order that it does,” James Heathers, a scientific-integrity investigator and an occasional Atlantic contributor, told me. The exact meaning of the pattern is unclear; if you were fabricating data, you certainly wouldn’t strive for them to look like this. Nick Brown, a scientific-integrity researcher affiliated with Linnaeus University Sweden, guessed that the ordered values in the spreadsheet may have been cooked up after the fact. In that case, it might have been less important that they formed a natural-looking plot than that, when analyzed together, they matched fake statistics that had already been reported. “Someone sat down and burned quite a bit of midnight oil,” he proposed. I asked how sure he was that this pattern of results was the product of deliberate tampering; “100 percent, 100 percent,” he told me. “In my view, there is no innocent explanation in a universe where fairies don’t exist.”
Schroeder herself would come to a similar conclusion. Months later, I asked her whether the data were manipulated. “I think it’s very likely that they were,” she said. In the summer of 2023, when she reported the findings of her audit to her fellow authors, they all agreed that, whatever really happened, the work was compromised and ought to be retracted. But they could not reach consensus on who had been at fault. Gino did not appear to be responsible for either of the paper’s karaoke studies. Then who was?
This would not seem to be a tricky question. The published version of the paper has two lead authors who are listed as having “contributed equally” to the work. One of them was Schroeder. All of the co-authors agree that she handled two experiments—labeled in the text as Studies 3 and 4—in which participants solved a set of math problems. The other main contributor was Alison Wood Brooks, a young professor and colleague of Gino’s at Harvard Business School.
From the start, there was every reason to assume that Brooks had run the studies that produced the fishy data. Certainly they are similar to Brooks’s prior work. The same quirky experimental setup—in which students were asked to wear a pulse oximeter and sing a karaoke version of “Don’t Stop Believin’ ”—appears in her dissertation from the Wharton School in 2013, and she published a portion of that work in a sole-authored paper the following year. (Brooks herself is musically inclined, performing around Boston in a rock band.)
Yet despite all of this, Brooks told the Many Co-Authors Project that she simply wasn’t sure whether she’d had access to the raw data for Study 1b, the one with the “no innocent explanation” pattern of results. She also said she didn’t know whether Gino played a role in collecting them. On the latter point, Brooks’s former Ph.D. adviser, Maurice Schweitzer, expressed the same uncertainty to the Many Co-Authors Project.
Plenty of evidence now suggests that this mystery was manufactured. The posted materials for Study 1b, along with administrative records from the lab, indicate that the work was carried out at Wharton, where Brooks was in grad school at the time, studying under Schweitzer and running another, very similar experiment. Also, the metadata for the oldest public version of the data spreadsheet lists “Alison Wood Brooks” as the last person who saved the file.
Alison Wood Brooks (LinkedIn)
Brooks, who has published research on the value of apologies, and whose first book—Talk: The Science of Conversation and the Art of Being Ourselves—is due out from Crown in January, did not respond to multiple requests for interviews or to a detailed list of written questions. Gino said that she “neither collected nor analyzed the data for Study 1a or Study 1b nor was I involved in the data audit.”
If Brooks did conduct this work and oversee its data, then Schroeder’s audit had produced a dire twist. The Many Co-Authors Project was meant to suss out Gino’s suspect work, and quarantine it from the rest. “The goal was to protect the innocent victims, and to find out what’s true about the science that had been done,” Milkman told me. But now, to all appearances, Schroeder had uncovered crooked data that apparently weren’t linked to Gino. That would mean Schroeder had another colleague who had contaminated her research. It would mean that her reputation—and the credibility of her entire field—was under threat from multiple directions at once.
Among the four research papersin which Gino was accused of cheating is one about the human tendency to misreport facts and figures for personal gain. Which is to say: She was accused of faking data for a study of when and how people might fake data. Amazingly, a different set of data from the same paper had already been flagged as the product of potential fraud, two years before the Gino scandal came to light. The first was contributed by Dan Ariely of Duke University—a frequent co-author of Gino’s and, like her, a celebrated expert on the psychology of telling lies. (Ariely has said that a Duke investigation—which the school has not acknowledged—discovered no evidence that he “falsified data or knowingly used falsified data.” He has also said that the investigation “determined that I should have done more to prevent faulty data from being published in the 2012 paper.”)
The existence of two apparently corrupted data sets was shocking: a keystone paper on the science of deception wasn’t just invalid, but possibly a scam twice over. But even in the face of this ignominy, few in business academia were ready to acknowledge, in the summer of 2023, that the problem might be larger still—and that their research literature might well be overrun with fantastical results.
Some scholars had tried to raise alarms before. In 2019, Dennis Tourish, a professor at the University of Sussex Business School, published a book titled Management Studies in Crisis: Fraud, Deception and Meaningless Research. He cites a study finding that more than a third of surveyed editors at management journals say they’ve encountered fabricated or falsified data. Even that alarming rate may undersell the problem, Tourish told me, given all of the misbehavior in his discipline that gets overlooked or covered up.
Anonymous surveys of various fields find that roughly 2 percent of scholars will admit to having fabricated, falsified, or modified data at least once in their career. But business-school psychology may be especially prone to misbehavior. For one thing, the field’s research standards are weaker than those for other psychologists. In response to the replication crisis, campus psychology departments have lately taken up a raft of methodological reforms. Statistically suspect practices that were de rigueur a dozen years ago are now uncommon; sample sizes have gotten bigger; a study’s planned analyses are now commonly written down before the work is carried out. But this great awakening has been slower to develop in business-school psychology, several academics told me. “No one wants to kill the golden goose,” one early-career researcher in business academia said. If management and marketing professors embraced all of psychology’s reforms, he said, then many of their most memorable, most TED Talk–able findings would go away. “To use marketing lingo, we’d lose our unique value proposition.”
It’s easy to imagine how cheating might lead to more cheating. If business-school psychology is beset with suspect research, then the bar for getting published in its flagship journals ratchets up: A study must be even flashier than all the other flashy findings if its authors want to stand out. Such incentives move in only one direction: Eventually, the standard tools for torturing your data will no longer be enough. Now you have to go a little further; now you have to cut your data up, and carve them into sham results. Having one or two prolific frauds around would push the bar for publishing still higher, inviting yet more corruption. (And because the work is not exactly brain surgery, no one dies as a result.) In this way, a single discipline might come to look like Major League Baseball did 20 years ago: defined by juiced-up stats.
In the face of its own cheating scandal, MLB started screening every single player for anabolic steroids. There is no equivalent in science, and certainly not in business academia. Uri Simonsohn, a professor at the Esade Business School in Barcelona, is a member of the blogging team, called Data Colada, that caught the problems in both Gino’s and Ariely’s work. (He was also a motivating force behind the Many Co-Authors Project.) Data Colada has called out other instances of sketchy work and apparent fakery within the field, but its efforts at detection are highly targeted. They’re also quite unusual. Crying foul on someone else’s bad research makes you out to be a troublemaker, or a member of the notional “data police.” It can also bring a claim of defamation. Gino filed a $25 million defamation lawsuit against Harvard and the Data Colada team not long after the bloggers attacked her work. (This past September, a judge dismissed the portion of her claims that involved the bloggers and the defamation claim against Harvard. She still has pending claims against the university for gender discrimination and breach of contract.) The risks are even greater for those who don’t have tenure. A junior academic who accuses someone else of fraud may antagonize the senior colleagues who serve on the boards and committees that make publishing decisions and determine funding and job appointments.
These risks for would-be critics reinforce an atmosphere of complacency. “It’s embarrassing how few protections we have against fraud and how easy it has been to fool us,” Simonsohn said in a 2023 webinar. He added, “We have done nothing to prevent it. Nothing.”
Like so many other scientific scandals, the one Schroeder had identified quickly sank into a swamp of closed-door reviews and taciturn committees. Schroeder says that Harvard Business School declined to investigate her evidence of data-tampering, citing a policy of not responding to allegations made more than six years after the misconduct is said to have occurred. (Harvard Business School’s head of communications, Mark Cautela, declined to comment.) Her efforts to address the issue through the University of Pennsylvania’s Office of Research Integrity likewise seemed fruitless. (A spokesperson for the Wharton School would not comment on “the existence or status of” any investigations.)
Retractions have a way of dragging out in science publishing. This one was no exception. Maryam Kouchaki, an expert on workplace ethics at Northwestern University’s Kellogg School of Management and co–editor in chief of the journal that published the “Don’t Stop Believing” paper, had first received the authors’ call to pull their work in August 2023. As the anniversary of that request drew near, Schroeder still had no idea how the suspect data would be handled, and whether Brooks—or anyone else—would be held responsible.
Finally, on October 1, the “Don’t Stop Believing” paper was removed from the scientific literature. The journal’s published notice laid out some basic conclusions from Schroeder’s audit: Studies 1a and 1b had indeed been run by Brooks, the raw data were not available, and the posted data for 1b showed “streaks of heart rate ratings that were unlikely to have occurred naturally.” Schroeder’s own contributions to the paper were also found to have some flaws: Data points had been dropped from her analysis without any explanation in the published text. (Although this practice wasn’t fully out-of-bounds given research standards at the time, the same behavior would today be understood as a form of “p-hacking”—a pernicious source of false-positive results.) But the notice did not say whether the fishy numbers from Study 1b had been fabricated, let alone by whom. Someone other than Brooks may have handled those data before publication, it suggested. “The journal could not investigate this study any further.”
Two days later, Schroeder posted to X a link to her full and final audit of the paper. “It took *hundreds* of hours of work to complete this retraction,” she wrote, in a thread that described the flaws in her own experiments and Studies 1a and 1b. “I am ashamed of helping publish this paper & how long it took to identify its issues,” the thread concluded. “I am not the same scientist I was 10 years ago. I hold myself accountable for correcting any inaccurate prior research findings and for updating my research practices to do better.” Her peers responded by lavishing her with public praise. One colleague called the self-audit “exemplary” and an “act of courage.” A prominent professor at Columbia Business School congratulated Schroeder for being “a cultural heroine, a role model for the rising generation.”
But amid this celebration of her unusual transparency, an important and related story had somehow gone unnoticed. In the course of scouting out the edges of the cheating scandal in her field, Schroeder had uncovered yet another case of seeming science fraud. And this time, she’d blown the whistle on herself.
That stunning revelation, unaccompanied by any posts on social media, had arrived in a muffled update to the Many Co-Authors Project website. Schroeder announced that she’d found “an issue” with one more paper that she’d produced with Gino. This one, “Enacting Rituals to Improve Self-Control,” came out in 2018 in the Journal of Personality and Social Psychology; its author list overlaps substantially with that of the earlier “Don’t Stop Believing” paper (though Brooks was not involved). Like the first, it describes a set of studies that purport to show the power of the ritual effect. Like the first, it includes at least one study for which data appear to have been altered. And like the first, its data anomalies have no apparent link to Gino.
The basic facts are laid out in a document that Schroeder put into an online repository, describing an internal audit that she conducted with the help of the lead author, Allen Ding Tian. (Tian did not respond to requests for comment.) The paper opens with a field experiment on women who were trying to lose weight. Schroeder, then in grad school at the University of Chicago, oversaw the work; participants were recruited at a campus gym.
Half of the women were instructed to perform a ritual before each meal for the next five days: They were to put their food into a pattern on their plate. The other half were not. Then Schroeder used a diet-tracking app to tally all the food that each woman reported eating, and found that the ones in the ritual group took in about 200 fewer calories a day, on average, than the others. But in 2023, when she started digging back into this research, she uncovered some discrepancies. According to her study’s raw materials, nine of the women who reported that they’d done the food-arranging ritual were listed on the data spreadsheet as being in the control group; six others were mislabeled in the opposite direction. When Schroeder fixed these errors for her audit, the ritual effect completely vanished. Now it looked as though the women who’d done the food-arranging had consumed a few more calories, on average, than the women who had not.
Mistakes happen in research; sometimes data get mixed up. These errors, though, appear to be intentional. The women whose data had been swapped fit a suspicious pattern: The ones whose numbers might have undermined the paper’s hypothesis were disproportionately affected. This is not a subtle thing; among the 43 women who reported that they’d done the ritual, the six most prolific eaters all got switched into the control group. Nick Brown and James Heathers, the scientific-integrity researchers, have each tried to figure out the odds that anything like the study’s published result could have been attained if the data had been switched at random. Brown’s analysis pegged the answer at one in 1 million. “Data manipulation makes sense as an explanation,” he told me. “No other explanation is immediately obvious to me.” Heathers said he felt “quite comfortable” in concluding that whatever went wrong with the experiment “was a directed process, not a random process.”
Whether or not the data alterations were intentional, their specific form—flipped conditions for a handful of participants, in a way that favored the hypothesis—matches up with data issues raised by Harvard Business School’s investigation into Gino’s work. Schroeder rejected that comparison when I brought it up, but she was willing to accept some blame. “I couldn’t feel worse about that paper and that study,” she told me. “I’m deeply ashamed of it.”
Still, she said that the source of the error wasn’t her. Her research assistants on the project may have caused the problem; Schroeder wonders if they got confused. She said that two RAs, both undergraduates, had recruited the women at the gym, and that the scene there was chaotic: Sometimes multiple people came up to them at once, and the undergrads may have had to make some changes on the fly, adjusting which participants were being put into which group for the study. Maybe things went wrong from there, Schroeder said. One or both RAs might have gotten ruffled as they tried to paper over inconsistencies in their record-keeping. They both knew what the experiment was meant to show, and how the data ought to look—so it’s possible that they peeked a little at the data and reassigned the numbers in the way that seemed correct. (Schroeder’s audit lays out other possibilities, but describes this one as the most likely.)
Schroeder’s account is certainly plausible, but it’s not a perfect fit with all of the facts. For one thing, the posted data indicate that during most days on which the study ran, the RAs had to deal with only a handful of participants—sometimes just two. How could they have gotten so bewildered?
Any further details seem unlikely to emerge. The paper was formally retracted in the February issue of the journal. Schroeder has chosen not to name the RAs who helped her with the study, and she told me that she hasn’t tried to contact them. “I just didn’t think it was appropriate,” she said. “It doesn’t seem like it would help matters at all.” By her account, neither one is currently in academia, and she did not discover any additional issues when she reviewed their other work. (I reached out to more than a dozen former RAs and lab managers who were thanked in Schroeder’s published papers from around this time. Five responded to my queries; all of them denied having helped with this experiment.) In the end, Schroeder said, she took the data at the assistants’ word. “I did not go in and change labels,” she told me. But she also said repeatedly that she doesn’t think her RAs should take the blame. “The responsibility rests with me, right? And so it was appropriate that I’m the one named in the retraction notice,” she said. Later in our conversation, she summed up her response: “I’ve tried to trace back as best I can what happened, and just be honest.”
Across the many monthsI spent reporting this story, I’d come to think of Schroeder as a paragon of scientific rigor. She has led a seminar on “Experimental Design and Research Methods” in a business program with a sterling reputation for its research standards. She’d helped set up the Many Co-Authors Project, and then pursued it as aggressively as anyone. (Simonsohn even told me that Schroeder’s look-at-everything approach was a little “overboard.”) I also knew that she was devoted to the dreary but important task of reproducing other people’s published work.
As for the dieting research, Schroeder had owned the awkward optics. “It looks weird,” she told me when we spoke in June. “It’s a weird error, and it looks consistent with changing things in the direction to get a result.” But weirder still was how that error came to light, through a detailed data audit that she’d undertaken of her own accord. Apparently, she’d gone to great effort to call attention to a damning set of facts. That alone could be taken as a sign of her commitment to transparency.
But in the months that followed, I couldn’t shake the feeling that another theory also fit the facts. Schroeder’s leading explanation for the issues in her work—An RA must have bungled the data—sounded distressingly familiar. Francesca Gino had offered up the same defense to Harvard’s investigators. The mere repetition of this story doesn’t mean that it’s invalid: Lab techs and assistants really do mishandle data on occasion, and they may of course engage in science fraud. But still.
As for Schroeder’s all-out focus on integrity, and her public efforts to police the scientific record, I came to understand that most of these had been adopted, all at once, in mid-2023, shortly after the Gino scandal broke. (The version of Schroeder’s résumé that was available on her webpage in the spring of 2023 does not describe any replication projects whatsoever.) That makes sense if the accusations changed the way she thought about her field—and she did describe them to me as “a wake-up call.” But here’s another explanation: Maybe Schroeder saw the Gino scandal as a warning that the data sleuths were on the march. Perhaps she figured that her own work might end up being scrutinized, and then, having gamed this out, she decided to be a data sleuth herself. She’d publicly commit to reexamining her colleagues’ work, doing audits of her own, and asking for corrections. This would be her play for amnesty during a crisis.
I spoke with Schroeder for the last time on the day before Halloween. She was notably composed when I confronted her with the possibility that she’d engaged in data-tampering herself. She repeated what she’d told me months before, that she definitely did not go in and change the numbers in her study. And she rejected the idea that her self-audits had been strategic, that she’d used them to divert attention from her own wrongdoing. “Honestly, it’s disturbing to hear you even lay it out,” she said. “Because I think if you were to look at my body of work and try to replicate it, I think my hit rate would be good.” She continued: “So to imply that I’ve actually been, I don’t know, doing a lot of fraudulent stuff myself for a long time, and this was a moment to come clean with it? I just don’t think the evidence bears that out.”
That wasn’t really what I’d meant to imply. The story I had in mind was more mundane—and in a sense more tragic. I went through it: Perhaps she’d fudged the results for a study just once or twice early in her career, and never again. Perhaps she’d been committed, ever since, to proper scientific methods. And perhaps she really did intend to fix some problems in her field.
Schroeder allowed that she’d been susceptible to certain research practices—excluding data, for example—that are now considered improper. So were many of her colleagues. In that sense, she’d been guilty of letting her judgment be distorted by the pressure to succeed. But I understood what she was saying: This was not the same as fraud.
Throughout our conversations, Schroeder had avoided stating outright that anyone in particular had committed fraud. But not all of her colleagues had been so cautious. Just a few days earlier, I’d received an unexpected message from Maurice Schweitzer, the senior Wharton business-school professor who oversaw Alison Wood Brooks’s “Don’t Stop Believing” research. Up to this point, he had not responded to my request for an interview, and I figured he’d chosen not to comment for this story. But he finally responded to a list of written questions. It was important for me to know, his email said, that Schroeder had “been involved in data tampering.” He included a link to the retraction notice for her paper on rituals and eating. When I asked Schweitzer to elaborate, he did not respond. (Schweitzer’s most recent academic work is focused on the damaging effects of gossip; one of his papers from 2024 is titled “The Interpersonal Costs of Revealing Others’ Secrets.”)
I laid this out for Schroeder on the phone. “Wow,” she said. “That’s unfortunate that he would say that.” She went silent for a long time. “Yeah, I’m sad he’s saying that.”
Another long silence followed. “I think that the narrative that you laid out, Dan, is going to have to be a possibility,” she said. “I don’t think there’s a way I can refute it, but I know what the truth is, and I think I did the right thing, with trying to clean the literature as much as I could.”
This is all too often where these stories end: A researcher will say that whatever really happened must forever be obscure. Dan Ariely toldBusiness Insider in February 2024: “I’ve spent a big part of the last two years trying to find out what happened. I haven’t been able to … I decided I have to move on with my life.” Schweitzer told me that the most relevant files for the “Don’t Stop Believing” paper are “long gone,” and that the chain of custody for its data simply can’t be tracked. (The Wharton School agreed, telling me that it “does not possess the requested data” for Study 1b, “as it falls outside its current data retention period.”) And now Schroeder had landed on a similar position.
It’s uncomfortable for a scientist to claim that the truth might be unknowable, just as it would be for a journalist, or any other truth-seeker by vocation. I daresay the facts regarding all of these cases may yet be amenable to further inquiry. The raw data from Study 1b may still exist, somewhere; if so, one might compare them with the posted spreadsheet to confirm that certain numbers had been altered. And Schroeder says she has the names of the RAs who worked on her dieting experiment; in theory, she could ask those people for their recollections of what happened. If figures aren’t checked, or questions aren’t asked, it’s by choice.
What feels out of reach is not so much the truth of any set of allegations, but their consequences. Gino has been placed on administrative leave, but in many other instances of suspected fraud, nothing happens. Both Brooks and Schroeder appear to be untouched. “The problem is that journal editors and institutions can be more concerned with their own prestige and reputation than finding out the truth,” Dennis Tourish, at the University of Sussex Business School, told me. “It can be easier to hope that this all just goes away and blows over and that somebody else will deal with it.”
Pablo Delcan
Some degree of disillusionment was common among the academics I spoke with for this story. The early-career researcher in business academia told me that he has an “unhealthy hobby” of finding manipulated data. But now, he said, he’s giving up the fight. “At least for the time being, I’m done,” he told me. “Feeling like Sisyphus isn’t the most fulfilling experience.” A management professor who has followed all of these cases very closely gave this assessment: “I would say that distrust characterizes many people in the field—it’s all very depressing and demotivating.”
It’s possible that no one is more depressed and demotivated, at this point, than Juliana Schroeder. “To be honest with you, I’ve had some very low moments where I’m like, ‘Well, maybe this is not the right field for me, and I shouldn’t be in it,’ ” she said. “And to even have any errors in any of my papers is incredibly embarrassing, let alone one that looks like data-tampering.”
I asked her if there was anything more she wanted to say.
“I guess I just want to advocate for empathy and transparency—maybe even in that order. Scientists are imperfect people, and we need to do better, and we can do better.” Even the Many Co-Authors Project, she said, has been a huge missed opportunity. “It was sort of like a moment where everyone could have done self-reflection. Everyone could have looked at their papers and done the exercise I did. And people didn’t.”
Maybe the situation in her field would eventually improve, she said. “The optimistic point is, in the long arc of things, we’ll self-correct, even if we have no incentive to retract or take responsibility.”
“Do you believe that?” I asked.
“On my optimistic days, I believe it.”
“Is today an optimistic day?”
“Not really.”
This article appears in the January 2025 print edition with the headline “The Fraudulent Science of Success.”
When I was taking German in college in the early years of this millennium, I once stumbled upon a word that appeared foreign even when translated into English: Diphtherie, or diphtheria. “What’s diphtheria?” I wondered, having never encountered a single soul afflicted by this disease.
Diphtheria, once known as the “strangling angel,” was a leading killer of children into the early 20th century. The bacterial infection destroys the lining of the throat, forming a layer of dead, leathery tissue that can cause death by suffocation. The disease left no corner of society untouched: Diphtheria killed Queen Victoria’s daughter, and the children of Presidents Lincoln, Garfield, and Cleveland. Parents used to speak of their first and second families, an elderly woman in Ottawa recalled, because diphtheria had swept through and all their children died.
Today, diphtheria has been so thoroughly forgotten that someone like me, born some 60 years after the invention of a diphtheria vaccine, might have no inkling of the fear it once inspired. If you have encountered diphtheria outside of the historical context, it’s likely because you have scrutinized a childhood immunization schedule: It is the “D” in the DTaP vaccine.
Vaccine breakthroughs over the past two centuries have cumulatively made the modern world a far more hospitable place to be born. For most of human history, half of all children died before reaching age 15; that number is down to just 4 percent worldwide, and far lower in developed countries, with vaccines one of the major drivers of improved life expectancy. “As a child,” the vaccine scientist Stanley Plotkin, now 92, told me, “I had several infectious diseases that almost killed me.” He ticked them off: pertussis, influenza, pneumococcal pneumonia—all of which children today are routinely vaccinated against.
But the success of vaccines has also allowed for a modern amnesia about the level of past human suffering. In a world where the ravages of polio or measles are remote, the risks of vaccines—whether imagined, or real but minute—are able to loom much larger in the minds of parents. This is the space exploited by Robert F. Kennedy Jr., one of the nation’s foremost anti-vaccine activists and now nominee for secretary of Health and Human Services. It is a stunning reversal of fortune for a man relegated to the fringes of the Democratic Party just last year. And it is also a reversal for Donald Trump, who might have flirted with anti-vaccine rhetoric in the past but also presided over a record-breaking race to create a COVID vaccine. Kennedy has promised that he would not yank vaccines off the market, but his nomination normalizes and emboldens the anti-vaccine movement. The danger now is that diseases confined to the past become diseases of the future.
Walt Orenstein trained as a pediatrician in the 1970s, when he often saw children with meningitis—a dangerous infection of membranes around the brain—that can be caused by a bacterium called Haemophilus influenzae type b or Hib. (Despite the name, it is not related to the influenza virus.) “I remember doing loads of spinal taps,” he told me, to diagnose the disease. The advent of a Hib vaccine in the 1980s virtually wiped these infections out; babies are now routinely vaccinated in the first 15 months of life. “It’s amazing there are people today calling themselves pediatricians who have never seen a case of Hib,” he says. He remembers rotavirus, too, back when it used to cause about half of all hospitalizations for diarrhea in kids under 5. “People used to say, ‘Don’t get the infant ward during diarrhea season,’” Orenstein told me. But in the 2000s, the introduction of rotavirus vaccines for babies six months and younger sharply curtailed hospitalizations.
To Orenstein, it is important that the current rotavirus vaccine has proved effective but also safe. An older rotavirus vaccine was taken off the market in 1999 when regulators learned that it gave babies an up to one-in-10,000 chance of developing a serious but usually treatable bowel obstruction called intussusception. The benefits arguably still outweighed the risks—about one in 50 babies infected with rotavirus need hospitalization—but the United States has a high bar for vaccine safety. Similarly, the U.S. switched from an oral polio vaccine containing live, weakened virus—which had a one in 2.4 million chance of causing paralysis—to a more expensive but safer shot made with inactivated viruses that cannot cause disease. No vaccine is perfect, says Gregory Poland, a vaccinologist and the president of the Atria Academy of Science & Medicine, who himself developed severe tinnitus after getting the COVID vaccine. “There will always be risks,” he told me, and he acknowledges the need to speak candidly about them. But vaccine recommendations are based on benefits that are “overwhelming” compared with their risks, he said.
The success of childhood vaccination has a perverse effect of making the benefits of these vaccines invisible. Let’s put it this way: If everyone around me is vaccinated for diphtheria but I am not, I still have virtually no chance of contracting it. There is simply no one to give it to me. This protection is also known as “herd immunity” or “community protection.” But that logic falls apart when vaccination rates slip, and the bubble of protective immunity dissolves. The impact won’t be immediate. “If we stopped vaccinating today, we wouldn’t get outbreaks tomorrow,” Orenstein said. In time, though, all-but-forgotten diseases could once again find a foothold, sickening those who chose not to be vaccinated but also those who could not be vaccinated, such as people with certain medical conditions and newborns too young for shots. In aggregate, individual decisions to refuse vaccines end up having far-reaching consequences.
Evolutionary biologists have argued that plague and pestilence rose in tandem with human civilization. Before humans built cities, back when we still lived in small bands of hunter-gatherers, a novel virus—say, from a bat—might tear through a group only to reach a dead end once everyone was immune or deceased. With no one else to infect, such a virus will burn itself out. Only when humans started clustering in large cities could certain viruses keep finding new susceptibles—babies or new migrants with no immunity, people with waning immunity—and smolder on and on and on. Infectious disease, you might then say, is a necessary condition of living in a society.
But human ingenuity has handed us a cheat code: Vaccines now allow us to enjoy the benefits of fellow humanity while preventing the constant exchange of deadly pathogens. And vaccines can, through the power of herd immunity, protect even those who are too young or too sick to be effectively vaccinated themselves. When we get vaccinated, or don’t, our decisions ricochet through the lives of others. Vaccines make us responsible for more than ourselves. And is that not what it means to live in a society?
The first chapter of Patrick Radden Keefe’s 2018 best seller, Say Nothing: A True Story of Murder and Memory in Northern Ireland, opens on a December evening in 1972, when masked intruders entered the West Belfast home of Jean McConville, a 38-year-old widowed mother of 10. As they dragged her away into a van, she told one of her sons to watch his siblings until she returned. And then she never did.
Keefe unspools the circumstances surrounding McConville’s disappearance over the course of his nonfiction doorstopper. Her kidnapping—and eventual murder—was just one crime among many that occurred during what’s known as the Troubles: From the late ’60s to the Good Friday Agreement that brokered peace in 1998, Catholic republicans seeking Irish independence clashed with Protestant factions and British soldiers, leaving thousands dead across Northern Ireland. Based on his own interviews and those conducted for a Boston College oral-history project, Keefe paints a panoramic portrait of the era that reads more like a novel than a history lesson. He studies how a common, radical cause can yield intense bonds—and also lead to profound trauma.
FX’s excellent nine-episode adaptation, now streaming on Hulu, matches the book’s ambition. The show, also called Say Nothing, similarly begins with the kidnapping of McConville (played by Judith Roddy) and subsequently delves into an ensemble of key figures involved in the Troubles. (Keefe served as an executive producer, working closely with the writers and the creator, Joshua Zetumer, to ensure an authentic adaptation.) But whereas the book tells much of the story chronologically, the series often collapses time, primarily shifting between the 1970s and the 2000s. Doing so streamlines the conflict and its aftermath into a study of juxtapositions: between youthful passion and adult disillusionment, collective ideology and individual responsibility, the appeal of secrecy and the power of confession. Sometimes, the series argues, history yields no heroes or villains, just people whose convictions curdle into confusion, and whose wounds never fully heal.
Dolours Price learned that firsthand. As a teenager during the early days of the Troubles, she joined the Provisional Irish Republican Army, a paramilitary group that broke away from the original IRA. Its young members, Dolours included, believed in using violent tactics to counter discrimination against Catholics; they were regularly harassed by the British police, prevented from living in some neighborhoods, and denied certain jobs. Like its source material, which uses a photograph of her on its cover, the show is drawn to Dolours andfollows her life story the closest, from her childhood to her death, in 2013. Teenage Dolours quickly developed a reputation among her peers as a mouthy, attractive militant who rejected the “woman’s work” of making tea that the Provisional IRA (a.k.a. “Provos”) leaders assigned her. Older Dolours seemed wary of her notoriety, refusing later chances to rejoin the fight. Instead, she became a source for the Belfast Project, Boston College’s oral history of the group’s activities, thereby implicating herself as a participant in some of the Provos’ most brutal crimes, including Jean’s murder.
The show makes clear that despite how much Dolours’s attitude changed over time, she remained the same person at her core. The younger and older versions of Dolours—played respectively by Lola Petticrew and Maxine Peake, both magnetic and well cast—overlap throughout the adaptation, an elegant choice that helps hold the sprawling narrative together. The older Dolours’s reflections soundtrack scenes of her younger self at work; the younger Dolours’s eagerness runs counter to her older self’s evident pain. Dolours’s foundational goals take center stage as the story hopscotches across time: Although she was raised to believe in the cause of Irish independence, her biggest motivation was her love for her little sister, Marian (Hazel Doupe). In her youth, she stayed at home and joined the Provos in part because going to university instead would have meant their separation. In old age, she never gave up Marian’s activities as another, more trigger-happy Provo. The focus on Dolours is pivotal to the show’s success: She embodies the struggle to separate your life and identity from the larger conflict, even after it ends.
Dolours is also an effective point of contrast for Jean, allowing the showto explore the different ways these two women moved through the world. An early scene of Dolours’s induction into the IRA, after she’s argued successfully that she can do more than serve her male peers, is spliced together with shots of Jean and her 10 children moving into their own apartment for the first time. Both women are bucking expectations; both seek to protect their families. Yet Jean’s identity as a widowed single mother is, to the IRA, a sign of weakness, a possible reason for her to become an informant for the British; her neighbors also ostracize her for comforting a wounded British soldier who collapsed outside her home. Dolours weaponizes her femininity, flirting with a border-patrol officer to gain entry into Ireland during a mission, and her Provos superiors reward her for adopting the organization’s ruthlessness. Once she’s “promoted” to be the group’s Charon, ferrying the IRA’s perceived enemies to their executions, she must also shepherd some of her own friends to their death—a responsibility that weighs on her conscience. Neither woman can disentangle her quest for independence from the unrest around her.
Say Nothing is not absent of possible antagonists—it treats Gerry Adams (Josh Finan in early scenes, Michael Colgan later on), the alleged former IRA member who later helped negotiate the peace accord in 1998 in part by turning his back on the organization, with both skepticism and sympathy. (A disclaimer at the end of every episode notes his ongoing denials of involvement in the IRA.) But the show is more interested in pointing out that the thoroughly human impulse to belong can also be shortsighted, even naive. The Provos’ extreme views allowed for a deep-seated sense of community, and these idealistic teens and 20-somethings approached their terrorist activities with starry-eyed enthusiasm: Dolours and Marian don costumes to rob a bank, giggling together after they accomplish the heist. The Provos grab beers and gossip about their crushes in between rigging car bombs. Even the older Dolours reflects upon some moments with a wistful nostalgia, underscoring the continued allure of a movement that had seemed so righteous and revolutionary.
The consequences of belonging to such communities endure too.In the pilot, one of Jean’s sons clings to her leg before the masked Provos take her away; later in the episode, Dolours does the same to a Royal Ulster Constabulary officer, grasping his leg tightly after he fends off a Protestant man who beats her with a baton at a civil-rights march. Taken together, these shots illustrate how cyclical violence and despair can be: Dolours’s failed attempt at peaceful protest leads to her devotion to the Provos, and that leads only to more pain—for her and others. Say Nothing presents Jean’s and Dolours’s fates as intertwined from the start, even before it reveals Dolours’s role in Jean’s murder—an indication of just how intimate the Troubles really were.
In focusing so much on Dolours and the Provos, Say Nothing doesn’t adapt some of the most intriguing turns in Keefe’s account—the mass prison hunger strike in the 1980s, the Belfast Project’s struggle to preserve the anonymity of its interviewees—and fast-forwards through years of political upheaval. In their stead, the series offers a thoughtfully constructed study of the conflict’s moral complexity. Say Nothing demonstrates that war can easily bring groups of people together. Ending the fighting—reckoning with atrocities, confessing to misdeeds, and assigning blame—is the hard part.
When I lived in China, a decade ago, I often saw propaganda billboards covered in words that supposedly expressed the country’s values: Patriotism. Harmony. Equality. And … Democracy. Indeed, China claims to consider itself a democratic country. So do Russia, Cuba, Iran, and so on down the list of nations ranked by their level of commitment to rights and liberties. Even North Korea fancies itself part of the club. It’s right there in the official name: the Democratic People’s Republic of Korea.
I thought of those Chinese billboards recently, when a postelection poll showed that many American voters touted the importance of democracy while supporting a candidate who had tried to overturn the results of the previous presidential election. According to a survey by the Associated Press, a full one-third of Trump voters said that democracy was their top issue. (Two-thirds of Harris voters said the same thing.) In a poll conducted before Joe Biden dropped out of the race, seven out of 10 uncommitted swing-state voters said they doubted that Donald Trump would accept the election results if he lost—but more people said they’d trust Trump to handle threats to democracy than said they’d trust Biden.
Almost all Americans say they support democracy. They even agree that it’s in trouble. But when researchers drill down, they find that different people have very different ideas about what democracy means and what threatens its survival, and that democracy is just one competing value among many. In the collective mind of U.S. voters, the concept of democracy appears to be so muddled, and their commitment to it so conditional, that it makes you wonder what, if anything, they’d do anything to stop its erosion—or whether they’d even notice that happening.
Americans perceive democracy through an almost completely partisan lens. In recent polls, Democrats tend to cite Trump—in particular, the likelihood of him seeking to subvert elections—as the biggest threat to democracy. They also point to gerrymandering, voter suppression, and Trump’s rhetoric about using the government to exact retribution as causes for concern. For Republicans, by contrast, threats to democracy take the form of mainstream media, voting by mail, immigration, and what they see as politically motivated prosecutions of Trump. Perhaps the best Rorschach test is voter-ID laws, which get characterized as “election integrity” or “voter suppression” depending on the perspective: Republicans see them as a commonsense way to make elections more accurate and accountable, while Democrats see them as a ploy to disenfranchise voters who don’t have state-issued identification. No surprise, then, that campaigning on a platform of preserving democracy didn’t work for Kamala Harris. Invoking the term to rally support assumes a shared understanding of what it means.
Even more troubling, American voters rarely prioritize democracy over other considerations. For the most part, we’re willing to overlook mischief that undermines democracy as long as our own team is the one doing it. A 2020 study in the American Political Science Review by Matthew H. Graham and Milan W. Svolik of Yale University found that only 3.5 percent of Americans would vote against a candidate whose policies they otherwise support if that candidate took antidemocratic actions, like gerrymandering or reducing the number of polling stations in an unfriendly district. Another survey found that when left-wing voters were presented with hypothetical undemocratic behavior by right-wing politicians—prohibiting protests, say, or giving private groups the ability to veto legislation—62 percent of them considered it undemocratic. But when the same behavior was attributed to left-wing politicians, only 36 percent saw it as undemocratic.
Some scholars have dubbed the phenomenon “democratic hypocrisy.” Others, however, argue that voters aren’t pretending that the antidemocratic behavior they’re supporting is democratic; they really feel that way. “People are pretty good at reasoning their way to believing that whatever they want to happen is the democratic outcome,” Brendan Nyhan, a political-science professor at Dartmouth, told me. That’s especially true if you can tell yourself that this could be your last chance before the other guy abolishes elections altogether. We just have to sacrifice a little democracy for the sake of democracy, the thinking goes. Graham, who is now an assistant professor of political science at Temple University, has studied the reaction to the 2020 presidential election and the “Stop the Steal” movement. “Our conclusion was that pretty much everyone who says in polls that the election was stolen actually believes it,” he told me.
The disturbing implication of the political-science research is that if the typical forms of incipient democratic backsliding did occur, at least half the country likely wouldn’t notice or care. Stacking the bureaucracy with loyalists, wielding law enforcement against political enemies, bullying critics into silence—these measures, all credibly threatened by President-Elect Trump, might not cut through the fog of partisan polarization. Short of tanks in the streets, most people might not perceive the destruction of democratic norms in their day-to-day life. And if Trump and his allies lose elections or fail to enact the most extreme pieces of their agenda, those data points will be held up as proof that anyone crying democratic erosion is a Chicken Little. “This is a debate that’s going to be very dumb,” Nyhan said.
You might think that, in a democracy, support for democracy itself would be nonnegotiable—that voters would reject any candidate or leader who didn’t clear that bar, because they would recognize that weakening democracy threatens their way of life. But that simple story isn’t always true. The job of genuinely pro-democracy politicians is to convince voters that democratic norms and institutions really are connected to more tangible issues that they care about—that an America with less democracy would most likely also be one with more economic inequality, for example, and fewer individual liberties.
The alternative to making and remaking the case for democracy is a descent into apathetic nihilism. Just look at the Chinese media’s coverage of the U.S. election. A video shared by China News Service said that whoever won would merely be “the face of the ruling elite, leaving ordinary people as mere spectators.” The state broadcaster China Central Television claimed that the election was plagued by “unprecedented chaos.” That kind of talk makes sense coming from democracy’s enemies. The danger is when democracies themselves start to believe it.
At a rally in Las Vegas in September, the reggaeton star Nicky Jam came onstage in a Make America Great Again hat and endorsed Donald Trump. “We need you. We need you back, right? We need you to be the president,” he said. But after a comedian at Trump’s rally at Madison Square Garden last month called Puerto Rico “a floating island of garbage,” the singer—whose father is Puerto Rican and who was raised partly on the island—had second thoughts.
“Never in my life did I think that a month later, a comedian was going to come to criticize my country and speak badly of my country, and therefore, I renounce any support for Donald Trump,” Nicky Jam said.
He had no right to be surprised. Trump himself had previously gone after Puerto Rico—he punished its leaders for criticizing him after Hurricane Maria, and sought to swap it for Greenland—but even if Nicky Jam had missed or forgotten that, he had to know who Trump was.
Nicky Jam was ahead of the curve. Since the election, Trump has moved swiftly to do things he’d said he’d do, and yet many people—especially his own supporters—seem stunned and dismayed. This is absurd. Surprise was perhaps merited in late 2016 and early 2017, when Trump was still an unknown quantity. But after four years as president, culminating in an attempt to erase an election he lost, Trump has demonstrated who he is. Somehow, the delusion of Trump à la carte—take the lib-owning, take the electoral wins, but pass on all of the unsavory stuff—persists.
In an article about how Trump’s transition is “shocking the Washington establishment,” Peter Baker of The New York Times writes: “Nine years after Mr. Trump began upsetting political norms, it may be easy to underestimate just how extraordinary all of this is.” He’s right that the aberrant nature of the picks may be overlooked, as I have warned, yet it is also true that the actual unpredictability of them is overestimated.
On K Street, Politico reports, health-care-industry lobbyists can’t believe that Trump has nominated Robert F. Kennedy Jr. to lead the Department of Health and Human Services. They were “expecting a more conventional pick,” even though Trump emphasized Kennedy’s “Make America Healthy Again” agenda late in the campaign, and even though Kennedy said that Trump had promised him control of HHS. To be sure, Kennedy is a shocking and disturbing pick, as Benjamin Mazer and my colleague Yasmin Tayag have recently written for The Atlantic, but his nomination should not come as a surprise—especially for people whose entire business proposition is being highly paid to advise clients on how Washington actually works. (The influence peddlers reportedly hope that senators will block Kennedy. The fact that they’re still waiting for someone else to solve their problems is further evidence of how little they’ve learned, years into the Trump era.)
Meanwhile, the New York Post, a key pillar of Rupert Murdoch’s right-wing media juggernaut, is similarly jittery about the Kennedy choice. Back when Kennedy was a thorn in President Joe Biden’s side, threatening to run against him in the Democratic primary, the Post’s editorial boardwas all too happy to elevate him. Now the board condemns his nomination and tells us that it came out of a meeting with him last year “thinking he’s nuts on a lot of fronts.” The columnist Michael Godwin, who beamed on November 9 that Trump’s victory “offers the promise of progress on so many fronts that it already feels like Morning in America again,” was back a week later to complain that “it’s not a close call to say” that Kennedy and Matt Gaetz, Trump’s pick for attorney general, are “unfit” for the roles.
The lobbyists and editorialists are in good company, or at least in some sort of company. On Capitol Hill, Republican senators say they are shocked by many of Trump’s Cabinet picks. Senator Susan Collins of Maine, who notoriously professed surprise when Justices Neil Gorsuch and Brett Kavanaugh voted to overturn Roe v. Wade, is “shocked” at the Gaetz nomination. Gaetz’s House Republican colleagues are “stunned and disgusted.”
Reactions to Pete Hegseth’s nomination as secretary of defense are less vitriolic, if no less baffled. “Wow,” Senator Lisa Murkowski of Alaska told NBC. “I’m just surprised, because the names that I’ve heard for secretary of defense have not included him.” Senator Bill Cassidy of Louisiana was even blunter. “Who?” he said. “I just don’t know anything about him.”
If this is true, the senators could perhaps do with some better staff work. Hegseth was a real possibility to lead the Department of Veterans Affairs in the first Trump administration; more to the point, he was a prominent figure on Fox News, which is a dominant force in the Republican Party, from whose ranks Trump has repeatedly drawn appointees.
Staffers at the affected agencies have also expressed shock and horror at the prospect of an Attorney General Gaetz, a Defense Secretary Hegseth, or a Director of National Intelligence Tulsi Gabbard.
Ordinary Americans may also be taken aback. As I reported last month, Trump critics were concerned about a “believability gap,” in which voters opposed some of Trump’s big policy ideas, sometimes quite strongly, but just didn’t trust that he would really do those things. Although they perhaps deserve more grace than the Republican officials and power brokers who are astonished, they also had ample warning about who Trump is and how he’d govern.
Throughout his presidential campaign, Trump vowed to deport undocumented immigrants en masse. He’s appointing officials such as Stephen Miller and Tom Homan who are committed to that, and yesterday morning, Trump confirmed on Truth Social a report that he would declare a national emergency and use the military to conduct mass deportations. And yet, when the roundups start in January, many people are somehow going to be taken by surprise.
Just 50 days before his reelection, Donald Trump took the time to hawk a new crypto platform.
If the country does not build out its cryptocurrency ecosystem, “we’re not going to be the biggest, and we have to be the biggest and the best,” Trump said on a livestream on X. “It’s very young and very growing. And if we don’t do it, China’s going to do it.” The livestream was sponsored by World Liberty Financial, which has given Trump the title “chief crypto advocate” and his sons, Barron, Eric, and Donald Jr., that of “Web3 ambassador.”
World Liberty Financial is the brainchild of Zak Folkman (the creator of an advisory firm called Date Hotter Girls LLC) and Chase Herro (an affiliate marketer who previously sold colon cleanses). It is a get-rich-quick scheme, and not one that seems designed to enrich its customers.
It is also an emblem of a financial world that Trump’s election seems set to supercharge, populated by young men who have seen their economic prospects stagnate, their faith in the United States falter, and a champion in a baggy business suit and a red baseball cap emerge. Think of it as the bro-economy: a volatile, speculative, and extremely online casino, in which the house is already winning big.
Its first major market sector: day-trading. I don’t mean old-fashioned, small-dollar equity investing done at the kitchen table. I mean hyper-speculative betting done with borrowed money on mobile apps, as investors shitpost and infinite-scroll. Market-moving rumors come not from corporate conferences, but from sites like YouTube and the Subreddit WallStreetBets (tagline: “Like 4chan found a Bloomberg terminal”). Users at times coordinate to buy up a certain stock with the explicit goal of screwing over a hedge fund that had bet the stock would go down.
That’s what happened four years ago with GameStop: Redditors helped to push the share price up 8,000 percent. Now so-called meme stocks are resurgent. GameStop spiked this spring. Tesla climbed when Trump won. (Tesla is both a blue-chip stock and a meme stock; Elon Musk, the company’s founder, is one of Trump’s biggest donors and closest advisers, as well as being a storied internet troll and the owner of the social-media platform X.) “This rally seems unsustainable, even if you believe in the long-term growth story for the stock,” David Wagner of Aptus Capital Advisors told Bloomberg. “It makes no sense.”
As noted by the Federal Reserve Bank of St. Louis, this trading behavior is in part driven by market democratization. A decade ago, the fintech firm Robinhood pioneered commission-free trading, allowing individuals to buy stocks or other financial assets without paying any fees. Today’s apps also allow users to purchase fractions of a stock and do not set minimum balances, ushering in less wealthy investors.
The barriers to entry are low, yet the risks are high. Today’s young day-traders tend to make frequent transactions and gravitate toward exotic trades, when research shows that investors generate the best returns when they make simple investments infrequently. The apps encourage the piling-on of risk through push alerts, promotions, and other gamifications.
The second crucial market sector: sports betting. In 2018, the Supreme Court overturned a 1992 law banning commercial sports betting outside of Nevada. That paved the way for more than three dozen states to okay the practice; 30 states also allow residents to make wagers online.
It would be hard to overstate how much this has changed pro sports and the fan experience over the past half decade. Commentators talk about fantasy leagues and prop bets as much as they talk about the game; advertisements for sportsbooks are ubiquitous; millions of spectators keep DraftKings and FanDuel up on their second screen. An estimated two in five American adults engage in sport betting. One in four online bettors has wagered more than $500 in a single day. Americans staked $120 billion last year, double what they did in 2021.
Many die-hard fans love the rise of sports betting: It’s entertaining, engaging, a way to support your favorite players and dunk on your friends. Still, in a survey, 37 percent of online bettors said they “felt bad or ashamed” for losing money. Nearly 40 percent said they bet more than they should; nearly 20 percent said they lied about the extent of their betting, and the same share said they lost cash that was meant for their day-to-day financial obligations. A strong majority supported the federal government “aggressively” regulating the market, “to specifically protect customers from compulsive gambling.”
Third and last is crypto, which boomed into the mainstream a decade ago. Today, roughly one in three young people has traded in or used crypto. Sites such as Robinhood and Coinbase make purchasing easy. (Buying bitcoin used to take significant know-how and days of waiting.) The most recent bust, in 2022, seems to have done little to deter crypto’s most ardent fans.
There might be more of them soon. For years, Trump was anti-crypto. “I am not a fan of Bitcoin and other Cryptocurrencies, which are not money, and whose value is highly volatile and based on thin air,” he wrote on Twitter five years ago. He added: “We have only one real currency in the USA, and it is stronger than ever, both dependable and reliable. It is by far the most dominant currency anywhere in the World, and it will always stay that way. It is called the United States Dollar!”
Today, he’s not just promoting shady crypto start-ups. He’s promising regulation that would allow banks to offer crypto assets to clients, making the United States the “crypto capital of the planet and the bitcoin superpower of the world.” Industry-friendly rules would lead to a flood of cash entering the crypto markets, enriching anyone with assets already in their wallets, but also increasing volatility and exposing millions more Americans to scams, frauds, and swindles.
Day-trading, sports betting, and crypto are three floors in one bustling, high-stakes casino. Many folks trade crypto and meme stocks on the same platform, thumbing over to a second app to keep their sports bets going, thumbing over again to post their wins and losses. Apps have made the experience social. They have also made staking money as frictionless as ordering Uber Eats.
The players in this casino are overwhelminglyyoungmen, roughly 40 percent of whom are into sports betting and crypto. (A smaller minority is actively trading.) No surprise, Richard Reeves, the president of the American Institute for Boys and Men, told me, when I called to ask about the bro-economy. “Risk skews male, period, for good and for ill,” he said. “There’s this greater willingness, appetite for, vulnerability to, tolerance of risk.” He appreciated how the activities gave guys something to do together and talk about with one another. He also noted how many young men felt shut out of traditional wealth-building strategies, such as homeownership.
Still, the bro-economy exploits its users’ penchant for risk. Crypto companies and betting sites do not generate value; they take cash from their users, reshuffle it, and redistribute it, while keeping a cut for themselves. Postmodern trading platforms encourage excess, making their margins on esoteric trades and superfluous volume. The casino lacks guardrails, not to benefit the bettors, but to benefit the house.
Musk and Trump have given young men something to aspire to. But their ascendance makes the stricter regulation of the bro-economy unlikely—and, in the case of crypto, makes deregulation a sure thing. Guys are about to lose billions and billions of dollars a year on apps designed to obscure risk and keep them coming back for a dopamine hit. Trump and Musk can afford to lose huge sums. Most young American men cannot.
To read a book in college, it helps to have read a book in high school, Rose Horowitch wrote in the November 2024 issue.
I’m an English teacher at a private college-preparatory school, and much of “The Elite College Students Who Can’t Read Books” sounded familiar. My students, too, now struggle to read long texts. Unaddressed in this apt article, though, are changes to the broader high-school context in which reading for homework now occurs. Today, students with elite college aspirations have extracurricular schedules that demand as much—if not more—time than school itself. These commitments are necessary, in their eyes, to gain admission to selective institutions. As a result, teachers face considerable pressure from not only students but also parents and school administrators to limit homework time—no matter if the assignment is a calculus problem set or Pride and Prejudice. In combination with considerably slower rates of reading and diminished reading comprehension, curtailed homework time means that an English teacher might not be able to assign more than 10 to 15 pages of relatively easy prose per class meeting, a rate so excruciatingly slow, it diminishes one’s ability to actually grasp a novel’s meaning and structure. I see how anxious and drained my students are, but I think it’s important for them to experience what can grow from immersive reading and sustained written thought. If we want students to read books, we have to be willing to prioritize the time for them to do so.
Anna Clark San Diego, Calif.
As a professor, I agree with my colleagues who have noticed the declining literacy of American students at elite universities.
However, I am not sure if the schools are entirely to blame. In American universities, selection is carried out by admissions offices with little interest in the qualities that faculty might consider desirable in a college student. If faculty members were polled—something that has never happened to me in my 20-year career—I’m sure we would rank interest and experience in reading books quite highly.
Admissions decisions in the United States are based on some qualities that, however admirable, have little or nothing to do with academic aptitude. In contrast, at Oxford and Cambridge, in the United Kingdom, undergraduate admissions are typically conducted by the same academics who will teach those students. Most personal statements primarily consist of a discussion of which books the student has read and what they learned from them. Students are then expected to discuss these books in more detail in an interview. When considered alongside the undergraduate selection process, the decline in literacy among American undergraduates is totally understandable.
Ione Fine
Psychology Professor, University of Washington Seattle, Wash.
Having taught English in a public school for 32 years, I am not surprised that colleges and universities are discovering that incoming students lack the skill, focus, and endurance to read novels. Throughout my career, primarily teaching ninth graders, I fostered student readership not by assigning novels for the whole class to read, but rather by allowing students to select young-adult books that they would read independently in class. Thousands of lifelong readers were created as a result.
Ten years ago, however, my district administration told me that I could no longer use class time for independent student reading. Instead, I was to focus on teaching skills and content that the district believed would improve standardized-test scores. Ironically, research showed that the students who read more books scored significantly better than their classmates on standardized reading tests.
I knew that many students were unlikely to read at home. So I doubled down: I found time for students to read during the school day and repurposed class time to allow my students to share their ideas; to question, respond, and react along with their peers. The method was so successful that the district adopted my approach for seventh through ninth grade, and I published a university-level textbook preparing teachers to create similar communities of readers in their own classrooms.
Whole-class novels just aren’t working: Some students will always be uninterested in a teacher’s choice, and perceive the classics as irrelevant and difficult to comprehend. But allowing students to select their books can help them fall in love with reading.
Michael Anthony Reading, Pa.
I am an educator of 16 years living in New Hampshire. “The Elite College Students Who Can’t Read Books” reflects a lot of what I’ve seen recently. But a large piece of the puzzle is public-school budgets. A major reason novels have been removed from curricula is money: Many districts cannot afford to purchase a book for every student, especially in the upper grades. Typically, districts will buy a “class set” of novels, about 20 to 30 books—that’s it. The books must be used during the English blocks for instruction and reading time. There are not enough books for students to take home and read; if they are reading them only in their class block, a novel will take months and months to finish. I knew of one district that would have teachers make copies of entire novels to share with their students; they’d take turns on copy duty to pull it off. I wish I could teach more complete novels, because students love it. But districts need budgets large enough to buy books for everyone.
Meaghan Kelly Rumney, N.H.
When teaching my college history courses, I have polled my students to see how many have ever read a book cover to cover. Sometimes, only a few students would raise their hand.
I inquired because I always gave them the option to read a book instead of writing a 10-page research paper. They then would have a one-on-one, hour-long discussion with me about the book they’d selected. Students who chose that option generally had a good experience. But one student shines bright in my mind. In truth, I didn’t remember him well—but he stopped me at an alumni function to say thank you. He had taken my class the second semester of his senior year to fill an elective, and he had chosen to read David McCullough’s 1776. He’d devoured the book—and he’d loved our discussion. He told me that the assignment had changed his life: Up to that point, he had never read a whole book. Since that class, he has read two or three books a month, and now has hundreds of books in his own library. He assured me that he would be a reader for the rest of his life.
It was one of the most gratifying moments of my career. I hope more teachers, professors, and parents give their students a chance to learn what this student did—that books are one of the great joys in life.
Scott Salvato Mooresville, N.C.
Rose Horowitch replies:
Anna Clark’s letter builds on an idea that I hoped to convey in the article: that the shift away from reading full books is about more than individual students, teachers, or schools. Much of the change can be understood as the consequence of a change in values. The professors I spoke with didn’t think their students were lazy; if anything, they said they were overscheduled and frazzled like never before, facing immense pressure to devote their time to activities that will further their career. Under these circumstances, it can be difficult to see how reading The Iliad in its entirety is a good use of time. Acknowledging this reality can be disheartening, because the solution will not be as simple as changing curricula at the college, high-school, or middle-school level. (And as several of these letters note, changing curricula isn’t all that straightforward.) But letters like Scott Salvato’s are a hopeful reminder of the power of a good—full—book to inspire a student to become a lifelong reader.
The Atlantic
Behind the Cover
In this month’s cover story, “How the Ivy League Broke America,” David Brooks describes the failure of the United States’ meritocracy, created in part by James Conant, the influential president of Harvard from 1933 to 1953. Conant and like-minded reformers had hoped to overturn America’s “hereditary aristocracy of wealth”; instead, they helped create a new ruling class—the so-called cognitive elite, selected and credentialed by the nation’s top universities. For our cover image, the artist Danielle Del Plato placed the story’s headline on pennants she created for each of the eight Ivy League schools, which have been instrumental in shaping and perpetuating America’s meritocracy.
— Paul Spella, Senior Art Director
Corrections
Due to an editing error, “The Elite College Students Who Can’t Read Books” (November) misstated the year Nicholas Dames started teaching Literature Humanities. He began teaching the course in 1998, not 1988. “What Zoya Sees” (November) misstated where in Nigeria Zoya Cherkassky-Nnadi and her husband, Sunny, have a home. Their home is in Ngwo, not Igwo.
This article appears in the December 2024 print edition with the headline “The Commons.”
This is an edition of The Atlantic Daily, a newsletter that guides you through the biggest stories of the day, helps you discover new ideas, and recommends the best in culture. Sign up for it here.
Donald Trump appears to experience the world through the glow of a television screen. He has long placed a premium on those who look the part in front of the camera. Paging Dr. Mehmet Oz.
Trump has picked Oz to lead the Centers for Medicare and Medicaid Services. CMS, as the agency is known, falls under the Department of Health and Human Services (HHS). Last week, Trump nominated Robert F. Kennedy Jr. to serve as HHS secretary. As you may have guessed, Kennedy and Oz are not only friends but kindred spirits. Oz is a global adviser at iHerb, a for-profit company that offers “Earth’s best-curated selection of health and wellness products at the best possible value.” He and Kennedy, two relative outsiders, are now positioned to enjoy a symbiotic relationship within Trump’s chaotic ecosystem.
Oz was last seen running for a Pennsylvania Senate seat in 2022. He lost to John Fetterman, who, despite dealing with the aftereffects of a stroke, carried the state by five points. Throughout that race, Oz struggled to combat the perception that he was a charlatan and carpetbagger who primarily lived in New Jersey. (Fetterman’s team repeatedly tagged Oz as an out-of-touch elitist, trolling him, for example, when he went grocery shopping for crudités and lamented high prices.) After that electoral defeat, Oz’s political dreams seemed all but dashed. But he wisely remained loyal to Trump—a person who has the ability to change trajectories on a whim.
In the pre-Trump era, it might have been a stretch to describe CMS administrator as an overtly political position. But Oz’s objective under Trump couldn’t be clearer. In a statement, Trump, using his reliably perplexing capitalization, telegraphed that Oz will bring a certain ethos to the job—a little MAGA, a little MAHA. Oz, Trump promised, will “cut waste and fraud within our Country’s most expensive Government Agency, which is a third of our Nation’s Healthcare spend, and a quarter of our entire National Budget.” And, because he’s Trump, he mentioned Oz’s nine daytime Emmy Awards.
Some 150 million Americans currently rely on the agency’s insurance programs, including Medicaid, Medicare, and Obamacare. Oz has been a proponent of Medicare Advantage for All. Though that sounds like the Medicare for All initiative championed by progressives such as Senator Bernie Sanders, the two programs are quite different. At its core, Medicare for All would set the U.S. on a path toward nationalizing health care. Trump would never go for that. But Medicare Advantage already exists within America’s patchwork private/public system, and Oz might push to strengthen it. He could also face budgetary pressure to weaken it. Oz’s own health-care views haven’t remained consistent. Though he once praised the mandatory universal models of Germany and Switzerland, as a Republican politician he threw his support behind privatized Medicare.
When asked about Oz’s nomination, Fetterman, his former opponent, told CNN: “As long as he’s willing to protect and preserve Medicaid and Medicare, I’m voting for the dude.” Some people were pissed. Victoria Perrone, who served as the director of operations on Fetterman’s Senate campaign, called out her old boss on social media: “Dr. Oz broke his pledge to ‘do no harm’ when he said red onions prevent ovarian cancer. My sis died of OC in 6/2022. This is a huge personal betrayal to me. We know he won’t protect the Medicaid that paid for her treatments,” Perrone posted on X. “I feel like I’ve been duped and 2 years of working on your campaign was a waste,” she added.
The above argument is illustrative of another reality Trump acknowledged in announcing his pick: “Make America Healthy Again” keeps growing. Oz, Trump declared, “will work closely with Robert F. Kennedy Jr. to take on the illness industrial complex, and all the horrible chronic diseases left in its wake.” He went a step further, promising that Oz will bring “a strong voice to the key pillars of the MAHA Movement.” Oz holds degrees from Harvard and Penn, and he worked as a professor of surgery at Columbia. In spite of that pedigree, Oz has spent years facing credible accusations of medical quackery for his endorsement of dietary supplements. In 2014, he received a dramatic dressing-down on Capitol Hill. Senator Claire McCaskill read three statements that Oz had made on his eponymous show:
“You may think magic is make-believe, but this little bean has scientists saying they’ve found the magic weight-loss cure for every body type: It’s green coffee extract.”
“I’ve got the No. 1 miracle in a bottle to burn your fat: It’s raspberry ketone.”
“Garcinia cambogia: It may be the simple solution you’ve been looking for to bust your body fat for good.”
Oz’s defense that day was that his job was to be a “cheerleader” for the Dr. Oz audience. “I actually do personally believe in the items I talk about in the show. I passionately study them. I recognize oftentimes they don’t have the scientific muster to present as fact, but nevertheless, I would give my audience the advice I give my family,” he testified.
He emerged from that hearing largely unscathed. Two years later, Oz would go on to read what he claimed were Trump’s medical records on that same show. He famously praised Trump’s testosterone levels and supposed all-around health. Four years after that, once Trump was president, Oz sent emails to White House officials, including Trump’s son-in-law Jared Kushner, pushing them to rush patient trials for hydroxychloroquine, an unproven treatment for COVID.
In the next Trump administration, those are the sorts of exchanges Oz could be having with Kennedy—or with Trump himself. How did we get here? Oz landed this gig because he’s good on TV, yes, but also because, when he entered the political arena, he fully aligned himself with Trump. The 47th president rewards loyalty. If there’s one thing that’s become clear from his administration nominations so far, it’s that.
Some of Trump’s appointments will be less consequential than others. Anything involving the health and well-being of tens of millions of Americans is inarguably serious. Oz’s confirmation is not guaranteed, but his selection has already confirmed that nothing about Trump 2.0 is mere bluster.
Republican members of the House Ethics Committee blocked the release of the investigation into the sexual-misconduct and drug-use allegations against former Representative Matt Gaetz.
Jose Ibarra, who was found guilty of killing Laken Riley on the University of Georgia campus, was sentenced to life in prison without possibility of parole.
Trump tapped former WWE CEO Linda McMahon, who previously led the U.S. Small Business Administration during Trump’s first term, to be the secretary of education.
Video by Joanne Imperio / The Atlantic. Sources: Archive Films / Getty; Internet Archive; Prelinger Associates / Getty.
Put Down the Vacuum
By Annie Lowrey
The other night, a friend came over. A dear friend. A friend who has helped me out when I’ve been sick, and who brought over takeout when I had just given birth. Still, before he arrived, I vacuumed.
I thought about this while reading the Gender Equity Policy Institute’s recent report on gender and domestic labor. The study finds that mothers spend twice as much time as fathers “on the essential and unpaid work” of taking care of kids and the home, and that women spend more time on this than men, regardless of parental and relationship status. “Simply being a woman” is the instrumental variable, the study concludes.
After 200,000 years of hunting and gathering, a history-defining decision was made. Starting roughly 12,000 years ago, at least seven different groups of humans independently began to settle down and begin farming. In so doing, they planted the seeds for modern civilization. This is traditionally told as a straightforward story of human progress. After humans made the switch, population growth increased, spurring innovative and creative endeavors that our ancestors couldn’t even imagine.
One counterintuitive strain of thought has treated this decision as “the worst mistake in the history of the human race,” as the popular author Jared Diamond once put it. The argument largely rests on research that shows our nomadic forebears were healthier and had more leisure time than those who chose to farm. Diamond, who wrote this article in 1987, when overpopulation concerns were rampant within the American environmental movement, argued that, “forced to choose between limiting population or trying to increase food production, we chose the latter and ended up with starvation, warfare, and tyranny.”
Sometimes unorthodox ideas are unorthodox for a reason. On today’s episode of Good on Paper, I’m joined by Andrea Matranga, an economist whose recent paper “The Ant and the Grasshopper: Seasonality and the Invention of Agriculture” argues that the Neolithic revolution happened as a result of climatic changes that necessitated storing food for the winter. Matranga rejects the idea that the past 12,000 years of human development were a mistake, one that underrates the threats of famine and starvation endemic to nomadic life.
“There’s a sense in which theories of the Neolithic tend to mirror the political anxieties and the social anxieties of the time in which people came up with them and in which they found favor,” Matranga tells me. “So, you know, obviously in the ’80s—WWF, environmentalism, Earth Day—people are worried about runaway population growth. So obviously in the Neolithic, they must also have had runaway population growth. There’s this interesting mix of the current events bleeding into history.”
The following is a transcript of the episode:
[Music]
Jerusalem Demsas: One of Aesop’s Fables is called “The Ant and the Grasshopper.” As the story goes, a hungry grasshopper comes up to a group of ants in the wintertime and asks them for some food to eat. They are shocked and ask him why he hasn’t stored anything up before the weather got cold. And he replies that he’d eaten well during the summer and made music while the weather was warm. The moral of the story is pretty straightforward: Save while times are good.
But for most of human history, for 200,000 years, humanity was much more like the grasshopper than the ants. As hunter-gatherers, we ate well when resources were plentiful but didn’t save for winter, making us susceptible to starvation and death.
But then something changed. Around the world, within a relatively short period of time, a bunch of humans independently began farming—and kept farming. How did this happen?
[Music]
My name’s Jerusalem Demsas. I’m a staff writer here at The Atlantic, and this is Good on Paper. It’s a policy show that questions what we really know about popular narratives.
In a paper called “The Ant and the Grasshopper: Seasonality and the Invention of Agriculture,” economist Andrea Matranga formalizes a theory for how humans went from grasshoppers to ants—for how we went from hunting and gathering to settled farming.
Climate seasonality increased, meaning winters got harsher and summers got drier. Hunter-gatherers couldn’t keep up with wildlife that fled for warmer climates. Birds can fly south for winters. Humans can’t. So they realized they needed to start storing food during good times. That meant the end of our nomadic lifestyles because people had to remain near those stores.
This paper intervenes in the literature in a couple of important ways I explored with Andrea: First, it helps untangle the mystery of how humans became farmers to begin with. But second, it pushes back against the strangely nostalgic idea that our nomadic existence was somehow better than farming—an idea that holds sway among a surprising number of people.
Let’s dive in.
[Music]
Demsas: Andrea, welcome to the show.
Andrea Matranga: Thank you so much. Thank you for having me.
Demsas: Yeah. So we’re here to talk about a very fun new paper that you’ve recently published at [The Quarterly Journal of Economics], and it’s about the Neolithic Revolution. We’re trying to go all the way back in time. We’ve done some development episodes, but this is further back than I think we’ve ever, ever gone.
I want to start with what the Neolithic Revolution was. Can you set the stage for us?
Matranga: Yes, absolutely. Neolithic means “new stone,” and it was first detected as a change in the shape of the stone tools that they were using. And then, eventually, they realized that the reason they changed the shape of the tools was also because they changed the subsistence method, meaning that before that—in the Paleolithic, in the Old Stone Age—everybody was a hunter-gatherer, meaning that they were subsisting on foods that grew wild, which they would collect, process, and consume. And then in the Neolithic, or New Stone Age, they started to grow their own food. So the origins of agriculture is what distinguishes the paleo from the Neolithic.
Demsas: And around how long ago are we talking?
Matranga: It was about 11,500 years ago in the Middle East. And there were seven of these places, and the two latest ones were in sub-Saharan Africa and in eastern North America, where it was about 4,500 years ago.
Demsas: You’ve just laid out the span of a few thousand years here where, in a bunch of different places across the world, people are independently inventing farming and agriculture. You said in sub-Saharan Africa but also in the Middle East, north and south China, the Andes, Mexico, North America. How do we know that these developments were independent? And what sorts of evidence do we have from archaeology or otherwise that signal when farming began?
Matranga: Yeah, absolutely. For some, it’s very easy. Obviously, if you look at eastern North America versus sub-Saharan Africa, these are two populations which had not had any cultural mixture, so clearly those two have to be independent.
When you go from, let’s say, south China and north China or the Middle East and sub-Saharan Africa, then it becomes a little bit murkier. Usually, the arguments that are made are that there’s no other signs of cultural contact, in the sense that the pottery styles are different; the crops that are being grown are different. Usually, you would expect that if they start doing barley and emmer wheat in the Middle East—if you thought that farmers had arrived with this knowledge of it into the Sahel region of Africa, you’d expect them to try to do some of those crops first, and then maybe they find some other crops that work better. And instead, it’s sort of completely disjoint. And that’s usually the way that they think about it.
Now, could it be that the idea that somebody was farming some distance away made their way through it? It’s possible, though one of the things is that there’s so many populations today, or in the recent past, that when they were contacted, they had knowledge of plant biology. So they understood perfectly well that if you plant a seed, a plant would grow. But they still hadn’t started farming. They were still hunting and gatherers. And so just knowing that it’s possible to do it doesn’t mean that you have a coherent sort of structure and a strategy for doing it as a population. So for example, I know that if you plant a seed, something grows, but that doesn’t mean I could sustain myself as a farmer.
Demsas: (Laughs.) Yes.
Matranga: So it still seems that, at least in the sort of making all the parts fit together, these things definitely happened independently in these places.
Demsas: But for most of human history, we’re talking about—I mean, 12,000 years ago is obviously a long time ago—but we’re talking about hundreds of thousands of years before then, where we’re a hunter-gathering and are nomads. And so this question of why we make this switch as a species is really, really interesting.
And before we get into your research, I’m hoping that we can talk through how the field was thinking about the advent of the Neolithic Revolution. And what were some of the prevailing theories about why agriculture emerged after the last Ice Age?
Matranga: Absolutely. So one of the things that happened was that, obviously, we didn’t have as many excavations done, let’s say, in 1900 as we have today. And we didn’t have as good, for example, DNA—we didn’t have DNA at all—but DNA sequencing and other stuff like that. We have much more tools. So obviously, then the theories have also kept pace with the new information that was uncovered.
If you look at the earliest theories—Darwin talks about this a little bit but also, let’s say, Braidwood—there are mainly theories about the Middle East because that one was the one where people knew that there had been a Neolithic transition. It was the first one to be excavated. And so most of the explanations are particular to the Middle East. And so one of the arguments that was made was that there might have been a climate desiccation, so it became drier around those years. And when it became drier, people were forced into these oases where there was still water. Therefore, once they were sort of constrained to these small areas, then it was easier to start farming and also necessary because there was just much less land that was fertile enough for hunting and gathering. And so you start taking better care about the land that you already have.
And then as you go forward, then one of the things that appeared in the 1960s was the fact that, actually, very often the hunter-gatherers seemed to live a life that seemed enviable in a certain way compared to farmers. And what I mean by that is that they didn’t work very long hours. They seemed that most of the time they only had to gather for a few hours a day. And, obviously, there’s an issue there, which is, What do you consider work? So is walking around hoping you’ll find something, but you don’t actually hunt—is that work? Or is it only while you’re actually chasing the animal? So that was one of the issues.
And then another issue is: When you’re a hunter-gatherer, the real problem you have is that it’s not so much about how much you eat during the average periods of times, but it’s what you do when things are very bad. And so for an anthropologist who happens to be there in a regular year, it looks like everything is great. But every 10 years, maybe, there’s a really bad year, and there’s a famine, and everybody’s starving. Now, if you don’t happen to be there in the year in which they’re having a famine, then you don’t understand why anybody would like to switch. That would be one of the caveats I would put to that hunter-gatherer issue.
And then we get to the 1980s. There was this very important book, very important also for my research, that was [by] Cohen and Armelagos. There was an edited volume from a conference in which they called hunter-gatherers the original affluent society, in the sense that what they find from many studies from many places around the world is that the farmers are actually shorter. The first farmers are shorter, much shorter, sometimes up to 10 centimeters shorter than the last hunter-gatherers. And basically, the first farmers, they get short, and they stay as short as subsistence farmers are to this day, while the hunter-gatherers—only in the last 50 to 100 years have a lot of people become as tall as the last hunter-gatherers.
Demsas: Mmm.
Matranga: And this was obviously very surprising to them. Basically, it was a continuation of this theory that perhaps it was better when we were hunter-gatherers. And then the question was: Why did they start farming if hunting and gathering was so great? And so there is this other article by Jared Diamond, and he called agriculture “the worst mistake in the history of the human race.” What he thought was it was runaway population growth.
And basically, what happens is that people think they know how the world works, so they start farming. And because you start farming, you become sedentary. And once you’re sedentary, you can have a lot more kids. Because if you’re nomadic, of course, if you have to carry your kids around, you’re going to naturally have to space out the births. And so once we become sedentary, we start having so many kids that, actually, we end up worse off than the way that we started. And what I think is interesting there is that there’s a sense in which theories of the Neolithic tend to mirror the political anxieties and the social anxieties of the time in which people came up with them and in which they found favor.
So, you know, obviously in the ’80s—WWF, environmentalism, Earth Day—people are worried about runaway population growth. So obviously, in the Neolithic, they must also have had runaway population growth. There’s this interesting mix of the current events bleeding into history, which you can also see with the Roman Empire. So everybody used to think it was because they debased the currency in the ’70s, because there was inflation in the U.S.
Demsas: And now it’s immigration. (Laughs.)
Matranga: Exactly. And now it’s immigration.
Demsas: It’s so surprising, all of a sudden.
Matranga: Exactly. So I sometimes tell students that there’s no such thing in history. There’s current events in period costume.
Demsas: (Laughs.)
Matranga: I’m exaggerating.
Demsas: It’s also a way in which our time period allows us to reflect on similarities with previous times. The Diamond one, I think, is particularly interesting. I was reading that 1987 paper. I looked it up. He was born in, like, the 1930s, so he’s in his 20s when the environmentalist and population-ethics concerns really take off. And it’s really striking. He writes, “Recent discoveries suggest that the adoption of agriculture, supposedly our most decisive step toward a better life, was in many ways a catastrophe from which we have never recovered. With agriculture came the gross social and sexual inequality, the disease and despotism, the curse of our existence.”
It’s one of those things—I think it’s useful to think through the ways that it’s possible that you may have made a very early mistake. Like, you maybe have reached an optimal point on a mountain, but you climbed a shorter mountain, and you have to go all the way back down to find a taller mountain.
But can you walk us through some of the evidence for seeing farming as a decline in living standards? Where is that coming from? I know you mentioned the height thing, but I remember reading there’s something also about increase in violence and other sorts of problems.
Matranga: Yes, absolutely. First of all, one of the things I want to just say to begin with is that it’s hard, for example, for things such as violence, in the sense that the selection pressure on archaeological remains from nomads is very different from the selection pressure for the remains of sedentary populations, simply because it’s a lot easier that remains from nomads might be very shallowly buried or not elaborately buried, while, instead, once you become settled, perhaps you have slightly more ornate tombs, which are easier to find, and other things that tend to preserve the remains.
Demsas: So we might be missing a bunch of information about the hunter-gatherer period.
Matranga: Yes, especially with things like child mortality. A lot of nomadic groups seem to not have considered kids fully humans, basically, until they were a few years old, just because the child mortality was so horrendously high, just through diseases and other things, that perhaps we have very different selective pressures.
But one of the other things that for sure we have is joint diseases. So it looks that the farmers were working more, because they tended to have more arthritis. And the joints on which they have arthritis are the ones that we would expect them to have if they were doing a lot of general farm work, digging, that sort of thing.
And also the grinding—the daily grind, right? It’s sort of an idiomatic expression because once you have these seeds—if I give you just, like, Oh, you’re hungry? Here’s a bag of unpopped popcorn.
Demsas: (Laughs.) Yeah.
Matranga: It’s like, What are you going to do with them? You have to put them on a rock and just grind them for hours and hours every day.
Demsas: I had no idea where the “daily grind” came from. I didn’t know that’s where it came from.
Matranga: Well, I didn’t until I said it.
Demsas: (Laughs.) So maybe you made it up. Okay.
Matranga: So maybe we can get one of the producers to check it. But it just came to me as I was saying it. I was like, Oh, I guess that’s where that’s from.
But to process that in an efficient way is also incredibly labor-intensive, and so their joint diseases reflect that, as well. And they also have something called porotic hyperostosis, which is, like—you get spongy bone tissue. And that is connected to anemia. So it looks like they were missing iron. And so these are some of the ways in which people have assumed that, basically, from almost everything that you could find, it looks like the farmers were actually eating less, on average, than the hunter-gatherers that came before them.
[Music]
Demsas: After the break: how the history of agriculture is actually a story about low construction costs.
[Break]
Demsas: So it’s in this backdrop that your research kind of comes in, right? People are assuming that it has to be a forced choice, because it’s obviously worse to have been a farmer than to be a hunter-gatherer.
But you have a paper that, I think, really explores and lays out a different way of thinking about things. Before you get into the meat of it, can you tell me about the genesis for the idea? What got you looking at seasonality as a predictor of the Neolithic Revolution?
Matranga: Absolutely. This is a little bit like that scene in Forrest Gump where he starts running, and he says, Well, I thought I’d run until the end of the street, and then I got to the end of the street, so I thought I’d just run into town. And 10 years later, he’s still running.
So the origin of this was that I visited my mom, and my mom was teaching Italian, as it was, at the University of Isfahan in Iran. And we went to see this ziggurat in Chogha Zanbil, which is one of those step pyramids. And I was trying to take a picture of this pyramid, and it was very hard to get a good contrast between the pyramid and the ground. And then what happened was I realized, Oh, of course, it’s hard because it’s made out of mud bricks. It’s made out of literally the same stuff that it’s sitting on. They compress it into bricks and dry them and then stack them, and that’s the pyramid.
And so then I was thinking, Well, why would agriculture originate from an area with very low construction costs? And so the idea was, Well, the reason why you would need low construction costs is because, once you farm, you’re going to get all of your food in one room at one point of the year after the harvest.
Demsas: And sorry—you’re saying that it was already established that farming had begun in places with low construction costs, or you came across this idea yourself?
Matranga: No. So the typical idea is: It starts here because it’s the Fertile Crescent, and it’s so fertile. And the problem with this theory is that the Fertile Crescent is very fertile if you compare it to, you know, the deserts north and south of it. But it’s not very fertile compared to any other place in the world. So it’s not very different in terms of the types of soil and the rainfall patterns than any other place, for example, on the north coast of the Mediterranean.
So the idea was: That’s why it started. That’s why it’s called the Fertile Crescent. And then I realized, Well, isn’t it weird that it happens to also be the place in the world with the lowest construction costs? Because it’s on an alluvial plain, so everything is clay that you can make mud bricks out of. And it doesn’t rain, so that means that it’s not gonna erode it, so you don’t have to bake the bricks, which takes a lot of energy. You just need to sun dry them, stack them, and that’s your building.
Then the idea was, Well, why would it be connected that you start agriculture, or at least it blossoms, in a place that has low construction cost? And I thought, One possibility is that they needed to defend their grain stores. So once you’ve harvested all this food, you’ve put it all in a room. Well, now that’s very attractive to any would-be thieves that would like to come and perhaps kill you and steal it. And that was my undergraduate thesis.
Then fast-forward a couple of years, and I’m doing a master’s, which later morphed into my Ph.D. at Universitat Pompeu Fabra in Barcelona. And I take this course with Hans-Joachim Voth, who later became my advisor, and it’s an Economic History course. And I tell him about what my undergraduate thesis was. And he tells me, It’s interesting, this idea of storage, because there’s this literature that says that hunter-gatherers were actually better off than farmers. And so it could be that maybe you can do some model where there’s some shocks from year to year, and having the granary helps you smooth out the consumption. And so the granary is also important for this reason. See what you can do with it. And I wrote a little paper for the course, and that was that.
From there, then the question was if this is just proof of concept that one of the advantages, that it could be when you start farming, is that you’re able to smooth your consumption. And so that’s why you accept a lower average standard of living, but you don’t get killed by famines when they happen every 10 years or so.
Demsas: It’s like insurance. You, as a human, are like, Okay, I’ll accept less food now, but I know I won’t starve in some forthcoming year.
Matranga: Exactly. And at that point, the story was still about variation from year to year, so I’m worried about famines. And a while after that, I came upon this paper by a French anthropologist called Alain Testart, and what this paper was about—it wasn’t really about farming. It was more about hunter-gatherers that become sedentary. And this happens.
Usually, we associate hunting and gathering with being nomadic, because you’re chasing the game around, or you’re moving up and down the mountains, depending on the seasons. And he said this isn’t really always the case. There’s many cases around the world of hunter-gatherers who are sedentary and have remained sedentary for centuries and millennia without progressing to agriculture.
And a classical example of this are the Native American cultures of the Pacific Northwest. And so there they exploited the salmon run. And so there’s all these millions and millions of salmons that want to reach their breeding grounds in the upland streams. And to do that, they have to pass through these rivers. And the Native Americans, they had these elaborate traps with which they capture the sustainably large, but sustainable—obviously, they wanted to let some through so that they’d reproduce a number of salmon. They’d skin them, and they’d smoke them, and they’d dry them. And that way, they had stores of food that would last them until the next salmon run, which is in the fall.
And he said, If you look at these groups, they have very hierarchical societies. They have elaborate material cultures. And so they had almost everything that we would associate with a farming community except the farming itself. Of course, the reason why they didn’t develop farming was because—it’s important, you know. The salmon is just a salmon. It’s gonna lay the eggs where it wants, and then it’s gonna go into the sea and live in the North Pacific for a few years, and then it’s gonna come back. That was an example of nomads which became sedentary and remain sedentary for hundreds and thousands of years without having farming.
And he said, And what’s crucial is that there’s food which is abundant and seasonal. And that was, like, my aha moment, because we take this story about sedentary hunter-gatherers, and then we could say, Maybe this is the stepping stone between being a nomadic hunter-gatherer and being a sedentary farmer. Because there’s this chicken-and-egg problem. Because if you’re always moving around, then how can you learn how to farm? And instead, if you don’t know how to farm, then why would you become sedentary? Because all the food is moving away. The game is moving away. You’re exhausting your local area, the plants. Why wouldn’t you just move to some other place where there’s more food?
Demsas: And you’d need multiple seasons to figure out how to farm appropriately for your region.
Matranga: Exactly. And so the idea was, by taking this Testart paper, I could say they would become sedentary first because they want to store food. And once they are sedentary and they’re storing food, then they’re preadapted for discovering agriculture, because storing food and being sedentary are two things you need to know how to do if you’re going to be a farmer. So at least you figured out that part of it before. And you do this because you’re trying to avoid seasonality, as Testart said. And this is when I switched from, instead of the problem being a famine every 15 years or whatever, then the problem is this periodic, predictable famine, which happens every year, which we call winter.
And so in order to avoid all starving in winter, we can just sit in one place, gather all these abundant foods in the places where these exist, store them, and then we can process them and eat them as we go along throughout the year, and then the next year we can do the whole thing again. And it was funny because I found this paper—it was a friend of mine’s birthday, and I had to call her and tell her, I’m sorry, but I can’t come, because I found the paper that sort of unlocks everything for me. And I’m just too excited about it, and I wouldn’t be much company.
Demsas: Did she forgive you?
Matranga: Yes. I mean, she already knew. It was baked into the pie. You know, we’d known each other a while.
And so that’s when he moved from, you know, once-in-a-while famine to predictable scarcity, which is seasonality. And from there, then my next step was, why would it be in—because one of the things that’s been observed is that the Neolithic Revolution happens right after the end of the Ice Age. And so the traditional interpretation by a bunch of people was: The Ice Age ends. Before, it’s just too cold to farm in the Middle East, and so nobody was farming there. And then when the Ice Age ends, then there’s the right climate for farming. And then you can farm.
And there’s two issues here, I think. And one of them was that if the climate is really good for farming, then it could also be really good for hunting and gathering. There might also be more wild animals. There might also be more wild plants. So it’s not entirely clear to me that a better climate automatically makes things better for farming. So that would be my first point.
And the second point is that if all you needed was a warm climate, then why couldn’t you farm during the Ice Age but, like, a thousand miles south of where you farmed when the Ice Age ended? Because it’s not like it was a snowball Earth. If you went to the equator, you know, it was still warm. And so my idea was: What was missing during the Ice Age were locations that were really good in summer but really bad in winter, because the issue with the equator isn’t that it’s too warm. The problem is that it’s warm the whole year-round—
Demsas: Yeah, so you would never start farming.
Matranga: —and therefore you don’t need to store. And the important thing is you never become sedentary in order to store, which then leads you to not starting to farm. What happens when the Ice Age ends? Now, there’s places that first it was, let’s say, –20 [degrees] in the winter and –5 in the summer. So there is seasonality, but all of the seasonality is below freezing. So it doesn’t really matter. It’s just a frozen hellscape year-round.
Well, now, if you think that moves, you know, sort of parallel, both the summer and the winter become warmer. Now you’re going to have a winter which is like –5, which is really bad. But now in the summer, let’s say it’s plus-15. Sorry—this is Celsius. I should have prefaced that. And so, basically, what happens is that now the summer is quite good, while the winter is abysmal.
And the question is: How can we exploit these very good summer conditions without getting stuck here in the winter, or without all dying in the winter? And of course, if you’re a stork, then that’s really not a problem, right? You can fly. You can go to this really warm place in the summer, have your nest there, and then in the winter, you just go back to Africa, and that’s perfect. But if you’re humans, and you’re carrying kids with you, then obviously that’s not going to work.
And so you cannot migrate your way out of a Northern Hemisphere winter. So their solution was to store food. And so they say, We can move to these places first. During the summer, we gather all the food, and then we can store it and consume it throughout the long winter. And then the next summer, we do that again. And that was sort of, like, my first idea of why it happens right after the end of the Ice Age.
Demsas: Okay, so the theory is, basically: The Ice Age ends. There’s more seasonality, meaning that the difference between summer and winter increases, so you have these kind of highly variable seasons that we’re used to now. Then people are then incentivized to store, so that they can store food for the winter. And as they’re remaining stable, they discover farming in order to supplement their diets.
Matranga: Exactly. And so the basic idea is: Once you’re sedentary, then, you know, for sure, like—I mean, what is farming? Farming is you’re expending labor in order to increase the amount of food that the land produces. So farming is really on a spectrum. Because a very simple thing you could do is chase away grazing animals so that they don’t eat the fields that you’re going to need in order to get the seed from it during the harvest season. And so that’s, in a sense, farming because you’re expending labor just chasing away the animals, and perhaps then you fence them. And then the next thing you could do is say, Well, last year, a lot of this area was flooded. So I’m going to dig a drainage ditch. And this way, when it rains, you don’t have standing water. The crops don’t rot. And we’re going to have more food the next harvest season. And then you can start doing all of these little things, which, put together, then amount to farming.
But I’ll just go back for a second to the seasonality issue, because what I later found out was that, actually, according to this theory by Serbian physicist called Milanković, it’s actually increases in seasonality which make the Ice Age end. And so what happens is that Earth’s axis is tilted—and famously, this is what causes the seasons—but sometimes it’s more tilted, and sometimes it’s less tilted. And there’s also other variations in Earth’s orbital parameters, and these influence the amount of seasonality that you have in the Northern Hemisphere and in the Southern Hemisphere. And so it’s not really that it was just the end of the Ice Age which caused seasonality to increase, but really there was this big increase in seasonality, which caused the Ice Age to end and also caused the start of agriculture.
Demsas: I would expect that there would have been farming that could come in and out of vogue. I’m curious why we don’t see that in your findings.
Matranga: I completely think that farming probably happened on some hillside 70,000 years ago and on some other hillside 30,000 years ago and some other place 15,000 years ago. And, you know, what I find really interesting and important about farming isn’t so much the fact that they did it once. It’s the fact that it’s a model which is able of spreading.
If it was just something that happened once on one hillside and then stayed there—or perhaps, you know, like the salmon run in the Pacific Northwest—that’s a fantastic accomplishment by the population that does it, but it doesn’t transform the world. Because you cannot take those salmon, bring them to a river in Iowa, and then, you know, just replicate your community in some other place. What’s special about farming is that it does sort of spread, and that it does eventually occupy most of the landmass of the world. And so it’s sort of what I call a franchisable model. It’s not just something that works in one place. You can copy-paste it all over the place.
And so I think it probably happened on some hill, but that’s not super interesting. It would be super interesting, of course, from an anthropological aspect, to find that one hillside where it happened 30,000 years ago. But that didn’t change the history of the world, clearly.
I think, in order to have that, you have to have a wide area in which there’s a lot of seasonality so that when somebody invents, first, you know, storage and sedentarism and then agriculture, then they’re able to take this packet of seeds, bring it to another place, give it to their kids. Their kids can found a colony. Perhaps they displace the local population. Perhaps they intermarry with it, perhaps not a lot of people. You know, I’m sure all three happened in different places at different times. And then their kids can do it in another place, and so you can colonize other places with this technology, or other people can copy this technology and do it in other places. And in order to have this, I think you need both the seasonality but, also, it needs to be on a wide enough area that it’s instantly appealing to everybody because they think, This is just what we’ve been waiting for, a chance to not all starve every February.
Demsas: Hopefully you can unpack why it was such a dominant strategy, right? Because you write in your paper, “Our ancestors traded a risky but abundant lifestyle for a more stable but less prosperous one, driven by risk aversion, particularly among populations near subsistence levels.” And I would imagine that you would expect to see variation based on different populations’ risk tolerance and also desire to kind of smooth their consumption. And also, it seems like there’d be a real free rider problem. Like, nomads could just go around just attacking sedentary populations, taking their food, and moving on. So it’s interesting to me that it ended up being such a dominant strategy to stay put.
Matranga: Yeah, so in terms of, obviously, the risk of raids, I think that would go back to my undergraduate thesis of sort of the importance of having some way of defending. So the first places that do this are actually, like, these hillsides—Jarmo, for example, was an early one—that are very steep on all sides. And, you know, the point is that with that, you kind of need a very specific land conformation, where it’s just the right shape of a hill, and there’s water, and there’s fields close to it, and there’s a way to get from the fields to the hill. And, you know, how many hillsides like that can you find? So the convenient thing is: Once you invent fortifications, then you can build a wall, and so build your own quote-unquote hill in the middle of the fertile plain, which is what they do with sort of Mesopotamia.
So that’s one aspect to it. The other one is that some people remain nomadic for a very long time, usually because either it’s too cold, the growing season is too short, or otherwise the rainfall is too low, and so they’re not able to farm, and the only way that they can survive in a viable number of people is by constantly moving around. But what they usually do, at that point, is they become pastoralists.
One way of seeing this is that it’s not just a matter of risk aversion, because in the end, if your risk aversion, high or low that it is—let’s say that you’re a complete nervous Nellie. You don’t want to take any risk, and you just eat grubs from under a stone, because you never want to leave your immediate area. Well, you’re probably not going to reproduce very fast, which means that either some neighbors that accepted a little bit more risk and have much higher average amount of food have more kids than you, and they can displace you, or even if you somehow intermarry with them, probably they’re not gonna accept your viewpoint on risk aversion. So the risk aversion, in the end, is something which leads you to make some choices, and these choices have some effects on the viability of your group.
Demsas: Yeah. I feel like the fertility question is really interesting here because it’s both that once you begin farming, you have to send your kids out to go farm themselves, but it increases the number of children that are born, too, that survive?
Matranga: I would say both. When you’re walking, when you’re nomadic, in principle, you cannot have more than one kid per parent, because somebody has to carry them, at least when they are, you know, below 6—because 6-year-olds can walk, but they can’t walk as fast as grown-ups.
The second aspect of this is that there’s so many diseases where if you could just stay in a place that’s warm for a couple of weeks, the kid would be fine. But if you’re in the middle of your migration, that’s it.
And the other thing is that when you’re constantly breastfeeding and moving around, you’re probably not gonna put on a lot of weight. And it would appear that a lot of hunter-gatherer women would take a few years to even be fertile again. Because they just would not achieve that—I forget if it’s 15 or 18 percent or—whatever the number is of body fat where your body can even conceive.
So absolutely, when you become sedentary, you can have more kids. And I think even if you want to remain nomadic, if there’s these farmers which are having way more kids than you survive, then if there’s ever any conflict—maybe now, maybe in two centuries—then very likely, the farmers are going to get their way.
Demsas: I’m curious about us returning to what you started this conversation with, which is the question about whether or not it was a good idea for us to move out of the hunter-gatherer stage to the farming stage. Because your paper has something to say, also, about whether we’re over-reading the evidence about humans being worse off nutritionally when they become farmers. So what’s your pushback on this question about, Maybe nutrition was actually improved once you become a farmer?
Matranga: Yes, absolutely. It’s interesting because the first concrete evidence of anything that I found in support of my thesis was what I’m about to tell you. And it’s something called “Harris lines.” So Harris was a pathologist. I believe that one of his kids had a pretty severe disease. For some reason, he saw an X-ray of his kid, and he noticed that he had this line in their bones, sort of a transverse line. So, you know, like, not in the direction of the bone—kind of like a tree ring along the growth.
And so then he explored this more, and he found out that when there is an episode of growth arrest of a child that is growing normally, then—for example, this could be a disease, or it could be that you’re not eating—and so there’s what’s called a “metabolic insult.” Your metabolism is not producing enough energy to both keep you alive while growing, and so then you have growth arrest.
And then when you start eating well again, or the disease passes, then there’s something called catch-up growth. So the body actually grows faster, because it’s trying to get back on the growth curve that it was on originally. And as it’s growing faster, it deposits this different kind of bone, which you can see from X-rays. And so it’s a little bit like a tree ring, but for mammals.
And the interesting thing is that from that same Cohen and Armelagos 1984 book, Paleopathology at the Origins of Agriculture, it also looks like the hunter-gatherers had—they were taller, up to 10 centimeters taller, but they also had—way more of these Harris lines, or growth-arrest lines, in their bones, sometimes as many as six per individual, on average, in some populations. And they also appeared to be evenly spaced, just like tree rings. And so to them, this suggested that almost every year, there would be a period of famine.
And so it really looks like it was this insurance trade-off that you mentioned before, which is that, you know: The hunter-gatherers, they ate a lot, but for a few months, at least, every year, it looks like they were starving, while the farmers, they ate less, on average, but they always ate. They were able to smooth their consumption from summer to winter, logically.
And I think that one of the reasons this had not been proposed before was because as sedentary people with bank accounts and granaries, you know, usually our problems are not about, like, I’m eating a lot this week, but what am I going to eat next week? But if you are a nomad, and you’re not able to store food, then that, I think, would be the dominant concern, and I think that’s why we accepted this trade-off. Like, Sure, we’re just going to be shorter. That’s fine. But, you know, at least we don’t starve for a couple of months every year.
Demsas: So you think this is the correct trade-off? You don’t buy the thesis that we made a mistake?
Matranga: No, no. I think we did a great trade-off. In fact, I think that part of the problem with, even, development goals—they tend to be phrased in terms of averages. We would like people to make, at least, $5 or $10 a day, on average, throughout the year. And then how can we get them to invest? Or how can we take them to become entrepreneurial and so on? But when you’re this close to starvation, I think that the average, obviously, you think about it, as well. But what you’re really worried about is, What am I going to eat in the worst possible case that could happen to me within the next 30 years?
Because the way that they survived as a population through the centuries was by taking the worst case into possibility. If I take a statistic of a country, and I measure their income every year, and for 25 years, it’s quite good, and then they all die in the 26th year, the average income is still very good, but that’s a complete disaster for the population involved.
And so if anything, I think that our way of measuring success is, again, predicated on the fact that we do have insurance, and we do have bank accounts, and we do have granaries. And so our worries are more about averages, while if you are a hunter-gatherer, your life is dominated by the worst outcome. And I think it was a correct choice. In fact, it was so correct that we forgot how awful it is to be eating a whole wildebeest that you killed and still be worried about what you’re going to eat next week.
Demsas: Well, Andrea, always our final question: What is something that you thought was a good idea at the time but ended up only being good on paper?
Matranga: As a personal anecdote, I’d spent a lot of time figuring out a good way to move to the U.S. And I loved my time in the U.S., but then I realized that moving continents is very difficult when you still have family back home. And the things that you like and that you think you’re going to enjoy when you’re 25 and don’t have kids, then once you have a family, you have to move backwards and forwards and all the summer stuff, then it starts to wear on you.
So I just realized, after being incredibly internationally minded, I still love traveling and visiting places, but I became much more homeward bound in my aspirations as time went by.
Demsas: Yeah. Well, Andrea, thank you so much for coming on the show.
Matranga: Absolutely. My absolute pleasure. Anytime.
[Music]
Demsas: Good on Paper is produced by Jinae West. It was edited by Dave Shaw, fact-checked by Ena Alvarado, and engineered by Erica Huang. Our theme music is composed by Rob Smierciak. Claudine Ebeid is the executive producer of Atlantic audio. Andrea Valdez is our managing editor.
And hey, if you like what you’re hearing, please leave us a rating and review on Apple Podcasts.
I’m Jerusalem Demsas, and we’ll see you next week.
[Music]
Matranga: So it was funny, because if you had asked me, What would you say is good on paper? And I was ready to say, Well, for all my office and copier paper needs, I use Dunder Mifflin, the paper supplier. But the setup—
Demsas: The setup was too different? You were going to go with Dunder Mifflin? That’s so funny.
Welcome to The Atlantic’s 2024 gift guide. With the help of an eclectic group of writers and editors, we offer 65 ideas for bringing more merriment, adventure, and wonder to the ones you love. Some items may be available at a holiday discount.
The Person Who Has Everything
A Map of City Movement
Courtesy of Traintrackr
Do you need the current status of cars running on the Boston T or London Underground? Or perhaps you’re curious whether the Washington Metro, or the New York or Chicago or San Francisco rapid transit systems, are running smoothly. You need to know all this, don’t you? Of course you don’t. But it would be cool to have that information flashing at you in twinkling lights. Traintrackr—which gets real-time information from these urban transit systems—is a great gift for someone who has everything, especially if they’ve lived in a city, used to live in a city, wish they did—or are glad they don’t. (“Oh, look, the Red Line to South Station is all jammed up again. Bummer.”)
— Tom Nichols, Staff Writer
When my husband came home from a visit to Los Alamos a few years back, he bore a mug that featured a bewildering collage of grainy, black-and-white headshots. Only after close inspection did I realize: These were the identification badges of the scientists who worked on the Manhattan Project. If you’re a physics nerd or history buff, many of the faces are recognizable—Enrico Fermi, Richard Feynman, Luis Alvarez, John von Neumann, and of course, J. Robert Oppenheimer. The mug has been discontinued at Los Alamos History Museum, but an enterprising science historian and blogger, Alex Wellerstein, sells one online. It’s a mesmerizing object, visually stimulating yet intensely sobering, which seems appropriate for morning coffee.
— Jennifer Senior, Staff Writer
No one needs another scarf or another sweater (even a great sweater), and we all have enough socks to last us from now until Armageddon. Don’t even talk to me about steak knives. Knives are all the same. Except for the Swiss Army knife, which is an entire tool chest contained in one beautifully designed red cover. You’ve got your blades, you’ve got your magnifying glass, you’ve got a fork that can be a spoon, a spoon that can be a fork, a hammer, tweezers, a toothpick, a corkscrew. I believe there’s even a fishing pole somewhere in there. What a gift! It looks beautiful just sitting there on the counter. It fits nicely in a drawer. And it gives you confidence in your pocket. Stepping on it could be a problem, but that’s true for any knife. It really is the perfect gift.
— Henry Winkler, Actor
Watch collecting can be a brutal, unforgiving hobby, but not if you start out right with the Lorca Model No. 2. The musician and watch lover Jesse Marchant designed this future classic. It’s got 100 meters of water-resistance (go for a swim!), can time events with a chronograph, and even has a second time zone on the bezel for travel. Most important, it will make you look smart and attractive. Spend $2,650 for a watch way cooler than a Rolex. Tell them Gary sent you.
— Gary Shteyngart, Author
No one you know needs to own a beautiful handcrafted grater in the shape of an animal. Everyone you know would be thrilled to receive one. These are made by the chef-adored Japanese brand Ooya Seisakusho using centuries-old techniques and can be used to grate lemon, ginger, garlic, cheese, or anything else. This is the rare kitchen tool that requires no technique and very little storage space but makes everything feel special.
— Ellen Cushing, Staff Writer
This holiday season my gift recommendation is the product known as Rogaine. Is this a gift? I believe it is a gift to the world, because it actually works. When I started taking it many years ago, I had a rapidly growing bald spot and receding hairline. Now I am proud to say that that bald spot is the exact same size. What product keeps its promises? I am just as bald as I was seven years ago. It’s a Christmas miracle that must be respected and honored.
— Judd Apatow, Writer, Comedian, and Director
The perfect portable speaker is an essential item in any house, especially if more is less. And the Tivoli PAL BT radio is definitely giving both. It’s audio ambidextrous, doubling as both an analog radio and a Bluetooth speaker, with a crisp sound. And it’s fun! The retro-radio look comes in customizable popping colors. It’s also a sturdy workhorse that is weather-resistant and holds a charge for what seems like forever (okay, I think technically 12 hours). Reliable, stylish, functional, the PAL BT is a gift built to last in a time when our world is full of disposables.
— Claudine Ebeid, Executive Producer, Audio
A subscription may be a small thing to unwrap; it is a wonderful thing to receive for the rest of the year. Pick a small literary journal from your mom’s hometown, or from where your father-in-law attended college. The muted response on Christmas morning will turn into a year’s worth of calls or texts as each issue delivers unexpected stories, poems, essays, and art that feel as though you picked them out personally.
— Evan McMurry, Senior Editor
It won’t get you any points for romance or sentimentality, but a gift card to 1Password or another password manager can reduce the stress of being a human being online in 2024—and that’s perhaps the nicest thing you can do for a friend or loved one. These services are widely (and rightly) recommended for the security they can bring to your online accounts, but for me, the real benefit has been the relief of having to remember just one single password. I appreciate this every time I have to log in to order takeout, see my bank statement, or view a message sent to me by a doctor via some arcane medical portal. And it’s also taken the pain out of signing up for any other new service or site—no need to create a new password and keep track of it, ever again.
— Rebecca J. Rosen, Senior Editor
For people who covet physical objects—to the point where they either cannot or should not keep collecting them—I like to go in the opposite direction, with something more experiential: two tickets to a show (ideally for the both of us to go together). Either I pick the show to surprise them, or I hand them my credit card and let them decide. Not only does this gift come with the built-in promise of making a memory; it also leaves no tangible trace behind—that is, unless they can’t help but swing by the merch stand.
— Allegra Frank, Senior Editor
One Good Scraper
Courtesy of August Thomsen Corp.
A nice, sturdy bench scraper: Sure, you can (and will) use this for its intended purposes—scooping up chopped vegetables, slicing up bread dough, etc. But you’ll find yourself using it for so much more (in my case: scraping up the inevitable post-dinner mess from the splat mat under my kid’s high chair).
— Dan Fallon, Senior Editor
I take my six-step beauty routine very seriously. My favorite part is always, always applying La Mer’s Moisturizing Soft Cream. I love using the tiny spatula to spread the cream all over my face, watching it melt into my skin. And honestly, when I apply these luxurious products, I feel like I’m the ultimate beauty snob.
— Jenisha Watts, Senior Editor
My husband and I received four of these bowls as a wedding gift last year, and they haven’t seen the inside of a cabinet yet: They’re in such constant rotation in our household, and so nice to look at, that as soon as we take them out of the dishwasher we just put them right back in a (very pretty) stack on the counter to be used again the next day. The handmade ceramic dishes come in dozens of colors and patterns—I recommend mixing and matching—and are the perfect size for your morning bowl of cereal or yogurt.
— Amy Weiss-Meyer, Senior Editor
The coffee lovers in your life might swear by their French press or daily Starbucks, but that’s only because they haven’t experienced the sweet, sweet satisfaction of making themselves that perfect cappuccino in the morning. This gift isn’t just about better coffee (although trust me, it’s so much better). It’s about introducing a ritual of slowness, simplicity, and concerted attention in a world that too often pulls us toward the very opposite. Think: all the benefits of meditation but infinitely more delicious (and at a fraction of the price of most espresso machines!).
— Rogé Karma, Staff Writer
Visit almost any beach in North Carolina, where I live, and you’ll see what looks like a Christo and Jeanne-Claude installation of two-tone blue flags stretching down the sand. They’re called Shibumi Shades, and they are the state’s best export since Rhiannon Giddens. Real talk: I found them dumb and gimmicky and doubted that they worked right up until we received one as a gift. They’re really light, much simpler to put up than any other beach shelter, and produce a surprisingly large shade area in even gentle breeze.
— David A. Graham, Staff Writer
In a world of junky wireless boom boxes with pointless flashing lights and walkie-talkie-level sound quality, this unassuming, palm-sized pellet is a quiet—but loud—miracle. For years, I’ve brought one along on beach trips, bike rides, and various other occasions that I suspected might suffer from a dearth of Charli XCX. Waterproof, sand-resistant, and capable of producing a rich roar of sound, the speaker has only one bit of filigree—a stretchy strap for fastening to tree branches. The durability is part of the fun: I love knowing that a potential party is always bumping around at the bottom of my backpack.
— Spencer Kornhaber, Staff Writer
Spend time walking around any city and you’ll likely see one of these so-called Millennial Birkin slung across the body of someone Out and About Doing Stuff. The Uniqlo round mini shoulder bag—reasonably priced, modestly designed, solidly constructed—is a handy gift for a person of any generation, a reminder that “fashion can be affordable without being disposable,” Gillian B. White wrote in 2019. Uniqlo made its founder, Tadashi Yanai, the richest man in Japan; its parent company is one of the largest apparel retailers in the world. Yet in the United States, the brick-and-mortars mostly exist in coastal cities. You may just have to order online.
— Shan Wang, Programming Director
Going to the grocery store and looking at the protein-added products is the equivalent of having a closet full of clothes and absolutely nothing to wear. Yes, there are about a million options, but at best, they don’t want to make you throw up, and at worst, well. I’d given up until a restaurateur I respect shared that he’d found a gem: Håkan Chocolatier protein bars, made by a chocolate company in upstate New York. At $73 for a box of 12, the bars do not come cheap. When I tried one of the biscoff-flavored ones, I was astonished. It truly did taste like a regular, craveable, eat-when-high chocolate; loaded with quinoa, it had the effect of a fancy Crunch Bar. They don’t feel “healthy,” per se, but they’re what I want to pack the next time I go on a hiking excursion.
— Serena Dai, Senior Editor
Okay, yes, I’m recommending an app. But I’m really recommending the gift of adventurous whimsy. Road-trippers, whether you give the standard app or a gift-friendly premium version, will delight any road-trip enthusiast in your life. Much more detailed and user-friendly than a standard map service (with routes and stops customizable by budget, vehicle type, and much more), the app is great for trip planning. But its real magic is its on-the-road serendipity. As you travel, route maps update with all of the attractions that beckon nearby, whether arts venues or natural wonders or quirky cultural spots. Wax museums? Waterfalls? A house made of newspapers? The app will keep finding new proof that, in road-tripping as in so much else, the journey is the destination.
— Megan Garber, Staff Writer
Traditionally, people think of the water-bladder backpack for long hikes and cycling rides. I think of my Osprey when I think of a road trip—quality time on an extended drive with my partner, my bestie, my ride-or-dies. Going on a road trip, enclosed with nothing to do but yap, is an underrated way to spend leisure time. The only issue is refreshing on water, which the backpack solves. The water reservoir holds more than double what the classic Stanley cup fits, and the long straw means even the driver can sip without much trouble. And maybe this is gauche, but I could also see hydration-obsessed Americans carrying one around their travels in European cities. Hiking backpacks: not just for hikers!
— Serena Dai, Senior Editor
If you’re hoping to see North America’s tallest mountain, there’s a roughly 70 percent chance you won’t; Denali is often shrouded in cloud cover partially or fully obfuscating the mammoth mountain. But even if you don’t join the “30 percent club,” as locals call it, you have a 100 percent surefire way to make the trip to the far-flung destination worth the journey. Alaska Railroad’s Denali Star Train runs daily in the summer, from Anchorage to Fairbanks, with a stop at Denali National Park. The glass-domed ceilings in parts of the train allow for panoramic views of the Alaskan countryside, and even an opportunity to glimpse the elusive peak.
— Andrea Valdez, Managing Editor
I love backpacking but hate sleeping in a tent because I’m almost always too warm. A few years ago, I started experimenting with hammock camping, then woke up to a midnight thunderstorm and had to duck into a tent where two other people were already sleeping. Never again! ENO sells a rain tarp that covers its hammocks. I use it with my favorite old hammock to sleep outside while staying dry and cool.
— Rachel Gutman-Wei, Supervisory Senior Associate Editor
We live in a time of rich and varied mass-market decorative goods. They’re delightful but stamped out, assembly-line style. Generative AI is making things even weirder. All of that means now is a great time to give original art—pieces created uniquely by a human and sold as singular works or small editions. You can find these in local galleries, but you can also buy them online—on Etsy, on eBay, or directly from the artists. An example: Brandon Bird was one of the earliest painters creating fine-art mash-ups of pop-culture figures. He sells signed prints and original drawings and oil paintings of Law & Order characters, Transformers, the exteriors of Sears stores, and more at extremely affordable prices.
— Ian Bogost, Contributing Writer
If, like me, you love museums, love coffee-table books, and loathe the systemic erasure of women from the Western cultural canon, then this gift is for you. In 2015, Katy Hessel went to an art fair, only to slowly realize that, “out of the thousands of artworks before me, not a single one was by a woman.” This was by no means unusual, given that approximately 87 percent of artworks in American museums were made by men, and most of us struggle to name even three female artists off the top of our head. And yet all this time, women have been making work quietly in the shadows. The Story of Art Without Men is Hessel’s attempt to give them their due, documenting the pioneers, Renaissance women, portraitists, and photographers whose work is only now starting to get the attention it’s long deserved.
— Sophie Gilbert, Staff Writer
These prints from Aperture are perfect for someone with an interest in art and photography, a hobbyist, or a friend starting an art collection. Aperture’s limited-edition-print program offers museum-quality pieces from incredible photographers including Michael Wolf, Nico Krijno, and An-My Lê—ready to hang and impress fellow art lovers. Proceeds support both the artists and Aperture’s educational initiatives, exhibitions, and public programming. Whether your friend is into abstract or fashion-focused or documentary photography, you’ll find something for them here.
— Lucy Murray Willis, Photo Editor
A recommendation from my own personal wish list: Kim Mintz is one of my favorite working artists; her paintings remind me of fantasies I had as a little girl, delicate sweetness and magic. But there’s a striking, eerie edge to Mintz’s work that lends it an otherworldly aura (you’ll dream of celestial goddesses weeping starlight). If your style is dreamy and unabashedly feminine, you’ll appreciate her oeuvre.
— Elizabeth Bruenig, Staff Writer
As the saying goes, sometimes good things come in small packages. Such is the case with Elisa Wikey’s Tiny Framed Things, a series of whimsical art prints that will, as promised, “woo and delight even the curmudgeoniest of mudgeons.” On offer are dozens of diminutive illustrations, such as a teeny tardigrade and an elfin elephant.
— Andrea Valdez, Managing Editor
I’ve been trying to incorporate more functional art and objects into my home recently, and one thing that has really made a world of difference in my home office is my new Akari light-sculpture fixture, which immediately transformed the space. These lamps and fixtures are originally designed by the artist and architect Isamu Noguchi using Japanese Gifu lanterns as inspiration.
— Vann R. Newkirk II, Senior Editor
Cold rain is unpleasant. Cold rain on vacation is more unpleasant. Cold rain on vacation when you don’t have rain gear: more unpleasant still. Under these conditions, I convinced myself that spending a few hundred dollars on a Stutterheim raincoat was actually rational. And, actually, I don’t regret my purchase. It’s designed by Swedes, who I suppose have no choice but to know a thing or two about dressing for the weather. In this raincoat, precipitation means nothing to me. It’s long; it’s actually waterproof rather than merely water resistant; it makes me look and feel like a fisherman. Does someone in your life want to look and feel like a fisherman? This coat’s for them.
— Juliet Lapidos, Deputy Editor
I recently had a child, which means that my life is joyous and meaningful in one big way but inconvenient and painful in a million other ways. One thing that has helped: these pillowy slippers I bought off of Amazon. The brand I have is Joomra, but you can buy any of the similar ones that sound like someone threw some Scrabble tiles in the air. These puppies cradle your soles and massage your arches. They cushion your footfalls as you run up and down the stairs at 3 a.m. to get the other kind of bottle, because the baby doesn’t like that one kind. They will probably fall apart after a few months, just like your sleep-training plans, but they’re cheap, so it doesn’t really matter. Treat your feet and get these.
— Olga Khazan, Staff Writer
Apparently they are called “joggers.” I’ve jogged in them only once—down the driveway to get the Sunday paper. They are Sunday-paper sweatpants. You are not allowed to wear them anywhere but in your room. You are absolutely not allowed to take them off. They are not multipurpose; they do not belong on casual Fridays or work-from-home Tuesdays. If you try to work in them, they will disappear. They are skinny jeans made out of marshmallows. Their elastic is sourced from space materials and they will live forever, just like the avocado stain from your nine-month-old that has been firmly emblazoned on the butt.
— Walt Hunter, Contributing Editor
Packing efficiently makes travel so much less stressful. Although packing cubes might not be the most glamorous present, they certainly are one of the most useful. (For maximum compression, buy the kind with double zips.) If your gift recipient travels a lot for work, then a travel steamer will stop them from having to rely on hotel irons to remove creases from businesswear.
— Helen Lewis, Staff Writer
When my in-laws first gave my husband and me this pot, we thought it was silly. Then we used it to fry pork chops and spring rolls and sufganiyot and became true believers. This little workhorse is great for small spaces because it’s easy to store and easy to clean, and because it keeps oil from splattering all over undersize kitchens.
— Rachel Gutman-Wei, Supervisory Senior Associate Editor
Do their knees hurt? Healing someone’s achy feet or knees is a high form of care. Please give your loved ones these Oofos sandals to wear around the house, or in public if their commitment to style is weaker than their commitment to comfort. Perhaps they look like they could spring someone into orbit, but bouncing around space isn’t hard on your knees, I bet. They’re called “recovery sandals” and are effective if you need to recover from things like walking or standing (but also useful after feats of fitness!). I recommend sizing down instead of sizing up.
— Bhumika Tharoor, Managing Editor
This is for the Great British Bake Off lover in your life, and if there isn’t one, get some friends who know how to eat treats and relax! Tom Hovey, the illustrator who cooks up the darling little illustrations that pop up on the show to whet your appetite, is selling them. Who doesn’t want to gaze at a hand-raised pie or a “kneadapolitan” sculpture forever? Import the show’s deliciously calm vibes onto your walls!
— Hanna Rosin, Senior Editor
My mother, born and raised in Italy, bought me one of these while I was in college, and I’ve been using it ever since. The pot’s oval size can hold longer pasta shapes in their entirety, and the lid saves you the cabinet space needed to store a colander. Just remember to save some cooking water!
— Matteo Wong, Staff Writer
The purpose of a gift, in my view, is to give someone something they actually want. And everybody—everybody—always needs socks. Pick high-quality wool or even cashmere socks in sensible earth tones; maybe knee socks for women. Laugh all you want at this banal idea, but remember: No one will ever secretly take them back to the store or stuff them in the back of a closet.
— Anne Applebaum, Staff Writer
A Child’s Book of Art: Great Pictures, First Words
Courtesy of Dorling Kindersley Publishing
For me, a great way to bridge a generation gap when gift giving is to hunt down a used book, now out of print, that I’ve loved. I’m doubly happy if it’s one that I loved reading with my kids—a present for both young and old. In our family, we pored over A Child’s Book of Art: Great Pictures, First Words. Selected by Lucy Micklethwait, the art from museums around the world is stunning, and arranged with alluring beauty and wit. My kids still recall their delight over the 17th-century Dutch painting titled The Sense of Smell (one of several depictions of the “Five Senses”), showing a toddler’s bare rear end being wiped. And yes, looking at paintings still gives them real pleasure.
— Ann Hulbert, Literary Editor
“Skin-care, if you’re doing it right, means claiming a moment of tenderness in an abrasive world,” Paris Hilton wrote in her memoir last year. I’m constantly torn between my cynicism about the beauty-industrial complex and everything it does to women, and my gullible hope that a product out there will make me look and feel somehow … better. In the spirit of the season, I’m leaning toward the tenderness argument with this recommendation. Plus, if there’s one thing that brings even Zoomers and Boomers together right now, it’s the promise of overpriced face cream in an aesthetically pleasing box. This La Mer advent calendar has 12 days of antiaging gifts for either the seasoned beauty veteran in your life or the TikTok-tutored teenager with ludicrously expensive taste—or both.
— Sophie Gilbert, Staff Writer
Here’s what you want from your citrus juicer: easily produced juice, the simplest cleanup imaginable, and styling that doesn’t look like a clunky collab between a wood chipper and a kitchen appliance. Smeg has delivered—quite beautifully (and it takes just 36 seconds to clean—I timed it). Should you give this to anyone with a toddler (speaking again from experience), you’re actually giving them two presents: juice and occupied little hands, because it’s so easy to use. What better way to show your loved ones how much you care than by helping them keep scurvy at bay with elegant Italian design?
— Bhumika Tharoor, Managing Editor
“The hard part for us avant-garde post-modern artists is deciding whether or not to embrace commercialism,” 6-year-old Calvin admits to his best friend (and stuffed tiger), Hobbes. As an adult, I laugh at the comic strip’s punch line: “Oh, what the heck. I’ll do it,” says the child artist who works mostly in snow sculpture and sidewalk chalk. As a kid, grabbing skinny Calvin and Hobbes compilations off my parents’ bookshelves, I laughed just as hard, probably because I had a firm grasp of only about two-thirds of the funny-sounding words in the panels. The marriage of high and low, young and old, is what makes Bill Watterson’s strip work. An elementary schooler and his imaginary friend protest unfair bedtimes, play outside, and try to avoid eating vegetables … by citing unfavorable poll numbers for the elected position of “Dad,” acting out noirish private-eye fantasies, and ranting verbosely about the contemporary art world. When it’s time for my kids to read these strips, they’ll be pulling these heftier versions off the shelf.
— Emma Sarappo, Associate Editor
Field of Dreams—it’s a movie about fathers and sons, men and their heroes, seeing ghosts, plowing under your corn and freaking everyone out. Now a bunch of current and former baseball players are selling whiskey that is supposedly made from that very corn. (Presumably this just means corn from that general area of Iowa.) The fun part is that opening each bottle is kind of like opening a pack of baseball cards—the wooden cap has a famous baseball player carved into it and which player it is will be a little surprise. The other fun part is that it’s whiskey.
— Kaitlyn Tiffany, Staff Writer
I’ve always had fun playing board games and video games with my kids over the years, but so-called couch co-op video games have given us some of our best experiences. One recent game really stands out as far as creativity, gameplay, cooperative puzzle solving, and just plain fun: It Takes Two, available on several consoles and PC. You play as a mother and father trapped in a surreal world, trying to escape and rescue their relationship with each other and with their daughter. It was a real hit during one of our last family get-togethers—fun to both play and watch.
— Alan Taylor, Senior Editor
The Criterion Channel is the best streaming service for movies that are not only suitable for everyone but also genuinely timeless. Easy cross-generational entry points: PlayTime, The 400 Blows, The Graduate, and A Hard Day’s Night. Or, if no kids are around, you can go a little more adult—Frances Ha or A Woman Under the Influence, or try something wacky, such as House (Hausu).
— Allegra Frank, Senior Editor
Not every book gets read more than once, but in my house, the ones that do begin to accumulate dog ears, marginalia, stains, and beaten corners until their spines finally crack and split. When a favorite title has earned that distinction, it’s worth purchasing in a beautiful, thoughtfully designed hardcover edition that can stand up to further wear—something like the Penguin Vitae series from Penguin Classics, or an omnibus from Library of America. This is an old-fashioned but flawless gift: More than a decade after I first ripped my paperback volume of Philip Pullman’s His Dark Materials trilogy in half, its Everyman’s Library hardcover successor, with a ribbon bookmark sewn in, awaits my next visit.
— Emma Sarappo, Associate Editor
Allen Dulles, the former CIA director who served on the Warren Commission to investigate the assassination of President John F. Kennedy, thought it would be pointless to release to the public the 26 volumes of hearings and exhibits the commission compiled. “Nobody reads,” he said. “Don’t believe people read in this country.” But the government put them out anyway, in a set that weighs 54 pounds and contains more than 16,000 pages. New copies were mostly purchased by libraries and colleges; reportedly fewer than 6,000 sets were ever made. That means they’re rare. If you know someone who would be offended by Dulles’s characterization of the dull American public … maybe they would like one! They make for wild reading, and 54 pounds is a hilarious weight for a present.
— Kaitlyn Tiffany, Staff Writer
Although a vintage Hanuman book is sometimes hard to get your hands on, little is more inspiring than receiving one. It almost doesn’t matter whether the author was Patti Smith or Candy Darling—these letterpress books were the brainchild of the art critic Raymond Foye and the artist Francesco Clemente. Printed in India and distributed from the Chelsea Hotel for about $5 apiece in the ’80s, each volume was edited and designed by the pair. They are more than books; they are little objects of art that transport you back to the old world of analog, New York cool.
— Xochitl Gonzalez, Staff Writer
This monthly membership is perfect for a friend who’s read everything, or a father-in-law who likes to talk with you about books. Archipelago Books publishes fiction, poetry, and other genres in translation, with a genuinely global outlook. One month you might get the Italian postmodernist Antonio Tabucchi’s little masterpiece For Isabel: A Mandala; the next month, a new translation of Aimé Césaire’s Return to My Native Land. And if the books start piling up, the gorgeous square covers will tempt you to take a mental-health day during a slow week in February to work through the backlog.
— Walt Hunter, Contributing Editor
Recently my block in Brooklyn wanted to honor the memory of one of our neighbors who died, and we got one of these little lending libraries. It’s been a wonderful addition to our street, and it would make a perfect gift for someone in your life who accumulates books and is looking to share. The libraries, which are available in different sizes and colors, come already built. You just need to stake them in the ground, which is not hard, and you have an instant focal point for your community—plus an endless source of free reading material.
— Gal Beckerman, Staff Writer
I like to read before bed, often much later than my wife does. A few years ago, this presented itself as a problem. See, I had to keep the lights on. She wanted the lights off. This is not the stuff of serious marital strife, but still, I needed a solution. Enter this wonderful little book light. It bends to different angles. It has a few brightness modes. It’s perfect for the reader in your life who doesn’t want to annoy their partner.
— Gal Beckerman, Staff Writer
Everyone needs a book stand (though few know that they do). The High Tide book stand is beautiful, affordable, and impressively engineered to hold your books open so you can read hands-free (great for reading while you eat) or (and this is how I use mine) to sit your books upright, face-out on a shelf or bookcase, thereby transforming these books and their covers into artworks.
— Peter Mendelsund, Creative Director
Buying a nice flip phone is a lot harder these days than most people might realize. The options at your local mall are likely to be flimsy, ugly, unsatisfying. The best flip phone you can buy right now for someone who might actually really enjoy (or be in dire need of) the throwback lifestyle is the CAT S22 Flip Phone, which was designed for construction workers and the like. It’s heavy in the hand; it has that satisfying “thwack” when you open it; you can drop it from six feet up; supposedly you can even drop it in bleach. And it looks cool—very “retro,” “Y2K,” etc.
— Kaitlyn Tiffany, Staff Writer
The rise of smartphones ushered in a new camera age, a visually heady era when everyone became their own personal photographer. Predictably, though, people became disillusioned with their overflowing, memory-hogging camera rolls, sparking a trendy, retro-inspired instant-camera comeback in the 2010s. But both digital and instant cameras serve our modern-day impulse for immediate gratification. People looking to dampen their digital desires should consider the power of the disposable camera. Buy a Fujifilm QuickSnap Flash 400, take care in framing the limited number of exposures, and wait patiently for a local photo lab to develop the images.
— Andrea Valdez, Managing Editor
I know, I know. It really is harder to read books these days. My phone has done a number on my attention span, and there are always just countless distractions. But one thing I’ve found helpful in focusing and really making a pleasant reading experience is lighting candles. I love a unique candle, and one of my favorites these days is the Night Blooming Jasmine & Damask Rose candle from Flamingo Estate. It’s unique, it’s complex, it’s transportive—and, most important, it helps me relax into a good reading session.
— Vann R. Newkirk II, Senior Editor
After growing up immersed in my father’s stories of adventure, I’ve recently begun sifting through his old journals. Each page reveals delicate, hand-drawn maps and meticulous notes in fine ballpoint pen, capturing the beauty he witnessed. His ability to document the world with such care deeply influenced my own love for photography and storytelling. Today, I carry on that tradition, always traveling with a pen and notebook. For those who embrace exploration, it’s a way to document their journey—a notebook and pen are essential for capturing fleeting moments and reflections on the road.
— Lucy Murray Willis, Photo Editor
Present these beauties early in the gift-giving season to allow time for your lucky friends to plant them—because there’s nothing a hardcore scroller needs more than a trip outside.
— Elizabeth Bruenig, Staff Writer
I am a person who has been blessed (or cursed) with a strong nose, so scented candles are a mainstay in our house. For most rooms, we default to florals or occasional seasonal scents. But in my home office, where I read and write, I’ve long used this Threshold candle from Target. Technically, the scent is “leather and embers,” but it conjures so much more. It smells like tweed and chunky wool cardigans and the color burgundy; like reading Thoreau by firelight; like a celebratory cigar after a quail hunt. It is sophisticated and musky and, dare I say, writerly? And best of all, it costs 12 bucks.
— McKay Coppins, Staff Writer
This vase from the MoMA Design Store is created to refract beauty from its surroundings (it also has the perfect name—who wouldn’t want to receive an “irregular” gift?). It’s built to catch the light of what’s within it, but also the light below and around it. You can put a candle in, or a single-stem flower. Focus on a different bit of glass each day and you’ll be surprised that something relatively small can seem to open up new worlds.
— Isabel Fattal, Senior Editor
Sipping a cup of chai can be a social act or a quiet and contemplative one; it’s the perfect accomplice to the human condition. So thankfully, Kolkata Chai Co.’s delicious masala-chai mix is simple to use (and also can be dairy-free!). Just the aroma makes obvious how this venerable beverage—its milky ginger, cardamom, cinnamon, black-tea goodness—has awoken and soothed approximately a quarter of humanity across many divides. Sometimes life stirs and strains us, but in those moments, at least there is chai. Give this hug in a cup—but never say “chai tea.”
— Bhumika Tharoor, Managing Editor
Once you get a hot-air popcorn maker, microwaveable popcorn will seem unnecessarily demure, shrouding its wondrous transformations in starchy brown paper. A popcorn maker is a pre-movie show of its own: In an elaborate trick, you can watch each kernel molt into its new white, fluffy body to the soundtrack of a private firework show. You can also dress your treat up in a bespoke seasoning, with none of microwavable popcorn’s random ingredients. Go wild! Throw some sesame oil or oregano into that mix.
— Valerie Trapp, Assistant Editor
I know, I know: The idea of giving someone you love an axe could seem a little … worryingly ambiguous. Shades of Jack Nicholson going through the door in The Shining. Or freighted with passive aggression: Darling, let’s bury the hatchet—in your head! But hear me out. A nice axe is a highly practical yet quintessentially American tool that no household should be without. Kindling? No problem. Camping trip? You’ve got it. And you’ll never wear it out, so think of an axe as down payment on a family heirloom.
— Matt Seaton, Senior Editor
For all its good PR, journaling can be surprisingly opaque—where do you actually begin? Many guided journals emphasize one core value, such as gratitude. But journaling doesn’t have to be a record of what already is. The Human Being Journal by Mahara Mindfulness, a company founded in the chaos of early 2020, takes a more expansive approach to its structure: Low-commitment monthly prompts tied to categories such as “relationships” and “creativity and passion” give journalers the tools to capture fuller versions of themselves—as they are now and as they want to be.
— Hannah Giorgis, Staff Writer
The best thing I’ve purchased in the past few years—and maybe ever?—is my JBL Xtreme wireless speaker. It’s roughly the size of a football and just as durable. The audio quality is phenomenal. It’s waterproof. And it gets loud enough to either disturb your neighbors or helpfully signal to them that it’s time to come over and hang out. I bought a strap for mine and have been known to carry it with me everywhere—to the playground, pool, beach, backyard, and any other occasion that demands a great playlist and some dancing, which is basically every occasion, as far as I’m concerned.
— Adrienne LaFrance, Executive Editor
For all artists, doodlers, planners, to-do listers, and anybody who might ever use a pencil, this is the perfect sharpener: The first hole shaves the wood, and the second sharpens the graphite, leading to razor-sharp tips that never break. (If you’re looking for something more substantial, consider the Blackwing Rustic Box, which contains a two-step sharpener and 12 Blackwing pencils—themselves perhaps the perfect drawing pencil—in a lovely wooden box.)
— Matteo Wong, Staff Writer
