by | Nov 22, 2024 | The Atlantic
Out goes a Florida man, in comes a Florida woman. Hours after Matt Gaetz, Donald Trump’s pick for attorney general, withdrew from consideration, the president-elect last night announced that he will nominate Pam Bondi to lead the Justice Department.
Bondi, a former attorney general of Florida, is widely viewed as a more serious and confirmable pick, and although that is partly a statement of what a ridiculous choice Gaetz was, it also shows how far expectations—and standards—have been lowered since the start of the first Trump administration. In 2017, Bondi was passed over for an administration role for fear she was too scandal-tainted. This time around, she’s the safe, acceptable fallback choice.
If Bondi’s name means anything to you, you’re probably either a Floridian or a real Trump-news obsessive. After a stint as a local prosecutor, Bondi was elected as Florida attorney general in 2010 and served two terms. She left that office in 2019 and worked on Trump’s defense teams for both of his impeachment trials. Bondi also worked as a lobbyist in that period, with clients including the Qatari government, Amazon, and Uber. (You really don’t hear much about “draining the swamp” these days.) She also joined the America First Policy Institute, a Trump-aligned nonprofit.
[David A. Graham: Trump’s first defeat]
Bondi’s highest-profile connection to Trump began in 2013, during her first term as Florida attorney general. Several state attorneys general had probed Trump University, a souped-up real-estate seminar suspected of advertising itself with fraudulent claims. In September 2013, Bondi announced that she was considering joining a lawsuit in New York. Within days, Trump’s personal putative charity, the Trump Foundation, had written a $25,000 check to And Justice for All, a group supporting her reelection—a donation that Bondi had personally solicited several weeks earlier. Bondi then declined to join the suit. (Bondi denies that the payment affected her decision.)
In the kaleidoscopic way of Trumplandia, the foundation itself was a kind of scam; it was later forced to shut down, and Trump admitted to 19 violations, including self-dealing. The Trump Foundation was not legally permitted to make political donations, and instead of reporting the pro-Bondi donation as such, it reported it as a gift to Justice for All, a similarly named nonprofit in Kansas. After The Washington Post uncovered the details, a Trump aide insisted that the mistake was innocent, but the IRS fined Trump $2,500.
When Trump won the presidency in 2016, Bondi was widely expected to land a job in it. In January 2017, Bloomberg even reported that an appointment was imminent, but nothing ever materialized—apparently because Trump staffers were concerned that questions about the donation would make confirmation hearings difficult and damaging. How quaint—now she’s the person Trump is relying on to sail through confirmation. And given the scale of Gaetz’s problems, the weaknesses of other Cabinet nominees, and the fatigue among the press and populace, that seems likely to work.
She is similar in this way to John Ratcliffe, whom Trump last week nominated to lead the CIA. During Trump’s first term, in 2019, he nominated Ratcliffe to be director of national intelligence, a job that helps coordinate all U.S. intelligence agencies. Ratcliffe was forced to withdraw once it was clear that the Senate wouldn’t confirm him, because he had no real qualifications for the job, and had exaggerated what little he did have. (I wrote at the time that Ratcliffe “would have been the least qualified DNI in the position’s short history,” but the current nominee for that post, Tulsi Gabbard, gives him a run for his money.) A year later, Trump nominated him again, and this time the Senate sighed heavily and confirmed him, despite concerns that he would improperly politicize the job. This is precisely what he did: In the last weeks of the 2020 campaign, Ratcliffe disclosed unverified information about the 2016 election, which career officials worried was disinformation, in a blatant attempt to boost Trump’s reelection.
[Read: The art of the swindle]
And yet when Trump announced Ratcliffe’s nomination this time around, it was met with something between a shrug and relief. After all, compared with Gaetz and Gabbard, here was a guy with actual experience in his appointed subject and in the executive branch! Trump has managed to move the goalposts so far, they’re in the budget parking lot.
Pete Hegseth, his nominee to lead the Defense Department, fits the same pattern. He was considered to lead the Department of Veterans Affairs in the first Trump administration, but not chosen. Now he’s been picked to lead an even more important and sprawling bureaucracy, though the only new qualifications he’s picked up in the ensuing years are three vitriolic books, many hours on Fox, and dismissal from guarding Joe Biden’s inauguration. (Hegseth’s nomination seems rickety after revelations of a sexual-assault accusation, but he may yet make it through.)
If confirmed, Bondi will likely be a more effective and reasonable attorney general than Gaetz. She is not driven by personal grievance in the way he seems to be, and she has experience as both a prosecutor and a state attorney general. Like Gaetz, however, she is unlikely to defend the independence of the Justice Department from presidential interference. In addition to her past loyalty, she backed Trump’s bogus claims of election fraud in 2020. Trump has also already named three of his personal criminal-defense attorneys to top DOJ positions. At this stage, perhaps less bad news is the best anyone can desire, but none of this is good.
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by | Nov 22, 2024 | The Atlantic
Christmas decorations in England, long-term typhoon damage in the Philippines, a virtual Taekwondo championship in Singapore, a mummified saber-toothed tiger cub in Russia, the Miss Universe competition in Mexico, thick fog in northern China, a new volcanic eruption in Iceland, and much more
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by | Nov 22, 2024 | The Atlantic
This past summer, a U.S. district court declared Google a monopolist. On Wednesday, the Department of Justice filed its proposed remedy. This plan—the government’s “proposed final judgment,” or PFJ—must be approved by the judge who is overseeing the case. But it outlines changes the government believes would be sufficient to loosen Google’s grip on the search market.
Notably, the DOJ has proposed that Google sell off its Chrome web browser—which currently accounts for about two-thirds of the browser market—and stay out of that business for five years. That proposal may seem righteous and effective, and stripping Google of its browser does make the government look bold. The proposal also seems to right a cosmic wrong from more than two decades ago, when the DOJ tried (and failed) to get Microsoft to unbundle its own Internet Explorer browser during a prior antitrust enforcement. This time around, the government’s lawyers insist that wresting Chrome from Google’s mitts is necessary to prevent Google from setting a default search engine for the majority of internet surfers, and pushing those same people to other Google products too. (By the same logic, the PFJ prevents Google from paying rivals such as Apple for default-search placement.)
This is a mistake. Google’s control of Chrome has surely benefited its market position and its bottom line. But Chrome might remain a boon for Google even if it’s under outside ownership. Instead, why not force Google to strip Chrome of its Google-promoting features, and let the browser be a burden rather than a tool for market domination?
In August, I argued that declaring Google a monopoly might not matter, because the company had already won the search wars. Searching the web effectively via text typed into input boxes was Google’s first and perhaps only innovation; the competitors that arose—DuckDuckGo, Bing, and so on—offered their own takes on Googling, which became the generic term for searching the web. People returned to Google because they wanted to, not just because the company had strong-armed them.
[Read: Google already won]
Google did incentivize competitors to maintain that status quo. Mozilla’s Firefox browser offers a case study. The foundation’s most recent annual report lists $510 million in royalty revenue for 2022, some of which surely comes from Google in the form of referral fees for Google searches. The PFJ appears to prohibit these kinds of payments, and whatever revenue they generate for Mozilla. If those are off the table, browser companies may end up letting users choose their own default search service. But the results could end up looking very much the same: People who like and are familiar with Google might just end up choosing it again.
Google built the Chrome browser in part to steer web users to its services—Search (and the ads it serves), Gmail, Google Docs, and so forth. Search was, of course, the most important of these. (Chrome was the first major browser to integrate web-search functionality directly into the address bar, a design known as the omnibox.) But over time, other Google features have become more and more entwined with Chrome’s operation. When I opened my Chrome browser in order to write this article, it presented me with a user-profile screen, strongly encouraging me to log in to my Google account, which gives Google insights into what I do online. That facility also offers me seamless access to Google Docs and Gmail, because I am already logged in.
Given that Chrome accounts for so much of the web-browser market, a more effective way to quash Google’s bad tendencies might involve sabotaging its browser rather than selling it off. Instead of making Google divest Chrome, the DOJ could have it keep the browser running (and secure) while stripping it of all the features that make Google services ready to hand. Killing the omnibox would be the boldest of these acts, because search, which basically means Googling, would no longer be presented as the default act on the web. Likewise, removing the tight Google-account integration and associated benefits for Google’s services and data collection would frustrate the company’s monopoly more effectively than a spun-off browser ever could.
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by | Nov 22, 2024 | The Atlantic
This is an edition of Time-Travel Thursdays, a journey through The Atlantic’s archives to contextualize the present, surface delightful treasures, and examine the American idea.
I love a good bean: tossed with vinaigrette in a salad, spooned over pasta, served on a plate with rice and corn. The bean is a powerful little food, all the more for its shapeshifting capacities. Many people can appreciate that these legumes are cheap and healthy, but they still fall short of widespread adoration or even respect.
Yet, over the decades, Atlantic writers have turned to the bean’s revolutionary potential again and again. The humble bean, small, unglamorous, packed with protein, has been a source of inspiration for those seeking to remake the food system, fight climate change, and add some better flavors into American homes. In a 1975 article loftily titled “A Bean to Feed the World?” the historian Richard Rhodes made the case for centering the soybean in the American diet. “We continue to sing of amber waves of grain, not dusty pods of beans,” he bemoans in the opening line.
Noting that the soybean was, at the time, the No. 1 cash crop in the country, Rhodes argues that Americans should be eating it as a source of protein on its own, rather than feeding it to the farm animals that then became dinner. “Conversion of soybeans to food for humans is worth looking at,” he writes. (The soybean, a cousin of the lentil and black bean, has about 30 grams of protein per cup.) Alas, soybeans remain primarily the provenance of livestock today, with the exception of the small percentage used to make popular foods such as tofu.
In 2017, James Hamblin made the urgent climate case for replacing beef with legumes in Americans’ diets, given that cows are among the top agricultural sources of greenhouse gases worldwide and take up great swaths of arable land. Hamblin explained that by swapping beans for beef, the U.S. could “achieve somewhere between 46 and 74 percent of the reductions needed” to meet the 2020 greenhouse-gas-emission goals set out by President Barack Obama in 2009. (Americans have not wholesale rejected beef in favor of beans, but, in large part because the pandemic slowed travel and economic activity, we did end up meeting those climate goals.)
Part of the problem with beans is that they are not that attractive a food. In a 1992 article, the food writer Corby Kummer acknowledges the “insipid” nature of beans before walking readers through some ways to prepare tasty—and easily digestible—bean-based dishes. But for the horticultural writer Richardson Wright, the bean’s humility is what makes it heroic. During World War II, he wrote that “the coincidence of Saturday night and baked beans was of divine provenance, and with the ardor of the freshly converted, I insisted that we practice.” In a time of loss, a pot of beans—which he calls “farinaceous catechumens,” likening them to starchy bodies readied for baptism—can mean everything. The quasi-religious tone of his Proustian meditation on beans is moving; still, his dietary choice was borne out of desperation and limited rations.
The image of beans as a backup when you don’t have, or can’t afford, anything better has proven hard to shake. Even as vegetarian diets are on the rise and Americans recognize the environmental impact of beef, eating meat remains an intractable part of American life. For all the trendiness of brothy beans and Rancho Gordo subscriptions in recent years, many Americans still haven’t made legumes central to their diets. One estimate found that, as of 2019, the average American ate approximately 55 pounds of chicken a year compared with roughly 2.5 pounds of cooked black beans (American bean consumption is low compared to many other countries). Still, there are reasons to hope: Americans have embraced hummus, which is made of chickpeas. Chic New York restaurants are serving bean-based dishes. And a climate campaign with ties to the United Nations is pushing to double global bean consumption by 2028. Though the bean may not be the flashiest ingredient, it is persistent—and it may even shape a better world in its image.
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