The California Supreme Court is considering whether to grant a hearing for three elephants — Nolwazi, Amahle and Mabu — at the Fresno Chaffee Zoo. If granted, the hearing would determine whether these elephants are being unjustly detained, and whether they should be relocated to a sanctuary.
Elephants are sensitive, intelligent beings who feel joy and sorrow, have meaningful projects and relationships and often walk many miles per day in the wild. As a result, they tend to suffer in captive environments like zoos. When their freedom is restricted, they have an increased risk of developing joint disorders and damaged tusks. They also are more likely to experience boredom, depression and aggression.
Accordingly, the Nonhuman Rights Project, which submitted the petition, is urging the court to recognize that Nolwazi, Amahle and Mabu have a right to bodily liberty in a habeas corpus hearing, which can be used to determine whether their detention is lawful. Scholars in a wide range of fields, myself included, are submitting amicus letters to the court in support of the basic idea of elephant rights.
Why is it necessary to recognize elephant rights? Why not simply rely on existing welfare protections to prevent cruelty? When elephants are seen as lacking rights, we can protect them as “property” or as a matter of public interest. But such protections leave elephants vulnerable when their “owners” and the public are insufficiently concerned about them. By recognizing elephant rights, we can safeguard against abuse and neglect even when welfare protections are inadequate.
The idea of elephant rights is surprisingly minimal. When we say that elephants have rights, we are not necessarily saying that they have the same rights as us. (Among human beings, for example, infants have different rights than adults.) We also are not saying that they have duties. (Again, infants can have rights without duties.) Our claim is only that elephants can have rights that reflect their own interests and vulnerabilities.
Additionally, recognizing that elephants have a right to liberty does not necessarily mean releasing them into the wild; elephants, like humans, may not always be able to live independently. Instead, it simply means granting elephants as much freedom as possible for them. In the case of Nolwazi, Amahle and Mabu, that means being released to a sanctuary accredited by the Global Federation of Animal Sanctuaries.
Last year the Fresno Superior Court denied a similar petition for the elephants at the Fresno Chaffee Zoo because they are not being held in state custody, and the 5th District Court of Appeal denied a second petition. Now, the Nonhuman Rights Project is urging the California Supreme Court to decide that privately detained individuals, including elephants, can qualify for habeas relief too.
This case is not the first of its kind. The New York Court of Appeals recently considered a similar petition involving Happy, an elephant at the Bronx Zoo. In 2021, the court granted a hearing on Happy’s habeas claim, marking the first time that the highest court in an English-speaking jurisdiction allowed such a hearing for a nonhuman animal. But the court ultimately sided with the zoo.
Thus far, the rationalizations courts have used to reject elephant rights show little basis in logic or the law. For instance, the majority in the Happy case argued that you can have rights only if you have specific genes (why?) and only if you can have duties (again, what about infants?). They also suggested that you can access habeas relief only if you can live independently (once more: infants).
The majority in the Happy case also expressed concern about a slippery slope: If an animal in a zoo has the right to liberty, what about animals in farms and labs? And if those animals have that right, how can society still function? Perhaps a decision with this much disruptive potential is best made by legislatures.
However, as two dissenting judges noted, this buck-passing argument fails too. It might be ideal for legislatures to address this issue. But at present, few are willing to do so. In the meantime, the judiciary has a duty to assess each case before it on the merits. When a petitioner makes a credible allegation about an unjust detention, the relevant court should hear that case.
Moreover, if courts fear a slippery slope, the solution is not to ignore rights violations. Yes, when violations occur in large numbers, addressing them all might be disruptive. But to look the other way because of the scale of the problem would be to treat injustice, perversely, as too big to fail. Courts should instead make narrow rulings about particular violations, leaving the rest for another day.
To be sure, legislatures should address this issue too. Last month, Ojai became the first U.S. city to recognize legal rights for nonhuman animals when it passed an ordinance declaring that elephants have the right to liberty. Such legislation can work in tandem with, not replace, judicial attention to current unjust detentions.
The California Supreme Court needs to address the elephants in the room. However the judges decide this case, they should not refuse to hear it on the grounds that Nolwazi, Amahle and Mabu lack rights. Elephants, like humans, merit legal consideration for their own sake. Humans have both a right and a duty to give them their day in court.
Jeff Sebo is an associate professor of environmental studies, affiliated professor of bioethics, medical ethics, philosophy and law, and director of the animal studies master of arts program at New York University. His most recent book is “Saving Animals, Saving Ourselves.”
A case of locally acquired dengue, a virus transmitted by mosquitoes, was detected in Pasadena on Friday, according to the Pasadena Public Health Department.
The instance is “extremely rare,” officials said, with the afflicted person being the first known case in California among someone who had not recently traveled.
Symptoms of dengue can range from mild to severe and include fever, skin rash, headaches and muscle and joint pain, according to the U.S. Centers for Disease Control and Prevention. Severe cases can be life-threatening and require critical care. Most cases resolve within two to seven days.
In a statement, Pasadena epidemiologist Dr. Matthew Feaster said public health officials have been monitoring for mosquito-borne diseases such as dengue.
“Our work so far, in partnership with the Vector Control District, gives us confidence that this was likely an isolated incident and that there is very low risk of additional dengue exposure in Pasadena,” Feaster said.
Public health officials presume the victim, who is unidentified and said to be recovering, probably caught the disease from a mosquito that had bitten someone already infected with dengue. Dengue is rare in the United States but endemic to other countries and can be transmitted by travelers to areas where dengue is found.
In response to the case, public health officials have visited the neighborhood where the case was diagnosed to inform residents about preventing bites from Aedes aegypti, commonly known as the yellow fever mosquito, which transmits the disease and has seen a population boom in Southern California.
The San Gabriel Valley Mosquito and Vector Control District has also deployed traps and test samples, though they have yet to identify any specimens carrying dengue. Tests will continue for the next few weeks, Pasadena officials said.
Dengue has no vaccines to prevent or medicines to treat the disease. Care for dengue cases includes rest, drinking fluids and closely monitoring symptoms.
No one wants to appear before a judge as a criminal defendant. But court is a particularly inhospitable place for Donald Trump, who conceptualizes the value of truth only in terms of whether it is convenient to him. His approach to the world is paradigmatic of what the late philosopher Harry Frankfurt defined as bullshit: Trump doesn’t merely obscure the truth through strategic lies, but rather speaks “without any regard for how things really are.” This is at odds with the nature of law, a system carefully designed to evaluate arguments on the basis of something other than because I say so. The bullshitter is fundamentally, as Frankfurt writes, “trying to get away with something”—while law establishes meaning and imposes consequence.
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The upcoming trials of Trump—in Manhattan; Atlanta; South Florida; and Washington, D.C.—will not be the first time he encounters this dynamic. His claims of 2020 election fraud floundered before judges, resulting in a series of almost unmitigated losses. In one ruling that censured and fined a team of Trump-aligned lawyers who had pursued spurious fraud allegations, a federal judge in Michigan made the point bluntly. “While there are many arenas—including print, television, and social media—where protestations, conjecture, and speculation may be advanced,” she wrote, “such expressions are neither permitted nor welcomed in a court of law.”
But only now is Trump himself appearing as a criminal defendant, stripped of the authority and protections of the presidency, before judges with the power to impose a prison sentence. The very first paragraph of the Georgia indictment marks this shift in power. Contrary to everything that Trump has tried so desperately to prove, the indictment asserts that “Trump lost the United States presidential election held on November 3, 2020”—and then actively sought to subvert it.
Although Trump loves to file lawsuits against those who have supposedly wronged him, the courtroom has never been his home turf. Records from depositions over the years show him to be sullen and impatient while under oath, like a middle schooler stuck in detention. Timothy L. O’Brien, a journalist whom Trump unsuccessfully sued for libel in 2006, recalled in Bloomberg that his lawyers forced Trump to acknowledge that he had lied over the years about a range of topics. Trump has seemed similarly ill at ease during his arraignments. When the magistrate judge presiding over his arraignment in the January 6 case asked whether he understood that the conditions of his release required that he commit no more crimes, he assented almost in a whisper.
All of this has been a cause for celebration among Trump’s opponents—because the charges against him are warranted and arguably overdue, but also for a different reason. The next year of American politics will be a twin drama unlike anything the nation has seen before, played out in the courtroom and on the campaign trail, often at the same time. Among Democrats, the potential interplay of these storylines has produced a profound hope: Judicial power, they anticipate, may scuttle Trump’s chances of retaking the presidency, and finally solve the political problem of Donald Trump once and for all.
It has become conventional wisdom that nothing can hurt Trump’s standing in the polls. But his legal jeopardy could, in fact, have political consequences. At least some proportion of Republicans and independents are already paying attention to Trump’s courtroom travails, and reassessing their prior beliefs. A recent report by the political-science collaborative Bright Line Watch found that, following the Mar-a-Lago classified-documents indictment in June, the number of voters in each group who believed that Trump had committed a crime in his handling of classified information jumped by 10 percentage points or more (to 25 and 46 percent, respectively).
And despite Trump’s effort to frame January 6 as an expression of mass discontent by the American people, the insurrection has never been popular: Extremist candidates who ran on a platform of election denial in the 2022 midterms performed remarkably poorly in swing states. Ongoing criminal proceedings that remind Americans again and again of Trump’s culpability for the insurrection—among his other alleged crimes—seem unlikely to boost his popularity with persuadable voters. If he appears diminished or uncertain in court, even the enthusiasm of the MAGA faithful might conceivably wane.
Above all of this looms the possibility of a conviction before Election Day, which has no doubt inspired many Democratic fantasies. If Trump is found guilty of any of the crimes of which he now stands accused, a recent poll shows, almost half of Republicans say they would not cast their vote for him.
But that outcome is only one possibility, and it does not appear to be the most likely.
Americans who oppose Trump—and, more to the point, who wish he would disappear as a political force—have repeatedly sought saviors in legal institutions. The early Trump years saw the lionization of Special Counsel Robert Mueller as a white knight and (bewilderingly) a sex symbol. Later, public affection turned toward the unassuming civil servants who testified against Trump during his first impeachment, projecting an old-school devotion to the truth that contrasted with Trump’s gleeful cynicism. Today, Mueller’s successors—particularly Special Counsel Jack Smith and Fulton County District Attorney Fani Willis, who is leading the Georgia prosecution—are the subjects of their own adoring memes and merchandise. One coffee mug available for purchase features Smith’s face and the text Somebody’s Gonna Get Jacked Up!
Perhaps this time will be different. With Trump out of office, Smith hasn’t been limited, as Mueller was, by the Justice Department’s internal guidance prohibiting the indictment of a sitting chief executive. Willis, a state prosecutor, operates outside the federal government’s constraints. And neither Bill Barr nor Republican senators can stand between Trump and a jury.
The indictments against Trump have unfolded in ascending order of moral and political importance. In April, the Manhattan district attorney, Alvin Bragg, announced charges for Trump’s alleged involvement in a hush-money scheme that began in advance of the 2016 election. In June came Smith’s indictment of Trump in Florida, over the ex-president’s hoarding of classified documents at Mar-a-Lago. Two months later, the special counsel unveiled charges against Trump for his attempts to overturn the 2020 election. Willis’s indictment in Georgia quickly followed, employing the state’s racketeering statute to allege a widespread scheme to subvert the vote in favor of Trump. (He has pleaded not guilty in the first three cases and, as of this writing, was awaiting arraignment in Georgia. The Trump campaign released a statement calling the latest indictment “bogus.”)
But each case has its own set of complexities. The New York one is weighed down by a puzzling backstory—of charges considered, not pursued, and finally taken up after all—that leaves Bragg’s office open to accusations of a politically motivated prosecution. The indictment in Florida seems relatively open-and-shut as a factual matter, but difficult to prosecute because it involves classified documents not meant to be widely shared, along with a jury pool that is relatively sympathetic to Trump and a judge who has already contorted the law in Trump’s favor. In the January 6 case, based in Washington, D.C., the sheer singularity of the insurrection means that the legal theories marshaled by the special counsel’s office are untested. The sweeping scope of the Georgia indictment—which involves 19 defendants and 41 criminal counts—may lead to practical headaches and delays as the case proceeds.
Trump’s army of lawyers will be ready to kick up dust and frustrate each prosecution. As of July, a political-action committee affiliated with Trump had spent about $40 million on legal fees to defend him and his allies. The strategy is clear: delay. Trump has promised to file a motion to move the January 6 proceedings out of Washington, worked regularly to stretch out ordinary deadlines in that case, and tried (unsuccessfully) to move the New York case from state to federal court. The longer Trump can draw out the proceedings, the more likely he is to make it through the Republican primaries and the general election without being dragged down by a conviction. At that point, a victorious Trump could simply wait until his inauguration, then demand that the Justice Department scrap the federal cases against him. Even if a conviction happens before Americans go to the polls, Trump is almost certain to appeal, hoping to strand any verdict in purgatory as voters decide whom to support.
Currently, the court schedule is set to coincide with the 2024 Republican primaries. The Manhattan trial, for now, is scheduled to begin in March. In the Mar-a-Lago case, Judge Aileen Cannon has set a May trial date—though the proceedings will likely be pushed back. In the January 6 case, Smith has asked for a lightning-fast trial date just after New Year’s; in Georgia, Willis has requested a trial date in early March. But still, what little time is left before next November is rapidly slipping away. In all likelihood, voters will have to decide how to cast their ballot before the trials conclude.
The pileup of four trials in multiple jurisdictions would be chaotic even if the defendant were not a skillful demagogue running for president. There’s no formal process through which judges and prosecutors can coordinate parallel trials, and that confusion could lead to scheduling mishaps and dueling prosecutorial strategies that risk undercutting one another. For instance, if a witness is granted immunity to testify against Trump in one case, then charged by a different prosecutor in another, their testimony in the first case might be used against them in the second, and so they might be reluctant to talk.
In each of the jurisdictions, defendants are generally required to sit in court during trial, though judges might make exceptions. This entirely ordinary restriction will, to some, look politically motivated if Trump is not allowed to skip out for campaign rallies, though conversely, Trump’s absence might not sit well with jurors who themselves may wish to be elsewhere. All in all, it may be hard to shake the appearance of a traveling legal circus.
Attacking the people responsible for holding him to account is one of Trump’s specialties. Throughout the course of their respective investigations, Trump has smeared Bragg (who is Black) as an “animal,” Willis (who is also Black) as “racist,” and Smith as “deranged.” Just days after the January 6 case was assigned to Judge Tanya Chutkan, Trump was already complaining on his social-media site, Truth Social, that “THERE IS NO WAY I CAN GET A FAIR TRIAL” with Chutkan presiding (in the January 6 cases she has handled, she has evinced little sympathy for the rioters). Anything that goes wrong for Trump during the proceedings seems destined to be the subject of a late-night Truth Social post or a wrathful digression from the rally stage.
However damning the cases against Trump, they will matter to voters only if they hear accurate accounts of them from a trusted news source. Following each of Trump’s indictments to date, Fox News has run segment after segment on his persecution. A New York Times /Siena College poll released in July, after the first two indictments, found that zero percent of Trump’s loyal MAGA base—about 37 percent of Republicans—believes he committed serious federal crimes.
And beyond the MAGA core? A recent CBS News poll showed that 59 percent of Americans and 83 percent of self-described non-MAGA Republicans believe the investigations and indictments against Trump are, at least in part, attempts to stop him politically. Trump and his surrogates will take every opportunity to stoke that belief, and the effect of those efforts must be balanced against the hits Trump will take from being on trial. Recent poll numbers show Trump running very close to President Joe Biden even after multiple indictments—a fairly astonishing achievement for someone who is credibly accused of attempting a coup against the government that he’s now campaigning to lead.
The law can do a great deal. But the justice system is only one institution of many, and it can’t be fully separated from the broader ecosystem of cultural and political pathologies that brought the country to this situation in the first place.
After Robert Mueller chose not to press for an indictment of Trump on obstruction charges, because of Justice Department guidance on presidential immunity, the liberal and center-right commentariat soured on the special counsel, declaring him to have failed. If some Americans now expect Fani Willis or Jack Smith to disappear the problem of Donald Trump—and the authoritarian movement he leads—they will very likely be disappointed once again. Which wouldn’t matter so much if serial disappointment in legal institutions—he just keeps getting away with it—didn’t encourage despair, cynicism, and nihilism. These are exactly the sentiments that autocrats hope to engender. They would be particularly dangerous attitudes during a second Trump term, when public outrage will be needed to galvanize civil servants to resist abuses of power—and they must be resisted.
Trump’s trials are perhaps best seen as one part of a much larger legal landscape. The Justice Department’s prosecutions of rioters who attacked the Capitol on January 6 seem to have held extremist groups back from attempting other riots or acts of mass intimidation, even though Trump has called for protests as his indictments have rained down. Michigan Attorney General Dana Nessel recently announced criminal charges alleging that more than a dozen Republicans acted as “fake electors” in an effort to steal the 2020 election for Trump—and as a result, would-be accomplices in Trump’s further plots may be less inclined to risk their own freedom to help the candidate out. Likewise, some of those lawyers who worked to overturn the 2020 vote have now been indicted in Georgia and face potential disbarment—which could cause other attorneys to hold back from future schemes.
This is a vision of accountability as deterrence, achieved piece by piece. Even if Trump wins a second term, these efforts will complicate his drive for absolute authority. And no matter the political fallout, the criminal prosecutions of Trump are themselves inherently valuable. When Trump’s opponents declare that “no one is above the law,” they’re asserting a bedrock principle of American society, and the very act of doing so helps keep that principle alive.
None of this settles what may happen on Election Day, of course, or in the days that follow. But nor would a conviction. If a majority of voters in a handful of swing states decide they want to elect a president convicted of serious state and federal crimes, the courts can’t prevent them from doing so.
Such a result would lead to perhaps the most exaggerated disjunction yet between American law and politics: the matter of what to do with a felonious chief executive. If federal charges are the problem, Trump seems certain to try to grant himself a pardon—a move that would raise constitutional questions left unsettled since Watergate. In the case of state-level conviction, though, President Trump would have no such power. Could it be that he might end up serving his second term from a Georgia prison?
The question isn’t absurd, and yet there’s no obvious answer to how that would work in practice. The best way of dealing with such a problem is as maddeningly, impossibly straightforward as it always has been: Don’t elect this man in the first place.
This article appears in the October 2023 print edition with the headline “Trump on Trial.” When you buy a book using a link on this page, we receive a commission. Thank you for supporting The Atlantic.
When Special Counsel Jack Smith announced last week that a federal grand jury had indicted former President Donald Trump, he made a point of saying that the government would “seek a speedy trial in this matter, consistent with the public interest.” Whether Trump gets one could determine whether he goes to prison for his alleged crimes.
In just over 18 months, Trump could be serving as president again, at which point he’d be in a position to attempt to pardon himself or instruct the Department of Justice to dismiss its case against him. That might seem like a long way away, but for the nation’s tortoiselike federal-court system, it’s not. Complex, high-profile cases sometimes take years to get to trial, and former federal prosecutors told me that, even under the fastest scenarios, Trump’s trial won’t begin for several months and potentially for more than a year. Trump may well be waiting for a trial when voters cast their presidential ballots next fall. Although Smith will do all he can to hurry up the prosecution, the former president’s legal team could move to dismiss the charges—though that would almost certainly be futile—and file other pretrial motions in order to bog down the process.
“There’s a pretty obvious incentive from [Trump’s] point of view for delaying this,” Kristy Parker, a lawyer at the advocacy group Protect Democracy who tried cases for 15 years at the Justice Department, told me. “That is especially true if he understands that the evidence against him is significant and that the chances of him being convicted of these offenses are pretty high.”
Different federal courts operate at different speeds. The Eastern District of Virginia, for example, has long been known as “the rocket docket”; it’s raced through even high-profile cases such as the 2018 trial of Trump’s former campaign chair Paul Manafort. Trump’s trial will occur in the Southern District of Florida and will reportedly be overseen by one of his own appointees, Judge Aileen Cannon. “Federal judges have enormous control over their courtrooms and over the schedule and timing of their cases,” Chuck Rosenberg, a former U.S. attorney in Virginia and Texas, told me. “Some are very good at docket management, and some are not.” Having served as a judge for less than three years, Cannon hasn’t developed much of a reputation either way.
Cannon presided over a lawsuit Trump filed last year after the FBI executed a search warrant at his Mar-a-Lago estate. She issued a series of rulings favorable to him. Representative Dan Goldman, a New York Democrat and a former federal prosecutor who served as a top counsel to the House Judiciary Committee during Trump’s first impeachment, told me it was “concerning” that Cannon would apparently run the former president’s trial. “It was pretty clear that her initial rulings did not follow the law but followed some preconceived personal and political viewpoints, and there’s no place for that in the judiciary,” Goldman said. Indeed, the conservative Eleventh Circuit Court of Appeals reversed a pair of Cannon’s decisions, including one that barred the government from accessing some of the documents that the FBI recovered from Mar-a-Lago.
Another former Democratic co-counsel during the Trump impeachment, Norm Eisen, has called for Cannon to recuse herself or be taken off the case.
If Cannon stays on the case, she will have fairly wide latitude to set its tempo. She will be responsible for scheduling any pretrial motions and hearings, determining what evidence is admissible, and ruling on potentially time-intensive challenges that Trump’s lawyers could bring.
In their indictment, the prosecutors estimated that a trial would take 21 days in court—not an especially long trial for a case of such magnitude. The timeline suggests the government believes it has a pretty “straightforward” argument, Parker said.
The fact that this case centers on documents Trump had in his possession—illegally, the government argues—means that he may have already seen a significant portion of the evidence the Justice Department has on him. Theoretically, that could speed up the discovery process that occurs before any trial. But cases that involve classified documents tend to take longer, former prosecutors told me, because the court will have to determine who can access sensitive materials and how to protect government secrets before and during a trial. Most of the pretrial rulings that Cannon could make are subject to appeal, and those delays can quickly add up.
Another scheduling complication is that Trump is facing another criminal trial, in New York, on charges that he falsified business records, and he could face yet another indictment and trial in Georgia related to his efforts to overturn the results of the 2020 presidential election. Trump’s Manhattan trial is scheduled for March, which would be about 10 months after his indictment in that case and right in the middle of the Republican primary season. (Although the cases are in different jurisdictions, the 10-month lag could be a rough guide for how long Trump’s federal trial will take to get under way.)
One of the biggest questions Cannon may face is whether the election should factor into her decisions about how soon to schedule a trial and whether to agree to delays that Trump might seek. Parker argued that the election is a legitimate consideration. “We are in uncharted territory,” she said, “and quite frankly, I would think that a court would want to try to get this matter resolved ahead of that point.” Even if Trump’s trial concludes before the 2024 election, however, it’s unlikely that (if he’s convicted) his appeals will be exhausted by then.
The former prosecutors I spoke with could only guess at what would happen if Trump were elected president while awaiting trial or sentencing. The case would likely proceed after the election, and the Constitution doesn’t explicitly bar convicted felons from taking office. Whether Trump could pardon himself is a matter of debate; no president has ever tried, but in 1974, the Justice Department’s Office of Legal Counsel issued an opinion stating that a presidential self-pardon would be unconstitutional. Even if Trump did not attempt to pardon himself, though, he could lean on or simply direct his appointees in the Justice Department to drop the case against him. He’d surely argue that, by electing him, voters had rendered a verdict more legitimate than any jury’s.
For all the legal wrangling to come, Trump’s ultimate fate may yet rest with the voters. If he is the Republican nominee, they will have what amounts to the final word on his future, political and otherwise. “These cases are important, but they are not magic wands,” Parker said. “They will not relieve the voting public of its problems.”
A decade’s worth of disappointment has conditioned Black Americans and Democrats to fear voting-rights rulings from the Supreme Court. In 2013, a 5–4 majority invalidated a core tenet of the Voting Rights Act of 1965. Subsequent decisions have chipped away at the rest of the law, and in 2019, a majority of the justices declared that federal courts have no power to bar partisan gerrymandering.
So this morning, when two conservatives joined the high court’s three liberals in reaffirming a central part of the Voting Rights Act, Democrats reacted as much with shock as with relief. Chief Justice John Roberts, who wrote the 2013 decision in Shelby v. Holder that stripped the government’s power to vet state voting laws in advance, today released an opinion ruling that Alabama’s congressional map illegally diluted the votes of Black people by packing them into one majority-minority district rather than two.
The decision in the case known as Allen v. Milligan preserves, for now, the landmark civil-rights law that many legal observers worried the Court would render all but moot. It also could have important ramifications for the 2024 elections and control of the House of Representatives, where Republicans hold just a five-seat majority.
Many Democrats believe that the ruling will have a domino effect on other pending cases and ultimately force three southern states—not only Alabama but also Louisiana and Georgia—to each add a new majority-minority district before the congressional election, which would almost certainly flip seats currently held by Republicans. Texas might have to add as many as five majority-minority districts to its map. “It really clears the path for these cases to move forward hopefully in a quick resolution,” Abha Khanna, a Democratic lawyer who argued the Allen case before the Supreme Court on behalf of Black voters from Alabama, told me.
These potential gains could more than offset the losses that Democrats are anticipating in North Carolina, where a new conservative majority on the state supreme court is expected to draw a congressional map more favorable to Republicans. After the ruling, the nonpartisan prognosticator Cook Political Report immediately shifted its projections for the 2024 elections by moving five House seats in the Democrats’ direction.
Justice Brett Kavanaugh, a 2018 appointee of former President Donald Trump, joined Roberts and the Court’s three Democratic appointees, Justices Sonia Sotomayor, Elena Kagan, and Ketanji Brown Jackson, in the 5–4 ruling. The decision was surprising not only because it ran counter to the Court’s recent jurisprudence on voting rights but also because last year, a majority of justices left in place the same maps that the Court today deemed illegal. That ruling, which came in an unsigned opinion on the Court’s so-called shadow docket, might have made the difference in the Democrats losing their House majority.
“While we were certainly disappointed,” Khanna told me of that decision, “I think today’s victory shows that in this case, justice delayed was not justice denied.”
Advocates for voting rights were caught off guard. “Supreme Court Shocks Nation by Doing the Right Thing,” one left-leaning group, Take Back the Court, wrote in the subject line of an email that read like a headline from The Onion. George Cheung, the director of a voting-rights group called More Equitable Democracy, told me he was stunned by the ruling: “I and many others assumed that they would undermine if not completely gut what remained of the federal Voting Rights Act.”
Instead, the Court’s majority rejected a bid by Alabama to reinterpret the redistricting provisions of Section 2 of the law as “race neutral,” a change that would have reversed the VRA’s original intent to protect disenfranchised Black voters.
For Democrats, the decision offered a rare moment to celebrate a ruling from an institution in which many in the party have lost faith. The Court’s decisions in earlier voting-rights cases, on gun laws, the environment, campaign finance, and in particular the national right to abortion—which was reversed last year—have led progressives to accuse conservative justices of ruling according to their political preferences instead of the law
The Court’s decision, Khanna told me, shouldn’t have been surprising—even if, to many people, it clearly was. “It’s certainly a remarkable victory for the Voting Rights Act and for minority voting rights,” she said, “but it’s rather unremarkable, because what it says is the law is as we have said it to be for the last nearly 40 years.”
On the November morning when the sulfur burps began, Derron Borders was welcoming prospective students at the graduate school where he works in New York. Every few minutes, no matter how hard he tried to stop, another foul-smelling cloud escaped his mouth. “Burps that taste and smell like rotten eggs—I think that’s what I typed in Google,” he told me.
Eventually, Borders learned that his diabetes medication was to blame. Sulfur burps appear to be a somewhat rare side effect of semaglutide, tirzepatide, and other drugs in their class, known as GLP-1 receptor agonists. Over the past several years, these medications have become more popular under the brand names Ozempic, Wegovy, and Mounjaro, as a diabetes treatment and a weight-loss drug. And as prescription numbers rise, a strange and unpleasant side effect has been growing more apparent too.
GLP-1 receptor agonists are well known to cause gastrointestinal symptoms, including abdominal pain, diarrhea, and vomiting. In clinical trials of semaglutide for weight loss, 44 percent of participants experienced nausea and 31 percent had diarrhea. (The same conditions afflicted only about one-sixth of participants who received a placebo.) Burping, a.k.a. “eructation,” showed up in about 9 percent of those who got the drug, versus less than 1 percent of those who took a placebo. The FDA lists eructation as a possible side effect for semaglutide and tirzepatide alike.
But I couldn’t find any information in the clinical-trial reports or FDA fact sheets about sulfur burps in particular, and neither Novo Nordisk nor Eli Lilly, the companies that make these drugs, responded to my inquiries. Laura Davisson, the director of medical weight management at West Virginia University Health Sciences, told me that more than 1,000 of her clinic’s patients are currently on a GLP-1 receptor agonist, and about one-fifth experience sulfur burps at first. For all but a handful of these patients, she said, the issue goes away after a few months. Holly Lofton, an obesity-medicine specialist at NYU, guesses that it affects just 2 percent of her patients.
Experts aren’t sure why taking GLP-1 receptor agonists might lead to having smelly burps, but they have some theories. Davisson proposed that semaglutide boosts the number of bacteria in patients’ digestive tracts that produce hydrogen sulfide, a gas that can be expelled from either end of the digestive tract, and that smells (as Borders found) like rotten eggs. She also noted that the drugs slow down digestion, which could give the stomach more time to break down food and produce gas. In this situation, Lofton told me, the putrid air may escape most readily up through the mouth, because it’s lighter than the liquids and semi-solids that also fill the stomach. “Whatever’s on top will come up,” she said.
Eating more than usual while on the medications seems to be a common trigger. Davisson said that certain foods, such as dairy, may also lead to more odorous emissions. “Sometimes it’s a matter of trial and error,” she said. “Some tips that we give people are things like: Don’t eat really heavy meals; don’t eat large portions at once; don’t eat right before bed.” In addition to these behavioral approaches, Craig Gluckman, a gastroenterologist at UCLA Health, told me he recommends antacids and anti-gas medications to patients with GLP-1-agonist-related sulfur burps. (Online, apple-cider vinegar is commonly recommended as a fix, but Gluckman said he would not recommend it.)
The providers I spoke with said that, in general, patients tend to experience sulfur burps when they’re first starting an Ozempic-like drug, or raising their dose. That was the case for Crystal Garcia, an HR administrator in Texas who started taking semaglutide from a compounding pharmacy after her doctor told her she was prediabetic. (Garcia vlogs about her experience with weight-loss drugs.) Three months later, while out to breakfast at a restaurant, Garcia’s family started to complain about a gross and eggy smell. Garcia figured that the smell was coming from the food, but it lingered in the car after the meal. The family wondered whether Garcia’s young son had had an accident. “I was like, it could not be me. There’s no way,” she told me. But when she burped again, she was forced to change her mind.
Many patients are unaware that sulfur burps are a possible side effect of their medication until they start, well, burping sulfur. For a while, Borders had no idea that his diabetes medicine might be the culprit; when he saw a physician’s assistant to discuss his issue, “Ozempic didn’t even come up,” he said. The side effect is relatively new to physicians. Earlier GLP-1 agonists didn’t seem to produce sulfur burps so frequently, Lofton said. In her practice, the phenomenon wasn’t really apparent until Ozempic hit the American market in 2018, and even then, she learned about it only from her patients. “I’d never heard of sulfur burps before I started prescribing this medicine,” she said.
Though the sulfur burps are (physically) harmless, some patients do stop taking their diabetes or weight-loss drugs because of them, Lofton told me. But most, including Garcia and Borders, end up sticking with their program. As bad as the side effects may be, patients think the drugs’ benefits are worth it. “I have had a patient say that her burps smelled like poop,” Davisson said. But even then, she did not want to stop the medication.
The numbers: The S&P CoreLogic Case-Shiller 20-city house price index fell 0.5% in October, its fourth monthly decline.
Year-over-year prices rose rose 8.6%, slowing from 10.4% in the previous month.
A broader measure of home prices, the national index, fell a seasonally adjusted 0.3% in October from September.
A separate report from the Federal Housing Finance Agency showed home prices remaining flat in October, down from a 0.1% gain the prior month.
And over the last year, the FHFA index was up 9.8%.
Key details: Miami, Tampa, and Charlotte reported the highest year-over-year gains among the 20 cities in October. All 20 cities reported lower price increases.
San Francisco and Seattle reported the lowest year-over-year gains, which have seen prices fall by more than 10% from a peak in May.
Big picture: Housing is in a slowdown, but affordability hasn’t returned. Homes are still expensive, as mortgage rates remain above 6%, and inventory of homes available for sale remains low.
What S&P said: “As the Federal Reserve continues to move interest rates higher, mortgage financing continues to be a headwind for home prices,” Craig J. Lazzara, managing director at S&P DJI, said.
“Given the continuing prospects for a challenging macroeconomic environment, prices may well continue to weaken,” he added.
Market reaction: The Dow Jones Industrial Average DJIA, -0.22%
and the S&P 500 SPX, -0.63%
were up in early trading on Tuesday. The yield on the 10-year Treasury note TMUBMUSD10Y, 3.807%
rose above 3.81%.
The bond between a Ralston teacher and her fifth-grade student is stronger than ever. Janice Rhods is mourning her baby boy. He recently died after dealing with a rare heart issue. But about a month before, fifth-grade student Adrianna Case stepped up to help in a big way.It’s been about two weeks since Rhods lost a huge piece of her world.”I think of his smile. Honestly, I think of him now in peace,” Rhods said.Her 5-and-a-half-month-old son Caden suffered from hypoplastic left heart syndrome.”His life was one that was filled of pain and hospital stays. He was happiest when he was outside, and he only got that for a couple months,” Rhods said. “Out of the 5-and-a-half months that he was alive, he was home for two of them.”In November, Caden caught a common cold which led to a fever and a high heart rate.”Everything escalated super quickly,” Rhods said.Caden passed away on Nov. 17.”A combination of all of that, they think his heart was just overworking. His heart was super, super fragile,” Rhods said.Rhods teaches fifth grade at Karen Western Elementary School in Ralston. So far this school year, she has spent a lot of time out of the classroom to be by Caden’s side.”You’re trying to be there for your son and for my two other kids I have at home and then I’m also trying to be there for my students,” she said.Rhods’ student, Case, noticed that struggle about a month before Caden died, and decided she wanted to do whatever she could to help. “I got him a blanket and I felt like that wasn’t enough so I started a GoFundMe,” Case said.With the help of her mom, Case was able to create a GoFundMe, raising $2,000 for her favorite teacher.”I thought it would just be, not like to $2,000. I thought it would just be like a couple hundred dollars,” Case said.For Rhods, the joy of all of this is about so much more than the money.”It’s more of, what she did to show her compassion and caring for others. Because she showed that for me, I know she’d do that to other people,” Rhods said.”I truly love her,” Case said about Rhods.Rhods said she’ll go back to work Monday. She said she doesn’t think she’d be able to make it through if it weren’t for her amazing students like Adrianna.
RALSTON, Neb. —
The bond between a Ralston teacher and her fifth-grade student is stronger than ever. Janice Rhods is mourning her baby boy. He recently died after dealing with a rare heart issue. But about a month before, fifth-grade student Adrianna Case stepped up to help in a big way.
It’s been about two weeks since Rhods lost a huge piece of her world.
“I think of his smile. Honestly, I think of him now in peace,” Rhods said.
Her 5-and-a-half-month-old son Caden suffered from hypoplastic left heart syndrome.
“His life was one that was filled of pain and hospital stays. He was happiest when he was outside, and he only got that for a couple months,” Rhods said. “Out of the 5-and-a-half months that he was alive, he was home for two of them.”
In November, Caden caught a common cold which led to a fever and a high heart rate.
“Everything escalated super quickly,” Rhods said.
Caden passed away on Nov. 17.
“A combination of all of that, they think his heart was just overworking. His heart was super, super fragile,” Rhods said.
Rhods teaches fifth grade at Karen Western Elementary School in Ralston. So far this school year, she has spent a lot of time out of the classroom to be by Caden’s side.
“You’re trying to be there for your son and for my two other kids I have at home and then I’m also trying to be there for my students,” she said.
Rhods’ student, Case, noticed that struggle about a month before Caden died, and decided she wanted to do whatever she could to help.
“I got him a blanket and I felt like that wasn’t enough so I started a GoFundMe,” Case said.
With the help of her mom, Case was able to create a GoFundMe, raising $2,000 for her favorite teacher.
“I thought it would just be, not like to $2,000. I thought it would just be like a couple hundred dollars,” Case said.
For Rhods, the joy of all of this is about so much more than the money.
“It’s more of, what she did to show her compassion and caring for others. Because she showed that for me, I know she’d do that to other people,” Rhods said.
“I truly love her,” Case said about Rhods.
Rhods said she’ll go back to work Monday. She said she doesn’t think she’d be able to make it through if it weren’t for her amazing students like Adrianna.
