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C. J. Rice was first arraigned in 2011 on the 11th floor of 1301 Filbert Street, a towering, steel-framed criminal-court complex two miles from the South Philadelphia neighborhood where he’d grown up. In 2013, on the fifth floor of the same building, Rice was tried on four counts of attempted murder, found guilty, and sentenced to 30 to 60 years in prison. For three years, he appealed the sentence, appearing on the sixth, seventh, eighth, ninth, and tenth floors. After each attempt failed, he was shuttled back to a state prison in rural Coal Township, Pennsylvania.

This morning, on the eighth floor, the Philadelphia District Attorney’s Office announced that it no longer considers Rice a viable suspect in the shooting for which he had been found guilty. His conviction had already been overturned by a federal court in November, on the grounds that his attorney had been constitutionally deficient. In today’s decision, the D.A.’s office formally dismissed the charges against him. The D.A.’s decision fully exonerates Rice. He is now a free man. He had been imprisoned for more than 12 years.

[From the November 2022 issue: Jake Tapper on his father, a Philadelphia teenager, and the empty promise of the Sixth Amendment]

Rice was the subject of my November 2022 cover story for The Atlantic, “Good Luck, Mr. Rice,” which investigated his trial and the shortcomings of Sandjai Weaver, his court-appointed attorney. The case against Rice was always weak. No physical evidence tied Rice to the shooting for which he was arrested, and the single victim who identified him had told police three times that she didn’t know who had shot her before eventually changing her story. Yet Weaver failed to gather exculpatory evidence and repeatedly missed opportunities to challenge the state’s case against her client. A source with the D.A.’s office told me that Rice’s conviction likely resulted from his representation being so bad.

Rice had compelling evidence of his innocence: Three weeks prior to his alleged crime, he had been shot in a separate incident that had left him hospitalized for days. When he visited his pediatrician for follow-up care, he could barely walk. That pediatrician was my father, Theodore Tapper. Six days later, the Philadelphia police announced that they sought his patient as a suspect. My father was dumbfounded. Witnesses had seen the perpetrators of Rice’s alleged crime running from the scene. “I don’t think it’s physically possible,” he told me.

My father campaigned for Rice’s release for more than a decade, testifying at his trial and appeals, even marshaling a team of specialized lawyers to his defense and—after lobbying by me—allowing me to report on the story. Today’s announcement is the vindication of his efforts, the culmination of an 83-year-old physician’s commitment to a patient whom everyone else seemed to have forgotten.

For Rice, now 30, it’s a chance to finally live an adult life, set his own schedule, choose his own clothes, turn lights on and off at his leisure. When he first visited 1301 Filbert for his arraignment, Blockbuster was still renting DVDs and America was still at war in Iraq. This morning, when the announcement came, Rice wasn’t even in the building. He’d spent enough time there. “That’s behind me now,” Rice said.

On his last day in prison, Rice received something of a send-off: His cellblock at State Correctional Institution–Chester, the medium-security prison to which he was transferred after my story was published, was put on lockdown and he was strip-searched. Rice stood compliantly as guards and German shepherds scoured his room. He was used to the invasive procedure, but he was still irritated.

Clothes off, arms straight out, then up. Behind one ear, then behind the other. A guard made him open his mouth, lift his tongue. He ran his fingers through Rice’s hair and then his beard. Rice knew the drill by then: lift his penis, then his scrotum, turn around, squat, cough.

Rice had been through hundreds of these searches over the years. During lockdowns. Before and after every in-person visit. The searches were humiliating, degrading, but also routine. Nothing found. His day proceeded as usual. He went for a walk in the yard with his fellow inmates, then made a phone call to his brother.

Before long, he was interrupted by a correctional officer.

“Mr. Rice!” she said. “Mr. Rice!”

Rice made eye contact, his brother still on the line.

“Mr. Rice!” she continued, insistent.

Rice said goodbye, hung up the phone, and approached her desk.

“Mr. Rice, do you have a lot of property and stuff?”

“No,” he said.

“Well, pack your stuff, because you’re going home today.”

It was December 19, 2023. After Rice’s conviction was overturned in federal court, his lawyers arranged his release from prison as the D.A.’s office weighed its next move in the case.

Rice had just turned 30. He had been 17 in 2011 when he turned himself in to the Philadelphia police, having heard they wanted to talk with him. Now he was being told that he would be signing out of the Department of Corrections. “I’m ready,” he told himself.

As Rice gathered his things, Amelia Maxfield, a lawyer then working with the Pennsylvania Innocence Project, waited in the prison lobby. When she visited clients, guards weren’t typically effusive. Today was different. The assistant superintendent chatted with her casually. She sat through a shift change, and a number of staffers made a point to tell her how happy they were for Rice, what a great person he was. Some even waited past their shift to say goodbye to him.

Rice had written to Maxfield and the Innocence Project asking for help, and the group became involved in his case not long after my Atlantic story was published. They worked with Karl Schwartz, a Philadelphia defense attorney, to file a writ of habeas corpus on Rice’s behalf, a petition in federal court challenging the legality of a person’s incarceration. Soon, Rice’s team had grown to include Nilam Sanghvi of the Pennsylvania Innocence Project; Ginger Anders, a seasoned defense attorney of the law firm Munger, Tolles & Olson; and Donald Verrilli, a solicitor general under President Barack Obama. Verrilli became involved when I ran into him at a restaurant, got his cell number, and texted him my Atlantic story. Washington, D.C., is a town where lots of people make well-meaning but ultimately empty promises about helping people with various projects. This was not one of those instances.

In his petition, Schwartz argued that Weaver had fallen short of the Sixth Amendment’s guarantee of a right to effective counsel. She’d made a number of inexplicable blunders while representing Rice: She never subpoenaed his phone records, which Rice said would prove that he wasn’t at the scene of the crime; she also failed to challenge the victim who identified Rice on why she had changed her story. In his petition, Schwartz chose to focus on one particularly egregious error: Weaver’s decision to allow the prosecution to introduce a theory that one of the victims of the shooting had shot Rice earlier that month. That narrative had no evidentiary basis, but it suggested that Rice had had a motive to retaliate.

Habeas petitions are long shots, succeeding in just 0.3 percent of cases, according to one 2007 study. Ineffective-assistance-of-counsel claims are perhaps even more difficult to establish, owing to a high burden of proof set in the 1984 Supreme Court case Strickland v. Washington. But on September 22, 2023, the Philadelphia District Attorney’s Office conceded that the retaliation theory was “prejudicial” and that Weaver’s decision to allow it was “objectively unreasonable.” It agreed, in other words, that she had been ineffective. On October 23, a U.S. magistrate judge affirmed Schwartz’s habeas petition. The decision then went to Nitza I. Quiñones Alejandro, a district judge for the Eastern District of Pennsylvania. She officially overturned Rice’s conviction on November 27.

[Andrew Aoyama: C. J. Rice’s conviction is overturned]

That put Rice’s fate back in the hands of the Philadelphia District Attorney’s Office. Larry Krasner, elected D.A. in 2017, could either retry Rice or drop all of the charges. In the meantime, Rice was back to a legal state akin to pretrial detention. He could leave prison under a bail agreement.

Rice walked out of SCI-Chester that evening with a big smile on his face. He gave Maxfield a warm embrace.

“Amelia!” he shouted.

“Hey!” she said.

He carried a tub of his legal work, documents he’d amassed over the years as he’d attempted to prove his innocence. They walked to Maxfield’s rental car. He seemed delirious, in disbelief. He kept saying “Wow!”

“Do you want to change your clothes in the waiting-room bathroom?” Maxfield asked. Rice was still wearing his orange prison sweatshirt and hat. Maxfield had brought a change of clothes for him from his girlfriend, Shawna, but the last place he wanted to go was back into SCI-Chester. So they got in the car and drove to a local diner, where Shawna was waiting.

“C.J. is an incredible person, and his determination over the past 12 years has been remarkable,” Maxfield told me. “The problems that led to C.J.’s wrongful conviction—unreliable eyewitnesses, ineffective assistance of counsel, and a poor police investigation—infect so many cases in Philadelphia and across the country.” Maxfield now works for the Exoneration Project, an organization that provides free legal services to the wrongfully convicted. “We are so happy that C.J. is home and free, and we look forward to continuing the fight for those who are not.”

“I’m glad to see this wrong righted,” Rice texted me once he was out. Still, his experience had destroyed his confidence in the legal system. “Can’t call it a mistake. Because the Commonwealth of Pennsylvania’s judicial system had at least five separate times to correct this specific situation, and chose not to act in the interest of justice,” he continued, referring to his trial and subsequent appeals. Either the Pennsylvania court system failed to seriously review his case, he said, or it did review it and “chose to allow a clear injustice to stand.”
Rice knows Weaver was bad at her job, but he sees many other systemic reasons why he ended up in prison unfairly. He seems motivated to join the legal system and help others like him. He is whip-smart. He should be a lawyer.

(Caroline Gutman for The Atlantic)

On Sunday, February 4, my father traveled from his home outside Philadelphia to meet up with Rice, who is far from the city, trying to build a new life.

My father was anxious about how this reunion would go. Though freeing Rice had become one of the great causes of his life, my father hadn’t been within arm’s length of him since September 2011, when Rice came to his office and he inspected the more than two dozen staples holding his torso together after Rice had been shot. Since then, they’d spent years corresponding by mail.

When my father arrived at the diner where they’d planned to meet, he emailed Rice from the parking lot, telling him he was there. A moment later, Rice appeared at his window.

“I got out of my car,” my dad recalls. “We stared at one another briefly and then gave each other a huge hug.”

My father took in how much Rice had changed since they’d last met. In addition to growing two or three inches, he’s put on about 80 pounds of muscle.

My dad ordered French toast and sweetened raspberry tea. Rice had tea and a Mexican wrap. As had been their practice over the years that they had exchanged letters, Rice shared some of his writing. He had left behind the college-ruled paper he used in prison for a new iPhone. These were his reflections on being free:

It was a shock to the senses, in both a figurative and literal way. The simple act of a hug is so warming and appreciated, something I’ve become so deprived of for over the past dozen years or so. Amazing how hugs make you feel human. At the same time it feels real but I guess that’s where I ask someone to pinch me so I know I’m not dreaming. Ouch. That’s because it’s reality. Wow. A lot to take in … like I came out of the twilight zone. Overwhelmingly humble. I guess that’s the best way to try and describe the feeling. Many people who I did not get to see again, guess that’s a part of life and have to keep on keeping on.

After about 90 minutes, my dad and Rice stood, hugged, and returned to their respective homes.

“The ruling this morning was the correct one—except C.J. never should have been charged with any crime in the first place,” my dad said today. “The legal system churns on its own merry way, and justice is seldom found. Twelve years of C.J.’s life were taken away from him without any compensation.”

That said, some of the photos from my dad reuniting with Rice show a big, relieved smile on his face, a joy that isn’t a common sight.

When Rice was first arrested, in 2011, his niece Promise was just a month old; he could hold her by cupping his hands together. She’s now 12. When they talk after school, Rice says, he peppers her with questions about what’s happened during her day, what she’s learned. “You’d be surprised by how real life is out here,” he said. He’s been fascinated by food-delivery apps, streaming services.

Since his release, he’s tried to spend as much time as possible with his family. Two cousins and a nephew were born while he was incarcerated. Before he was transferred to SCI-Chester, in 2023, a three-hour in-person visit required five hours of driving, round trip, from Philadelphia.

This past weekend, Rice was sitting by a river, far from the city where he was found guilty and sent to prison. He counted seven seagulls flying overhead, watched a father race his three children down the riverbank. “There’s so much space out here,” he said. It was just past 4 p.m.; if he were still in prison, he noted, he’d be locked in his cell until “nighttime rec” at 6 p.m., staring at a cold, gray wall.

“I’m gonna sit here for about 40 minutes and just get it together,” he said. In the future, there will be college, a career, a family. For now, he’s content to let the time pass.

Israeli forces are killing thousands of innocent civilians and badly damaging their country’s standing with its most important partners, including the United States. Israel has also no doubt severely degraded Hamas’s military capabilities, but the question needs to be asked: Is the country’s furious response to the Hamas invasion of October 7 making Israel any safer? At best, it’s still too soon to say—but on balance, what I see worries me.

It sometimes takes years to fully appreciate the strategic significance of a conflict. Great victories look more ambiguous in hindsight, and catastrophic defeats sometimes have silver linings. That seems especially true for Israel.

In 2006, Israel fought a 34-day war with Hezbollah that most observers at the time classed as a decisive victory for the Iranian-sponsored Lebanese militant group. Eighteen years later, that conflict looks instead like the moment when Israel reestablished a measure of cross-border deterrence that it had lost when it withdrew from southern Lebanon in 2000. The Israeli ground onslaught in 2006 may have been disjointed and underwhelming, but the aerial campaign was ferocious; memory of it has almost certainly contributed to the halfheartedness of Hezbollah’s commitment of resources to the current conflict, as well as to the years of relative peace in between.

[Ahmed Fouad Alkhatib: It’s not too late to give Gaza a better future]

Conversely, Israel’s greatest military victory—the Six-Day War of 1967, in which the country shocked itself and the world by rapidly triumphing over its three most dangerous state adversaries—also enabled the West Bank settlement enterprise, which now threatens Israel’s continued existence as a Jewish-majority democracy and makes a clean separation from the Palestinian people almost impossible.

In focusing on the question of Israeli security, I don’t mean to minimize the horrific human suffering this war has caused for Palestinians, many Israelis, and countless Lebanese. Indeed, that suffering, especially the destruction of Palestinian lives and infrastructure, could directly and negatively affect Israel’s security in the future. But the United States has made a commitment, going back at least 50 years, to safeguard Israeli security—a commitment that I, as a former U.S. policy maker, was once charged with upholding. And so it seems worth asking whether this war is actually advancing that goal or hurting it.

The good news for Israel and its remaining international partners is that the Israel Defense Forces still have a serious, competent officer corps—one that has fought its way through some very challenging urban terrain in Gaza with relatively minimal friendly casualties. At the beginning of this conflict, I anticipated that the IDF would struggle to design and execute such a campaign. Fighting in dense areas is very difficult for even the best-drilled units—ask a U.S. Marine what Fallujah was like in 2004—and Israel relies heavily on part-time soldiers and conscripts. But the IDF has worked its way through the territory slowly and deliberately, while preserving combat power in case Hezbollah decides to launch a full-scale attack on Israel’s north.

The bad news, however, is that the IDF has made clear—repeatedly—that it does not prioritize preserving the lives of noncombatants relative to other aims. This indifference has strategic as well as moral repercussions. Biden-administration officials were reportedly horrified by the disregard that Israeli leaders showed for the deaths of more than 100 Palestinians trying to reach humanitarian aid a few weeks ago. Now Washington finds itself in the supremely embarrassing position of having to build a pier to deliver aid to Gaza, because its principal ally in the region—which receives more than $3.8 billion in U.S. taxpayer money each year—is apparently slow-rolling the delivery of humanitarian necessities to a population on the brink of famine.

As a largely conscript force augmented by reservists, the IDF lacks a strong noncommissioned-officer corps—the more experienced junior leaders who provide tactical direction in many Western armies and, crucially, help instill order and discipline. Gaza has revealed the best and the worst of this structure: the best, in that the IDF has shown itself to be a truly cohesive national institution, capable of fighting together as citizen-soldiers despite the bitter political and religious divisions in Israel; the worst, because the IDF has shown itself to be undisciplined, reckless, and willing to use large amounts of artillery and white-phosphorus rounds in urban areas, tendencies that undermine the credibility of Israel’s public claims that it is doing its best to minimize civilian casualties.

Israel complains that it is fighting in challenging and often subterranean conditions in Gaza, which is true. Israel also complains that it is held to a higher standard than other regional militaries, which is also true. Few in the international community spoke out, for example, when the Iraqi army leveled half of Mosul in its effort to expel the Islamic State in 2016 and 2017. But as a democracy that claims to adhere to the international conventions that protect civilians in combat, Israel must realize—as the United States realized during its own wars in the region—that its actions will be measured against those commitments.

The IDF’s history of being deployed as an occupation force, particularly in southern Lebanon and the Palestinian territories, has coarsened it and led to strikingly callous and deadly applications of force. Some of its soldiers engage in crimes and abuses that may be commonplace in wartime, but whose public exposure understandably erodes international support. Pictures on social media show Israeli soldiers laughing and joking while destroying the belongings of Palestinian civilians. Those videos and images are copied, pasted, and widely broadcast across the world, giving further fuel to Israel’s opponents, embarrassing Israel’s few remaining allies, and leaving Israel ever more isolated internationally. These soldiers are no doubt operating under high levels of stress. No doubt they are also, like all Israelis, traumatized by the many acts of sadistic cruelty inflicted on the elderly, women, and children by Hamas. But understanding these pressures is not the same as excusing them. A professional army that says it holds itself to Western legal standards must not be governed by the atavistic desire for revenge.

[Photos: Gaza on the brink of famine]

Meanwhile, the physical destruction of Gaza—including housing, schools, and hospitals serving the population there—will make governing the Strip very difficult for whoever attempts it after the shooting stops. I don’t see Palestinians or other Arabs stepping up to take that burden off Israel’s shoulders, so most likely, Israel is making its own life harder by damaging so much necessary infrastructure. For all that Israel appears to be waging a punitive campaign against the people of Gaza, this campaign looks likely to end up punishing Israel as well.

Finally, wars are fought for political ends and are therefore most often judged by their ability to achieve those ends. One week after October 7, the military strategist Lawrence Freedman wrote in the Financial Times: “Israel is trying to develop a military strategy to deal with the Hamas threat while it lacks a political strategy. For the moment it is impossible to identify a future modus vivendi with Gaza. No deals with Hamas will be trusted but nor is there a certain route to eliminate Hamas.”

Five months later, the problem is the same: Israel has neither a military strategy for eliminating Hamas nor a political strategy for living with Gaza. A long-term agreement with the Palestinians is hard to imagine at a time when Israel’s left camp—already decimated by the Second Intifada two decades ago, in which Hamas and other groups launched a series of suicide bombings against civilian targets in order to undermine the possibility of a two-state solution—has seen its remaining domestic credibility shattered by the Hamas attacks. And Hamas, of course, has promised, again and again, to keep fighting until Israel is destroyed.

The picture here is bleak, but this conflict could conceivably create opportunities for Israel. For example, Saudi Arabia has floated the prospect of diplomatic recognition in exchange for a Palestinian state. But Israeli domestic politics are fractious, particularly regarding the question of Palestinian autonomy in Gaza and the West Bank—a crucial point for any prime minister seeking to take advantage of such opportunities.

Israel is in fact headed in the opposite direction at the moment: It will need years, perhaps even decades, to recover from the traumas of October 7 before its leaders will be able to show the same courage in confronting the political right as the IDF has shown in confronting Hamas. Israeli politics are especially febrile and plastic at the moment, but the right seems unlikely to be disempowered in the near future, even if Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu is somehow dethroned. By the time realistic politics take hold, whatever opportunities this horrible war creates for Israel may have been lost.

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Last spring, Russian President Vladimir Putin said he would station nuclear weapons in neighboring Belarus. Evidence suggests that this move is imminent, but it is strategically meaningless.

First, here are four new stories from The Atlantic:

Why Oregon’s drug decriminalization failed DNA tests are uncovering the true prevalence of incest. Is the destruction of Gaza making Israel any safer? Jake Tapper: Finally, justice for C. J. Rice

Cold War Games

Last week, Foreign Policy reported that Putin was in the process of making good on his announcement from last spring to station Russian nuclear arms in Belarus, thus putting Russia’s nuclear-strike forces that much closer to both Ukraine and NATO. Foreign Policy attributed the news to “Western officials,” but so far, only Lithuania’s defense minister has offered a public confirmation. Belarusian President Alexander Lukashenko claimed in December that weapons had arrived in his country, but no public evidence confirmed that assertion, and so far, no Western governments or intelligence services have commented on this news.

What intelligence analysts are likely seeing at a base they’ve been watching in the Belarusian town of Asipovichy, however, are the kinds of preparations one might expect when nuclear weapons are on the move. Nuclear warheads cannot just be stashed in an armory; their presence requires special infrastructure measures (fences, guard units, and other signs) that are relatively easy to spot.

If this news is confirmed—and it is certainly possible it will be—how much would such a move change the situation in Europe, and especially Russia’s danger to the North Atlantic Alliance? And why would Putin do this at all?

The answer to the first question, as I wrote last spring, is that moving short-range nuclear missiles means virtually nothing as a military issue. Right now Russia can hit anything it wants in Europe or North America without shuffling around a single weapon. The Kremlin has options to attack NATO bases with small weapons launched over a matter of a few hundred miles, or it could destroy New York and Washington with city-killing warheads launched from the heart of Russia. (The U.S. and NATO have the same options against Russia, and the same kinds of weapons.) As Rose Gottemoeller, the former deputy secretary-general of NATO, told Foreign Policy, moving Russian nuclear arms into Belarus “does not change the threat environment at all.”

This may seem counterintuitive: How can moving nuclear weapons closer to NATO have so little effect on the overall threat to the West? In purely military terms, the answer lies in the nature of nuclear weapons and the systems Russia has deployed for years in the region.

Nuclear weapons are not merely super-artillery with better range and more destructive power. Mounted on short-range missiles, it doesn’t matter where they begin their journey; the target nation will see them only after launch and have no chance of evading what is about to happen in only a few minutes. A missile from Russia or a missile from Belarus makes no difference; Russia already borders Ukraine and NATO, and moving some short-range missiles further west into another nation that shares the same borders is, in a strictly military sense, meaningless.

More to the point, no matter where those launches come from, they can happen only with Putin’s finger on the trigger in Moscow. If Russia has placed nuclear arms in Belarus, it confirms only that Belarus really is one of Putin’s imperial holdings, and that Lukashenko is little more than a Kremlin subcontractor whose power is mostly limited to abusing Belarusians. (Consider the fate of the mutinous Russian military contractor Yevgeny Prigozhin, who rebelled against Putin and then apparently relied on Lukashenko’s word in a deal for safe passage in the summer of 2023. He was later assassinated anyway when Putin’s regime blew Prigozhin from the sky as he flew over Russia, according to U.S. intelligence.)

Besides, if Putin means to start and fight (and die in) a nuclear war, he needs nothing from Lukashenko, and he gains nothing from moving some of his nuclear arsenal to Belarus. If anything, the Kremlin is buying itself some extra security and transportation headaches by moving nukes around—and doing so under the prying eyes of multiple Western intelligence agencies. It’s not a smart play, but neither was the decision to mount a full-scale invasion of Ukraine.

Why, then, is Putin doing this?

Putin is a product both of the Soviet political system in which he grew up and the Cold War that ended in the defeat of his beloved U.S.S.R. He is counting on anything involving the phrase nuclear weapons to provoke sweaty teeth-clenching in the West, because that’s how it was done in the Bad Old Days. During the Cold War, both the United States and the Soviet Union used nuclear weapons to signal seriousness and commitment. (In 1973, for example, the Nixon administration increased America’s nuclear-alert status to warn the Kremlin off sending Soviet troops to intervene in the Yom Kippur War.)

And because Putin is not a particularly insightful strategist, he probably believes that deploying short-range missiles in Belarus will serve as a kind of Jedi hand-wave that will intimidate the West and make Russia seem strong and willing to take risks. But he is drawing the wrong lessons from the Cold War: The U.S. positioned nuclear weapons in allied nations far forward in Western Europe not only to emphasize the shared risks of the alliance but also because advancing Soviet forces would place NATO in a use-or-lose nuclear dilemma. Putting nuclear weapons in the path of a Soviet invasion was a deterrent strategy meant to warn Moscow that Western commanders, facing rapid defeat, might have to launch before being overrun.

No one, however, is going to invade Belarus anytime soon. No matter what happens in Ukraine, Russia’s weapons will rot in their bunkers in Asipovichy unless Putin decides to use them. And if he makes that decision, then he—and the world—will have bigger issues to deal with than whether Alexander Lukashenko is bravely joining the defense of the Russian Motherland. (Lukashenko claims he has a veto over the use of the Russian weapons. Fat chance.) At that point, Putin will have chosen national (and personal) suicide, and once again, some nuclear missiles in Belarus aren’t going to matter that much. But Putin and his circle—many of whom lived at least part-time in the West with their families before sanctions and travel bans were imposed—almost certainly fear that outcome as much as anyone else does. (Even many of the stoic Soviet generals, it turns out, were riven by such fears, as any rational human being would be.)

I was one of the people who two years ago cautioned the West against doing anything that would allow Putin to escalate his way out of his disastrous bungles and string of defeats in Ukraine. A nuclear giant fighting a neighbor on the border of a nuclear-armed alliance is inherently dangerous, even if no one wants a wider war. But where this Belarus nuclear caper is concerned, the U.S. and NATO should undertake two clear responses: First, they should roll their eyes at Putin’s clumsy nuclear theatrics. Second, they should step up aid to Ukraine.

Related:

Putin’s rabble of “thin-necked henchmen” What’s happening in Russia is not an election.

Today’s News

Donald Trump and his co-defendants could not make the $464 million bond in their New York civil fraud case after failing to find an insurance company that would underwrite the bond, according to Trump’s lawyers. Putin won his fifth term in an election that was widely denounced for having an undemocratic process; he will lead Russia for another six years. The Biden administration finalized a ban on the last type of asbestos that is still known to be used in some roofing materials, textiles, cement, and automotive parts in the United States. The ban set a phaseout timeline for usage in manufacturing that will take more than a decade.

Evening Read

Carol M. Highsmith / Buyenlarge / Getty

Scientists Are Moving Forests North

By John Tibbetts

On a brisk September morning, Brian Palik’s footfalls land quietly on a path in flickering light, beneath a red-pine canopy in Minnesota’s iconic Northwoods. A mature red pine, also called Norway pine, is a tall, straight overstory tree that thrives in cold winters and cool summers. It’s the official Minnesota state tree and a valued target of its timber industry.

But red pine’s days of dominance here could fade.

Read the full article.

More From The Atlantic

What Caitlin Clark’s fans are missing Kanye’s creepy comeback Josh Barro: Sonia Sotomayor should retire now. A suspicious pattern alarming the Ukrainian military The drama kings of tech Why Biden’s pro-worker stance isn’t working “All we must do is survive four years.”

Culture Break

Illustration by Matteo Giuseppe Pani. Source: Getty.

Read. Hwang Bo-reum’s debut novel, Welcome to the Hyunam-dong Bookshop, follows a character who quits her corporate job to open a bookstore—only to discover that resisting the culture of work takes work too.

Try this tip. Atlantic staff writer Charlie Warzel recently met a friend who gave him a key piece of advice on the smart way to order good wine at a restaurant.

Play our daily crossword.

P.S.

Speaking of nuclear weapons—and I wish we weren’t—it’s important to understand how the Cold War shaped the arms race and produced the nuclear systems and strategies that are still with us today. I will immodestly suggest taking a look at the new Netflix documentary series Turning Point: The Bomb and the Cold War. I say “immodestly” because I’m in most of the episodes; in my previous life, I was a professor at the Naval War College, and I’ve written books about the Cold War, Russia, and nuclear weapons. (And unlike in my Emmy-snubbed star turn in Succession, I actually speak in Turning Point.) The series has several experts and former policy makers in it, and some fascinating archival footage.

Those of us who participated would probably disagree here and there on some of the points in the series, but that’s part of what makes it worth watching, especially if you pair it with a good general history of the Cold War. I would suggest something by John Gaddis or Odd Arne Westad, among others, but on nuclear issues, there’s no better and more readable history than John Newhouse’s War and Peace in the Nuclear Age, which was the companion volume to a PBS series many years ago. It’s out of print now, but used copies are still available online.

— Tom

Stephanie Bai contributed to this newsletter.

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