For much of the post–Cold War era, the Arctic was hailed as a zone of cooperation. Even adversaries found common ground on search and rescue, fisheries, and scientific monitoring in a region where survival demands collaboration. That consensus has fractured. At the center of the disruption is Russia, which now treats Arctic diplomacy not as a platform for shared stewardship, but as a stage to counter its isolation, secure partners, and project power. ...
Donald Trump didn’t invent American interest in Greenland, but he did put it on billboards. In August 2019, after Danish leaders called the idea of selling the island “absurd,” he canceled a planned state visit and posted the now-famous meme—“I promise not to do this to Greenland”—over a Photoshopped Trump Tower jutting from a colorful coastal town. The theatrics were pure Trump; the target was not. Greenland sits on the seam between North America and Eurasia, with critical minerals underfoot and the U.S. military’s northernmost base at Pituffik guarding the polar approach. That mix of spectacle and strategic logic is the through-line of Trump’s Greenland story. (Reuters, The Guardian) ...
I’ve never seen much value in tearing a person down for the sake of it. Savage criticism might feel good in the moment, but it rarely changes minds. What does help is pointing to what could be better—offering constructive criticism that invites reflection and growth. With that in mind, here are five ways President Donald Trump could strengthen his leadership right now. 1. Bipartisanship and Unity America is deeply divided. Trump’s style often sharpens those divides. But the presidency carries a unique opportunity to build bridges. If Trump works with Democrats on shared priorities—like infrastructure, veterans’ care, or the opioid crisis—he can show that unity is not weakness but strength. ...
I’m not chasing a fantasy of elsewhere. I’m chasing a better use of my remaining time. Albania keeps coming up because it offers something I can’t seem to buy in the States at any reasonable price: a quieter life that still feels alive. What I want is simple. I want mornings that begin with a short walk to coffee, not a long drive to errands. I want a budget that buys time—time to write, read, and call the people I love—rather than buying square footage I barely use. I want streets that reward curiosity, not speed. Albania, from Tirana’s café lanes to the Adriatic towns, looks like a place built for human pace. ...
If caring about people makes me woke, then I’ll wear the word like a medal. Somewhere along the way, a simple idea—that we should stay alert to injustice and aware of the struggles of others—was dragged through the mud. The word “woke” didn’t come from politicians or pundits; it came from ordinary people warning each other to keep their eyes open, to see the truth, to act with compassion. It was a call to vigilance, not a declaration of war. I don’t believe being woke is a cause for shame. I believe shame belongs to those who mock it. ...
Last Saturday, as President Trump celebrated his 79th birthday with a military parade in Washington, D.C.—funded by private donors at a reported cost of $25–45 million—something far larger and more democratic was unfolding across the country. In all 50 states, in U.S. territories, and even abroad, the No Kings movement organized what may be the largest single-day protest in American history. Backed by more than 200 organizations—including Indivisible, the 50501 Movement, ACLU, MoveOn, Working Families Party, and the American Federation of Teachers—the protest united an estimated 4 to 6 million people across more than 2,100 locations. ...
In an era of rising disinformation, polarization, and institutional decay, it is no longer hyperbole to say that American liberal democracy is under serious threat. The freedoms and norms that once formed the backbone of this republic are being eroded from both within and without. But despite these dangers, or perhaps because of them, it is worth fighting to preserve what remains—and rebuild what has been lost. At its core, liberal democracy rests on three foundational principles: free and fair elections, the rule of law, and the protection of individual rights. These aren’t abstract ideals. They are the reason civil rights movements succeeded, the reason journalists can hold the powerful to account, and the reason a citizen’s vote matters. When these principles are weakened, everyone suffers—not just the politically engaged, but ordinary people whose lives depend on fair governance. ...
The first time I truly understood what rage could do to a man, I wasn’t watching the news or reading some philosophical text. I was standing in my own home, unmoored by betrayal. I had just found out that my first wife was involved with someone else, a friend of a friend. No slow unraveling. No explanation. Just a blunt, soul-jarring truth that hit me like a punch to the chest. I remember the heat crawling up my neck. My hands trembling. My vision narrowing like I was looking through a straw. I don’t remember exactly what I said—I only remember the volume. The force. The aftermath. ...
Justice rarely disappears in a single dramatic act. More often, it bends. It bends for the well-connected defendant whose mistake is treated as youthful indiscretion. It bends for the executive whose failure is rewarded with a bonus while workers carry the cost. It bends for the public official whose conduct would ruin an ordinary person’s career. It bends whenever rules remain formally intact but consequences are distributed according to power. ...
We often think of ourselves as the end result of history’s long arc. The inheritors. The living echoes of those who came before. And while that’s true, it’s not the whole truth. Because we’re not just descendants—we’re ancestors, too. Whether we acknowledge it or not, we are laying the foundation for lives we will never see. The future isn’t some abstract idea waiting to arrive—it’s being shaped by the sum of our decisions, right now. Every time we choose convenience over conscience, or courage over comfort, we are setting the terms of tomorrow’s world. That makes us architects. Stewards. For better or worse, we are becoming the stories future generations will tell about how it all turned out. Will they see us as the ones who looked away—or the ones who stepped up? ...