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Last week, Taylor Swift released four brand-new songs—and the public immediately panned them. What happened to the world’s biggest pop star, and what are we to make of her latest pivot? This week on Second Thought, Swift expert Matthew Jordan sits down with Suzy Weiss and Dan Ahdoot to break down all you need to know about The Life of a Showgirl: The En…

It’s much harder to kill an otherwise healthy adult human being than you probably think. Gunshot wounds (most of them self-inflicted or accidental) have an overall mortality rate right around 15 percent—higher if the shot is in the head, but still shockingly far from 100 percent. If you are bitten by a rattlesnake in America, your chance of dying is less than one in 600. The five-year survival rate for malignant brain cancer is around 33 percent.

All of which partly explains why there is such a thing as a “botched execution.”

The subject is in the news due to the attempted lethal injection of Christa Pike on September 30, by the state of Tennessee, which convicted her three decades ago of killing Colleen Slemmer, a classmate, in an especially brutal way. After two different injections of pentobarbital, Pike remained alive and reportedly conscious for much of it, and she was rushed by ambulance to a nearby hospital. It was the second botched execution by lethal injection in the state this year. The governor of Tennessee, Bill Lee, has now ordered a pause on all executions for the remainder of the year and ordered what the Johnson City Press calls “a review of the state’s policies on how it puts people to death.”

I first arrived in Iraq in June 2004, as the insurgency in al-Anbar Province was raging. I was a newly minted Marine lieutenant leading a rifle platoon. At full strength, our platoon should’ve had about 40 Marines. Like most platoons in our battalion, we deployed at less than full strength. As the battalion we replaced got ready to rotate back to the States, a call went out for volunteers to extend their tours and bring us to full strength. Very few did. But one of those volunteers, a tall sandy-haired corporal named Bill Dean, wound up in our platoon.

When I first met Dean, I asked him why he’d chosen to keep fighting. He didn’t talk about 9/11 or weapons of mass destruction or his belief in a free and democratic Iraq. He gave me a vacant stare and with a dry, ironic wit I would come to appreciate, said, “Gotta keep fighting the GPWD, sir.”

“What’s the GPWD?” I asked.

“The Great Patriotic War in the Desert.”

The withdrawal of all U.S. troops from Iraq this month has me thinking again about the GPWD. During our deployment in Iraq—as we waged counterinsurgency in Haditha and Hit and fought a pitched battle in Fallujah that November—when our orders didn’t make sense or we found ourselves in a tough spot, inevitably someone in the platoon would shrug their shoulders in resignation and say, “Gotta keep fighting the GPWD,” as if the absurdity of that name matched the absurdity of our strategic situation.

Few debates today are as fraught as whether gender identity should override biological sex in law and public life. It turns on questions of women’s safety and fairness, and, increasingly, on free speech: what people are permitted to say, and what they can be compelled to say. Nowhere is that collision sharper than in parts of Europe, where speech deemed hateful or offensive can lead to criminal prosecution.

Dora Moutot, a French feminist writer and activist, was convicted earlier this year of “public insult” over remarks made during a 2022 televised debate with France’s first transgender mayor. She is appealing, and now faces new criminal charges that could carry up to a year in prison. Below is her account of how a TV appearance became a criminal case, and what it reveals about the price of speaking freely in France today. —The Editors

In 2022, I went on a French television show to debate what makes a woman a woman. For expressing my opinion, I have been convicted as a criminal.

The show was Quelle Époque!, a popular talk show, and across from me sat Marie Cau, France’s first transgender mayor. I argued that self-identification laws were potentially dangerous to women. I cited cases of men identifying as trans women who were transferred to women’s prisons, and later committed acts of sexual violence against female inmates. “I’m not saying that all trans people do this—far from it,” I said, “but, as women, we have no choice but to be wary of people with penises.”

When the moderator then asked whether I considered Cau to be a woman, I said that Cau “is a man, a transfeminine man.”

I never could have predicted what would happen next.

Two months after my appearance, three French LGBT nonprofits, all of which receive public funding, filed a criminal complaint against me arguing these statements constituted a “transphobic insult” and could potentially drive many young transgender people to suicide.

In France, this isn’t a civil lawsuit in the American sense, where a private citizen sues another for money and a judge decides who owes what. “Public insult” is a criminal offense, with a maximum punishment of one year in prison and a fine of up to €45,000 for insults committed against a person because of their sex, sexual orientation, gender identity, or disability. And under French law, private parties have the right to initiate criminal prosecutions themselves.

Dear Abigail,

My husband and I are struggling deeply with the question of whether or not we want more kids. We have two beautiful, healthy, wonderful boys, who are 3 and 1. We’ve had a blast with parenting so far; these years with young kids have been a lot more fun than we thought they’d be. I loved the baby stage, and would really enjoy another. But, of course, babies grow up, and we’re debating on the logistics of adding another child—another whole person—into the mix.

Mostly, my husband is worried about timing. He dreams about biking, hiking, and traveling with our boys, and worries another child, two years younger at the very least, would slow down the adventures he might have with the older two. He’s excited for the things we can do with older, more independent kids, and he doesn’t want to hold them back. He also worries that the dynamics of three might be hard, with one being left out, especially if we end up having another boy. Finances are a concern, obviously, as are the sheer logistics of managing three young kids, since my husband tends to travel for work a lot, leaving me home alone with the boys (which I don’t resent—it’s part of our familial bargain—but it is hard to imagine parenting on my own with ANOTHER small body to keep safe, fed, and happy).

I also worry about the process of pregnancy and nursing again, namely being big and round for another season, while having to chase around TWO small children. Both pregnancies took a significant toll on my health, changing my body in permanent and unpleasant ways (not just weight gain, but issues that impact my daily comfort and will likely require surgery). Again, there’s no resentment; it’s just the facts.

But deep down, I don’t feel done. I love the idea of a big, noisy, happy family. Secretly, I keep wishing I’ll get pregnant by accident (unlikely, with an IUD) just so the decision will be made for me. I worry I’m yearning for another kid out of some sense of nostalgia, or because of baby fever, and would be burdening our family just because I can’t let go of the early years and step into another phase of life.

I know it’s a personal decision that only we can make, but I’d appreciate your tough love. Should we go for another? Or be happy with the two we have?

Thank you,

Conflicted Mama, 35

Dear Conflicted,

You tell me you very much want another child. But you present all the reasons against it: the additional cost, the inconvenience, the limitations on the sorts of trips you can take and the kinds of fun your husband can have with the big brothers while you’re lugging a newborn around.

I cannot tell you whether to have another child. There’s a lot to consider, not least your health and the absolute necessity of you and your husband deciding this as a couple. But I do want to help. So allow me to take the other side—assign myself the role of advocate for the future third—and offer some of the hidden pleasures of having one more.

It’s Thursday, October 1. This is The Front Page, your daily window into the world of The Free Press—and our take on the world at large. Today: Senators Dave McCormick and John Fetterman unveil a bipartisan plan for winning the AI age. Niall Ferguson and Luke Nichter on how they have unlocked unheard recordings of Richard Nixon. Douglas Murray on Israel’s victories. And much more.

But first: Mob rules.

Innocent until proven guilty? Here in the age of social media, where posters view themselves as judge and jury, that long ago became a quaint concept. A short clip of a man and woman kissing at a Coldplay concert turns into days of mockery and denunciation. A woman tells a tasteless joke about AIDS in Africa; it goes viral, and she loses her job. A father runs a marathon a few months after the deaths of his children, and the internet decides it’s proof he killed them. And after it’s had its pound of flesh, the mob moves on to the next “outrage,” leaving those whose lives it damaged to pick up the pieces.

Today we’re bringing you two articles about people who were wrongly subjected to the hysteria that social media generates with such ease—examples of the mob at its worst.

First up, Frannie Block has a scoop about a terrible case of mistaken identity after a man named Matthew Ingalls was sued in the Cornell 7 case. In fact, a Matthew Ingalls is one of the Cornell 7, but the man on the receiving end of the lawsuit is a Marine sergeant who never attended the university and had nothing to do with the case. Not that it has mattered. Once his name was disclosed, the internet vigilantes went about the business of making his life—and his family’s—miserable. “Do the world a favor and kill yourself,” said one text. Ingalls’ mother Victoria told Frannie that while she understands the public’s outrage, “we just want to be left alone.” Read her report:

Our second story is by Erika Alvarez. You may have seen a video of Erika on social media recently. She went viral after she was briefly caught on television during a San Francisco Giants game bringing ballpark food to her husband with a baby strapped to her front. Once again, the mob jumped to unwarranted conclusions, deciding that any man who sat there while his overburdened wife brought him food must be a terrible husband—a “deadbeat” who didn’t deserve Erika and should probably (of course) kill himself.

Erika tells the real story, both of what happened at the game that evening, and why the father of their two children doesn’t deserve the abuse he’s received online. “Going viral has shown me firsthand that we have become quick to vilify people from a brief clip, filling in everything we cannot see with assumptions,” Erika writes. “If our viral moment contributes anything to the ongoing cultural conversation about how we judge what we see online, I hope it reminds us to be more comfortable saying, ‘I don’t know the whole story.’ ” —Joe Nocera

On Wednesday morning, Israel narrowly averted tragedy when travelers aboard a plane bound for Tel Aviv thwarted an attempted hijacking by the co-pilot, a suspected terrorist. How did average citizens muster the courage to pull off such a feat? In an exclusive interview with The Free Press, Yaniv Hayoun, one of the heroes of the incident, described how he and a group of fellow passengers stormed the cockpit—and why they prevailed. In case you missed it, read what he said here:

Yesterday’s near-miss came as Israel prepares to mark three years since the October 7 attack. It is a reminder, writes Douglas Murray, that for all the talk about Israel “los[ing] the PR war,” it is also locked in an actual war against enemies trying to kill its citizens. And when it comes to that more important fight, Douglas reminds us, Israel has seen remarkable success. Read his column on why that victory is more important than the approval of the country’s critics:

• British prime minister Andy Burnham said Wednesday that his government believes Iran played a part in a recent attack on an English air base. Local authorities arrested five suspects Sunday (who have since made bail), but they are continuing to investigate the nature of the incident.

• The UK government has also accused a Chinese research institute of operating as a front for the country’s intelligence agency. The organization, known as the China General Technology Research Institute, reportedly financed projects designed to steal information about artificial intelligence, while hiding its ties to Beijing.

• The Federal Trade Commission (FTC) is launching an investigation into Anthropic and OpenAI. The agency is believed to be probing the safety of their models, as industry experts continue to raise concerns about their products.

• A new report from the Federal Reserve’s watchdog found no evidence of misconduct or illegal activity in the renovations of the central bank’s headquarters. The 120-page document cited several missteps in the $2.5 billion project, but none that rose to the level of prosecution.

• Senate Democrats voted to block a GOP-led data center bill on Wednesday that would have tech companies pay for the increased energy costs from their facilities, rather than local residents. Many on the Republican side argued the legislation would help Americans defray their expenses, but Democrats argued the bill wasn’t strong enough to impose sufficient reforms on data centers.

• Citadel’s chief executive Ken Griffin announced a $2 billion donation to Carnegie Mellon University, which he hopes will go toward the construction of a new campus in Miami. Griffin’s contribution marks the largest donation to higher education in American history.

Recently, a 27-year-old Anthropic employee posted on X that AI could end humanity.

All hell broke loose. The post has since been viewed more than 170 million times; it prompted some AI leaders to endorse a slowdown in development; and it pushed AI doomerism into mainstream political and media debate.

We are two United States senators from different parties, but we agree that a social media–driven meltdown and partisan posturing will solve nothing. We can’t govern by X post.

Instead, what is required is a clear, bipartisan, country-over-party assessment of the risks of AI, informed by three inescapable realities: the inevitability of the AI revolution; the existential stakes of the AI race with China; and the limits of our understanding of the technology.

At 8 p.m. on Saturday night, Victoria Ingalls heard a banging sound at her front door.

There was a man standing outside her house in upstate New York. “Is Matthew Ingalls your son?” he asked.

Victoria’s son is an active-duty sergeant in the Marine Corps. “My heart went in my throat,” she told me. She assumed she was about to hear the news that every military family dreads.

Instead, the man handed her an envelope with a 101-page lawsuit inside, accusing her son of being among seven Cornell university students who allegedly raped and sexually abused a female student, identified as Jane Doe, over the course of seven hours at the Chi Phi fraternity house in October 2024.

But Victoria’s son, 23, never attended Cornell. The court, the family soon figured out, had served the wrong Matthew Ingalls and had added the Ingalls’ home address to the official docket.

Late on the afternoon of April 19, 1971, Richard Nixon picked up the White House telephone and told his deputy attorney general, Richard Kleindienst, to kill a federal antitrust case against the International Telephone and Telegraph Corporation (ITT). “The IT&T thing,” he said, “stay the hell out of it. Is that clear? That’s an order.” When Kleindienst tried to explain the legal complexities, Nixon cut him off: “I know all the legal things, Dick. You don’t have to spell out the legal things.” Then he added a crucial detail: Unless the message got through, he said, the Justice Department’s antitrust chief—the man actually bringing the case—would have his “ass out within one hour.”

The call lasted less than two minutes. It has never before been transcribed in full, cross-referenced with related conversations. Now, thanks to a project we are launching this week with the Hoover Institution, it’s one of thousands that can be.

Listen to the audio of the conversation here:

Have you ever scrolled through Instagram, stopped on a post for a second and thought “What an AWFUL person,” then gone about your day?

Most of us have. Two people caught on a kiss cam at a concert get accused of being cheaters. A father runs a marathon a few months after the deaths of his children and the internet later decides it’s proof he killed them. We conclude that a couple is miserable or a mother is negligent or a woman is stupid—and then we scroll on.

But those are real people we’re looking at, all of whom are the main characters of their own stories, which for all we know are as complicated as our own lives. We’re telling one of those stories today.

Last week, during a San Francisco Giants game, the broadcast lingered on a woman in the stands at Oracle Park. She was returning to her seat with a baby strapped to her chest and her hands full of ballpark food. Her husband stood to let her in, then sat back down and started eating as one announcer said, “That’s mom of the year right there.”

The clip only lasted a minute, but when it appeared online, it soon racked up hundreds of thousands of views. Strangers decided that the husband was a deadbeat, and that the wife should leave him. Some commenters went so far as to say he should kill himself.

The “mom of the year” is named Erika Alvarez and, still reeling from the experience, she wrote an essay about what the cameras didn’t catch that day. When team Free Press encountered it, we were so moved, we asked if we could reprint it. (Others reacted with skepticism, doubting that Erika was the woman in the clip, or that her story was true, so she wrote a follow-up.) We’re delighted that Erika said yes.

Erika’s story is a necessary reminder of how much context gets stripped from the clips of strangers you see online, reposted by accounts that know nothing about the people in them. And remember there’s always more to the story. The people on our screens have lives that go on long after we glimpse them for a moment. —Freya Sanders

Millions of people have watched me carry my daughter and food back to my seat at a San Francisco Giants game. They have praised me as “mom of the year” and called my husband too many names to list. Some have sent me DMs or posted TikTok commentary videos about why I need to leave him.

My name is Erika. Our baby is Anastasia. My husband is Ramses. Before you decide what our marriage looks like, I would like you to hear from the woman you’re defending.

Ramses is an amazing husband and an even better father. We’ve been part of each other’s lives for nine years, and today we’re raising two under 2 together. I know how he treats me, how he cares for our kids, and what he does for our family. A conversation the audience couldn’t hear became the basis for millions of judgments about that life.