Annie Lowrey

At 10 p.m. in early July, Long Island was sweltering under a heat dome. As bedroom lights dimmed and heavy clouds rolled in, a raccoon ambled onto the porch of a split-level home, found a crack in a sliding door, and slipped inside. He tongue-polished a lasagna tray on the floor near the kitchen counter before waddling back into the damp fug of the summer night.
Soon after, a raccoon with a facial scar and a thin tail entered, ate a snack, and flopped down for a nap.

A few years ago, Ken Schumacher was working for a technology company. Part of his job involved assessing potential hires: hopping on a Zoom call, giving an applicant an engineering test (kind of like a crossword puzzle with code instead of words), and going on “mute for an hour” as the applicant struggled through it.
Except many of the candidates weren’t struggling. The firm’s exercises were getting posted on sites such as Glassdoor.

Zohran Mamdani will be New York City’s next mayor. The Queens assembly member has rocketed from local political obscurity to national political celebrity in less than a year, making bumper-stickery campaign promises aimed at alleviating the city’s cost-of-living crisis. Fast, free buses. A freeze on rents. Municipal grocery stores. Universal child care.

Donald Trump is altering the tax code for the benefit of millionaires and billionaires. That is the simplest conclusion to draw from the passage of the One Big Beautiful Bill Act earlier this summer, and not an incorrect one. Yet the bill also does something stranger and harder to parse, and something that might prove a more perilous threat to the country’s finances in the long term.

Harris started looking for his first real job months before his graduation from UC Davis this spring. He had a solid résumé, he thought: a paid internship at a civic-consulting firm, years of volunteering at environmental-defense organizations, experience working on farms and in parks as well as in offices, a close-to-perfect GPA, strong letters of recommendation. He would move anywhere on the West Coast, living out of his car if he had to.

In 2023, the United States produced $28 trillion worth of goods and services. The average family had a net worth of $192,900. Shares in American companies accounted for more than half of global-market capitalization. Yet one in eight Americans lived in poverty, as did one in seven children.
The best way we have to help those people is to give them money.

Anne Romatowski noticed a small, soft something in the flesh below her collarbone just before Christmas. She wasn’t concerned. It was a bump on her uppermost ribs, not a lump in her breast. Still, she figured that she might as well schedule the routine mammogram she had been putting off for 10 months.
By the time her appointment came around—on a frigid Thursday afternoon, the day before Valentine’s Day—she had other worries.

“It almost feels like we’re trying to rebuild everything from scratch,” Michael Wieder told me.
The company he co-founded, Lalo, sells sleekly designed baby gear, much of it made in China. In his first weeks in office, Donald Trump increased the tariff rate on most of the company’s imported goods by 20 percentage points. In April, he jacked the rate up to 145 percent. Lalo had to stop bringing in products from overseas: Paying the tariff could have bankrupted the company.

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Step one: Start a pointless, globe-encompassing trade war, rationalized solely by your own boneheaded innumeracy. Step two: Tank the markets. Step three: Pare the war back to a hot conflict with one of the United States’ most important trading partners and a warm conflict with every other country on Earth. Step four: Watch the market rebound and declare victory.

On the campaign trail last fall, President Donald Trump promised a “new era of soaring income, skyrocketing wealth, millions and millions of new jobs, and a booming middle class. We are going to boom like we’ve never boomed before.” On Fox News this weekend, he promised a “period of transition.” He added: “It takes a little time. But I think it should be great for us. I mean, I think it should be great.” When the host asked, “Are you expecting a recession this year?” he didn’t say no.

Richard Tikey builds coke-oven doors for U.S. Steel. He’s a union guy, through and through: He’s been a union member for 26 years, and is now the vice president of his local, the United Steelworkers 1557 in Clairton, Pennsylvania. He has spent much of his adult life voting for Democrats.
Kamala Harris and Joe Biden lobbied hard for votes like Tikey’s. The Biden administration increased tariffs on foreign steel and spent hundreds of billions on heavy infrastructure.

Earlier this month, the chief executive officer of UnitedHealthcare was assassinated during morning rush hour on a busy block in Midtown Manhattan; the alleged killer’s confession went viral, in particular the line “the US has the #1 most expensive healthcare system in the world, yet we rank roughly #42 in life expectancy.”
The murder led to a mass airing of grievances with American insurers and, among those who felt that the industry had it coming, a haunting moment of collective glee.

No federal agency is as hated as the IRS, and perhaps no federal agency deserves so much hate.
The average American spends 13 hours a year completing the agency’s ugly, indecipherable forms. The process is so onerous that Americans fork over $10 billion annually to tax preparers, who nevertheless screw up an estimated 60 percent of their clients’ returns. The IRS audits low-income working families more often than it audits all but the very richest families.

The Biden administration passed $3 trillion of legislation aimed at revitalizing the American economy and fostering green, equitable, “middle-out” growth. It sent checks to voters, canceled student-loan debt, made direct deposits to parents, showered the country in tax credits, and financed the construction of roads, transmission lines, and bridges.

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Donald Trump is heading back to the White House. He has inflation to thank.
In poll after poll, focus group after focus group, Americans said the economy was bad—and the economy was bad because prices were too high. This was always going to be a problem for Kamala Harris.

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The twinge begins in the afternoon: toes. At my desk, toes, itching. Toes, toes, toes.
I don’t normally think about my toes. But as I commute home in a crowded subway car, my feet are burning, and I cannot reach them. Even if I could, what would I do with my sneakers? My ankles are itchy too.

Joe Biden is, at the moment, losing his reelection campaign. And he is doing so while presiding over the strongest economy the United States has ever experienced.
The jobless rate is below 4 percent, as it has been for nearly two and a half years. Wage growth is moderating, but it is higher than it was at any point during the Obama administration; overall, Biden has overseen stronger pay increases than any president since Richard Nixon.

Inflation, finally, has cooled off. Prices have increased 2.5 percent over the past year, down from increases as high as 7 percent during the early pandemic. Rents are high but stabilizing. The cost of groceries is ticking up, not surging, and some goods, such as eggs, are actually getting cheaper. But American consumers are still stretching to afford one big-ticket item: their cars.

Holding her infant patients, Dr. Mona Hanna-Attisha felt a deep sense of frustration. “I’m doing everything I’m supposed to do as a pediatrician,” she told me, describing counseling her patients’ parents about vaccines, a healthy diet, safe sleeping, and car seats. But Hanna-Attisha practices in Flint, the poorest city in Michigan and one in which more than half of children grow up in poverty.

The Department of Housing and Urban Development is the agency responsible, one would imagine, for housing and urban development. Over the past two decades, America has done far too little urban development—and far too little suburban and rural development as well. The ensuing housing shortage has led to rising rents, a surge in homelessness, a decline in people’s ability to move for a relationship or a job, and much general misery.

Earlier this year, I moved from San Francisco to New York with my dogs, kids, and husband. My family rented an apartment. And once we figured out that we liked it here and wanted to stay, we looked to buy a place.For roughly 11 minutes, before realizing that literally any other activity would be a better use of our time. Brooklyn has 1.1 million housing units. Just a dozen of them seemed to fit our requirements and were sitting on the market. All of the options were too expensive.

A decade and change ago, as the world woke up to the catastrophe of climate change, campus activists were looking for ways to heal the environment at scale. They landed on an unusual one: the free market. Climate change is the world’s biggest unpriced externality, in that neither the producers nor the consumers of fossil fuels pay for the damage they cause to the environment. Gas is too cheap; ultimately, every living thing on the planet bears the cost.

Since last spring, roughly 100,000 asylum seekers have arrived in New York City. This is a city of immigrants, welcoming to immigrants, built by immigrants. People who were born abroad make up a third of New York’s population and own more than half of its businesses. Yet the city has struggled to accommodate this wave of new arrivals. Migrants are selling candy on the subways, sleeping on the streets in Midtown, waiting for spots in homeless shelters.

What does Harvard do? What is Yale for? What is Dartmouth’s purpose?The schools themselves have ready answers to those questions. Harvard says it exists to “educate the citizens and citizen-leaders for our society” through the “transformative power of a liberal arts education.

Dr. Dre on the radio, The Matrix on the big screen, The Sopranos on TV: The year 1999 was wonderful for many reasons, including economic ones.That year, the median household income rose to a record level, a watermark that held for nearly two decades. (The average American family was poorer when Donald Trump was running for office than when Bill Clinton left office.) Wages were growing across the board—all kinds of workers were getting consistent raises. Productivity growth was strong.

The chef presents me with a nugget of raw meat, tinged yellowish gray, then takes it back and drops it in a pan. “Today, you’re going to be having our whole-muscle chicken filet,” Daniel Davila tells me, searing the morsel. He lets it rest, chars some tomatoes and scallions, and throws together a beurre-blanc sauce. “Kind of a classic,” Davila says.

Photographs by Venice GordonThe monk paces the Zendo, forecasting the end of the world.Soryu Forall, ordained in the Zen Buddhist tradition, is speaking to the two dozen residents of the monastery he founded a decade ago in Vermont’s far north. Bald, slight, and incandescent with intensity, he provides a sweep of human history. Seventy thousand years ago, a cognitive revolution allowed Homo sapiens to communicate in story—to construct narratives, to make art, to conceive of god.

Last week, the Securities and Exchange Commission filed 13 charges against Binance, the world’s largest crypto exchange, accusing it of mishandling customer funds and a litany of other white-collar crimes. It also charged Coinbase, a public company and the biggest U.S. crypto business, with failing to register as a broker-dealer.

Republicans and Democrats have reached a debt-ceiling deal. Republicans will agree not to blow up the global economy if Democrats trim federal spending over the next two years, claw back money from the Internal Revenue Service, speed up the country’s energy-permitting process, and impose new work requirements on the food-stamp and welfare programs, among other changes.Perhaps this is the best deal the two sides could have reached. Perhaps it is not that big a deal at all.

Whispers about insolvency. A bank run. A desperate attempt to raise funds. A bank failure. Market gyrations. Concerns about financial contagion.History is repeating itself. Today, California regulators shut down Silicon Valley Bank, a lender aimed at start-ups, technology firms, and wealthy individuals. The Federal Deposit Insurance Corporation stepped in as the bank’s receiver.