AI-powered apps may be able to use your data (including selfies) to predict your current mental state. | Jaap Arriens/NurPhoto via Getty Images Emerging apps use AI to guess when you’ll be sad. Can they also help you feel better? If you have a sore throat, you can get tested for a host of things — Covid, RSV, strep, the flu — and receive a pretty accurate diagnosis (and maybe even treatment). Even when you’re not sick, vital signs like heart rate and blood pressure give doctors a decent sense of your physical health. But there’s no agreed-upon vital sign for mental health. There may be occasional mental health screenings at the doctor’s office, or notes left behind after a visit with a therapist. Unfortunately, people lie to their therapists all the time (one study estimated that over 90 percent of us have lied to a therapist at least once), leaving holes in their already limited mental health records. And that’s assuming someone can connect with a therapist — roughly 122 million Americans live in areas without enough mental health professionals to go around. But the vast majority of people in the US do have access to a cellphone. Over the last several years, academic researchers and startups have built AI-powered apps that use phones, smart watches, and social media to spot warning signs of depression. By collecting massive amounts of information, AI models can learn to spot subtle changes in a person’s body and behavior that may indicate mental health problems. Many digital mental health apps only exist in the research world (for now), but some are available to download — and other forms of passive data collection are already being deployed by social media platforms and health care providers to flag potential crises (it’s probably somewhere in the terms of service you didn’t read). The hope is for these platforms to help people affordably access mental health care when they need it most, and intervene quickly in times of crisis. Michael Aratow — co-founder and chief medical officer of Ellipsis Health, a company that uses AI to predict mental health from human voice samples — argues that the need for digital mental health solutions is so great, it can no longer be addressed by the health care system alone. “There’s no way that we’re going to deal with our mental health issues without technology,” he said. And those issues are significant: Rates of mental illness have skyrocketed over the past several years. Roughly 29 percent of US adults have been diagnosed with depression at some point in their lives, and the National Institute of Mental Health estimates that nearly a third of US adults will experience an anxiety disorder at some point. While phones are often framed as a cause of mental health problems, they can also be part of the solution — but only if we create tech that works reliably and mitigates the risk of unintended harm. Tech companies can misuse highly sensitive data gathered from people at their most vulnerable moments — with little regulation to stop them. Digital mental health app developers still have a lot of work to do to earn the trust of their users, but the stakes around the US mental health crisis are high enough that we shouldn’t automatically dismiss AI-powered solutions out of fear. How does AI detect depression? To be formally diagnosed with depression, someone needs to express at least five symptoms (like feeling sad, losing interest in things, or being unusually exhausted) for at least two consecutive weeks. But Nicholas Jacobson, an assistant professor in biomedical data science and psychiatry at the Geisel School of Medicine at Dartmouth College, believes “the way that we think about depression is wrong, as a field.” By only looking for stably presenting symptoms, doctors can miss the daily ebbs and flows that people with depression experience. “These depression symptoms change really fast,” Jacobson said, “and our traditional treatments are usually very, very slow.” Even the most devoted therapy-goers typically see a therapist about once a week (and with sessions starting around $100, often not covered by insurance, once a week is already cost-prohibitive for many people). One 2022 study found that only 18.5 percent of psychiatrists sampled were accepting new patients, leading to average wait times of over two months for in-person appointments. But your smartphone (or your fitness tracker) can log your steps, heart rate, sleep patterns, and even your social media use, painting a far more comprehensive picture of your mental health than conversations with a therapist can alone. One potential mental health solution: Collect data from your smartphone and wearables as you go about your day, and use that data to train AI models to predict when your mood is about to dip. In a study co-authored by Jacobson this February, researchers built a depression detection app called MoodCapture, which harnesses a user’s front-facing camera to automatically snap selfies while they answer questions about their mood, with participants pinged to complete the survey three times a day. An AI model correlated their responses — rating in-the-moment feelings like sadness and hopelessness — with these pictures, using their facial features and other context clues like lighting and background objects to predict early signs of depression. (One example: a participant who looks as if they’re in bed almost every time they complete the survey is more likely to be depressed.) The model doesn’t try to flag certain facial features as depressive. Rather, the model looks for subtle changes within each user, like their facial expressions, or how they tend to hold their phone. MoodCapture accurately identified depression symptoms with about 75 percent accuracy (in other words, if 100 out of a million people have depression, the model should be able to identify 75 out of the 100) — the first time such candid images have been used to detect mental illness in this way. In this study, the researchers only recruited participants who were already diagnosed with depression, and each photo was tagged with the participant’s own rating of their depression symptoms. Eventually, the app aims to use photos captured when users unlock their phones using face recognition, adding up to hundreds of images per day. This data, combined with other passively gathered phone data like sleep hours, text messages, and social media posts, could evaluate the user’s unfiltered, unguarded feelings. You can tell your therapist whatever you want, but enough data could reveal the truth. The app is still far from perfect. MoodCapture was more accurate at predicting depression in white people because most study participants were white women — generally, AI models are only as good as the training data they’re provided. Research apps like MoodCapture are required to get informed consent from all of their participants, and university studies are overseen by the campus’s Institutional Review Board (IRB) But if sensitive data is collected without a user’s consent, the constant monitoring can feel creepy or violating. Stevie Chancellor, an assistant professor in computer science and engineering at the University of Minnesota, says that with informed consent, tools like this can be “really good because they notice things that you may not notice yourself.” What technology is already out there, and what’s on the way? Of the roughly 10,000 (and counting) digital mental health apps recognized by the mHealth Index & Navigation Database (MIND), 18 of them passively collect user data. Unlike the research app MoodCapture, none use auto-captured selfies (or any type of data, for that matter) to predict whether the user is depressed. A handful of popular, highly rated apps like Bearable — made by and for people with chronic health conditions, from bipolar disorder to fibromyalgia — track customized collections of symptoms over time, in part by passively collecting data from wearables. “You can’t manage what you can’t measure,” Aratow said. These tracker apps are more like journals than predictors, though — they don’t do anything with the information they collect, other than show it to the user to give them a better sense of how lifestyle factors (like what they eat, or how much they sleep) affect their symptoms. Some patients take screenshots of their app data to show their doctors so they can provide more informed advice. Other tools, like the Ellipsis Health voice sensor, aren’t downloadable apps at all. Rather, they operate behind the scenes as “clinical decision support tools,” designed to predict someone’s depression and anxiety levels from the sound of their voice during, say, a routine call with their health care provider. And massive tech companies like Meta use AI to flag, and sometimes delete, posts about self-harm and suicide. Some researchers want to take passive data collection to more radical lengths. Georgios Christopoulos, a cognitive neuroscientist at Nanyang Technological University in Singapore, co-led a 2021 study that predicted depression risk from Fitbit data. In a press release, he expressed his vision for more ubiquitous data collection, where “such signals could be integrated with Smart Buildings or even Smart Cities initiatives: Imagine a hospital or a military unit that could use these signals to identify people at risk.” This raises an obvious question: In this imagined future world, what happens if the all-seeing algorithm deems you sad? AI has improved so much in the last five years alone that it’s not a stretch to say that, in the next decade, mood-predicting apps will exist — and if preliminary tests continue to look promising, they might even work. Whether that comes as a relief or fills you with dread, as mood-predicting digital health tools begin to move out of academic research settings and into the app stores, developers and regulators need to seriously consider what they’ll do with the information they gather. So, your phone thinks you’re depressed — now what? It depends, said Chancellor. Interventions need to strike a careful balance: keeping the user safe, without “completely wiping out important parts of their life.” Banning someone from Instagram for posting about self-harm, for instance, could cut someone off from valuable support networks, causing more harm than good. The best way for an app to provide support that a user actually wants, Chancellor said, is to ask them. Munmun De Choudhury, an associate professor in the School of Interactive Computing at Georgia Tech, believes that any digital mental health platform can be ethical, “to the extent that people have an ability to consent to its use.” She emphasized, “If there is no consent from the person, it doesn’t matter what the intervention is — it’s probably going to be inappropriate.” Academic researchers like Jacobson and Chancellor have to jump through a lot of regulatory hoops to test their digital mental health tools. But when it comes to tech companies, those barriers don’t really exist. Laws like the US Health Insurance Portability and Accountability Act (HIPAA) don’t clearly cover nonclinical data that can be used to infer something about someone’s health — like social media posts, patterns of phone usage, or selfies. Even when a company says that they treat user data as protected health information (PHI), it’s not protected by federal law — data only qualifies as PHI if it comes from a “healthcare service event,” like medical records or a hospital bill. Text conversations via platforms like Woebot and BetterHelp may feel confidential, but crucial caveats about data privacy (while companies can opt into HIPAA compliance, user data isn’t legally classified as protected health information) often wind up where users are least likely to see them — like in lengthy terms of service agreements that practically no one reads. Woebot, for example, has a particularly reader-friendly terms of service, but at a whopping 5,625 words, it’s still far more than most people are willing to engage with. “There’s not a whole lot of regulation that would prevent folks from essentially embedding all of this within the terms of service agreement,” said Jacobson. De Choudhury laughed about it. “Honestly,” she told me, “I’ve studied these platforms for almost two decades now. I still don’t understand what those terms of service are saying.” “We need to make sure that the terms of service, where we all click ‘I agree’, is actually in a form that a lay individual can understand,” De Choudhury said. Last month, Sachin Pendse, a graduate student in De Choudhury’s research group, co-authored guidance on how developers can create “consent-forward” apps that proactively earn the trust of their users. The idea is borrowed from the “Yes means yes” model for affirmative sexual consent, because FRIES applies here, too: a user’s consent to data usage should always be freely given, reversible, informed, enthusiastic, and specific. But when algorithms (like humans) inevitably make mistakes, even the most consent-forward app could do something a user doesn’t want. The stakes can be high. In 2018, for example, a Meta algorithm used text data from Messenger and WhatsApp to detect messages expressing suicidal intent, triggering over a thousand “wellness checks,” or nonconsensual active rescues. Few specific details about how their algorithm works are publicly available. Meta clarifies that they use pattern-recognition techniques based on lots of training examples, rather than simply flagging words relating to death or sadness — but not much else. These interventions often involve police officers (who carry weapons and don’t always receive crisis intervention training) and can make things worse for someone already in crisis (especially if they thought they were just chatting with a trusted friend, not a suicide hotline). “We will never be able to guarantee that things are always safe, but at minimum, we need to do the converse: make sure that they are not unsafe,” De Choudhury said. Some large digital mental health groups have faced lawsuits over their irresponsible handling of user data. In 2022, Crisis Text Line, one of the biggest mental health support lines (and often provided as a resource in articles like this one), got caught using data from people’s online text conversations to train customer service chatbots for their for-profit spinoff, Loris. And last year, the Federal Trade Commission ordered BetterHelp to pay a $7.8 million fine after being accused of sharing people’s personal health data with Facebook, Snapchat, Pinterest, and Criteo, an advertising company. Chancellor said that while companies like BetterHelp may not be operating in bad faith — the medical system is slow, understaffed, and expensive, and in many ways, they’re trying to help people get past these barriers — they need to more clearly communicate their data privacy policies with customers. While startups can choose to sell people’s personal information to third parties, Chancellor said, “no therapist is ever going to put your data out there for advertisers.” Someday, Chancellor hopes that mental health care will be structured more like cancer care is today, where people receive support from a team of specialists (not all doctors), including friends and family. She sees tech platforms as “an additional layer” of care — and at least for now, one of the only forms of care available to people in underserved communities. Even if all the ethical and technical kinks get ironed out, and digital health platforms work exactly as intended, they’re still powered by machines. “Human connection will remain incredibly valuable and central to helping people overcome mental health struggles,” De Choudhury told me. “I don’t think it can ever be replaced.” And when asked what the perfect mental health app would look like, she simply said, “I hope it doesn’t pretend to be a human.”

Guidance counselor Jacquelyn Indrisano embraces ninth grader Arianna Troville, 16, outside her office at East Boston High School. | Craig F. Walker/Boston Globe via Getty Images A new book on youth suicide clusters offers perspective on prevention. Between 2000 and 2015 in an affluent, predominately white community in the US, 19 young people died by suicide through what’s known as suicide clusters. These clusters refer to an unusually high rate of suicide for a community over a short period of time, often at least two deaths and one suicide attempt, or three deaths. Suicide clusters are an extreme example of youth mental health struggles — an issue that’s been getting more attention since the pandemic and one that’s at the center of an increasingly charged national conversation around social media and phones. Anna Mueller, a sociologist at Indiana University Bloomington, and Seth Abrutyn, a sociologist at the University of British Columbia, recently published Life Under Pressure: The Social Roots of Youth Suicide and What to Do About Them, which explores why these clusters happened and how to prevent more. The researchers embedded themselves within the community (which goes by the pseudonym Poplar Grove) to understand the social conditions that preceded and followed the teenagers’ deaths. Senior policy reporter Rachel Cohen spoke with Mueller and Abrutyn about the youth mental health crisis, the crucial role and responsibility of adults, and how kids take behavioral cues from those around them. This conversation has been lightly edited and condensed for clarity. Rachel Cohen There’s been a lot of confusing and often conflicting reports about youth suicide trends, especially since the pandemic. Can you outline for readers what we know? Anna Mueller Since 2007, rates of youth suicide in the United States have been increasing pretty significantly and substantially. Not all countries around the world are experiencing this, though some others are. With the pandemic, I feel like I have to plead the fifth since the suicide data is still sort of inconclusive. For some kids, the pandemic was really hard in terms of mental health. For others, it actually took some pressures away. Rachel Cohen Do we know why youth suicide in the US started going up in 2007? What are the best theories? Seth Abrutyn It’s a complicated question. As you’re probably aware, there’s been some recent very public academics like Jonathan Haidt and Jean Twenge who have been studying the relationship between social media and mental health, especially among adolescent girls. So there’s some argument that that’s part of it. Of course, that wouldn’t explain why it started in 2007, when social media and smartphones were not really ubiquitous in the way they are now, but it probably plays a role in accelerating or amplifying some of the underlying things that were happening prior. Another part of the explanation might be that efforts to destigmatize mental health have given people greater license to talk about their mental health. So things that may have been hiding are now out there more, though that doesn’t necessarily explain why suicide rates have gone up, but it may help understand the context. Kids today are growing up in an extremely destabilized environment, and the economy is extremely precarious. Add that to the fact that since 2007, LGBTQ kids have been able to be more freely out, which also then causes more attention to them and invites more backlash. Anna Mueller Everybody asks us that, and I’ll be honest with you, it’s my least favorite question because we just don’t have great data to assess any of these theories. A lot of this really just remains speculation. Social media is something important to consider, but I take a little bit of an issue with the theory that it’s what we should solely be focused on. It’s sort of an excuse to ignore other social problems, like the fact that over that same period, rates of school shootings have increased substantially, and now make things like lockdown drills a normal part of our children’s lives. There’s also been increasing awareness that climate change is a fundamental threat to everyone’s ability to survive and that the cost of college has wildly increased. So we have a lot of pretty challenging things going on. Rachel Cohen I was going to ask you about phones — since as you note there’s a ton of debate right now about their role contributing to worsening mental health, but they didn’t really come up in your book. What role did you see phones play in your research on teen suicide? Anna Mueller Phones facilitated kids talking privately and in spaces that adults couldn’t access. And they meant kids had access to information that their parents weren’t aware they received, like kids would often find out a friend had died by suicide by text. I think that’s something adults need to be really aware of — it means the burden is on us to have meaningful conversations with kids about mental health, suicide, and how to get help because we may not be aware when our kid gets hit with some information that’s going to be relevant. Rachel Cohen But did it seem like the smartphones were causing the mental health problems? Seth Abrutyn Social media didn’t even really come up in the book. When we were in the field [back in 2013–2016], Instagram was out, but it was really more a photographic, artistic thing. Instagram wasn’t about influencers, and Facebook, Vine, and Snapchat were around but kids didn’t all have smartphones yet. Flip phones were still quite available. I think in our original fieldwork, a lot of the young adults were far more impacted by the internet, like they sat at home on a laptop or something like that. In our new fieldwork, what we see are kids who carry the internet on their phones wherever they go. Quickly we’ve habituated to the ubiquity of smartphones and social media. Rachel Cohen In your research, some of the teenagers who died by suicide had loving parents, friends, romantic partners. They didn’t necessarily have mental illness. Can you talk about what you learned with respect to risk factors and protective factors? Anna Mueller In the community where we were working, it was a lot of popular kids who had seemingly perfect lives who were dying by suicide. Some of them probably did have undiagnosed mental illnesses, you know, there was some evidence that they were struggling with things like deep depression or eating disorders or other things. But it was never visible. And so what the community saw was this perfect kid just gone for no reason. It is tough, because on the one hand, what we learned was that this community had really intense expectations for what a good kid and a good family and a good life looked like. And so for kids who didn’t have a lot of life experience to know that there are a lot of options out there for how else to be in this world — they really struggled. Things that helped were having family or other adult mentors who could put things in perspective. Rachel Cohen Life Under Pressure is about youth suicide clusters, and I wanted to ask if you could talk more about this idea of “social contagion,” which comes up several times in your book. It seems community leaders were really nervous about saying or doing the wrong thing in the wake of a youth suicide for fear of contributing to another teenager deciding to take their own life. What does the research on social contagion in this context look like? Anna Mueller Exposure to suicide, either the attempt or death of somebody that a kid cares about — whether they admire them, identify with them, or really love them — can be a pretty painful experience. Suicide is often about escaping pain, and so seeing people role model suicide can increase that vulnerability for kids. Our work suggests that it’s not just pre-existing risk factors, there’s something uniquely painful about exposure to suicide that can introduce suicide as a new way to cope. Seth Abrutyn If we take a step back, suicide is just like almost anything else. Smoking cigarettes, watching television, all the things that we end up doing and liking — a lot of it we’re learning from the people around us. And people are exceptionally vulnerable to influential others. That could be someone that’s very high status that we look up to like a popular kid in school, or it could just be a really close friend that we trust a lot. In the community, where there are these high-status popular kids dying by suicide, if the messaging is not done correctly by adults, if we don’t have adults who can actually help talk through what’s going on and help kids grieve appropriately, the story can easily become, well, for kids who are under pressure and feel distressed, suicide is an option. Rachel Cohen The idea of social contagion has been coming up a lot in debates around youth gender transition too. Some adults say kids are being unduly influenced by their friends and social media regarding things like taking puberty blockers or pursuing gender-affirming surgeries. Other research contests the idea that social contagion is a factor, and some advocates say even the suggestion that gender identity may be susceptible to peer influence is offensive. Does your research in this area offer us any insights here, any more nuanced ways to think about this? Anna Mueller I’m not answering this. We can’t answer this. Sorry. We have ongoing work, and we can’t go there. And I don’t know the literature and we can’t go there. Rachel Cohen Okay, so you don’t think it’s applicable — the social contagion research you’ve studied in the youth suicide context — to other contexts? Seth Abrutyn The only thing I would say is I think the word “contagion” is the word that’s problematic. We’ve tried to actually change that in our own research, and there’s pushback because it’s relatively accepted. It has a sort of folk meaning that everybody can kind of grasp on. The problem is it sounds like how people get the flu in a dormitory, right? But just because everyone shares a heating system and air conditioning system doesn’t mean it will spread like wildfire. Sociologists don’t think of it that way. When behaviors and beliefs spread, it’s usually because people talk about them with each other, or watch people do something and then talk about it. And then they can text that to their friends and talk about it with each other, and in that sense it is contagious, if you want to call it that. I would call it more like diffusion. Rachel Cohen Part of your book is about the need to talk more openly about mental health issues. There’s been this public conversation recently about whether there’s been inadvertent consequences in the push to destigmatize mental illness, with one being that young people may now have become so familiar with the language and frameworks of psychiatric illness that youth can get locked into seeing themselves as unwell. Oxford professor Lucy Foulkes coined the term prevalence inflation to describe the way that some people consume so much information about anxiety disorders that they begin to interpret normal problems of life as signs of decline in mental health, and she warned of self-fulfilling spirals. Psychology professor Darby Saxbe also noted that teenagers, who are still developing their identities, may be particularly susceptible to taking psychological labels to heart. I wanted to invite you to weigh in on these questions and debate. Anna Mueller I’m not sure that I find that idea to be really useful. One of the problems with adults right now is that we’re not listening to the pain that kids are experiencing, or taking it seriously. If I were to advocate for something, I would advocate for seriously listening to kids about their struggles and sources of pain, and working to build a world where kids feel like they matter. Obviously, helping kids build resiliency is incredibly important. We can do a better job at helping our kids navigate challenges, and I’m an advocate of letting kids fail, the road shouldn’t just be perfectly smooth. But I’m pretty fundamentally uncomfortable with not listening to kids’ voices. Rachel Cohen I don’t think anyone’s saying don’t listen to kids, but they’re saying that if you encourage kids to think of themselves as anxious, and if you give kids those certain frameworks to diagnose or understand their problems, and as you noted earlier a lot of this information is coming from social media — Anna Mueller We think of frames as ways for kids to express themselves. As adults, it’s our job to dig deeper into how they’re framing their lives. Can suicide be an idiom of distress? Yes. Research has shown that some kids use the language of suicide as a way to express themselves to the adults in their lives. Similar things with anxiety, but then our job is to unpack that and discover what does that mean. Seth Abrutyn I think what Anna is trying to say, and what our book is trying to say, is that adults are really responsible for the worlds these youth inhabit. And these anxiety frames maybe are something that spreads around on TikTok, but it’s also something that’s being generated by adults, and it’s actually something being generated from real things in their lives, like school shootings. The way that we talk about them, and the way that we don’t listen to them, is maybe not helpful to kids. As a sociologist, we’re sitting there thinking how do we make schools better places? Well, what are adults doing? How are we making schools safer spaces so that this anxiety frame is not something kids are talking about? Rachel Cohen What are the big questions researchers are still grappling with when it comes to youth suicide? Anna Mueller I know one thing that emerged for me and Seth after our book is how can we look at how suicide prevention is enacted in the school building, so that we’re catching kids before they get to that? Since we did the fieldwork for Life Under Pressure, our research has involved working collaboratively with schools to strengthen kids’ ability to get meaningful care. We have begun to see some differences in how schools approach suicide prevention that are actually really salient to whether the school experiences an enduring suicide problem or recurring suicide clusters. Seth Abrutyn Most schools know that trusted adults are a really important part of the school building. And so thinking about how do we get teachers to do little things, like one school building made sure every teacher between classes was outside of their room for five minutes, just standing in the hallway, just saying hi, smiling, and pointing out that you were there. We often think those things don’t make a big impact, but it does. If a kid is not having a good day, maybe they’re not the most popular kid, but if they see that someone remembers them, someone knows them, it makes a real difference.

Franco Zacha for Vox Your neighborhood watering hole is more important than you think. Meng Liu spent years ping-ponging around the world looking for community. It was her dream to live in New York City, but after she found it difficult to make friends, Liu moved to Los Angeles, where she faced similar social roadblocks. Loneliness followed her across the globe to Shanghai, where she again chased a sense of belonging that never came. Thinking back on a comment a friend had made years ago, Liu had an epiphany. “Belonging isn’t some magical place that you can find in your next destination,” she recalled the friend saying. “It is where you feel most connected with the people around you, and that you have people who love you and that you love.” So Liu decided to give New York a second chance. She moved back in 2019 and made a commitment to fostering relationships. Inspired by her own difficulty making friends and the country’s epidemic of loneliness, in 2022 she founded a social club, Wowza Hangout, that brings people together around shared interests and activities. Wowza Hangout has hosted gatherings where people ranging in age from early 20s to late 50s play games, watch movies, sing karaoke, and picnic. All events are free, though Wowza Hangout is experimenting with a subscription model ($14.99 a month for unlimited hangouts, as opposed to monthly organized get-togethers). A crucial component of these hangouts are their settings: board game cafés, bars, museums, parks. They’re venues that populate a vibrant city like New York, but where attendees might feel awkward approaching someone they don’t know. Wowza Hangout not only provides the location but gives people permission to transform each of these physical spaces into a hub for connection — in other words, a third place. First defined by sociologist Ray Oldenburg in his 1989 book The Great Good Place, third places are settings a person frequents beyond their home (the first place) and work (the second place). Third places can include more traditional settings like places of worship, community and recreation centers, parks, and social clubs, but also encompass bars, gyms, malls, makeshift clubhouses in neighborhoods, and even virtual settings like Nextdoor. As Oldenburg described them, third places are great equalizers, spots where regulars of different backgrounds and perspectives can mingle in a location that is comfortable, unpretentious, and low-cost. Even prior to the pandemic, these institutions were shuttering, according to research. As Americans spend more time alone and practice individualized forms of leisure, like marathoning television series on streaming services and passively scrolling on social platforms, they aren’t gathering communally as often as they were in decades past — a shift the political scientist Robert Putnam observed a quarter century ago in his formative book Bowling Alone. You don’t need to take on the herculean task of making new friends to be less lonely. You may just need a third place. High rent and disinvestment in low-income neighborhoods could be drivers in the closure of third place businesses, according to Jessica Finlay, an assistant professor in the Institute of Behavioral Science and the department of geography at the University of Colorado Boulder. (Finlay doesn’t yet have data to support this hypothesis, but this summer she hopes to study exactly where third places are closing and how the trends differ by neighborhood.) On a planning level, zoning laws preventing commercial spaces like bars and cafés from building in residential areas further drive the wedge between families and communities. This isn’t to say Americans don’t value third places. “I think that people both wish they had more of them,” says Katherine Giuffre, a professor emerita of sociology at Colorado College, “and at the same time, overlook them or take them for granted.” With some intentionality, experts believe we can recommit to — and reimagine — third places. They may look exactly as we’ve always experienced them. They may not be physical spaces at all. The benefits of third places If one of the many crises that befall our society is loneliness, third places offer a solution. These environments are where the community gathers, where you can be either actively engaged in conversation or passively taking in the bustle around you. At their very best, third places allow people of differing backgrounds to cross paths — to develop what are known as bridging ties. As opposed to our closest connections, bridging social networks encompass people who have varying identities, social and economic resources, and knowledge. “Studies have shown that just having a diversity of folks in your life … more informal and infrequent and unplanned, can be really protective for health and well-being,” Finlay says. “Classically, third places were sites where you could build up these bridging ties.” As a result, third places are trust and relationship builders: You encounter a person frequently enough that you naturally graduate from a polite smile to small talk to perhaps deeper conversation. “You start to get the feeling that maybe I can trust that person if they say hello to me,” Giuffre says. “It’s not the beginning of some scam.” According to a 2007 study, even employees in these places, like bartenders and hairdressers, can provide emotional support to patrons looking for a sympathetic ear. You don’t need to take on the herculean task of making new friends to be less lonely. You may just need a third place. Simply developing acquaintance-like relationships is enough to foster feelings of belonging, studies show. Without third places, “Americans may be losing access to key services, goods, and amenities, in addition to community sites that help buffer against loneliness, stress, and alienation,” Finlay wrote in her 2019 paper detailing the loss of third places. Why we aren’t getting the most out of third places While teaching a master’s level course about building community at Viterbo University, ethics professor Richard Kyte observed students’ piqued interest when discussing third places. Even if they hadn’t heard the term before, Kyte says, they could easily identify these communal relationship breeding grounds. “It would be the kind of place they used to visit, or a place they remembered from their childhood,” says Kyte, the author of Finding Your Third Place: Building Happier Communities (and Making Great Friends Along the Way). “Or a place that they see other people frequenting, and they wish they had in their lives. But not that many people who say, ‘I have a third place and I go to it on a regular basis.’” Aside from the obvious — the pandemic — there are a multitude of reasons why third places aren’t being frequented, supported, or funded. In her study of third place closures, Finlay and colleagues found that between 2008 and 2015, stores selling sporting goods, hobby items, musical instruments, and books decreased by 27 percent, while barbershops, beauty salons, and laundromats dropped by nearly 23 percent. Declining church membership suggests organized religion is no longer the community builder it once was. According to a 2023 Pew Research Center survey, over half of Americans say they would rather live in a larger house where schools, stores, and restaurants are miles away. Despite the fact that most of the country lives near a bar, movie theater, restaurant, or park, the Survey Center on American Life found that 56 percent of Americans in 2021 said they had a third place they frequent, down from 67 percent in 2019. According to Kyte, the separation of residential and commercial real estate means people must rely on cars to access bars and fitness studios. Food- and beverage-focused locations also encourage patrons to purchase their items and leave to make room for the next customer. If you do hope to stay, expect to keep spending. The low-cost luxuriating necessary for healthy third places isn’t considered profitable. Restaurants aren’t the only environments becoming untenable for lingering. Parks with hostile architecture and a lack of bathrooms and water fountains send the signal that they are spaces just for passing through. “They’re meant to be hostile to people who are without homes,” Giuffre says. “But it ends up being hostile to the whole community.” And some third places are increasingly difficult to access at all for certain populations. With fewer hangout options for teens (what spots do exist might require them to be chaperoned), they lack time for unstructured socializing. Older and immunocompromised people are vulnerable to illnesses like Covid-19, flu, and RSV circulating in indoor environments that are not well ventilated. Community- and health-focused efforts implemented during the height of the pandemic, like streeteries, expanded patio areas, and pedestrian-only street closures, have been pared back or abandoned, denying many an opportunity to safely engage with their cities and towns. (On the contrary, some cities, like Los Angeles, have made outdoor dining measures permanent.) When people don’t feel safe in specific contexts, they won’t engage with them. Recently, third places have become a monolith of experience, Finlay says. People are self-segregating based on specific interests, hobbies, or ideologies that tend to skew toward a particular demographic. Interacting with people who look and see the world similarly may deepen our existing connections but don’t facilitate bridging social networks. “We need to facilitate more of these bridging ties and bridging encounters,” Finlay says, “so that we’re not just spending time in an echo chamber, whether it’s online or in person, of people who already think the same way that we do.” However, opting to spend time with people who share similar experiences and backgrounds can be a matter of safety. If you suspect other patrons in a community book club will judge you — or worse, harass you — based on your views or how you present yourself, you’ll avoid those spaces. In her research looking at young people with histories of housing instability and homelessness, Danielle Littman found that this population doesn’t always feel welcomed in modern third places. People who don’t appear as if they “belong” might face questions like “Why is this person here?” or “Are they supposed to be here right now?” says Littman, an assistant professor in the College of Social Work at the University of Utah. The person might be asked to leave. “Even worse,” she says, is “criminalization of just existing in a space. I see some of those practices and policies as inequitable enforcement of third places.” By nature, third places should be diverse, Giuffre says. Everyone has a responsibility to act inclusively so the space is safe and welcome to all. “That can be a lot easier said than done,” she says. “Because the teenagers are loud and the old people don’t want to hear them. But we have to open ourselves up to embracing difference.” How to reimagine third places Experts agree communities are in a collective state of rethinking third places. But how might those places look? In response to the housing affordability crisis, people are moving into smaller homes they can afford, says Jorge González-Hermoso, a research associate at the Urban Institute. In these smaller homes, people might lack leisure amenities, like a backyard or space for a home gym, pushing them into third spaces to seek those services elsewhere. In order to signal that these places are lively and in demand, González-Hermoso says, there must be some form of engagement and activation, whether through exercise classes in a park or kids’ skate nights at a roller rink. This public commitment often comes naturally when the community’s needs are taken into consideration. When the nonprofit Better Block plans public space transformations in cities and towns worldwide, its team first solicits the community’s feedback, says the organization’s executive director, Krista Nightengale. “Valuing the community’s input and not only listening, but watching what they do and how they respond to a space,” she says, “is a huge thing.” In the parking lot outside of Better Block’s offices, for instance, four parking spaces were transformed into a small basketball court where students from a nearby school now organically gather. “Our parking lot has now become a third place for many of those students,” Nightengale says, “where they’ll bring their basketballs, they’ll play after school, or they’ll just simply sit in the patio furniture that we’ve put out there and hang out.” In her research, Littman says people are looking for third places to meet basic needs — amenities like a safe place to nap or free snacks — especially if they are not getting those needs met at home or work or school. To make third places as inclusive as possible, Better Block ensures park signs reflect the diverse languages spoken by members in the community or use images like emojis to convey messages, Nightengale says. The organization also aims to make the spaces ADA accessible. Comfortable seating and shade are also integral to making a space comfortable for all. Despite fears that the furniture may be stolen or vandalized, those incidents almost never transpire, Nightengale says. “When you show a space is loved and taken care of, people tend to treat it the same way.” Perhaps the most accessible third place of all isn’t necessarily a physical one. Online platforms can offer people in rural communities, people with limited mobility, and people with marginalized identities safe and affirming ways to connect. While many potential benefits of online third places haven’t been studied, Finlay has spoken with study participants who say online concerts, for instance, have allowed them to enjoy an event they wouldn’t have experienced otherwise. She has also heard from people who use Nextdoor because, despite it being online, they can still interact with locals. Younger generations may prefer apps like Pokémon Go, she says, another platform that filters reality through the screen — and gets people outside. Chat rooms and social media sites centered around specific interests and hobbies are also popular online third places, Finlay says. However, these online forums come with their own complications, including harassment from other, sometimes anonymous, users and less welcoming attitudes toward people with differing perspectives. When it comes to established environments that serve the needs of as many people as possible, experts agree that public parks are the closest we have to an ideal third place. Parks are preferably welcoming to all members of the community for a variety of activities; they ideally have bathrooms, water fountains, and cooling tree cover; they’re free and open daily. It might be easier for parents of children playing to chat with one another than for a picnicker to approach a jogger, but events — like concerts, art installations, and farmers markets — can help bring more people together, Giuffre says. But funding and support for parks isn’t always a given. “It’s a policy decision to say we’re going to have money put into these public spaces from our tax dollars so that everyone can participate,” Giuffre says. How to find your own third place To get the most out of third places, you’ve got to find one you enjoy frequenting. Mine your interests, Littman says, to discover a location that fulfills your needs. For instance, if you love books but don’t necessarily want to discuss them with others, find a bar or café that offers silent reading nights for people who want to read communally. See what public and commercial spaces are in your community: Do any of them offer classes you’d want to take? Are they spots you’d want to hang out and become a regular? Invite a friend, coworker, or family member to check it out with you. Immersing yourself in the culture of the space requires intentionality, consciously caring for your, and your community’s, social health. This might require some actionable changes, like dedicating time each week to spend an hour or so in a neighborhood hangout, going into a restaurant or coffee shop instead of picking up, leaving your phone in your pocket while waiting in line, engaging with people in small but meaningful ways. Don’t become discouraged if an interaction isn’t as successful as you hoped, says Liu, the founder of meetup group Wowza Hangout. To be a part of something, you must consistently show up. Soon enough you’ll naturally braid into the fabric of the third place; you’ll become a familiar face, a driver of conversation, a person to say hello to. In an age of loneliness, that might be one of the most powerful tools of all.

Signs hang at George Washington University’s Gaza solidarity encampment, created by students in conjunction with other DC-area universities, in Washington, DC on April 25, 2024. | Allison Bailey/Middle East Images/AFP via Getty Images And is it feasible? Plus three other questions about the student protesters’ demands. A core demand at the heart of the protests over the war in Gaza currently roiling college campuses across the US and around the world: that universities divest from Israel. That means withdrawing funds their endowments have invested in companies that are linked to Israel. Their demands have revived a long-running debate about whether universities should even consider ethics in their investment decisions and whether there is an ethical approach to divestment from Israel, or if these institutions should simply maximize returns. There is also a question of whether these divestment demands, which have been criticized by some pundits as overly broad, are feasible to meet or will even be effective. Their demands come as the Palestinian death toll (now over 34,000 people) only keeps rising and as full-blown famine breaks out in northern Gaza, with the rest of the territory remaining at risk. The US Student Movement for Palestinian Liberation released a statement April 21 indicative of what the protests are broadly calling for; it asked universities to “completely divest our tuition dollars from — and to cut all institutional ties to — the zionist entity as well as all companies complicit in the colonization of Palestine.” But students on some campuses have articulated more specific demands, seeking to focus their efforts on divesting from major weapons manufacturers that universities have invested in, ensuring that their universities no longer accept research funding from the Israeli military, or ending academic partnerships with Israeli institutions. Some universities, including Columbia University, have already rejected those calls and have swiftly called the police on protesters, prompting further escalation. Others — including Brown University, Northwestern University, and the University of Minnesota — have agreed to consider them. On Thursday, Evergreen State College became one of the first to approve an effort to divest. Divestment has been a tactic embraced by protesters in previous student movements opposing the South African apartheid regime and fossil fuel companies contributing to climate change. Those calls for divestment have had varying degrees of success — to what degree depends on how you define that success in terms of their financial or political impact. The movement to divest from Israel borrows from the traditions of those historical movements. But will it work the same way? What is divestment? Divestment is, essentially, reversing an investment. And the goal of divestment movements generally is “generating social and political pressure on the companies that are targets of divestment — stigmatizing behavior,” said Cutler Cleveland, a Boston University sustainability professor who was involved in the decade-long fossil fuel divestment campaign there. Current calls for divestment from Israel are an outgrowth of the broader Boycott, Divestment, Sanctions (BDS) movement, which originated in 2005 among Palestinian civil society groups after several failures in the two-state peace process and was inspired by the movement to divest from South African apartheid. The BDS movement’s website argues that, since Israel’s founding in 1948 when it forced 700,000 Palestinians to flee their homes, the country has “denied Palestinians their fundamental rights and has refused to comply with international law” while maintaining a “regime of settler colonialism, apartheid and occupation over the Palestinian people.” The BDS movement has therefore called on banks, local councils, churches, pension funds, and universities to “withdraw investments from the State of Israel and all Israeli and international companies that sustain Israeli apartheid.” However, critics of BDS say that it is inherently antisemitic in that it “effectively reject[s] or ignore[s] the Jewish people’s right of self-determination” and that if implemented, it “would result in the eradication of the world’s only Jewish state,” according to the Anti-Defamation League. Student groups behind the recent protests on college campuses have denounced antisemitism, which they do not equate with opposing Israel. But there have been incidents of antisemitism, and some Jewish students say they feel unsafe on their own campuses as the target of threatening behavior and rhetoric. The BDS movement has recently notched new wins: Evergreen State College’s announcement last week, and one from Ireland’s sovereign investment fund in April stating that it will divest from six Israeli companies, including some of its biggest banks, based on their operations in the Palestinian territories. How endowments work Understanding whether it’s feasible for universities to divest from Israel requires understanding how their endowments work. Endowments are basically large rainy day investment funds whose returns far outpace growth from new donations, allowing universities to supplement tuition dollars and fees in supporting their daily operations. Harvard University has the largest endowment, at $49.5 billion in fiscal year 2023 — bigger than the GDP of more than 120 countries — but US university endowments average about $1.6 billion. Most universities are “very wary or averse to using the endowment as a political tool,” said Georges Dyer, executive director of the Intentional Endowments Network. That’s because university endowments have both a financial interest in maximizing returns — and a legal duty to serve the financial health of their institutions. Today, the vast majority of universities manage their endowments through external investment management companies, Dyer said. They might invest in private equity funds, hedge funds, or public companies, usually via index funds where they are one of many investors putting their money into a pool that is invested in a portfolio of stocks and bonds designed to track a certain financial market index such as the S&P 500. The portfolios of these funds are not tailored to the preferences of a particular university, which may make it difficult to divest from particular causes. These funds also present challenges in terms of transparency. The companies included in index funds are publicly reported. But hedge funds or private equity funds may not even disclose to their own clients where their investments lie, which is part of their competitive advantage. Universities with larger endowments tend to allocate more of their investments to these private investments, Dyer said. And that can make divestment difficult. What we can learn from past divestment movements Two major divestment movements have laid the groundwork for the current protests. In the 1980s, student activists pushed their universities to divest from firms that supported or profited from South African apartheid. Politically, they were effective: 155 universities ultimately divested. And in 1986, the US government also bowed to pressure from protesters and enacted a divestment policy. Along with increasing protests within South Africa led by organizations including the African National Congress, the Pan Africanist Congress, and trade unions, that kind of international pressure helped force the white South African government to begin negotiations that ultimately ended apartheid, at least officially. A few things helped make this movement successful. For one, protesters faced little pushback at the time given that much of the political establishment was embarrassed by the US’s ties to apartheid. Investments in commingled funds that are now favored by universities were not as widely used back then. And the interconnected, global economy as we know it today had not yet taken shape, making it practicable to isolate companies based in South Africa or with major South African interests. Currently, there is an ongoing movement to push universities to divest from fossil fuels, popularized by climate activist and Middlebury professor Bill McKibben. About 250 universities have at least committed to do so after years of campus activism, though this has overall had a negligible impact on the finances of fossil fuel companies (with the exception of coal companies), suggesting that it may not have yet had the impact hoped. Cleveland said that part of what helped persuade his university to divest in 2021 is the undeniable fact that fossil fuel companies have driven the climate crisis, which provided “a basis to argue that the university has a responsibility to align its investment decisions with its educational research.” Practically, fossil fuel divestment was also feasible. Though there are some quibbles about what constitutes a fossil fuel company — for example, do power plants that use fossil fuels count? — it’s a generally easy-to-define group. It’s also become easier to disentangle fossil fuel investments from an endowment’s portfolio because fund managers have started to offer purportedly fossil fuel-free funds, seemingly in response to external pressure. And finally, there’s a financial argument for divestment from fossil fuels: “If and when society moves toward a low-carbon economy, those investments in the fossil fuel companies will become worth less because much of their value is based on the fossil fuel reserves that won’t be used,” Dyer said. Can divestment work in the context of Israel? Universities divesting broadly from Israeli companies or companies that do business in Israel might not have much of a financial impact. “The data suggests that, economically, anything short of official sanctions by important economic partners such as the United States or European Union would be unlikely to produce anything near the kind of economic pressure BDS supporters envision,” researchers at the Brookings Institution concluded. Broad divestment from Israel would also be practically very difficult. Israel has many research and development partnerships with US entities, and is also a major player in industries such as computer technology, medical devices, and pharmaceuticals. Many major multinational companies do business in Israel or with Israel, such as Google and Cisco. To exclude them entirely would require withdrawing from many kinds of commingled investment funds. It might be more practicable for protesters to target a specific list of companies, as students at Brown University are doing. They are seeking divestment from 11 companies that Brown directly invests in, accounting for less the 10 percent of its endowment: AB Volvo, Airbus, Boeing, DXC, General Dynamics, General Electric, Motorola, Northrop Grumman, Oaktree Capital, Raytheon, and United Technologies. The question, however, is where universities would draw the line. “There’s the very subjective nature of the assessment of the war in Gaza that I think puts you in a very different terrain than the fossil fuel divestment debate,” Cleveland said. “It will just be so arbitrary about who you’re going to include and not include.” And even with more piecemeal efforts to divest, universities and students would need to weigh any financial hit to the endowment that would hurt the university community and its mission. “Students need to be confronted with moral questions, such as whether Columbia being associated with defense contractors is worth the tuition discount,” Oliver Hart, an economics professor at Harvard, and Luigi Zingales, a professor of entrepreneurship and finance at the University of Chicago Booth School of Business, write in Compact. It’s hard to know exactly what the costs of divestment to universities might be in the context of Israel. Chris Marsicano, an assistant professor of education studies at Davidson College, told PBS that research including his own has shown that divestment in the fossil fuel context had “at worst, a negligible effect for institutions like Stanford and Dayton and Syracuse and, in many cases, may have had a positive effect.” What would make divestment successful? Calls for divestment at universities have always been a means to a greater end, whether it be bringing down an apartheid regime or reversing climate change. In the current context, what student protesters really want is an end to the fighting in Gaza, which has killed more than 34,000 Palestinians, and the end of what they see as the injustices Israel, as the biggest cumulative beneficiary of US foreign aid, has exacted on Palestinians for decades. Whether universities ultimately divest and whether that has any material financial impact on Israel might be less important to the protesters than whether their calls for divestment alone can make the status quo politically untenable. The question is whether the political impact of the protests is lining up with that goal. Republicans, including former President Donald Trump, have already latched on to the protests as an example of America’s need for their brand of “law and order.” “The movements themselves become a potent symbol for the other side,” said Matthew Nisbet, a professor of communication, public policy, and urban affairs at Northeastern University. Both US President Joe Biden and Israeli Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu have publicly addressed the protests on US college campuses, suggesting that they are feeling at least some pressure to react — but are not bowing to it yet. Biden said Thursday that the protests had not caused him to reconsider his strategy in the Middle East, and his aides remain confident that the protests will not overshadow his case for reelection in 2024. But young people leading the protests represent an important constituency for Biden. “Demanding financial disclosure and asking US universities to break their financial ties has proven to be very powerful and threatening,” said Jennie Stephens, a professor of sustainability science and policy at Northeastern University who has written a forthcoming book about climate justice on campus. How powerful and threatening, however, remains to be seen. A version of the story appeared in Today, Explained, Vox’s flagship daily newsletter. Sign up here for future editions.

Inspectors and police are seen raiding the Al Jazeera offices in Jerusalem, Israel, on May 5, 2024, and confiscating its equipment. | Saeed Qaq/NurPhoto via Getty Images Press freedom is in a state of emergency in Israel and Gaza. Israel’s decision to shut down Al Jazeera’s operations in the country signaled an escalation in an already hostile environment for journalists covering the war in Gaza. Israeli Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu, who has previously called Al Jazeera a “mouthpiece for Hamas,” accused the Qatar-based news network of threatening Israel’s national security and used powers granted under an emergency law to shutter the outlet. He has not identified what specifically about Al Jazeera’s coverage the government believed crossed that line. “The government headed by me unanimously decided: the incitement channel Al Jazeera will be closed in Israel,” Netanyahu wrote Sunday on X in Hebrew. For years, many experts in Israeli politics have been warning about the country’s gradual embrace of far-right undemocratic principles. Now, as Israel prepares for an imminent invasion of Gaza’s southernmost city of Rafah, the Netanyahu government is impinging on freedom of the press in a way that may limit oversight and should put the world’s liberal democracies on guard. “This move sets an extremely alarming precedent for restricting international media outlets working in Israel,” Carlos Martinez de la Serna, program director for the Committee to Protect Journalists, said in a statement. “The Israeli cabinet must allow Al-Jazeera and all international media outlets to operate freely in Israel, especially during wartime.” What we know Months ago, the Israeli government adopted an emergency law to censor foreign journalists deemed threats to national security while the war in Gaza proceeds. Pro-Iranian channel Al Mayadeen was previously censored under the law, with Netanyahu’s security cabinet citing its “wartime efforts to harm [Israel’s] security interests and to serve the enemy’s goals” following the October 7 attack by Hamas, which receives funding from Iran. Two of the network’s journalists were subsequently killed in an Israeli bombing in southern Lebanon. The government has been talking about invoking the law against Al Jazeera since at least early November, when communications minister Shlomo Karhi claimed the network had “photographed and published” the positioning of IDF forces, “broadcast military announcements by Hamas,” and “distorted facts in a way which incited masses of people to riot.” On Sunday, the government finally brought down the ax, restricting the network’s ability to broadcast from Israel and to be viewed by Israelis, as well as seizing broadcast equipment. The block is in place for 45 days, with the option of a 45-day extension. In a statement, Al Jazeera called the decision a “criminal act that violates human rights and the basic right to access of information.” It’s not clear how the decision will impact the network’s ability to cover the war from Gaza and the occupied West Bank. Why does it matter? The decision to shut down Al Jazeera is the latest escalation against journalists trying to cover the war both in Israel and in the occupied Palestinian territories. Throughout the war, Israel has said that it cannot guarantee journalists’ safety in Gaza and has denied foreign journalists access to the region. As of May 3, at least 97 journalists and media workers have been killed over the course of the war, according to the Committee to Protect Journalists. By some counts, that’s more than were killed during the entire two-decade Vietnam War. Journalists covering the war have also faced assaults, threats, cyberattacks, and censorship, as well as contended with communications blackouts in Gaza. There are also multiple reports of killings of reporters’ family members in Palestine. Under international law, journalists don’t constitute a separate, protected class from civilians overall. However, because it is illegal to intentionally target civilians or launch an attack that does not distinguish between military targets and civilians, it is also illegal to intentionally target journalists. Media cannot be considered military targets even when they are being employed for propaganda purposes unless they make an “effective contribution to military action” or they “incite war crimes, genocide or acts of violence,” according to the International Committee of the Red Cross. Nevertheless, independent investigations from Reporters Without Borders have alleged that Israel has intentionally targeted journalists on multiple occasions. For Israel, which is increasingly losing the international war of public opinion, all of this is a means of undermining independent reporting that could further damage its image abroad. It could also obscure the reality on the ground. The war has made independent reporting difficult, with dozens of outlets’ offices destroyed, in addition to journalists being killed. In that vacuum, Hamas and Israel frequently offer dueling narratives that are often impossible to verify.

It’s only the beginning of the cicada eruption. | Sean Rayford/Getty Images Trillions of these noisy insects are set to take to the skies in the first double brood event in 221 years. For the first time in 221 years, this spring will seebillions, if not trillions, of cicadas take to the skies in a rare synchronized event that will transform our ecosystems for years to come. In forests across the United States, two groups, or “broods,” of these noisy insects will crawl out from their underground dwellings to sprout wings, mate, lay eggs, and eventually die. In the Midwest, there’s Brood XIX, which pops up every 13 years, and Brood XIII, which emerges every 17 years and is concentrated in the Southeast. The mass eruption, scientists believe, is strategic, but many mysteries about cicadas remain: Why do their alarm clocks use prime numbers? For that matter, how do they keep time? We’ll explain everything we know about this spectacular double brood event here. Follow along.

Rapper Drake at “Lil Baby & Friends Birthday Celebration Concert” at State Farm Arena on December 9, 2022, in Atlanta. | Prince Williams/WireImage Everyone was fighting with everyone — until Kendrick Lamar proved to be the ultimate challenger. To borrow a phrase from our foremost cultural observer, Azealia Banks, the boys are fighting. Since the explosive drop of producer Metro Boomin and rapper Future’s first joint album, We Don’t Trust You, on March 22, a cold war has broken out involving the duo and the rest of hip-hop’s top-tier (male) millennial roster: Drake, J. Cole, Kendrick Lamar, and A$AP Rocky. It’s been a strange few weeks, with shots being thrown in an extremely public and increasingly amusing way. In an utterly baffling move, Cole made a public apology for his own diss track, bowing out of the beef early. Meanwhile, like any argument you might see among a group of rich women on Bravo, Drake is being put on blast for his rumored plastic surgery. (Thank you, Megan Thee Stallion.) This isn’t the first time this particular group of A-listers — all of whom dominated the mainstream rap charts of the 2010s — have exchanged lyrical blows. In particular, Drake and Lamar have sneak-dissed each other for a while now. However, to the average music listener, all these men have a more well-known history of collaboration, including features, a joint album, and tour stops. Lamar’s fiery verse, however, on the We Don’t Trust You track “Like That,” has shattered any remaining semblance of camaraderie. In the weeks since, Future and Metro have released yet another rage-fueled album, hilariously titled We Still Don’t Trust You. Drake clunkily released his own sprawling diss, “Push Ups,” name-dropping everyone from SZA to Maroon 5 to Swifties. (Did I mention Uma Thurman is also involved?) Lamar responded with two back-to-back disses: first, the scathing track “euphoria,” and, later, “6:16 in LA,” which had a surprising producer credit from Taylor Swift’s righthand man, Jack Antonoff. Over the weekend, though, tensions between Lamar and Drake reached a fever pitch. The rappers exchanged several explosive diss tracks with some pretty dark, criminal allegations. It was Kendrick who ultimately seemed more prepared. After nearly 15 tumultuous years in the game, it’s no surprise that Drake has once again found himself on the receiving end of some hate. At first, it seemed like this latest feud was exactly what rap’s sensitive king needed in a rather uninspired era in his career, defined by a rather dull musical output and gross jabs at women. However, following Lamar’s verbal lashings, a PR cleanup may be needed. Who’s beefing with who? Johnny Nunez/Getty Images for the Recording Academy Kendrick Lamar wins the Best Rap Album award for Mr. Morale & the Big Steppers during the 65th Grammy Awards at Crypto.com Arena on February 5, 2023, in Los Angeles, California. A few weeks ago, Future and Metro essentially released a breakup album from their frequent collaborator and former comrade, Drake. (Drake and Future have nearly 30 collaborations combined, and Metro executive-produced their 2015 mixtape What A Time to Be Alive.) We Don’t Trust You is packed with subliminal messages seemingly directed at Drake, regarding his shady maneuvers. However, it was Kendrick’s relatively gentle prodding on the track “Like That” that was ultimately the most incendiary. On the track — which has sat at No. 1 on the Billboard Hot 100 for three weeks in a row now — he raps “Motherfuck the big three, it’s just big me,” renouncing his informal association with rap peers Drake and Cole. On the recent Drake song “First Person Shooter,” off his latest album For All the Dogs, Cole claimed on his guest verse that he, Drake, and Lamar are the “Big 3” of the current era of hip-hop. Nevertheless, Lamar’s ire on “Like That” is mostly pointed at his noted frenemy Drake, brushing off his purportedly unstoppable commercial success. “Your best work is a light pack,” he asserts. “N—, Prince outlived Mike Jack.” Cole responded first on April 5 with the track “7-Minute Drill,” featured on his aptly titled mixtape Might Delete Later. Cole throws shots at Lamar’s Pulitzer Prize-winning discography, calling his latest album Mr. Morale and The Big Steppers “tragic” and claiming his Grammy-winning sophomore album Good Kid, Maad City “put [listeners] to sleep.” He also promises to “humble” Lamar if “push comes to shove.” However, by April 10, Cole had rescinded his warning shot, including removing “7-Minute Drill” from streaming platforms. At his annual Dreamville Festival, he issued a heavily mocked quasi-apology to Lamar. “I tried to jab [Lamar] back, and I try to keep it friendly,” he told the crowd in North Carolina. “But at the end of the day when I listen to it, and when it comes out and I see the talk, that don’t sit right with my spirit.” Before Drake could unleash his own diss, Future and Metro released the follow-up, We Still Don’t Trust You, on April 12. This time, A$AP Rocky got some punches in. On the song “Show of Hands,” he rapped “N—s in they feelings over women. What, you hurt or something? I smash before you birthed, son. Flacko hit it first, son.” This is presumably a response to Drake apparently dissing A$AP and his partner Rihanna, whom Drake previously dated, on his song “Fear of Heights.” (Fans have also speculated that A$AP means he previously slept with the mother of Drake’s son.) Another one of Drake’s most famous industry mates, The Weeknd, appears on both Future and Metro albums. However, on We Still Don’t Trust You’s eighth track, “All to Myself,” he sings, “I thank God that I never signed my life away.” Fans interpreted that as a jab about Drake’s label OVO Sound, which, despite his heavy association with the label, The Weeknd ultimately never signed to. Who is Drake dissing on “Push Ups”? On Saturday, April 13, Drake’s long-awaited response titled “Push Ups (Drop & Give Me Fifty)” mysteriously made its way to the internet. The seemingly unmixed demo made many social media users speculate whether the song was AI-generated before noted hip-hop commentator DJ Akademiks eventually played it — noticeably with some tweaks, like the omission of a line about P. Diddy and a different beat — on his livestream. Hip-hop radio station Power 105 also streamed a high-quality version of the song. Given Drake’s comments on Instagram over the weekend, including a photo of Uma Thurman single-handedly taking on a group of fighters in the 2003 film Kill Bill, all signs point to the track being legitimate. That said, “Push Ups” is a hefty (and expectedly humorous) diss record, taking aim at Drake’s aforementioned opps while pulling some other parties into the crossfire. One of them is the Weeknd’s manager, CashXO, who he accuses of “blowing Abel’s bread trickin.” He also takes shots at Memphis Grizzlies player Ja Morant, who fans are speculating he was previously in a love triangle with. In probably the silliest development of this multi-pronged feud, he throws some digs at rapper Rick Ross, another frequent collaborator of his. “This n— turning 50,” Drake raps. “Every song that made it on the chart he got it from Drizzy.” Ross swiftly followed up with his own diss called “Champagne Moments,” which quickly went viral. Among other insults and accusations, he calls Drake, who’s mixed, “white boy” and claims he got a nose job. Johnny Nunez/WireImage Drake and Rick Ross at P. Diddy’s Ciroc The New Years Eve Party at his home on December 31, 2013, in Miami Beach, Florida. As for Lamar, Drake offers a pretty comprehensive rebuttal, poking fun at Lamar for apparently wearing a “size 7 shoe” and his collaborations with pop acts like Maroon 5 and Taylor Swift’s “Bad Blood.” (Lest we forget, Drake has also linked up with Swift for a check.) He also names some artists who he feels have surpassed Lamar’s stardom, including SZA, who’s signed to Lamar’s own Top Dawg Entertainment label. (She apparently doesn’t want to be involved.) There’s also a bar that many listeners, including DJ Akademiks, interpreted as an audacious mention of Lamar’s fiancé, Whitney Alford (“I be with some bodyguards like Whitney”). However, this could also be a misreading of a more obvious reference to the Whitney Houston film, The Bodyguard. Drake’s latest round with Kendrick took a particularly dark turn Ahead of Lamar dropping his response, “euphoria,” Drake released another diss track for Lamar on April 19 called “Taylor Made Freestyle” using AI-generated vocals from 2Pac and Snoop Dogg to “spit” on his behalf. Drake’s weaponization of artificial intelligence, specifically regarding the deceased Tupac Shakur, generated mixed responses online. Some fans were amused by his “innovation,” while others, including Snoop, seemed downright confused. However, after his and Lamar’s most recent round of disses, these criticisms would be the least of his concerns. On April 30, Lamar finally dropped his rebuttal titled “euphoria” on streaming platforms. He spends most of the 6-minute track poking holes in Drake’s public persona. Among other digs, he questions the Canadian rapper’s proximity to Black American culture and his relationships with women. A few days later, Lamar followed up with “6:16 in LA,” claiming that Drake has a “leak” in his camp. Presumably, Drake wanted to get ahead of any dirt Lamar could possibly expose by dropping the track “Family Matters” this past Friday, along with a music video. In addition to Lamar, Drake has some more words for Ross, The Weeknd, and even Pharrell Williams. However, it’s Lamar’s fiancée, Whitney Alford, who’s the primary target of Drake’s claims. First, he suggests that one of Lamar’s children is actually fathered by his general manager, Dave Free, who’s also the former president of Lamar’s former label, Top Dawg Entertainment. Then he makes the more troubling allegation that Lamar “puts his hands on” Alford. “They hired a crisis management team to clean up the fact that you beat on your queen,” he says at the end of the track. Seemingly tipped off by a mole, Lamar followed up just a few minutes later with “meet the grahams,” with cover art featuring a box of the weight-loss drug Ozempic supposedly prescribed to Drake. In that song, Lamar addresses his verses to Drake’s son, Adonis, and Drake’s parents. “Dear Adonis, I’m sorry that man is your father,” he bluntly opens the track. He also dedicated a verse to Drake’s alleged 11-year-old daughter, who would be the second child the rapper has kept hidden from the public. Drake, however, was quick to jump on Instagram and shut down the claim that he had a secret daughter. More strikingly, though, Lamar refers to Drake as a “predator” and even likens him to Harvey Weinstein. Later that evening, Lamar dropped yet another track — this time, produced by DJ Mustard, who seemingly also has beef with Drake — “Not Like Us,” where he outright calls Drake a “pedophile.” In particular, social media lost it over the triple entendre, “tryna strike a chord, and it’s probably A-minor.” On May 5, it seemed like Drake was ready to bow out after releasing the track “The Heart Part 6.” In addition to the curious claim that he purposely planted false information for Lamar to use, he spends most of the song denying that he sleeps with underage girls. He even addresses a controversial incident from 2018, when Stranger Things actor Millie Bobby Brown, who was then 14 years old, stated in an interview that she texted the rapper about boys. In a haphazard move, Drake attempts to connect these claims to Lamar’s own trauma, referencing the “one record where [Lamar] said [he] got molested” titled “Mother I Sober” — only Lamar doesn’t state that he was sexually abused on the song. In rapping about his cousin who was accused of sexual assault, he claims twice on the track that his cousin didn’t touch him, despite his family not believing him. Drake ends the song with a rambling spoken outro, similar to Nicki Minaj’s Megan Thee Stallion diss “Big Foot” earlier this year. “I’m not going to lie,” he says. “This shit was some good exercise.” In a noticeably exhausted tone, he says “it is what it is,” seemingly waving a white flag. Drake has previously thrived in beefs — but can he win when the whole industry is against him? For the most part, Drake has handled his public gang-up with an expected sense of humor and irreverence. However, with the latest releases, he seems to be fighting a battle he can’t win, using wishy-washy bars to attempt to toss off some serious allegations. It’s worth noting that Drake’s domestic-abuse claims against Lamar are just as serious. Nevertheless, rap fans on social media seem more invested in the seedy gossip that’s surrounded Drake’s mostly private romantic life, including these unsettling accusations about underage girls. Plus, after years of dominating the rap scene and making enemies out of several rappers, it seems social media users are ready to see the rapper taken down a few pegs. @xeviuniverse Everyone has their own reasons to dislike him but are aware of everyone elses reasons, makes him unlikable#greenscreen ♬ original sound - Xevi As anyone who’s even slightly followed rap over the past decade and a half can attest, this isn’t Drake’s first time engaging in warfare with his peers. Most famously, his career has seen headline-generating battles with Meek Mill, Pusha T, Joe Budden, and Kanye West. Arguably, his most infamous tiff was the culmination of a long-brewing beef with Pusha T in 2018, where the Virginia rapper exposed Drake’s formerly hidden son, Adonis, to the world. Despite the brief moment of humiliation, Drake ultimately emerged the victor — that is, if you’re using chart numbers and general popularity as a determining metric. After his moderately received victory lap of an album, Views, he was given a more gripping narrative to fuel his blockbuster 2018 album Scorpion. At the same time, he was once again proving his mass appeal outside of the rap audiences with party bangers like “God’s Plan,” “Nice For What,” and “In My Feelings,” all of which reached No. 1 on the Billboard Hot 100. More recently, however, Drake has been involved in several seemingly one-sided beefs with famous women. On his 2023 song with 21 Savage, “Circo Loco,” he threw out a not-so-subtle diss at rapper Megan Thee Stallion (“This bitch lie ’bout getting shots but she still a stallion”), joining a chorus of famous men disputing her now-proven claims that singer Tory Lanez shot her in the foot in 2020. During the rollout of For All the Dogs, he vexed actor Halle Berry, who claimed he used a photo of her for the artwork for his single “Slime You Out” without her permission. Additionally, he’s attempted to reignite drama with his former fling Rihanna. Aside from his digs on “Fear of Heights,” he played their collaboration “Work” at one of his concerts just to claim that he “doesn’t sing [the] song anymore.” Drake’s songwriting is often propelled by a sweeping sense of grievance and an obsession with the past and his haters (he’s not that different from Taylor Swift after all!). However, his constant feelings of victimhood within his relationships with women — and the subsequent, more blatant misogyny that’s grown out of that — has begun to wear on critics and parts of his female fanbase. It’s an observation that Lamar has sharply utilized in his diss tracks over the weekend. While this latest beef originally seemed like an ultimately invigorating experience for Drake in a snoozy part of his career, Lamar’s accusations of pedophilia and other predatory behavior will presumably leave a strong stench on Drake’s public image. It’ll be fascinating to see whether the seemingly invincible rapper can maintain fans’ respect after such dark claims. However, history has proven that male rappers can still thrive despite the most sordid allegations. Update, May 6, 2 pm: This story was originally published on April 17 and has been updated multiple times, most recently to include Kendrick Lamar’s new diss tracks, “meet the grahams” and “Not Like Us,” as well as Drake’s rejoinder, “The Heart Part 6.”

A Brood X cicada molts in Washington, DC. | Mandel Ngan/AFP via Getty Images How to summon a cicada. In the coming weeks, billions of periodical cicadas will rise up from the ground across the midwestern and southeastern United States. As they do, they’ll sprout wings, mate, and die within a few weeks. If you live in an area where Brood XIII and Brood XIX cicadas are expected, you will not mistake their arrival. In addition to littering the ground with exoskeletons, in their frenzied quest for mates, cicadas make a ton of noise. That loud buzzing sound is produced by a chorus of males, who sing together from the trees to attract females. Interested females respond with a quick flip of their wings, which produces more subtle clicking sounds. The males will then change their tunes and try to home in on the clicking females in order to mate. It turns out that humans can summon — and dare I say, seduce — a male cicada by imitating those female cicada clicks. Why might you want to do this? Perhaps it could be helpful in collecting cicadas for a protein-packed meal. Up to you! Esteemed nature documentarian and activist Sir David Attenborough demonstrates how to summon one. “I can imitate the female’s wing flip with a snap of my fingers,” Attenborough says in his unmistakably husky voice in this clip from a 2005 BBC program below. By snapping his fingers, Attenborough draws the cicada toward him, closer and closer. And then the cicada jumps toward Attenborough, to continue the courtship in a more intimate matter. “The noise is awful,” Attenborough says as the cicada hums sweet nothings into his ear. Update, May 6, 12 pm ET: This piece, originally published in 2016, has been updated for 2024 with details about Brood XIII and XIX.

Gabrielle Berbey and Peter Balonon-Rosen are joining as producers. Andrea Kristinsdottir is joining as an audio engineer. Vox managing editor Natalie Jennings announced today that Gabrielle Berbey, Peter Balonon-Rosen, and Andrea Kristinsdottir are joining the site’s audio division. Berbey begins her role today, and Balonon-Rosen and Kristinsdottir will start May 13. Gabrielle Berbey is joining Vox as a producer on the forthcoming Future Perfect podcast. She is a reporter and producer whose stories have aired on narrative shows across public radio. Previously, she produced for WNYC’s More Perfect and The Experiment, a collaboration between WNYC and the Atlantic. She also led the production of a series on the history of Spam and how it shaped meatpacking’s labor movement. She began her career at PBS, where she helped produce Frontline’s investigative podcast and worked on Ken Burns’s series about Muhammad Ali. Her reporting has been featured on shows such as Reveal from the Center for Investigative Reporting, Planet Money, Latino USA, and 99% Invisible. Peter Balonon-Rosen is joining Today, Explained as a producer. He comes from Throughline, the NPR narrative history podcast, where he was most recently the lead producer on a series about the history and future of constitutional amendments. Before that, he was at Marketplace for six years, where he was the founding producer of This Is Uncomfortable, a narrative show about wealth and inequality. At Marketplace, he also worked as a producer/reporter on the Uncertain Hour podcast, where he reported a collaboration with Reveal about minor league baseball’s labor history. Peter is drawn to stories about inequality, culture, and racial identity. Andrea Kristinsdottir is joining Vox as an audio engineer. She is a Signal and Webby Award-winning audio engineer, composer, and sound designer. Some of her favorite projects from the last few years are Blind Plea, LeVar Burton Reads, The Paris Review, Storytime With Seth Rogen, and “Before Route One” for BBC’s Between the Ears. Hailing from Iceland, she has lived in Kenya, Zimbabwe, Pakistan, Japan, and several US states.

Cornelia Li for Vox Why are more and more older people spending their dying years behind bars? In late 2018, Richard Washington sent a memo to the US Court of Appeals for the Ninth Circuit with the subject line “Notice I am being killed.” The 64-year-old man, who decades earlier was convicted on armed robbery charges, was serving a 63-year prison sentence in Arizona. In his letter, he alleged that the Department of Corrections was refusing to give him medication for his various health issues, which included diabetes, hypertension, and hepatitis C. Because of the lack of treatment, Washington wrote, “My greatest fear is that I’m going to die more sooner than later.” About six weeks later, he was dead. In state after state, prison systems have long been plagued by inadequate health care, resulting in the spread of treatable diseases and, in many cases, preventable deaths behind bars. But a key demographic trend threatens to make that problem even worse: Over the last several decades, America’s prison population has been rapidly aging, and, as in Washington’s case, prisoners’ health needs have become more significant as a result. People who were 55 years old or older made up about 3 percent of the US prison population in 1991; by 2021, they accounted for 15 percent. The total number of older prisoners is also steadily growing, with no signs of abatement: In 2020, there were about 166,000 incarcerated people aged 55 years or older; that number grew to about 178,000 in 2021 and 186,000 in 2022. The graying of America’s incarcerated population is effectively turning the US prison system into a de facto nursing home, leaving hundreds of thousands of older people in its care each year. The result is skyrocketing costs: The Bureau of Prisons’ health care spending on federal inmates rose from $978 million in 2009 to $1.34 billion in 2016, and various state governments have seen similar increases. Still, conditions in American prisons continue to be detrimental to people’s health and often lead to accelerated aging. Prisoners, for example, are much more likely to exhibit signs of cognitive decline, including dementia, at an earlier age than the general population, and one study found that a 59-year-old in prison has the same morbidity rate — that is, how often people get a disease — as a nonincarcerated 75-year-old. “We have facilities that aren’t considered humane,” said Lauren-Brooke Eisen, a senior director at the Brennan Center for Justice. “They’re not places for elderly people who have dementia and diabetes and maybe walkers or wheelchairs.” All of this raises both a moral and practical policy question that lawmakers have to face: Why are we forcing older people to spend their dying years in prison when they can get better care elsewhere? People aren’t just aging behind bars; police are locking up the elderly One of the explanations for the aging prison population is simple: Since the 1970s and the age of mass incarceration — when the American prison population ballooned and gave the United States the distinction of imprisoning more people than any other country in the world — people have been aging behind bars. The other explanation, however, is less obvious: Older people have been getting arrested at higher rates than they used to. In 1991, for example, people who were 55 years of age or older made up only 2 percent of adults who were arrested; by 2021, they made up 8 percent, according to the Prison Policy Initiative, a Massachusetts-based nonprofit that does criminal justice research and advocacy. The Marshall Project also found a similar pattern: Between 2000 and 2020, there was nearly a 30 percent increase in the number of arrests of people over 65, despite the overall number of arrests dropping by nearly 40 percent. That spike is especially surprising because people tend to age out of crime: Recidivism rates for older people are significantly lower than they are for younger people. According to a 2017 report by the United States Sentencing Commission that tracked people for eight years after they were released from prison, nearly 68 percent of people who were under 21 at the time of their release were rearrested. By contrast, just over 13 percent of people over 65 were rearrested. So why are arrests among older people suddenly on the rise? The resurging trend across many American cities and states to further criminalize poverty and impose harsher punishments for petty crimes, including things like shoplifting, is partly to blame because the groups of people who become common targets for police are getting older. “People who are unhoused and people suffering from mental health disorders and substance use disorders are also aging,” said Mike Wessler, the communications director at the Prison Policy Initiative. “If you look across the country right now, we’re obviously seeing efforts to ramp up policing of people who are unhoused, people with untreated mental health disorders, people with substance use disorder. So it’s almost a certainty that in the coming years we are probably going to see this problem get worse.” People experiencing cognitive decline, including those suffering from dementia, can also be especially vulnerable during interactions with police. Henry Hart, a 76-year-old with dementia in Maryland, for example, was arrested when he had what his daughter described as a mental breakdown. During the incident, Hart had grown agitated and hit her, and when she called for paramedics to take him to the hospital, police showed up at the scene instead. Officers ultimately arrested him for assault despite his family members’ pleas. After spending time in jail, Hart’s condition seemed to get notably worse, according to his daughter. “As Maryland’s population ages, experts fear that police will encounter people with dementia more often and without recognizing the condition or knowing how to respond to it,” Baltimore Sun reporters Angela Roberts and Cassidy Jensen wrote. “Arrest or jail time can be especially harmful to people with dementia, given their mental and physical vulnerability, experts say.” There’s also evidence that beefing up law enforcement has had a negative impact on older people. While younger people have become less likely to be arrested for drug-related crimes than in the past, arrests of older people for drug-related offenses have spiked. Between 2000 and 2018, for example, drug-related arrests of people over the age of 50 rose by 92 percent — the fastest increase out of any age group. And while substance use disorder among older people is on the rise, addressing the problem through stricter law enforcement is not a practical solution. “It’s a heck of a lot easier to order the National Guard to go stand on subway platforms than it is to figure out how to expand mental health treatment in the state; than to figure out how to address substance use disorders in the state; than to figure out how to address the housing crisis in the state,” Wessler said. The consequences of an aging prison population Studies have shown that incarcerated people have signs of aging at a faster rate than others as a result of prison conditions, and that each year in prison can shave years off of someone’s life. “Health care behind bars is bad even in the best scenarios,” Wessler said. “And that’s kind of by design in a lot of respects: Prisons are not places that are therapeutic or designed to heal; they are places that are designed to punish.” Infectious diseases tend to disproportionately affect prisoners compared to the general population, and the Covid pandemic in particular showed why prisons are especially dangerous for older people. Deaths of inmates rose by nearly 50 percent in the first year of the pandemic, and while mortality rates increased for prisoners across all ages, older people saw the highest surge in mortality. By contrast, among the general population, it was younger people who saw the highest increase in death rates. From a public policy standpoint, the aging prison population is a failure on multiple fronts. Most importantly, prisons cause people to age more quickly and die prematurely. After all, while so-called “natural” deaths — that is, death from disease or old age — make up the vast majority of deaths behind bars, they often receive little scrutiny despite the fact that many of them have been found to be the result of medical neglect. But it’s also costing states a lot of money — money that is clearly not well spent. In Texas, for example, the state’s prison health care costs increased by more than $250 million between 2012 and 2019, although the prison population actually decreased by 3 percent during that time. The state’s prison population aged 55 or older, on the other hand, had increased by 65 percent during that same period, according to data reviewed by the Texas Tribune. Some lawmakers have noted this is unsustainable. As former state Sen. John Whitmire told the Tribune, “Nobody’s tougher on crime than me, but once you’ve incarcerated a guy past the point that he’s a threat to anybody, I’d like to save that $500,000 to put him in a nursing home as a condition of parole, take that money, and spend it on either other public safety efforts or prison costs.” The system as it is, in other words, isn’t benefiting anyone. It’s both deadlier and more financially costly. And from a moral standpoint, it’s hard for a society to defend these outcomes. “Do we morally think that it is good to have people spend their dying years behind bars, especially for drug crimes from the ’80s and ’90s?” Wessler said. “That strikes me as morally wrong in addition to being bad public policy.” Tougher penalties turn into de facto death sentences In many ways, America’s aging prisons are the expected end result of the tough-on-crime approaches and surge in arrests of the 1980s and 1990s. A study by researchers at the the State University of New York at Albany, the University of Pennsylvania, and the RAND Corporation, found that young people who were locked up in the 1990s spent more time behind bars than any other generation, in large part because of tougher and longer sentences, higher recidivism rates, and escalating punishments for people who are rearrested. And that generation is now aging behind bars, unlikely to ever come out of prison. “These extreme sentence lengths paired with narrow release mechanisms — meaning fewer ways to actually leave the system — led to this huge crisis of older adults in American prisons,” Eisen, from the Brennan Center, said. “Because what you had is more people coming in, people staying for longer, and then fewer avenues for release because of mandatory minimums, because of three strikes [laws], because of life without parole.” While many older people in prison today are being sent there for petty crimes, it’s also true that many others, particularly those serving longer sentences, have been convicted of serious crimes. But regardless of what a person is guilty of, the fate of a death behind bars — which can be the result of inadequate medical care and botched treatments — could itself be seen as a cruel punishment, especially when people no longer pose a threat to society. Take, for example, the case of Walter Jordan, another elderly Arizona prisoner whose story is eerily similar to Richard Washington’s. Jordan, a 67-year-old man who was convicted of first-degree murder and kidnapping, was serving a life sentence. In a memo he wrote to a federal judge in 2017, he alleged that the state’s Department of Corrections and its private health care contractor had delayed his treatment for skin cancer. The memo was, in his words, a “notice of impending death.” Jordan wrote that he was in pain and suffering from memory loss. He alleged that other prisoners were also being denied care, and he wrote that as a result of his delayed treatment, he would be “lucky to be alive for 30 days.” Jordan was right: Just over a week later, he was dead. A physician who reviewed his case found that Jordan could have survived had he received adequate care. The situation was “horrific,” the physician wrote. “He suffered excruciating needless pain from cancer that was not appropriately managed in the months prior to his death.” There are more humane approaches. States and the federal government can start, for example, by expanding eligibility for compassionate release, which truncates sentences but tends to be reserved for people with terminal illnesses. Parole — which can sometimes have unintended consequences including strict rules that often result in parolees being sent back to prison — can also be especially beneficial to elderly prisoners who can get better health care outside of prison. And yet, tough-on-crime laws like those recently passed in Louisiana are making it harder for prisoners to be eligible for parole. Governors can also make use of their pardon powers and commute sentences for older prisoners who have shown signs of rehabilitation. And instead of readopting a tough-on-crime approach that will likely result in more arrests of older people, states and the federal government can support social safety net programs that would lift older people out of poverty and homelessness, reducing their odds of being arrested in the first place. America’s jail and prison population peaked in 2008, when more than 2.3 million people were behind bars. And while it has mostly declined since then — especially during Covid, when many prisoners were released as the virus ravaged prisons — it has recently been ticking back up. “We have far too many people in our prisons,” Eisen said. One of the fastest ways to address that problem is to release older people, who generally don’t pose a public safety risk. “This is a population that shouldn’t be behind bars.” But until lawmakers acknowledge that the current prison system is failing some of the most vulnerable people in its care, cases like Washington’s or Jordan’s will become all the more common. And more and more people who are now serving time in an American prison will slowly come to learn that their punishment has morphed into a death sentence.

There’s a significant impediment to maximizing CRISPR’s potential for developing novel therapies: the lack of diversity in genetics research. | Paige Vickers/Vox; Getty Images The genetic data that underpins CRISPR has a big diversity problem. Medicine has entered a new era in which scientists have the tools to change human genetics directly, creating the potential to treat or even permanently cure diseases by editing a few strands of troublesome DNA. And CRISPR, the gene-editing technology whose creators won the Nobel Prize for Chemistry in 2020, is the face of this new normal. CRISPR’s novel harnessing of bacterial proteins to target disease-carrying genes has reshaped medical research over the past decade. While gene-editing itself has been around for more than 30 years, scientists can use CRISPR to edit genomes faster, cheaper, and more precisely than they could with previous gene-editing methods. The method’s novel harnessing of bacterial proteins to target disease-carrying genes has reshaped medical research over the past decade. As a result, investigators have gained far more control over where a gene gets inserted and when it gets turned on. That in turn has opened the door to a new class of better gene therapies — treatments that modify or replace people’s genes to stop a disease. Last December, the US Food and Drug Administration approved the first-ever CRISPR-based therapy, designed to treat sickle cell disease. In February, the treatment, called Casgevy, gained approval from the European Commission as well. It joins the dozen or so pre-CRISPR gene therapies that are already available to patients. But there’s a significant impediment to maximizing CRISPR’s potential for developing novel therapies: the lack of diversity in genetics research. For decades, gene therapy has been defined by both its enormous therapeutic potential, and by the limitations imposed by our imprecise knowledge of human genetics. Even as gene-editing methods, including CRISPR, have become more sophisticated over the years, the data in the genetic databases and biobanks that scientists use to find and develop new treatments are still riddled with biases that could exclude communities of color from enjoying the full benefits of innovations like CRISPR. Unless that gap is closed, CRISPR’s promise won’t be fully fulfilled. Gaps in research Developing effective gene therapies depends on growing our knowledge of the human genome. Data on genes and their correlation with disease have already changed the way cancer researchers think about how to design drugs, and which patients to match with which drug. Scientists have long known that certain genetic mutations that disrupt regular cell functions can cause cancer to develop, and they have tailored drugs to neutralize those mutations. Genetic sequencing technology has sped that progress, allowing researchers to analyze the genetics of tumor samples from cancer patients after they’ve participated in clinical trials to understand why some individuals respond better than others to a drug. In a clinical trial of the colorectal cancer drug cetuximab, investigators found retrospectively that tumors with a mutation in the KRAS gene (which helps govern cell growth) did not respond to treatment. As a result, clinicians are now asked to confirm that patients do not have the mutation in the KRAS gene before they prescribe that particular drug. New drugs have been developed to target those mutations in the KRAS gene. It’s a step-by-step process from the discovery of these disease-related genes to the crafting of drugs that neutralize them. With CRISPR now available to them, many researchers believe that they can speed this process up. The technology is based on — and named after — a unique feature in the bacterial immune system that the organism uses to defend itself against viruses. CRISPR is found naturally in bacteria: It’s short for Clustered Regularly Interspaced Short Palindromic Repeats, and it functions like a mugshot database for bacteria, containing snippets of genetic code from foreign viruses that have tried to invade in the past. When new infections occur, the bacteria deploys RNA segments that scan for viral DNA that matches the mugshots. Special proteins are then dispatched to chop the virus up and neutralize it. Jonathan Wiggs/The Boston Globe via Getty Images The headquarters at CRISPR Therapeutics, which received the first FDA approval for a treatment that uses the CRISPR gene-editing technology. To develop CRISPR into a biotech platform, this protein-RNA complex was adapted from bacteria and inserted into human and animal cells, where it proved similarly effective at searching for and snipping strands of DNA. Using CRISPR in humans requires a few adjustments. Scientists have to teach the system to search through human DNA, which means that it will need a different “mugshot database” than what the bacteria originally needed. Critical to harnessing this natural process is artificial RNA, known as a guide RNA. These guide RNAs are designed to match genes found in humans. In theory, these guide RNAs search for and find a specific DNA sequence associated with a specific disease. The special protein attached to the guide RNA then acts like molecular scissors to cut the problematic gene. CRISPR’s therapeutic potential was evident in the breakthrough sickle cell treatment approved by the FDA late last year. What made sickle cell such an attractive target is not just that it affects around 20 million people or more worldwide, but that it is caused by a mutation in a single gene, which makes it simpler to study than a disease caused by multiple mutations. Sickle cell is one of the most common disorders worldwide that is caused by a mutation in a single gene. It was also the first to be characterized at a genetic level, making it a promising candidate for gene therapy. In sickle cell disease, a genetic mutation distorts the shape of a person’s hemoglobin, which is the protein that helps red blood cells carry and deliver oxygen from the lungs to tissues throughout the body. For people with sickle cell disease, their red blood cells look like “sickles” instead of the normal discs. As a result, they can get caught in blood vessels, blocking blood flow and causing issues like pain, strokes, infections, and death. Since the 1990s, clinicians have observed that sickle cell patients with higher levels of fetal hemoglobin tend to live longer. A series of genome-wide association studies from 2008 pointed to the BCL11A gene as a possible target for therapeutics. These association studies establish the relationships between specific genes and diseases, identifying candidates for CRISPR gene editing. Casgevy’s new CRISPR-derived treatment targets a gene called BCL11A. Inactivating this gene stops the mutated form of hemoglobin from being made and increases the production of normal non-sickled fetal hemoglobin, which people usually stop making after birth. Out of the 45 patients who have received Casgevy since the start of the trials, 28 of the 29 eligible patients who have stayed on long enough to have their results analyzed reported that they have been free of severe pain crises. Once the treatment moves out of clinical settings, its exact effects can vary. And if the underlying data set doesn’t reflect the diversity of the patient population, the gene therapies derived from them might not work the same for every person. The nuances of genetics Sickle cell disease as the first benefactor of CRISPR therapy makes sense because it’s a relatively simple disorder that has been studied for a long time. The genetic mutation causing it was found in 1956. But ironically, the same population that could benefit most from Casgvey may miss out on the full benefits of future breakthrough treatments. Scientists developing CRISPR treatments depend on what’s known as a reference genome, which is meant to be a composite representation of a “normal” human genome that can be used to identify genes of interest to target for treating a disease. However, most of the available reference genomes are representative of white Europeans. That’s a problem because not everybody’s DNA is identical: Recent sequencing of African genomes shows that they have 10 percent more DNA than the standard reference genome available to researchers. Researchers have theorized that this is because most modern humans came out of Africa. As populations diverged and reconcentrated, genetic bottlenecks happened, which resulted in a loss of genetic variation compared to the original population. Most genome-wide association studies are also biased in the same way: They have a lot of data from white people and not a lot from people of color. So while those studies can help identify genes of importance that could lead to effective treatments for the population whose genes make up the majority of the reference data — i.e., white people — the same treatments may not work as well for other nonwhite populations. “Broadly, there’s been an issue with human genetics research — there’s been a major under-representation of people of African ancestry, both in the US and elsewhere,” said Sarah Tishkoff, professor of genetics and biology at the University of Pennsylvania. “Without including these diverse populations, we’re missing out on that knowledge that could perhaps result in better therapeutics or better diagnostics.” Even in the case of the notorious breast cancer gene BRCA1, where a single gene mutation can have a serious clinical impact and is associated with an increased risk of developing cancer, underlying mutations within the gene “tend to differ in people of different ancestries,” Tishkoff said. These differences, whether large or small, can matter. Although the vast majority of human genomes are the same, a small fraction of the letters making up our genes can differ from person to person and from population to population, with potentially significant medical implications. Sometimes during sequencing, genetic variations of “unknown significance” appear. These variants could be clinically important, but because of the lack of diversity in previous research populations, no one has studied them closely enough to understand their impact. “If all the research is being done in people of predominantly European ancestry, you’re only going to find those variants,” Tishkoff said. Tammy Ljungblad/The Kansas City Star/Tribune News Service via Getty Images A patient receives treatment for sickle-cell disease in 2018, prior to the FDA’s approval in late 2023 of a new CRISPR-based therapy for the condition. Those limitations affect scientists up and down the developmental pipeline. For researchers using CRISPR technology in preclinical work, the lack of diversity in the genome databases can make it harder to identify the possible negative effect of such genetic variation on the treatments they’re developing. Sean Misek, a postdoctoral researcher at the Broad Institute of MIT and Harvard, started developing a project with the goal of investigating the differences in the genetic patterns of tumors from patients of European descent compared to patients of African descent. CRISPR has become a versatile tool. Not only can it be used for treatments, but it can also be used for diagnostics and basic research. He and his colleagues intended to use CRISPR to screen for those differences because it can evaluate the effects of multiple genes at once, as opposed to the traditional method of testing one gene at a time. “We know individuals of different ancestry groups have different overall clinical responses to cancer treatments,” Misek said. “Individuals of recent African descent, for example, have worse outcomes than individuals of European descent, which is a problem that we were interested in trying to understand more.” What they encountered instead was a roadblock. When Misek’s team tried to design CRISPR guides, they found that their guides matched the genomes in the cells of people with European and East Asian ancestry, whose samples made up most of the reference genome, but not on cells from people of South Asian or African ancestry, who are far less represented in databases. In combination with other data biases in cancer research, the guide RNA mismatch has made it more difficult to investigate the tumor biology of non-European patients. Genetic variations across ancestry groups not only affect whether CRISPR technology works at all, but they can also lead to unforeseen side effects when the tool makes cuts in places outside of the intended genetic target. Such side effects of “off-target” gene edits could theoretically include cancer. “A big part of developing CRISPR therapy is trying to figure out if there are off-targets. Where? And if they exist, do they matter?” said Daniel Bauer, an attending physician at Dana-Farber/Boston Children’s Cancer and Blood Disorders Center. To better predict potential off-target edits, Bauer collaborated with Luca Pinello, associate professor at Massachusetts General Hospital and Harvard Medical School, who had helped develop a tool called CRISPRme that makes projections based on personal and population-level variations in genetics. To test it, they examined the guide RNA being used for sickle cell disease treatment, and found an off-target edit almost exclusively present in cells donated by a patient of African ancestry. It is currently unclear if this off-target edit detected by the CRISPRme tool has any negative consequences. When the FDA approved the sickle-cell therapy in December 2023, regulators required a post-marketing study to look into off-target effects. Any off-target edits affecting a person’s blood should be easily detected in the blood cells, and drawing blood is easier to do than collecting cells from an internal organ, for example. The genetic variant where the off-target effect occurred can be found in approximately every 1 in 10 people with African ancestry. “The fact that we actually were able to find a donor who carried this variant was kind of luck,” Bauer said. “If the cells we were using were only of European ancestry, it would’ve been even harder to find.” “Most of these [off-target] effects probably won’t cause any problems,” he said. “But I think we also have these great technologies, so that’s part of our responsibility to look as carefully as we can.” To CRISPR or not to CRISPR These issues recur again and again as investigators hunt for novel treatments. Katalin Susztak, professor of medicine and genetics at the University of Pennsylvania, thinks one promising candidate for a future CRISPR therapy is a standout gene for kidney disease: APOL1. Researchers identified the gene when they looked into kidney disease risk in African Americans. While genome-wide association studies turned up thousands of distinct genes increasing risk for people of European ancestry, in African Americans, this single gene was responsible for “3 to 5 times higher risk of kidney disease in patients,” said Susztak. The APOL1 variant is common among African Americans because it protects people from developing African sleeping sickness, which is spread by the Tsetse fly present across much of the continent. This is similar to the story of the sickle cell mutation, which can protect people from malaria. “The variant is maybe only 5,000 years old, so this variant has not arisen in Europe, Asia, or anywhere else. Just in West Africa,” Susztak said. “But because of the slave trades, West Africans were brought to the United States, so millions of people in the United States have this variant.” The variant also predisposes people to develop cardiovascular disease, high blood pressure, and COVID-related disease, “which maybe explains why there was an increased incidence of deaths in African Americans during COVID than in Europeans,” Susztak said. “APOL1 is potentially a very interesting target [for CRISPR] because the disease association is strong.” A CRISPR treatment for kidney disease is currently being investigated, but using the tool comes with complications. Cutting the APOL1 gene would set off an immune response, Susztak noted, so they will have to somehow prevent undesirable side effects, or find a related, but editable gene, like they did with sickle cell. An alternative RNA-based strategy utilizing CRISPR is also in the works. DNA needs to be transcribed into a messenger RNA sequence first before it can be turned into proteins. Instead of permanently altering the genome, RNA editing alters the sequence of RNAs, which can then change what proteins are produced. The effects are less permanent, however, lasting for a few months instead of forever — which can be advantageous for treating temporary medical conditions. And it may turn out that gene therapy is simply not the right approach to the problem. Sometimes, a more conventional approach still works best. Susztak said that a small molecule drug developed by Vertex — which works similarly to most drugs except special classes like gene therapies or biologics — to inhibit the function of the APOL1 protein has enjoyed positive results in early clinical trials. An outlook on the future of CRISPR Even with these limitations, more CRISPR treatments are coming down the pike. As of early last year, more than 200 people have been treated with experimental CRISPR therapies for cancers, blood disorders, infections, and more. In the developmental pipeline is a CRISPR-based therapeutic from Intellia Therapeutics that treats transthyretin amyloidosis, a rare condition affecting the function of the heart tissues and nerves. The drug has performed well in early trials and is now recruiting participants for a Phase III study. Another CRISPR drug from Intellia for hereditary angioedema, a condition that causes severe swelling throughout the body, is slated to enter Phase III later this year. As the CRISPR boom continues, some research groups are slowly improving the diversity of their genetic sources. The All of Us program from the National Institutes of Health, which aims to find the biological, environmental, and lifestyle factors that contribute to health, has analyzed 245,000 genomes to date, over 40 percent of which came from participants who were not of European ancestry. They found new genetic markers for diabetes that have never been identified before. Then there’s the Human Pangenome project, which aims to create a reference genome that captures more global diversity. The first draft of its proposal was released last May. Another project called the PAGE study, funded by the National Human Genome Research Institute and the National Institute on Minority Health and Health Disparities, is working to include more ancestrally diverse populations in genome-wide association studies. Getty Images/Westend61 New projects are underway to gather genetic data from underrepresented people and improve scientists’ ability to develop effective CRISPR therapies. But at the current pace, experts predict that it will take years to reach parity in our genetic databases. And the scientific community must also build trust with the communities it’s trying to help. The US has a murky history with medical ethics, especially around race. Take the Tuskegee experiment that charted the progression of syphilis in Black American men while hiding the true purpose of the study from the participants and withholding their ability to seek treatment when it became available, or the controversy over Henrietta Lacks’ cervical cells, which were taken and used in research without her consent. Those are just two prominent historical abuses that have eroded trust between minority communities and the country’s medical system, Tishkoff said. That history has made it more difficult to collect samples from marginalized communities and add them to these critical data sets. Where the research is being done, where the clinical trials are being held, as well as who’s doing the research, can all have an impact on which patients participate. The Human Genetics & Genomics Workforce Survey Report published by the American Society of Human Genetics in 2022 found that 67 percent of the genomic workforce identified as white. Add in the financial burden of developing new treatments when using a reference genome, or a pre-made biobank from past efforts to collect and organize a large volume of biological samples, saves time and costs. In the race to bring CRISPR treatments to market, those shortcuts offered valuable efficiency to drug makers. What this means is that the “first-generation” of CRISPR therapeutics might therefore be blunter instruments than they might otherwise be. However, if improvements can be made to make sure the source genomes reflect a wider range of people, Pinello believes that later generations of CRISPR will be more personalized and therefore more effective for more people. Finding the genes and making drugs that work is, of course, momentous — but ultimately, that’s only half the battle. The other worry physicians like Susztak have is whether patients will be able to afford and access these innovative treatments. There is still an overwhelming racial disparity in clinical trial enrollment. Studies have found that people of color are more likely to suffer from chronic illness and underuse medications like insulin compared to their white counterparts. Gene therapies easily rack up price tags in the millions, and insurance companies, including the Centers for Medicare and Medicaid Services, are still trying to figure out how to pay for them. “Because it’s the pharmaceutical industry, if they don’t turn around profit, if they cannot test the drug, or if people are unwilling to take it, then this inequity is going to be worsened,” said Susztak. “We are essentially going to be creating something that makes things worse even though we are trying to help.”

Periodical cicadas in Takoma Park, Maryland, that emerged in 2021 as part of Brood X. | Chip Somodevilla/Getty Images The arrival of Brood XIX and Brood XIII will send shockwaves through forest food webs. This spring is a very good time to be a bird. In forests across the Midwest and Southeast, the ground is about to erupt with billions of loud, protein-packed cicadas. They’ll buzz about for a few weeks as they search for mates, providing snacks for pretty much every living creature in the forest, from songbirds and swans to frogs and even fish. This is an especially big year for these red-eyed bugs: Brood XIX and Brood XIII — which pop up every 13 years and 17 years, respectively — are emerging at once. The last time such an event happened was the spring of 1803, when Thomas Jefferson was president. It will be hundreds of years before it happens again. While the insect explosion will be brief, it will shape forests for years to come. The binge-fest that birds enjoy during these periods supersize their families and, in turn, shift the eating and hunting patterns of many other species. These effects send ripples throughout the ecosystem. As one recent study put it, pulses of periodical cicadas can “rewire” entire forest food webs. Call it the butterfly cicada effect. Why billions of cicadas erupt all at once For most of their lives — either 13 or 17 years, depending on the brood — periodical cicadas live several inches underground, slurping up sap from plant roots with their straw-like mouths. Then, when the soil temperature hits about 64 degrees Fahrenheit, they emerge, typically after sunset. Cicadas in more southern states, like Alabama, usually emerge in April or early May, whereas those in colder states like Illinois tend to appear later in the spring. The teenage insects then march up plants, trees, and fences, where they metamorphose into winged adults. That’s when giant groups of males start singing loudly to attract females (you know, lady bugs). During these events, a single acre of land can have more than 1 million cicadas on it. That’s roughly 2,700 pounds of bugs. Sean Rayford/Getty Images A Brood XIX cicada sheds its exoskeleton on a tree in Chapel Hill, North Carolina, on May 1. Sean Rayford/Getty Images Here, two adult cicadas from this year’s Brood XIX are preparing to find mates. This mass eruption, scientists believe, is strategic. “They effectively satiate their predators,” Louie Yang, an entomologist at the University of California Davis, told me a few years ago, when the famous Brood X emerged. The cicada defense strategy is to flood the forests so that predators become so full they literally can’t stomach another bite. That leaves plenty of insects left to mate and lay eggs that will become the next generation of cicadas. This approach seems to work for cicadas, and it’s an absolute delight for birds. Birds lose their minds during cicada outbreaks Birds can be fussy about their food. Some prefer plants, like the trumpeter swan, while others specialize in seeds or small insects, like chickadees. Those preferences get tossed out during cicada explosions. The birds stop what they’re doing and go to town on the bug buffet. During the Brood X emergence in 2021, researchers documented more than 80 different avian species feeding on cicadas, including small birds that couldn’t fit them in their mouths. Dan Gruner A grackle eating a cicada. “We saw chickadees — tiny, tiny little birds — grab the cicada and drag it to the ground with their body weight and then peck it apart,” said Zoe Getman-Pickering, an ecologist at University of Massachusetts Amherst, who led the research. She also saw purple martins, which typically catch small insects like winged ants and flies from the air, go after loads of cicadas. “There was one family of purple martins that got 23 cicadas into their nest in three hours or so,” Getman-Pickering said. This feeding frenzy can seriously benefit some birds. Simply put, more food can lead to more babies. “Following emergences, you do tend to get an increase in a lot of the apparent avian predator populations,” Walt Koenig, an ornithologist at Cornell University and research zoologist emeritus at UC Berkeley, told me in 2021. One analysis he co-authored, based on 37 years of data, linked cicada eruptions to a population bump in a number of species including red-headed woodpeckers and common grackles. Remarkably, many of these knock-on effects lasted for years, Koenig said. The number of blue jays, for example, was significantly higher even three years after the cicada eruptions. “These results indicate that, at least in some species, the effects of cicada emergences are detectable years after the event itself,” Koenig and his co-authors wrote. Fat caterpillars, rejoice It’s not just birds that are benefitting. During big emergences, avian predators are eating so many cicadas that they eat much less of everything else — including caterpillars. That means caterpillars get a rare reprieve from the constant threat of attack, at least from birds. Researchers have actually measured this. In the years surrounding Brood X, Getman-Pickering and her collaborators filled forests in Maryland with fake caterpillars made of clay. They then measured how many of them had signs of bird strikes — beak marks indicating that birds tried to eat them. Martha Weiss A caterpillar made of clay with signs of bird strikes. In May, when Brood X was emerging, the portion of caterpillars with strike marks fell dramatically, from about 30 percent in a typical year to below 10 percent during the emergence, according to her study, published in 2023. She also looked at real caterpillars. Remarkably, the number of them roughly doubled in the forests she studied during the emergence, relative to the two following years. “It was pretty staggering how many caterpillars that we saw,” Getman-Pickering said. A lot of them were extra plump, too, like the spiny larvae of the dagger moth. When there are few cicadas, the juiciest caterpillars are often picked off first; they’re much easier for birds to spot. But during cicada eruptions, caterpillars are free to eat and grow at their leisure. “The biggest, most visible caterpillars benefited immensely from the release from predation,” she said. John Lill A plump caterpillar in the genus Acronicta that the research team found in the forest. Trees might prefer life without cicadas A surge in caterpillars, meanwhile, has effects of its own. These animals famously eat leaves. So when birds eat fewer of them, the cicadas chew their way through more of the forest canopy. Getman-Pickering’s recent study measured this too: In the summer of 2021, after Brood X debuted, oak trees experienced “a spike in cumulative leaf damage,” the paper states. A doubling of the number of caterpillars meant a doubling of the damage, she said. It’s not clear what that ultimately means for forest health. Previous studies have shown that cicadas themselves, however, can harm trees. After breeding, females carve slits into branches and lay eggs, which often damages the wood. Research by Koenig, of Cornell, found that oak trees produced fewer acorns in a year with a cicada emergence, and in the following year. Older studies have also shown that emergences can slow the rate of tree growth. The long-term picture is hazier. Unpublished data from Karin Berghardt and Kelsey McGurrin, researchers at the University of Maryland, shows that trees seem to bounce back from the harm caused by egg-laying. There’s also some research suggesting that cicada carcasses could actually fertilize the forest floor. Ultimately, what all of these studies show is that cicadas can transform entire ecosystems in just a few short weeks. Think about that the next time you walk through the woods: The birds, the butterflies, the trees themselves are all shaped, in some way, by one very weird bug.