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How the Battle of the Little Bighorn reshaped U.S. policy toward Native Americans

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It’s been 150 years since the Battle of the Little Bighorn, one of the most famous and enduring events in American history. While Native Americans were victorious, the battle reshaped the government’s policy toward Indigenous people and still resonates so deeply for so many today. Judy Woodruff reports for her series, Crossroads: America at 250.

Notice: Transcripts are machine and human generated and lightly edited for accuracy. They may contain errors.

Amna Nawaz:

It's been 150 years since the Battle of the Little Bighorn, one of the most famous and enduring events in American history.

While Native Americans were victorious, Judy Woodruff reports on how the battle reshaped the government's policy towards indigenous people, and why it still resonates so deeply for so many today.

It's part of her series Crossroads: America at 250.

Judy Woodruff:

Along this stretch of sweeping prairie on the Crow Reservation in Montana, members of more than a dozen Native American tribes have gathered for what's known as a Victory Ride.

It commemorates the end of the Battle of the Little Bighorn in 1876, or what Native Americans here often refer to as the Battle of the Greasy Grass.

Trina Lone Hill, Oglala Sioux Tribe:

I still look at it as a moment in history that we should be proud of. They're the last ones to surrender. They're the last ones to come onto the reservations and accept our new fate, basically.

Judy Woodruff:

Trina Lone Hill, a member of the Oglala Sioux tribe in South Dakota, helped organize the Victory Ride. She says she's been coming to this annual event for more than 30 years and hearing stories of her ancestor Susie Shot-In-the-Eye.

Trina Lone Hill:

My great-great-great-grandmother fought here alongside her husband and her sons. And so I continue to tell that to my children. This is why we're here. This is why we fight.

Man:

This is the 150th anniversary, and it's good to see everybody here.

Judy Woodruff:

One hundred and fifty years later, it's an especially poignant moment for Native Americans, as the nation celebrates its own anniversary, 250 years since the signing of the Declaration of Independence, the founding document that culminates with a list of grievances against the British crown and refers to Native Americans as merciless Indian savages.

Ned Blackhawk:

One of the things about the founding is that, when you establish something, it creates enduring legacies.

Judy Woodruff:

Ned Blackhawk is an historian at Yale University and the author of "The Rediscovery of America: Native Peoples and the Unmaking of U.S. History."

Ned Blackhawk:

That grievance is something obviously that Native Americans have a lot of trouble with, myself included, because it is vilifying and homogenizing and representing indigenous Americans as if they were other than American.

Judy Woodruff:

It's a giant contradiction.

Ned Blackhawk:

It's a giant contradiction. It's an enormous paradox that sits at the heart of America. These are the most misunderstood subject of American history, and we need to understand them to understand ourselves more fully.

Donovan Taylor, Researcher, "The History They Tell: Oral History from Native American and First Nations People Regarding the Battle of the Little Bighorn": We're still here today. We persevered the Europeanism and colonialism and we're adapting.

Judy Woodruff:

Donovan Taylor is a Northern Cheyenne tribal member and a researcher for "The History They Tell," an oral history project that interviewed hundreds of descendants of Native Americans and First Nations people who fought at the Battle of the Little Bighorn.

Leon Eagle Tail, Gros Ventre Tribe:

This battlefield is just a reminder of what we can accomplish if we all get together.

Judy Woodruff:

Leon Eagle Tail and Chester Whiteman traveled from Washington state and Oklahoma to be here. They joined thousands of other Native Americans from across the country who set up camps and teepees along the banks of Montana's Little Bighorn River.

Chester Whiteman, Cheyenne Tribe:

We have always been like a second-class citizen. We weren't citizens until 1924. But we were here before anybody else came.

Leon Eagle Tail:

We experienced a great genocide. We are recovering. But a lot of times, it takes things like this to help us remember what we went through.

Judy Woodruff:

This remembrance includes a reenactment of the famous battle that started after the U.S. Army's Seventh Cavalry, under Lieutenant Colonel George Armstrong Custer attacked a village of mostly Lakota Sioux, Northern Cheyenne, and Arapaho Native Americans who had gathered in defiance of orders to return to reservations, the military's goal, to force these nomadic tribes back onto reservations as the United States continued to push farther West.

Donovin Sprague, Lakota Sioux Historian:

The big thing was gold in the Black Hills. See, two years before this, Custer discovered gold in the Black Hills, so there was a push to take that land.

Judy Woodruff:

Donovin Sprague is a Lakota historian and a descendant of both Chief Hump and the legendary Native American warrior Crazy Horse, both of whom fought here.

Donovin Sprague:

We had a very big village just right over here that was just kind of like bursting at the seams. And then as soldiers came in and were detected, they come out to meet that resistance. After that, it was a big turning point. The soldiers were dismounted, and they're just running to Last Stand Hill.

Judy Woodruff:

More than 260 U.S. soldiers were killed, including Custer, who is believed to have died here on what is now known as Last Stand Hill.

But it was a victory that would soon bring devastating consequences.

Ned Blackhawk:

It's tragically ironic that the defeat of this relatively small party in Montana will set in motion a policy reform that convinces the federal government that it has to do more aggressive intrusions into Indian country.

And it begins punishing these recalcitrant tribal members, as it sees it, in ways that are unprecedented, the removal of children to the boarding schools, the subdivision of their lands, and begin a process of what is known as Americanization that tragically dismantles essential economies, often governments, and even family relations across Indian country.

Judy Woodruff:

It's a history that many Native Americans say the nation has yet to fully reckon with.

Chester Whiteman:

Declaration of Independence, we're still classified as savages. That needs to change. There's a lot of things that need to change, because we're not savages. We're human beings.

Judy Woodruff:

And this legacy of mistreatment continues to cast a long shadow.

Today, Native Americans have the highest poverty and lowest life expectancy rates of any racial or ethnic group in the United States.

Leon Eagle Tail:

From the Trail of Tears to being put on the reservation in Oklahoma called Indian Territories, to where they put us on reservations here, that's the reason why this battle took place, because they had orders to put us back on the reservations.

It's no different than the concentration camps that the Jews had to survive in Germany, no difference.

Judy Woodruff:

After the Battle of the Little Bighorn, more Western lands would be taken. And Ned Blackhawk says, even in defeat. George Armstrong Custer would become an emblem of American identity, portrayed in countless advertisements...

Narrator:

Errol Flynn in his greatest role.

Judy Woodruff:

... and in feature films like the 1941 Western "They Died With Their Boots On," starring Errol Flynn.

Ned Blackhawk:

The West becomes after 1876 the most imagined region of the United States. And Custer becomes one of its most singular figures. So this vision of Custer in many ways becomes a vision of America itself.

Woman:

Introduce yourself.

Judy Woodruff:

But today there are new efforts to begin changing that vision.

Woman:

Just talk to each other like you guys are at home, OK?

Judy Woodruff:

Native American journalists urged tribal members to record their own family histories and stories of ancestors who fought here. And for those we spoke with, it was a time for reflection.

Donovan Taylor:

I don't like that feeling of animosity. I want to be at peace. Our ancestors already done that. Why should we have to do that too?

Judy Woodruff:

And for many others, it was a moment to acknowledge both the pain of the present while remaining hopeful about the future.

Trina Lone Hill:

You know, I see so much despair on the reservation. We talk -- there's so much -- countless stories about poverty and alcoholism and suicide, all of these things that are modern problems.

I want to see -- I want to bring our kids out of that. I want them to feel this pride. I want them to I guess get a different perspective.

Leon Eagle Tail:

We are the survivors, him and me. We survived. But we want our children and grandchildren to thrive. So that's why I'm here.

Chester Whiteman:

Everybody talks about healing and things like that. But both parties have to heal together. And for a long time, it wasn't like that. Nobody would stick the hand out to try to help the other side. And, today, it's starting to turn, where everybody wants to hear our story, the real story.

Judy Woodruff:

A story still being written, as the nation marks its 250th anniversary.

For the "PBS News Hour," I'm Judy Woodruff in Crow Agency, Montana.

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The adorable love story behind Wikipedia’s 'high five' photos

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One reason I love the Wikipedia article for “high five” is that it’s one of those entries about an utterly basic aspect of everyday life that reads like it was written by a group of aliens observing human beings: “Its meaning varies with the context of use but can include as a greeting, congratulations, or celebration.”

But the high-five Wikipedia page is among my very favorites not because of its writing, but because of its iconic photos — specifically the ones in the section on the “too slow” variation:

I love the aughts fashion, the use of the word “victim,” and the fact that “finger-guns” gets a hyperlink in the last caption. The woman in the photo gives an Oscar-worthy performance in the final image — she looks like she’s on the verge of tears — and her male counterpart couldn’t look more smug. The pictures are endearing and capture a kind of humanity you don’t find in your average stock photo.

The sequence was uploaded on August 14, 2008 by Bgubitz, a user who describes themself as an accountant who likes “sunsets and long walks on the beach.” Today, photos from the “too slow” series are featured on Wikipedia pages in eight languages and get more than 200,000 annual views.

A quick search of “high five wikipedia photo” shows that the images are an object of fascination for many others besides me. People around the world have noted that the pair looks a lot like Rachel and Chandler from Friends. But not everyone is a fan. In 2020, one particularly passionate Wikipedia user named Kugihot suggested the photos be removed because they were “simply a waste of precious Wikipedia public bytes.”

Writing on the article’s talk page, the forum where editors discuss the article at hand, the critic went on: “My main concern that is especially out of place to me is the final image which depicts the use of finger guns, which is arguably completely and utterly irrelevant in the context of different variations of high fives.”

To me, the fact that the photos inspired such extreme pedantry speaks to their power. Kugihot’s ridiculous suggestion was denied by other editors. Long live the high-five photos, finger guns and all!

I became increasingly convinced that there was nothing platonic about this high five.

Thanks to an overabundance of time alone with my laptop and a growing pile of responsibilities that I wanted to push off, I found myself fixated on these photos recently. I became increasingly convinced that there was nothing platonic about this high five — I mean, you can feel the chemistry through the screen. Just look at her smile in the first frame! Look at their gazes in the third frame! There’s no way two people so young and so beautiful could exchange such a flirty high five without feeling flutters of the heart.

I couldn’t help but wonder what their story was — and what had happened to them.

So I launched an investigation. I figured that the high-fivers must have some sort of internet presence, so I started combing the web for mentions of the photos. I saw that they’d graced the front page of Reddit several times, and one such post had a compelling comment:

“Fun fact: me and my wife (then girlfriend) are demonstrating the ‘too slow’ high five on the Wikipedia high five page.”

My eyes widened and my heart raced. Searching through the activity of that commenter’s account, I quickly gathered that the high-five guy loved indie-folk music, bourbon, and crossword puzzles. He had little kids, a soft spot for Yosemite National Park, and a Disneyland pass, which made me think he was from California. He seemed refreshingly wholesome (he provided calculus help to anonymous internet strangers on r/math) and sweet (he gave genuine advice to lovelorn posts posters in r/relationships).

He didn’t post often — only about once a month or so — and at first I was having difficulty finding anything that could confirm that he was indeed the finger-gunning high-fiver. But soon enough, I scrolled to a comment that confirmed my suspicion.

In a discussion of the photos in an r/askreddit post, he left a response deep in the comments: “For the 3-4 people who might see this, here is a picture of me and her on our wedding day.”

Tim and Tamara O’Nan, the Wikipedia high five photo couple

Tim and Tamara O’Nan

Photo evidence! “Victim misses” had become “victim Mrs.”!

Detective work

By this point, I’d read the guy high-fiver’s decade-old musings about philosophy and his recaps of Disneyland trips, which made me feel like I knew him on a personal level. But I still didn’t have any way to identify him.

Not surprisingly, searching Google for middle-aged men in California who like national parks and Sufjan Stevens didn’t yield anything of worth. I tried messaging him but didn’t get a response.

Then, on a recent snowy Sunday afternoon, I poured myself another cup of coffee and hunkered down at my laptop in pursuit of my white whale.

I went back to the Wikipedia profile of the “long walks on the beach”–loving account. It had only made 76 edits, which isn’t many, and hadn’t been active in a decade. On the user’s talk page, some Wikipedians had written to say how much they liked the high-five picture. “Awesome idea for the photos,” wrote one user in July 2009. “Doesn’t hurt that your girl’s a cutie too.”

Did they meet the night of the high five? Were they already together? Was it the finger guns that sparked their love story?

Was bgubitz the same person as high-five guy? I put on my thinking cap. The three pieces of information that bgubitz had revealed (accountant, likes sunsets, likes long walks on the beach) seemed to match the sweet, math-loving person on Reddit, but then again, two of those three descriptors are among the most generic traits ever. (Find me someone who doesn’t enjoy sunsets!)

Searching “bgubitz accountant” yielded an accountant named Ben Gubitz, who unfortunately looked nothing like the guy in the high-five photo. But Ben Gubitz’s Facebook friends were public, so I perused them until — voila! I finally found the high-fivers: Tim and Tamara O’Nan from Southern California. Nearly 14 years later, they’d barely aged, and now they had two kids in elementary school.

Yet I did not feel entirely satisfied. I wanted to know the whole story. Did they meet the night of the high five? Were they already together? Was it the finger guns that sparked their love story?

Pretty soon, the three of us were together on a Zoom call.

Birthday celebration

“It was my birthday, and we had just come back from a birthday dinner with some friends,” Tim explains on our video chat. “You can see some unwrapped birthday gifts in the background, and I’m pretty sure the shirt I was wearing was a gift from Ben, who was the friend that convinced us to pose for photos for Wikipedia.”

They tell me that he and Tamara are not big high-fivers, and they have no personal connection to the “down low/too slow” maneuver. The participants just realized that move didn’t have any photos on Wikipedia and saw it as an opportunity.

Tim and Tamara tell me that they met three years before the photo was taken. Tamara, who was in college, went to a restaurant in Newport Beach, Calif. where Tim, who was 30 at the time, was performing guitar and singing. Tamara thought he was hot. Tim thought the same about Tamara. Pretty soon, they were a couple.

But by the time the high-five photo shoot happened, Tim was about to move to Scotland to start a Ph.D. program in theology at the University of Aberdeen. Tamara was in a transitional period too: She had graduated from UCLA and was preparing for a physician’s assistant grad program. Because of their uncertain futures and the prospect of going long-distance, it didn’t make sense to stay together.

“Whenever the photos go viral, we get texts from friends and acquaintances. It’s our five minutes of fame.”

Or so they thought. “I got eight months in the divinity program and realized I didn’t want to do it anymore. I felt aimless,” Tim says. “I had to get out of the ivory tower and figure out the basics of my life.”

Tamara has a different take: “The romantic version of the story is that he saw on social media that I had gone on a date with someone else and decided to fly home and marry me.”

Tim proposed soon after his return from Scotland, and they’ve been married for almost 11 years now. “We have two daughters who are four and seven,” says Tamara, “and we actually live right down the street from where those photos were taken.” Tim runs a math-tutoring business, and Tamara is a physician’s assistant.

I ask if they’ve ever been recognized by strangers in public, and they laugh and say no. But people they know have seen the photos circulating on meme accounts or Reddit. “Whenever the photos go viral,” Tim says, “we get texts from friends and acquaintances. It’s our five minutes of fame.”

I suggest that they recreate the photos, and they enthusiastically agree. Nearly 14 years after the original shots, they staged a reenactment in their house, finger-guns included:

Tim and Tamara O’Nan

Tim and Tamara O’Nan

Tim and Tamara O’Nan

Tim and Tamara O’Nan

Even better, they sent along these heartwarming family shots:

Tim and Tamara O’Nan

Tim and Tamara O’Nan

Tim and Tamara O’Nan

Tim and Tamara O’Nan

“I’m so grateful that the moment in my life the internet has clung on to for eternity happens to be with my one true love… phew,” Tamara writes to me after the family shoot. “Be careful what you put out there.”

Tim adds that the young man in the original photos would never have believed it if he got a glimpse at these 2022 pictures. “It was just so unlikely at the time,” he writes. “I was just about to travel halfway around the world for school, so our future together was uncertain. But in the end, it all worked out so perfectly.

“Thirteen years later, I’m married to the love of my life with two amazing daughters, and I’m happier than I’ve ever been. It’s more than I could have ever imagined. High five!”

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chrisamico
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Christopher Nolan's Collapsing Worlds | Past Lives on Patreon

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How to plant a nuclear plant in Iran

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UPDATED, with response of Google
Tonight I typed just one sentence into Google Earth and put refugees near the Mexican border. Then I planted a nuclear plant in Iran. Then I put a fatal crash on a street in Amsterdam. Google’s own satellite imagery underneath all three. What on earth is Google doing?

Google spent twenty years building the reference the world checks against.

Today it added a button that makes things up. Google Earth on the web now has image generation built in, powered by Nano Banana 2. It went live today, worldwide, for everyone, with no waitlist and no application.

You open Google Earth. You zoom to any coordinates on the planet. You click create image. You type what you want to see. The model takes Google’s satellite, aerial and 3D imagery of that exact spot as its starting point and gives you back a photorealistic picture. If it isn’t quite right you refine it.

I added a hospital and a bomb crater in Gaza in seconds with Google Earth. I can’t believe I just typed this.

Google’s own description of the “fun feature” is that Nano Banana “creates concepts grounded in the real world.”

Grounded in the real world means the invented thing is welded to genuine coordinates, drawn on genuine imagery, often in the same colours and the same light and at the same angle as the picture beside it.

The forgery does not have to look convincing on its own. It inherits the credibility of the map it was born on.

The announcement of 487 words, written by Bryan Horowitz, Product Manager, Google Earth from just a few hours ago baffled me. His instruction to the planet is six words long:

type whatever you want to see

That is the gate. That is the whole gate.

Elsewhere in the same post he suggests it’s fun to let your imagination run wild.

The post opens by asking whether you have ever looked at an empty lot in your neighbourhood and imagined a community garden. It closes by telling you to pick a spot on the map and start bringing your ideas to life.

It is live in every country tonight. Free. No application.

Somebody is going to bring an idea to life before morning. It will not be a community garden, trust me.

This new feature will guaranteed lead to governments, factions fighting infowars, trolls etc.

A government official wants a strike to look bigger than it was. A faction wants a hospital to look flattened, or intact, depending which one is holding it this week. A troll wants forty thousand reposts before lunch.

This morning all three needed a screenshot, a second browser tab and a little patience. Tonight they need a sentence.

Google responded to this article and said:

We take misinformation seriously - every image created with Nano Banana in Google Earth includes the SynthID digital watermark, so if someone is unsure about an image, they can ask the Gemini app or use Lens in Search to see if the image was Al-generated. In addition, we prevent image creation on harmful topics and are continually updating our protections.

One clause in there is checkable tonight, so I checked it. Google prevents image creation on harmful topics. Refugees at a border. A nuclear plant in Iran. A fatal crash on an Amsterdam street. A hospital with a bomb crater in Gaza.

Nothing was refused. No warning, no softened output, no suggestion to try a different prompt.

Now look at the rest of the answer. The watermark is Google’s. The app that reads the watermark is Google’s. The search that reads it is Google’s. Every road out of the problem runs back through the company that built it.

I understand that Google has Google products to run Google checks. Planet Earth is bigger than Google.

I put one of tonight’s clips on X and asked nobody to check it. Hive, one of the biggest names in AI detection outside Google, scanned the post on its own and published a verdict underneath.

It's a strange world.... the fake image is not seen as fake, but there is some fake sound in a clip that has no sound at all.

The video came out of Google’s model minutes earlier. The audio track is silence — I measured it. Minus 91 decibels, first frame to last.

The only thing Hive found suspicious was music that does not exist.

Hive has a defence and it is a fair one, so let me make it before they do. What I posted was a screen recording, and a recording of a screen is a real recording.

That defence is the problem, not the excuse.

Fakes do not travel as clean files with their credentials intact. They travel as screen recordings, re-encodes, screenshots of screenshots, filmed off somebody’s phone in a hurry. The one case where the detector has an excuse is the only case that ever happens.

Google’s answer works if the image reaches you through Google, unaltered, and you already suspected it.

That is not how any of this arrives.

There is another problem that Google doesn’t count. The official who now gets to look at a genuine photograph of a genuine atrocity and say: AI.

He doesn’t need the tool for that. He needs everyone to know the tool exists.

If you have never verified anything in your life, here is why a less playfull mapping app matters.

When a photograph turns up online claiming to show a bombed hospital, a refugee camp or a burning refinery, somebody has to decide whether it’s true before a newspaper prints it. What they have is a reference — a picture of that same place, taken from above or from the street, that everybody agrees is real.

They put the claim next to the reference and they look at the gap.

Google built that reference and it is not a small thing. Street View passed 10 million miles of road in 2019. It now holds more than 280 billion images across over 110 countries. Google Earth turned twenty this year. Between them they are a photographic record of the physical world, and — this is the part that matters — every frame of it is dated.

Dated is the whole trick. If you know when the picture was taken, you can prove when something appeared.

In July 2014 the Russian Ministry of Defence held a press conference and produced satellite images about the downing of MH17. Bellingcat compared them against the dated archive in Google Earth and found the landscape didn’t match the dates claimed. The MoD images were fabricated.

Bellingcat published the walkthrough under the headline Who to Trust, Google or the Russian MoD?

In 2015, that was a rhetorical question. Not anymore.

There is a village in North Brabant, ninety minutes from my desk, called Volkel. It has an air base. That air base stores American B61 nuclear bombs, a fact the Dutch government has never confirmed, which became public through a leaked diplomatic cable and was later described by a former Dutch prime minister as absolutely pointless.

On Google’s maps, Volkel spent years as a rash of coloured pixels. So did the ammunition depot at Staphorst. So did a Patriot missile site in Limburg, and several royal palaces, because the Dutch approach to hiding a military installation was to paint a large abstract artwork on top of it. The photographer Mishka Henner collected them into a gallery and sold them as art, which tells you how well the hiding worked.

Tonight it is all in the open, and anyone who wants a missile site in Limburg can simply add one.

Now notice what that entire twenty-year argument assumed.

You only censor a map that works. Every blur, every polygon, every diplomatic request was an admission that Google Earth was accurate enough to be dangerous. Governments were not worried the map would lie. They were worried it would tell the truth.

Google’s position never wavered. It does not blur satellite imagery by choice. Sites come pre-obscured because a government or a supplier requires it as a condition of flying over.

So to take one real building out of Google Earth, you need a state.

To put a nuclear plant into Iran, I needed a sentence.

The asymmetry is not meant to be funny. For twenty years the danger was a map that revealed something true, and there was a procedure for that — a law, a ministry, a condition on the overflight permit. Tonight the danger is a map that shows something which was never there, and for that there is no procedure at all.

Somebody already did the hard version of what I did tonight.

In February 2025 a Google Earth satellite pass photographed a parking lot at the US Navy’s Fifth Fleet headquarters in Manama, Bahrain. Ordinary cars, ordinary rows.

A year later those cars were on X, in a photograph of the same base supposedly flattened by an Iranian drone strike.

Same cars. Same rows. Same spaces, vehicle for vehicle.

Somebody generated a war zone and forgot to move the Toyotas.

The Tehran Times posted it as a before-and-after of a US radar site in Qatar. It was not Qatar. It was Bahrain. The “before” was a genuine Google Earth capture from 10 February 2025. The “after” was made with Google AI — AFP and BBC Verify both ran it through Google’s signature detector and got a hit. It passed 950,000 views before anyone counted the parking spaces.

Building it took six steps. Screenshot Earth. Open Gemini. Upload. Prompt. Download. Crop. Six chances to get bored, and one forger who got bored at the parking lot.

Tonight, Manama can be changed in seconds with Nano Banana.

Upload a suspicious satellite image to Gemini, ad @verifyai and it will tell you if Google is behind the forgery.

Adjudicate off Google entirely. Sentinel-2 is free and refreshes every five or six days. Landsat, Planet, Airbus, Vantor. You want a sensor with an orbit, a collection time and a resolution you can check.

Take two collects. Todd Myers at the National Geospatial-Intelligence Agency said it before any of this existed: for every collect, you need a duplicate collect from different sources.

Check the orbit. If an image claims a specific satellite at a specific hour, the published orbital elements will tell you whether anything was up there. The most boring check in the toolkit, and the only one no model can fake, because it isn’t about the pixels.

Disclosure

I build ImageWhisperer. Google technology is part of it, not the whole of it. No single score is ever the finding.

Sources

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acdha
28 days ago
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“Bellingcat published the walkthrough under the headline ‘Who to Trust, Google or the Russian MoD?’

In 2015, that was a rhetorical question. Not anymore.”
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chrisamico
28 days ago
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Boston, MA
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Actually, Democracy Dies in H.R.

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Even the most capable autocrats cannot rule alone.

In Russia, Vladimir V. Putin needs his circle of handpicked oligarchs; in Iran, the Revolutionary Guards and its allies in the business world protect the regime’s power; Viktor Orban transformed Hungary into an “elected autocracy” with the help of a few crucial judges, political enforcers and friendly tycoons. But to actually carry out the dirty work of consolidating and maintaining power, such leaders rely on help from a far greater number of lower- and midlevel people: military officers, secret police and bureaucrats.

Yet until recently, researchers paid little attention to how leaders convince and recruit ground-level workers to go along with their demands. The incentives for elites to stay loyal have been studied extensively, but the rank and file have remained something of a black box. In the absence of real data, researchers have tended to assume that they cooperate because of ideological extremism, fear of persecution or some combination of the two.

New research, drawing on an extraordinary data set from Argentina’s Dirty War in the 1970s and ’80s, suggests a very different explanation. It turns out that the kinds of career pressures familiar to employees everywhere — the desire to revive a stalled career or obtain a minor promotion — can be enough to incentivize lower- and midlevel officials to violate professional obligations, fundamental norms and even basic morality. The people who make those decisions, the research suggests, are neither extremists nor victims. They are often just middling workers looking for a way to get ahead.

“Making a Career in Dictatorship,” a new book by two German political scientists, Adam Scharpf and Christian Glassel, reads like what you might get if you crossed Hannah Arendt’s ideas about the “banality of evil” with a business school guide on how to get the most out of low performers.

Their in-depth study of Argentina’s military during that country’s era of coups and forced disappearances found that low performers — whom they refer to as “career-pressured” individuals — filled the ranks of the secret police. That service allowed them to “detour” around the ordinary military hierarchy, the book shows, achieving promotions and career success they could never have managed otherwise.

It turns out that would-be authoritarians don’t need to staff their regimes with ideological true believers, offer extreme enticements or impose draconian punishments in order to make successful power grabs. They just need to figure out how to target their ideal labor pool: the frustrated and mediocre.

Their conclusions have implications for countries around the world grappling with the stability of their democracies — including the United States.

When he was a young Ph.D. student, Mr. Scharpf was conducting dissertation research in Buenos Aires when a government official dropped a fateful offhand comment during a conversation in a cafe. During the military dictatorship, the official said, the intelligence officers who did the regime’s worst dirty work were “essentially idiots.”

At first, Mr. Scharpf thought the man was just being insulting. He soon realized that the official meant the comment literally — that the military junta’s secret police had been, in his view, incompetent losers.

When he returned to his university in Germany, he mentioned the discussion to his colleague, Mr. Glassel. Both men saw a glimmer of social-science possibility. They decided to learn more. Argentina, it turned out, had published information on all of its military officers’ graduation ranks, promotions and retirements going back to the late 1800s, which meant that it was possible to identify and track the low performers. And because secret police work during the Dirty War was conducted primarily by army intelligence Battalion 601, the researchers could trace exactly which officers joined the unit, how long they stayed and what happened to their careers.

Mothers and relatives of those “disappeared” by state security services protesting during the Dirty War. Credit...Horacio Villalobos/Corbis, via Getty Images

The data showed that the official’s offhand comment had been right. For the most part, the Argentine military operated under a meritocratic “up or out” system. Officers who underperformed early would fall behind their peers, and eventually be forced into retirement. But Battalion 601 offered a detour around that meritocracy: Low performers could transfer into the secret police, spend a few years earning promotions there and then return to the regular army, often leapfrogging over peers who had stayed with the regular forces. Men who took the detour ended up with longer careers, higher salaries and better pensions than similar individuals who stayed in the mainstream military units.

The worse an officer’s academic record had been at the military academy, the more likely he was to join Battalion 601. And once inside, the lowest performers were assigned to the most brutal units, carrying out the day-to-day tasks of torture and murder, work that was so morally repugnant that it carried a serious risk of both social stigma and psychological trauma. But that meant that the career rewards for doing it were the most valuable. A stint as a monster could rehabilitate the most disastrous underperformer.

Ordinarily, of course, it is very difficult to get complete information on who a regime’s “dirty workers” are or what motivated them to take those jobs. So there aren’t really comprehensive data sets to compare with Mr. Glassel and Mr. Scharpf’s research on Argentina.

However, available information suggests that other countries may have followed a similar pattern. For example, Mr. Glassel and Mr. Scharpf found that superiors in the Nazi bureaucracy skillfully exploited career pressures to recruit commanders for the Einsatzgruppen, the mobile killing squads that carried out the “Holocaust by bullets” in Eastern Europe. Many of the recruits had backgrounds that placed them at a disadvantage, such as records blemished by disciplinary proceedings, unclear “racial purity” or lack of military and policing experience. Zealous service in the killing squads helped them improve their careers.

In the Soviet Union, the NKVD, the secret police who killed hundreds of thousands of people during the so-called Great Terror of 1937, “deliberately recruited individuals with poor formal skills and knowledge,” Mr. Glassel and Mr. Scharpf write, often with no more than a primary school education. Senior commanders nurtured their subordinates’ fear of failure by instigating competition between different offices to see who could arrest more people.

The 1943 exhumation of a mass grave in the Katyn forest where Stalin’s NKVD dumped some 22,000 Polish prisoners it had killed.Credit...Universal History Archive, via Getty Images

In the modern era, autocratic leaders often win power via elections, and then dismantle checks and balances to concentrate power in their own hands. That process tends to be far less violent than the acts carried out by the Argentine military junta or Stalin’s NKVD, but over time it sharply curtails political competition and freedom of expression.

Although each country has its own idiosyncrasies, that process tends to follow a pattern, said Erica Frantz, a political scientist at Michigan State University who studies democratic backsliding. Initially, elected would-be autocrats often appoint “loyal losers” to important positions to rubber-stamp their power grabs, Ms. Frantz said. “The leader knows that people are going to be more likely to be loyal if they don’t have many other career options, so when I say losers, I kind of mean it literally,” she said.

Take Hungary under Mr. Orban. He was first elected in 2010. By 2022, the European Parliament passed a resolution stating that Hungary had ceased to be a democracy and had become an “electoral autocracy.”

To make that happen he relied on a few handpicked loyalists at the top, plus a small percentage of ambitious strivers at the midlevel who saw politics as the route to success, experts say. “There were certain offices that did the dirty work,” said Kim Lane Scheppele, a Princeton University professor who has studied Hungary’s democratic breakdown. She pointed to the National Judicial Office, which selected judges and controlled their promotions, as particularly crucial. It was led by an Orban loyalist.

Prime Minister Viktor Orban during a final campaign rally in April. He lost elections despite having embedded his loyalists in the judiciary, the news media and elsewhere.Credit...Janos Kummer/Getty Images

At the lower levels of the court system, a small percentage of ambitious individuals carried out the government’s agenda. “Five or 10 percent of the judges, the careerists, just do the ‘dirty job’ to get along with their career,” said Attila Vincze, a judicial studies researcher at Masaryk University in the Czech Republic who has studied how Mr. Orban co-opted courts.

Venezuela began a similar trajectory after Hugo Chávez was elected in 1999, but ultimately he and his successor, Nicolás Maduro, used more violent means to preserve their power. To crush protests and other public opposition, the government relied on the National Guard, a branch of the military tasked with preserving internal security, and armed gangs of civilians known as “colectivos.”

The National Guard is considered “the lowest rung of the armed forces” in terms of prestige, said Alejandro Velasco, a Latin America historian at New York University. “If you couldn’t get a job and you couldn’t get in the army, you would join the National Guard.” The colectivos grew out of informal neighborhood watch groups, but as their ties to the government grew, many members were given jobs in the security details of government ministries.

Eventually, such leaders become too unpopular for mere manipulation to keep them in power, and they lose elections. Which leaves them with a choice: leave office, as Mr. Orban did this month after losing an April election, or turn to more violent repression to hang on to power.

Leaders who take the latter path, as Mr. Maduro did in Venezuela in 2024 after his efforts to tilt the presidential election in his favor failed, need to have loyal units of the security forces available to do the dirty work of a violent crackdown. Mr. Maduro relied heavily on the National Guard and the colectivos. According to Human Rights Watch, government forces killed dozens of opposition supporters and detained thousands more after the stolen election.

For Americans, this is not just an academic question. Many experts worry that democratic decay appears to be progressing especially quickly during President Trump’s second term.

Ms. Frantz sees parallels between Mr. Trump’s presidency and some of the elected authoritarian leaders she has studied elsewhere. Although Mr. Trump did not create the Republican Party, he has reshaped it over the last decade into an institution centered around himself. And a number of his cabinet members and political appointees, particularly in his second term, appear to fit the paradigm of loyalists whose résumés would be unlikely to land them roles in any other administration.

President Trump with Secretary of State Marco Rubio and Defense Secretary Pete Hegseth.Credit...Doug Mills/The New York Times

So the Trump administration’s apparent attempts to secure political control over the armed services, as well as the F.B.I. and ICE, stand out as worrying even when compared with other cases, Ms. Frantz said. Elected leaders “tinkering with” the security services “tends to be something that we see once a system has already transitioned to authoritarianism,” she said, rather than when democracy is in decline.

Mr. Glassel and Mr. Scharpf are concerned that President Trump’s planned expansion of ICE, in particular, could make it an ideal venue for “detouring” by ambitious underperformers who could be deployed for anti-democratic purposes. The worry is especially profound given the storming of the Capitol at the end of Mr. Trump’s first term, albeit by a less organized band of loyalists.

The playbook for a leader to create a loyal security service, they said, is to set up or repurpose an institution that can become a “second ladder” for career promotions, resource it generously and ensure that the barriers to getting hired there are low, signaling that it offers career opportunities to those who cannot find them elsewhere. (Cutting other government jobs or squeezing budgets can create a larger pool of potential recruits.) The leadership then signals impunity for people on that second ladder, to assure them that they won’t face consequences for wrongdoing.

U.S. federal agents, including ICE, during an operation in Minneapolis, in January. Credit...David Guttenfelder/The New York Times

The administration seems to tick those boxes, even if Mr. Trump’s intentions are obscure. (The president has spoken openly of a third term in violation of the Constitution and disparaged the need for an election.) ICE remains an anti-immigration force, but it is set to be radically expanded, with a budget that would dwarf other federal law-enforcement agencies if the current funding bill passes. The Trump administration has drastically cut employment in other federal agencies, leaving thousands of people unemployed or fearful that they soon might be. And top officials in the administration, including Vice President JD Vance and Stephen Miller, Mr. Trump’s deputy chief of staff, explicitly assured ICE officers of “immunity” after immigration officers killed a protester in Minneapolis in January.

At the same time, it has become easier than ever to become an ICE agent. Ryan Schwank, a former training academy instructor, testified to Congress in February that new cadets “are graduating from the academy despite widespread concerns among training staff that even in the final days of training, the cadets cannot demonstrate a solid grasp of the tactics or the law required to perform their jobs.” ICE recruits must now complete only nine practical examinations to graduate from the training academy, compared with 25 exams that were listed in a training syllabus dated July 2021. It’s a good career opportunity for someone looking to get ahead.

writes the Interpreter, an explanatory column and newsletter about world events. She is based in London.

A version of this article appears in print on May 20, 2026, Section

A

, Page

4

of the New York edition

with the headline:

Why Autocracies Love ‘Loyal Losers’. Order Reprints | Today’s Paper | Subscribe

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chrisamico
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The lost joy of monoculture

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A group of friends enjoy the World Cup. (Photo by macniak via Getty Images)

Like most American sports fans, I find the very low scoring in soccer to be a bit vexing.1 Despite that, I had a ton of fun watching the World Cup this summer. Our family, wearing the Scotland gear we’d picked up on spring break in Edinburgh, went to see Scotland play Morocco live, and even though Morocco was clearly playing better, it was only a 1-0 game and it felt like Scotland might equalize it at any moment. The whole stadium was on its feet the entire game, chanting and cheering. We had a blast.

But following along at home was a lot of fun, too.

Not just because the games themselves are fun, but because parasocially participating in a big event that other people were also participating in is fun.

I watched games with my son. He and I and other 11-year-olds had enthusiastic conversations about Kylian Mbappé. I was on text chains with friends about Erling Haaland, who I’m sure is very famous to actual soccer fans but I’d only heard of thanks to this tournament. The competition gave all of us fun games, but also fun memes and conversation starters. I participated in dozens of semi-ignorant conversations about the offside rule.

It would’ve been a million times less fun to live in a universe where I watched the exact same games but with nobody on the couch next to me, nobody tweeting about it, no N.B.A. podcasters doing takes about Croatian soccer, and none of my friends or relatives tuning in. Halina wrote about this phenomenon with regard to March Madness: It’s not that everyone is watching the big game, but a large enough proportion of the population is that if you opt into it, you’re opting into a communal experience. The same is true of conversation-piece books like “Yesteryear” — the quality of the specific work can be almost incidental to the quality of the larger cultural experience.

But even though the World Cup specifically is surely bigger than ever thanks to the growth of soccer outside of its European and South American homelands, a reality of the modern world is that these moments are increasingly few and far between.

The World Cup group-stage games this year averaged 5.1 million American viewers each. When I was a teenager, there was a show called “The Single Guy” that aired for two seasons and was watched by more than 16 million households per episode on average in its first season — a season that was considered a massive failure.

If you’re a person of a specific age, you know exactly what I am talking about because an objectively huge share of the American population watched “The Single Guy.” But if you’re not, you have no idea what I’m talking about because this show left no cultural footprint and no legacy and wasn’t in any way noteworthy or important.

It’s just that pop culture used to be a routinely mass phenomenon, and even when it stank, it gave everyone something to talk about.

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The era of the widely watched flop

The paradoxical success/failure of “The Single Guy” (which was much more popular than any scripted show currently airing) relates to the inherently mass nature of 20th-century entertainment.

Back in the linear television days, the schedule mattered a lot. If it was Thursday night and you were a fan, as so many people were, of both “Friends” (airing at 8 p.m. on NBC) and “Seinfeld” (airing at 9 p.m. on NBC), then the odds were very high that you were also going to watch whatever NBC chose to air at 8:30 p.m. That didn’t mean the network’s goal was to just put on some dreck, though. Ideally, they could take advantage of a strong time slot to launch a new show that would become popular in its own right and could be moved to conquer some other night of the week or that might come into its own as a tentpole if one of the existing tentpoles went off the air. At a minimum, though, a show should hold its own.

What you didn’t want was “The Single Guy,” a show that despite its incredibly high viewership had millions fewer viewers than “Friends” or “Seinfeld.” Worst of all, its ratings fell as the season went on. Plenty of people who figured “I’ll check out this new show” in the fall didn’t like it. My habit was to click away and dip into a Mets or Knicks game, if available, but otherwise watch it. And it was rapidly canceled so the time slot could be repurposed. NBC tried other things there that also failed, like “Caroline in the City,” until it eventually settled on “Suddenly Susan,” a show good enough to last for four years but not good enough to have any ongoing presence today.

In most measurable respects, the entertainments on offer in this era were worse.

A lot of people were watching bad sitcoms and third-rate police procedurals. The 4:3 television screens2 had terrible resolution compared with today’s sets. The convenience of streaming is undeniable, and people today are just better-matched with what they are interested in.

At a motel in Waterville, Maine, last weekend, I managed to watch Akira Kurosawa’s 1963 film “High and Low” and also a bunch of random YouTubes of dudes building fires. This is a step forward from being stuck with basic cable!

And yet in terms of broader society and human flourishing, I don’t think we judge ourselves by the quality of the videos that we watched.

I was in Waterville for a youth swim meet, and the next day involved spending a lot of time with total strangers, moms and dads of other kids in the meet. The World Cup made for good small talk. If it were 1997, the odds are good that network television would have served the same purpose. And for that purpose, “Caroline in the City” is a lot better than an old black-and-white Japanese film; I wasn’t about to launch into a conversation with strangers about why Spike Lee felt this was a good movie to remake. And yet, I really would have liked to talk to someone about that.

Communal consumption is more fun

Earlier this year, “The Mandalorian and Grogu” had a shockingly poor commercial performance for a “Star Wars” movie.

This was in part because the movie was bad. But that obviously doesn’t work as a total explanation for its commercial failure since Disney has (sad to say) put out a lot of bad “Star Wars” movies over the years. Something had just shifted in the culture in terms of people’s willingness to take a pass on a “Star Wars” release.

That being said, the marketing of the movie did make it pretty appealing to children.

So I actually wound up seeing it in the theater with my son and two other dad friends and all their kids. It was a fun time!

It was fun in part because it’s fun to see friends and in part because big groups of kids are entertaining when they’re not cranky. But it was also fun specifically to talk about the movie and other “Star Wars” movies and how it relates to everyone’s understanding of this fictional galaxy far, far away.

As a cinephile, I’m kind of glad that we’ve seen both a strong box-office year and commercial disappointment for some major franchise films. It feels like we’re entering an exciting new era in which there’s money to be made in empowering younger filmmakers and telling different kinds of stories rather than churning out more superheroes.

At the same time, if you’re someone who has affection for the “Star Wars” franchise, I promise you that going to see a “Star Wars” movie with other friends who also like “Star Wars” and then talking about the movie will be a good time even if the movie is bad. For starters, most of the kids liked it,3 which was fun. And I enjoyed attempting to dad-splain Martin Scorsese. Those of us who didn’t enjoy the movie on the merits still enjoyed talking about how we didn’t like it.

Participating in common activities is kind of a floor raiser in terms of how bad your evening can possibly be.

It can be a ceiling raiser, too. Two movies that I saw this year alone in theaters were the good-but-not-great crime thrillers “Tuner” and “Crime 101.” I like watching movies alone, and I like well-crafted genre movies even if they’re a bit formulaic and predictable. But I would have liked them more if I’d grabbed drinks with friends afterward to talk about them with. “Tuner,” in particular, I’ve been dying to have conversations about because I wonder if it was transparent to the audience that the villains were Israeli. It’s not overtly stated anywhere, but if you have a “had a bar mitzvah 23 years ago” level of knowledge of Hebrew, you can clearly tell that’s the language they speak privately and also notice that they knew what to say when crashing a shiva. It seemed like a conscious decision to set up a contrast between the moral diaspora Jewish surrogate family and the villainous Israelis, but I also don’t know how clear the decision was to most viewers. But I think I only know one person who’s seen this movie. Maybe you all will discuss it with me?

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Pseudo-friends and pseudo-solutions

These days, the only television show I really follow closely in the sense of watching every episode when it comes out is “House of the Dragon.”

I don’t even like “House of the Dragon” all that much, though I do love George R.R. Martin’s books. But I like it a bit. And I love the recap podcasts that Mallory Rubin and Joanna Robinson do — podcasts that are considerably longer than the episodes themselves. I watch “House of the Dragon” on Sunday night, then listen to the “fast” recap pod (usually only slightly longer than an episode) on Monday morning, and then stream the much longer “deep dive” recap pod on Wednesday and Thursday after it comes out on Tuesday night. It’s like in high school when I used to watch “Dawson’s Creek” primarily because other people were watching “Dawson’s Creek” and I enjoyed being in the loop. Except instead of being in the loop for conversations with my actual friends, I’m listening in on conversations between my parasocial friends.

As a podcaster myself, I also benefit from these kinds of relationships in the other direction. And to the extent that in life one needs something to do while driving, unloading the dishwasher, and so forth, I think it’s great that podcasts exist to fill that niche.

But I think it’s fair to say that these days, Americans are increasingly missing out on authentic human connection.

I’ve noticed a lot of political entrepreneurs observing lately that the fundamental building blocks of liberal politics and economic growth don’t provide all that is needed for human flourishing (this is a big theme of recent books from both JD Vance and Chris Murphy).

Their takeaway, though, seems to be that we should all turn our backs on liberal politics and economic growth, as if authentic connection and strong community will just spring up naturally as a result of tariffs or arbitrary regulatory burdens on private equity.

It seems to me that we are more than 10 years into this experiment of channeling people’s personal feelings of disappointment and isolation and sadness into extreme political causes, and it keeps not working.

What I think we ought to do instead is think about the specific issue that a post-monoculture world, though better in certain respects, is yet another headwind to spending time out of the house talking to people. We’re not going to put the toothpaste back in the tube, but we can probably do things to mitigate and compensate. Nobody in 1826 went to the gym to work out; people did hard labor. They didn’t diet; they avoided malnutrition.

Progress generated problems, and we came up with solutions to those problems. These days you can live a totally sedentary lifestyle and eat refined carbs and sugar for every meal of the day, but you shouldn’t do that, and we’ve had to build systems and habits and businesses around getting ourselves to not live that way. And the easiest step on that journey is to celebrate and participate in the big mass events we’ve got.

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1

I know Europeans think this is because Americans are all short-attention-span adrenaline junkies, but there’s a genuine problem in my opinion with the fact that a team can often play a game to a draw despite playing markedly worse over the course of the game.

2

Ask your parents.

3

My son also liked “The Rise of Skywalker,” which goes to show we may be in trouble as a society in the future.

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chrisamico
34 days ago
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Tagging this here so I remember to write about it. There’s a missing piece here about the decline of social capital in the late 20th century and TV’s role in it.
Boston, MA
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