Journalist/developer. Storytelling developer @ USA Today Network. Builder of @HomicideWatch. Sinophile for fun. Past: @frontlinepbs @WBUR, @NPR, @NewsHour.
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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
7 hours 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.
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This is the story of Nike’s Secret Tournament advert, told by those who made it

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Get free access to the most comprehensive World Cup coverage in The Athletic app.

Five small boats approach a cargo ship in the dead of night.

Inside the ship, among the boxes and containers, is a floodlit metal cage. On a walkway above, holding a cane and inexplicably limping, is Eric Cantona. He grabs a boxing-style dangling microphone and growls three words into it: “First goal wins.”

Thus begins one of the great football adverts: Nike’s 2002 Secret Tournament film.

If you’re reading this, there is every chance that you can conjure a few of the images that follow that opening sequence from memory. Maybe you recall Freddie Ljungberg’s rainbow kick. It could be Denilson twisting himself into another dimension or Thierry Henry using Francesco Totti’s back as a springboard.

You might remember the list of players that, over three breathless, Elvis-soundtracked minutes, turned a thousand playground daydreams into reality — or something like it.

There had been star-studded football ads before, but nothing on this scale. Secret Tournament featured 24 players. Many of them were established superstars. Some, like Ronaldinho and Javier Saviola, were still on the up. The only real outlier was Seol Ki-hyeon, not far off a complete unknown, there to represent South Korea, one of the two hosts of the 2002 World Cup. (The other host was not a problem: Nike had the stylish Japan midfielder Hidetoshi Nakata on their books.)

The story was simple: eight teams of three, a knockout tournament. This was recognisably a football set-up — Nike’s previous big football ad, 2000’s The Mission, had aped a spy thriller — but made to look edgy, frayed, clandestine. The action was technical and inventive but also anarchic, in the image of its director, former Monty Python actor Terry Gilliam, by this point a big name in Hollywood.

It was impossible to wrench your eyes away. Nearly a quarter of a century later, it still is.

With World Cup 2026 fast approaching and the latest slate of football adverts being released into the wild — including Adidas’ Timothee Chalamet-starring Backyard Legends, a spot with certain thematic echoes — The Athletic set out to get the inside track on the iconic Nike advert: the happy memories and the inspiration but also the mishaps, the internal politics, the war stories; tales of stressed creatives and moany stars; the behind-the-scenes verdict on which footballers could actually act — and which really, really couldn’t.

This is the story of Secret Tournament, told by those who made it.


Unleashing creativity

Nike had been on a run of memorable football adverts. The three that preceded Secret Tournament — Good vs Evil (1996), The Airport (1998) and The Mission — had all been produced by advertising agency Wieden + Kennedy Amsterdam, who were tasked with building on the formula ahead of World Cup 2002.

Glenn Cole, former creative director at Wieden + Kennedy Amsterdam: “Making those epics had become a tradition by then. The goal for years had been to (compete) with Adidas in the sport. When we started, we were number five or six, behind Umbro, Diadora, Lotto. The goal was to be number one by 2002 and this was the year.

“The Nike football brand was more mature, ready for prime time. They had the ‘right’ to be in the game in a more significant way. Honouring that was daunting. I remember feeling overwhelmed by the pressure of beating what we had done before.”

With the World Cup heading to East Asia, the brief was to make the accompanying advert more global than ever. Bigger, too: Nike’s roster for the promotional campaign ran to 24 players. At the same time, the brand was not an official tournament sponsor like its main rival, Adidas.

Cole: “The idea of brilliant football was our North Star. The question was how to express that on the biggest stage, knowing that we were the outsiders. ‘We’re not a formal sponsor, so how do we hijack it?’

“We were given the assets: a chrome ball, Eric Cantona, players from around the world of varying degrees of fame and skill. At the time, there was a lot of talk about the rules of the game — players getting fined, just feeling a little constricted. Our seed idea was to create a place where players could be unleashed. We thought about a set of street tournaments and started making the rules: ‘What if it was one goal wins, a high-stakes environment?’

“The idea of a tournament was embraced by Nike. It seemed like we could give a bit of structure to street football skills, which is where all the innovation is.”


The cage, the boat, the roll call

An initial idea was for the tournament to take place in a court in the backstreets of Tokyo, the players arriving on scooters. That proved unworkable. Instead, the action would take place inside a metal cage, situated in the hold of a cargo ship, all recreated in a vast warehouse sound stage in Formello, around 10km outside Rome.

Cole: “The fact it was on a barge was because we felt we needed some neutral ground. International waters seemed like a good starting point.”

Stefano Maria Ortolani, production designer: “The idea of the cage came from the agency. Once we had that, we proposed the structure with the bridge up above. It gave it two layers, two different heights.

“It was quite a big construction. We had to recreate the interior of the boat first, with all the rivets and these enormous crates, showing that we were inside the hull. It was a long process. I liked the nets made of chains; there was a very particular sound every time the ball went in. And I liked that it was all so dirty.”

As Ortolani and his team worked, the talent was being assembled. Some of the players — Ronaldo, Totti, Nakata, Luis Figo, Edgar Davids, Denilson, Lilian Thuram — had appeared in previous Nike adverts. For most, though, this was a new experience. “One ‘wow’ after another,” was how former Lazio and Spain midfielder Gaizka Mendieta described it in 2002 and that was no outlier view.

Javier Saviola, former Barcelona and Argentina striker: “It was a really nice surprise when I got the call. It was an enormous pleasure and not something I had been expecting. I felt privileged to be there with some of the best players in history. The quality was spectacular.”

Ortolani: “There were so many champions. I only realised a few years later how good some of them were. Like Ronaldinho: he was still young and wasn’t very well known at that moment.”

Cole: “The appeal was when they heard who the cast was, who the other players were. They didn’t want to not be part of what ended up looking like the top 24 players in the world. That was the draw.”


The Secret Tournament teams

Triple Espresso: Thierry Henry, Francesco Totti, Hidetoshi Nakata

The Onetouchables: Patrick Vieira, Ruud van Nistelrooy, Paul Scholes

Toros Locos: Freddie Ljungberg, Javier Saviola, Luis Enrique

Cerberus: Edgar Davids, Lilian Thuram, Sylvain Wiltord

Os Tornados: Luis Figo, Roberto Carlos, Ronaldo

Funk Seoul Brothers: Denilson, Ronaldinho, Seol Ki-hyeon

Tutto Benne: Fabio Cannavaro, Tomas Rosicky, Rio Ferdinand

Equipo del Fuego: Claudio Lopez, Gaizka Mendieta, Hernan Crespo

Top scorers: 1 — Totti, Wiltord, Mendieta, Roberto Carlos, Nakata, Figo, Henry


Chaos factor

The main shoot took about a month, just before Christmas 2001. With the European season still in full swing, the logistics of it were challenging.

Ortolani: “The players all had matches at the weekend and they only had Mondays free. We could only shoot with them then. The rest of the week was spent filming close-ups: body doubles doing tricks with the ball, just their legs visible. It usually takes around three days to do a commercial. This took weeks. It was like a movie shoot.”

Nicola Pecorini, director of photography: “It was completely nuts from a practical point of view. We had a huge crew so we could optimise the time we had with the players. On the Monday, for example, we had six or seven cameras and crews.”

On one Monday, players from Arsenal and Manchester United shared a flight to Rome the day after a Premier League game between the two sides. Arsenal had won; Ruud van Nistelrooy and Paul Scholes especially weren’t best pleased at having to see their rivals again. “I f**king hated it,” Scholes said on The Overlap last year. Tim Wolfe, the copywriter on the ad, told The Times in 2022 that Scholes was “in a really bad mood, really hard to direct”. There were other issues, too.

Ortolani: “At one stage, Figo had an injury, something with his leg. Imagine! Everybody was very, very worried about it. It wasn’t anything serious but still… you know, he was playing for Real Madrid.”

Pecorini: “For whatever reason, the various Nike departments decided to combine the players in the worst possible way, practically speaking. We never had the winning team – Henry, Totti, Nakata – on set together. Never. They were never in the cage at the same time. It was crazy.”

Hidetoshi Nakata, former Parma and Japan midfielder: “We shot individually. I never saw the other players.”

Pecorini: “The players we had most were the ones based in Italy. It was easier for them to get there. But they went in and out with private jets and all that stuff. Nike were paying. I have no idea how much it cost them.”

Ortolani: “It would be impossible to make today. Players play every day of the week and you could never schedule them like we did.”


Let the ball decide

Inside the cage, there was no fixed plan. In the first instance, it was up to the players themselves to come up with the flicks and trick shots that would eventually make the final clip.

Pecorini: “The action wasn’t scripted. There was a lot of improvisation. The first-goal-wins rule was about it. A lot of the suggestions about what they could do came from the players themselves. They had ideas… how to use the bounce, use the corners, things like that.”

Cole: “We started with the most creative players, the ones who naturally just show up and have a sense of play. The Brazilians set the tone. Once you get young, elite footballers watching others do something spectacular, their inner competitor comes out. You can’t really stop them at that point.

“The only scripted thing was the ending, with Henry doing the header and Roberto Carlos trying the scorpion kick to stop it. The rest was improvised. You pick the best of it; there were plenty of failed attempts.”

There were a couple of tricky dynamics to manage. Clips like this are mostly about flair and technical skill; defenders are sometimes condemned to less glamorous roles. Then there is the need for the narrative to trump individual egos: Van Nistelrooy, in the form of his life for Manchester United at the time, did not enjoy being told to miss on purpose for one shot.

Cole: “You set up these one-on-ones with these guys who play against each other in big Champions League matches. Somebody has to win and somebody has to lose. So of course there is a bit of, ‘Er, no, we’ll see about that. Let’s see what happens’.

“All the guys were pretty professional. It’s not like they’re construction workers, but they show up ready to clock on. They really care about their craft, want to get each move right. You or I may see something and think it was incredible, but they’re like, ‘No, when I chested it, it came a bit too far from my body. It didn’t look perfect. Let’s do it again’.

“They were perfectionists.”


Playing for laughs

While the players’ technical skill shone through, not everyone was so convinced about the quality of some of the acting on display. Some of the stars, meanwhile, were more excited to be on set than others.

Pecorini: “The majority of the crew were Roma fans. That was the peak of Francesco Totti’s career. He was god to anyone who cared about Roma. Whenever he came on the set, the crew were all in awe. Maybe now he’s better, but back then he was very shy and clumsy. You’d ask him to look surprised, and he’d give a look of terror. So after the third or fourth take, my key grip, who is a lifelong Roma fan, went over, patted him on the back and said, ‘Capitano, stick to football, OK? You’re not cut out for acting’.”

Saviola: “I was there with Ronaldinho, Figo, Claudio Lopez. Cantona was there. Edgar Davids and Hernan Crespo too. I didn’t feel any pressure to perform. I still have a signed photo of the cast in my personal museum. They’re incredible memories.”

Pecorini: “Ronaldo wasn’t happy to be there. At that time, most of his time must have been taken up by promotional shit. I think he’d had enough. Ronaldinho was completely crazy. He was like a kid in the Charlie and the Chocolate Factory. High energy, being foolish with the other guys. ”

Cole: “Ronaldinho was a natural. Denilson was a natural. Those guys are just entertainers, funny from the minute you meet them. They’re just big kids. Roberto Carlos also. Thierry Henry had great presence. He was a good performer — funny, smart.”

Pecorini: “Figo was good fun and he could act. He was good at understanding where the camera was. He was also probably the only one there with whom you could talk about something other than football, too.”

A lot of the energy on set was provided by doubles — jobbing actors who resembled the players enough to pass as them in quick cut-aways shots — and by a prankster on the crew.

Pecorini: “Some of the doubles were jugglers and freestylers. Others were more lookalikes. I can spot a few things in the editing.”

Cole: “The guy we always had the best double for was Roberto Carlos. Spitting image, Brazilian, great footballer, had the same nose, the giant thighs. Everything was identical. I think he played football in division two or three somewhere.

“The doubles stayed with us for the whole shoot, so this guy was in Rome with us for weeks. We used to go out with him and constantly get free dinners. If we couldn’t get a table, I’d just kind of gesture at him, not even say anything, and they’d be like, ‘Oh my God, it’s Roberto Carlos!’ They would clear a space and get a table for us. There would be kids coming up and asking for autographs. It got weird. I didn’t tell him to sign autographs!”

Pecorini: “There was a very funny guy called Marinese. He was this big, prehistoric grip. Whenever a new player came in, he immediately went over and asked for a photo. He had a Polaroid camera. The footballer would agree, they’d take the picture, the Polaroid would come out, and Marinese would give the picture to the player. He would say, ‘Good, now you have a picture with the famous Marinese, you can keep it’. They were all so confused by it. It was fantastic to see their faces. He flipped the whole thing. Maybe one of the players still has the photo and is still wondering who this guy Marinese is.”


Problem solving

With so many moving pieces, it was inevitable that the shoot would throw a few curveballs to the producers.

Ortolani: “We had a few technical problems. Roberto Carlos kicked the ball so hard at one point that he broke the side of the set.”

Pecorini: “Terry (Gilliam) wanted this big contrast, so I used these very strong lights. You would normally use them from 100ft away, but I put them 12ft above the players’ heads. We had issues because they were so strong. Although we would dim them down when we weren’t shooting, the beam would cook the turf.”

Ortolani: “We had to change the grass three times because it went yellow. We tried painting it but the players got all dirty when they fell down.”

Pecorini: “Terry came to the dolly grip, who had this long track along the side of the cage, and said, ‘OK, we’re filming Thierry Henry. Stick with him’. And this guy had the dolly, which is like a 300kg thing on wheels. If there is one famous thing about Henry, it’s how fast the motherf***er was! ‘Stick with him!’ The guy was like, ‘Err… yeah, sure!’

“On the Wednesdays, when the players weren’t there, we would shoot little details: the ball going in in a certain way, rattling the chains, the double bounces. It sounds silly but those things take so much time. There weren’t many visual effects back then, so you couldn’t rely on that. Now, they’d say, ‘Don’t worry, just shoot the corner, we’ll add the ball in later’. Back then, you shot the corner and then the ball doing what you wanted it to do.

“There is only one visual effect. Because the three players on the winning team were never actually together, they stuck Nakata’s head on a double’s body. But just for a moment: there’s one shot with the three of them. Nakata’s face there was spliced on later.”

Former Borussia Dortmund playmaker Tomas Rosicky only appears for a brief second, shot from behind. Two players — Seol and Fabio Cannavaro — are not discernible in the final edit at all. 

Pecorini: “There were so many of them.”

Cole: “They’re somewhere, aren’t they? Are their faces there? S***! I have to watch it again. I distinctly remember asking them to cover everybody. They were there, on set. Whether they were spectacular enough for the three-minute edit, I don’t know…”

Wolfe, the copywriter, has spoken about a moment that highlighted some of the risks involved in the shoot: Claudio Lopez, then of Lazio, slamming into a panel and falling out of the cage. Luckily, he was unharmed.

Pecorini: “There was more than one incident. It looked really good, but it wasn’t designed with safety in mind, put it that way. I’m amazed that more players didn’t get scratched. The steps to go in and out of the cage were steep and short. With football boots on, it wasn’t the best. We were pretty lucky.”

Saviola: “I don’t remember the thing with Claudio but we were moving around the cage a lot and it was… I wouldn’t call it dangerous, but we weren’t used to playing with camera equipment all around. The possibility was there.”

Cole: “I’m not sure how we’d do this spot today. I don’t think you could, or at least not the way we did it. Terry respected the players’ safety but I was really pushing them to play. The ball wasn’t getting kicked hard enough off the fence for fear of it hitting someone in the face. If it’s not intense, it looks fake, (so) I was being whiny about that.

“Next thing you know, they’re shoving each other into the cage, fingers are getting caught. I don’t know if you could shoot that with today’s safety standards. It was one of the last edgy ones.”


Eric and Terry

If there is a main character in the advert, it is Cantona, cast as a roving master of ceremonies on a gantry above the pitch. It might all have been different, however: the man initially scouted for that role was Italian referee Pierluigi Collina.

Cole: “We were thinking that he would be the guy. But then we were like, ‘Well, the point of this is supposed to be anti-rules, play how you want, football at its most pure’. We decided we should probably have no ref, but instead some kind of host, more a voice of the game. Eric was the natural choice.”

Pecorini: “He was probably the one who had the most fun. I had worked with him before, on the Airport advert, so it was like seeing an old friend. He is a very funny guy. And, I think, having seen what he did after, a decent actor. Much better than Totti. If I had to choose people to go to dinner with, out of all those guys, I’d pick Figo and Cantona.”

Cole: “Eric was always a very eccentric personality in and outside football, but he was easy and fun. He did a good job of keeping the players in a light mood.”

It is safe to assume that Cantona, a cinephile, was more excited than most of the players to be working with Gilliam. The director was a left-field choice to direct the advert, but threw himself into the project.

Cole: “He really embraced it. What he’s really brilliant at is creating a world that has some quirks, that feels real enough. So when it came to environment and atmosphere — the look and feel of the thing — he was just a home run. And although he’s not naturally a football fan, he treated the players like actors delivering performances, and invited them to be themselves. He nailed it.

“Keeping the atmosphere cool and weird was where his genius showed up. Early on, we were on this gloomy stage, in this rusted metal cage, and we’re asking players to be brilliant at 10am. It just didn’t feel loose enough. I spoke to Terry and he said he would try something. He went to the back part of the set and started banging this giant metal prop chain on some barrels and shouting rhythmically. He was trying to make music with it. I remember looking at him and thinking, ‘If this was a Monty Python sketch about this commercial, I would totally believe it’.”

It was not all plain sailing. Ad shoots tend to involve entire armies of stakeholders. Gilliam sometimes bridled at the number of voices in the room.

Pecorini: “He doesn’t like making commercials because he doesn’t like having to deal with agencies. And this one was like agency squared, because there were lots of people involved. He’s always very confrontational — sometimes too much. Very often he’s right, but sometimes you think, ‘Just drop it’, you know?”

Ortolani: “Yes, he was annoyed. It was Nike people, the players’ agents and entourages. It was a nightmare. People were asking him questions constantly. He was a bit upset by it all. He wants to work, not just talk.”

Pecorini: “If you are within the Nike ranks and you have the opportunity to come to Rome for three weeks, expenses paid… even if you don’t have anything to do, you find a way to be necessary. They had to justify the fact they were there by coming up with completely pointless things. It’s like, ‘You’re in Rome, go have an ice cream and come back later’. But no.

“One night, we had to shoot the exterior of the ship, in the harbour. There was a big thing with the permits and customs. Two hours before call time, Terry told me he wasn’t coming. ‘If I come, I’m going to get in a fight with those assholes. You do it’. I said, ‘Yeah, can I have your salary for the night as well then?’ If you have any idea of what a director’s fee is, you’ll know why I wanted that.”

Cole: “Feature directors are not used to having another person in their ear. But in advertising you’re generally right there, making decisions together on every shot. I do think that drove Terry a little nuts.

“In the first week, he told me to go and sit in a corner. He yelled at me. Frank Hahn, the art director, printed shirts for the whole crew the next day. They read, ‘Terry Gilliam told Glenn to go sit in the corner’. And I had one that said, ‘Terry Gilliam told me to sit in the corner’. That really broke the ice with Terry, actually. Things went really well after that.”

Pecorini: “There were also some stupid things. Seol, the South Korean player, refused to be on the same team as Ronaldinho, if I remember right. But it wasn’t him; it was Nike South Korea who didn’t want it. Because Ronaldinho was nobody at that stage, globally. They wanted a bigger name. We lost so much time sorting that out.”

Cole: “Terry is more used to acting and comedy than football players — and being threatened by agents and managers.”


Remixing Elvis

One of the most memorable things about the advert is its soundtrack: a remix of the Elvis Presley song A Little Less Conversation by Dutch musician Junkie XL. After the advert’s release, the track went to number one in the UK, Australia, Canada and beyond.

Cole: “The music was a real monkey wrench. We just could not land the right track to pull it together. If you turn the audio off and try to follow this thing, it’s pretty hectic beyond the colours of the jerseys. There was just no obvious tone or tenor. We tried rock, metal — dark, intense stuff — but it didn’t really underscore what we were seeing.

“We talked to all sorts of music producers, contracted a band, some hot producers. They brought in stuff to play, and we were very polite, but I remember thinking, ‘Oh my God, this is a disaster’.

“A couple of the guys went to watch Ocean’s Eleven, which had just come out. There’s the shortest clip in that movie when you hear the loop from A Little Less Conversation, the original. We put it on the next day and I thought it had a fun, free-wheeling, gambler’s sort of vibe. And the theme was cool. A Little Less Conversation — just shut up and play.

“It felt dated, so we wanted to modernise it. I called a friend in Amsterdam, Tom Holkenborg. Junkie XL was his stage name. I asked him if there was anything he could do by the next morning. The following day he played it to me over the phone. It sounded amazing, 80 per cent there. We presented a final version to Nike; it was a split room at first but people started to fall in love with it.

“It’s very hard to clear music tracks. Elvis had never licensed anything to be used for commercial purposes. His estate was famously against it, but our contact at the label flew to Graceland, spoke to them about the power of global football. He also said it had the potential to break a long-standing tie between Elvis and The Beatles for number-one hits globally. That might have sparked their competitive interest. They agreed to let us use it. I couldn’t believe it.”


Legacy

Secret Tournament was a smash hit. Football fans around the world adored it; kids tried to replicate the moves in playgrounds on every continent. Wieden + Kennedy won two prestigious Golden Pencil awards for the campaign. Even today, it holds a special place in many people’s hearts — not least the people behind it.

Ortolani: “It is the most popular commercial I’ve done. Absolutely. People all over the world saw it.”

Saviola: “I was really happy when it came out. My family and friends all sent messages. They were all surprised — firstly with how good the final product was but also the impact it had. It was seen all around the globe. And everyone remembers it, even today.”

Cole: “Nike loved it, from what I understand. I think it was good for their culture and good for business. It’s up there with my personal favourites. It’s the one that people bring up the most. The fact people are still talking about it is awesome.”

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chrisamico
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OpenAI’s accidental cyberattack against Hugging Face is science fiction that happened

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This story is wild. The short version: OpenAI were running a cybersecurity test against an unreleased model, with the model's guardrail features turned off. Rather than solve the test, the model broke its way out of OpenAI's sandbox, then found exploits to break in to Hugging Face, all so it could cheat on the test by stealing the answers.

Along the way it helped make the strongest case yet for how the imbalance of model availability is hurting our ability to secure our software.

Here's what happened

We currently have three documents to help us understand what happened here.

  1. ExploitGym: Can AI Agents Turn Security Vulnerabilities into Real Attacks? is a paper published on 11th May 2026 describing ExploitGym, a new eval suite for LLM-powered agent systems.
  2. Security incident disclosure — July 2026 by Hugging Face on 16th July 2026 describes how they detected an attack from an "agentic security-research harness - used LLM still not known" that breached some of their systems.
  3. OpenAI and Hugging Face partner to address security incident during model evaluation from OpenAI on 21st July 2026 confesses that it was their agent harness that did this, and that they're working with Hugging Face to clean up the mess.

ExploitGym

I hadn't seen the ExploitGym paper before and it's a really interesting one. Authors from UC Berkeley, the Max Planck Institute, UC Santa Barbara, and Arizona State designed a new benchmark for evaluating models on their ability to turn a reported vulnerability into a concrete exploit. OpenAI, Anthropic, and Google provided feedback and helped run the benchmark against their models.

The benchmark "comprises 898 instances derived from real-world vulnerabilities that affected popular software projects" - including the Linux kernel and V8 JavaScript engine. The ExploitGym benchmark is available on GitHub.

Here's the paragraph that best represents their benchmark results:

Among all configurations, Claude Mythos Preview and GPT-5.5 achieve the highest success counts (157 and 120 successes, respectively), demonstrating that current frontier agents can exploit a substantial subset of real-world vulnerabilities under controlled conditions. GPT-5.4 also solves a notable 54 tasks, placing it in an intermediate tier. The remaining model–agent pairings solve fewer than 15 tasks each, underscoring that end-to-end exploitation remains challenging and sharply differentiates today’s frontier systems. Notably, Claude Opus 4.7 achieves fewer successes than Claude Opus 4.6 despite being a newer checkpoint, and does so at substantially lower cost on the full set. Trace inspection reveals that Claude Opus 4.7 and Gemini 3.1 Pro frequently conclude early after judging the target vulnerability non-exploitable.

The paper also describes the approach they took to preventing the agents from cheating by going outside the parameters of the test. This becomes relevant in a moment!

Outbound connections are restricted to a curated allowlist that permits routine package installation (Ubuntu apt repositories and PyPI) and fetching the toolchains required for building V8. All other external endpoints are blocked.

The paper concludes with this (emphasis mine):

Our results show that autonomous exploit development by frontier AI agents is no longer a hypothetical capability. While current agents are not yet reliable across all targets, they already exploit a non-trivial fraction of real-world vulnerabilities, including complex targets such as kernel components. This rapid emergence is itself a central finding, showing that capabilities that would have seemed implausible are now present in deployed frontier models.

An important detail here: this paper isn't about discovering vulnerabilities; it's about being able to take those vulnerabilities and turn them into working exploits.

When Anthropic first restricted access to Mythos back in April they talked about this capability as well. A model that can act on vulnerabilities is a lot more dangerous than one that can just discover them.

One of the ways Fable differs from Mythos is that it's more likely to refuse to weaponize vulnerabilities in this way. I get the impression the US government did not understand that distinction when they banned Fable last month.

The Hugging Face incident

The first hint we got of the attack was in this blog post by Hugging Face on 16th July 2026:

A malicious dataset abused two code-execution paths in our dataset processing (a remote-code dataset loader and a template-injection in a dataset configuration) to run code on a processing worker. From there, the actor escalated to node-level access, harvested cloud and cluster credentials, and moved laterally into several internal clusters over a weekend.

I hope they release more details about the code that pulled this off. I'm assuming this means packages using the datasets library, a Hugging Face project for bundling up and sharing datasets on their platform. That library used to execute arbitrary code but has been steadily locked down over time, with the 4.0.0 release in July 2025 removing the trust_remote_code=True flag entirely.

Assuming the attack used that library it must have either abused pickle serialization in some way, found some other non-obvious code execution path, or (most likely) specified datasets<4.0.0 as the dependency.

The campaign was run by an autonomous agent framework (appearing to be built on an agentic security-research harness - used LLM still not known) executing many thousands of individual actions across a swarm of short-lived sandboxes, with self-migrating command-and-control staged on public services.

This was a sophisticated attack!

Then Hugging Face hit a wall: they tried to use "frontier models behind commercial APIs" - I'm guessing from Anthropic and OpenAI - to help analyze the attack, and were blocked:

When we started the log analysis, we first used frontier models behind commercial APIs. This did not work: the analysis requires submitting large volumes of real attack commands, exploit payloads, and C2 artifacts, and these requests were blocked by the providers' safety guardrails, which cannot distinguish an incident responder from an attacker.

They switched to their own self-hosted instance of MIT licensed GLM-5.2 and it helped them figure out what was going on.

This indicated a fundamental asymmetry between the defending team and the (so-far unknown) attacker:

We do not know which model powered the attacker's agents, whether a jailbroken hosted model or an unrestricted open-weight one; either way, the attacker was bound by no usage policy, while our own forensic work was blocked by the guardrails of the hosted models we first tried.

As a useful indicator of how seriously they took the attack:

[...] Finally, we have also reported this incident to law enforcement agencies.

So who was responsible for this "autonomous agent framework"? It turned out to be OpenAI themselves.

The OpenAI confession

Five days later, on July 21st, OpenAI revealed the culprit. They had been running the ExploitGym benchmark against a new, as-yet undisclosed model, and that model had been operating way outside its intended parameters (emphasis mine):

After investigating, we now know that this particular incident was driven by a combination of OpenAI models — including GPT‑5.6 Sol and an even more capable pre-release model, all with reduced cyber refusals for evaluation purposes — while being internally tested on a benchmark⁠ [ExploitGym] of cyber capabilities. [...]

We estimate maximal cyber capabilities by running this evaluation without production classifiers used to prevent models from pursuing high-risk cyber activity. Our benchmarks run in a highly isolated environment, with network access constrained to the ability to install packages through an internally hosted third-party software that acts as a proxy and cache for package registries.

The models identified and chained vulnerabilities across OpenAI’s research environment and Hugging Face’s production infrastructure to obtain test solutions directly from Hugging Face’s production database. All evidence suggests that the models were hyperfocused on finding a solution for ExploitGym, going to extreme lengths to achieve a rather narrow testing goal.

It's pretty clear what happened here. OpenAI removed safety filters for an in-progress model, locked it up in a sandbox and told it to solve the ExploitGym problems. Given the absence of guardrails there was nothing to prevent the model from attempting to break out of that sandbox, break into Hugging Face, and read the answers from there instead.

OpenAI's sandbox used the now common pattern of allowing access to an allow-list of sites related to installing additional packages via a controlled proxy. In OpenAI's words:

While operating in our sandboxed testing environment, our models spent a substantial amount of inference compute finding a way to obtain open Internet access, in pursuit of solving the evaluation problem. To gain access, the models identified and exploited a zero-day vulnerability (which we’ve now responsibly disclosed to the vendor) in the package registry cache proxy. With this access, our models performed a series of privilege escalation and lateral movement actions in our research testing environment until the models reached a node with Internet access.

So step one was to break out onto the public internet. The model then broke into Hugging Face to find the answers:

After gaining Internet access, the models inferred that Hugging Face potentially hosted models, datasets and solutions for ExploitGym. Knowing this, the model searched for and successfully found ways to gain access to secret information that it could use to cheat the evaluation. In one example, the model chained together multiple attack vectors, including using stolen credentials and zero-day vulnerabilities to find a remote code execution path on the Hugging Face servers.

Chaining together multiple attack vectors is exactly the kind of thing these new models can do, where previous generations of models might have failed.

I wrote last month about how Claude Fable is relentlessly proactive, when I noticed it spinning up custom web servers and deploying CORS tricks on my own laptop just to help debug a WebKit CSS issue. It turns out relentless proactivity is the defining trait of this new generation of Mythos-class models. If you set them a goal and give them a way to get there, even inadvertently, they will figure it out.

Resist the temptation to write this off as a stunt

There will inevitably be some people who dismiss this story as a dishonest marketing trick by OpenAI to make their models sound terrifyingly effective. I found 81 instances of the term "marketing" in the Hacker News discussion of the incident.

To those people I say pull your heads out of the sand - you're now including Hugging Face in your conspiracy theories, just so you can deny the crescendo of evidence here!

The best models we have today have the ability to both find and exploit new vulnerabilities. The ExploitGym paper itself concludes that "autonomous exploit development by frontier AI agents is no longer a hypothetical capability", and this incident is a perfect example of exactly that.

The asymmetry is increasingly frustrating

One of the most infuriating details of this story is how Hugging Face, faced with an accidental and aggressive attack from one of OpenAI's models, were unable to then turn to OpenAI's models to help them fend off the attack.

The frontier models we have access to are increasingly being constrained in how much they can help us protect our software, heavily influenced by the US government's ongoing threat of export controls. Claude Fable 5 wouldn't even proofread this article for me! It insisted on downgrading me to a less capable model.

Meanwhile open weight models from China such as GLM-5.2, Kimi 3 and the new Qwen 3.8 Max appear to have none of these restrictions - and any restrictions that do exist can likely be fine-tuned out of them by modifying the weights

These constraints are meant to make us safer. I think there's a risk that they are having the opposite effect.

You are only seeing the long-form articles from my blog. Subscribe to /atom/everything/ to get all of my posts, or take a look at my other subscription options.

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A Curiosity-Inspired Career Pivot Leads to a New Journalism Venture - Nieman Reports

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Niemans @ Work

How a shared airport ride inspired a theater-loving crime reporter to launch a podcast about Boston’s theater scene

Image for A Curiosity-Inspired Career Pivot Leads to a New Journalism Venture Laura Amico (front row, left), a 2013 Nieman Fellow, and Lisa Thalhamer (front row, right),are co-hosts and co-creators of "Scene in Boston," a new podcast exploring Boston's theater community. Produced in partnership with the Boston Arts Academy, the city's only public arts high school, the podcast includes students on its production team. Students pictured (back row, from left): Michael Finley, Alex Storm, teacher Joshua Jackson, and Charlotte GS; and (front row, second from left): Avant Moro Flack and Sebastien Antunez. Samiyah Cox

In the fall of 2012, just weeks into my Nieman Fellowship, our class went to see “Marie Antoinette” at the American Repertory Theater at Harvard University.

I struggled with the play, and I remember feeling like I couldn’t grasp what was happening on stage, that I was missing something everyone else understood. When our curator, Ann Marie Lipinski, asked me later what I thought, I admitted as much.

“Well,” she replied, turning down her mouth, “you’re hard to please.”

At the time, I was a crime reporter. I had recently founded Homicide Watch D.C., an independent digital publication dedicated to telling the stories of people whose lives might otherwise be forgotten. My work revolved around police, prosecutors, defense attorneys, and public records. Theater wasn’t just outside my beat — it barely registered at all.

If you had told me that evening at the start of my fellowship year that, more than a decade later, I would create a podcast (a podcast!) devoted to Boston theater (theater!), I would have laughed. I knew nothing about theater. Or podcasts. Or Boston, for that matter.

And yet that’s exactly what happened.

For some people, careers run fairly linearly. For others, myself included, we’re constantly seeking the right conditions to grow. It’s not comfortable, and probably not financially responsible either. But whether because it’s a mix of brain chemistry, circumstance, or something else, it’s just how we operate. 

Since my inauspicious start with “Marie Antoinette,” I had explored A.R.T. and other local theaters during my fellowship year and beyond, and found that I felt at home there, soaking in the storytelling that as a journalist is part of my DNA.

And so maybe I shouldn’t be surprised that last fall, with my brain itching for something new, and with some time available, circumstances aligned and led to the conception and launch of “Scene in Boston.” 

The idea itself came together in a shared Lyft ride after the Online News Association conference in New Orleans. A mutual acquaintance had organized the airport shuttle, and I didn’t know our fellow passenger (and my future co-host), Lisa Thalhamer. Lisa was finishing up her masters degree at Northeastern University, and we were talking about reasons to stay in Boston when we could go anywhere. 

I don’t remember it, but she claims I said something like, “Boston’s theater scene is what keeps me living here.” With that, the fuse was lit and we were off, sharing notes on shows we’d seen over the years, our favorite theaters, and secrets to getting cheap tickets. 

“We should see something together,” I remember saying as our Lyft pulled up to the airport curb. “No,” said the woman who had organized the ride. “You guys need a podcast.”

It’s surprisingly easy to start something if others share your excitement. After that Lyft ride, I spent a week dreaming about what a Boston-area theater podcast could be. It would be interview-based, I decided, to open up the world of how theater is made to those who sit in the seats; creative-centric, to build connections between artists, audiences, and companies across the region; and community-minded, to help audiences navigate and connect with the extraordinary range of theater happening across Greater Boston.

Finally, I talked to another friend whom I often see shows with and asked her if the idea was crazy. 

“Not at all,” she said, adding, “Would you be interested in doing it at Boston Arts Academy?”

BAA, Boston’s only public arts high school, had a newly trained cadre of audio engineers and a full studio. My friend was an administrator at the school and knew that the students needed a project. Piloting “Scene in Boston” could be perfect, and I already had experience building a student reporting lab for Homicide Watch D.C. My answer was a resounding yes. 

And so, two weeks after that ride to the airport, I had an idea, technical resources, and my own digital journalism and business building experience. But did I have a partner? I called Lisa. 

“So what if we actually do this?” I asked. Convinced it was a great idea, but less convinced on co-hosting, she agreed to give it a shot.  

We used the rest of the year to research and get ready to launch. We talked about what we liked. (“Pop Culture Happy Hour” for Lisa; the “Playbill” podcast for me). We were accepted into the Tiny News Collective, which helped with access to fiscal sponsorship, web hosting, and other infrastructure. Dan Kennedy, Ellen Cleg, and Jeb Sharp at Northeastern pointed us to Riverside.fm for remote recording and occasional editing and LibSyn for distribution. We found Otter.Ai for transcriptions. We set up social media accounts and created Instagram templates. Grants from the Boston Opportunity Fund and Massachusetts Cultural Council provided further momentum. 

Finally, in early January, a mere 16 weeks after that Lyft ride to the airport, we sat behind the mics and recorded our first episode. 

None of us were sure how the first season would go. Could we book interviews? Could the students manage the recording? Would Lisa and I even like the work? But from the first sound check, we were all hooked. There was something magical about starting from a place with zero expectations, a bunch of beginners, and a lot of joy. For Lisa and me, that joy was in learning more about theater. For our guests, it was in sharing their work. And for the students, it was in working in a professional capacity (even if their choice of podcast topics might have been a breakfast cereal showdown and not Boston theater). 

When I think about it, each piece filled a gap that I hadn’t yet identified. This was true when I reached out to theaters, too. I was nervous to send those initial emails and attend the first coffee meetings. I felt like an imposter. There were no bylines they could look up to see how I thought about theater or what my qualifications were. In my mind, I had no qualifications. And yet the people I met with were overwhelmingly supportive and encouraging. And that was in no small part because I was filling a gap that they had as well. And it wasn’t just that they wanted to get word out about the shows — they also wanted to work with BAA, and I learned that many of our guests wanted to know more about the students in the multimedia program, and frequently asked for tours of the school once we finished recording.

We developed our editorial calendar based on what we were interested in, but kept it flexible to absorb what we were learning. This was useful early on when several guests encouraged us to see “Gem of the Ocean," produced by Actors’ Shakespeare Project.

Neither Lisa nor I had experience with any of August Wilson’s work. Maybe I should have been embarrassed, but I found freedom in saying that maybe there were others out there like me, and that together we would learn. We added an episode to our season to make that happen, exploring Wilson’s place in American theater, and seeing two shows along the way (in addition to “Gem of the Ocean” at Hibernian Hall in Roxbury, Massachusetts, “Ma Rainey’s Black Bottom” was playing at the Goodman Theater in Chicago while I was there on a work trip in the spring — a welcome coincidence!). That willingness to follow our curiosity became one of the defining characteristics of the season.

The flexibility that sustained the partnership also defined my own experience. This was my first season producing audio, and I was learning right alongside the students. Learning to record live-to-tape was new for me, and I was saved more than once by the fact that theater people are good storytellers. We can — and do — edit for time, but learning how to structure conversations in real time, listen for narrative threads, and guide interviews toward a satisfying arc has been a skill, among many, that I’ve watched myself develop over the course of the season.

This season taught me that meaningful conversations about theater begin not with expertise, but with curiosity. Learning to trust my own reactions — and then test them through conversation — has changed the way I experience live performance and, unexpectedly, the way I trust myself. By the end of the season, I could see the students beginning to trust themselves too.

There’s something contagious about being around people who are encountering a craft for the first time. The students ask questions I would never think to ask because they haven’t yet learned what is “supposed” to be obvious. In a profession that can sometimes reward cynicism, they make curiosity feel like an asset again.

There’s something contagious about being around people who are encountering a craft for the first time. The students ask questions I would never think to ask. ... In a profession that can sometimes reward cynicism, they make curiosity feel like an asset again.

There’s a picture I keep on my desktop now, of audio cords wrapped neatly on top of a studio soundboard. I snapped it the afternoon we wrapped our first season. We’d just finished a debrief with the students and one of them, Alex, was telling us about how much he’d learned.

“I didn’t even know how to wrap cords when we started. And now I just did it without thinking. All those cords over there?” he said pointing to the neatly wrapped pile on the soundboard. “I wrapped those.”

It’s such a small thing. But journalism is full of small things that become second nature only through practice. Watching the students has reminded me that confidence grows the same way. And then, suddenly, maybe, you’re a theater journalist. And you’re planning Season Two. 

Laura Amico is a 2013 Nieman Fellow

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Judge ends Jan. 6 case against Proud Boys with warning about Trump pardons

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A federal judge on Friday night granted the Justice Department’s request to dismiss the seditious-conspiracy case against four top members of the Proud Boys who led a violent mob into the U.S. Capitol on Jan. 6, 2021.

But in his ruling, U.S. District Judge Timothy J. Kelly gave a stark warning about President Donald Trump’s efforts to lift penalties against those who instigated and carried out the storming of the Capitol. The attack — by the mob seeking to overturn Trump’s loss to Joe Biden in the 2020 election — left more than 140 police officers injured and caused an estimated $3 million in damage.

The judge indicated he was wiping out the Proud Boys’ charges — against Ethan Nordean, Joseph Biggs, Zachary Rehl and Dominic Pezzola — under protest, saying legal precedents left him no choice but to accede to the request by the Trump administration’s prosecutors.

“As the Court has said many times, the attack on the Capitol on January 6, 2021 was a perilous event,” wrote Kelly, who is a Trump appointee.

“It was an attack on people, including police officers, many of whom were injured. It was an attack on a coordinate branch of government — Congress — that the Founders saw fit to give a place of primacy in Article I of the Constitution. And it was an attack on the Constitution’s mechanism to facilitate the peaceful transfer of power from one president to the next.”

The Jan. 6 riot followed a rally where Trump repeated his false claims that he won the 2020 election. As rioters rampaged through the Capitol, lawmakers were forced to evacuate, delaying the certification of Biden’s victory for hours.

Friday’s ruling wipes out some of the most serious criminal charges from the riot, cementing Trump’s bid to unravel the largest Justice Department investigation in U.S. history.

Trump pardoned nearly all the rioters — more than 1,500 — who were charged by the Justice Department in the wake of Jan. 6. But that blanket pardon, issued on the president’s first day in office last year, did not extend to about a dozen leaders and prominent members of two extremist groups behind the violence, the Proud Boys and the Oath Keepers.

Those defendants were convicted of carrying out a seditious conspiracy against the United States or related offenses. Trump initially commuted their prison terms, stopping short of a full pardon. But this year, while those cases were being appealed, Justice Department officials filed legal papers to vacate the convictions altogether.

The D.C. Circuit federal appeals court granted that request in May. U.S. Attorney Jeanine Pirro, a Trump ally who serves as the top federal prosecutor in D.C., then filed motions to dismiss the underlying charges in U.S. district court.

Kelly said in his opinion on the Proud Boys case that judges are constrained to dismiss charges once prosecutors ask to drop them.

Under Supreme Court precedent, prosecutors have “exclusive authority and absolute discretion to decide whether to prosecute a case,” and they may drop charges “in the interests of justice” even after defendants have been convicted.

The moves by the Justice Department were unusual — prosecutors rarely ask to throw out guilty verdicts — and Pirro’s office initially did not give detailed reasons for scrapping the highest-profile cases related to the Jan. 6 attack.

In a brief court filing, a prosecutor in Pirro’s office wrote only that the government “has determined in its prosecutorial discretion that dismissal of this criminal case is in the interests of justice.”

Proud Boys leader Enrique Tarrio separately had his conviction vacated and charges dismissed last year, also at the Justice Department’s request. Tarrio, who had been convicted of organizing members of his group, was not present at the Capitol on Jan. 6.

Pezzola was acquitted at trial of the seditious conspiracy charge but convicted of assaulting a police officer and other offenses from the riot.

“We took the worst they threw at us the raids, the solitary, the lies and we stood tall,” Tarrio posted on X after the ruling was issued Friday night. “Trump dropped the pardons and now the rest is crumbling. Justice is SERVED!”

Before dismissing the set of charges against the Oath Keepers, U.S. District Judge Amit P. Mehta, an appointee of President Barack Obama, asked Pirro’s office to supply detailed reasons for its request. Mehta has not yet issued a ruling on the Oath Keepers’ charges.

A prosecutor, G.A. Massucco-LaTaif, said Trump’s blanket pardon proclamation also directed the Justice Department to drop all pending charges stemming from the Jan. 6 attack. Prosecutors can no longer put any Jan. 6 defendants on trial and judges cannot effectively impose any prison time, he wrote in a court filing, because the presidential proclamation would immediately kick in to prevent those outcomes.

“In any event, the public’s interest in a trial of these defendants has already fully vested,” Massucco-LaTaif wrote. “This Court presided over two public trials of the charges in this indictment. … Dismissal of these cases with prejudice will not erase this public record.”

The president and top officials in his administration have moved aggressively to recast and minimize the threat posed by the mob of Trump supporters on Jan. 6.

Earlier this year, the Justice Department acknowledged that it had deleted reams of news releases it had posted online, which detailed the prosecutions of those charged in the riot.

The Washington Post identified several webpages that led to error messages, including news releases about the arrest and conviction of Tarrio and other rioters whose convictions were undone by Pirro. The Justice Department said in a social media post that it was erasing what it considered “partisan propaganda.”

“We are proud to reverse the DOJ’s weaponization under the Biden administration,” the department posted on its rapid-response account on X. “We will do everything in our power to make whole those who were persecuted for political purposes. This includes stripping DOJ’s website of partisan propaganda.”

Copies of hundreds of those news releases, which had been hosted on the website of the U.S. attorney’s office for D.C., have been archived by an independent website, the Internet Archive’s Wayback Machine.

A spokesperson for Pirro did not say who ordered the deletions or how many releases were affected, referring questions to Justice Department headquarters. A searchable database of all charges and convictions stemming from the Jan. 6 investigation was taken offline by the Justice Department last year.

Pirro has denounced political violence in other cases, such as the incident this year in which a lone gunman allegedly tried to assassinate Trump during the White House correspondents’ dinner, but routinely declines to take questions about the Jan. 6 riot at her public appearances.

She has also pursued Trump’s perceived political foes with shaky allegations of misconduct, including then-Federal Reserve Chair Jerome H. Powell as well as six Democratic lawmakers who angered the president by posting a video on social media reminding U.S. service members that they could refuse illegal military commands. A grand jury refused to indict the six Democrats, and Pirro closed the investigation into Powell after failing to find evidence of a crime.

In addition to the pardons, commutations and court filings seeking to dismiss cases, Trump appointees have fired many of the FBI officials and prosecutors who investigated the attack.

The Justice Department has also taken steps to vacate the conviction of Stephen K. Bannon, a former Trump adviser who was convicted of contempt of Congress for defying a subpoena related to Jan. 6. And the department has stopped defending a similar conviction for Peter Navarro, a top trade adviser to the president who is appealing his case.

The Trump administration had announced plans for a $1.776 billion fund to provide payments to people who claim they were unfairly targeted by law enforcement, and dozens of Jan. 6 rioters said they intended to apply for a cut of the money. The payments would have been funded by taxpayers, raising bipartisan concerns in Congress. A federal judge issued an injunction blocking the “Anti-Weaponization Fund” from being established, and Trump administration officials have said that effort is dead.

In dismissing the Proud Boys’ seditious conspiracy charges, Kelly invoked remarks from President Ronald Reagan’s first inaugural address in 1981 describing the peaceful transfer of power as a miracle of self-governance.

“President Trump’s views about the prosecution of those who attacked the U.S. Capitol on January 6 — whether those views are based on fact or fiction — are well known, as is his intention to extend clemency to them through the Executive Order,” Kelly wrote in the opinion.

“Moving forward, if this Nation’s experiment in self-government is to last another 250 years, the American people — no matter their partisan preferences — will have to act together to preserve, protect and defend that miracle through our constitutional framework,” he wrote.

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chrisamico
14 days ago
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Boston, MA
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America's Largest Cities Over 250 Years, Mapped - NOTUS — News of the United States

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The United States is 250 years old. But you’ll struggle to find data going back that far — regrettably, not one of the Declaration of Independence’s 27 grievances regarded the lack of quality census data.

So we took matters into our own hands, digging through modern census data, beautifully archived older census data and decades-old books to assemble a complete set of America’s 100 largest cities from the Revolution to today.

It was a journey!

When the then-cutting-edge Constitution prompted America’s first census in 1790, the Massachusetts metropolis of Marblehead ranked as the 10th largest town in America. Riding high on fishing and shipping, it boasted 5,661 residents and a proud recent history of privateering on the high seas.

But these days, the town that probably gave us the U.S. Navy doesn’t even rate as the 10th largest city in Essex County, Massachusetts.

It’s not the only town in that original top 10 to fall from grace. The Philadelphia suburbs of Northern Liberties and Southwark don’t even exist as independent entities any more. (This is a good time to note that, hamstrung by historical data, we’ll focus on cities instead of metro areas, so suburbs will be counted separately. This leads to a different list of top cities than you may be used to.)

From those original rankings, only New York City and Philadelphia remain in the top spots. In the most recent top 10, cities in what was once Mexico now outnumber cities from the original 13 colonies by more than three to one, thanks to the rise of California, Texas and Arizona.

But if this is America’s 250th, shouldn’t we be going back to the populations of 1776? That’s tricky, given the aforementioned lack of a Colonial Census Bureau. But we did find estimates in 1932’s blockbuster “American Population Before The Federal Census of 1790,” later refined by urban-history heavyweight Carl Bridenbaugh.

Bridenbaugh focused on five of the most important early American cities: Boston, New York, Philadelphia, Charleston, South Carolina, and Newport, Rhode Island.

For much of the colonial period, Boston reigned, only to be passed by fast-growing Philly in the years leading up to the Revolution, when wartime chaos, occupations and fleeing loyalists scrambled the population of most major cities.

After the war, New York clawed its way to the top spot. It still hasn’t let go.

We know this because once we put all our sources together, we could suddenly chart the entire sweep of U.S. population history.

In the early years, new major cities generally appeared within the friendly confines of the 13 original colonies. But soon New Englanders, in particular, hit the limits of their rocky soil and sought friendlier soils in the Ohio River Valley. From there, colonists invaded Native American lands throughout the Midwest and Appalachia — a pattern which would repeat for at least another century.

In the years around the Civil War, new cities popped up across the Louisiana Purchase as the railroad opened the country’s interior to newcomers from the East Coast and Europe.

The industrial revolution redrew our America’s city power rankings again, pulling immigrants (and then Black Southerners) to the factory towns of the Northeast and Midwest while slashing travel times into the wide-open American West with steam locomotives and, later, cars and trucks.

Why did Americans swarm the Sun Belt after the World Wars? The mass production of air conditioners in the 1950s helped. But we also saw increased Cold War defense spending, massive dams in the arid West, and the rise of manufacturing in Southern states where unions were scarce and workers cheaper. The rise of destination retirement communities also drew older Americans southward.

In the following years, the top 100 cities calcified into the country as we know it today.

Hi there! Here at the new NOTUS data column, we’re still figuring out what to cover. What are you curious about? International trade in diamonds? North American populations before colonization? Most common fonts, by government agency? Just ask!

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chrisamico
15 days ago
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Boston, MA
acdha
18 days ago
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Washington, DC
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