Leah Millis/Reuters

The sun sets at the U.S. Supreme Court building in Washington, Nov. 29, 2021.

In June 1986, at an otherwise nondescript Attorney General’s Conference on Economic Liberties, Antonin Scalia made an iconic sales pitch.

Originalism – a judicial theory holding that the Constitution should be interpreted in line with the framers’ thinking – needed rebranding, he told the conference. Originalists, he said, “ought to campaign to change the label from the doctrine of original intent to the doctrine of original meaning.”

In other words, instead of trying to intuit what James Madison or Alexander Hamilton may have intended, rely on what the public would have understood their words to mean at the time, using contemporary dictionaries and news coverage among other sources.

Months later, then-Judge Scalia would be appointed to the U.S. Supreme Court. He would become a pioneer of original meaning originalism, and constitutional law would never be the same again.

His new wording has come to redefine the family of theories that comprise “originalism.” And it hints at the complexity and evolution underlying what seems, at first glance, a straightforward judicial philosophy.

It has also never had more influence over the rights of Americans than it does now. Up to five Supreme Court justices could be considered originalists, and the theory is now commonplace in American courts. With high court rulings on gun rights, abortion, and religion expected in the coming year, originalism appears poised to define a new era in American constitutional rights jurisprudence. What that means for Americans, and for the court itself, remains to be seen.

There’s no question that originalism has changed constitutional law, says Franita Tolson, a professor at the University of Southern California Gould School of Law. History and text are much more of a focus than they used to be.

“The history is the starting point, the text is the starting point, and I think originalism reminds us of that,” she says, adding that she doesn’t think the philosophy is “inherently bad.”

But “as a society do we want to be constrained by the views of men that died 200 years ago? And more importantly, does the Constitution require that?” she continues. “To me that’s the question: starting point versus end point.”

Critics view originalism as a theory that is misleading at best, making promises of judicial restraint and impartiality that it won’t deliver in practice. 

But the philosophy comes in a variety of styles and flavors. Practice differs from theory, and – as with any legal theory – it has disagreements and flaws.

“I consider [originalism] to be the natural and normal way in which anyone would interpret – or at least begin to interpret – a text written more than 200 years ago,” says Michael McConnell, a professor at Stanford Law School and former judge on the U.S. 10th Circuit Court of Appeals.

When judges “latch onto the language of the Constitution and give it their own preferred interpretation,” he adds, “they’re not really doing constitutional law. They’re just doing a form of politics wearing a robe.”

For her part, Justice Sonia Sotomayor, one of the Supreme Court’s three liberals, appears skeptical that originalism will help bolster the court’s institutional credibility. In October, a law professor asked if the theory will become “increasingly untenable” as the country’s makeup continues to depart significantly from the time of the framers. The lack of human rights afforded women and African Americans in the original Constitution are a glaring example. Other changes include an America that no longer identifies as majority Christian and that has legalized marriage equality and civil rights for LGBTQ Americans.

“Whether and how that will lead to dissonance between what we are deciding and what the general population accepts as what the law should be,” she answered, “is a fascinating question.”

The Constitution’s “original purpose”

As far back as Chief Justice John Marshall, members of the court have occasionally cited original meaning as a factor in their interpretations. But as a distinct legal theory, originalism is relatively new. While Scalia may have been the most prominent proponent, its roots can be traced back to Justice Hugo Black – ironically one of the more liberal justices in Supreme Court history.

A fierce advocate of the “original purpose” of the Constitution’s text, he made the early legal arguments for extending the Bill of Rights to the states. (Until the 1960s, the Bill of Rights protections only applied to the federal government.)

He believed in strict interpretations of the Constitution. Thus, he didn’t think there is a constitutional right to privacy, or that conduct like flag burning is protected by the First Amendment. And he believed that the judiciary should act with great restraint.

Beginning in the 1970s, conservative legal scholars were “very heavily influenced by Hugo Black,” says Jack Balkin, a professor at Yale Law School and one of the country’s most prominent liberal originalists. 

“A lot of his opinions are about original intention,” he adds. But conservative scholars “take it in a slightly different direction.”

Those decades saw the Supreme Court play a key role in expanding civil and constitutional rights, including desegregation (Brown v. Board of Education); the right to counsel for criminal defendants (Gideon v. Wainwright); and the right to abortion (Roe v. Wade). Citing Justice Black, conservatives critiqued the rulings as justices exerting their own values on the country.

“A Court that makes rather than implements value choices cannot be squared with the presuppositions of a democratic society,” wrote Judge Robert Bork in a 1971 law review article. To do otherwise, he continued, would be for the court to act as “an institutionalized ... perpetrator of limited coups d’etat.”

He argued that judges should restrict themselves to following the “original intent” of the Founders.

Justice Scalia, earlier in his career, held similar views of originalism as a mechanism for judicial restraint – until his 1986 pivot from “original intent” to a focus on “original public meaning.”

There were several reasons this made sense for originalists.

The intent of historical figures like Madison and Hamilton “is very difficult to discern, and sometimes doesn’t even exist,” says Lawrence Solum, an originalist scholar at the University of Virginia School of Law.

“The [original] public meaning of the constitutional text is something that we can almost always figure out, and then apply it to contemporary circumstances,” he adds.

But there was a broader, political context to the shift. By the end of the Ronald Reagan and George H.W. Bush administrations, the conservative legal movement was no longer on the outside critiquing the liberal overreach of the Warren court. It was now in power.

“Old originalism thrived only in opposition,” wrote originalist scholar Keith Whittington in a 2004 essay. As conservative jurists found themselves in the majority, he added, they needed to develop a theory that could guide majority opinions and not just dissents.

This “new originalism,” he continued, “is less likely to emphasize a primary commitment to judicial restraint.” Historical research has replaced the “high-level theoretical arguments” of people like Bork. The original public meaning of constitutional text is fixed, it asserts, but it can be applied to new facts and circumstances.  

Critics argue this has made originalism as unpredictable and judge-empowering as other theories of constitutional interpretation.

“Sitting here in the present day using books and articles from a long, long time ago to decide what a provision of the Constitution means [gives judges] a lot of discretion,” says Kimberly West-Faulcon, a professor at Loyola Law School in Los Angeles.

The Supreme Court’s first originalist decision

That discretion was on full display in the Supreme Court’s only, to date, originalist majority opinion: District of Columbia v. Heller in 2008.

Both the majority opinion and the main dissent in the 5-4 ruling made originalism-heavy arguments. In the end, the majority voted to reinterpret the Second Amendment to protect an individual right to have a handgun in the home.

Today’s Supreme Court has an even stronger originalist bent. Justices Clarence Thomas, Neil Gorsuch and Amy Coney Barrett all have strong originalist backgrounds. Justices Samuel Alito and Brett Kavanaugh also seem originalist-inclined.

What this heralds for how constitutional rights will be interpreted moving forward is difficult to predict.

One near certainty is that the Second Amendment is going to be debated on originalist grounds. A gun rights case the justices heard in November saw a torrent of textual and historical arguments from both sides. Amicus briefs discussed 13th-century English law, the 1328 Statute of Northampton, and a 1770 state law in Georgia.

By the end of the oral argument, a majority all sounded willing to strike down a New York gun regulation. The justices also made clear that the original meaning of the Second Amendment and historical gun regulations would be central to their analysis. What they didn’t make clear was how that text and history should be analyzed.

“This is a wonderful case for showing both sides,” said Justice Stephen Breyer. “I’m not sure how to deal with the history.”

“The question is how to use history,” agreed Justice Elena Kagan. “How far up do you look? … With what sense of flexibility do you look?” she added. “Because we realize that the world has changed.”

Originalists have sought to thread this needle with a continuation of Scalia’s argument. While the “original public meaning” of constitutional text is fixed, they say, the factual circumstances around it can change.

Thus, while women were considered “covered” by their husbands or fathers, with few rights of their own, when the Constitution was ratified – and only a woman’s right to vote is now explicitly recognized by the 19th Amendment – originalists read women’s rights into the Constitution today because the words “person” and “citizen” now can be read to include women.

For some legal scholars, this nullifies most of the restraint originalism claims to own. Critics, for example, point out that abortion was legal under common law until about 1880. While the 14th Amendment was debated, the legality of abortion during the time of the founders was not discussed by any of the originalist justices during oral arguments during Dobbs v. Jackson, the case that is likely to shrink abortion rights if not completely overturn Roe.

“The entire premise of new originalism, that the original meaning of the Constitution is fixed, is absurd,” says Eric Segall, a professor at  Georgia State University College of Law and author of “Originalism as Faith.”

Some specific provisions may be fixed, like having two U.S. senators from each state, or that the president must be at least 35, but those provisions don’t tend to be litigated.

Critics point out that the hard questions concerning vague provisions are what the Supreme Court has to grapple with, such as clauses stating that people can’t be “deprived of life, liberty, or property without due process of law.”

“We don’t know what ‘due process’ means,” says Professor Segall. “Vague phrasings can’t have fixed meanings.”

This critique strikes at a core feature of modern originalism: the difference between the theoretical and the practical.

Scholars can do research to help cast light on what the actual meaning of the Constitution is, says Professor McConnell. Judges “have the practical job of applying it to real cases and to deal with precedents over time, and deal with prudence in judgment.”

“It’s not surprising that the answers that they give are sometimes a little different,” he adds.

“Cafeteria originalists”

Professor Balkin has a harsher assessment. Almost all judges he says, are what he calls “cafeteria originalists.”

“They invoke originalist rhetoric when it is convenient, and when it is not convenient they do not invoke it,” he adds.

This is the most originalist Supreme Court in American history, and it is also the most conservative Supreme Court in nearly a century. That, as much as any originalist rhetoric, critics say, is going to determine how constitutional rights are interpreted – and reinterpreted – moving forward.

The country could be poised for a shift in law as dramatic as that conducted by the Warren and Burger courts, they say. Originalist scholars, meanwhile, believe that as the theory matures, the judicial discretion it may currently allow will be restricted.

“Most constitutional issues would be settled by careful research into the original meaning of the constitutional text,” says Professor Solum.

And in the long run, he adds, a consistently originalist Supreme Court “would result in the perception that the court is a less political body, and it would be likely to restore trust in the court.”

Recycling kitchen scraps and unused food is the single easiest and fastest thing that every person can do to fight climate change, according to California recycling officials. That’s why, beginning Jan. 1, the most populous state in the nation is requiring every city and county to have a program to collect organic waste – from eggshells to yard trimmings – and turn it into compost, biofuel, or energy.

Several states, and even a few countries, such as France, have some type of law to keep food waste out of landfills, where it rots and gives off methane. That “super pollutant” greenhouse gas is 84 times more powerful and has a much worse short-term impact on the atmosphere than carbon dioxide. Yet, only tiny Vermont – with a population of about 625,000 – and mammoth California – with nearly 40 million people — have laws requiring universal recycling of organic waste by residents and businesses.

Given California’s size, the law’s potential for greenhouse gas reduction in the state is “huge,” says Rebecca Ryals, an assistant professor at the University of California, Merced, who is also a soil and climate-change expert. Organics make up more than half of everything Californians throw into landfills, which, themselves, account for 20% of the state’s methane pollution, according to CalRecycle, the state department of recycling. 

Getting organics out of landfills and reprocessing them “is an excellent goal; it’s a challenging goal,” says Professor Ryals. Below, the Monitor looks at what the law requires, how it can affect climate change, and the challenges of implementing the law.

What does California’s organic-waste law require?

Passed in 2016, the law (SB 1383) sets the state on a course to drastically reduce short-term super pollutants like methane, including a goal to reduce organic waste disposal by 75% by 2025. Starting next month, cities and counties must have programs to divert green waste from landfills by collecting it, and then either composting it or turning it into biofuel or energy. And they must procure and then utilize themselves or give away some of the compost, biofuel, or energy – by using biofuel in their government vehicles or spreading compost on public lands, for instance. 

Rich Pedroncelli/AP

Pumpkins, along with other organic matter, await composting at the anaerobic composting facility in Woodland, California, Nov. 30, 2021. Under California's law requiring people to recycle their food waste, most cities will allow the food to go in green waste bins before it heads to facilities like this one.

Residents can compost their own organic waste, but most people and businesses will rely on local waste management services to do the recycling for them. The main work for most homeowners and apartment dwellers will be to separate their kitchen scraps – bones and unused meat, sauces, vegetables, tea bags, coffee grinds and filters, banana peels, etc. – into a pail, and then empty that into yard-waste recycling bins.

Another goal of the law is to divert 20% of unused, edible food to people who need it. Starting in January, supermarkets must donate excess food to food banks instead of sending it to landfills. The same will hold true for hospitals, restaurants, schools, and other big food users in 2024.

The law has teeth, putting the burden of enforcement on cities and counties, with stiff fines if they don’t comply. Right now, though, CalRecycle says it’s more interested in educating about the law, which is the biggest change to trash since the state started recycling in the 1980s.

How does recycling food and yard waste help with climate change?

Climate scientists say the fastest way to bend the global-warming curve is to cut back on very potent greenhouse gases like methane.

Composting gives off minimal methane compared with landfills – 22 times less, says Neil Edgar, executive director of California Compost Coalition, a lobbying group for organic-material recyclers and composters. The process produces carbon dioxide (less potent and less damaging in the short term than methane), and has many benefits, says Mr. Edgar. Compost replenishes soil, which fosters plant growth – which, in turn, takes CO2 out of the air. And it keeps moisture in the soil, so there is less need for energy to pump water. In a heavily agricultural state like California, those are big pluses.

The other way to recycle organic waste is to use anaerobic digesters, which are more familiarly known for their ability to break down sewage sludge. Sending food and yard waste through this process produces methane that then gets turned either into biofuel or electricity. 

Landfills, too, can capture methane for energy, “but it’s not super efficient,” and there are a lot of “fugitive emissions” that escape, says Professor Ryals. “Sending organics to landfills just makes no sense.”

One problem with sending food and yard waste to composting and anaerobic digesting centers is the long distances that diesel trucks sometimes have to travel to transport the waste from homes and businesses. That’s an argument for more locally based recycling centers and trucks that burn clean fuel, say experts.

Rich Pedroncelli/AP

A pizza box is mixed in with other items awaiting composting at a facility in Woodland, California, Nov. 30, 2021. Farther south in the state, Pasadena plans to use existing infrastructure and keep things as local as possible in complying with the recycling law. There is no place close to Pasadena to compost yard waste, however.

How hard will it be to implement this law?

Here’s where Vermont’s experience is instructive. It passed universal organics recycling in 2012, but just implemented the final phase – residences – in 2020. Josh Kelly, supervisor of materials management for Vermont’s Department of Environmental Conservation, calls organics recycling “a major change” in people’s habits. It won’t take hold overnight. “It’s like the seatbelt law,” he says. “We know people don’t all do it.” 

On the plus side, Vermont’s organics-recycling law nearly tripled food donations in the early years, and composting and anaerobic digester centers have mostly seen year-over-year increases. The number of food scrap haulers has almost quadrupled. The law aimed to build a green infrastructure and jobs, and so far, it’s doing that, Mr. Kelly says.

On the other hand, trash haulers were reluctant to comply, and the requirement to offer organic waste collection services was delayed and modified. Now there’s concern about how to handle packaged food, because of plastics and metals.

In California, the southern part of the state lags, compared with the north. San Francisco, for instance, has required businesses and residents to put food scraps in curbside green bins since 2009. By contrast, neither Los Angeles nor San Diego is fully ready, and the state will need more composting and anaerobic digesting centers.

Pasadena, which is part of Los Angeles County, has been preparing for two years. It will use existing infrastructure and try to keep things local. 

Residents are to bag their kitchen waste and add it to their yard-waste bin. Food waste will be manually separated from yard waste at the local landfill, and turned into liquified bioslurry. That slurry will be fed into an existing anaerobic digesting facility at a Los Angeles County wastewater treatment plant. The resulting renewable natural gas powers the wastewater facility and Pasadena city vehicles, which run on natural gas. It’s a “win-win,” says Thanos Gauthier, the administrator of resource, recovery, and recycling in Pasadena.

Mr. Gauthier says his biggest takeaway from studying other places is that residents will resist separating out food waste because of the “ick factor” – the smell, the mess, the potential for vermin. That’s why the city says residents should put their kitchen food scraps into plastic bags – repurposing bags they have on hand, like produce bags – and also continue to use garbage disposals as they normally would. “We are trying to make things simple,” he adds.

But making sure businesses and larger multi-unit residential buildings are complying is much harder, because they are serviced by private haulers, not the city. The haulers will have to work out arrangements with their customers, yet the city will have to ensure compliance, and that will require more resources. 

Also, there is no place close to Pasadena to handle the yard waste. For two years, it’s been sent for composting to Oxnard, about 75 miles away. Trash collection fees, which haven’t been raised in a decade, are going to have to increase, says Mr. Gauthier. 

“Our local municipalities need more resources to get this off the ground,” says Professor Ryals. “What we don’t want is for the implementation to be hurried, not done well, or poor communication, and all the stuff ends up in the landfill anyway.”

Nick Roll

Marie Therese Ndeye Sonko poses for a photo outside the Memory House, a museum dedicated to victims of Gambian dictator Yahya Jammeh's regime, in Bakau, Gambia, Nov. 18, 2021. Her son Emil was killed by police during student protests under Mr. Jammeh's rule.

At first, Marie Therese Ndeye Sonko refused to believe her son was dead. 

In the dizzying aftermath of the student protests in April 2000, where police fired live rounds into the crowds, Ms. Ndeye couldn’t bring herself to go to the morgue where she was told Emil lay. 

Instead, she walked from hospital to hospital, police station to police station, tallying up untold miles as she trekked across Gambia’s seaside capital and the surrounding towns hoping for different news. But she couldn’t change the truth. Eventually, Ms. Ndeye mustered the strength to drag herself to the morgue to identify the body.

In the 21 years since, she’s gone without knowing the identity of her son’s killer, and also without so much as a word, an acknowledgment, an apology – anything, she says – from Yahya Jammeh, the Gambian dictator in power at the time.

The killings at the protest were hushed up. For years, silence was the policy for Jammeh-era crimes that spanned the torture and murder of political opponents, “witch hunts” of women accused of sorcery, and medical abuse of HIV patients.

Recently, the country has moved in a markedly different direction. The Truth, Reconciliation, and Reparations Commission (TRRC) put in place by President Adama Barrow, who ousted Mr. Jammeh at the ballot box in 2016, has collected hundreds of testimonies from victims like Ms. Ndeye and perpetrators. Broadcasts of the proceedings commanded rapt attention at restaurants and in corner stores – wherever people could access a television or radio. The commission’s final report was submitted to the government in November and is due to be made public by the end of the year.

However, the hardest part in Gambia’s post-Jammeh era is yet to come: moving forward with – and defining – justice, reconciliation, and healing. It’s a tall order, namely when it comes to how and whom to prosecute, and whether that will include Mr. Jammeh. 

“​​Post-conflict healing requires a delicate mix of truth-telling, reconciliation, [and] soul-searching to identify the dynamics which gave rise to the violence in the first place,” says Corinne Dufka, West Africa director at Human Rights Watch, in an email. 

At the same time, truth commissions across the continent and world have infamously issued final reports that sit in boxes collecting dust, with no government follow-up.

Truth commissions, Ms. Dufka says, “are not designed nor should be made to bear the burden of delivering justice, which requires the strengthening of rule of law institutions and trials for those who bear the greatest responsibility for mass atrocity.”

Not just a report

In Gambia, doubts have mounted about whether the government will actually implement the TRRC’s report. 

For starters, the report’s submission has been repeatedly delayed. Even more worrying for some, Mr. Barrow created an electoral alliance with Mr. Jammeh’s old political party ahead of his reelection in December. (Mr. Jammeh didn’t support the alliance, and – from exile in Equatorial Guinea – threw his support behind a rival candidate.) 

On the other hand, there is tangible pressure for the government to act – including from the International Criminal Court at a recent democracy conference held in Banjul’s suburbs. 

Nick Roll

Baba Galleh Jallow, former executive secretary of Gambia's Truth, Reconciliation, and Reparations Commission, speaks to the Monitor at his home south of Banjul, in West Coast Region, Gambia, Nov. 16, 2021. He says the commission's choice to broadcast testimonials made the truth accessible to Gambians.

At home, the commission’s decision to hold testimonial hearings throughout the country – and broadcast them – made truth-telling and reconciliation accessible to ordinary people, says Baba Galleh Jallow, the former executive secretary of Gambia’s TRRC. Doing so also acted as insurance, in case the government fails to implement the commission’s recommendations.

“We had to go beyond just writing a report with recommendations. We had to go out there, and talk to the people about what happened,” says Mr. Jallow. Collecting the truth “was meant to be a subversive process.”

Mr. Jammeh will be recommended for prosecution in the final report, Mr. Jallow says, but he pegs the odds of all its recommendations being implemented at only around 50-50. Officials still part of the commission were more guarded in their assessment, declining to reveal details or place blame on the Barrow government for the report’s delays, as Mr. Jallow does.

After his reelection, Mr. Barrow told the press that “there will be justice” but has so far been vague on details. 

Rewriting history

Those fearing the worst in Gambia, though, point to Liberia. If the government there had followed recommendations from the country’s truth commission, a war crimes court would have formed over a decade ago to address two civil wars stretching from the late 1980s to the early 2000s. Instead, rebel leaders accused of atrocities sit in Congress in Monrovia. 

Others say truth commissions on their own are powerful even in the absence of government action. From Chad to South Africa, they have exposed previously covered-up atrocities and led to some healing, even if they haven’t always led to prosecutions.

In Burundi, journalist Desire Nimubona has been following a truth commission focused mostly on a 1972 genocide. As mass graves are unearthed, history is being rewritten in real time, says Mr. Nimubona, a Hutu who narrowly survived a stabbing by a Tutsi schoolmate. 

He’s also witnessed profound examples of forgiveness, like when victims and perpetrators have come together and publicly declared their reconciliation. 

Prosecutions are unlikely, though – and there are plenty of critics who want the commission to expand its scope. Mr. Nimubona, for his part, worries prosecutions might cause instability. But he doesn’t want the reconciliation process to be so rushed that forgiveness is imposed. 

“The government says, ‘Oh no, we need to reconcile, we need to forget.’ But I think it is better to forgive someone who has asked for forgiveness. … I think people need to apologize.”

Nick Roll

Awa Njie poses for a photo outside the Memory House, a museum dedicated to victims of Gambian dictator Yahya Jammeh's regime, in Baku, Gambia, Nov. 18, 2021. Her husband was killed in a purge of military officers during Mr. Jammeh's rule.

“Prepared for whatever comes”

Ms. Ndeye says she has forgiven whoever killed her son. She’s even forgiven Mr. Jammeh. 

But she isn’t calling for a stop to prosecutions – and neither is Awa Njie. 

“The perpetrators must be brought to justice – including Yahya Jammeh,” says Ms. Njie, whose husband, an army officer, was killed soon after Mr. Jammeh came to power. For those demanding prosecutions, the issue is about more than individual cases of forgiveness and reconciliation. It’s about correcting two decades of government impunity.

For now, with the future of the TRRC’s final report still uncertain, those fighting for justice are forging ahead however they can.

“Truth-telling is important. It is a commendable step by the government,” says Lisa Camara, a program manager at the African Network against Extrajudicial Killings and Enforced Disappearances (ANEKED), a Gambia-based victims advocacy organization.

But ANEKED isn’t keen to rely entirely on the government. It leads independent lawsuits on behalf of Jammeh-era victims, organizes community dialogues on healing and forgiveness, and supports a museum that honors victims. “We will continue advocating whether the report and the recommendations come out or not, whatever is in [those] recommendations.”

“The TRRC [is] not the only avenue,” she says. “We have a plan. We’re prepared for whatever comes – if recommendations come out or not, we’re going to continue advocacy, we’re going to continue to support the victims.”

Weekend after summer weekend, men in pristine white trousers are greeted by polite ripples of applause as they stride onto village greens the length and breadth of England, poised not so much to play a game as to reenact a centuries-old cultural rite.

Nurtured on county lawns – then exported during Britain’s imperial age to the Caribbean, Australia, and the Indian subcontinent – English cricket has long cultivated a genteel image, rooted above all in the idea of fair play.

But that image is suddenly taking a battering following a string of accusations of racism aimed at players of South Asian heritage – made even worse by revelations of how the complaints were initially ignored, and then played down, in the evident hope that they would simply go away.

Now, far from going away, the controversy has escalated into a front-page scandal, drawing in not only top cricket players but also leading politicians, including Prime Minister Boris Johnson.

And that has prompted the cricketing authorities to take a series of high-profile steps to signal they’re intent on beginning to put things right.

The cricket establishment now finds itself looking to learn lessons from soccer’s aggressive zero-tolerance policy on racism. Britain’s other national sport struggled for years with ugly incidents of prejudice toward its Black players, while cricket watched serenely. But soccer authorities have worked to root out racism in locker rooms, in the stands, and online, and now cricket seems set to follow suit.

“Banter” or slur?

At the center of the cricket controversy is the most famous, and most successful, of England’s professional county clubs, Yorkshire, and a former standout player there named Azeem Rafiq, who first alerted the club’s management three years ago to the racist epithets and other forms of pressure or abuse that he and other players of Asian heritage were suffering.

At first, management did nothing. After he raised the issue during a BBC interview, it did set up an inquiry. But that probe ultimately played down the seriousness of the allegations, dismissing the frequent use of a racial slur referring to people of Pakistani heritage as a part of locker-room “banter.”

None of the individuals named by Mr. Rafiq were disciplined or dismissed.

Nigel French/PA Images/Reuters

Azeem Rafiq bowls for Yorkshire against Surrey in his playing days. He has since pulled the curtain back on the racism below the surface of English cricket.

And while the club did offer a financial settlement, that was conditional on a nondisclosure agreement, which he refused to sign.

Only a drumbeat of further revelations in British newspapers finally forced a reckoning last month.

The chairman of the club, who’d arrived after Mr. Rafiq had retired from playing, was the first to resign, saying he’d tried but failed to get the top executives to treat the issue with the seriousness it deserved, or to persuade the national cricketing authorities to intervene.

Now, Yorkshire is paying a price. The club’s main corporate sponsors have withdrawn their support, and the England and Wales Cricket Board has suspended the use of Yorkshire’s famous cricket ground, Headingley, for lucrative international matches.

Then Yorkshire named a new chairman, Kamlesh Patel. He is a senior member of the national Cricket Board, a leading voice on social and mental health affairs, and a member of the House of Lords. He is also of Asian descent.

Lord Patel promptly oversaw a top-to-bottom clear-out of the existing management and coaching staff. He also agreed to a financial settlement with Mr. Rafiq, without any nondisclosure clause, fully aware that Mr. Rafiq was about to testify to a parliamentary committee on his experiences of racism.

Far from unique

Mr. Rafiq’s testimony turned out to be explosive, and at times tearful, detailing an environment of intolerance and racism that went far beyond name-calling.

Lauded by Mr. Johnson for his bravery in speaking out, Mr. Rafiq recalled being forced to drink alcohol during his youth cricketing career, violating his beliefs as a practicing Muslim; enduring “deep-rooted” racism during his two spells at Yorkshire between 2008 and 2018 that left him feeling close to suicidal; and being treated in an “inhuman way” when his son was delivered stillborn in 2017.

Other English cricketers of Asian heritage echoed his account, and leading cricket writers and commentators said such behavior occurred in other county clubs as well.

Describing the parliamentary testimony as “spellbinding,” cricket journalist George Dobell urged people “not [to] think his experiences are unique. They are so far from it.”

Those running the game appear to have a newfound sense of urgency. The chief executive of the Cricket Board, Tom Harrison, used his own appearance before the parliamentary committee to denounce Yorkshire’s handling of the allegations, saying it “speaks to institutional racism” that not just Yorkshire but all the English clubs now had to confront uncompromisingly.

If cricket did not “fix” the problem Mr. Rafiq and others had highlighted, and “fix it fast,” he said the very “survival of our sport” was in peril.

Soccer to the rescue?

The nature of that “fix” may be influenced by English football, which has been mounting an open assault on racism toward its many Black players.

Off the back of America’s Black Lives Matter movement, England’s national soccer team chose to take the knee ahead of all its games in this year's European Championship tournament – a move endorsed by its manager and now observed weekly by all the professional teams in England’s domestic Premier League.

The soccer clubs have also partnered with an anti-racism body called Kick It Out in making a set of recommendations to strengthen online safety legislation and ensure that victims of racial and other abuse on social media are protected.   

“There is a sense that soccer understands that it works as part of society and not within a vacuum,” says Simon Windsor, a radio commentator who witnessed “monkey chants” aimed at Black players during the 1970s and ’80s. Racism has not disappeared, he acknowledges, but “soccer, at least, forced doors of conversation open to allow for progress.”

Among moves under consideration in cricket are a range of steps paralleling soccer’s approach: clamping down on racist chants during games, an education program to improve dressing-room culture, and a partnership of its own with Kick It Out.

A recently launched “equity” hotline for those with discrimination complaints has already received more than 2,000 calls.

Lord Patel, along with Mr. Harrison and other national cricket figures, has been keen to stress that truly addressing the problem is going to take time. 

But the new determination to tackle the issue is being seen at least as a start.

“I’m filled with hope, but that is at the expense of Rafiq and others in the British Asian community,” says Zulfiqar Ali, a Yorkshire cricket fan born a stone’s throw from the club’s ground.

“Cricket will have lost many fans, but with purpose and a will to change, they can be brought back.” 

It’s snowing at the New Jersey Expo Center – indoors. As a snow machine spews fake flakes, attendees of Christmas Con pose for photos in the ersatz blizzard. The 12,000 participants are accustomed to make-believe snow. It’s a staple of the movie genre that this convention is celebrating: Christmas holiday romances pioneered by the Hallmark Channel and emulated by Lifetime, GAC Family, and Netflix. It doesn’t matter that their plots are predictable. That’s part of the fun. 

“At T-minus 30 minutes, there’s the almost kiss,” enthuses Eric Hedlund, a Virginia-based naval rocket scientist who is here with his wife and her four sisters. “Then, minus 15 minutes, there’s the conflict twist that gets resolved in T minus five minutes. ... The final kiss at T-zero.”

The most important part of the formula? “There’s always a happy ending,” the sisters say in unison. 

Unlike conventions for comic books, sci-fi, and anime, Christmas Con caters to a less conspicuous type of geek: suburban moms. Accompanied by daughters, siblings, and friends (Mr. Hedlund was a rare husband) they’ve come to express fandom for movies such as the Hallmark offerings “A Royal Christmas” and “Never Kiss a Man in a Christmas Sweater.” The primary appeal of the genre is wholesome romance. But more than that, these tales center around families and communities that overcome differences and celebrate beloved traditions. They aren’t just a respite from day-to-day stress but also offer an aspirational ideal of seeing most people as fundamentally good-hearted. If that encapsulates the Christmas spirit, attendees have come here to commune with others who share that sensibility.

“Hallmark always said that they were the network of love, and I actually think they’re the network of hope,” says Nikki DeLoach, star of numerous movies on the channel. “In a world where there’s often news that induces fear and anxiety, and there’s so much uncertainty ... you want to be able to escape inside of something that offers you hope that, at the end of the day, everything’s going to be OK.”

Stephen Humphries/The Christian Science Monitor

Stars of holiday movies pose with an event organizer for a fan photo at Christmas Con on Dec. 11, 2021. Those attending include Danica McKellar (first row, third from left), Jonathan Bennett (first row, fifth from left), Christmas Con co-founder Trinh Ho (first row, fourth from right), and Nikki DeLoach (first row, third from right).

Like other pop culture conventions, there are numerous panel discussions with stars and opportunities for selfies. There’s cosplay (elf costumes) and even a few men in capes (Victorian garb worn by carol singers). Unlike your average Comic Con, however, there’s also an Ugly Christmas Sweater contest. 

Christine Isaacs is wearing a dress-length sweater that looks like a baubled Christmas tree. The December holidays are her favorite season, she says, and the television at her Long Island home is constantly tuned to the Hallmark channel. Last year, her family decided not to take the Christmas tree down. “2020,” says Christine’s sister, Maggie, by way of explanation. The sisters, accompanied by their mother and an aunt, like to joke about the tropes in holiday movies.

“Somebody comes from their big-city job to go help their family’s bakery or inn,” says Maggie.

“They’re about to lose it. The community comes together and saves it,” says Christine.

Mother Wanda adds, “There’s the high school sweetheart, but they separated because they didn’t want to hold the other one back.” 

Maggie adopts a dramatic tone: “I want to let you go live your dreams.”

“But my dream is you,” deadpans Christine before breaking into a giggle.

Hallmark is the progenitor of this genre. In 2002, it produced four original holiday movies. This year it aired 29. The chaste dramas are suitable for family viewing. Moreover, the movies steer clear of plotlines that get too heavy or distressing. The genre’s empowered female protagonists invite the target audience to lean in.

Stephen Humphries/The Christian Science Monitor

Christmas Con attendees snap photos of actors during a Christmas tree-lighting ceremony on Dec. 11, 2021. Fans of holiday movies on Hallmark Channel, Lifetime, and GAC Family dressed up for the festive evening, which included panel discussions with their favorite cast members.

“I know women who watch these movies because they are so female-centric,” says Alonso Duralde, co-author of “I’ll Be Home for Christmas Movies” in a phone interview. “They’re about women getting the balance that they want, getting to have the career they want, and the romance they want, and the family closeness.” 

The Hallmark channel was a sponsor of the inaugural Christmas Con in 2019. The network doesn’t have an official presence at this, the second convention, even though many of its stars are here. But Hallmark isn’t the only game in town. GAC Family, a country music outlet that has been rebranded as a family entertainment channel, has lured away several Hallmark regulars. Danica McKellar, one of the biggest stars at Christmas Con, is here to promote GAC Family’s upcoming “The Winter Palace.” (It’s about a novelist who is house-sitting a snowbound chalet in Colorado when a handsome European prince unexpectedly comes to stay. Hey, it could happen.) Longtime Hallmark stalwarts Melissa Joan Hart and Cindy Busby have filmed holiday movies for Lifetime this year.

The competition for viewers may be having an effect. Several Christmas Con attendees mention that the writing on Hallmark has become sharper and genuinely funny. They’ve observed, too, that holiday movies have begun avoiding overused scenarios and are even offering up meta jokes about the genre’s tropes.

“There’s more of a willingness to let things get a little more complicated or maybe summon up some feelings that are a little darker or at least less, you know, wholesome or cozy than in previous films,” says Mr. Duralde, who is a film review editor at The Wrap. “But still getting us to the place we want to go, still leading up to that inevitable ‘everything works out’ and everybody gets what they want.” 

Hallmark is making efforts to freshen its stories. In October, Crown Media Family Networks, its parent company, hired a new executive vice president of programming: Lisa Hamilton Daly, a former Netflix executive who developed shows such as “Virgin River” and “Sweet Magnolias.” 

“Looking ahead, we plan to feature storylines about love beyond just romantic relationships and explore more complex themes, delving into the many forms of love, family, and kinship,” says Ms. Daly in an email, pointing out the greater diversity in this year’s slate of offerings. She adds, “We are eager to diversify our content to be truly authentic and illustrative through such storytelling.”

In 2019, the channel came under fire for pulling a commercial that showed brides kissing. Soon after, Crown Media hired a new CEO, Wonya Lucas, a champion of diversifying Hallmark to include more people of color and representation of LGBTQ characters. Last year, the channel aired “The Christmas House” starring openly gay actor Jonathan Bennett in a storyline about a same-sex couple looking to adopt children. 

Mr. Bennett, the official host of Christmas Con, recalls a woman coming up to him to tell him about the impact that “The Christmas House” had when her child transitioned to become a man.

“To see LGBTQ+ love represented in a Hallmark movie meant the world to their family and helped them get through that Christmas,” says Mr. Bennett, whose latest movie, “The Christmas House 2: Deck Those Halls,” premiered last weekend. “She was bawling.”

Stephen Humphries/The Christian Science Monitor

NaKeara Bond (left) and Chanel McCord from New Jersey arrive at their first-ever Christmas Con on Dec. 11, 2021.

Christmas Con attendees Chanel McCord and NaKeara Bond are among viewers who’ve noticed the channel’s moves toward greater representation of Black characters in recent fare such as “The Santa Stakeout” and “A Holiday in Harlem.” Ms. McCord appreciated that the protagonist of the latter movie wasn’t the sort of six-figure-salary career women who tend to be staples of the genre.

“It brings it more home to the everyday person,” she says. “You can really see yourself as a part of the story, like the fantasy of it.” 

Penny Blaisdell from New York and Kristen Borgerson from Lancaster, Pennsylvania, say they make a point of watching movies with Black characters because they’d like to see more of them. But as much as the duo welcome the inclusivity and diversity, they hope that the channel won’t tinker with the core “comfort food” essence of the movies – including the fanciful plots. 

“My, there’s a lot of minor royalty that comes to New York in disguise,” cracks Ms. Borgerson, her hair coated with snow falling from the nearby machine. 

The two text each other while watching the same movies, which gives them something to talk about other than politics and the pandemic. At the convention, they enjoy striking up conversations with other participants. The good cheer is an escape from the outside.

“We don’t think it’s like real life, but that’s what we’re looking for,” adds Ms Borgerson. “We live real life; Hallmark movies are fun.”  

Courtesy of the John D. and Catherine T. MacArthur Foundation

Reginald Dwayne Betts is providing "freedom libraries" to U.S. prisons.

Libraries have been called the cornerstone of democracy. They are sources of information available to anyone, regardless of background, wealth, or social status.

For formerly incarcerated people reentering society, they can provide a way to search for jobs and learn skills in a world that can seem to have passed them by. But libraries are also a valuable resource for the more than 2 million men and women still imprisoned in the United
States.

While providing libraries within prison walls is not a new idea, their quality can vary greatly. Often incarcerated people are looking for legal tomes, researching possible ways to appeal their sentences. Religious and self-help books are popular, too. And like other librarygoers, people in prison just thirst to learn something new.

Last year the Andrew W. Mellon Foundation announced it would spend $5.3 million to distribute microlibraries of 500 books each to prisons in all 50 states, Puerto Rico, and Washington, D.C.

The man behind the library project, called Freedom Reads, is Reginald Dwayne Betts, who since his release from prison has published his poetry and is studying law at Yale University. Earlier this year he was awarded a 2021 MacArthur Fellowship, popularly known as a “genius grant.” The 500 selected books, which Mr. Betts helped to pick out, and which he calls a “freedom library,” cover a wide range of topics. They include both fiction and nonfiction, with an emphasis on books aimed at making the reader think.

“My own experience as a formerly incarcerated individual has been distinctively shaped by the power of books,” he said at the time the microlibrary project was announced last year. “In books is where I found redemption; reading is where I found freedom.”

Through Freedom Reads, he says he hopes that “each and every one of my incarcerated brothers and sisters will be able to find a newfound freedom and hope that only literature can bring.”

Mr. Betts visited Boston recently, helping to install a “freedom library” in a cell at a state prison in Norfolk, Massachusetts. It’s believed to be the cell in which Malcolm X was incarcerated during the late 1940s.

Through reading, men and women can travel to new worlds, despite being physically confined. “These books can become a part of their life for as long as they have to be there,” he told The Boston Globe. “Also, the books can become a conduit for them not having to be there.”

Equipped with a good library, those behind bars can encounter new ideas that expand their views of life and its possibilities.