The assault on Paul Pelosi, husband of Democratic House Speaker Nancy Pelosi, late last week in the couple’s San Francisco home can be seen as an extension of the Jan. 6, 2021, siege of the U.S. Capitol. 

Just as Jan. 6 rioters shouted for “Nancy” – with apparent intent to harm or kill the speaker – so too did David DePape, her husband’s alleged attacker, ask for “Nancy” after breaking into the Pelosi home early Friday, according to the federal affidavit accompanying criminal charges filed Monday. The affidavit also said the attacker carried zip ties, tape, and rope, another Jan. 6 echo. 

Social media accounts bearing Mr. DePape’s name espoused views similar to those of people who stormed the Capitol, according to news reports – casting doubt on the 2020 election results, repeating QAnon conspiracy theories, and spreading racist and antisemitic rhetoric. 

Mr. DePape is charged with attempting to kidnap a federal official (Speaker Pelosi) and assaulting an immediate family member of a federal official. But much remains to be learned about the incident, including Mr. DePape’s mental state. Over the weekend, far-right figures circulated a sensational story from a website known for publishing misinformation, with Twitter owner Elon Musk at one point tweeting out and then deleting the link. On Sunday, District Attorney Brooke Jenkins told reporters she wanted to “clear up distortions” on social media, confirming that the incident had been a “forced entry.” 

Based on what is known, the attack – just days before the Nov. 8 midterm elections – fits into a larger pattern of rising threats, dehumanization, and physical violence against political figures, experts on extremism say.  

“The bottom line is, in our research, hate crimes have been going up every year, threats against members of Congress and other elected officials are going up, and the invective online goes up,” says Brian Levin, director of the Center for the Study of Hate and Extremism at California State University, San Bernardino. 

Professor Levin adds that there’s a “seasonality to these plots, threats, and attacks,” often taking place around major political events.

Kevin Wolf/AP/File

Speaker Pelosi and Paul Pelosi are shown arriving at the State Department for the Kennedy Center Honors dinner on Dec. 7, 2019, in Washington. In a "Dear Colleague" letter released Sunday, Ms. Pelosi expressed gratitude for the prayers and well wishes from fellow lawmakers and for the quick response by law enforcement and emergency services in responding to the attack on her husband.

In the current cycle, there’s a knock-on effect: The nation is facing a shortage of election workers, as many have quit amid threats and harassment, ignited by false claims that the 2020 election was stolen. 

For members of Congress and other prominent federal and state officials, serving in public office increasingly entails concerns over security. Just last week, three men were found guilty of conspiracy in a 2020 plot to kidnap Michigan Democratic Gov. Gretchen Whitmer. Prosecutors said the men had objected to COVID-19 restrictions she had imposed. 

As of July, members of the House could be reimbursed up to $10,000 to enhance security in their homes. But more is needed, lawmakers say. Speaking on NBC’s “Meet the Press” Sunday, Democratic Sen. Amy Klobuchar of Minnesota said that having security details present at top congressional leaders’ houses should be “strongly considered.” Others have proposed lowering the threshold for assigning a temporary security detail to a member under threat. 

In Congress, the trend is clear: In the five years following Donald Trump’s election as president, threats against members of Congress increased more than tenfold to 9,625 last year, according to the Capitol Police. A New York Times review of threats that led to indictments found that more than a third were made by Republicans or pro-Trump people, and about a quarter were by Democrats. 

Speaker Pelosi, the most powerful woman in the country and second in the line of succession to the presidency, has faced especially vicious verbal attacks, and at times is featured in Republican political ads as an almost demonic figure. She has a Capitol Police security detail, as do other members of the congressional leadership, but was in Washington at the time of the attack in San Francisco.

Her husband, a wealthy businessman in his early 80s, was home alone in the wee hours of last Friday when an intruder broke into the house and found him in a bedroom. Mr. Pelosi was able to call 911, and as police arrived, Mr. DePape allegedly attacked him with a hammer before being subdued by police. Mr. Pelosi was hospitalized with a fractured skull and other injuries but is expected to make a full recovery, according to the speaker’s office.

The federal affidavit contained detail that helped explain Mr. DePape’s goal in going after Ms. Pelosi. In an interview with police, he said he wanted to hold her hostage and “talk to her.” If she “lied,” he said, he was going to break “her kneecaps,” showing “other members of Congress there were consequences to actions.”

Republican leaders have denounced the assault on Mr. Pelosi but also asserted that both sides are to blame for overheated political rhetoric. 

“We all need to recognize violence is up across the board,” Republican National Committee Chairwoman Ronna McDaniel said Sunday on Fox News. 

The RNC chair noted two high-profile incidents affecting Republicans this year, one an attempted knife attack in July on New York Rep. Lee Zeldin, who is running for governor. The other took place in June, before the Supreme Court’s anticipated ruling on abortion, when an armed man was arrested near conservative Justice Brett Kavanaugh’s home, saying he wanted to kill him. 

High-profile shootings have also touched both parties in recent years. In 2017, GOP Rep. Steve Scalise of Louisiana was gravely wounded and three others were shot at a congressional baseball practice by a supporter of Vermont Sen. Bernie Sanders. And in 2011, then-Rep. Gabrielle Giffords, a Democrat from Arizona, was shot in the head and six others killed by a lone gunman at an outdoor event for constituents in Tucson. 

Godofredo A. Vásquez/AP

Flowers are placed outside the Pelosis' home in San Francisco, Oct. 28, 2022.

Still, some experts on extremism warn against engaging in “both-sides-ism” when discussing overheated political rhetoric. Senate Democratic leader Chuck Schumer drew criticism from Republicans when he stood outside the Supreme Court in 2020 with abortion-rights activists and warned the two Trump-appointed justices: “You have released the whirlwind and you will pay the price.” 

Carolyn Gallaher, a professor at American University and expert on right-wing paramilitaries, says that was “obviously not a good thing to say,” but believes Senator Schumer’s words can’t be equated with inflammatory right-wing rhetoric.

“All politicians have to be careful about the language they use, but Chuck Schumer doesn’t have paramilitary forces on the ground supporting him,” Professor Gallaher says, referring to groups such as the Proud Boys and Oath Keepers.

Regarding Speaker Pelosi, Ms. Gallaher points to increasingly personalized rhetoric that permeates the right-wing ecosystem and can trigger action: “She’s not just our opponent; she’s a quote-unquote enemy of the people, a danger to the body politic.”

Despite the seemingly bleak picture, however, both Mr. Levin and Ms. Gallaher see avenues for hope – by going local.

“A lot can be done, including exercises in bipartisanship,” says Mr. Levin. “The more that people work together toward a common goal, the more likely their prejudices will be challenged.”

Late afternoon sun glints off mountaintops dusted with the season’s first snowfall as costumed children parade up and down Alpine’s main street. They’re collecting candy and other handouts from stalls run by local businesses in an annual Halloween-related event run by the Chamber of Commerce.

Early voting is also underway in Utah. And while Halloween comes around every year, the 2022 midterms feature something rarely seen in this state: a competitive race in a general election.

The last time ruby-red Utah sent a non-Republican to the U.S. Senate was 1972, but this year two-term GOP Sen. Mike Lee is facing a close reelection race.

His main opponent isn’t a Democrat, but an independent, Evan McMullin, who made his name in 2016 as an anti-Trump conservative presidential candidate. He lost, of course, but in Utah, where Donald Trump’s peccadillos and policies went down poorly, he received one-fifth of votes cast.

Now Mr. McMullin, a former CIA officer, is trying to unseat Mr. Lee with a coalition of Democrats, independents, and moderate Republicans. One lane is wide open: the state’s Democratic Party chose not to field a candidate and instead to support Mr. McMullin. What’s surprising, and possibly a harbinger of future intra-GOP ruptures, is the number of Republicans in suburbs like Alpine who may shun Mr. Lee, in large part because of his closeness to Trump.

That makes Mr. McMullin’s unlikely candidacy a test of how far an anti-Trump centrist coalition can go in a conservative state that puts great stock in moral character and public service. It comes at a time of rising concern about antidemocratic movements in other Western states like Arizona and Nevada where prominent Trump-endorsed election deniers are on the ballot. Mr. McMullin has sought to cast Mr. Lee as an extremist who tried to reverse Mr. Trump’s defeat in 2020; Mr. Lee, a lawyer, insists that he simply offered legal advice to the then-president.

The lack of fealty to Mr. Trump among Republicans in Utah makes its Senate race something of an outlier, says Matthew Burbank, a politics professor at the University of Utah. “I don’t think there’s many other places where you’d have this kind of dynamic,” he says. “Many [Utah] Republicans, even conservative Republicans, really never were comfortable with Trump. They wouldn’t come out and say that but privately they’d say, ‘I just don’t like the guy.’”

Rare strategic voting

Another factor that is hard to replicate is Democratic support at the expense of their own candidate. Strategic voting, even in a race that a party has no chance of winning, remains rare in U.S. politics. Parties and candidates exist to contest for power, not stand by and watch.

Take Montana’s new 2nd Congressional District, where Gary Buchanan, a former state official in Democratic and Republican administrations, is running as an independent against Matt Rosendale, a pro-Trump Republican. But since Democrats have their own candidate in the race, it’s proving harder for Mr. Buchanan to build a winning centrist coalition.

Mr. Lee is still favored to win reelection in Utah. An early October poll by the University of Utah’s Hinckley Institute of Politics and the Deseret News put Mr. Lee ahead of Mr. McMullin by 41%-37% among likely voters, with 12% undecided. (Two other candidates are on the ballot.)

Around a quarter of those undecided voters identified as moderate Republicans, a crucial constituency in this race, says Jason Perry, who directs the Hinckley Institute. “It’s that movable middle right now which is proving to be the battleground for these two candidates,” he says.

Should Mr. McMullin pull off an upset victory, his could potentially be the decisive vote in an evenly divided chamber. He says he wouldn’t caucus with either party. But that leaves open the possibility that his vote, or non-vote, decides who becomes the Senate Majority Leader.

“If he does win and he becomes that one vote that everyone wants, then his strategy will have worked. He’ll be the vote that people are seeking. [But] if the Republicans have a majority where that one vote is not needed, it changes his value proposition,” says Mr. Perry, who previously worked in Republican administrations in Utah.

Rick Bowmer/AP

Utah Republican Sen. Mike Lee, left, and his independent challenger Evan McMullin face off during a televised debate Monday, Oct. 17, 2022, in Orem, Utah, three weeks before Election Day.

Mr. Lee has the support of Utah’s Republican leadership, with one notable exception: Sen. Mitt Romney. Republicans say Mr. Romney doesn’t offer endorsements so his refusal to do so this time, even after Mr. Lee asked publicly for his support, shouldn’t be overinterpreted. But Mr. McMullin’s supporters have made hay from the neutrality of Mr. Romney, who was among seven Republicans who voted to impeach Trump after the Jan. 6 attacks.

In a televised Oct. 17 debate, Mr. Lee called Mr. McMullin an “opportunistic gadfly supported by the Democratic Party” who voted in 2020 for President Biden and his expansive federal programs. He argued that Mr. McMullin can’t be trusted to resist a Democratic agenda and pointed to his own voting record in Congress against major spending bills.

Even among Republicans not totally sold on Mr. Lee, that is a potent line of attack.

“I do like Evan,” says Maureen Lifton, a retiree who had joined her family at Alpine’s trick-or-treat event. “But I don’t like the fact that he’s supported by the Democratic Party.”

She described herself as a former Democrat who leans Republican and plans to vote for Mr. Lee so he could stand up to wasteful government spending.

But Laura, a mother of six who was taking a food break in a playground, said she would be voting against Mr. Lee. As a moderate Republican, she was disappointed that Becky Edwards, a GOP state lawmaker, failed to beat Mr. Lee in Utah’s primary in June. Ms. Edwards had attacked Mr. Lee over his efforts to overturn Trump’s election defeat.

This issue vexed Laura, who declined to give her family name. “I’m not on board with any of that, no way,” she says.

Attitudes among Mormons

Another reason she cited for voting for Mr. McMullin was Mr. Lee’s praise for Mr. Trump in 2020 when he compared the president to Captain Moroni, a scriptural hero in the Book of Mormon. Like many in Alpine, 30 miles south of Salt Lake City, she belongs to the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. Both Mr. Lee and Mr. McMullin are members of the church, which has long been hugely influential in the state.

Republicans admit that the Moroni controversy, which Mr. McMullin has used in attack ads, dented Mr. Lee’s image among suburban Utah soccer moms. Trump is broadly unpopular with Mormons, particularly younger voters. While he carried Utah in 2020, Mr. Trump barely won a majority nationally among Mormons under 40, according to the 2020 Cooperative Election Study. (He won 80% of votes cast by Mormons over 40.)

It’s not just Mr. Trump’s character flaws that turn off Mormon voters, says Robert Saldin, a politics professor at the University of Montana and director of its Ethics and Public Affairs Program. Mr. Trump’s campaign in 2016 that targeted immigrants and Muslims also landed badly among a religious minority attuned to persecution. Mormons “have a shared history of how things can go really, really wrong, how they can be scapegoated and demonized,” says Professor Saldin, co-author of “Never Trump: The Revolt of the Conservative Elites.” “There was always significant resistance within the Mormon community to Trump.”

This resistance helped propel Mr. McMullin’s presidential run in 2016. As a conservative, he got protest votes from Republicans who didn’t support Mr. Trump. Among them was Mike Lee, who was first elected to the Senate in 2010 and became known for carrying a copy of the constitution that he often brandished when he railed against excessive government power.

Mr. Lee subsequently allied himself with Mr. Trump and was active in the effort to overturn the 2020 election. In a text message sent to White House chief of staff Mark Meadows released by the House panel investigating January 6th, Mr. Lee offered to assemble a group of “ready and loyal advocates who will go to bat” for Mr. Trump. He also backed a scheme for state legislators to endorse alternate pro-Trump electors for the congressional tally of electoral votes.

In their debate, Mr. Lee claimed he never supported “fake electors” and had voted to certify Joe Biden’s victory. “I was one of the people trying to stop this from happening,” he said. Mr. McMullin accused him of working with the White House to subvert the will of voters. “When the barbarians were at the gate you were happy to let them in,” he said.

Tactical alliance

The repeated exchanges between the two candidates over the events leading up to Jan. 6 reflect the salience of democracy, and the threats to it, in Utah’s race. To Democrats who fret about the antidemocratic strain in Republican politics, this is justification for their tactical alliance with Mr. McMullin, an anti-abortion conservative and foreign policy hawk.

“There’s too much at stake for us to do anything different,” says Ben McAdams, a former Democratic congressman from Utah who supports Mr. McMullin. “He’s not someone we’re going to agree with 100% of the time. But he’s got integrity.”

Mr. McAdams said he expected a strong turnout at the polls. “I think Utah Democrats and moderate Republicans have always felt that our votes don’t matter,” he says. “People have gotten really excited and rallied behind Evan McMullin.”

Cole Adley is among them. He lives in Park City and runs a horse farm, but his family is in Alpine so he joined them for an afternoon of trick-or-treating. He leans left, but is happy to elect a conservative like Mr. McMullin to Congress, given Utah’s choices. “As long as we aim left, we’re doing OK,” he says.

At the playground, Ashton Lin watched his two children go down a slide. He’s a Mormon who grew up in Asia before moving to the U.S., which he says gives him a different perspective on politics. He jokes that he and his wife, who’s South Korean, are the “one percent” Asian in their census tract.

A Republican voter, he’s also open to the idea of an independent representing Utah. “I think it meets the new needs of our generation,” he says. But it depends on the candidate, and he may swing back to Mr. Lee. “I’m just looking for rational thought,” he says. 

Mikhail Klimentyev/Sputnik/AP

Russian President Vladimir Putin (center) speaks to a soldier at a military training center in Ryazan region, Russia, Oct. 20, 2022. Mr. Putin has said that the partial mobilization of the Russian military that he announced in September has been characterized at times by "stupidity."

Under Russia’s Constitution, men have the right to seek alternative service if their health or personal beliefs preclude being drafted into the army. Though this right is still almost entirely theoretical, for years, the Movement of Conscientious Objectors has been providing advice and legal assistance to help those who seek to exercise it.

Lately, it’s been very busy.

The self-described “refusenik” movement has been overwhelmed by appeals from men of many ages desperate to avoid the mass mobilization announced by President Vladimir Putin in September, and since then carried out by many regional governments with an indiscriminate zeal that even Mr. Putin has denounced as “stupidity.”

“All the legal selection criteria have been ignored, and that’s a violation of federal law,” says Vadim, a spokesperson for the movement, who declined to give his family name. “We have reports of people being grabbed on the streets who have obvious health problems, of students being drafted even though they should be exempt, of manhunts in city transport with the help of police.”

Even supporters of the war in Ukraine, now in its ninth month, admit that the botched mobilization has radically altered social moods and aroused deep anxieties among a population that had previously been largely complacent about the conflict raging to the south.

But despite the well-documented reports about serious violations of law and procedure, the now-concluded wave of mobilization has probably achieved its main goals. Most of those drafted are men with past military experience who, officials insist, are being adequately equipped and given additional training. That will enable Russia to at least double its military forces in Ukraine by the end of the year.

“A lot of chaos”

Russian Defense Minister Sergei Shoigu announced Friday that the campaign has ended for now, having met its goal of mobilizing 300,000 reservists. He said that 82,000 of the new recruits are already in the combat zone, and the rest are undergoing training.

Though hundreds of thousands of military-aged men fled the country in recent weeks to avoid being drafted, many others have voluntarily turned up at recruitment centers and – with little visible enthusiasm, even in state TV reportage – accepted what is officially being presented as a patriotic call to duty. Even Vadim agrees that some of the bureaucratic excesses have been corrected, and many of those improperly conscripted were later released.

Though public acceptance of the war has been tested, and attitudes toward it are visibly changing, an initial wave of protests quickly petered out and has been replaced by what looks like widespread social resignation to the idea of more military escalation.

“I had many friends who left the country, and I myself had a lot of anxiety even though I’m not supposed to be drafted. Our president said that those who haven’t done military service shouldn’t be drafted,” says Nikita Lyakhovetskiy, a Moscow-area liberal activist who obtained a legal exemption from service on health grounds when he turned 18. “I understand how they feel, but they are losing their places in this country, their jobs, their studies.

“All my documents are in order, so perhaps I feel calmer than some people of my age. But I don’t believe you should run away, take rash decisions, and I haven’t. ... I have another friend who is doing his service voluntarily. He says he’s proud to defend his country and do his duty.”

Mikhail Metzel/Sputnik/AP

Russian President Vladimir Putin (right) listens to Defense Minister Sergei Shoigu during their meeting at the Novo-Ogaryovo residence outside Moscow, Oct. 28, 2022. Mr. Shoigu announced the completion of partial mobilization during the meeting, though some speculate that there may be additional rounds to come.

Sergei Markov, a former Kremlin adviser and strong supporter of the war, agrees that there has been “a lot of chaos” in the course of the mobilization campaign. But, he argues, the hastily conceived call-up was based on a system that hadn’t been tested in over 40 years. It used often outdated and inaccurate lists of draftees, he says, and the sheer incoherence of the process led to a lot of unnecessary social turmoil.

“The government wasn’t prepared for this, and we knew there would be lots of mistakes,” he says. “Putin has ordered the creation of a digitized system, with accurate data, so these problems will not repeat in future mobilizations. Even the Russian media writes about all the people who were improperly served draft notices, but nobody mentions that most of the ineligible men were subsequently released after their cases were clarified. Complaints about training, and lack of the best equipment, are well grounded.

“On the other hand, a lot of old training centers were closed down after the end of the Soviet Union. They are derelict, and now they are being restored. I’ve been part of a group collecting equipment to donate to soldiers, because the army gives them only basic kit. If families want their men to have better things, they buy it for them. I am told that this is not uncommon in many armies,” Mr. Markov says.

“It’s true that at least 200,000 men left the country, including some relatives of mine,” he adds. “It seems that some people consider themselves to be citizens of the world, and not Russians first. But even Putin, when he was asked, refused to condemn them. We hope that some of them will return in time.”

Sarah Lindemann-Komarova, an American who has lived in Siberia for almost three decades, has described a late October send-off for local draftees in the remote Altai Republic, near Mongolia, where, by contrast, quite a few draft dodgers have taken refuge. She notes a grim mood, with distraught mothers, tears, and frightened faces, but also a sense of determination among the men boarding military buses.

“I think there is both pride and duty that is there,” she says. “No one likes this war, but they believe in duty.”

A souring of the public mood

There seems little doubt that Mr. Putin’s Sept. 21 announcement of the sudden and almost unprecedented mobilization of reserves triggered a tsunami of public angst. An early October poll reported in the business daily Vedomosti found that 64% of Russians supported the mobilization, while 31% opposed it. But among young people ages 18-26, over half opposed it.

Other sociological data suggests spiking levels of public fear, apprehension, and depression. A mid-October survey by the independent Levada Center found that the percentage of people who report being in a “good mood” fell from 15% in July to 7% after the mobilization announcement, while those whose main feelings are “tension and irritation” leaped from 17% to 32% in the same period. “There has never been such a sharp deterioration in public sentiment in the entire period of [our] observations,” the agency noted.

The state-funded Public Opinion Foundation reported an all-time peak of 70% in the share of Russians who say they feel “anxious,” in the weeks following the announcement. And Tass reported that in the first nine months of 2022, spending on antidepressants increased by 70% and sedatives by 56%.

A little-noticed aspect of this mobilization is the enormous increase in national security spending, by around half, in the upcoming Russian government budget. It’s not clear how all the new funds will be spent, but experts say they will probably be used to create new jobs to offset unemployment in other areas. Most of the men being called up in the current mobilization are to be paid at the significantly higher rate of contract soldiers, not that of regular conscripts. That will mean an average of around $3,000 monthly, or several times Russia’s median income.

Ukrainian sociologist Volodymyr Ishchenko argued in a commentary for Al Jazeera that Mr. Putin could be building a permanent war economy, one that redistributes wealth on a large scale – particularly as many of the mobilized men come from poorer regions – and creates its own constituency for more war.

“Looking at all these developments, we see something like military Keynesianism taking shape in Russia. Millions of Russians who are either mobilized to fight in Ukraine, employed in reconstruction or in the military industry, or participating in the suppression of unrest in the occupied territories and at home, or are family members, have turned into direct beneficiaries of the war,” he writes.

Mr. Lyakhovetskiy says the mobilization came as a shock, but people will probably get used to it.

“My generation was born after all the major crises, and we grew up feeling more European, more progressive,” he says. “No one expected this to happen. But in Russian history it seems that every generation has to go through something. So maybe this is our trial.”

Karen Norris/Staff

This is one of three winning entries in a teen essay contest for Americans, Israelis, and Palestinians that was sponsored by Heart of a Nation. The essay prompt was “What do you most want to improve about your own society and how?” Winners were chosen by the organization; the Monitor supported this cross-cultural program by agreeing to publish the winners’ essays. Views are those of the writer, who is from Austin, Texas.

More than 4 billion people live in urban environments globally. This is projected to increase to nearly 7 billion by the middle of the century. Not only are cities detrimental to the environment, but also they pose serious health risks. If urban spaces are necessary for the projected increase in population, we need sustainable solutions to these problems. This is where urban greening steps in. Urban greening is the incorporation of natural infrastructure into urban environments – such as green pedestrian and bicycle trail systems, urban street canopies, green roofing, living walls, community gardens, and natural stormwater features.

Green spaces are proven to lower stress and anxiety. These are major causes of physical and mental health problems. Across Europe, approximately 1 in every 15 deaths is associated with a lack of physical activity. Providing access to parks and gardens can mitigate the health problems associated with not getting enough exercise.

According to the World Health Organization, approximately 3.7 million deaths per year are caused by exposure to poor air quality. This is created by cars and industrial emissions. Taking cars off the road and limiting emissions should be a priority. However, in the short term, trees, bushes, and living walls can clean the air of pollutants. In addition to filtering carbon dioxide through carbon sequestration, cleaning the air of pollutants increases the quality of life in our cities.

Urban environments are typically around 1 to 2 degrees Celsius hotter (1.8 to 3.6 degrees Fahrenheit) than surrounding landscapes. This can increase the likelihood of heat-related injuries. Urban areas integrated with natural infrastructure average around 1 degree Celsius cooler than their traditional counterparts. Rainwater collection systems also pose an issue; they can be easily overwhelmed when heavy rain occurs over a long period. When this happens, flooding ensues, which causes damage to property and people. It also delivers harmful pollutants from roads to local environments. Instead of these collection systems, we should invest in natural stormwater infrastructure such as filtration marshes and watersheds that can filter impurities. A study done in New York City found a new water filtration plant costs $8 billion to $10 billion, while watershed conservation costs $1.5 billion. Prioritizing natural infrastructure cuts down on expenses, damages, and loss of life from water-related incidents.

Urban environments can help bring back local ecosystems. By using regional plants in roundabouts, roadsides, and green roofs, cities can be as biodiverse as their surrounding countrysides. If the correct plants are used, cities can provide food for declining bee and butterfly species, which in turn will have massive environmental benefits.

Our choices today will have huge impacts on generations to come. Green urban spaces are not only more economically and environmentally sound, but healthier for the human experience.

Asher, from Austin, Texas, is a home-schooled teen who has traveled full time in an RV his whole life. He enjoys graphic design, filmmaking, and photography, and is committed to making the world sustainable.

To read other Heart of a Nation Teen Essay Competition winners, visit Teens Share Solutions to Global Issues.

She swings and she’s off. At a ballpark outside Denver, nonagenarian Magdalena McCloskey sprints toward first base.  

“The more I ask of my body, the more it gives,” says the slugger in an orange beanie. 

“Maggie,” as she’s known on the field, is a longtime member of the Colorado Peaches. The softball club welcomes women players from their 50s through 90s, though the number that counts is the one on their back. That’s because the Peaches find joy – together as teammates – in the later innings of life. 

“We all think we’re in middle school,” says 70-something Midge Kral in her green and white uniform. “We don’t think about age – we don’t. You just think about how wonderful you are.”  

In competitions, the women split up according to age categories, but they practice together. On this final Tuesday of the month, they’re scrimmaging. Typically, players are divided into Turnovers vs. Schnapps, but today for the last game of the season, held at a park in Lakewood, Colorado, it’s the Tricks vs. Treats in honor of Halloween. Before warmup, Ms. McCloskey helps decorate a dugout with fake cobwebs. 

“Is this too much?” asks practice coach Suzy Ando in a freakish, baby-like mask. A teammate giggles. 

Sarah Matusek/The Christian Science Monitor

Magdalena McCloskey, a Colorado Peach in her 90s, is up at bat at Addenbrooke Park in Lakewood, Colorado, Oct. 25, 2022. “The more I ask of my body, the more it gives,” she says.

Joy is the point. The Peaches cheer as teammates round the bases and send the neon yellow ball arcing toward the clouds. They also call out encouragement when a swing is botched.

“YEAH, baby, GO! Yeah! Yeah!” yells Ms. Kral, a former school librarian, to a Tricks teammate up at bat. 

Many older U.S. adults are, of course, swimming, cycling, pickleballing their way through retirement – and many compete. The National Senior Games Association reports that this year saw the second largest turnout for its National Senior Games with just over 12,000 athletes. Were it not for the pandemic, the 2022 games, which were delayed a year, could have been record setting, says NSGA spokesperson Del Moon.

“I can say from surveys and direct interviews with athletes that their passion for athletics was increased if anything,” writes Mr. Moon in an email. “They were angry and frustrated that tracks and pools and gyms were closed and most could not wait to ‘get back into the game.’”

Initiated by former physical education teacher Chloe Childers, the Peaches formed and began competing nationally in the ’90s – and won medals. This month, the oldest players received an honorary gold medal at the Huntsman World Senior Games in Utah for creating its first 79+ age bracket in women’s softball. (With no other teams old enough to challenge them, the Peaches ended up competing against younger players – and won one out of five games.)

Sarah Matusek/The Christian Science Monitor

Val Robinson (center) joins in a pre-game cheer at Addenbrooke Park in Lakewood, Colorado, Oct. 25, 2022. The team welcomes women in their 50s through 90s.

“We’ve always had people from other states ask if they could join our team, because we always had so much fun,” says Ms. Childers by phone from her home in Greeley, Colorado. 

She’s among Peaches who graduated college before Title IX became law in 1972 to correct sex discrimination in schools. They’ve made up for lost time.

And why name the team after fruit?

“We’ve got the best peaches in the whole country!” she laughs.

Not even the pandemic could foul their plans – they simply practiced in masks. The group is roughly 35 to 45 women (some of whom live in other states). Membership has evolved over time, and the group is in the process of restructuring.

Ms. Childers, who used to play center field “because I was the fastest runner,” has retired her glove. But daughter Christy Childers says her mom still rules at table tennis with a killer backhand.

Sarah Matusek/The Christian Science Monitor

Fans watch the last scrimmage of the Colorado Peaches season in Lakewood, Colorado, Oct. 25, 2022.

At the Tuesday game, fans behind the chain-link fence include some from Hilltop Reserve Senior Living Community in Denver, here for fellow resident Barb Johnson. She’s a recent recruit in her 80s known on the field as “Mom.” Nicknames are one expression of the togetherness that keeps the Peaches coming back – beyond the pursuit of mastering pop fly balls.

Take Dora Haynes, who joined this spring. Since moving to Colorado from Texas five years ago to be near her grandson, “I guess I’ve kind of felt a little isolated,” she says. “I’ve been learning how to be a grandparent for those five years, and kind of put myself on the back burner. So this definitely brought me out.”

Husband Ed Haynes has witnessed her transformation from his bleacher seat.

“Every week she looks forward to getting with these ladies,” he says. “Now she’s got a big family.”

The camaraderie has also moved Laura Clemons, who lost her husband in 2018. “This gives me an out to, you know, not think about that,” says the athlete. 

Sarah Matusek/The Christian Science Monitor

Midge Kral high-fives teammates after the last scrimmage of their Colorado Peaches season, Oct. 25, 2022. "We don't think about age – we don't. You just think about how wonderful you are," she says.

For others, participation is a personal triumph.

“I went through cancer, and they were still here when I came back. I didn’t know if I could crawl out of my home, but I have, and this team’s meant everything to me,” says Sue Stantejsky. Here she’s called “Red Sue,” because she used to have red hair.

In the end, her team, the Tricks, beat the Treats 2-0. All players high-five in a show of good sportswomanship. Then they pass around print editions of the Greeley Tribune, which recently featured the group, and buckets of Halloween candy. Ms. Kral trades her baseball cap for a headband of cat ears. 

How will she spend the offseason? 

Winter conditioning, says Ms. Kral. So she can come back and hit it “out of the park.” 

Reuters

State workers transport electronic ballot boxes to voting stations in Manaus, Brazil, Oct. 29.

At a time of concern about a global erosion of the rule of law, some of the world’s youngest democracies are offering evidence that the ideal of government by the people is both resilient and enduring. The latest example is Brazil, where a tense presidential election concluded Oct. 30 in a peaceful vote for change.

The result defied predictions of political violence. It showed that, even in the most deeply divided societies, credible democratic institutions provide a bulwark against the destabilizing effects of disinformation.

“If there is anything Brazilians should appreciate tonight, it is the efficiency and reliability of their voting system,” Valentina Sader of  the Atlantic Council wrote after the vote. “It allowed for confidence in the results being released within hours of voting sites closing, effectively constraining any credible questioning of the result.”

The election pitted the hard-right incumbent president, Jair Bolsonaro, against Luiz Inácio Lula da Silva, a socialist former president. Both are controversial. Mr. Bolsonaro’s critics decry his harsh security tactics, dismissal of the pandemic, and policies that accelerated deforestation of the Amazon rainforest. Meanwhile Lula, as he is popularly known, was convicted and imprisoned for corruption (the charges were vacated by Brazil’s Supreme Court in April 2021, but he was not exonerated). Voters on both sides expressed a shared desire for integrity in their leaders. For months leading up to the election, which started with a first round on Oct. 2, Mr. Bolsonaro predicted widespread ballot fraud, without evidence, and vowed not to accept defeat. In the end, Lula won by 1.8 percentage points. Notably, although Mr. Bolsonaro had yet to concede by midday Oct. 31, his top allies in Congress accepted the outcome without hesitation.

The campaign saw an uptick in violence from 2018, the last presidential election year. One source of mistrust was widespread disinformation and wild accusations by the campaigns shared on social media. The Superior Electoral Court, a panel of judges that oversees Brazil’s elections, reported a 1,671% increase in complaints about false posts and videos compared with municipal elections two years ago.

Election officials deployed several measures to counter that trend. In July, they forged a pact with social media platforms to moderate false content. When that did not work, they imposed their own measures to block the spread of information that they found demonstrably untrue. They took other measures, too, including an “integrity test” of voting machines across the country on election day morning. Those trials measured electronic and paper test ballots for accuracy.

Ahead of the first round of balloting four weeks ago, Justice Edson Fachin, a member of the electoral court, said, “I have the unshakable certainty that democracy bends, but does not bend or break with fake news.”

In Brazil’s elections, much of the world saw the future of the Amazon at stake. But the peaceful, transparent vote provides a lesson for countries striving to preserve the integrity of their own ballots.