Jose Luis Magana/AP

House Speaker Mike Johnson of Louisiana, flanked by the Republican conference, speaks during a news conference at the Capitol in Washington, Oct. 25, 2023.

To many observers, Rep. Mike Johnson’s election as speaker of the House brings the Republican Party one step closer to a “full MAGA” takeover – that is, more fully aligned with former and possibly future President Donald Trump.

Speaker Johnson’s conservative record, centered in his deep Southern Baptist faith, puts him squarely within the party’s dominant wing. But it is the Louisianian’s staunch support of former President Trump, including organizing an amicus brief to the Supreme Court challenging the 2020 election results in four states, that really earned Mr. Johnson his “Make America Great Again” credentials.

Indeed, both Mr. Trump and GOP flamethrower Matt Gaetz, the Florida congressman who triggered the vote that ousted then-Speaker Kevin McCarthy, instantly dubbed the new speaker “MAGA Mike.”

But the narrative around Mr. Johnson’s sudden rise from obscurity may not be so simple. Don’t discount the sheer exhaustion that had set in after three other candidates for speaker went down in flames, political analysts say. Mr. Johnson’s congenial manner and lack of enemies were also key to his success, with all Republicans present voting for him – including the 18 members from districts that had voted for Joe Biden in 2020.

Perhaps most important, however, is that Mr. Johnson’s election reflects trends within the Republican Party that long predate the rise of Mr. Trump and the MAGA movement.

“[Mr. Johnson] represents the culmination of the revolt against the old Republican establishment that began with the tea party in 2009,” says William Galston, a senior fellow in governance studies at the Brookings Institution and former domestic policy adviser in the Clinton White House. 

The tea party movement, focused on lower taxes and smaller government, fueled big Republican gains in the House in the 2010 midterms. And, Mr. Galston says, it “signaled the fact that the grassroots of the Republican Party were not satisfied with what they were being offered by the Republican leadership.”

Mr. Trump tapped into that same rebellious, anti-establishment ethos on his way to the presidency. Recent Republican House speakers – before, during, and after Mr. Trump’s term – have all grappled with the party’s disparate factions, some calling it quits in exasperation or, as with the ideologically flexible Mr. McCarthy, losing the speakership at the hands of far-right colleagues.

Jose Luis Magana/AP

A U.S. Capitol police officer guards the entrance of the House speaker's office with the newly installed nameplate of the Speaker of the House Mike Johnson, at the Capitol, Oct. 25, 2023.

New speaker mirrors GOP 

Which brings us back to Mr. Johnson.

“The Republican Party has been a conservative party and a rural party and a Christian-right party to some extent for quite some time,” says Henry Olsen, a senior fellow at the conservative Ethics and Public Policy Center. “Johnson’s elevation reflects that.”

Mr. Johnson’s MAGA credentials embody how the party has evolved to reflect its base, Mr. Olsen says. “But I don’t think this event” – Mr. Johnson’s election as speaker – “proves it’s Trump’s party.”

Doug Heye, former spokesperson for the Republican National Committee, gives no credit to Mr. Trump for Mr. Johnson’s election as House speaker.

“He endorsed him when it was clear he was gonna win,” Mr. Heye says. “Trump does that a lot.”

Mr. Trump also has a history of backing the wrong horse. Mr. Olsen notes past examples of Trump-endorsed candidates losing, whether in House or Senate primaries or in the just-concluded race for speaker. The former president had endorsed Rep. Jim Jordan, the firebrand Republican from Ohio – a bid that failed on three successive ballots, with GOP opposition rising on each subsequent vote, before he finally dropped out.

Still, even if Mr. Trump can’t dictate the House speakership or act as a puppet master – a skill set he may not possess – he still dominates the party like no one else. He is the overwhelming front-runner for the GOP nomination for president in 2024.

At the same time, the MAGA label has become a convenient shorthand for political players across the spectrum. Liberals want to tar Mr. Johnson as a Trumpist. And Mr. Trump and his allies want to own Mr. Johnson’s victory and make sure he doesn’t stray outside the MAGA fold in dealings with Republicans, House Democrats, and President Biden.

As speaker, Mr. Johnson operates under the same razor-thin margin of control as did Mr. McCarthy and the same “motion to vacate” rule that allows any single member to call for a vote to remove the speaker. On Monday, Ohio GOP Rep. Max Miller introduced a resolution calling for a change to that rule.

Mr. Johnson is already being tested – no honeymoon for this speaker – with limited congressional leadership experience. He’s just in his fourth two-year term, and the highest he rose in leadership before now was as the GOP conference vice chair, the seventh-ranking leader in the party.

David Becker/AP

Speaker of the House Mike Johnson, Republican of Louisiana, speaks at an annual leadership meeting of the Republican Jewish Coalition in Las Vegas, Oct. 28, 2023.

Following the MAGA playbook 

So far, the new speaker seems to be playing it safe. He’s following the MAGA playbook, separating aid to Israel (which MAGA wants) from aid to Ukraine (which MAGA doesn’t want) in a $105 billion supplemental funding bill.

Mr. Johnson’s big test will come by Nov. 17, when congressional funding of the federal government runs out. If there’s a shutdown, and the public blames Republicans, that could harm the party’s chances of retaking the presidency in 2024.

Mid-November is also when the new speaker’s personal skills could become crucial. The Senate minority leader, Republican Mitch McConnell of Kentucky, hails from the party’s old establishment wing, and if he and Mr. Johnson can find a way to work together, that could go a long way toward helping the GOP set a reputation for effective governance.

Mr. Johnson’s skills at bipartisan negotiation could prove equally crucial. One day after his election as speaker, he attended a White House meeting with Mr. Biden on aid to both Israel and Ukraine. The new speaker’s decision to back separate legislation for funding of American allies in both wars, including spending offsets for funding of Israel’s battle against Hamas, demonstrates his challenge in maintaining his MAGA credentials.

But above all else, Mr. Johnson’s mild-mannered personality could be key if he is to succeed as House speaker.

“Temperament matters,” says Mr. Heye. The battle for speaker “was a long, drawn-out, stupid process, but ultimately, somebody emerged who was pretty representative of the House Republican conference.”

Doctors working 21 hours a day, journalists doubling up as rescue teams, taxis serving as wartime ambulances – Gaza professionals who refuse to quit in the face of conflict have become lifelines for residents of the besieged strip.

As Gaza residents face an Israeli military offensive in which officials say 8,500 people, including more than 3,450 children, have been killed, these professionals say their duty to provide services to their community outweighs the increasing risk to their own lives – even as they suffer personal losses.

And in the eyes of many, these service providers are becoming local heroes, even, perhaps, the closest thing Gaza civilians have to a government.

Since Gaza’s Hamas rulers ignited the war with the Oct. 7 attack that killed 1,400 people in Israel, the World Health Organization reported 59 attacks on Gaza’s health care facilities – while health care workers toiled with limited supplies and overwhelming numbers of wounded people.

One of these sleepless doctors is Ahmed Mofeed Mokhalati, a plastic surgeon who in February returned to the Gaza Strip from his adopted home of Ireland to give back to his community.

Now, as head of the burns and plastic surgery department at Al Shifa Hospital in Gaza City, Dr. Mokhalati treats dozens of patients with burns, head trauma, or abdominal wounds daily on three hours of sleep – on good days. He is working in what he describes as a living “nightmare.”

The obstacles, at times, seem insurmountable.

There is a lack of trained staff and electricity – with Dr. Mokhalati and others often performing emergency surgeries guided by mobile phone flashlights. Amid dwindling supplies, the hospital is rationing anesthesia for only the most severe cases.

“Honestly, it is exhausting,” Dr. Mokhalati says in a phone interview between seeing patients. “The number of doctors who have specialized expertise is limited. Therefore, those who remained at the hospital” have to work twice as long.

Doctors’ relatives among the dead

The number of wounded people streaming into the hospital far outnumbers its capacity; officials and staff say Al Shifa is receiving 500 to 1,000 patients per day, despite its 600 beds already being full.

“With the huge influx of casualties, we cannot recognize the huge losses we are witnessing,” he says. Some of his colleagues have discovered relatives among the dead people arriving at the hospital.

Then there is the lack of safety. Seventy health care workers have been killed in Israel’s military campaign, the Health Ministry says.

Israel has warned staff to vacate Al Shifa, where, it says, Hamas has positioned key installations.

Amid the bombing of residential areas, Dr. Mokhalati relocated his wife and children to the hospital and now fears for their safety.

“We as doctors are not safe, and our families are not protected,” he says. “However, there are many people who are in really dire need of our help. I do not want them to lose hope.”

His thoughts often go to his colleague, Dr. Medhat Sedim – “my teacher, brother, and an icon for everyone who wanted to study plastic surgery” – who went home for a nap this month after 10 straight days at the hospital. A few hours later, his body returned in a white shroud; he was killed in his home by a missile strike.

“At the end of the day, we are human. We differ in our levels of endurance. But I feel this is part of my resistance. As long as I have breath, I should work,” he says, shortly before going into another surgery.

Adel Hana/AP

Hospital staff members treat a baby who was born prematurely, at Al Aqsa Martyrs Hospital in Deir al-Balah, Gaza Strip, Oct. 22, 2023.

Journalists, too, have found themselves on the front lines.  

As of Oct. 31, the Committee to Protect Journalists confirmed that 26 Palestinian journalists have been killed covering the war in Gaza; Al Jazeera cites a Health Ministry statement stating that 34 journalists have been killed.

Few have embodied the sense of duty more than Al Jazeera bureau chief Wael al-Dahdouh, who was on air when he learned that an Israeli missile strike killed his wife, son, daughter, and grandson.

They had been sheltering in a residential building in Nuseirat camp, in central Gaza, where he sent them on Oct. 13 after Israel warned civilians to evacuate the impending war zone in the northern part of the strip.

Still wearing a press vest, moments after burying his family, Mr. Dahdouh resumed reporting.

Capturing “true face of war”

The example sticks with photojournalist Ashraf Abu Amra.

Armed only with a camera, a vest, an extra battery, and a bottle of water, he navigates the war zone to capture moments he hopes speak “directly to the soul.”

“This war is totally different from all the coverage I have done in my entire life due to its intensity, fierceness, and scope,” says Mr. Abu Amra, who freelances for several foreign news outlets.  

He has not seen his wife and six children, ages 3 to 14, since the conflict began. His first thoughts and messages when he wakes up in the morning are to them.

He describes his work as a calling. With each click of his camera, he aims to humanize the statistics and challenge what he believes is an apathy that often surrounds distant conflicts.

“I believe that the world needs to see the true face of war, to bear witness to the stories of those affected,” Mr. Abu Amra explains.

But he says he is finding himself more often acting as a first responder, trying to rescue children trapped under rubble with his bare hands, assist wounded people into ambulances. He has helped save some who survived, others who have not.

Often, he plays the role of consoler, giving his camera to children to play with to give them a moment to forget the war and be kids again.

“I strongly believe it is my duty to provide them solace, to offer reassurance that everything will be alright,” Mr. Abu Amra says.

Yet he believes “the world has turned a blind eye.”

“I am shocked the world remains silent even though we have produced many photographs showing the harsh realities,” he says.

Rescue by taxi

With the outbreak of the war, Sobhi Abu al-Hussein’s fleet of four taxi cabs was transformed into rescue vehicles, bringing Palestinians fleeing northern and central Gaza to Rafah in the south where residents have been told they may find safety.

After he stored his own supply of fuel in jerrycans, for several days his taxis have been among the few operating in Gaza.

At a moment’s notice, he has received frantic phone calls to evacuate families – at any price.

At times the veteran driver has packed 13 people in his taxi, luggage atop the roof, and navigated rubble-strewn streets and rocket fire overhead.

The lack of safe areas and safe routes has transformed the way he sees his home.

“I no longer recognize Gaza. It’s a frightening place. There’s no mood for talking or chatting with passengers,” Mr. Abu al-Hussein says. “Even the routes that used to feel quick now seem endless.”

As of Monday, his fuel was gone and his fleet grounded.

Residents are showing their appreciation the few ways they can. Journalists in vests and press badges are ushered to the front of the line at bakeries and at times given free bread. Some are given free dates and other food by supermarkets.

“Journalists and doctors are the unsung heroes of this war,” says Kamel al-Bourdini, who distributes bread for Al Baladi Bakery, one of four bakeries still operating in the strip, and serves journalists first. “They risk their own safety to bring us the truth and provide essential care to those in need. They deserve our deepest gratitude.”

Terry Chea/AP/File

Associated Press reporter Michael Liedtke sits in the back of a Cruise driverless taxi that picked him up in San Francisco, Feb. 15, 2023. California's Department of Motor Vehicles has suspended Cruise's operations in the city, citing safety concerns.

While artificial intelligence promises to transform society in major ways, driverless taxis offer a stark example of the bumpy road the technology faces before it reaches its potential.

In California, for example, a serious collision involving a robotaxi is forcing the state to reevaluate its growing push into driverless technology.

Last week, the California Department of Motor Vehicles suspended the right of Cruise to operate driverless taxis in the state after one of its San Francisco robotaxis hit and dragged a woman some 20 feet on Oct. 2. The state agency accuses the company, a unit of General Motors, of failing to disclose that dragging incident – a charge the company denies. Cruise has since paused all its driverless operations in the United States, it announced, in order to “examine our processes, systems, and tools and reflect on how we can better operate in a way that will earn public trust.”

The irony is that everyone agrees that people triggered the incident, not the robotaxi. But that fact may not be enough to save the company – and perhaps the driverless taxi industry as a whole – from serious reputational harm. It is the latest example of how regulation of young technologies can shape emerging industries and public perceptions in unexpected ways, and gaps in that regulation can prove as hazardous as the technology itself.

It’s a particularly timely lesson as various forms of AI begin to course through the economy and society. 

“This is early days, and it is the Wild West of policy, particularly at the state level,” says Billy Riggs, a University of San Francisco professor who studies transportation innovation. “There’s a perception that somehow the technology isn’t ready. And I would say many times perception can become reality.” 

Increasingly ubiquitous in San Francisco

For months now, San Franciscans have become increasingly familiar with the sight of cabs with rooftops brimming with sensors and laser radar moving about the city with no one at the wheel. Besides Cruise, Waymo (owned by Google parent Alphabet) and Zoox (an Amazon subsidiary) have deployed the technology here, although Zoox still has operators in the driver’s seat, just in case. 

While the public can now use robotaxis in a growing number of cities, such as Austin and Phoenix, San Francisco’s dense population, narrow streets, and hills pose some of the toughest challenges for the technology. The reaction has been mixed.

Terry Chea/AP/File

A Waymo driverless taxi stops on a street in San Francisco for several minutes because the back door was not completely shut, while traffic backs up behind it, Feb. 15, 2023.

“We love Cruise!” says Alyssa Guevara, a junior at the University of San Francisco. During her first trip in January, when driverless cabs were still in the testing phase and rides were free, her robotaxi started to pull around a double-parked car into the opposite lane and stopped. Then a firetruck came toward her, unable to proceed. She and her friend used the car’s internal communication to reach an operator. Within five minutes a Cruise employee entered the car and moved it.

“I wasn’t worried,” says Ms. Guevara. “I honestly felt really safe in a weird way.” Since then she has taken more Cruise rides than she can count, although none since the company started charging for service in August.

A threat to human jobs?

San Francisco cab drivers, by contrast, are wary. New technology, in the form of ride-sharing apps from Lyft and Uber, blindsided their industry nearly a decade ago. And because Lyft and then Uber were able to use their technology to turn anyone into a cab driver without the costs of training or taxi medallions – a regulatory gray area – employment in the taxi industry plummeted.

“When Uber and Lyft came in, it basically meant that an amateur could do a professional’s job,” says Mark Gruberg, co-manager of Green Cab LLC. At its peak in the early 2010s, the tiny driver-owned company had 19 taxis; it now has eight. Many cab drivers, who bought a taxi medallion (a city-issued license) for up to $250,000 before Uber and Lyft took off, have quit, sitting on mountains of debt with medallions that are nearly worthless. Longtime San Francisco cabbie Matthew Sutter still owes $150,000 on his. Mr. Gruberg expects more drivers to retire if the new wave of AI floods in as driverless cabs.

“They don’t wait in taxi lines; they don’t take a break; they don’t stop; they don’t have to go to the bathroom,” says Evelyn Engel, a cab driver and executive board member of the San Francisco Taxi Workers Alliance. “And if they’re not with a passenger, they’ll keep driving because they’ll be mapping and updating software and so forth. ... The Utopian vision is that everybody will take a self-driving car. We can get rid of parking lots at Safeway and parking lots downtown. But the flip side of that is that there won’t just be a rush hour; there’ll be cars constantly on the road, circling the block if nothing else.”

Peter DaSilva/Special to The Christian Science Monitor

Mark Gruberg, co-manager of Green Cab LLC, stands at his taxi yard in San Francisco Sept. 21, 2023. He expects more drivers to retire if the role of self-driving cabs keeps expanding.

Still, the regulation that didn’t protect local cabbies from the rise of Uber and Lyft may still offer them some protection. Many of the nearly worthless medallions still allow traditional taxis to pick up passengers from the airport, which Uber, Lyft, Waymo, and Cruise cannot do. Ditto for transportation for people with disabilities, a franchise the city pays only taxi drivers to provide. 

Instead, it appears the gig workers at Uber and Lyft – those with the least regulatory protection – are most at risk from the technology.

“I hate it,” says one San Francisco Uber driver, who declined to give her name. “The reason I hate them [the driverless cabs] is that they are taking away jobs in the future.” She drives up to 40 hours a week. It is her only employment.

The technology has also irritated a growing number of San Francisco drivers and city workers who have had to deal with a series of problems and delays caused by the robotaxis. The public backlash began in August in the city’s North Beach neighborhood, a day after the California Public Utilities Commission allowed Cruise and Waymo to move from a limited test phase to round-the-clock operation and charging for rides.

Publicized problems

“It happened right there,” says Aaron Peskin, president of the San Francisco Board of Supervisors, pointing to the intersection of Vallejo and Grant streets from his chair outside Caffe Trieste. Ten Cruise taxis inexplicably came to a halt here on Aug. 12, blocking all traffic on both one-way streets and causing a massive traffic jam. Heavy cellphone use during a local musical festival limited the available wireless bandwidth, Cruise says, delaying the company’s remote operators to move the cars out of the way.

Four days later, a Cruise cab plowed through traffic cones and drove into freshly poured concrete. That same month, a Waymo vehicle came to a stop between a fire engine and a car on fire. That forced firefighters to carry their hose around the taxi to fight the blaze.

The fire department alone has logged dozens of incidents in which the driverless cars have interfered with emergency personnel, including running over fire hoses and blocking fire trucks and other emergency vehicles, according to Deputy Fire Chief Darius Luttropp. The city’s fire chief says driverless cabs are not ready for prime time.

The companies point out that such incidents are rare exceptions. In San Francisco and Phoenix, where Waymo is also active, “the Waymo Driver encounters active emergency vehicles approximately once per 100 miles, which equates to over a 100 encounters per day,” the company said in an email. “The vast majority of these often challenging and complex encounters have been without issue.”

Cruise, with the most robotaxis in San Francisco, has come in for the lion’s share of the criticism. After two nonfatal car crashes in mid-August, one involving a fire truck in emergency mode that hit a Cruise cab, the state DMV stepped in. Cruise agreed to halve the number of cabs operating in San Francisco while the department investigated. Now, the department has suspended indefinitely the company’s driverless cars from the state, although Cruise can still test its cars if there’s a safety driver.

This month’s dragging incident represents the biggest challenge yet for Cruise, which has been harboring plans to expand to many other cities.

Peter DaSilva/Special to The Christian Science Monitor

Matt Sutter is a longtime taxi driver who paid $250,000 for a taxi medallion that is now worth pennies on the dollar. He still owes $150,000 on the loan he took out to pay for the medallion in San Francisco.

After the Oct. 2 collision, the company initially was eager to share its video of the incident with reporters, says Brad Templeton, chairman emeritus of the Electronic Frontier Foundation and a self-driving car consultant. He asked for and received the video, which showed a woman crossing an intersection against the light, and then getting hit by a human driver and deflected into the path of Cruise’s robotaxi. The driverless car began braking but couldn’t avoid hitting the woman.

What the partial video did not show was what happened after the collision. The car came to a stop and then moved slowly to the curb, as it was programmed to do, dragging the woman with it. This incident poses two challenging questions for the company: (1) Did it cover up the incident? (2) Are its cars really safer than human drivers, as it claims? 

The company claims it was fully open about the incident with regulators. Cruise’s immediate focus was to prove its car did not trigger the incident and to help police track down the driver who did. (He or she fled the scene). So it shared the video that was immediately available, which only showed the events up to the initial collision, not the dragging incident later.

Cruise says it quickly alerted federal and state regulators, requested a meeting the following day, showed the full video, and answered questions. The National Highway Traffic Safety Administration confirms it got the full video the following day. The state DMV says it did not. In its order last week suspending Cruise’s right to operate driverless taxis in California, the department cited state regulations allowing its actions if the manufacturer “has misrepresented any information related to safety of the autonomous technology of its vehicles.” 

What future for robotaxis?

Unlike certain forms of AI, such as ChatGPT, that try to mimic humans’ common sense, driverless taxis strictly follow a set of rules based upon millions of miles of driving experience. For example, when the robotaxi dragged the pedestrian to the curb, its protocol apparently contained no exception for people caught under the car.

Cruise will be back on the streets of San Francisco, predicts Mr. Sutter, the taxi driver. “There’s so much money invested that they won’t just give up on this,” he says. But “in the end of it all, it’s not going to work. I really think there’s just going to be too much liability involved.”

Statistically speaking, robotaxis may ultimately prove to be safer than human drivers. They don’t speed, or get sleepy or inebriated. And the incidents that do occur, as regrettable as they are, allow the companies to tweak the software so the cars quickly become safer fleetwide.

“These vehicles are never going to be perfect,” says Mr. Templeton, the consultant. “The question that we’ll want to know is: Will the public feel that the serious accidents, which will happen, are a black eye for the whole industry? Or is there something where you say, that’s terrible, but at least it’s happening less often than it is with all the people who are driving?”

“I had a gentleman just break down in tears,” says Frazine Taylor, recounting one of the most memorable moments of her career as a resource librarian, genealogist, and Alabama historian. A participant in one of her workshops had finally located his great-grandmother on the 1870 census record. “He said, ‘She does exist. She did exist,’” Mrs. Taylor recalls with a smile. 

She is sitting at a table at Alabama State University, where she worked for four decades until she retired and where she still helps Black Alabamians recover lost branches of their family trees. Blue-framed glasses perched on her nose, she’s ready to examine records. On her feet are ballet flats perfect for perusing the stacks. Thanks to her efforts, hundreds of African Americans have learned how to research their family history, filling important gaps that white-centric archival practices have left in the historical record.

As a result of the work that has been done by archivists like Mrs. Taylor, and popularized by shows like Henry Louis Gates Jr.’s “Finding Your Roots” on PBS, African American genealogy has been brought to the forefront of academic focus. 

But for many Black families, research comes to an abrupt halt when they hit the 1870 census, known as the genealogy “brick wall.” Prior to this first census after the Civil War, African Americans were considered legal property and rarely listed by name, only by number. That’s where Mrs. Taylor’s keen eye for overlooked clues comes in.

“No matter what corner of the state you go to, particularly for African American research, she is the resource,” says Mark Wilson, secretary of the Alabama Historical Association, who served under Mrs. Taylor when she became the first African American president of the association in late 2019.

DAVE MARTIN/AP/FILE

Mrs. Taylor (center) laughs with actor Chris Chalk during the unveiling of a slave trade historical marker in Montgomery in 2013.

Laying the path 

Mrs. Taylor’s career has ranged from working as the co-head of ready reference for genealogy at the Alabama Department of Archives and History, to teaching colloquia and classes across the state, creating and leading workshops across the United States, providing research for films and TV shows, and leading numerous boards and committees. In 2022, she received the Dorothy Porter Wesley Award, a prestigious national recognition that lauds the efforts of information professionals working to preserve African American history and culture.   

But to Mrs. Taylor, it all stems from the moment her interest in teaching others about genealogy was sparked. She had just started as a ready-reference librarian at the state archive in 1985 after earning her master’s degree. She noticed that Black visitors interested in researching their family trees had to wait until the only Black archivist – the only one interested in researching African American family history – was available.

“People were asking questions [about their families], and I didn’t have the answer,” she says. Tracing African American family history isn’t as simple as searching for a name. It takes training, skill, meticulous research, and knowing where and how to look. Mrs. Taylor points to a volume of published Alabama state records. 

“[The historians] omitted the names of the enslaved people in the wills, the marriage records of Blacks; in other words, [they] overlooked the Black population,” says Mrs. Taylor. While those published records don’t contain evidence of the state’s Black history, they do contain references to wills and diaries of slaveholder families. A close reading of those sources held in the archives can bring new stories to light. For example, if a person knows the name of the enslaver who held an ancestor, the likelihood of finding the first name of some of the people they enslaved increases. Slowly, the dots start to connect.

Mrs. Taylor wanted to make it possible for African Americans to research on their own. So she created a census bibliography and designed checklists for filling in family trees. In 2008, she published “Researching African American Genealogy in Alabama: A Resource Guide.”

To her colleagues, Mrs. Taylor’s gentle and kind approach has had an effect on those who may have been intimidated or hesitant to dive into archival records, transforming the state archives into an institution that serves all of Alabama. 

“Her warmth and graciousness of spirit helped her bring in and bring together and unify people that might have had difficulties before,” says Ed Bridges, former supervisor and director of the Alabama Department of Archives and History. “Frazine was a huge part of making a major institutional change in terms of extending service to part of the population of Alabama that hadn’t been completely served,” he adds.

In high demand

And it’s not just Alabamians who have benefited from her guidance. Mrs. Taylor recalls the first time she was invited to speak outside of the state, in Chicago. Tony Burroughs, a leading genealogist in African American history, had contacted her because many Northern Black families were curious about their Southern roots. The response was enormous. 

“They had about 200 to 300 people there,” recalls Mrs. Taylor. From there she developed an African American course for the Institute of Genealogy and Historical Research at Samford University and organized Alabama State University’s first genealogy colloquium in 2015. 

“[Her work] has touched the lives of thousands of folks and millions of [TV] viewers all over the world,” says Tara White, assistant professor of African American history at the University of North Carolina Wilmington. She adds that Mrs. Taylor’s book on genealogy is in such demand that it is sometimes on backorder. 

It was at the Alabama State colloquium that amateur genealogist Gary Franklin had a revelation. As he walked down the founders’ hallway of the campus library, he spotted a framed picture of his great-great-grandfather, Alexander H. Curtis. He hadn’t known that Curtis was recognized as a Black founder of the university in 1867. 

Alabama State was searching for descendants of the founders. So Mr. Franklin began to introduce his vast network of cousins to the university’s archivists. To this day, he still reaches out to Mrs. Taylor with research questions. 

“All of that wouldn’t have happened in my own personal genealogical discoveries, certainly not as quickly, if Frazine had not hosted that colloquium at Alabama State,” says Mr. Franklin. “She’s a force to be reckoned with.”

I watched Bollywood’s longest running film, “Dilwale Dulhania Le Jayenge,” or DDLJ as it’s colloquially known, at the very impressionable age of 8. Much like Disney movies were for my Western counterparts, DDLJ was the ultimate romantic fantasy catering to my steeped-in-tradition Indian upbringing. One particular scene that appealed to me and my peers was the depiction of Karwa Chauth, a fast kept by women for their husbands or fiancés so they may live a long and healthy life. In the film, as the female protagonist learns that her beau also kept the fast for her, an entire generation of future wives collectively sighed and swore to continue this unique, if archaic, tradition for the sake of their true love.

The festival of Karwa Chauth is celebrated every year in the month of Kartik (which usually falls in October to November) in the Hindu lunar calendar, on the fourth (or chauth) day of the waning cycle of the moon. Married women, especially in northern India, abstain from eating food and drinking water from sunrise to moonrise and perform ritual prayers, sacrificing their comfort for the safety and longevity of their husbands’ lives. 

It is customary for a fasting woman to view the moon through a sieve before viewing her husband’s face through it. Once she has received the blessings of the moon in this manner, her husband feeds her from the ritual offerings to break the fast.

This year, as I complete a decade of being happily married, I find myself reflecting on the festival and why I continue to celebrate it. My husband and I are practicing Sikhs, and our faith encourages us to shun strict rituals mandated by the Hindu religion. The only exception to this rule is Karwa Chauth, which I have always followed, and in a rare move for an Indian man, so has my husband. 

COURTESY OF NOOR ANAND CHAWLA

Jassa Chawla feeds his wife at moonrise to break the daylong fast of Karwa Chauth atop their rooftop in New Delhi, October 2022.

Unlike most practicing Hindus who fill the day with numerous prayers and ceremonies, we have a relatively quiet and private celebration for each other. I get henna applied on my hands, and my mother gifts me a new outfit to wear each year in traditional bridal colors such as pink, red, or orange. We break our fast at moonrise, and then enjoy a romantic dinner for two at a restaurant. 

I keep the fast, influenced largely by the stoic beauty of the older women I observed in my younger years, as well as the portrayal of this festival in Bollywood films as a celebration of love. My husband’s grandmother, whom he loved like his own mother, followed the tradition throughout her married life. Sadly, she died the year after we got married, just before I was due to keep my first Karwa Chauth fast. So now we keep the fast in her memory. 

Today, I celebrate the ancient holiday against a changing social landscape. Divorces were a largely uncommon phenomenon in Indian society until fairly recently, because of both the social stigma attached to them and the deeply ingrained “stick-to-it-iveness” of arranged marriages. Festivals like Karwa Chauth, which is based on the highly romanticized notion of “love conquers death,” only served to strengthen the belief that marriages must last, whether one is happy in them or not. 

In the last couple of decades, however, the narrative has slowly changed, especially in urban areas. As women become more educated and financially independent, they are beginning to make their own life decisions. Men living in joint-family households under the weight of the expectations of their parents are also beginning to assert themselves. Hence, divorce rates are rising, and festivals like Karwa Chauth are viewed as patriarchal, outdated, and unfair to women. 

Last year, when I posted photos of my Karwa Chauth celebration on social media, I received a lot of criticism. One woman in her late 30s called me out because “starving yourself for someone else is as regressive as it gets.” Another woman shared my photo on her page spurred by the romance she observed in the situation, only to be harshly confronted for endorsing this patriarchal tradition.

Perhaps subconsciously then, the reason I continue to keep the fast is that I believe practices like Karwa Chauth can and do have a place in modern relationships. (Of course, keeping the fast is my personal choice, and in its true spirit, it must be a personal choice for anyone who keeps it.)

It’s hard to justify the logic of depriving myself for a day to prolong the life of my husband. Yet, there is such beauty in tradition and in the idea of expressing my love to the world – not just as a young person in the first flush of love, but also as a mature adult whose love has taken on many layers and meanings. That is the love that I believe needs to be celebrated with Karwa Chauth: a steadfast, all-encompassing feeling of belonging to one another. 

AP

Residents n Zhengzhou city in central China's Henan province mourn for the late former Chinese Premier Li Keqiang, Oct. 29.

In China, where accurate polling is rare, a peephole just opened into what qualities Chinese citizens most admire in a leader, hinting at a China ruled differently someday.

In both public displays of mourning and on social media, people have been paying tribute to a former premier, Li Keqiang, who died Friday just a year after being sidelined by Communist Party leader Xi Jinping.

Mr. Li’s popularity can be measured by the fact that a hashtag about him on Weibo, China’s second-largest social media platform, garnered more than 1 billion views in just a few hours after his passing. In contrast, China’s official media had his death as a distant item, even though he was once second in power. Security has also been tight to prevent mass gatherings, while censors worked hard to prevent “overly effusive” comments about Mr. Li and indirect criticism of Mr. Xi’s autocratic rule.

As head of the State Council, China’s Cabinet, for a decade, Mr. Li was widely seen as honest about China’s problems, compassionate toward people in crisis, and open to the innovations of private entrepreneurs. “He stood for allowing more space for societal and market forces,” Wen-Ti Sung, a fellow at the Atlantic Council Global China Hub, told the Financial Times.

Among the online tributes, many cited his comments after becoming premier in 2013: “We will be loyal to the constitution, faithful to the people, and take the people’s wishes as the direction of our governance.” He also said, “Reforming is about curbing government power.”

Videos have been posted of Mr. Li’s visits to the scenes of disasters, even one showing him standing in deep mud to console people. His candor was remembered in comments he made in 2020 when he said China may be the world’s second-largest economy but some 600 million of its people still live on a monthly income of $150.

He also bemoaned dishonesty in China’s official statistics, even telling an American diplomat an alternative way to measure the Chinese economy (railway cargo volume, electricity consumption, and bank loans). That index is still widely used.

Born of humble origins but with degrees in law and economics from a prestigious university, he was an admired technocrat. Yet the tributes to him paint him as “the people’s premier.” Securing the party’s hold on power was not his top priority. In fact, he saw economic growth not in numerical terms but as bringing opportunities for people to “pursue excellence and moral integrity,” as he once said.

“Life is invaluable,” meaning immeasurable, according to Mr. Li. And by the praise now being given to him, his life could be a model for a future China.