A somber procession of uniformed soldiers carried the casket of the young paratrooper captain, Roy Beit Yaakov, to his final resting place in Jerusalem’s Mount Herzl military cemetery, as a rabbi read out the prayers for the dead.

The officer, along with four other soldiers, was killed May 15 in a friendly-fire incident while fighting in the northern Gaza Strip, emphasizing once again the steep cost Israeli families are paying for the war against Hamas.

What was especially jarring – to the Israeli public and to Israel Defense Forces commanders – was that these soldiers died in an area that had already been largely cleared of Hamas operatives after months of fierce fighting in the north and center of the strip.

But as the IDF has turned its focus to the south, most recently Rafah, billed as Hamas’ last major stronghold, fighters from the militant group have resurfaced in areas from which the army has withdrawn. This is forcing Israeli generals to send soldiers back into these zones for a second and third time, accentuating frustration over the growing number of military deaths and raising questions about the effectiveness of what critics say is an incomplete strategy.

Two key members of Israel’s war Cabinet, both retired generals, have now vented these frustrations in public in a direct challenge to Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu.

Israel’s prosecution of the war, in which more than 35,000 Palestinians have been killed, is coming under intensified international scrutiny. On Monday, the International Criminal Court’s chief prosecutor said he was seeking arrest warrants against leaders of both Hamas and Israel.

But the dramatic showdown in Israel is laying bare what analysts say is a growing internal rift – not only among politicians but also between military leaders and the hard-right government – over the lack of a political vision for what should happen after the war.   

Ronen Zvulun/Reuters

Israeli Defense Minister Yoav Gallant arrives for a meeting of his Likud party faction at the Knesset, Israel's parliament, in Jerusalem, May 20, 2024.

Defense Minister Yoav Gallant, a member of Mr. Netanyahu’s Likud party, was the first to speak out. Because Mr. Netanyahu is refusing even to discuss a postwar vision, let alone set one out, he said Wednesday, the default will be either continued Hamas rule in Gaza or a de facto Israeli reoccupation of the enclave, with military and civilian governance. That, Mr. Gallant said, would deplete Israel’s military and economic resources and divert its attention from more pressing hostile arenas.

Then, on Saturday night, war Cabinet minister Benny Gantz, a former military chief of staff, called on Mr. Netanyahu to commit to a six-point day-after plan by June 8, or his centrist party would quit the emergency government.

Both Mr. Gallant and Mr. Gantz implied that the prime minister’s war decisions were weighed by personal political survival, and not by national security considerations.

Voicing military’s concerns

The army thinks Israeli politicians have “undermined the military effort and squandered military achievements,” says Professor Chuck Freilich, a senior researcher at The Institute for National Security Studies at Tel Aviv University.

With his address, Defense Minister Gallant “was expressing his own frustration and the IDF’s frustration,” Professor Freilich says.

Mr. Gallant said that back in October, when the defense establishment presented the Cabinet with its war plan, it stated “that it will be necessary to destroy Hamas battalions, while simultaneously working to establish a local, non-hostile Palestinian governing alternative.”

“Since October, I have been raising this issue consistently in the Cabinet and have received no response,” he said.

In his own comments, Mr. Gantz criticized the direction that “a small minority” of far-right ministers to whom Mr. Netanyahu is politically beholden were taking the country. “Crucial decisions were not made,” he said. “The acts of leadership needed to guarantee victory were not made.”

Tsafrir Abayov/AP/File

Benny Gantz, a former military chief of staff, speaks at a political event in Ramat Gan, Israel, Aug. 14, 2022. Mr. Gantz, a centrist member of Israel’s three-member war Cabinet, has threatened to resign from the Netanyahu-led government if it doesn't adopt a new plan for the war in Gaza by June 8.

In the resulting political storm, the far-right ministers clamored for Mr. Gallant’s dismissal and Mr. Netanyahu reacted with disdain, with his office saying Mr. Gantz’s demands would mean “an end to the war and defeat for Israel.”

The prime minister opposes “bringing the Palestinian Authority into Gaza, and establishing a Palestinian state that will inevitably be a terror state,” his office said.

Yet some Israeli analysts, echoing persistent urgings from Biden administration officials that date to the beginning of the war, defended the rebel ministers’ premise: When nations are at war, setting out a political endgame for the army to work within is a key step toward attaining long-term aims.

“You never use only military power to achieve a national goal,” says Amos Yadlin, a former Israeli air force general and a former head of military intelligence. “The military cannot operate without political objectives.”

Netanyahu’s political interests

Professor Freilich, the researcher at The Institute for National Security Studies, says Mr. Netanyahu is shirking from setting out a day-after strategy “because it doesn’t serve his political interest.” Setting out such a plan means “being realistic, agreeing to some compromises on the Palestinian issue, which [Mr. Netanyahu] isn’t willing to do.”

The worry within the IDF is that Mr. Netanyahu is “perpetuating the war for his own political reasons, not for purely military reasons,” Professor Freilich says.

Friction between the military establishment and this Netanyahu government dates back before the war to an attempted overhaul of the Israeli judiciary. Critics said the legislative initiative, seen as an attempt to grant Mr. Netanyahu effective immunity from corruption charges that could land him in prison, would weaken the country’s democratic checks and balances.

Shannon Stapleton/Reuters

An Israeli soldier jumps off a tank near the Israel-Gaza border, May 16, 2024.

Hundreds of thousands joined in a massive protest movement, including army reservists and air force pilots who threatened to refuse duty if the government initiative persisted. Then, too, Mr. Gallant stood up to Mr. Netanyahu on behalf of military commanders concerned that the legislation was endangering state security. He was fired, and then reinstated after a general strike brought the country to a standstill.

There is still strong public support for the war, and the current rift is not yet as bitter, says Professor Freilich. But, he cautions, “it could pick up. It could lead to a real crisis of confidence between the senior military leadership and the political echelon,” especially if losses mount.

From the start of ground operations in Gaza Oct. 27 through May 19, a total of 282 Israeli soldiers have been killed in combat, and 1,745 wounded, according to government data.

U.S. still pushing

Meanwhile, the United States is still making its case to Mr. Netanyahu. After visiting Saudi Arabia, where meetings focused on a “comprehensive vision” for the Middle East, U.S. national security adviser Jake Sullivan met Sunday with the prime minister and reiterated the need “for Israel to connect its military operations to a political strategy,” according to a White House readout.

Yet, say some Netanyahu supporters, the prime minister is less than receptive now to Biden administration appeals and is biding his time until U.S. elections in November.

Amir Avivi, a reservist brigadier general, is chairman and founder of a group of retired Israeli security forces that champions sovereignty over the West Bank and Jordan Valley. He says he has met nine times with Mr. Netanyahu since the start of the war.

Mr. Netanyahu’s view, Brig. Gen. Avivi says, is that Israel should take full military and civilian control of the Gaza Strip for a transitional period, during which time the strip will be de-radicalized and a new leadership formed.

“The prime minister knows that what’s good for Israel is not aligned with what this [U.S.] administration wants. So he doesn’t want to have this discussion now,” he says, adding, “Who knows who will [run] the next administration?”

Jeff Chiu/AP

Alphabet CEO Sundar Pichai speaks at a Google event in Mountain View, California, May 14, 2024.

Some 99,000 times a second, people use a single company’s technology to search the internet. It’s so commonplace that computer users don’t say “search.” They will “Google” – or “Googlear” (Spanish) or “Googul” (Arabic) – a topic. 

Now, however, the dominance of Google and its parent company, Alphabet, is under attack. Legally and technologically, the company that has easily beat back challengers since its founding in 1998, faces perhaps its biggest threat yet. And the outcome may determine how people search for information online.

Alphabet’s immediate challenge is legal. This month, the Justice Department wrapped up its case with a closing argument that Alphabet illegally paid other companies to ensure its Google search engine would be the default option on the iPhone and other smartphones and web browsers. A second antitrust trial about Alphabet’s ad practices looms this fall. 

AI may spur rapid change in search

The longer-term threat is technological. For the better part of a year, analysts have suggested that artificial intelligence will erode Google’s search dominance. But that’s not a foregone conclusion for the hugely profitable $2.2 trillion company.

Still, the twin legal threats put Alphabet in an awkward position. At a time when increased government scrutiny might tempt Google to slow or curb aggressive moves, the rapid development of AI is forcing the company to move fast. To keep up with competitors, management may have to run, not walk, on the eggshells of legal risk.

“There’s an AI arms race,” says Chris Rodgers, founder and CEO of Colorado-based CSP, a company that helps businesses get noticed on the internet. “It is going to drive big changes in search.”

Already, Alphabet has begun rolling out changes. Some searches now include an AI-generated summary that tries to answer a user’s question directly before displaying the more traditional list of links. Far bigger changes are likely, analysts say, making search savvier, more streamlined, and visually and aurally helpful – like carrying around an instant expert on just about everything.

Hear an unfamiliar bird call? Apps already exist to identify birdsong. But in the new world of AI search, you simply ask your smartphone the species and it would automatically call up the app, make the identification, and tell you whether it’s rare for that place and season. Have a leaky faucet? You point the camera at the sink and ask what’s wrong, and the smartphone would deliver step-by-step instructions on how to fix it.

Markus Schreiber/AP/File

OpenAI CEO Sam Altman participates in a panel discussion during the annual meeting of the World Economic Forum in Davos, Switzerland, Jan. 18, 2024.

“Google shows you, like, 10 links – well, like 13 ads and then 10 links – and that’s one way to find information,” said Sam Altman, CEO of OpenAI, on “Lex Fridman Podcast” last month. “Maybe there’s just some much better way to help people find and act on and synthesize information.”

Are AI-generated search results reliable yet?

OpenAI poses one of the most potent challenges to Alphabet’s dominance. The company has been a step ahead of Google ever since it released its chatbot, ChatGPT, late in 2022. Alphabet’s Gemini chatbot went public a year later and faces a number of well-funded competitors from the likes of Amazon, Meta, and others.

The challenge for these companies is that none of their chatbots is accurate enough to provide consistently reliable answers the way a Google search does. Nor do they have anywhere near the search experience or training data that Alphabet has meticulously acquired over nearly three decades. Alphabet’s challenge is that by incorporating AI into search, it may cut into its traditional search business, which last quarter generated more than half the company’s sales.

Nevertheless, Alphabet is forging ahead by pushing Gemini into all its products. At its developer conference this week, it announced it was rolling out AI Overview, a feature that synthesizes even complex questions into a categorized page of simplified answers. In one demo, it displayed four top-rated Pilates studios within a half-hour walk of Boston’s Beacon Hill and a map of the route. In another, it suggested specific remedies from a user’s video of an old-fashioned record player that wasn’t working correctly. 

The technology wasn’t foolproof. Gemini suggested opening the back of a film camera (a no-no that ruins the film by exposing it) as one solution for the film being stuck. But many Wall Street analysts remain upbeat that Google can solve these problems and are raising their profit forecasts for the company, not lowering them. 

Jeff Chiu/AP

A person gets a demonstration of Gemini Advanced at a Google developer conference in Mountain View, California, May 14, 2024.

Google’s decline: possible but not inevitable

“Google has the upper hand” versus OpenAI, Gene Munster, managing partner with tech investment firm Deepwater Asset Management, said in a post on X last week. He pointed to the company’s 25 years of search data to train its AI models, global distribution, and huge infrastructure as big advantages over its competitors.

“So far, I don’t see signs that [the competitors] are really moving the needle,” says Tim Lee, author of the Understanding AI newsletter. 

Google’s legal jeopardy is more pressing. A loss in the current contracting case could mean the company could no longer pay Apple to make Google search the default option on the iPhone – the potential erosion of a huge base of users. A loss in the digital advertising technology case this fall could strike at the heart of that Google search revenue, which is ad-based. (The company did not respond to a request for comment.)

The last time a U.S. company faced such intense antitrust scrutiny – Microsoft in 1998 – the lawsuit distracted management and caused it to curb some of its aggressive behaviors. 

“Google is not out of the woods,” says Shane Greenstein, professor of business administration at Harvard Business School. “There’s a lot of speculation about where the future growth comes from.”

Editor's note: The name of Chris Rodgers' company has been corrected, and the article has been updated with two additional paragraphs about the use of AI for internet search results.

It’s a bright, windy day in early April, and 71 unauthorized migrants are milling about a desolate patch of dirt in the California desert, waiting to turn themselves in to the U.S. Border Patrol. 

They crossed from Mexico, over a mountain where there is no fence. But you won’t hear a word of Spanish from this group. Almost all of them speak Chinese.

They are a trio of jovial young bachelors – a pastry chef, an engineering student, and a hairstylist. They are families with small children, street vendors, wheat farmers. They come from all over China, and their routes vary. Some flew easily via third countries, like Ecuador, that don’t require a visa. Others spent exhausting weeks traveling by plane, boat, and bus, and on foot, through the perilous Darién Gap.

It’s a diverse group, but they have this in common: They are participants in a spike in illegal Chinese migration at the U.S.-Mexico border. In fiscal year 2021, Border Patrol encountered 330 mainland Chinese migrants between official ports of entry on the U.S. side of the border. In 2023, that number soared to 24,050. This year, encounters are on track to reach 60,000. 

Melanie Stetson Freeman/Staff

Two families from Henan province eat food handed out by volunteers by a shelter tent before the Border Patrol picks them up, April 2, 2024, in Jacumba Hot Springs, California. They came through Hong Kong. The girl is 7 years old, and the boy is 6.

“When anything goes from 330 to 60,000, you have to pay attention,” says Muzaffar Chishti, senior fellow at the nonpartisan Migration Policy Institute. 

The influx of Chinese migrants and migrants of many other nationalities complicates the job of the Border Patrol, says agent Angel Moreno, who works in communications in the San Diego Sector.

“Every Border Patrol agent is required to know, speak, and understand the Spanish language, but yeah, Mandarin?” says Mr. Moreno. Field agents now use the Google Translate phone app to communicate along the border, he says, while agents rely on a human translation service at stations and a detention center where they process migrants from more than 150 countries.

Part of a global trend

Indeed, China is not alone in this pattern. It’s part of an influx of unauthorized migrants representing a range of nationalities much more diverse than three years ago – important context given the history of anti-Chinese fearmongering in the United States, says Mr. Chishti. While Latin Americans still made up the majority of the record 2.5 million Customs and Border Protection encounters at the U.S.-Mexico border last year, people from outside Mexico and northern Central America swelled from 12% in 2020 to 51% last year, according to the institute.

In fact, 2023 marks the first time the majority of southern border encounters were with migrants from beyond the United States’ immediate neighborhood of Mexico and northern Central America. India, with its government leaning more nationalist and Hindu, led these far-flung countries with 41,720 encounters. China outnumbered Brazil. And the Border Patrol encountered more than 15,000 Mauritanians, up from zero in 2018. 

The rising diversity stems partly from policy changes. Europe, for instance, is hardening its borders. As a result, Mauritanians – and others – are seeking alternative destinations. The U.S. last year stopped pandemic-era expulsions and shifted to an app process for migrant appointments at ports of entry. As decades roll by without any change to U.S. immigration law, migrants are growing increasingly frustrated with the backlog of yearslong waits for legal entry. 

Melanie Stetson Freeman/Staff

A food wrapper for chicken feet – labeled in Chinese writing – was left on the ground near where Chinese migrants crossed into the U.S. from Mexico, outside Jacumba Hot Springs, California, April 2, 2024.

The shifting kaleidoscope of countries also reflects the central role of social media. Apps like TikTok not only teach dance moves, but also provide migration tutorials. Posts on the apps give explicit instructions – not always accurate – on routes and facilitators. Communication apps like WeChat allow migrants to stay in touch with people moving ahead of them. At the same time, smugglers are becoming more professional.

Chinese migrants interviewed by the Monitor routinely cited costs of about $15,000 (or 100,000 renminbi, the official currency of the People’s Republic of China). That’s considerably less than the $80,000-plus that Chinese migrants paid in the early 2000s and the 2010s for other smuggling routes such as going through Canada, being dropped off in U.S. territories, and traveling in ship containers, says Ken Guest, an anthropology professor at Baruch College and a Chinese migration expert. Competition via the southern border route has now forced prices for other routes down to between $40,000 and $50,000, he says.

“It appears these [southern border] routes have replaced the earlier routes as the routes of choice,” he says.

Push and pull that set Chinese apart

All migrants respond to “push” and “pull” influences – with pushes such as wars, poverty, or oppression, and pulls such as access, safety, jobs, and freedom. But several factors set those from China apart.

Chinese migrants tend to be more educated and have more resources, often arriving off flights and towing roller bags for the last stretch. Observers also cite China’s prolonged COVID-19 lockdowns, the higher number of Chinese asylum approvals compared with those of other nationalities, and an efficient ethnic network in the U.S. that supports their migration.

Melanie Stetson Freeman/Staff

Migrants from China, who have just crossed into the U.S. from Mexico, rest at Moon Camp, set up by volunteers, before being detained and processed by the Border Patrol, in Jacumba Hot Springs, California, April 2, 2024.

In January, another factor drew attention. Former FBI executives wrote to congressional leaders warning about a border invasion of “military aged men” from adversarial countries, including China and Russia, and the House followed up with hearings May 16. Last year, 71% of Chinese migrants entering Ecuador, a major entry point to the U.S., were male, and 55% were between ages 15 and 39, according to the Niskanen Center, a think tank. 

But for espionage, Beijing is more likely to use China’s existing network of diplomats and students, which comprise the largest group of international students in the U.S., counters Mr. Chishti. At the same time, he notes that border officials run migrants through fingerprints, mug shots, and background checks – although, of course, such checks aren’t possible for “getaways” who elude Border  Patrol.

SOURCE:

Office of Homeland Security Statistics

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Jacob Turcotte/Staff

Big push: prolonged pandemic lockdowns

A major motivation to leave China – and opportunity to do so – came in early 2023, after Beijing finally rolled back its tough pandemic constraints on peoples’ lives and the economy. 

“The big factor I would look at is the end of COVID restrictions in China,” says Professor Guest. The lockdowns also made people anxious about long-term prospects there, he says. “People have been looking for ways of diversifying their family income streams. That’s always been why Chinese have sent people out.”

Historically, Chinese migration is usually a collective project, Professor Guest explains. “It’s a family decision that somebody’s going to go and try to get a beachhead someplace else, make some money, send it back. Maybe someone else will come.” 

Mr. Lin, from Fujian province – home to many Chinese expatriates in the U.S. – may exemplify how such forces are at work. Like other Chinese migrants interviewed at the border, he used only his family name. Sitting in the shade of a large tent structure, the 42-year-old said he had been a “freelance” wage worker in China. Unable to make enough money to support his family, he left his two children behind with their mother. He says he’s heading to Flushing, New York, home to a large Chinatown, where he has a relative.

Melanie Stetson Freeman/Staff

Mr. Lin is traveling alone to Flushing, New York. He said that he traveled from Shanghai to Amsterdam to Panama, and spent time walking through the jungle. He finally made it to Tijuana, Mexico, and into the U.S. He left two children behind with his wife.

Mr. Lin’s family connection and beeline to Flushing speaks to a distinct aspect of Chinese migration, says Professor Guest. Ethnic Chinese communities in major urban areas such as New York, San Francisco, and Los Angeles have “elaborate networks” to absorb new migrants and help them pay off debts and access things like jobs and housing.

Strong prospects for asylum

Another “pull” factor – and something smugglers can advertise to prospective clients – is the high rate of approval for Chinese asylum requests. To qualify, applicants must show that they have suffered persecution or fear it due to their race, religion, nationality, social affiliations, or political opinion. 

As of April, U.S. immigration courts granted asylum to nearly 70% of Chinese migrant applicants, compared with 42% for all applicants. 

Melanie Stetson Freeman/Staff

Ms. Qiu is from Fujian province. She came via Vietnam and Thailand. She says she was fined for having a second child and forced to undergo tubal ligation. She left two children behind with her parents.

Anecdotally, Chinese arrivals tell lawyers and nonprofits that they are seeking asylum because China is cracking down on political freedoms, because of increased repression and surveillance, and because people want to improve their quality of life and opportunities, according to the Migration Policy Institute.

But when asked about their lives in China and their reasons for leaving, the 15 Chinese migrants interviewed by the Monitor emphasized the pressures of everyday life and the need to make more money.

Economics or persecution?

“China as a whole is doing well, but our [area] is not so well developed,” says Mr. Yang, who says he just graduated as a pastry chef. He and his two friends are from Fujian province. They flew as tourists first to the mainland city of Kunming, and then out via Hong Kong, Istanbul, Mexico City, and Tijuana, Mexico, where they paid a driver to take them to this unprotected part of the border. It took only 1 1/2 days, explains Mr. Yang cheerfully, chewing a sandwich all the while.

In China, “low-wage people feel a lot of stress. We want to relax,” says his friend, Mr. Zheng, a hairstylist. Someone from behind jumps in to add that they seek “freedom and equality.”

A weary-looking man in a green hoodie, Mr. Fan, from northeast China, is relieved to be in the U.S. after a 60-day journey that started in Thailand and included being robbed along the way. He renovates windows and doors for a living: “If it were good in China, I wouldn’t have come,” he says.

Melanie Stetson Freeman/Staff

Mr. Fan, a Chinese migrant, is from a northeastern Chinese province. He came to the U.S. via Vietnam and Thailand. He says he was fined for having a second child. He left his two children behind in China with family.

The woman to his left pipes up, “Tell it like it is!” – to which he adds that he has also come for the sake of his children, whom he has left at home with his wife and grandparents. Children become a topic of conversation as the woman on his right, Ms. Qiu, mentions that she underwent forced tubal ligation. Both she and Mr. Fan say they were fined for violating China’s one-child policy. U.S. immigration judges have found childbearing restrictions a reason to grant asylum, but China ended that policy in 2016.

It’s not unusual for Chinese migrants to first cite economic opportunity as their reason for leaving, says Kim Luu-Ng, an immigration attorney in Greater Los Angeles. But once she delves deeper, and explores their refusal to return, she finds credible reasons for asylum.

“Most people have no idea that they have a case, because they view persecution as normalcy,” says Ms. Luu-Ng.

She relates the story of a client, a single mother, who explained she could no longer support her young son in China. It took a while before the mother revealed that she had complained about the pandemic lockdowns, Ms. Luu-Ng says. Both mother and son were arrested and detained – once for more than a month and another time for a week – over complaints that they could not leave their building. No one could leave, not to go to work, school, the market, or the doctor, the mother told her.

It wasn’t the lockdown itself that qualifies her, explains Ms. Luu-Ng. It’s the arrests and fear of rearrest.

Here at Jacumba Hot Springs, a worn-looking farmer couple sitting on the hard ground say it took 50 days to reach the U.S. border. The wife has second thoughts. The couple traveled from Hebei province, near Beijing, to Thailand, Turkey, and Ecuador, and then north through the dangerous Darién Gap. They borrowed more than 100,000 renminbi (about $15,000) from friends and relatives to finance the journey, but say they were robbed of cellphones and U.S. dollars near Quito. To continue, they had money wired from back home, where they left their 18-year-old son under the protective wing of grandparents.

“I’m a bit regretful,” says Ms. Wu, the wife, who hopes that an acquaintance in Los Angeles can help them find work. “I never thought it would be this hard.”

A companion who joined them along the way, also a farmer, scratches at the dirt with a stick.

“I have no regrets,” he says.

First of two parts. The second article tells what happens next after Chinese migrants arrive in the U.S.

Zheng-sheng Zhang, a professor of Chinese and a linguist at San Diego State University, provided translation at the border for this story.

In one photo caption the spelling of tubal ligation has been corrected.

Editor's Note: The total number of encounters with undocumented migrants at the southern border last year (2.5 million in the 2023 fiscal year) should have been characterized as the total for U.S. Customs and Border Protection, and the story has been corrected to reflect that.

Jackie Valley/The Christian Science Monitor

Just under 100 children were enrolled at the KinderCare Child Development Center at The Venetian Las Vegas as of mid-April. They’re children of employees in departments as varied as housekeeping and accounting.

They exist in places like an airport, a resort, and a distribution center, tucked away from the public eye but close enough for easy access. They often emit laughter – and the sound of tumbling blocks, bouncing balls, and meandering tricycles. 

They’re child care centers based at workplaces. And in the increasingly fraught American child care landscape, they are popping up more frequently.

Skyrocketing child care costs and staffing shortages have complicated arrangements for working parents. Some have left their jobs after struggling to find quality care. Employers, in turn, view their entry into the child care realm as both a competitive advantage and a workplace morale-booster.

“In the absence of government intervention and investment, a lot of businesses have been stepping up to make sure that their employees can access affordable child care,” says Samantha Melvin, an assistant research professor at the Erikson Institute, an independent graduate school for early childhood education.

Parents benefiting from child care at their work sites praise the model, given its convenience, affordability, and peace of mind. They can stop by to breastfeed or eat lunch with their little ones. And it doesn’t add time to their morning commutes.

Frances Ortiz, who works in accounting at The Venetian Resort Las Vegas, can’t imagine a better option. She says her 3-year-old daughter has gained independence and language skills – with Mom not far away – at the property’s on-site child care center for employees.

“She runs in here,” Ms. Ortiz says. “She grabs my badge. She has to open the door for herself.”

In September, the Pittsburgh International Airport added its own on-site child care. The center, which is run by a child care operator, serves children of Allegheny County Airport Authority employees as well as those of select airport workers, such as food and beverage workers, ground handlers, and wheelchair attendants. 

Airport officials say the idea stemmed from wanting to bring more women and people of color into the aviation workforce. Plus, the airport sits 17 miles outside of downtown Pittsburgh, making child care logistics challenging for employees. So far, it's operating at about half capacity, with more enrollments expected over the next few months. 

“It’s certainly an important proof point to our team that we mean it when we say that we’re invested in them and in what they need,” says Christina Cassotis, CEO of the Allegheny County Airport Authority, which operates the Pittsburgh airport.

An added bonus for the children: windows with views of planes taking off and landing.

How employers figure child care costs

The average American family spends nearly a quarter (24%) of its household income on child care, according to a survey this year from Care.com. The cost can eclipse rent or mortgages, if parents can access care in the first place. Many find themselves on wait lists.

As employers contemplate entering the child care realm, Ms. Melvin encourages them to find out what their workers want. What hours do they most need care? Are they looking for center- or home-based care?

The Care.com survey suggested that 30% of parents would like to see their employers provide on-site day care, while others identified child care subsidies (28%), flexible spending accounts (22%), and backup care (21%) as desirable workplace benefits.

More public and private employers appear to be heeding the call, though how they assist runs the gamut. Some fully run their own centers. Others outsource the operations and management to providers.

Jackie Valley/The Christian Science Monitor

A young boy enters the toddler room with his mother at the KinderCare Child Development Center at The Venetian Resort Las Vegas April 18, 2024.

The financial arrangements also differ. Many companies and organizations don’t disclose the exact discounts offered to employees, but they tend to be more affordable than or at least competitive with local rates.

Walmart, for instance, recently opened an on-site child care center at its massive Bentonville, Arkansas, campus. The Little Squiggles Children’s Enrichment Center charges a monthly rate of $1,117 to $1,258, based on the child’s age, which company officials tell the Monitor in an email is “at market rate or below regional levels for comparable care.”

Another method gaining steam: employers providing subsidies for families to use toward child care options within their own communities.

KinderCare, a large child care operator with locations nationally, partners with more than 600 businesses and organizations to provide employee-sponsored child care, up from 400 in 2019, says Dan Figurski, president of KinderCare for Employers and Champions. Those employers represent the technology, medical, banking, academic, and public service industries, among others.

The amount of financial assistance they’re extending to employees varies, he says, with some covering up to 90% of child care costs.

Mr. Figurski expects more companies to view child care as a benefit for their employees, not unlike health care.

“I do think the future is some blended model of government-subsidized and employer-subsidized child care moving forward so that every child has access,” he says.

Experts who study child care, however, caution against an overreliance on businesses filling the void. Philip Fisher, director of the Stanford Center on Early Childhood, says doing so could undercut efforts to recognize child care as a public good.

“There’s a lot of well-intentioned people who are thinking this is a really good idea, and for those who would benefit from it, it could be,” he says. “Again, there are lots of downsides even in the short term.”

One of those potential pitfalls, he says, is instability if a parent suddenly loses their job and then has to find new child care and a new job.

“What our team members want”

In Nevada, The Venetian Resort’s child care center, run by KinderCare, sits in a back-of-house hallway steps away from the famous Las Vegas Boulevard. 

All employees can enroll their children, as long as space allows, at a cost that’s generally 35% to 40% lower than KinderCare’s normal rate, says Matt Krystofiak, the Venetian’s chief human resources officer. The company also offers subsidies for employees who want to enroll their children in an off-site KinderCare closer to their homes. 

“We’re doing this because this is what our team members want,” he says. “This is what our team members need.”

Businesses such as Patagonia, another longtime leader in the space, also view child care as a reflection of their company culture.

The clothing retailer’s foray into child care began organically in 1983 when some of the company’s original employees started having children. As Patagonia grew, so did its child care footprint. Nowadays, the clothing company operates three child care centers – two in Southern California and one in Reno, Nevada – serving roughly 200 children.

The company conducts research annually to determine the cost to employees in each location, which leaders describe as an “average market rate.” Subsidies are available based on household income, says Sheryl Shushan, Patagonia’s director of global family services. The child care teachers are employed by Patagonia, so they receive corporate benefits as well.

On a recent morning, a 16-month-old boy toddled up a small embankment to touch wind chimes hanging from trees. His teachers watched from a short distance away in the outdoor classroom at Patagonia’s distribution center in Reno. 

“We believe that risk-taking builds character,” says Terry Randolph, program manager for the site. In this play-based environment, children spend hours outside, digging in sand, riding bikes, playing with water, or climbing natural and human-made objects. 

Patagonia leaders say the benefits on their end are stronger employee retention, a can-do spirit in the workplace, and a greater sense of community.

“There’s an opportunity to see co-workers as parents instead of just employees,” she says. “It just creates connection and purpose beyond the project you’re working on.” 

For Alyssa Oldham, a classroom manager in Reno, the job and child care benefit meant rethinking her family size. She and her husband originally envisioned being a one-child family, given child care costs. 

Now she comes to work holding two tiny hands belonging to her 4-year-old son and 1-year-old daughter.

“Working here, I was like, ‘We could have another child,’” she says.

This article, part of the series “Fixing the Child Care Crisis,” was produced by the Education Reporting Collaborative, a coalition of eight newsrooms that includes AL.com, The Associated Press, The Christian Science Monitor, The Dallas Morning News, The Hechinger Report, Idaho Education News, The Post and Courier in Charleston, South Carolina, and The Seattle Times.

Join us Wednesday, May 22, at 2:30 CST for an event led by the Seattle Times and AL.com, focused on the child care crisis and how to fix it. Panelists include Republican Sen. Katie Britt of Alabama, Democratic Sen. Patty Murray of Washington, and Lisa Hamilton, CEO of the Annie E. Casey Foundation. Follow this Facebook event for details.

Previous articles in the series: 

May 14: Why states are stepping in to help parents with child care costs

May 7: ‘I can be mom and teacher.’ Schools show appreciation by providing child care

April 30: These cities raised taxes – for child care. How it’s changing parents’ lives.

April 22: The US child care system is in crisis. It’s hardest on moms without degrees.

In August 2014, Christian John boarded a bus from Nigeria’s capital, Abuja, to get back to his studies two hours away at Government Technical College Kajuru. A few minutes into the ride, the vehicle broke down, and as the passengers waited for the problem to be fixed, armed federal police from the Special Anti-Robbery Squad (SARS) swarmed them.

“When I tried to inquire what was going on, they slapped me and asked that I keep quiet,” Mr. John recalls. 

The officers handcuffed Mr. John, and then bundled him and the other passengers into a waiting van that zoomed off to the police station. “It was the most traumatic experience of my life,” he says. “I didn’t understand what was happening or know what to do.” 

SARS officers, notorious for conducting arbitrary raids, demanding bribes, and perpetrating other abuses, accused Mr. John of robbery and conspiracy. Though he maintained his innocence, he lacked money to bail himself out of the police station’s jail and spent more than half a year there before finally appearing in court.

The court remanded him to prison, where Mr. John served four years until the nascent nonprofit Hope Behind Bars Africa (HBBA) heard of his case during a prison visit and got him to appear again before a judge. 

“I gained my freedom,” Mr. John says, the gratitude evident in his voice.

Ogar Monday

Ms. Adeoye stands with Christian John after her organization secured his release from Kuje Prison.

A common plight

HBBA offers free legal services to indigent Nigerians, many of whom are unjustly detained by police and are, like Mr. John, unable to afford bail or legal representation. HBBA has offices in 12 of Nigeria’s 36 states. Its team of more than 200 volunteer lawyers is spread across the country’s courts and prisons.

“Sometimes people tag us on a case on social media,” says Oluwafunke Adeoye, a lawyer who founded HBBA in 2018. Other times, HBBA hears of cases during routine prison visits.

The scale of the problem that HBBA is fighting is immense, Ms. Adeoye notes.

In Nigeria, more than 104 million people – almost half the population – live in poverty. Accessing legal representation can rise to 700,000 naira (about $500), or almost two years’ earnings for a minimum-wage worker. This means the most vulnerable people are caught in a cycle in which they lack the resources to fight back against police officers’ unfounded accusations or requests for bribes. A 2019 survey by the United Nations Office on Drugs and Crime found that more than a third of bribes paid in Nigeria went to police officers. 

The situation is compounded by a slow-moving judicial system. Data from the Nigerian Correctional Service shows that at least 69% of the prison population, representing more than 54,000 incarcerated people, is awaiting trial. 

Ogar Monday

Ms. Adeoye speaks in the capital, Abuja, at the launch of a program benefiting incarcerated Nigerians.

A passion rooted in injustice

HBBA has its roots in Ms. Adeoye’s childhood experience. When she was 7 years old, Ms. Adeoye says, her sailor father was unjustly arrested at his employer’s behest and detained for weeks without access to a lawyer. The ensuing financial strain took a toll on the family, forcing Ms. Adeoye to skip school for a year. “I remember, even as a child, whenever my dad spoke about the incident, [there was] his constant wish that he had someone to represent him,” she says. Her father’s ordeal inspired her commitment to providing legal aid to others.

While working at a law firm in Lagos in 2013, Ms. Adeoye was part of a team that supplied legal services to 14 men accused of conspiring to murder police officers. “Red flags emerged immediately [when] we saw the case file,” she says. “The bodies were never found, and the defendants only met ... the first time at the police station.”

The case dragged on to the Court of Appeal, where all 14 of the accused were acquitted. “I felt like, ‘Wow, I just saved these people literally from death,’” Ms. Adeoye says. “It solidified my commitment to using the law to protect the vulnerable.”

Against a powerful tide

The Special Anti-Robbery Squad, which formed in 1992, had long terrorized Nigerians. In October 2020, thousands of Nigerians took to the streets in what are now referred to as the #EndSARS protests, which quickly led to the dissolution of SARS.

Still, police abuses persist, and public funding for legal aid to indigent people is insufficient to meet the need. The work of nonprofit organizations such as HBBA is therefore critical, says Jonathan Ugbal, a journalist and human rights activist. 

Courtesy of Hope Behind Bars Africa

Ms. Adeoye and officials from the Nigerian Correctional Service attend the opening ceremony for the Women’s Vocational Skills Hub at Suleja Correctional Centre.

Mr. Ugbal notes that the lack of digitization of records is one factor that can lead to cases dragging on in the courts for years. He praises HBBA for facilitating settlements outside court.

“This benefits everyone involved,” he explains. “Defendants facing lengthy trials can find faster resolution, and the courts can free up judges and resources for other cases.”

HBBA represents clients facing various charges, including street hawking of goods, loitering, and prostitution. For these cases, Ms. Adeoye explains, the organization prioritizes diversionary measures. “In one instance, two boys were arrested for loitering near an army general’s residence,” she notes. After HBBA contacted the homeowner and got the boys to apologize, the charges were dropped.

In felony cases such as robbery or murder, HBBA works to make sure that Nigeria’s laws ensuring fair trials are followed. For example, a defendant can get a case dismissed “if the complainant fails to diligently pursue it, such as by repeatedly missing court appearances,” Ms. Adeoye explains. This was how HBBA ultimately secured Mr. John’s release.

Mr. Ugbal also highlights the issue of prison crowding and how HBBA is working to ease it. Nigerian prisons hold 37% more individuals than their capacity, hindering rehabilitation efforts. “Imagine the positive impact on prison conditions as [HBBA lawyers] continue to secure the release of detainees,” he says.

HBBA has represented at least 620 individuals awaiting trial and provided about 1.2 million hours of pro bono legal services. In addition to fighting for reforms in the criminal justice sector, it has helped more than 100 formerly imprisoned people reintegrate into Nigerian society. While HBBA’s work is limited because of funding – it relies on donations to pay transportation costs for its lawyers – the organization remains committed.

HBBA lawyers and other staff members face hostility from police officers who perceive them as enemies, but “we are constantly trying to let them know that we are all in the business of ensuring justice is served,” Ms. Adeoye says. 

AP

Mojtaba, son of Iranian Supreme Leader Ayatollah Ali Khamenei, attends a rally in Tehran, Iran, in 2019.

Over the past 15 years of various protests in Iran, one theme has stood out: equality. First, that the ruled are equal to their rulers, especially in elections. Second, that women have a right equal to men on whether to wear a head covering. And third, that individuals must be judged equally by their qualities and talents, not by family ties and bloodlines, in gaining top state jobs.

That last line of protest – against hereditary privilege and nepotism – has surged since the death on Sunday of President Ebrahim Raisi in a helicopter crash.

The president’s death has renewed speculation over who will succeed the supreme leader, Ayatollah Ali Khamenei. Mr. Raisi was a leading candidate. Now the spotlight has turned to the ayatollah’s second son, Mojtaba Khamenei, a low-ranking Shiite cleric who could become Iran’s third all-powerful theocrat since the Islamic Revolution in 1979 that toppled a monarchy.

More than equality – or the value of merit over kinship – is at stake. Any successor to the senior Khamenei, who has ruled for 35 years, could shift or reinforce Iran’s menacing role in the Middle East. He might also worsen or lessen the exodus of young Iranians seeking jobs abroad in part because of nepotism in business and government.

The junior Mojtaba, whose given name means “the chosen one,” has long served his father closely, especially in guiding Iran’s second-most-powerful institution, the Islamic Revolutionary Guard Corps, and its vast security and business network. While the supreme leader often says Islam is against hereditary rule, he has carefully groomed his son for a leading role. Most of Iran’s history is about the personalization of power, whether secular or religious, and passing it on to relatives.

That tradition was openly challenged by political dissidents starting in 2018. They have used social media to expose the privileges that dominant families enjoy in government and business. The hashtag #WhereIsYourKid? demands that officials explain their children’s wealth or the jobs they hold. “Are [the kids] reaping the fruit of their own effort or eating from our riches?” wrote one activist on the social platform X. Official media have been forced to join in, challenging high-level nepotism.

Such a shift in public thinking weighs against the anointing of Mojtaba as the next leader.

As more Iranians demand equality in all aspects of life, a regime led by clerics is being advised by the people to select leaders from Iran’s vast talent pool, not from its gene pool. In nearly every protest, Iranians are embracing a key concept of sovereignty – that each individual is worthy and equal. They are laying a cornerstone for a free and fair democracy, perhaps one with a peaceful purpose.