Bible study has ended at Rep. Mayra Flores’ campaign headquarters, and volunteers are passing around steaming plates of chicken tamales. One staffer excitedly announces an all-female “Block Walk,” where participants will wear red high heels during an upcoming door-knocking effort.

“We all used to be Democrats,” says Minerva Simpson, vice president of Cameron County Republican Women, whose Facebook group ballooned to almost 800 members over the past two years. Mary David, who voted for a Republican for president for the first time in 2016, nods in agreement. 

“My dad, my grandmother, everyone I knew was a Democrat. It was passed down,” says Ms. David. She and Ms. Simpson chuckle, remembering the same John F. Kennedy wall rug that hung in their childhood homes. 

These women sitting in a Texas strip mall near the Mexico border are at the forefront of a potentially tectonic political shift. For decades, Latino voters in the United States have been overwhelmingly Democratic, drawn to the party of Franklin D. Roosevelt and Lyndon B. Johnson and its reputation of fighting for workers and marginalized groups. But recently, that partisan alliance has been showing unmistakable cracks.

In 2016, Donald Trump won 29% of all Hispanic voters – 2 points higher than Mitt Romney had done in 2012, according to exit polling by Edison Research. Then in 2020, Mr. Trump improved on his own performance, winning 32% of Hispanic voters.

Republicans have hit high-water marks with the Latino electorate before: In 1984 Ronald Reagan won 37%, and in 2000 and 2004, George W. Bush won 35% and 40% respectively. “Trump’s performance isn’t out of line with what we’ve seen historically,” says Mark Hugo Lopez at Pew Research. The big question is whether the Republican Party can keep, or continue to grow, Mr. Trump’s margins over the next few election cycles.

Many of these new Latino Republicans say their conversion is for good. Yes, it was former President Trump who brought them into the GOP – in part because he made them start paying attention to politics. Whenever they turned on the TV, it seemed, he was there, and they often found themselves agreeing with him. But they also came to see Mr. Trump’s party as reflecting their own values on economic and cultural matters. Notably, the shift has largely tracked with the nation’s growing education polarization: The Republican Party is making its biggest inroads among non-college-educated Hispanics, who make up more than 80% of the Hispanic population, just as it has with white voters without college degrees. 

Hispanic voters are hardly monolithic, and a majority overall are still loyal Democrats. In 2020, their support helped deliver several key swing states – including Georgia and Arizona – to Joe Biden. But the recent erosion has been significant enough to upend political assumptions on both sides of the aisle. The trend, which has been particularly evident among Mexican American voters in Texas and voters from Cuba and Central and South America in Florida, can be seen nationwide. It is likely to shape November’s midterms, the 2024 presidential race, and, it’s not an exaggeration to say, the future of U.S. politics.  

Perhaps nowhere has this realignment been as stark as in the Rio Grande Valley, a triangle of land in Texas’ southernmost tip. The most Hispanic area in the country, it has also historically been among the most Democratic. Starr County, for example, is 96% Hispanic and holds the longest Democratic presidential voting streak in the entire country at the county level.  

But between 2016 and 2020, Laredo, McAllen, and Brownsville, the region’s three biggest cities, all moved toward Mr. Trump by an eye-popping 20 to 30 percentage points – the largest shifts of any metro areas in the country. Similarly, Starr had the biggest shift of any county in the country, going from a 60-point Hillary Clinton victory in 2016 to a mere 5-point win for President Biden four years later. 

Story Hinckley/The Christian Science Monitor

“This is about all of us. All of us wanting recognition. All of us wanting Washington to hear us and not take us for granted,” says Rep. Mayra Flores, Republican representative of Texas’ 34th District and the first Mexican-born woman in Congress.

In June, Ms. Flores shocked the political establishment when she won a special election to replace a retiring Democrat, becoming the first Republican in 151 years to win a House seat from the Rio Grande Valley – and the first Mexican-born woman in Congress. A former respiratory therapist who moved to the U.S. when she was 6 years old and became a citizen in her teens, Ms. Flores ran on the simple motto “God, Family, Country.”

Now, she and two other Republican Latinas, Cassy Garcia and Monica De La Cruz, are making strong plays for all three of the area’s congressional seats in November. 

“Trump just opened up our eyes,” says Ms. David, back in Ms. Flores’ campaign office. “We saw all this change in our culture, against our values, and now we – Latinas – are standing up.”

While polling shows that Hispanic men are more likely to support the Republican Party than Hispanic women, Equis Research found that Mr. Trump’s approval rating among Latinas had increased 12 points by the end of his term – a shift much greater than that among Latino men. When weighted by subgroup size, Equis said Latino women likely made the “greatest impact” electorally. 

With this newfound political activism, many women here say they’ve gained a sense of agency. After years of struggling to provide for their families and feeling politically disengaged, they’re having a tangible influence on local and national elections. And that, they say, feels powerful. 

After the Bible study, a group of Flores volunteers heads outside, lining up along the strip’s fast-food restaurants and Mexican grocery stores. As they wave their American flags and Mayra Flores signs, cars and trucks honk back in support. One woman begins to cry, saying she’s overcome with gratitude that God has prepared Ms. Flores, Ms. Garcia, and Ms. De La Cruz – these three Latinas – for this moment. 

Alfredo Sosa/Staff

“We’re very faith-based, family-oriented down here in South Texas. I don’t think people realized that [Republican] values are their values. ... They’ve just always voted Democrat – but it’s not your abuela’s party anymore,” says Cassy Garcia, the GOP candidate for Texas’ 28th Congressional District, with Border Patrol officers Oscar Vela Jr. (left) and Sergio Moreno (right) at a barbecue on Sept. 10, 2022, in Laredo, Texas.

For decades, many strategists from both political parties largely subscribed to a theory that, when it came to the nation’s elections, demography was destiny. That view was prominently put forward in a popular 2002 book, “The Emerging Democratic Majority,” which argued that America’s growing racial and ethnic diversity was inexorably putting the Democratic Party on a track to permanent majority status – a prediction that later seemed to play out with President Barack Obama’s resounding 2008 and 2012 victories. A Time magazine cover from May 2009 even featured a Republican elephant below the headline “Endangered Species.”

Crucially, the book’s authors emphasized that this future Democratic dominance would depend not only on an electorate made up of more voters of color, but also on the Democrats maintaining their support among the working class. And while the diversity projections have held up – Hispanic voters have made up an increasingly large share of the electorate in every state since the turn of the 21st century – the Democrats’ hold on the working class has been slipping.

Mr. Trump’s appeal among white voters without college degrees has been well documented since he crashed through the Democrats’ “blue wall” in the industrial Midwest to win the presidency in 2016. But in his second presidential bid, that same working-class appeal began showing signs of crossing racial lines. In a post-2020 election analysis, Pew Research found a wide education gap among Hispanics: While Mr. Biden won college-educated Hispanic voters by a robust 69% to 30%, his margin among those without college degrees was slimmer, 55% to 40%. According to Edison Research’s exit polling, Mr. Trump won 26% of nonwhite voters without a college degree in 2020 – up from 20% in 2016, and Mr. Romney’s share of 16% in 2012.

“So many people here have grown up believing that the Democratic Party is the one for lower-income families,” says U.S. Border Patrol agent Oscar Pollorena. He’s attending a “law enforcement appreciation” barbecue in Laredo featuring Ms. Garcia, the GOP candidate for the 28th District. In January, the National Border Patrol Council endorsed Ms. Garcia, after years of endorsing Democratic Rep. Henry Cuellar, who’s running for reelection.

Alfredo Sosa/Staff

A U.S. Border Patrol vehicle can be seen at the border fence with Mexico on Sept. 12, 2022, in Brownsville, Texas. The National Border Patrol Council endorsed Republican Cassy Garcia for Congress after decades of support for Democrats.

“It’s the way the Democratic Party sells itself: ‘Vote for us and we’ll give you free food, free health care, free everything,’” Mr. Pollorena says, after his young family poses for a picture with Ms. Garcia. “And then they never actually come through.” 

When asked about their main voting issues, dozens of Hispanic voters across the Rio Grande Valley name the same two priorities: the economy and immigration. Not only is this the poorest region of Texas, with more than 1 in 3 people living in poverty, but it also has more than double the amount of illegal immigration as most other locales along the U.S.-Mexico border. To many here, the issues are interconnected. 

“When my mom was coming over, the crime rate was not like it is today and there wasn’t the flooding of people like it is today,” says Ms. David in Ms. Flores’ campaign office. (Experts note that border enforcement wasn’t the same then as today, with a greater capacity to find and register illegal crossings.) “She came from a culture of really hard work and never had any help. And today in the valley, as I see it, there is a lot of abuse of the system.”  

Congresswoman Flores, who came to America as a young girl to help her father pick cotton, says Congress needs to overhaul the immigration process. “Let’s make the legal process more affordable, faster, and safer,” she tells the Monitor, “so good immigrants that want to come here to work hard, for the American dream, to provide for themselves and their family, can do so legally.” 

Half a dozen Border Patrol agents tell the Monitor their jobs got harder under the Biden administration, with many more migrants now feeling emboldened to cross the border. They are also bracing for the end of Title 42, a Trump-era policy that Mr. Biden is trying to jettison, which will allow unauthorized migrants to once again wait inside the U.S. for processing. Title 42 is currently being held up in court.

“We feel like Uber drivers,” says Mr. Pollorena, back at the law enforcement barbecue. “These people are crossing and looking for us. They believe that as long as they set foot on American soil, they will have their free ticket. And in a sense, they’re right.”

For the first time, according to government data released in mid-September, the number of unauthorized immigrants arrested on the southwestern border has exceeded 2 million in one year. 

Some here concede that the former president’s rhetoric toward immigrants – he famously accused them of “bringing drugs” and “crime” and of being “rapists” – sounded overly harsh at times. 

Alfredo Sosa/Staff

“Look at the policies that were in place [during the Trump administration]. We had some of the best policies on immigration,” says Cassy Garcia, the GOP House candidate for the 28th District in Texas, on Republican immigration policy. Ms. Garcia (center) greets the Pollorena family as they arrive at a law enforcement appreciation event on Sept. 10, 2022, in Laredo, Texas.

“I don’t condone, like, everything that was said, you know? A lot of times it’s like ‘Ugh,’” says Cassy Garcia, who previously served as Sen. Ted Cruz’s deputy state director, in an interview between campaign events. “But you look at the policies that were in place [during the Trump administration]. We had some of the best policies on immigration.” 

Some analysts see the Hispanic movement toward the GOP as part of a larger political sorting that’s been slowly happening over decades, in which the two major parties have become far more ideologically “pure.” Voters who identify as liberals are now overwhelmingly likely to be Democrats. Voters who hold more conservative views – and that includes many Hispanics, particularly in Texas – are increasingly likely to be Republicans. Many here cite an old quote attributed to former President Reagan that “Hispanics are already Republicans, they just don’t know it yet.”

“We’re very faith-based, family-oriented down here in South Texas,” says Ms. Garcia. “I don’t think people realized that [Republican] values are their values. ... They’ve just always voted Democrat – but it’s not your abuela’s party anymore.”

From a conference table at a law office-turned-local Democratic headquarters in Pharr, Texas, surrounded by yard signs for Texas’ Democratic candidates up and down the ballot, Irma Garcia, president of the Rio Grande Valley Democrats, and Richard Gonzales, chair of the Hidalgo County Democrats, say claims of a Hispanic political realignment are greatly exaggerated. And they feel confident that a Republican wave in the Rio Grande Valley isn’t going to happen this November – particularly among Latinas. 

They point to the 300,000 new voters added in Texas this summer following the Supreme Court’s ruling that overturned Roe v. Wade and women’s right to an abortion. Many of these newly registered voters, they note, are young women.

“Latinas are the ones who are going to be moving [to the polls] because of Roe v. Wade. They are not happy with what’s going on,” says Irma Garcia. Polling data supports that view: A Public Religion Research Institute survey from July found that 66% of Hispanic Americans believe abortion should be legal in all or most cases.

“[Abortion] is a tangible situation that affects millions of women across this country,” agrees Mr. Gonzales. “Whereas immigration, yes, it’s an issue that needs to be fixed, but it isn’t life or death right now.” That, along with the fact that COVID-19 and gas prices seem to have receded as top-of-mind issues, makes them confident about their party’s chances in November. 

Alfredo Sosa/Staff

“Latinas are the ones who are going to be moving [to the polls] because of Roe v. Wade. They are not happy with what’s going on,” says Irma Garcia (left), president of the Rio Grande Valley Democrats, at the offices of Richard Gonzales (right), Hidalgo County Democratic chairman, in Pharr, Texas.

There are other reasons the Latino Republican shift in Texas may be more “shallow” than it appears, says Mark Kaswan, a political science professor at the University of Texas Rio Grande Valley in Brownsville. Ms. Flores won her seat here in June by just 2,000 votes amid dismal turnout: Fewer than 29,000 voters even bothered to cast ballots in the special election, less than 6% of the district’s voting-age population. 

And this fall, Ms. Flores’ campaign and other House races will be significantly impacted by new district lines. Previously, the 34th, 28th, and 15th congressional districts were all considered “toss-ups,” with Democrats holding a less than 5-point partisan edge according to FiveThirtyEight. But after the latest round of redistricting – the decennial process in which House districts are redrawn to reflect population shifts within and between states – Ms. Garcia’s 28th District now “leans Democratic,” and Ms. Flores’ 34th District is classified as “solid D.” 

Ms. Garcia is challenging Mr. Cuellar, a conservative Democrat and one of the few remaining lawmakers in his party who opposes abortion rights. In office since 2005, he has had to fend off primary challenges from the left over the past two cycles. In 2020, Mr. Cuellar defeated progressive challenger Jessica Cisneros by 4 percentage points. In 2022, she ran again and the race went to a runoff. Mr. Cuellar won by fewer than 300 votes. Meanwhile, Ms. Flores faces a challenge by Congressman Vicente Gonzalez, who moved into the new district.

Democratic activists also admit they’ve learned a lot from the past two years. “Of course Republicans did well here, we’d be naive not to acknowledge that,” says Mr. Gonzales. “But we’ve gotten a lot better with messaging,” adds Irma Garcia. A few blocks from Mr. Gonzales’ law office, a white yard sign advertising the Rio Grande Valley Democrats is tied to a house’s front porch. In big blue letters, it reads “Faith, Family, Freedom” – an almost exact echo of Ms. Flores’ campaign motto.

“[Republicans are] trying to claim those words,” says Ms. Garcia. “But those are our words too.” 

Tumbleweeds blow past empty buildings in downtown Rio Grande City, where the beige adobe exterior of Caro’s Restaurant disappears into the surrounding desert. Inside, TVs and taxidermy animal heads are mounted on the walls, as well as decades-old newspaper clippings praising Caro’s signature “puffy taco.” 

Alfredo Sosa/Staff

“We’re very poverty stricken, if you couldn’t tell. Democrats are worried about the environment 20 years from now – but I need to feed my kids today,” says Claudia Alcazar, chair of the Starr County Republicans (left), with Toni Treviño (right), a local member of the state Republican Party Committee, on Sept. 12, 2022, in Rio Grande City, Texas.

“We’re very poverty stricken, if you couldn’t tell,” says Claudia Alcazar, chair of the fast-growing Starr County Republicans, after ordering a combination plate off the menu. “Democrats are worried about the environment 20 years from now – but I need to feed my kids today.” 

Many voters here say it feels as though Democrats have increasingly prioritized social issues at the expense of a jobs agenda – a perception that increased dramatically during the COVID-19 lockdown. They also say the Democratic Party has shifted sharply to the left on things such as critical race theory, gender ideology, and sex education in schools, and even abortion, without pausing to consider whether voters like them would follow. Some note that not long ago, President Obama was publicly opposed to gay marriage. 

While the majority of Hispanics in the U.S. still identify as Roman Catholic, long the predominant religion in Latin America, Hispanic Protestants, including Evangelicals, are growing in number and are expected to double by 2030. Given that Mr. Trump increased his winning margin among white Evangelicals between 2016 and 2020, it’s not hard to imagine this religious shift directly leading more Hispanics into the Republican fold.

Pastor Luis Cabrera opened City Church Harlingen with his wife, Crystal, in August, 2021, after founding his congregation in his home a few years earlier with just three other families. The Rio Grande Valley has the highest concentration of Hispanic Protestants in the country.

Sometimes people can go for years just blindly accepting the status quo, says Mr. Cabrera. But all it takes is one moment of awakening to bring real change. “They are waking up and asking, ‘Why are we going to this church?’ or ‘Why are we quiet about politics?’”

In his view, those two things – church and politics – go hand in hand. To truly live their Christian beliefs, Mr. Cabrera tells his congregation they need to “be involved civically” and support candidates who share their values. His sermons inspired one congregant, Ms. Flores, to take her activism all the way to Washington.

Historically, Hispanic Americans have had lower voter turnout rates than their white, Black, or Asian peers. Mr. Cabrera considers it part of his duty to change that. The hallway between his office and the church auditorium is lined with photographs of congregation members singing, holding potlucks, and participating in political rallies – proudly posing with guns in hand. 

When Mr. Cabrera takes the Sunday stage, the music turns up and the audience sways to the beat beneath American flags and a “Make America Godly Again” sign. 

“Lord, help us fight for this country,” says Mr. Cabrera, as the crowd murmurs in agreement.  

Alfredo Sosa/Staff

A band performs during City Church Harlingen’s Sunday service on Sept. 11, 2022, in Harlingen, Texas. Many evangelical Latinos are joining the Republican Party.

On a warm fall day in Washington, D.C., a few dozen people in red “Si Se Puede!” T-shirts have gathered on a patch of grass outside the U.S. Capitol building to celebrate National Hispanic Heritage Month. Speakers take turns with a bullhorn, talking in both English and Spanish about the need for equality and respect.

A few blocks away, Ms. Flores sits on a leather couch in her congressional office. She hasn’t had time to do much decorating since moving in over the summer – the coffee table is bare except for a Monster energy drink and Bible reading guide. And there’s a chance she may not be here for long, given her redrawn district’s more Democratic tilt. But she’s determined to make the most of it. Over the past several months, Ms. Flores voted against protecting the rights to access contraceptives and abortion, as well as against expanding firearm regulations and requiring states to recognize same-sex and interracial marriages performed out-of-state.

“This is not just about Mayra Flores,” she says, gesturing to the office around her. “This is about all of us. All of us wanting recognition. All of us wanting Washington to hear us and not take us for granted.”

Behind her desk are two leather-bound books. “Jefferson’s Manual: Rules and Practices of the House of Representatives,” several inches tall when closed, lies partially hidden by the Bible, which is open to Psalms. To the right of the books is a framed photograph. It’s Ms. Flores, smiling in front of several American flags on her inauguration day, alongside another woman: her mother.

In the Latino community, “mothers play a huge role,” says Ms. Flores, a mother of four. “We feel responsible for our children’s safety and their future. That’s why you’re seeing so many mothers coming out.”

She’s talking about women like JoAnn Garcia, who recently came into her campaign headquarters with her 7-year old daughter Mia, asking for some “Flores for Congress” yard signs. “I was surprised she won,” as an anti-abortion Latina, JoAnn Garcia says. “But I was so excited. ... She represents my own family.”

JoAnn Garcia excuses herself to call her mother to confirm that she wants a Flores yard sign as well. Yes, her mother tells her on the phone, the biggest one they have. 

David Cliff/AP

A bookmaker takes bets for the next British prime minister after Liz Truss resigned, in London, Oct. 20, 2022. Ms. Truss served a tumultuous, short-lived term in which her policies triggered turmoil in financial markets and a rebellion in her party that obliterated her authority.

The lettuce outlasted the prime minister.

After just 44 days in office, Liz Truss resigned as Britain’s prime minister, making her tenure the shortest in the United Kingdom’s history. The Daily Star livestreamed a head of iceberg (in a wig), asking “Will Liz Truss still be prime minister within the 10-day shelf-life of a lettuce?”

This led to many jokes – it’s the “endive times,” “she could not romaine.” But in the real world, no one is laughing at the prospect of a third British prime minister in two months, with residents of the United Kingdom concerned about financial insecurity and an era of instability that seems to have taken root since the Brexit referendum.

Ms. Truss’ chaotic departure from office, coming so soon after the end of Boris Johnson’s scandal-marred time at No. 10 Downing St., has left Britons with feelings of frustration and disconnect from their government. And while the Conservative Party is working at breakneck speed to determine Ms. Truss’ replacement, most Britons seem to want the next government to be realistic and grown-up about the problems the country faces.

“I’d like someone to say, well, here we are, and here’s what I think is the best way out of it,” says Lynda Warren, a retired university professor who lives in Eglwys Fach, Wales. “Someone who has some vision and honesty about how they’re going to deal with the variety of financial problems we’ve got.”

James Manning/PA Wire/PA /AP

Liz Truss arrives in Downing Street, London, Oct. 21, 2022. Ms. Truss will remain in office until a successor is decided, which is expected to happen by Oct. 28.

“The government doesn’t serve the people”

Hakan Ozdemir moved to the U.K. from Turkey four years ago. In Turkey, he was a solicitor. In Britain, he works as a Deliveroo driver as he gets ready to retake his exams. Mr. Ozdemir says he left his native country because of the unstable political situation and, while he’s largely happy with his life in the U.K., he feels let down by a failing political system.

“The entire world is unstable and politicians aren’t going to fix it,” he says. “I’m done with wishing for things from the government. I won’t vote in the next election, or perhaps for the rest of my life. The government doesn’t serve the people that voted them in. I used to think they work for us. But I don’t believe that now.”

The overwhelming feeling among the British public is the desire for a leader with maturity to take control of this sinking ship and steer it in the right direction. Dr. Warren would like the next leader of the U.K. to reflect the values of British citizens. She’s not convinced it’s likely, however.

“I don’t think we are, at the end of the day, any worse than any other country. But I do think we’re in one almighty mess worldwide,” she says. “I don’t look forward to the future with a great deal of confidence for it being a happy place.”

Paul Bussey, a film and TV editor from Brighton and Hove, echoes this sentiment. “The resignation of the PM after just six weeks speaks volumes about how the ruling party are functioning because if they can’t elect a leader that stays in power for more than 44 days, how on earth are they going to run a country? The harsh reality is, they’re not.”

He, like many others, believes the country is losing its international standing and any kind of credibility on the world stage. “[This government] can’t even get its own house in order,” he says. “How could we possibly go to another country and tell them, you should do it like this? What right do we have?”

What Mr. Bussey says he would like from the next government is honesty. “I want people’s taxes used intelligently to support those in the community that are vulnerable. Because if you don’t look after them, it’s just an erosion of civilized society. There is proof that when you look after people on the lowest rung of the ladder, society as a whole improves.”

Natasha Khullar Relph

Paul Bussey, a film and TV editor in Brighton and Hove, poses for a photo on Market Street in Brighton and Hove, England, Oct. 21, 2022. He wants honesty out of the next British government. "I want people's taxes used intelligently to support those in the community that are vulnerable. Because if you don't look after them, it's just an erosion of civilized society."

“We need someone to actually be in charge”

After Brexit and the general election of 2019, the country was so tired and scarred, the last thing the public wanted was another election. Yet, in a desire for some last semblance of stability and leadership, there are rising calls for an early general election.

People are noting that if the next election stays on schedule, it raises uncomfortable questions. If the status quo remains, how many more prime ministers does the country cycle through in the remaining two years? Is the entire country to be at the mercy of the psychodrama of an imploding ruling party? Despite the urgency of such issues, many are unconvinced they will have the chance to vote for their next PM any time soon.

“For there to be a general election, the Conservatives would have to vote for it. And turkeys don’t vote for Christmas,” says Dr. Warren.

Max Patterson, a voter in his early 20s from Knebworth, England, says he’s trying to be realistic about the prospects for an election. “Although I personally want a general election, there is a reality that this Christmas, we need someone to actually be in charge of making the decisions that are going to help people, given how many are under threat over energy bills and the rising cost of living,” says Mr. Patterson, who works with an environmental nonprofit.

“For me, it’s about someone coming in who’s genuinely open to ideas, someone who’s calm and collected and can put the markets at ease, put the people at ease, and come out with clear communication about what the government is going to do. The public don’t care who’s in charge, they just want people that are actually going to help them.”

What he’s wary of is the continued revolving door and yet another prime minister coming in with a completely new set of ideas that are ideological. “I think that’s going to be continuing the problem and kicking the can down the road, unfortunately.”

Last December, Arif Pujiyanto was resting at his home on Bintang Beach, Pari Island – a popular vacation spot some 27 miles north of Jakarta – after a day’s work when he heard a neighbor shouting.

“Seawater is coming in!” they repeated. 

Mr. Pujiyanto grabbed his sandals and ran out of his house only to find ankle-deep tidal flooding had already inundated his neighborhood. Within a few hours, the seawater reached his knees, flooded his kitchen, and engulfed most of the island, before receding in the early morning. 

“In my youth, rising tide was the most cherished moment,” says Mr. Pujiyanto, who now works as a welder but used to spend his days hopping between fishing boats, catching groupers, squids, and shrimp. “It’s the perfect moment to catch fish. But now the high tide moves in against us.”

Environmental groups say Pari Island has lost around 5 acres of land due to sea-level rise in recent decades, and most of the island could be submerged by 2050. But residents aren’t going down without a fight.

Adi Renaldi

Arif Pujiyanto opened Bintang Beach to the public in 2011 following the area's tourism boom. Tidal floods have threatened his livelihood and damaged his house. “In my youth, rising tide was the most cherished moment ... but now the high tide moves in against us," he says.

Four residents are suing Swiss concrete giant Holcim, demanding the company dramatically reduce its emissions and pay the plaintiffs a modest fee for climate-related damages. The case – the first in Indonesia to pit members of the public against a foreign private company through transnational litigation – is now headed to court in Switzerland, where it could take months to resolve. It follows a global trend; a report by the London School of Economics Grantham Research Institute on Climate Change and the Environment found that climate change lawsuits have more than doubled since 2015.

It also showcases an increase in public awareness on climate change and a desire for justice, says Agung Wardana, an environmental law expert and a Humboldt Fellow at Max Planck Institute for International Law in Heidelberg, Germany.

“This will be a landmark case in Indonesia,” says Mr. Wardana. “I think many others could follow suit in demanding accountability of major polluters. The homework to win the case is to find the causality between Holcim’s activities and its impact on Pari Island. That’s the challenge.”

An existential crisis

Experts say Indonesia, the largest archipelago in the world with more than 17,000 islands, will be among the hardest hit by climate change. Several islands have already been lost, and Indonesia’s Research and Innovation Agency states that around 115 will be submerged by 2050. 

In recent decades, all major drivers of Pari Island’s economy have been threatened by climate change, including fishing and seaweed farming, the latter of which was a cornerstone of the island’s economy until the early 2000s. 

Asmania, who goes by one name and is a plaintiff in the Holcim case, remembers how “dried seaweeds were lined along the road” during the ’90s, before warming sea temperatures and pollution took its toll on the crop. “They’re long gone and we can’t grow them back,” she says. 

In the years since, tourism has largely filled the gap. An average of 2,000 tourists visit the tiny island each month, and the numbers increase considerably during holiday seasons, reaching more than 10,000 during Eid.

Weekends are the busiest time for fisherman Edi Mulyono. He and his wife provide tour packages around the island, as well as rent out guesthouses, snorkeling gear, and boats. 

Adi Renaldi

Asmania waters the community garden near Tanjung Rengge Beach on Pari Island. The island has already lost about 5 acres to rising sea levels, say environmental experts. Asmania and other plaintiffs hope their lawsuit against Holcim will help save the rest of their home.

“It’s been a good business,” says Mr. Mulyono. “We manage all tourism attractions on Pari Island by ourselves without the help from the government, but local tourism is threatened as some guests canceled their trip when seawater breached.”

Mr. Mulyono observed that tidal floods have become higher since 2019, reaching over two feet in some areas, and increasingly difficult to predict. Changing weather patterns also made it harder to catch fish, forcing fishers to sail out more than 15 miles to get a good catch. 

“Our ancestors know the seasons and the best time to catch fish just judging by the direction of the wind,” Mr. Mulyono says. “But now it becomes unpredictable. It’s not uncommon for us to come home empty-handed.”

Even though life was challenging for Pari Island’s 1,400 residents, many didn’t realize the extent of the problem until a community meeting with the Indonesian Forum for Environment (WALHI) in 2021. During the discussion researchers and activists from the nongovernmental organization presented data on rising sea levels and explained how carbon emissions from massive, multinational companies threatened the future of their island.

Armed with that information and the support of their neighbors, four residents partnered with WALHI, the European Center for Constitutional and Human Rights, and Swiss Church Aid in July of this year to take legal action, honing in on cement giant Holcim.  

Finding justice in solutions

Holcim is among 100 top polluters in the world, known as Carbon Majors, alongside oil and gas giants such as Shell, BP, Anadarko, and others. With presence in over 90 countries, Holcim has emitted more than 7.1 billion tons of carbon between 1950 to 2021, according to research by the Climate Accountability Institute.

The company has been active in Indonesia since 2001, when it acquired national cement producer Semen Cibinong.

Adi Renaldi

The Holcim lawsuit could take months to be resolved in court, but in the meantime, many Pari residents are doing their part to mitigate the effects of climate change, including planting mangroves around the island to fight abrasion and tidal flooding. Seeds will be harvested from these plants on Tanjung Rengge Beach to extend the mangrove barrier.

“Why Holcim? people asked,” says Puspa Dewy, head of WALHI’s research and legal division. “It is because the cement industry was the third major polluter after oil and gas. Holcim today is the largest cement producer in the world, and we demand their responsibility to further cut their emission.”

Experts argue there’s precedent for such demands.

Mr. Wardana says the Pari case bears resemblance to a 2015 lawsuit that Peruvian farmer Saúl Luciano Lliuya filed against German energy company RWE, as well as Milieudefensie et al v. Royal Dutch Shell. In May 2021, a district court in The Hague, Netherlands, ordered Royal Dutch Shell to reduce its global carbon emissions by 45% by 2030, becoming the first major climate litigation ruling against a corporation. 

The plaintiffs demand Holcim cut its greenhouse gas emissions by 43% by 2030 and 69% by 2040. They also demand approximately $3,300 for each plaintiff in compensation for psychological and material losses.

Holcim has said it “takes climate change very seriously,” and “we significantly reduced our footprint over the last decade and will cut it further by 2030.” The mandatory conciliation period ended this month with Holcim rejecting the lawsuit’s demands. Having failed to reach an agreement, the next step is civil court, according to Parid Ridwanuddin, a coastal campaigner with WALHI.

Mr. Mulyono hopes that a court victory will pressure other major polluters, not just Holcim, to cut their global emissions. He says he and his neighbors want to live without fear of losing their island.

Local environmental activists also hope that raising the profile of Pari Island’s plight will remind Jakarta of the urgency of climate change. Its proximity to the capital “should be a warning to the government that the impact of climate change is right in front of the door,” says Mr. Ridwanuddin.

In the meantime, many Pari residents are doing their part to mitigate the effects of climate change. 

Asmania and many other residents set up a local mangrove-planting initiative in the hopes of preventing seawater intrusion. They have planted thousands of mangroves on three beaches over the past two years, and plan to add more by collecting seeds from existing trees.

“We also offer tourists to donate some money in exchange for planting mangroves together,” she says. “I think this is a good way to raise awareness among tourists that we have to protect this island.”

This story was supported by the Pulitzer Center on Crisis Reporting.

I change my trousers now and then, not only to rest them but to accommodate the nettoyagical cycle, and I take the few things out of the pockets and put them in the other pockets. My wallet, which is a repository of abandoned keepsakes and no funds, is of good leather and durable. In it, were I or anybody to look, can be found my Coast Guard ID for clamming at Nugent’s Point in World War II, my membership in the 4-H Club, toll tickets for several bridges now free, my admiral’s commission in the Navy of the Great State of Nebraska, permit to indoor bird-watching, pass on the Boston and Lynn narrow-gauge railroad, 50 francs old money, a recipe for buttermilk biscuits, and the telephone number of Gladys Hasty Carroll – things for which I have no immediate use, but you never can tell. I have also kept there several documents that I don’t now know what they are. 

Then I have my jackknife. I could never get along without my faithful jackknife. I fondle it as I shift it from one pants pocket to another, and I think of all the happy years we’ve had together. I can’t remember the last time I used it.

I’ve worn out, mislaid or lost, swapped, donated, and otherwise said farewell to many pocketknives and quickly found another to go right to work. From playing mumblypeg to dressing a codfish, a jackknife goes with boyhood and manhood in Maine, and over and beyond one’s own uses. You never know when somebody will want to open a bag of grain or sharpen a pencil. 

For many, many years now, as I forsook my several trades and professions, I have carried a residual folding knife that is not my own, but is useful as a souvenir and reminder of all pocketknives past.

It was my father’s boyhood knife, and as well as he could remember, he acquired it in 1886 in a swap with Foster Crosman. Foster got a rusty relic found in the crud from the pumpkin factory, and my father got a similar knife found by Foster in some other mother lode. Dad’s prize had one blade, a smooth horn handle, and a great future. 

A jackknife swap was not altogether a just and upright transaction. You showed your good friend your good jackknife, which he would admire and covet, and then you concealed your “swapper” in your other hand and asked if he’d like to swap. Every respectable young man had two knives, at least two, of which one was his less useful “swapper.” My father, in upright and forthright honesty, had thus yielded his own and had acquired Foster’s swapper. My father inspected his new knife and decided the swap had been in his favor. He carried it the rest of his life and gave it to me at last.

My father left home when he was 15 to work on a dairy farm, so it would be around 1890 by his recollection that he went to Topsham Fair one October. The last fair of the season, Topsham Fair was usher to winter. It was the gala windup. The farm and household exhibits were important then, and hoss trottin’ with its gaming appeal was yet to be thought of. Farm nags did the racing, and family buggies outnumbered sulkies. The free-for-all set few track records, but Tom against Joe with old Fan and Tige and express wagons had their merits. On the midway, that jackknife year, my father was bug-eyed at the rattlesnakes.

We’ve never had rattlesnakes in Maine. They have them in New Hampshire and Vermont, but they seem to dislike our climate or taxes. There’s nothing in our woods to bite you but blackflies.

So while my father was standing with his young friends in the crowds around the rattlesnakes, another boy spoke to him: Did he have a jackknife? My father didn’t know the lad, so was wary. Yes, he said, he had a jackknife.

So the strange boy asked if he might borrow it for a moment. 

Cautious about dealing with a stranger in a crowd, my father quite properly asked the boy what he wanted it for. 

I’ve always felt that the boy’s explanation, while perhaps not expected, nonetheless made sense under those circumstances, and my father should not have been altogether surprised. The boy said, in straightforward manner, that he wanted to cut the rattles off his rattlesnake. 

But my father was suspicious about that, and to keep a grip on the matter, he said, “I’ll go and watch.”

The cool Maine weather of congenial October had proved inauspicious for the imported rattlers used in the show, and one specimen had expired. The boy seeking a jackknife was of the traveling family doing the snake act. My father looked on as his jackknife was used to take the rattles as a souvenir. He told me the boy stood up, folded the blade back into the handle, handed the knife back, said thank you, and was lost in the crowd. 

Owning, as I do, the only (probably) jackknife in the state of Maine ever to be associated with a rattlesnake, I feel a heavy responsibility sits upon me to keep and preserve it. 

Since coming into our family, the knife has been sharpened so many times that little of the original wide and strong blade remains. Even so, what is left of it is dull and no longer helpful as a sharp tool. I must saw briskly to sever a twine.

I do not plan ever to hone it again. But I’d be lost without it. I need it the same way I need the Canadian cent coined the year I was born and odd treasures like those I appraise as I change my pants. 

This is one of a few previously unpublished works that essayist John Gould wrote for the Monitor.

Reuters

Senators in Chile's legislature hold a discussion before a vote Oct. 4.

Societies convulsed by mass protests are often left wondering afterward if anything has changed. One place finding an answer is Chile. Three years ago, the South American country was rocked by violent demonstrations over economic inequality. Now it is starting to realize that achieving such aspirations depends more on humility than on violence.

That insight may be the discovered gemstone after a political defeat for the country’s young new president, Gabriel Boric. A former student activist, he came to office earlier this year vowing to overhaul a political and economic system largely designed under Chile’s former dictator, Augusto Pinochet. But his plan, embodied in a proposed new constitution, fell apart in September when 62% of voters rejected the far-reaching document.

The vote was a moment of “highly unusual” electoral maturity, as The Financial Times called it. By mid-October, Mr. Boric’s public approval had collapsed to 27%. But notably, his opponents, who control the legislature, have urged unity over one-upmanship. That gesture toward finding common ground provides a model for other societies, from Iran to Sri Lanka, that have erupted in protests and are seeking their own pathways to democratic renewal.

“There are moments in the life of countries ... that require greater efforts of nobility and more resolute wills to reach agreements that allow us to live in peace,” wrote Javier Macaya, a senator and leader of an opposition party, in Chile’s main newspaper, El Mercurio. “We live in a time when we should all think about Chile – not in what is best for our group, faction, party, or political project.”

Senator Macaya, a former lawyer and professor, has a record in politics of speaking passionately against any one side overly asserting its will. He is one of the few opposition leaders whom Mr. Boric consults regularly. In a Twitter post that was echoed or endorsed earlier this month by many of his colleagues in other parties, he denounced making political capital out of the draft’s defeat: “To ‘make use of victory,’ ‘humiliate the vanquished,’ or ‘put the government between the sword and the wall’ ... is to make everything polarized again. Let us not repeat past mistakes!”

Mr. Boric expressed similar restraint in a speech before the United Nations General Assembly a few weeks after the constitutional referendum. “The results were the expression of citizens who ... want a better future built seriously and without adding new uncertainties to the mix,” he said. Politicians, he said, “have to take advantage of the wisdom of our societies and not try to replace it” with their own priorities.

Chileans have a saying: la tercera la vencida. It means that in the third round of negotiations, a deal is closed, and it reflects a cultural norm of building trust through mutual respect. Their rejection of the draft constitution reflected an aversion to what they saw as overreach. But the public’s desire for reform remains. Chastened by the public’s rebuke, Mr. Boric has turned to his opponents in Congress to help find a new approach for constitutional reform. From a first false start, Chileans have found a unity of good on which to build a new structure of democratic ideals.