In the past few days, as President Trump neared the three-hundred-day mark of his second term, he made what amounted to a royal progress through Asia, negotiating trade deals and basking in gilded palaces. In South Korea, he was presented with a replica of an ancient golden crown. “I’d like to wear it right now,” he said, only eleven days after millions of Americans had gathered to protest his assumption of near-monarchical powers, in hundreds of No Kings rallies around the country. The South Koreans sure knew their mark. During the trip, Trump also announced, via a social-media post, the resumption of nuclear tests for the first time in decades; unleashed another deadly strike on an alleged drug-running boat in what appears to be an undeclared war for regime change in Venezuela; threatened, during a political pep rally in front of the supposedly apolitical U.S. military, to send active-duty troops to American cities; and admitted that he “would love” to remain in office for a third term before reluctantly acknowledging the Constitution’s strict ban on it.

Back in Washington, meanwhile, the U.S. government remained shut down for a fourth straight week, the result of an impasse with congressional Democrats that Trump has seemingly done nothing to resolve—even as thousands of workers go without pay. It was, in other words, just another week in the Trump era. The new normal is forgetting yesterday’s scandals in order to make room in our overcrowded brains for tomorrow’s. Remember when Trump imposed punitive new tariffs on Canada because he got mad about a television ad? When he demanded that the Justice Department pay him more than two hundred million dollars in compensation for the costs he incurred from the Biden Administration’s decision to investigate him? When he circulated an A.I.-generated video of himself dumping poop on Americans protesting him? That was so last week. And last week, in the Trump era, might as well have been an eternity ago. The black hole in which our previous outrage resides is vast.

Which is why I was struck by the visceral and lasting anger that has resulted from Trump’s decision to raze the East Wing of the White House without so much as a single public hearing or permit. A very senior Republican, a repeat Trump voter, told me that it was “disgusting” and “sick.” Polls show that large bipartisan majorities oppose the demolition. It’s been more than a week and people are still stewing about it. Has something finally broken through? Is that even possible anymore?

At a dinner I attended earlier this week, a query about what the worst thing was that had happened since Trump’s return to the White House prompted a chilling array of answers—only one of which was the tearing down of the East Wing. (Can you imagine if a Prime Minister of the United Kingdom just woke up one morning and ordered the smashing of a wing of Buckingham Palace, someone said.) It was the range of responses that seemed most telling to me—from Trump’s politicization of the military and the Justice Department to the unleashing of a new MAGA culture celebrating cruelty.

I decided to continue the conversation, asking a few dozen smart folks to send me their thoughts about the most disruptive, significant, or truly surprising events of these past few months. Answers poured in—thoughtful, anguished, perceptive answers that reminded me that there is value in naming the problem, even if nothing, for the moment, can be done to stop it. It is a response, if an imperfect one, to the sense of being overwhelmed by events to take a minute to pause and assess them, to think about what really matters and what might last from the jarring, undeniably historic moment through which we are living.

Some of my correspondents offered long lists of shocking events. Gary Bass, a professor of world politics at Princeton, listed seventeen examples “off the top of my head,” ranging from “pardoning the Jan. 6 insurrectionists” to “working to rig elections so that this nightmare never ends.” Others focussed on a telling individual moment. Jake Sullivan, who served as national-security adviser in the Biden Administration, said that it was the early capitulation of the law firm Paul, Weiss to Trump’s demands that set off “alarm bells.” It was, he added, the “canary in the coal mine.” Jill Lepore, a New Yorker colleague who is the Kemper Professor of American History at Harvard, and a law professor at Harvard Law, wrote that she was “genuinely surprised when, asked if it was his duty to uphold the Constitution, he said, ‘I don’t know.’ Just a surprising thing to say, given that the oath he’d taken, twice, is to ‘preserve, protect and defend the Constitution.’ ” She noted, “It seems a small thing, in a way, but I was struck by the glimmer of honesty here, a sort of shrug that seemed to say, ‘Eh, nah, who knows.’ ”