Mr Trump did so on June 11th, nominating Jay Clayton, the US attorney for the Southern District of New York. Mr Clayton is generally considered a more sober choice than Mr Pulte. But on June 16th Mr Trump said Mr Clayton would not appear for a scheduled confirmation hearing, and that a deal on spying powers would depend on yet another political fight, over voter-identification requirements. As is so often the case with Mr Trump, these theatrics obscure broader questions, on the scope of surveillance powers and the role of the DNI itself. The spying authorities at issue were created in 2008, in an amendment to the decades-old Foreign Intelligence Surveillance Act (FISA). Under Section 702 of the amended law, agencies could instead get approval for surveilling foreigners’ messages by providing a broad rationale—say, counter-terrorism —rather than obtaining individual warrants. The result was a torrent of intelligence. In 2022, for instance, 59% of the articles in the president’s daily brief drew on information gathered by the National Security Agency, America’s signals-intelligence service, using Section 702. Privacy advocates disliked the law’s scope and the way it enabled the government to sweep up the communications of some Americans. Even Mr Trump was once opposed to it, believing that it had been used to snoop on his 2016 presidential campaign. This year the White House has pushed for the law’s renewal, without reform. Letting it lapse, warned Marco Rubio, Mr Trump’s secretary of state, would be “devastating to national security”. Section 702 affects America’s allies, too, particularly those in the intelligence-sharing Five Eyes pact, which includes Australia, Britain, Canada and New Zealand. They not only benefit from the intelligence, but have deeply entangled intercept systems. Yet lapse the law did, at midnight on June 12th, after its renewal was blocked by both those opposed to the selection of Mr Pulte and those demanding stronger privacy protections. Mr Trump’s new manoeuvring with Mr Clayton will further delay a vote and give privacy advocates in the Senate more time to press their case. Ron Wyden, a Democrat, and Mike Lee, a Republican, have supported restrictions including a requirement for warrants to obtain Americans’ data.

The concern now is that American telecommunication and tech firms will refuse to hand over certain data, fearing that they will no longer enjoy legal protection for doing so. Sceptics retort that there is ample time for a solution. The FISA court has approved broad warrants that last until March, so there is little risk of going dark overnight. Other parts of FISA also survive, allowing spies to seek warrants on a case-by-case basis. “Any genuinely urgent collection against a specific target can proceed through an individualised court process,” notes Patrick Eddington of the Cato Institute, a think-tank, “which is exactly what the Fourth Amendment contemplates and what the reform coalition has urged for years.” That Mr Trump would knot together Section 702, a voter-identification bill and a DNI confirmation suggests that he is less concerned than Mr Rubio about FISA authorities. It is also a reminder that he doesn’t particularly mind if the office of the director of national intelligence (ODNI) has a qualified leader. The ODNI was created in 2005 to promote sharing among intelligence agencies, whose habit of hoarding secrets had contributed to the failures before 9/11. However, the new office struggled to stamp its authority on the agencies that actually collected the intelligence and controlled budgets. Ms Gabbard, in particular, remained on the periphery. When it became apparent that she was absent from important foreign-policy debates—she was on holiday during the raid to capture Nicolás Maduro and opposed war on Iran —her authority waned further. But she and Mr Trump had already taken steps to reduce the ODNI’s heft, aiming to cut its staff by more than 40%. On June 10th Mr Trump said he wanted to go further with “immediate and needed downsizing…reverting staff to their home agencies”. For now, the president seems content with no new spy law and no new DNI. That is a reminder of his comfort with volatility—and no small contempt for the machinery of intelligence. ■ Stay on top of American politics with The US in brief, our daily newsletter with fast analysis of the most important political news, and Checks and Balance, a weekly note that examines the state of American democracy and the issues that matter to voters.

This article was downloaded by zlibrary from https://www.economist.com//united-states/2026/06/14/political-manoeuvres-are- delaying-a-spy-law-and-new-intelligence-chief

United States · United States | Bone of contention

Pet-custody laws in America are changing More states are weighing pets’ interests, not just their price June 18th 2026 Delaware’s chancery court, known for presiding over some of America’s most important corporate litigation, recently had to decide a particularly hairy dispute. An estranged couple could not decide who would keep their goldendoodle, Tucker, so a judge said ownership would go to the highest bidder. In the end the ex-boyfriend’s bid had more bite. If the couple had been married, however, things might have ended differently. Since 2023, Delaware has ordered judges to decide the fate of divorcing couples’ pets through a consideration of their “well-being”. In most of America, divorce laws treat animals as property. Yet a few states are starting to break from the pack. A bill in Massachusetts would require judges to weigh the “best interests” of companion animals in divorce

disputes. Pennsylvania’s House passed a bill last year that would classify pets as “living beings that are generally regarded as cherished family members”. If these measures succeed, Massachusetts and Pennsylvania would join the roughly half dozen states that require courts to consider pets’ interests when dividing a household. Laws may become more expansive, too. Illinois granted pets a special status in divorces in 2018, but in April lawmakers moved to allow long-term partners and roommates to battle for custody of shared pets, too. This reflects a cultural shift. Nearly all pet owners consider pets to be part of the family, according to a survey by the Pew Research Centre; 51% value their pets as much as they do human family members. A separate survey by Talker Research found that nearly half of Gen Z respondents see their pets as their children. The money follows. Americans spent $152bn on their pets in 2024, more than double the figure a decade earlier. Goldendoodles like Tucker can cost up to $100,000, if purchased fully trained. Proponents reckon that courts everywhere should consider which partner treats a pet better and arrange for financial support. A recently divorced woman in New York says that her pet-custody arrangement, in which her ex- husband pays her $1,000 a month, lets her care for their two dogs. The risk is that new custody laws will swell court dockets and raise the already hefty cost of splitting up. The Colorado Bar Association has complained that divorce courts are already overloaded with child-custody and domestic-violence issues. Legislative reform moves slowly; break-ups do not. For couples splitting before the statutes catch up, lawyers are recommending “petnups”, prenuptial-style agreements spelling out who keeps the pet if a relationship ends. A petnup now might avoid a cat-fight later. ■ Stay on top of American politics with The US in brief, our daily newsletter with fast analysis of the most important political news, and Checks and Balance, a weekly note that examines the state of American democracy and the issues that matter to voters.

This article was downloaded by zlibrary from https://www.economist.com//united-states/2026/06/18/pet-custody-laws-in-america- are-changing

United States · United States | False promises

Scammers are preying on America’s illegal immigrants Fake lawyers see opportunity in Donald Trump’s crackdown June 18th 2026 In orange county, Florida, high-dollar fraud cases usually involve dubious crypto and property deals or tax evasion. But in late April the sheriff announced something stranger. The state attorney-general’s office is accusing a man, his wife and two others of running a fake immigration-law firm out of a boarded-up Orlando storefront. Operating as “Legacy Imigra”, they allegedly charged hundreds of immigrants—mostly Brazilians, in at least four states—for bogus services and filed fraudulent asylum applications on their behalf while holding their real documents ransom. The indictment claims that the foursome swindled aspiring Americans out of more than $20m.

Federal prosecutors in New York are going after an even more elaborate scheme. There they say a group of Colombian defendants not only posed as lawyers and extorted clients, but dressed in judges’ robes and police uniforms, staged sham court hearings over video calls and issued fake documents stamped with government seals. They even convinced “clients” to skip real court hearings, leaving them more vulnerable to deportation. The indictments expose a business that is booming in Donald Trump’s America. As the administration narrows legal pathways to citizenship and ramps up deportations, more immigrants are becoming desperate for legal protection. A growing industry of scammers is cashing in. Last year immigration arrests in America nearly tripled, yet just 42% of immigrants in deportation proceedings have a lawyer. Because immigration cases are civil, defendants have no constitutional right to one. The consequences of facing the government alone are stark, especially because most who come before a judge don’t speak English. An analysis of 1.2m cases by the American Immigration Council, an advocacy group, found that immigrants facing deportation were at least three times more likely to win their cases if they had a lawyer. For those who had been detained, their chances improved tenfold. To scammers, immigrants’ high demand and desperation has proved irresistible, a chance to scale up a model that has worked for them for years. Unscrupulous characters have long preyed on Spanish-speakers who confuse “notarios”, the word for an expert lawyer in many Latin American countries, with “notary”, a legal witness who can get certified in America with an online application and a basic background check. For years “notarios” in Los Angeles have solicited clients outside courthouses and driven vans through immigrant neighbourhoods offering “mobile services”, mostly without repercussions. But now more people are falling for it, says Gina Amato of Public Counsel, a California firm. “At a time when the stakes are so high, they’re out here selling dreams.” What started as a network of local scams has now become much more sophisticated online. Scammers are using Facebook, TikTok and WhatsApp to mimic specific immigration lawyers and non-profits that are known to do good work. About one-third of Catholic Charities’ chapters have been