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Herbert Kroemer, a German-born American physicist who was awarded the Nobel Prize for his part in discoveries that paved the way for the development of many trappings of modern life, including high-speed internet communication, mobile phones and bar-code readers, died on March 8. He was 95.

The death was announced by the University of California, Santa Barbara, where he was an emeritus professor. No further details were provided in a statement.

Dr. Kroemer’s most important contributions were in the development of so-called heterostructures. They vastly enhance the speed, and therefore the power, of transistors and other types of semiconductors that are the building blocks of all electronic equipment.

The Nobel Committee’s recognition of Dr. Kroemer’s work was unusual, since his breakthrough was in applied science rather than in pure research, which is typically where the biggest advances in the understanding of physics occur. But by the time he received a share, with two other scientists, of the Nobel Prize in Physics in 2000, the impact of his work was so enormous, it could not be denied.

His most significant research was done entirely while he was employed in the private sector.

Dr. Kroemer, who had earned his Ph.D. from the University of Göttingen in Germany just before his 24th birthday — a young age for a theoretical physicist — went to work for the German postal service in 1952 because, he said in a 2008 interview with the Nobel Institute, there were no postdoctoral positions available at the time.

The postal service had created a small laboratory and research group to look into how to improve telecommunications, staffed with experts in designing experiments. But they needed a theoretician to help them understand what was happening. Dr. Kroemer’s job, as he explained it, was to poke his nose into everyone else’s business, so long as he did not touch any of the equipment.

At the time, the experimentalists were having trouble making use of transistors, which had been invented at Bell Laboratories in Murray Hill, N.J., five years earlier. It was clear that transistors, which consist of an electron emitter (electrons), a base and an electron collector (holes), were a great technological leap forward, but they were too slow for practical applications. They were inefficient — electrons going from the emitter to the base often flowed back to the emitter — and they could not handle high-frequency signals.

Dr. Kroemer’s first idea was to create a graded base so that the electrons would provide a greater charge, or more energy, as they went from the emitter to the collector, much as water does as it approaches a beach in waves that crash along the shore. The problem was that the technology did not exist at that time to build one. (It does now, and such graded bases are used in today’s transistors.)

A colleague at the postal service, Alfons Hähnlein, said that Dr. Kroemer’s idea was not possible, that the most that could be done was to build a transistor in which the emitter had a wider energy gap than the base.

But Dr. Kroemer thought that a wider energy gap could be created by either introducing impurities into the semiconductor materials, a process called doping, or by making the collectors and emitters out of different materials altogether, which is the common method used today.

The idea for the heterostructure had been born.

Dr. Kroemer published one paper about his ideas in 1954 and two more in 1957. It would take a couple of decades before the technology existed to build good heterostructure transistors. In the meantime, he moved on to other projects.

In 1963, Dr. Kroemer, then at Varian Associates, a company in Palo Alto, Calif., that made electromagnetic equipment, had a reason to revisit the idea. A colleague there, Sol Miller, gave a lecture on semiconductor lasers, which had been developed the year before. Dr. Miller said that the lasers had two drawbacks: They needed low temperatures, and the pulses they emitted would always be limited, meaning their energy would also be limited.

As soon as Dr. Miller finished speaking, Dr. Kroemer rose and said, “‘But that’s a pile of nonsense,’” he recounted in his Nobel lecture. “Actually, I used some stronger language.”

What Dr. Kroemer realized was that if a semiconductor laser was built from two different materials, each with heterostructure properties, it would overcome the problems that Dr. Miller had outlined.

Dr. Kroemer wrote up his idea and submitted it to the journal Applied Physics Letters, which rejected it. But he was persuaded to submit it to Proceedings of the IEEE, a journal primarily geared toward engineering, and it was accepted. He filed for a patent in 1967.

The idea eventually led to the development of laser diodes, which underlie many of today’s most widely used technologies, including fiber-optic cables, satellite communications and bar-code readers.

It was for this work that he and Zhores I. Alferov, a Russian scientist who had independently developed a similar technology, were jointly awarded half of the Nobel. The other half went to Jack S. Kilby, an American scientist, for the development of the integrated circuit.

Herbert Kroemer was born on Aug. 25, 1928, in the city of Weimar, Germany, the eldest of three brothers. His father was a civil servant and his mother took care of the home. Neither parent had finished high school, but they emphasized education for their children. (When Dr. Kroemer eventually decided to study physics, he recalled, his father asked what that was and whether he could make a living at it.)

The young Herbert displayed an immediate aptitude for math and physics, but he was also bored and disruptive. In math, he got into trouble by teaching some other students methods that they did not understand, whereupon the teacher made a deal with him: If he would refrain from disrupting the class, he did not have to turn in any work and would be guaranteed a top grade. He stuck to the deal.

After high school, he entered the University of Jena, about 15 miles southeast of Weimar. The entire region, which lay in East Germany, was by then under the jurisdiction of the Soviet Union, and Dr. Kroemer, like many students and professors, chafed under the restrictive government. After only a year, he decided to leave.

This was in 1948, during the Berlin Blockade, when the Allies were flying supplies into West Berlin after the Soviets had cut off railway, road and canal access. Dr. Kroemer, who had worked for the summer at Siemens, the technology company, stood in line for two days at the airport, then flew out on a British plane.

Before he left, he had written to several universities seeking admission. He eventually found a spot at the University of Göttingen, where he was tutored by Fritz Sauter, who specialized in solid-state physics. After Dr. Kroemer gave a colloquium on a new idea relating to transistors, Dr. Sauter suggested that he submit his paper for his master’s in theoretical physics. A year later, in 1952, Dr. Kroemer obtained his Ph.D.

After Varian Associates, he worked for Semiconductor Research and Development Laboratory in San Jose, Calif. In 1968, he joined the faculty of the University of Colorado as a professor of electrical engineering. He joined the University of California, Santa Barbara, again as a professor of electrical engineering, in 1976 and finished his career there in 2012. He spent a good deal of time during his academic work developing and refining heterostructures.

Dr. Kroemer and his wife, Marie Louise Kroemer, had met at Göttingen, where she was a student. They had five children. Information about his survivors was not immediately available.

Though Dr. Kroemer did much of his groundbreaking research while working in private industry, he noted somewhat ruefully in his Nobel lecture that he had not been able to develop laser diodes, for example, because the companies he worked for initially saw no value in the idea. The problem, he said, was that people often want immediate uses for new technology.

“It is totally pointless when it comes to a new research idea to ask, ‘Well, what is it good for?’” he said, “because very often the applications have to be created first.”

It was all very polite.

Ambassadors, billionaires, a smattering of Biden family members and even one former president were all in attendance at the fifth state dinner President Biden and Jill Biden, the first lady, have held since taking office.

The gauzy celebration leaned heavily into Japanese fans, cherry blossoms and other tokens of the softer side of the U.S.-Japan relationship. The substance of the state visit of Prime Minister Fumio Kishida was focused on finding ways to counter China, but the style of the dinner was all about highlighting a capital city that owes its springtime resplendence, in large part, to the diplomatic overtures of the Japanese.

As the dinner got underway in the East Room, Mr. Biden toasted “to our alliance, to our friendship.” He kept things similarly light earlier in the evening when he greeted Mr. Kishida at the White House, replying, “Thank you,” to a question from a reporter about expectations that Iran would retaliate against Israel for its strike on an Iranian target in Syria.

Mr. Kishida also leaned into the idea of friendship.

“The Pacific Ocean does not separate Japan and the United States. Rather, it unites us,” Mr. Kishida said during his dinner toast, noting that President Kennedy once said the same thing 60 years ago. “I like this line. I use it so many times that my staff tried to delete it.”

The heavy-handed symbolic gestures were returned by the Bidens. Naomi Biden Neal, the eldest presidential granddaughter who was married at the White House in 2022, arrived in a dress with cherry blossoms printed on it.

Dr. Biden wore a sapphire ombre-effect dress by the designer Oscar de la Renta. Finnegan Biden, another Biden granddaughter, was seated at the head table with her grandparents.

Attendees leaned heavily into pleasantries. Even Rahm Emanuel, the swear-prone ambassador to Japan, was putting his talents toward the art of polite dinner conversation: In an interview, he said he spent some of his visit to Washington helping Paul Simon, the night’s musical guest, figure out how to greet Mr. Kishida in Japanese.

Ashley Biden, the president’s eldest daughter, politely but quickly drifted away from the cameras after telling reporters about her dress. On Tuesday, a Florida woman was sentenced to jail for selling Ms. Biden’s private diary to a right-wing activist group. But outside worries rarely come between a Biden and a state dinner invitation. Ms. Biden’s brother, Hunter, attended a state dinner while under federal investigation last year.

As he entered the festivities against a backdrop of giant painted fans, President Bill Clinton pointed joyfully at a portrait of his wife, Hillary Clinton, the former first lady, former secretary of state and 2016 Democratic presidential candidate. Mrs. Clinton, standing next to her husband in a fuchsia-and-gold caftan, beamed.

“Oh, we’re having a good time tonight,” Mrs. Clinton said to reporters.

The Clintons had been part of a group of attendees invited to the upstairs Yellow Oval Room, where Biden cabinet officials and several diplomatic guests joined in a toast, given in English, by Mr. Kishida, and mingled on the Truman Balcony.

“How pretty is this? This is so pretty!” Gina Raimondo, the commerce secretary, said with a sweeping gesture as she breezed by reporters on her way inside.

At times, the unseemly (compared with cherry blossoms, anyway) business of politics crept in. But several attendees seemed less than excited to talk about Mr. Biden’s re-election campaign — or the issues facing it — when asked. Janet Yellen, the Treasury secretary, ducked a question about inflation on her way into the dinner.

The billionaire Jeff Bezos arrived with his fiancée, Lauren Sánchez, and did not say whether he planned to donate to Mr. Biden’s campaign. Neither did Tim Cook, the chief executive of Apple, when asked the same question.

The actor Robert De Niro, who arrived with his girlfriend, Tiffany Chen, did not answer reporters who asked if he was prepared to campaign for Mr. Biden. Mr. De Niro, 80, was at a recent high-dollar fund-raiser for the Biden campaign in New York City. (He and Ms. Chen are also parents to a 1-year-old — there are worse ways to spend a date night.)

Cecile Richards, the former president of Planned Parenthood, paused to talk with reporters about the importance of spotlighting reproductive rights ahead of the election in November. This week, the Arizona Supreme Court upheld a near-total ban on abortions from the 1800s.

“We’ve made such strides,” Ms. Richards said. “Just to have it all taken away has been very motivating for women and for men.”

Gov. Tony Evers of Wisconsin, a Democrat, also reminded reporters about his state’s significance in November. “It’s going to make a difference between a win and a loss for the president,” Mr. Evers said before heading inside.

Kamala Harris, the vice president, arrived in spangled Valentino alongside Doug Emhoff, the second gentleman. She did not answer a question about Arizona.

As the evening wore on, there were distinct hints that political strategy and not just pleasantries would be on the menu alongside the caramel pistachio cake with matcha ganache, cherry ice cream and a selection of American wines.

Ms. Richards, Mr. De Niro and the Clintons were guests at the head table with the Bidens on Wednesday evening, along with Gov. Roy Cooper of North Carolina, a Democrat who joined a Biden campaign call last week to assail Republican-led abortion restrictions.

Soon after the attack on Pearl Harbor in 1941, Marian Sousa moved to California to care for the children of her sister Phyllis Gould, who had gone to work as a welder in a Bay Area shipyard.

Just a year later, Ms. Sousa, at 17 years old, joined the wartime work force herself, drafting blueprints and revising outdated designs for troop transports. Wearing a hard hat and with a clipboard in hand, she would accompany maritime inspectors on board ships she’d helped design and examine the product of her labors.

She and her sister were just two of the roughly 6 million women who went to work during World War II, memorialized by the now iconic recruitment poster depicting Rosie the Riveter, her hair tied back in a kerchief, rolling up the sleeve of her denim shirt and flexing a muscle beneath the slogan, “We can do it!”

More than eight decades later, Ms. Sousa, now 98, gathered at the Capitol on Wednesday with around two dozen other so-called Rosies — many of them white-haired and most wearing the red with white polka dots made famous by the poster — to receive the Congressional Gold Medal in honor of their efforts.

“We never thought we’d be recognized,” Ms. Sousa said in an interview. “Just never thought — we were just doing the job for the country and earning money on the side.”

Congress passed legislation authorizing the medal in 2020, after years of urging by Ms. Gould, who died in 2021, and another Rosie, Mae Krier, who accepted the award on Wednesday on behalf of all Rosies in front of a crowd of roughly 600, including congressional leaders.

“Up until 1941, it was a man’s world. They didn’t know how capable us women were, did they?” Ms. Krier said on Wednesday, to cheers. “We’re so proud of the women and young girls who are following in our lead. I think that’s one of the greatest things we’ve left behind, is what we’ve done for women.”

The Rosies went to work out of necessity. During the war, women were desperately needed to fill jobs vacated by men who had left to serve in the armed forces. Shortly after graduating high school, Ms. Sousa took a six-week course in engineering drawing at the University of California, Berkeley, and answered the call.

“It was a time when everybody went to work,” she said. “This was a time when the United States was truly united, in one effort. We wanted to get the war over with and bring the guys back.”

Many women were forced out of their jobs when the men returned after the war. Still, the experience shaped the rest of their lives and demonstrated that women could do work that had been traditionally reserved for men.

“These enterprising and patriotic women answered the call to serve on the home front during World War II, and forever changed the role of women in the work force,” Senator Susan Collins, Republican of Maine and a lead sponsor of the legislation, said during Wednesday’s ceremony.

Ms. Krier, who spent years pressing for a National Rosie the Riveter Day, built B-17 and B-29 bomber aircraft at a Boeing factory in Seattle during the war. She turned 98 on March 21 — the date Congress has designated National Rosie the Riveter Day.

“I think they got sick and tired of hearing from me — it’s been going on for years,” Ms. Krier said in an interview about her efforts to win broader recognition for the Rosies. “It’s just wonderful to finally get the award.”

Gloria McCormack, 99, attended the ceremony with her daughter, granddaughter and two grandsons. A week after graduating high school in 1942, Ms. McCormack got an engineering job at an Ohio defense plant manufacturing machine guns and shipping them overseas to Allied forces.

She recalled going to the plant every day with her father, who worked at a nearby steel factory, and conducting time studies on machine guns alongside other teenage girls and military wives. At lunch time, Ms. McCormack recalled in an interview, she and “the girls” went across the street to a restaurant that had a jukebox.

“We put nickels in it and did the jitterbug,” she said. “We danced all through our lunch hour.”

Velma Long, 106, earned a Bachelor of Science degree and worked as a clerk typist for the Navy in Washington during the war. She remembers being the only Black woman in her office at the time, and receiving letters from her older brother, who was deployed overseas, with sentences blotted out.

“I feel honored — and I feel I deserve to be,” said Ms. Long, who went on to take more courses and become a social worker after the war, about receiving the Congressional Gold Medal.

Senator Bob Casey, Democrat of Pennsylvania, credited Ms. Krier’s activism with ensuring that the history of the Rosies would not be forgotten.

“We all know the iconic image of Rosie the Riveter, but for too long, the remarkable women she represents did not get the recognition they deserve,” Mr. Casey, who sponsored legislation to honor the Rosies, said during Wednesday’s ceremony. “World War II would not have been won if it weren’t for the Rosies at home.”

Ms. Krier, for her part, had a message for the young girls of today:

“Remember these four little words: We can do it!”

Global capacity to generate power from coal, one of the most polluting fossil fuels, grew in 2023, driven by a wave of new plants coming online in China that coincided with a slowing pace of retirements of older plants in the United States and Europe.

The findings came in an annual report by Global Energy Monitor, a nonprofit organization that tracks energy projects around the world. The last time the group found coal capacity to have grown was in 2019.

Coal’s heavy greenhouse gas footprint has prompted calls for it to be rapidly phased out as a source of energy, and all of the world’s countries have broadly agreed to reduce their dependence on coal. But industrializing economies, particularly in Asian countries with inexpensive access to domestic coal reserves, have set longer horizons for their transitions.

China alone accounted for two-thirds of the world’s newly operating coal plants last year. Indonesia, India, Vietnam, Japan, Bangladesh, Pakistan and South Korea also inaugurated new plants, which typically operate for two to three decades.

One silver lining is that new coal plants are generally less polluting than older ones, but scientists, climate researchers and activists agree that moving away from not just coal, but all fossil fuels, has to happen as soon as possible to avoid the most dire consequences of global warming.

“Right now, coal’s future is a two-part story: What do we do about currently operating coal plants, and then, how do we make sure the last coal plant that will ever exist is one that’s already built,” said Flora Champenois, one of the authors of the report. “If it weren’t for the China boom, that’s pretty much where we’d already be.”

China, and, to a lesser extent, India, are still planning to build coal plants many years from now. In 2023, new coal plant construction hit an eight-year high in China. If China were to build all the others it has proposed, it would add the equivalent of one-third of its current operating fleet.

Today, China accounts for around 60 percent of the world’s coal use, followed by India and then the United States. India relies most intensively on coal, with 80 percent of its electricity generation derived from it.

The flip side of the growth in coal is a slowdown in plant retirements in Western economies. Fewer were decommissioned in 2023 than in any year for the past decade. Phasing out all operating coal plants by 2040 would require closing an average of about two coal plants per week.

Analysts said the slowdown in 2023 may have been temporary, as the United States, Britain and European Union countries have set various targets to close all their existing coal plants well before 2040. The International Energy Agency’s modeling suggests that, to align with the goal of limiting global warming to 1.5 degrees Celsius over preindustrial levels, rich countries should phase out coal by 2030 and it should be eliminated everywhere else by 2040.

“We had said that 2024 was the year coal would peak,” said Carlos Torres Diaz, a senior vice president at Rystad Energy. “But right now, I would say it’s not clear we’ll hit that. We’re near it, in any case.”

Western countries relied on coal for well over a century, which is why, in no small part, they account for the majority of historical greenhouse gas emissions.

In an attempt to balance financial responsibility for the energy transition, richer countries have pooled tens of billions of dollars in loans to some coal-reliant developing countries like Indonesia, Vietnam and South Africa to help them build out renewable energy so as to transition more quickly away from coal. For now, however, much of that money remains undisbursed as stakeholders iron out disagreements.

For many developing countries, coal has one major advantage: It’s cheap. It’s price has also proved less volatile than oil and gas, the other major fossil fuels used in electricity production.

Bangladesh, for instance, had been building up its gas capacity. But fluctuations in price and availability, stemming largely from shocks related to the war in Ukraine, have prompted a rethink and a reinvestment in coal.

The same dynamic is, to some extent, true in China, analysts said. The pandemic’s toll on China’s economy has made its utilities more likely to opt for the cheapest fuel: coal.

China also leads the world in renewable energy expansion. That growth far outpaces coal’s growth, and in some cases is tied to it. China’s government says that much of the coal it uses or plans to use would serve as a fallback for times when renewable production dips and the grid requires more energy.

“While the data isn’t totally clear from China, it is possible that while there may be more coal plants there could also be lower utilization of them,” Mr. Diaz said. “But when it comes to coal, given that China is such an overwhelming part, whatever happens there really defines the global trend.”

Are you ready for the Jane Goodall Experience?

It’s getting ready for you.

“Dr. Jane’s Dream,” an immersive spectacle by former Walt Disney Imagineers and African artisans celebrating the groundbreaking English primatologist and environmental activist, is taking form in a cultural complex in Tanzania.

Its debut, in the safari gateway of Arusha, between Mount Kilimanjaro and Serengeti National Park, is planned around World Chimpanzee Day, July 14, 2025 — 65 years since Goodall, then a 26-year-old novice researcher chaperoned by her mother, landed at the Gombe forest reserve to begin her field work for the anthropologist Louis Leakey.

Within months she upended scientific doctrine by observing an adult male chimp she called David Greybeard raid a termite mound, stripping leaves from a hollow branch to extract and eat the insects. The making and using of tools was long thought a hallmark of humans.

Since then, the nonstop Goodall, who turned 90 on April 3 during a typically exhausting American tour, has been lionized (or aped) in books and movies. She’s a Dame Commander of the Order of the British Empire and a United Nations Messenger of Peace. And champion of a global crusade of young people and celebrities from Prince Harry to Leonardo DiCaprio fighting deforestation, climate change, pollution and factory farming.

Her nonprofit Jane Goodall Institute in the U.S. is projected to raise $30 million this year, with additional millions raised by the other 25 chapters worldwide, a spokesman said. Her youth movement, Roots and Shoots, is operating in 70 countries.

But she has never been presented like this — in an immersive tribute by African artists and Disney veterans. Disney has called Imagineering the “blending of creative imagination with technical know-how.” But “Dr. Jane’s Dream” is not a Disney project; rather, it taps into storytelling techniques by some of its former innovators.

At “Dr. Jane’s Dream,” Goodall said in New York last week, “There’s a tent where my mom and I were and two little peepholes looking out into the world of the chimps.” Visitors will be challenged. “They go into this dream world and are going to have to investigate. It’s like an adventure.”

Goodall is now on one of her globe-circling jaunts that keep her on the road some 300 days a year. She flew in from the West Coast at the end of March and after Canada and a few days back home in her native Bournemouth on the English Channel, she is booked to Europe, Africa, Australia, South America and Asia.

Since Jan. 12, she calculated, she has slept in her own bed five nights.

On April 2, Goodall was on East 54th Street at the Hotel Elysée with its Monkey Bar — a coincidence, she insisted — along with the fact that her top floor suite had been the last abode of the playwright Tennessee Williams, who died there in 1983 at 71, choking on the cap of a bottle of barbiturates.

Her latest project, “Dr. Jane’s Dream,” is unfolding at the Arusha Cultural Heritage Center, opened in 1994 by Saifudin Khanbhai, whose great-grandfather from India established a trading outpost in British colonial Tanganyika in the 1800s.

Khanbhai offered Goodall a location on the five-acre heritage site, amid a complex of half a dozen buildings and four huts displaying the work of some 3,000 artists and jewelers and showcasing the region’s unique blue gemstone, Tanzanite.

“We just connected so well,” Khanbhai said in an interview. “I’m a man of chemistry. If it works it works.”

Her building’s shell of round drumlike forms is already up, with the interior exhibits coming over the next year.

“Basically, she is getting the deep storytelling, design and immersiveness of Disney Imagineering because — well, we adore Jane,” said Tom Acomb, an architect with his own firm, AOA, and a former Imagineer who teamed up with colleagues including Joe Rohde, creator of Disney’s Animal Kingdom Theme Park in Florida, to donate hundreds of thousands of dollars of free design services for “Dr. Jane’s Dream.”

But Acomb said, “Disney has nothing to do with the project, nor is any technology of theirs deployed in any way. What is in the mix is a process — the process that was unique to Disney Imagineering’s ability to tell a story.” He said they still did support work for Disney when called upon.

The idea, Rohde explained, was to create “much more of an experience center than an expository center.”

“What we’re trying to do,” he added, “is sort of take all the feelings and emotions that made Jane Goodall Jane Goodall and transfer that into a series of objects and encounters.”

It was not so much “about” Goodall, he noted, as “feeling her.”

He said it would feature a kiosk with a recording of Goodall translating chimp cries into English; a ceiling of 800 leaflike tiles painted by various African artists, models of animals wrapped in information about them (requiring close study by visitors, just as Goodall had to closely study her subjects); and elaborately carved and painted tree trunks in a style of artmaking called Makonde.

And, of course, the famous termite mound.

“Rather than just telling people that this is the way chimps fish for food,” Rohde said, “we want to compel people to do something like what the chimps do — use these little probes to stimulate something within the termite mound. You’re not learning about what chimps do — you’re learning what they do.

“It’s a very Jane Goodall thing.”

To keep “Dr. Jane’s Dream” maintainable locally, it will limit fancy technology, and allow for improvisation, Rohde said.

“It’s going to be what it becomes as the artists make it.”

Born in London in 1934, Goodall grew up cherishing animals, even, as a not-yet-2-year-old, taking earthworms to bed with her. Her mother, Vanne, convinced her that the worms would do better in the ground. At 4½ she lost herself in the henhouse trying to figure out where eggs came from.

Her parents separated when she was little and, amid Nazi bombings, she relocated with her mother and younger sister to her grandmother’s home in Bournemouth. The first book she read was “The Story of Dr. Dolittle,” about a country physician who talks to the animals. Another early book, “Tarzan of the Apes” left her jealous, she remembers: “He marries the wrong Jane.”

Set on visiting Africa, Goodall saved her waitressing money and, at 23 in 1957, sailed to Kenya where, though lacking a college degree, she sought out Leakey who with his wife, Mary, was excavating early human fossils in Olduvai Gorge, Tanzania.

One day at the site, out walking with another assistant, Gillian Trace, and the Leakeys’ two protective Dalmatians, Toots and Bottom-Biter, Goodall noticed they were being trailed by a young male lion. The dogs, off leash, were busy chasing a mouse.

“Gillian wanted to hide in the vegetation at the bottom of the gorge,” she recalled last week. “I said no, the lion would know where we are, we won’t know where the lion is. We have to climb up on the plains so the lion could see us. I had this firm belief that animals wouldn’t hurt us if we are not a threat to them.”

Goodall said she was less worried about the lion than coming back to Mary Leakey without the Dalmatians.

Afterward, Louis Leakey, impressed, offered her a job studying chimpanzees for clues to man’s earliest ancestors. She became one of his three ape mentees, “the trimates,” who also included Dian Fossey on gorillas and Birutė Galdikas on orangutans. Fossey would be murdered in Rwanda in 1985.

Goodall returned to England but sailed back to Africa with her mother in 1960 to begin her research in Gombe, on Lake Tanganyika.

Alone in the jungle with only their cook, both were felled by malaria. Her mother nearly died. “We just lay in our beds and handed the thermometer back and forth,” Goodall recalled. Somehow, without quinine, they recovered.

She tried repeatedly to make contact with the chimps but they remained aloof, as recorded by an old movie camera she propped up in a tree fork.

Until, after nearly four months, David Greybeard let her get close enough as he made his tool of the tree branch.

“It was held in the left hand, poked into the ground, and then removed coated with termites,” she recorded in her field book. “The straw was then raised to the mouth and the insects picked off with the lips, along the length of the straw, starting in the middle.”

Goodall said she knew immediately that her breakthrough would thrill Leakey. He cabled back: “Now we must redefine ‘tool,’ redefine ‘man’ or accept chimpanzees as human.”

But Goodall also observed the primates in warfare and cannibalism — along with manifestations of empathy and communal rearing of offspring orphaned by poachers. At a waterfall, she observed chimps dancing as if in religious awe.

Sergio Almécija, senior research scientist in primates and human evolution at the American Museum of Natural History, said Goodall revolutionized the way we understand primates and other animals — “like the transition from radio to color TV.”

Starting in 1961, Goodall returned periodically to Cambridge for what became four years of doctoral studies in ethology. “I was told you must focus on feeding behavior or maternal behavior, but not everything,” she recalled.

She focused on everything. She also rejected complaints that she was giving names, not just numbers, to her chimp subjects and recognizing their humanlike traits.

When National Geographic sent a renowned Dutch wildlife photographer, Baron Hugo van Lawick, to Gombe in 1962 to document an irresistible story — a young Englishwoman among the apes — a romance blossomed. They married in London in 1964 and had a child, Hugo Eric Louis, nicknamed Grub. (Now a house builder in Africa and Latin America, he has two sons and a daughter, Goodall’s grandchildren, who work on some of her projects.)

A slowdown in assignments sent van Lawick in search of work in the Serengeti and he and Goodall divorced in 1974. A year later she married the Tanzanian national parks director, Derek Bryceson. He died of cancer in 1980, when Goodall was 46.

In 1986, she helped organize a conference in Chicago, and was shocked to learn how deforestation and pollution were decimating animal populations.

“I went to the conference as a scientist and I left as an activist,” she said.

After revelations of terrible conditions at the Brazzaville zoo in the Republic of Congo, she persuaded the American oil company Conoco to help build a chimp sanctuary in that country. She convinced leading research laboratories like Harvard’s that chimps, after all, made poor models for medical experimentation to benefit humans. Many long-captive animals were released to sanctuaries (though ape-trafficking remained rampant).

She widened her focus to human behavior as well, and became a vegan. “How can we even save the precious chimpanzees,” she asked, “when people all around are struggling to survive?”

Some of her favorite stuffed animals that she carries around in her hand luggage sat last week on a mantle in her New York hotel room: Mr. H, a monkey from a blinded United States Marine, Gary Haun, who became a proficient magician, skier and sky diver; Pigcasso, a South African pig taught to create artworks with a paintbrush in her mouth; an octopus from the movie “My Octopus Teacher”; and Rattie, an African pouched rat trained to detect land mines.

Two other items were away on display at a National Geographic Museum traveling exhibition called “Becoming Jane: The Evolution of Dr. Jane Goodall” — a piece of the Berlin Wall and a limestone rock from Nelson Mandela’s Robben Island prison.

All symbols, Goodall says, of her mantra — hope.

“I’m seeing humanity as at the mouth of a very long dark tunnel,” she said, “and right at the end is a little star — that’s hope. But in order to get there we’ve got to roll up our sleeves and climb under and crawl over all the obstacles that lie in the path, like climate change, and loss of biodiversity. And a very important one is poverty. We must alleviate poverty because really poor people destroy the environment to survive.”

In her hotel suite, the living room lights and brass chandelier were lit. A photo of Tennessee Williams glistened in a vitrine.

Goodall was in a bedroom, resting her eyes from her travels and lectures into the spotlights. Suddenly, for no apparent reason, the chandelier began to sway.

Goodall didn’t seem surprised to hear of it. Once, she said, staying in another suite on the same floor, she had seen an apparition.

Did she believe in a hereafter?

There’s either nothing or there’s something, she said. Finding out the answer would be “the next great adventure.”

The White House invited more than 200 guests to the state dinner hosted by President Biden for Prime Minister Fumio Kishida on Wednesday night, including business executives, union leaders, athletes and prominent Japanese Americans. Here is the full list of those invited as provided by the White House.

THE PRESIDENT AND DR. BIDEN

HIS EXCELLENCY FUMIO KISHIDA, PRIME MINISTER OF JAPAN, and MRS. YUKO KISHIDA

Akiba Takeo, national security adviser of Japan

Arima Yutaka, director-general of North American affairs, Ministry of Foreign Affairs

Ayase

Ajay Banga, president of the World Bank, and Ritu Banga

John Bass, acting under secretary for Political Affairs at the State Department, and Audrey Hsieh

Stephen K. Benjamin, assistant to the president, and Jordan Grace Benjamin

Anthony R. Bernal, assistant to the president and senior adviser to Jill Biden, and Brian Mosteller

Jeff Bezos, founder of Amazon, and Lauren Sánchez

Ashley Biden and Howard Krein

Finnegan Biden

Naomi Biden Neal and Peter Neal

Mayor Richard T. Bissen Jr. of Maui County, Hawaii, and Isabella Bissen

Secretary of State Antony J. Blinken and Evan M. Ryan, assistant to the president and the White House cabinet secretary

Neil Bluhm and Leslie Bluhm

Brent Booker, president of the Laborers’ International Union of North America, and Katherine Booker

Gen. Charles Q. Brown Jr., chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff, and Sharene Brown

William J. Burns, director of the C.I.A., and Sarah Burns

Kurt M. Campbell, deputy secretary of state, and Lael Brainard, assistant to the president and director of the National Economic Council

Former President Bill Clinton and former Secretary of State Hillary Clinton

David Cohen, C.I.A. deputy director, and Suzy Friedman Cohen

Tim Cook, chief executive of Apple, and Lisa Jackson

Gov. Roy Cooper of North Carolina and Kristin Cooper

Representative Diana DeGette, Democrat of Colorado, and Lino Lipinsky de Orlov

Robert De Niro and Tiffany Chen

Jamie Dimon, chief executive of JPMorgan Chase, and Judy Dimon

Mike Donilon and Patricia Donilon

Ilana Emanuel

Rahm Emanuel, U.S. ambassador to Japan, and Amy Rule

Zachariah Emanuel

Gov. Tony Evers of Wisconsin and Kathy Evers

Fred Eychaner and Danny Leung

Shawn Fain, president of the United Automobile Workers, and Stella Fain

Jon Finer, assistant to the president and deputy national security adviser, and T.J. Fadel

Larry Fink, chairman and chief executive of BlackRock

Bill Freeman and Tom Loftis

Funabashi Yoichi

Funakoshi Takehiro, senior deputy minister for foreign affairs

Susie Gelman and Michael Gelman

Xochitl Gonzalez and Daniel Lubrano

Robert Goodman and Jayne Lipman

Philip Gordon, assistant to the president and national security adviser to the vice president, and Rebecca Lissner, deputy assistant to the president and deputy national security adviser to the vice president

Adm. Chris Grady, vice chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff, and Christine Grady

Jennifer Granholm, energy secretary, and Daniel Mulhern

Jon Gray and Mindy Gray

Rene Haas

Avril D. Haines, director of national intelligence, and David Davighi

Senator Bill Hagerty, Republican of Tennessee, and Chrissy Hagerty

Mayor Bruce Harrell of Seattle and Joanne Harrell

Vice President Kamala Harris and Doug Emhoff

Senator Mazie K. Hirono, Democrat of Hawaii, and Leighton Kim Oshima

Amos Hochstein, senior adviser for energy and investment, National Security Council, and Rae Ringel

Gov. Kathy Hochul of New York and William Hochul

Hosaka Shin, vice minister for international affairs, Ministry of Economy, Trade and Industry

Hoshide Akihiko

Amos Hostetter and Barbara Hostetter

Iijima Isao, special adviser to the prime minister and cabinet

Ikuta Lilas

Amabel B. James and Ryan Petersen

Representative Hakeem Jeffries, Democrat of New York and the minority leader, and Kennisandra Jeffries

Kamikawa Yoko, minister for foreign affairs

Katahira Satoshi

Katanozaka Shinya

Tony Kawai

Kobayashi Ken

Arvind Krishna and Sonia Krishna

Daniel J. Kritenbrink, assistant secretary for East Asian and Pacific Affairs, and Nami Kritenbrink

Kunieda Shingo

Megan Myungwon Lee and Jeff Werner

Mark Macarro, tribal chairman of the Pechanga Band of Luiseño Indians, and Holly Macarro

Maeda Tadashi

Judy Marks and Chris Kearney

Representative Doris Matsui, Democrat of California, and Roger Sant

Alejandro N. Mayorkas, homeland security secretary, and Tanya Mayorkas

David McCall and Donna McCall

Sanjay Mehrotra and Sangeeta Mehrotra

Senator Jeff Merkley, Democrat of Oregon, and Brynne Merkley

Mikitani Hiroshi

Moriyama Masahito, minister of education, culture, sports, science and technology

Murai Hideki, deputy chief cabinet secretary

Ellen Nakashima and Alan Sipress

Mira Nakashima and Jonathan Yarnall

Niki Nakayama and Carole Iida-Nakayama

Bill Nelson, NASA administrator, and Grace Nelson

Niinami Takeshi

Kelly O’Donnell and J. David Ake

Okina Yuri

Ono Keiichi, senior deputy minister for foreign affairs

Otsuru Tetsuya, executive secretary to the prime minister

Thomas E. Perez, assistant to the president, and Ann Marie Staudenmaier

John D. Podesta, senior adviser to the president for clean energy innovation, and Mae Podesta

Jerome Powell, chair of the Federal Reserve, and Elissa Leonard

Natalie H. Quillian, assistant to the president and deputy chief of staff, and Ryan Quillian

Gina Raimondo, commerce secretary, and Andy Moffit

Mira Rapp-Hooper, special assistant to the president, and Matthew Brest

Bruce N. Reed, assistant to the president and deputy chief of staff, and Bonnie LePard

Lynda Resnick and Stewart Resnick

Steve Ricchetti, assistant to the president, and Amy Ricchetti

Cecile Richards and Kirk Adams

Robert Roche and Ritsuko Hattori-Roche

Josh Rogin and Ali Rogin

Ethan Rosenzweig, State Department acting chief of protocol

Michael J. Sacks and Cari Sacks

Saito Ken, minister of economy, trade and industry

Sawada Jun

Serizawa Kiyoshi, vice minister of defense, international affairs

Gov. Josh Shapiro of Pennsylvania and Lori Shapiro

Alex Hideo Shibutani

Maia Harumi Shibutani

Shikata Noriyuki, cabinet secretary for public affairs for the prime minister’s office

Shimada Takashi, executive secretary to the prime minister

Brad Smith and Gregory Smith

Masayoshi Son, the chief executive of SoftBank

Robert Michael Stavis and Amy Stavis

Jake Sullivan, national security adviser, and Maggie Goodlander

Katherine Tai, U.S. trade representative, and Robert Skidmore

Representative Mark Takano, Democrat of California, and Glen Fukushima

Linda Thomas-Greenfield, U.S. ambassador to the United Nations, and Lafayette Greenfield II

Representative Jill Tokuda, Democrat of Hawaii, and Susan Morita

Maria D. Toler and Casey Albert

Annie Tomasini, assistant to the president and deputy chief of staff, and Ray Tomasini

Ueno Yukiko

Pranay Vaddi, special assistant to the president, and Megan Vaddi

Richard Verma, deputy secretary of state for management and resources, and Zoe Verma

Lorraine A. Voles, assistant to the president and chief of staff to the vice president, and Ruby Smith

Kent Walker and Diana Walsh

Mark Walter and Kimbra Walter

Steven Westly and Anita Yu Westly

Eugene Woods and Lauren Wooden

Yamada Shigeo, ambassador extraordinary and plenipotentiary of Japan to the United States

Kristi Yamaguchi, former figure skater, and Yukiko Saegusa

Yamamoto Takayoshi, executive secretary to the prime minister of Japan

Janet L. Yellen, Treasury secretary, and Wally Adeyemo, deputy Treasury secretary

David Zapolsky and Lynn Hubbard

Jeffrey D. Zients, assistant to the president and chief of staff to the president, and Mary Zients

Days after saying that abortion policies should be left to the states, former President Donald J. Trump on Wednesday criticized an Arizona court ruling for upholding an 1864 law that banned nearly all abortions and said he would not sign a national abortion ban if he were elected president.

Speaking to reporters on an airport tarmac in Atlanta, Mr. Trump said he expected that the Arizona law would be “straightened out.” He also said he expected that a six-week abortion ban in Florida that he has criticized was “probably, maybe going to change.”

Yet even as he suggested his disapproval with the circumstances in both states, Mr. Trump defended the position he took in a video statement on Monday, when he said that states should weigh in on abortion through legislation.

“It’s the will of the people. This is what I’ve been saying,” Mr. Trump said in Atlanta, where he had traveled for a fund-raiser. “It’s a perfect system.”

Mr. Trump’s comments, coming after his Monday statement, continued months of mixed signals on abortion, an issue that his campaign has worried could hurt him at the polls in November.

After the Supreme Court overturned Roe v. Wade in 2022 — a decision made possible by Mr. Trump’s appointment of three conservative justices to the bench — Democrats have made attacks against Mr. Trump on the issue central to their efforts to mobilize voters in November.

During campaign speeches and interviews, Mr. Trump often takes credit for appointing the justices and for, in effect, returning the issue of abortion to the states. But the Biden campaign and the Democrats have repeatedly laid the blame for strict state abortion laws on Mr. Trump, including the Florida ban, which the former president has called a “terrible mistake.”

Their efforts to tie him to stringent restrictions accelerated after his comments on Monday and after the Arizona court ruling on Tuesday, which said “all abortions, except those necessary to save a woman’s life, are illegal,” in accordance with a 160-year-old law.

Michael Tyler, a spokesman for the Biden campaign, said in a statement after Mr. Trump’s comments on Wednesday that Mr. Trump “owns the suffering and chaos happening right now, including in Arizona, because he proudly overturned Roe.”

Democrats have also used the ambiguity left by Mr. Trump’s state-focused position to suggest that he would be open to signing a federal abortion ban if he won in November, which anti-abortion groups have pushed for.

Mr. Trump, who has been trying to stake out a position on abortion that would animate his conservative base without turning off moderate voters, last month suggested he would be open to backing a 15-week federal ban with exceptions for rape, incest and life-threatening emergencies.

Mr. Trump, a Florida resident, has not yet said how he might vote this November on a ballot measure there that would enshrine abortion rights in the state’s Constitution. Of Arizona, he said the law was “going to definitely change,” adding, “Everybody wants that to happen. And you’re getting the will of the people. It’s been pretty amazing.”

He avoided expounding on his personal views later on Wednesday at a campaign stop at a Chick-fil-A restaurant in Atlanta. When asked by a reporter whether he believed doctors should be punished for providing abortions, Mr. Trump said that question should be left to the states.

“Those are the things that the states are going to make a determination about,” he said.

As Representative Ruben Gallego campaigned for Arizona’s vital Senate seat last week, he did something that might seem unusual to those who know him as a fierce liberal combatant: He struck a moderate tone.

Speaking to retirees in Goodyear, a politically divided Phoenix suburb, Mr. Gallego, a Democrat, addressed the surge of migrants at the border, suggesting that the asylum system was “being abused” and calling for more support for Border Patrol agents so they could “really focus on those bad guys.”

It was a shift from the Ruben Gallego of years past, when he slammed former President Donald J. Trump’s border wall plans as “stupid” and accused him of “scapegoating immigrants.” The new message — stemming in part from an intensifying crisis under a far different president — represented a tacit acknowledgment that winning over Arizona voters may require a slide toward the middle.

Delicately turning to the political center is a time-honored tradition for candidates of both parties. But Mr. Gallego, who represents a liberal district in Phoenix and has a long history of identifying as a progressive, could face a tougher challenge than most in redefining himself in a battleground state with a decades-old conservative bent — even after a major court decision on abortion this week put Democrats firmly on offense in the state.

“In this era of hyper-partisanship — and there will be national money flooding into Arizona in this Senate race — people will be flinging stereotypes around like crazy,” said Janet Napolitano, a Democrat who served two terms as the state’s governor in the 2000s.

Ms. Napolitano, who noted that Mr. Gallego’s status as a Marine Corps veteran could help him, said that to win statewide as a Democrat, he needed to demonstrate that “you’re there to problem-solve, and you’re there to work hard, and you’re there to represent all Arizonans.”

Mr. Gallego does have several key advantages in Arizona, though.

A ruling on Tuesday from the State Supreme Court, which said an 1864 law that bans nearly all abortions could be reinstated, turbocharged Democrats’ attempts to put abortion at the center of the November election. That decision, combined with the likelihood that a ballot measure protecting abortion access will be on the ballot in Arizona, left Democrats hopeful of soaring liberal turnout.

Mr. Gallego is also poised to run against a Republican who is straining even harder to widen her appeal: Kari Lake, the former television anchor and Trump ally whose divisiveness and election lies helped lead to her narrow defeat in the 2022 governor’s race.

And Arizona has shifted blue in recent years, with Joseph R. Biden Jr. flipping the state in 2020 and a host of Democrats winning statewide elections: Senators Mark Kelly and Kyrsten Sinema, and Gov. Katie Hobbs, who beat Ms. Lake.

Those candidates, however, had spent more time crafting cautiously moderate, pragmatic images, while Mr. Gallego has built a reputation as a blunt-spoken liberal who is politically in tune with young progressives and lacerates his opponents with profane social media posts.

Mr. Gallego’s success could hinge on his ability to present a new side of himself to Arizonans. While Ms. Lake is widely known, Mr. Gallego is less well-defined in the state, giving him a chance to pitch himself as a no-nonsense veteran focused on local priorities like prescription drug prices and health care while highlighting her history as an election denier.

Mr. Gallego said that he was up for the challenge of appealing to voters of all political persuasions, and that he was reaching out to Republicans and visiting redder parts of Arizona.

“We’ve been going to not the easiest areas of the state when it comes to being a Democrat, but we’ll continue to do it,” he said in an interview last week. “I don’t see it as a move to the middle. We’re here to talk to voters, and we have to earn their support.”

At the same time, Ms. Lake and her allies are highlighting some of Mr. Gallego’s past votes and positions that they say are out of step with Arizonans, like his cosponsoring of a bill that would have established a “Medicare for all” universal health care program; his enthusiasm for ending the filibuster in the Senate; his suggestion to “take a scalpel” to military spending; and his criticism of Mr. Trump’s border wall proposal.

“Ruben Gallego is a far-left progressive who has accomplished nothing for Arizona over his 10 years in Congress,” Alex Nicoll, a spokesman for Ms. Lake, said in a statement, pointing out that Mr. Gallego has voted with Mr. Biden 100 percent of the time.

Mr. Gallego has tried to parry these criticisms. His campaign noted that he had voted for tens of billions of dollars in appropriations bills over the years funding national security projects and hiring Border Patrol agents, and that he supported the bipartisan bill that would have tightened restrictions on the border but was tanked by Republicans this year.

Mr. Gallego also ended his membership in the Congressional Progressive Caucus last year, a move that was first reported by Politico. He said last week that he left the caucus because of the increased cost of dues, and did not directly respond when asked whether he still considered himself a progressive.

“These terms are kind of D.C. terms. I consider myself someone that’s been working very hard for Arizona,” he said. As for Republicans’ criticisms of his record, he challenged them to “bring it.”

Mr. Gallego, who is running unopposed for the Democratic nomination, has maintained a slim lead in most polls over Ms. Lake, who made baseless claims about election fraud in 2020 a key part of her 2022 campaign for governor, then filed lawsuits seeking to overturn her own defeat after she lost. Ms. Lake has a big lead over her main Republican challenger, Mark Lamb, a right-wing sheriff, ahead of the July 30 primary election. While she has a core of ardent supporters, she is laboring to earn the backing of more moderate Republicans.

Mr. Gallego has a financial edge, having out-raised Ms. Lake late last year and tallying $7.5 million in campaign contributions in the first three months of this year; she has not yet announced her total for the same time period. He entered the race well before her and has maintained a busy campaign schedule, vowing to visit all 22 federally recognized Native American tribes in Arizona before the election.

One of those visits occurred last week, when Mr. Gallego toured the Yavapai-Apache Nation reservation near Sedona. Courting the Native American voters who helped turn Arizona blue, he squelched through the mud and cottonwood trees on the bank of the Verde River while discussing the importance of tribal water rights with the chairwoman of the nation’s tribal council.

Mr. Gallego, a 44-year-old of Colombian and Mexican descent, has a compelling personal story. Growing up poor in Chicago, he worked a variety of jobs as a teenager while his single mother supported him and his three sisters on a secretary’s salary.

That helps him understand, he said, “what people are feeling right now, the frustration, the hurt, the feeling of betrayal.”

He attended Harvard, enlisted in the Marines and was deployed to Iraq, where his unit suffered heavy losses. Dozens of Marines were killed, including his best friend, and Mr. Gallego talks openly about suffering from post-traumatic stress disorder after returning home. He served in the Arizona Legislature before being elected to Congress in 2014.

There are also aspects of his life that Republicans view as damaging. He and his first wife, Kate Gallego, divorced in 2016, weeks before she gave birth to their child. A conservative news outlet is suing to unseal their divorce records and Ms. Lake has accused him of “abandoning his wife & baby.”

Ms. Gallego, now the mayor of Phoenix, has endorsed Mr. Gallego, who has since remarried and has said his P.T.S.D. contributed to their divorce. The pair are co-parenting their child, and Mr. Gallego said there was “nothing at all” that would come out of the divorce records.

Both Mr. Gallego and Ms. Lake say they are aggressively courting Arizona’s sizable populations of independent voters and moderates, some of whom felt left without a political home when Ms. Sinema announced last month that she would not run for re-election. Ms. Sinema’s office did not respond to a question about whether she would endorse Mr. Gallego.

With Ms. Lake continuing to hammer issues where Republicans have an edge among voters, like the border crisis, Mr. Gallego could have his work cut out for him among independents.

Jon Lindstrom, 77, a Democrat at the Goodyear event, said he was backing Mr. Gallego. But the congressman would have to work to earn others’ support, he suggested.

“I think when it comes to immigration, he’s going to have a challenge,” Mr. Lindstrom said.

The Department of Justice has weighed in on a court battle over an oil and gas pipeline in Wisconsin, saying that a Canadian oil company has been willfully trespassing on tribal lands in the state for more than a decade.

On Wednesday, lawyers for the Justice Department filed a brief saying that the company, Enbridge, “lacks any legal right to remain” on the land, part of a reservation of the Bad River Band, an Ojibwe group. But the brief largely sidestepped the question of whether a 1970s treaty between the United States and Canada gives Enbridge the right to operate the pipeline indefinitely, as the company asserts.

Enbridge is fighting demands by state, tribal and judicial authorities to shut down the pipeline known as Line 5, which crosses 645 miles of Wisconsin and Michigan, in lawsuits pending in federal appellate court in each state.

The cases are being watched closely by tribes that see them as important for their sovereignty as well as by states that want greater control over pipelines within their boundaries. Environmentalists in both states have raised concerns about the deteriorating condition of Line 5 and the company’s proposals to shore it up.

In December, the 7th Circuit Court of Appeals in Wisconsin asked Justice Department attorneys to submit an amicus brief specifically addressing the pipeline treaty.

But despite being asked to directly address the treaty, and after requesting multiple extensions, department lawyers essentially avoided the issue in their brief, saying that a lower court judge had “failed to adequately assess all of the public interests” related to the treaty issue.

The brief asserted that trade implications, diplomatic relations and tribal sovereignty were all factors the courts should reconsider.

In its filing, the Justice Department criticized a lower court decision from last year that ordered Enbridge pay $5 million in restitution to the Bad River Band, calling the sum a “paltry amount” that would fail to deter any company from trespassing on tribal land in the future.

Members of the Bad River Band said they were heartened at the DOJ’s clear reaffirmation of the trespass finding, but disappointed that they stopped short of calling for an immediate shut down of Line 5.

“Enbridge should be required to promptly leave our Reservation, just like other companies that have trespassed on tribal land,” Robert Blanchard, chairman and chief executive officer for the Bad River Band, said in a statement to The Times.

In a statement to The New York Times, Enbridge said the company “continues to work diligently to find an equitable and amicable solution with the Bad River Band that recognizes the Band’s sovereignty and addresses their concerns while also allowing the continued delivery of vital energy that millions of people rely on every day throughout the Great Lakes region.”

A spokesman for the Canadian Global Affairs ministry declined to immediately comment. Canada has backed Enbridge in court filings, saying that any shutdown of Line 5 could hurt Canadian customers.

The Justice Department’s brief was 60 pages, nearly double the length allowed, but the court on Wednesday allowed it to stand.

Enbridge has invoked the treaty in the Michigan case, too, claiming it gives the company the right to continue transporting oil and gas unless or until the United States or Canadian federal governments say otherwise.

Tribal officials and supporters who had hoped to gain clarity on the federal government’s position said they were frustrated with the Justice Department’s filing.

“The courts passed the mic to the U.S., and the U.S. handed the mic right back to the courts,” said Debbie Chizewer, an attorney for EarthJustice who is representing the Bay Mills Indian Community in the Michigan case.

Tribes assert that century-old treaties between the Bad River Band and the United States, which were signed decades before the United States and Canada agreed to the pipeline treaty, trump any agreements with Canada.

“We’re talking about the very essence of what tribal sovereignty is,” said David Gover, an attorney with the Native American Rights Fund working on the Line 5 litigation in Michigan.

Enbridge has taken steps in both Wisconsin and Michigan to address concerns.

In Michigan, where the pipeline crosses the narrow waterway between Lake Michigan and Lake Huron, Enbridge has proposed encasing a new segment of pipeline in a concrete tunnel to better protect it from shipping traffic in the Straits of Mackinac.

In Wisconsin, the company says it is prepared to reroute the pipeline around the Bad River Band’s reservation, but lacks the permits necessary to do so.

The cases are playing out in two battleground states in the upcoming presidential race, and the pipeline issue is likely to surface in the campaign.

The Wisconsin appellate court has given the tribe, Enbridge and Canada an opportunity to respond to the Justice Department’s brief by April 24.

Speaker Mike Johnson on Wednesday faced a buzz saw of Republican opposition to his bid to extend a warrantless surveillance law that national security officials call crucial to their efforts to fight terrorism, after former President Donald J. Trump urged lawmakers to kill the legislation.

Republican leaders said they would plunge ahead with a midday vote to bring up the bill, which would extend a section of the Foreign Intelligence Surveillance Act known as Section 702 and make modest changes. But the fate of the measure was very much in doubt after Mr. Trump’s statement, which added a powerful voice of opposition to an already sizable contingent of right-wing lawmakers who have clamored for a more sweeping overhaul that would severely limit the government’s spying powers.

Aides said it was possible that Republicans would yank the bill if they failed to quell the brewing revolt.

No Democrats were expected to vote to move forward on the measure — among other things, Republicans have bundled it with an unrelated resolution condemning President Biden’s border policies — so just three Republican defections would be enough to scuttle the move. At least one hard-right member, Representative Matt Gaetz of Florida, has already pledged to try to tank it.

Stoking the opposition, Mr. Trump posted overnight on social media, “KILL FISA, IT WAS ILLEGALLY USED AGAINST ME, AND MANY OTHERS. THEY SPIED ON MY CAMPAIGN!!!”

The statement was largely incoherent as a matter of policy. Section 702 allows the government to target foreigners abroad for surveillance without warrants. The instance Mr. Trump was apparently referring to — when the F.B.I. obtained wiretap orders on a former campaign adviser to his 2016 campaign as part of an investigation into Russian interference — concerned a different section of FISA for targeting Americans and people on domestic soil in national security inquiries.

But as a matter of politics, Mr. Trump’s attack on the measure only underscored his lingering grievances about that investigation and his disdain for national security agencies he often disparages as an evil “deep state.” And it was resonating with his hard-right allies on Capitol Hill, who see blocking the extension of the law — which government officials say is crucial to their foreign intelligence and counterterrorism work — as a way to inflict pain on an intelligence community they regard as an enemy.

Section 702 is set to expire on April 19. But the program could continue operating until April 2025 if the FISA court grants a government request for orders authorizing it for another year before the underlying statute expires. As a result, if the House measure collapses, the next Congress could revisit it.

Mr. Trump’s intervention recalled a similar episode in early 2018, when he set off last-minute turmoil with a social media broadside against FISA just as House Republicans were scrambling to secure enough support to extend Section 702 before it expired, a move backed by his administration. Hours later, after lobbying by Speaker Paul D. Ryan, Mr. Trump walked back the statement in another social media post, and the bill passed.

Mr. Johnson, who previously opposed the pending legislation and backed a more sweeping overhaul, now says the bill contains “the most significant set of intelligence reforms since FISA was originally enacted in 1978.”

But Mr. Gaetz said he and others would not allow it to move ahead.

“I don’t think we should proceed on to this bill until we’ve got a better understanding of how to adhere to the Constitution,” Mr. Gaetz said, adding, “I don’t see the rule passing.”

Representative Anna Paulina Luna, Republican of Florida, echoed the sentiment in a social media post Wednesday morning, writing, “We are killing FISA,” and predicting that in its current form, the measure could not pass.

At issue is a debate that has roiled Congress for months. Under Section 702, the government is empowered to collect, without warrants, the messages of noncitizens abroad, even when those targeted are communicating with Americans.

As a result, the government sometimes collects Americans’ private messages without a warrant. While there are limits on how those messages can be searched for and used, the F.B.I. has repeatedly violated those limits in recent years — including improperly querying for information about Black Lives Matter protesters and people suspected of participating in the Jan. 6, 2021 Capitol riot.

The F.B.I. has since tightened its system to reduce the risk of queries that violate the standards, and the bill in question would codify those changes and add reporting requirements. It would also limit the number of officials with access to the raw repository of information collected.

But reformers — including both progressive Democrats and libertarian-minded Republicans — want to add a requirement that officials must get a warrant before querying the repository for information about an American. Under the rules to be voted on Wednesday, critics led by Representative Jim Jordan, Republican of Ohio and the chairman of the Judiciary Committee, would get a chance to try to add that requirement to the bill.

National security officials argue that doing so would cripple the program. Senior lawmakers on the House national security committees, including Representatives Michael R. Turner, Republican of Ohio and the chairman of the Intelligence Committee, and Jim Himes of Connecticut, its top Democrat, have also resisted such changes, and are backing the more modest adjustments in the bill.

But a handful of Republicans favor allowing Section 702 to expire altogether — Mr. Gaetz among them.

“I’m incredibly disappointed that the views that Speaker Johnson deeply held for seven years as he sat next to me on the House Judiciary Committee, he has done a 180 on,” Mr. Gaetz said. “Mike Johnson made the arguments against FISA and its abuses better than I did in the House Judiciary Committee. And this is something that I strongly disagree with.”

In a letter to fellow Republicans, Mr. Johnson laid out his reasons for pushing for the extension.

“FISA and Section 702 have been essential to intercepting communications of dangerous foreign actors overseas, understanding the threats against our country, countering our adversaries and saving countless American lives,” Mr. Johnson wrote.

“However, as a former constitutional law litigator and chair of the House Judiciary’s Subcommittee on the Constitution,” he added, “I can state unequivocally that the F.B.I. terribly abused the FISA authority in recent years, and in turn, violated the trust and confidence of the American people. Our responsibility now is simple: maintain the tool but strictly prohibit future abuses.”

Catie Edmondson contributed reporting.

The 160-year-old Arizona abortion ban that was upheld on Tuesday by the state’s highest court was among a wave of anti-abortion laws propelled by some historical twists and turns that might seem surprising.

For decades after the United States became a nation, abortion was legal until fetal movement could be felt, usually well into the second trimester. Movement, known as quickening, was the threshold because, in a time before pregnancy tests or ultrasounds, it was the clearest sign that a woman was pregnant.

Before that point, “women could try to obtain an abortion without having to fear that it was illegal,” said Johanna Schoen, a professor of history at Rutgers University. After quickening, abortion providers could be charged with a misdemeanor.

“I don’t think it was particularly stigmatized,” Dr. Schoen said. “I think what was stigmatized was maybe this idea that you were having sex outside of marriage, but of course, married women also ended their pregnancies.”

Women would terminate pregnancies in several different ways, such as ingesting herbs or medicinal potions that were thought to induce a miscarriage, Dr. Schoen said. The herbs commonly used included pennyroyal and tansy. Another method involved inserting an object in the cervix to try to interrupt a pregnancy or terminate it by causing an infection, Dr. Schoen said.

Since tools to determine early pregnancy did not yet exist, many women could honestly say that they were not sure if they were pregnant and were simply taking herbs to restore their menstrual period.

Abortion providers described their services in discreet but widely understood terms.

“It was open, but sort of in code words,” said Mary Fissell, a professor of the history of medicine at Johns Hopkins University. Abortion medications or herbs were called “female lunar pills” or “French renovating pills,” she said.

Newspaper advertisements made clear these abortion services were available.

“Abortion is commercializing in the mid-19th century, up to the Civil War,” Dr. Fissell said. “You couldn’t pretend that abortion wasn’t happening.”

In the 1820s, some states began to pass laws restricting abortion and establishing some penalties for providers, according to historians.

By the 1840s, there were some high-profile trials in cases where women who had or sought abortions became very ill or died. Some cases involved a British-born midwife, Ann Trow Summers Lohman, known as Madame Restell, who provided herbal pills and other abortion services in New York, which passed a law under which providers could be charged with manslaughter for abortions after quickening and providers and patients could be charged with misdemeanors for abortions before quickening.

But strikingly, a major catalyst of abortion bans being enacted across the country was the emergence of organized and professionalized medicine, historians say.

After the American Medical Association, which would eventually become the largest doctors’ organization in the country, formed in 1847, its members — all male and white at that time — sought to curtail medical activities by midwives and other nondoctors, most of whom were women. Pregnancy termination methods were often provided by people in those vocations, and historians say that was one reason for the association’s desire to ban abortion.

A campaign that became known as the Physicians’ Crusade Against Abortion began in 1857 to urge states to pass anti-abortion laws. Its leader, Dr. Horatio Robinson Storer, wrote a paper against abortion that was officially adopted by the A.M.A. and later published as a book titled “On Criminal Abortion in America.”

Later, the association published “Why Not? A Book for Every Woman,” also written by Dr. Storer, which said that abortion was immoral and criminal and argued that married women had a moral and societal obligation to have children.

Dr. Storer promoted an argument that life began at conception.

“He creates a kind of moral high ground bandwagon, and he does that for a bunch of reasons that make it appealing,” Dr. Fissell said. In one sense, the argument coincided with the emerging medical understanding of embryology that characterized pregnancy as a continuum of development and did not consider quickening to be its defining stage.

There were also social and cultural forces and prejudices at play. Women were beginning to press for more independence, and the male-dominated medical establishment believed “women need to be home having babies,” Dr. Fissell said.

Racism and anti-immigrant attitudes in the second half of the 19th century began fueling support of eugenics. Several historians have said that these undercurrents were partially behind the anti-abortion campaign that Dr. Storer led.

“People like Storer were very worried that the wrong Americans were reproducing, and that the nice white Anglo-Saxon ones were having abortions and not having enough children,” Dr. Fissell said.

A moralistic streak was also gaining prominence, including with the passage of the Comstock Act in 1873, which outlawed the mailing of pornographic materials and anything related to contraception or abortion.

By 1880, about 40 states had banned abortion. Arizona enacted its ban in 1864 as part of a legal code it adopted soon after it became a territory.

The law, ARS 13-3603, states: “A person who provides, supplies or administers to a pregnant woman, or procures such woman to take any medicine, drugs or substance, or uses or employs any instrument or other means whatever, with intent thereby to procure the miscarriage of such woman, unless it is necessary to save her life, shall be punished by imprisonment in the state prison for not less than two years nor more than five years.”

“It was an early one,” Dr. Schoen said, “but it is part of that whole wave of legislation that gets passed between the 1860s and the 1880s.”