America already tried permanent daylight saving time. It lasted less than a year. Could it work now?

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America already tried permanent daylight saving time. It lasted less than a year. Could it work now?

2026-07-16 12:01 Last Updated At：12:53

NEW YORK (AP) — It's an idea whose time, as it were, may have come — again.

The twice-yearly changing of the clocks in the United States could be a thing of the past if legislation currently in Congress that calls for permanent daylight time makes it through. But even as annoying as some find the back-and-forth of the time shift in the spring and the fall, that doesn't necessarily mean sticking to one would go over well. America has tried it before, most recently in the 1970s, and it didn't last.

Now it's a new era, one full of people working at home who didn't before — and advances in sleep science that tell a more nuanced tale.

Could this time (shift) be the charm?

The House of Representatives on Tuesday voted overwhelmingly to pass a bill that makes the shift to daylight saving time, when clocks are moved forward one hour, become permanent.

Currently, the shift is forward in spring and back to standard time in fall as a way to give people more daylight time in the summer evenings. But the semi-annual change has few fans - an AP-NORC poll last year found that only 12% of American adults were in favor of it, while almost half opposed it. Proponents of a single time include the American Medical Association and American Academy of Sleep Medicine — outfits to whom daily rhythms are deeply important.

The Senate would have to pass it before it could be signed into law. President Donald Trump has indicated he's supportive.

Not so fast. People may not like making the change, but history shows they also don't like living with even less morning light in the winter months, when daylight hours are shorter than in summer.

In 1973, Congress passed a law instituting permanent daylight saving time for what was supposed to be a trial period from January 1974 to April 1975. It lasted until October, when it was repealed after public outcry. Among the concerns was worry that schoolchildren would have to get to class in darkness. These days, school starting times have started to shift later.

Kevin Birth, a professor of anthropology at Queens College whose research focuses on cultural concepts of time, was in elementary school in Syracuse, New York, at the time and remembers it vividly. “I had to get up for school and it was like it was midnight,” he said. “It was just pitch black and it remained pitch black into the school day.”

If the U.S. decides to try it again, he said, more has to change than just the clocks. The time zones across the country would need to be adapted as well. The current four zones wouldn't be adequate - they cover so much ground that sunrise comes at different times in western and eastern parts of each zone.

PHOTO ESSAY: Palestinian shepherds endure life alongside Israeli settler outposts

MASAFER YATTA, West Bank (AP) — The blue-and-white Israeli flags flutter from hilltops and line the roads of the occupied West Bank, signaling the growing presence of Israeli settlements and the outposts they’re building on Palestinian land.

For shepherds in the Jordan Valley, as well as in Masafer Yatta, a cluster of villages in the southern West Bank, the flags and expanding settlements have become inescapable features of the landscape, reminders of how daily life has narrowed.

Thiab Draghme and his brother, Ayman, led their flock across the dry hills of the Jordan Valley, returning to their community after searching for grazing land. Their route is carefully chosen. Some pastures are no longer considered safe because of increasing attacks by settlers. Others can be reached only with Israeli activists walking alongside them, documenting their encounters with settlers and Israeli troops and providing what they call a protective presence.

Shepherding has changed little over generations. The risks surrounding it have.

“We are people of generosity and hospitality,” said Thiab, a father of eight. “We want to live in peace.”

He said his children have grown up surrounded by Israeli demolitions, displacement and uncertainty. “What kind of future is that for a child?”

Not far away, Youssef Moussa Shinaran, 52, says he has not been able to harvest olives from his land since the war between Israel and Hamas in Gaza began in October 2023. “You’re not allowed to move around. The house has become a prison,” said Shinaran, who lives near Susya in the southern West Bank.

According to the U.N. humanitarian agency, settler attacks have increased sharply in 2026. Between January and April, the agency recorded 761 attacks linked to Israeli settlers and nearly 2,000 people displaced by violence and access restrictions. Entire communities have found themselves increasingly isolated as new outposts expand across the surrounding hills.

The pressure extends well beyond confrontations between settlers and Palestinians.

One morning, a dispute over a brush fire brought settlers, Palestinians, soldiers and police to a hillside. After settlers accused Palestinians of starting the blaze, one Palestinian and one Israeli activist were detained before being released later that day.

The expansion of the settlements and accompanying violence has forced many Palestinian families to alter their routines. Like the Draghme brothers, some shepherds no longer graze where they once did. Others have sold their flocks after deciding the risk had become too great.

Near the village of Taybeh, northeast of Ramallah, Shoma Kaabneh’s family sold all their sheep after an Israeli outpost was built close to their home. Her husband now works in construction, earning far less than they once made selling dairy products.

In another community in the northern Jordan Valley, a Palestinian family leaves an Israeli flag that settlers planted near their sheep pen. They say removing it could provoke retaliation from settlers or soldiers.

As evening fell over the Masafer Yatta region, men gathered to pray outside homes. Nearby, settlers rode quad bikes before returning to an outpost a few hundred meters away.

Residents organize night watches, taking turns staying awake to warn neighbors if Israeli settlers approach.

Each day begins much like the last: Sheep are led into the hills. Children play between tents and homes. Families tend to their animals, repair fences and prepare meals under a horizon increasingly dominated by Israeli construction that seeks to push them away.

This is a documentary photo story curated by AP photo editors.