The answer to university decline is hiding in plain sight



We can use game theory to answer the question of university decline, but we will have to look outside game theory for the answer if we want to turn things around.

Universities once claimed to form character, cultivate wisdom, and preserve civilization. Now many of them offer courses on “witchcraft and social change through gossip,” “decolonizing mathematics,” and the moral importance of “disrupting systems of power with drag shows.”

Ideologues understand something conservatives often forget: Institutions belong to those willing to fight for them.

Parents spend six figures so their children can be taught that truth is oppression and that literacy itself may be colonial violence.

How did this happen?

Part of the answer is laziness. These are lazy ideologies that appeal to people's base instincts. But laziness alone is too shallow an explanation. The deeper answer is game theory.

Game theory, broadly speaking, studies how rational individuals behave when incentives reward certain actions and punish others. It explains why perfectly intelligent people often cooperate in systems they privately know are absurd.

Once you understand it, modern university decline becomes almost embarrassingly predictable.

The first thing game theory explains is why nonsense replaces good ideas.

Economists long ago noticed something called Gresham’s law: Bad money drives out good money. If counterfeit and genuine coins circulate together at the same legal value, people hoard the good coins and spend the bad ones. Over time, the bad currency dominates public life.

The same principle applies to ideas.

A university that rewards ideological conformity more than truth-seeking will slowly replace good scholars with ideological activists. At first, the institution still coasts on inherited prestige. The physics department still has Nobel Prize winners. The literature department still quotes Shakespeare. The philosophy department still invokes Augustine between land acknowledgments.

However, as advancement continues to depend less on intellectual excellence and more on ideological signaling, ambitious people adapt accordingly.

If a professor discovers that publishing another tedious article on “systems of oppression in medieval gardening practices” produces grants, praise, administrative favor, and social protection, then more such articles will appear.

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Soon, entire academic ecosystems emerge around rewarding jargon and punishing dissent. Aristophanes understood this over 2,000 years ago.

In "The Frogs," he lamented not merely political decline but cultural degeneration itself. Bad money replaces good money, yes — but bad poetry also replaces good poetry, bad music replaces good music, and inferior men replace superior ones.

Civilizations slump downward because institutions stop rewarding excellence and begin rewarding flattery, manipulation, and fashionable absurdity.

Game theory also explains why woke ideologues are especially attracted to teaching.

Teaching offers something extraordinarily valuable to ideological activists: asymmetric authority over the young.

A professor stands before 18-year-olds who often know almost nothing about history, philosophy, economics, or theology. The professor controls grades, social approval, and often the moral atmosphere of the classroom itself.

For someone driven by ideological fervor, such an atmosphere is the perfect missionary environment. This fact is why universities increasingly attract people who view education less as the pursuit of truth and more as political activism.

Much of contemporary academic ideology has a peculiar economic structure. It frequently operates by cultivating envy and moral resentment. Students are taught to interpret society primarily through oppressor-oppressed frameworks. Achievement becomes privilege, and personal failure becomes systemic victimhood.

Ideologies that pander to hate and envy replace those that call for discipline and character formation.

It is always easier to blame “systems” than confront one’s own moral failings like hate, envy, and gossip. It is easier to denounce civilization than to build and defend one.

The most important aspect of this issue that game theory explains is why conservative professors so often remain silent while their institutions go downhill.

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Imagine a professor who privately believes the university is descending into ideological madness. He sees mandatory DEI trainings becoming political indoctrination. He sees departments openly rewarding activism over scholarship. He sees students being manipulated by emotional propaganda dressed up as education.

Should he speak? Game theory says probably not.

Why? Because the incentives are brutal.

If he speaks while others remain silent, he risks social isolation, administrative retaliation, poor evaluations, stalled promotions, public smears, and endless bureaucratic harassment. Meanwhile, if he remains quiet, he keeps his salary, his colleagues, his research time, and his peace.

From the standpoint of narrow self-interest, silence is rational. This silence, however, is what allows institutional collapse to accelerate.

Every individual dissenter waits for someone else to take the risk first. Meanwhile, the activists never hesitate. Ideologues understand something conservatives often forget: Institutions belong to those willing to fight for them.

The result resembles a kind of academic prisoner’s dilemma. If many professors resisted together, the ideological takeover could be slowed or reversed. But if each calculates personal risk individually, almost all remain silent. Thus the activists dominate despite often representing only a loud minority.

Game theory can describe this dynamic perfectly, but we must look elsewhere in order to solve it.

Eventually, civilization depends upon something game theory cannot fully quantify: courage.

There are moments when virtue matters more than personal advantage. Moments when a man says, “Even if no one stands with me, I will still stand.”

We increasingly reduce all human behavior to self-interest, incentives, careerism, or evolutionary advantage. But civilizations are not preserved merely by incentive structures. They are preserved by people willing to sacrifice for what is true, good, and beautiful.

A society survives only if enough people believe some things are worth defending, even at personal cost.

And if universities are ever to recover from their descent into fashionable nonsense, it will not happen because game theory suddenly changes. It will happen because enough people decide goodness, truth, and beauty matter more than safety.

The FDA seems to care more about celebrities than sick Americans



Last month, while many veterans celebrated Joe Rogan and President Donald Trump’s support for psychedelic drugs, those in the Huntington’s disease community like me faced another disappointment. UniQure, a company with a promising treatment, may be abandoning the U.S. market because of bureaucratic roadblocks.

I’m not the president or the world’s most popular podcaster. What I am is a daughter who has tested positive for the Huntington’s disease gene and will one day exhibit the same symptoms of this disease that ate away at my father’s personality and his mind until he took his own life.

The FDA’s answer always seems to be the same when it comes to rare disease treatments: Wait, wait, and then wait some more.

I have advocated for the Huntington’s disease community, both in my father’s memory and with the hope that my future will be different from his. The outlook is dim for those like me unless the Food & Drug Administration allows access to treatments like AMT-130, which UniQure is now advancing first in the U.K. after the FDA’s unreasonable demands pushed the United States down the priority list.

Those demands are disastrous for Huntington’s disease patients. Launching a placebo trial under the FDA’s proposed new criteria would require non-therapeutic injections into the brains of study patients — hardly aligning with medical ethics.

Even without the basic inhumanity of this type of trial, Huntington's patients simply cannot afford the years it would take to complete it. We are living on a much shorter timeline, defined by a merciless disease that is both progressive and fatal.

I’m glad that veterans are getting the attention they deserve and that they have the support of influencers like Rogan. But it raises an important question: Why should it take a celebrity and the president to push the FDA to follow basic common sense and medical best practices?

For years, the rare-disease community has done everything we were told would make a difference. We organized, advocated, and pushed for change with whatever strength we had, often while managing devastating diagnoses and worsening symptoms.

Parents of children with Duchenne muscular dystrophy and Sanfilippo syndrome, to name but two groups, have advocated while watching their children decline.

The FDA’s answer always seems to be the same when it comes to rare disease treatments: Wait, wait, and then wait some more. That means we’re running down hours on a clock that ticks ominously louder with every passing month. We don’t have time for years of unnecessary testing.

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Rogan’s intervention shows that the system can move quickly when it wants to — certainly the president will listen when voices with direct access amplify a cause. Now we need to see that same urgency applied to treatments for rare diseases.

Families like mine are not looking for special treatment. We are only asking for the choice to take the risk of trying new medicines when all the old options have failed. After all, we know the future that awaits us.

President Trump already made the right move with the Right to Try Act, which gives terminally ill patients a pathway to access potentially lifesaving or life-extending treatments. It is critical that he push FDA officials to commit to the same right-to-try principles he championed in his first term.

Scientists are making incredible strides in treating rare diseases. But that innovation only matters if patients are allowed to use treatments already developed. Adults like me, and kids with terminal rare diseases whose parents approve, are absolutely willing to accept any risk that comes with trying a new therapy.

Until someone steps up to bat for people like me, our only alternative is the certaintyof an illness that will slowly, relentlessly ruin our lives and then snuff them out.

Dear airlines, please stop pitching your credit cards at 33,000 feet



I have never considered flying to be a luxurious experience, and this trip was no exception. I don’t think I’m speaking out of turn when I say that all I or anyone else on the flight from Dallas to Detroit on Christmas morning wanted was for it to be over as quickly as possible.

I had waited in the inevitable jetbridge backlog, found my seat, dutifully ignored the safety briefing, and was ready to see if I could manage an hour or so of sleep. As the plane reached cruising altitude, I — having momentarily gained the upper hand in the case of Pestritto v. airline seat — began to slip into a light doze.

In the back of my mind, I knew it was coming, but that didn't make it any more bearable. The crackle of the PA system, the monotone, forced cheerfulness of the flight attendant as he delivered the fateful words: “We’d like to take this chance to tell you about a special promotion being offered on this flight.”

For a brief instant, some small part of me considered pulling the emergency door handle. Surely the icy blast of air at 33,000 feet couldn’t be any worse than enduring the dreaded American Airlines credit card pitch.

When I arrive at the airport, I am prepared to suffer.

After this brief instant of nihilism, the better angels of my nature prevailed, and I contented myself with a silent sigh, listening to the pitch as I meditated on the script’s use of the passive voice. As if the airline were saying, “This promotion is being pitched without your consent. By whom? No idea. We would certainly never inflict such an indignity upon our paying customers.”

Let me take a moment to make my position clear. I understand that air travel is an unpleasant experience. Anyone who has taken a flight more than once in his life almost certainly understands this fact.

I have shrugged my shoulders for two hours straight in a middle seat. I have sat on the tarmac for longer than I thought possible. I have nearly missed my flight because it took four TSA officers to handle the bomb threat posed by the pink sippy cup belonging to the toddler in front of me.

All that to say: When I arrive at the airport, I am prepared to suffer.

However, air travel and I used to have an agreement. Once I made it through the ritual humiliation of the airport process and actually got to my seat on the plane, I was left more or less alone to endure the next few hours as best I could.

I grew up making two-day road trips in a Suburban with my parents and seven siblings, so I consider myself something of an expert at enduring hours of cramped travel conditions. The trick is just sort of retreating within yourself, ignoring your surroundings, and letting the dull misery of the situation become a sort of vague background noise.

This strategy is why I support Delta’s recent decision to end in-flight refreshments on trips of less than 350 miles. Unless the flight is long enough to warrant it, I don’t want my restless slumber disturbed by a voice asking if I want apple juice like it’s lunchtime at the day care or, if I’m the hapless occupant of an aisle seat, my elbow socket being rearranged by the passage of the snack cart.

I want it to just be me, my popping ears, and my very sore rear end until such time as we touch down and I can begin the "Mad Max: Fury Road" experience of trying to get off the plane.

I should have known, though, that modernity is never content to rest on its laurels. Like a roaring lion, it goes about constantly seeking whom it might devour — if by “devour” we mean “deprive of both money and will to live.” Since most airline passengers are neither sober nor watchful, the airlines are as good a place for devouring as any.

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American Airlines is not alone in its quest to eliminate any and all in-flight respite. I have sat through what can only be described as lottery drawings on Spirit Airlines (may she rest in peace), heard random promotions for goodness knows what on Frontier, and been pitched on the same Delta credit card I had in my wallet at the time.

I understand, to a certain degree, why the airlines see fit to inflict these announcements on their passengers. If you look into it, you’ll find that most airlines today are basically just “banks that happen to fly planes.” They actually lose money on the flying part of the operation, which probably has something to do with the incessant attempts to bring customers over to the profitable side of the business.

The details of airline loyalty programs and how they have changed the industry is a story for another time. My concern is twofold.

First: How long can I endure these incessant credit card pitches before I commit self-harm or — far worse — break down and get one of them?

Second: What’s to stop this most heinous of sales methods from spreading to other forms of transportation? How long will it be before I have to endure automated pitches for the Honda GroundMiles Card whenever I stop at a red light?

I don’t expect much when I travel. Whether I’m sitting in Dallas traffic or at cruising altitude over Oklahoma, my greatest desire at this point is to endure the agony unassisted by the vicissitudes of corporate marketing.

Why Trump should discuss the NFL with China



When President Donald Trump meets Xi Jinping in Beijing, the agenda will focus on hard issues including Taiwan, trade, technology, military stability, Iran, and the future of U.S.-China competition. That is as it should be. The U.S.-China relationship is the world’s most consequential bilateral rivalry.

It is precisely because of this tension that Trump should discuss the NFL.

Not as a favor to a sports league or a distraction from great-power competition. Trump should talk NFL because the United States should encourage China to support a formal exploratory process for hosting the first regular-season NFL game on Chinese soil before the 2028 Los Angeles Olympic Games.

A regular-season game in China would be a probe whose real value lies in the durable relationships and youth participation left behind.

The proposal may sound fanciful. That is exactly why it deserves attention. U.S.-China relations run on predictable scripts including tariffs, export controls, military warnings, and crisis management, but great-power competition also requires strategic imagination. It requires identifying unexpected channels where national interests, cultural influence, and private-sector capability can overlap.

The NFL has unfinished business in China. In 2007, the league planned a preseason China Bowl in Beijing between the Patriots and Seahawks, only to cancel it in favor of launching regular-season games in London. Nearly two decades later, the environment has changed. The Los Angeles Rams hold rights in China, along with several other countries.

Trump should invite Xi to support an exploratory process involving the NFL, the Rams, Chinese sports authorities, Olympic stakeholders, and U.S. diplomatic channels.

This outreach is especially relevant because the NFL is no longer acting alone. In January 2026, the league signed a memorandum of understanding with the U.S. Department of State to advance sports diplomacy through international games, youth engagement, flag football, and embassy programming.

Situations like this one are where Joseph Nye’s concept of soft power matters. Nye described power not only as the ability to coerce, but also as the ability to attract. American football, at its best, embodies competition, discipline, teamwork, strategy, and voluntary association.

A regular-season game would only be worthwhile if tied to lasting outcomes such as youth flag football clinics, coach development, girls’ and women’s participation, school partnerships, and a pathway to LA28. Tackle football built the NFL’s global media brand. Flag football is cheaper, safer, and more accessible, and it can build a global participation system. LA28 offers the perfect Olympic stage.

China has incentives to engage. Flag football was selected for the World Games 2025 in Chengdu, and IFAF noted that more than 300,000 children in China already participate in school flag football programs. Hosting the first NFL regular-season game would deliver a major international experience, boost China’s flag football push before LA28, and signal openness amid tension.

China has seen American sport’s reach before. Kobe Bryant achieved massive popularity there and became a symbol of excellence and aspiration for over 20 years. He was even described as a “One-Man State Department.” His influence came from repeated presence, respect for the audience, and stories that Chinese fans could claim as their own.

There are risks, of course. Beijing could turn the event into a prestige project. Any deal must include firm red lines: no political scripts or forced apologies; transparent broadcasts; player safety; and a genuine willingness to walk away.

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Matias J. Ocner/Miami Herald/Tribune News Service/Getty Images

Long travel, scheduling, union buy-in, stadium readiness, and market demand make China harder than established markets like London or Germany. That is why the goal now is not announcing a game, but launching a serious exploratory process to test feasibility and guardrails.

Success would be measured by what remains after the teams leave: flag football participation numbers; trained coaches, school programs, and fan growth; a credible LA28 pathway — not television ratings or photo opportunities.

The United States should remain firm on Taiwan, technology, deterrence, trade, espionage, and human rights. Firmness does not require cultural withdrawal. Great powers compete through pressure and attraction.

Concerns about propaganda and political risk are legitimate. But refusing all engagement also carries costs. Viewing China solely through military balances, export controls, and crisis management narrows the strategic imagination.

Trump should not discuss the NFL with Xi because American football will transform U.S.-China relations. It will not. He should raise it because competition should not mean cultural retreat. A regular-season game in China would be a probe whose real value lies in the durable relationships and youth participation left behind.

America should be confident enough to share one of its greatest cultural inventions and strategic enough to create conditions for effective engagement between two great powers.

Editor's note: This article was originally published by RealClearDefense and made available via RealClearWire.

Democrats don't have a fix for their extremism problem



Democrats have an extremism problem, and it’s not clear how they can solve it.

After yet another gunman allegedly tried to assassinate President Donald Trump at last weekend’s White House Correspondents’ Dinner, liberals nobly renewed their commitment to moderation. “We need LESS violence in America, not MORE violence in America,” wrote CNN’s Van Jones.

Quite right. But the American left has not exactly put itself in a good position to calm down its radicals.

You can court bloodthirsty Marxists, or you can build a wide-ranging coalition of the sensible, but it’s hard to do both at once.

Consider: In April, the New York Times hosted superstar streamer Hasan Piker for a podcast with writer Jia Tolentino. Piker has fantasized on camera about murdering landlords and once told his viewers, “If you cared about Medicare fraud or Medicaid fraud, you would kill [Florida Republican Sen.] Rick Scott.”

He joked with Tolentino about “micro-looting” — that is, shoplifting — and equivocated about whether UnitedHealthcare CEO Brian Thompson deserved to die at the hands of his alleged murderer, Luigi Mangione.

Thompson “was engaging in a tremendous amount of social murder,” said Piker, citing Friedrich Engels to suggest that the killing was retribution for “systematized forms of violence” in the health care system.

Piker is just one online celebrity, but the problem is that he represents a significant portion of the base that Democrats must now cater to. One survey found that 41% of young voters, and 22% of Democrats, considered Mangione’s actions “acceptable.”

This will make it hard for mainstream politicians to tack toward the center without alienating their most youthful, energetic supporters — especially since many Democrats have been enthusiastically courting those supporters since 2020.

That June, following the death of George Floyd, then-California Democratic Sen. Kamala Harris solicited donations to cover bail for rioters and looters in Minnesota. Sen. Chuck Schumer (N.Y.), Rep. Nancy Pelosi (Calif.), and other congressional Democrats donned Ghanaian Kente-cloth stoles and knelt in a display of solidarity with protesters as they proposed unworkable and dangerous police reform.

For a good long while, it was not only encouraged but almost compulsory on the left to side with criminals in the name of social justice. None of this was a secret; all of it was put proudly on record.

Not only that, but to dissent from the maximalist position in these matters, even slightly, was portrayed as a ghastly betrayal that could only be motivated by rank prejudice. “All this anti-woke stuff is just anti-black. Period. Full stop,” said California Gov. Gavin Newsom (D) just last year.

If that’s the case, then it’s hard to see how 2028 presidential hopefuls like Newsom can moderate in any meaningful way without falling into the jaws of their own logic: Either you’re woke, or you’re a cretin. That is not the sort of stance one can gracefully adjust or walk back without considerable awkwardness.

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And so, as William Voegeli observed in the Claremont Review of Books, “Even when moderates do emerge from the Democrats’ process of selecting nominees, a correlation of forces within the party combines with shrewd politicians’ flexibility of conviction to accelerate the leftward shift.”

The Hasan-ization of the party, in other words, may be hard to resist. Try as they might to avoid it, Democrats might be forced to swallow the Piker Pill.

For instance, last November, Ezra Klein of the New York Times was lamenting that “the Democratic Party has made room on its left and closed down on its right,” suggesting a more balanced approach would be effective against the polarizing force of Trumpism.

But by April of this year, Klein was making qualified excuses for Piker in a column initially headlined “Hasan Piker is not the enemy.” The Tolentino podcast followed shortly thereafter.

You can court bloodthirsty Marxists, or you can build a wide-ranging coalition of the sensible, but it’s hard to do both at once.

Democrats might like to recast themselves as the cool-headed alternatives to Trump’s reckless villainy. But all the momentum and media clout are with Piker — and with young celebrity politicians who feel comfortable making high-profile public appearances alongside him, like Rep. Alexandria Ocasio-Cortez (D-N.Y.) and New York Mayor Zohran Mamdani (D).

Regrettably, this could be what peak Democrat performance looks like from now on: callow, clickable, and aggressively extreme on social and economic issues.

That’s not obviously a winning brand. But it could be the only viable one going. If so, then Democrats don’t actually get to choose whether to court the far left or recast themselves as sensible centrists. They already chose back in 2020, and they chose peak woke.

Editor’s note: This article was originally published in the American Mind.

Learn to ask meaningful questions



Few remember what economic plan Jimmy Carter tried to sell in 1980. They remember the misery index, inflation and unemployment climbing together, and the hostages in Iran. What they don’t remember are the policy details, because one question cut through all of it.

Ronald Reagan asked, “Are you better off than you were four years ago?”

That was it. Everything Carter wanted to argue for a second term had to pass through that question. Once it didn’t, the rest of the argument no longer mattered.

People escape accountability because we lack the will — or the courage — to let the question stand in the spotlight.

People remember questions like that, not because they were clever, but because they left nowhere to hide.

“What did the president know, and when did he know it?” —Howard Baker

“Can you provide a definition for the word 'woman'?” —Senator Marsha Blackburn

“What's your favorite type of abortion?” —Rep. Brandon Gill

And then there is the question God put to Job, not for information, but for perspective: “Where were you when I laid the foundation of the earth?”

Some questions demand accountability from men, while one reminds man who he is. We used to understand this. Now we try to avoid it.

I have spent four decades in exam rooms, where polite conversation is useless when something goes wrong. You don’t ask questions to sound informed; you ask because something is at stake.

What happened? What changed? What are we doing now?

You don’t let the answer drift into language that sounds right but explains nothing. You bring it back, again and again, until something real emerges. No amount of expertise, credentials, or authority allows someone to evade accountability with a filibuster. You don’t have to know how to perform surgery to do that. You just have to care enough not to be brushed aside.

That discipline is rare in our public life.

A congresswoman recently echoed a talking point her party and much of the media have been pushing. She pressed Pete Hegseth about the 25th Amendment and Donald Trump. It sounded serious, but it wasn’t.

The world watched Joe Biden struggle in plain view. Where was this concern then?

The same thing shows up with Elizabeth Warren. She raised concerns about airline prices while opposing the JetBlue-Spirit Airlines merger that might have reshaped that market.

She is welcome to make the argument, but the question remains: "You opposed the merger, so how is this outcome not on you?"

That question doesn’t ask for a speech; it requires an answer.

The same pattern shows up on a much larger stage. For decades, leaders in both parties have said the same thing about Iran: It cannot be allowed to obtain a nuclear weapon, and it remains a leading state sponsor of terrorism.

That has been the consistent position, even as the policies have differed. Two Clintons, two Bushes, Obama, Schumer, Pelosi, Biden, and scores of others all said the same thing: Iran can't have a nuclear weapon.

Now, when Donald Trump takes steps he argues are aimed at achieving that outcome, many of the same voices object.

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Kent NISHIMURA/AFP/Getty Images

We have also lost the discipline to define the words we use. People throw around “fascist” as if saying it settles the argument, when all it does is raise another question: "What do you mean?"

Not the label, but the definition. If the word means something, it should withstand that question. If it can’t, then it is being used as a weapon or a prop, not a description. Ultimately, the question becomes the teaching moment.

God set that standard in the third chapter of Genesis: “Where are you?” “Who told you that you were naked?”

He didn’t ask because they needed information, but because they needed to see. That’s what a real question does. It brings clarity. It forces things into the open that people would rather leave covered.

Clarity doesn’t come from longer answers. It comes from better questions. And when the question is right, it leaves no room to hide behind time or language.

People escape accountability because we lack the will — or the courage — to let the question stand in the spotlight. The clock runs out. The filibuster works. And the question either goes unanswered or never gets asked at all.

And everyone retreats to their corner, waiting for the next performance.

Overzealous AI regulation is a danger to free speech



The dawn of the AI era has sparked a wide range of reactions, from exhilaration over the technology’s capabilities to deep distress.

Such responses to a new communicative tool are nothing new, and indeed, AI presents new and unique challenges that will require deep thought and sensitivity.

But a heavy-handed congressional response that erodes long-standing American freedoms isn’t the answer. The Senate Judiciary Committee’s passage last week of SB 3062, the GUARD Act, shows the substantial risk that Congress’ “do something” energy poses to free speech.

Restrictions violate the First Amendment by regulating the protected editorial decisions of developers and by infringing on individuals’ rights to create and receive lawful expression.

The bill regulates AI chatbots — especially so-called “AI companion” systems — through access limits, design mandates, and disclosure requirements, backed by civil and criminal penalties of up to $100,000 per violation.

If enacted, it puts the federal officials squarely in the position of deciding how this technology is built and used, limiting engagement with information and compelling speech along the way.

Growing calls for a federal solution to the fragmented landscape of state regulations reflect a clear political appetite for legislative action. And a single national standard has obvious appeal for an industry seeking consistency across jurisdictions. But consistency isn’t the same as constitutionality.

If federal proposals like the GUARD Act replicate the speech restrictions found in state laws, they just hardwire those problems into federal law.

Take the bill’s age verification requirements. The GUARD Act forces Americans to create accounts and prove their ages. Existing accounts are frozen until verified, and companies are required to recheck users’ ages periodically.

Age-verification mandates like this one force individuals to disclose their identity to seek answers and thus give up anonymity, a right the Supreme Court has repeatedly recognized as central to free expression.

Faced with mandatory identity disclosure, many think twice before asking sensitive questions. Would someone trapped in an abusive relationship be more or less willing to seek advice from a chatbot if she had to surrender her privacy? Or how about the employee who is consistently harassed at work but is worried about asking for advice?

There’s a reason that the Federalist Papers were written under a pseudonym. Even public debate sometimes requires distance from the speaker’s identity. That protection is still needed today, allowing people to seek information, test ideas, and ask sensitive questions without fear of legally required exposure.

Then there are rules about content. The bill makes it unlawful to design, deploy, or make available chatbots that, in the government’s view, “encourage” or “promote” certain categories of constitutionally protected speech.

RELATED: Age verification laws do not make us safer

Samuel Boivin/NurPhoto/Getty Images

Who do we want to be in charge of determining that? Those restrictions violate the First Amendment by regulating the protected editorial decisions of developers and by infringing on individuals’ rights to create and receive lawful expression.

Proposals like the GUARD Act dictate how chatbots respond and intrude on editorial judgment by putting Congress’ thumb on the scale of what is acceptable speech. This means control over who can speak, what can be said, and how ideas are expressed.

Those choices shape the substance of speech and risk reducing a chorus of voices to a single, government-shaped note.

Finally, disclaimer mandates can cross constitutional lines by compelling speech. The GUARD Act requires chatbots to deliver federally imposed messages in every interaction. While informing users, its application in every circumstance alters the content and flow of communication itself.

All of this points to a deeper reality that AI systems cannot perfectly predict or control every output. That is not a defect. It’s a core feature of how these models generate responses from probabilistic patterns.

Artificial intelligence, and chatbots in particular, has become Washington’s latest political punching bag. Accusations of manipulation and harm are driving a slew of legislative proposals to censor this emerging technology. The GUARD Act isn’t alone. The recently introduced CHATBOT Act presents many of the same threats.

The same impulse to move quickly in Congress is playing out nationwide, with proposals in states like Minnesota, Florida, and Washington targeting chatbots through access restrictions, disclosure mandates, and content-related rules.

The Constitution doesn’t permit any government to address concerns about AI by broadly restricting protected expression. The First Amendment demands solutions that target illegal conduct without burdening the exchange of ideas.

This article was originally published by RealClearPolitics and made available via RealClearWire.

It’s past time for the government to rein in AI



Recently, National Economic Council Director Kevin Hassett revealed that the White House is contemplating issuing an executive order that would regulate and evaluate AI models similar to how the Food and Drug Administration evaluates new food and drugs.

This is a good idea that deserves serious consideration. Here is why.

Frontier models are automating complex, multistep cyberattacks at ‘machine speed.’

There are several major concerns with AI cybersecurity that haven’t been fully addressed.

There is the use of AI to attack a cyber asset (adversarial), and there are attacks on AI tools like chatbots and voicebots that AI can accomplish with amazing speed and cleverness (AI security).

There is the use of AI in phishing attacks, and there are deepfakes. All of these pose grave threats to American businesses and the federal government, with the potential to affect financial information, privacy, personal data, trade secrets, and national security.

The CEO of CrowdStrike recently sounded the alarm on this issue.

We’re seeing an explosion of new threat actors that may not have all the superior skills to figure this out, but they can use generative AI to advance their attacks very quickly and to make them scalable. There’s going to be a greater proliferation of adversaries than we’ve ever seen. And that is just going to grow, probably exponentially.

A recent report by the National Counterintelligence and Security Center highlighted findings from the AI Security Institute showing that frontier models are automating complex, multistep cyberattacks at “machine speed.”

With some models already matching the pace of human experts at a fraction of the cost, and other models and systems completely outpacing humans, the threat is accelerating due to both the expanding expertise of humans and the expanding capabilities of the AI models, as recently announced by Anthropic about its latest models’ ability to find vulnerabilities in “well-tested” systems.

Another report by ReliaQuest described how a new malware strain called “DeepLoad” can use AI-enabled obfuscation to bypass traditional static defenses in enterprise environments.

These kinds of reports are useful, but it is difficult for us mere humans to keep up with the new daily threats. We need a machine-readable database, much like the computer virus databases that have existed for decades.

The great variety of threats that are invented on a daily basis is extremely concerning. While the Open Worldwide Application Security Project AI Top 10 list is a useful start, it is far from what today’s systems need to address emerging threats.

Our federal government must prioritize a framework solution immediately.

The technology industry has databases of cyber threats, but we also need to share information on how to mitigate them. This can be deeply technical and require specialized knowledge, not just of large language models but of other complicated technologies like audio signal processing.

The National Institute of Standards and Technology, a non-regulatory federal agency within the Department of Commerce, has been a leader in providing recommendations for responsible AI; however, it needs greater enforcement authority.

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Governments are usually slow to update anything, as they should be. Legislative branches are even slower. Congress should not be writing detailed technical metrics and methodologies for cybersecurity.

A solution is that Congress should empower a regulatory agency to monitor and enforce AI safety standards. A somewhat similar example is the FDA, which protects public health by ensuring the safety and security of food, drugs, biological products, and medical devices. It regulates products by reviewing research and conducting inspections.

What Congress should do is address the need for an AI cybersecurity framework by statutorily tasking NIST with creating and managing a centralized AI cybersecurity threat database to which all software vendors can (and should) submit new threats.

While NIST would be a great place to centralize communications of the resources, it is the private sector that will provide most of the intelligence around what the threats are and how to mitigate them.

After all, NIST is already mandated to provide similar resources as part of the Secure Software Development Framework under federal cybersecurity policy and Executive Order 14028, and through the National Vulnerability Database.

We need a framework that not only keeps up with attacks, but is ahead of the antagonists in the AI war, no matter who they are or what their intentions may be. A NIST-led national framework would ensure that Americans, businesses, and the federal government can be protected from the lightning-fast, ever-advancing cybersecurity threats.

This article was originally published by RealClearPolitics and made available via RealClearWire.

Adults are refusing to grow up, and their children are paying the price



Adults who never want to grow up emotionally have created a generation of children who, like Cypher in the movie "The Matrix," want to — or sometimes are even forced to — perpetually escape into technology as a means of finding their bliss.

According to a recent study, these kids are desperately overprotected from honestly engaging with the real world while simultaneously allowed to wander aimlessly in a technological fantasy land from a very early age.

They don’t mind if their kids are afraid and distant all the time, as long as they are afraid and distant just like them.

While 30% of 7-year-olds and 60% of 11-year-olds have a smartphone, the data also shows that about 60% of 17-year-olds aren’t allowed to leave their neighborhood without supervision.

This madness is born of modern adults' addiction to being comfortable and distracted at all costs as they perpetually coddle the scared children living inside them, rather than accept their God-ordered duties to raise their actual children into future adults. Remember, self-medication doesn’t always have to come in drug form.

But this isn’t just somebody else’s problem. It is also present within many Christian families today, where the explicit narrow road of the rugged cross is always buried under the never-ending pursuit of flat-earth feel-goodisms. It doesn’t take much for children, after watching such obvious fraud and emptiness persist year after year, to gladly latch on to false gods of their own.

We are plagued by adults who, more than anything else, just want whatever they want whenever they want it. Instead of doing the hard work of preserving a world that can be passed down, they let their own social media and technology flags fly while other traditionally fundamental social structures and relationships die.

The cycle works like this: The schools fall apart because the adults are too selfish to be involved. Then the parents overprotect their children from the screwed-up society those broken schools helped create.

This, in turn, leaves the kids to desperately reach out for meaning and adventure using social media — even though it is every bit as dangerous as the real world. The parents, however, are too busy pleasuring themselves to prevent that pitfall because of the very emotional addictions, distractions, and comforts that caused this whole cycle in the first place.

No, you don’t just love your kids and want them to be safe from a scary world. You just love yourself too much to fight for them. Your emotions became your worldview, and your children an actual human sacrifice.

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Worse yet, we are likely going to be mired in this era of systematic epistemological obstruction for a long while. It is the sad but inevitable next step of what postmodernism and moral subjectivism look like if there are no absolute standards other than me, myself, and I.

Since the church decided it was going to take a generational coffee break from doing its job of discipleship and stewardship, the parents and families all thought they had the green light to let their electric boogaloo go to infinity and beyond.

Our smartphones are putting more questionable information in front of us than we've ever had in the history of our species, and most of it rhymes with ‘Did God really say?’ from the Garden of Eden. I mean, the original happy couple of the book of Genesis couldn’t even hold back the temptation of a single tree, but I’m sure the modern parent and child alike will find all the meaning and protection they need from the internet!

Imagine the parent who is too worried and distracted to encourage his kid to pursue goods like going on a date, getting a job, or reading the Bible but is just fine with him slurping infinite but obnoxious meaning from tech addictions because that feels just like looking in the mirror. These parents don’t mind if their kids are afraid and distant all the time, as long as they are afraid and distant just like them.

That millstone is heavy enough, though, to pull both parent and child into the abyss at the exact same time.

You weren’t designed by your Creator to be anonymous, alone, inside, and hooked to technology, yet many parents are feeding their kids that life as though they are proudly sending them off to earn a Ph.D. in divinity from Harvard. We must do better.

The way, the truth, and the life is not an iPhone app. It is an adventure that calls us to go forth to all the world, but how are we supposed to do that if parents not only keep their children's spiritual training wheels on too long but never plan on taking their own off, either?