Why Johnny still can’t read: The curriculum cartel doesn’t want reform



Half a century after the book “Why Johnny Can’t Read” sounded an alarm about the rise of illiteracy in the U.S., the problem has only gotten worse. A quarter of all young adults, many of them high-school graduates, are now functionally illiterate. Unable to read more than basic, short sentences, their prospects in today’s information economy are bleak.

This crisis gave rise to a movement that embraced the science of reading and produced a surprising success story in the Deep South, a region dogged by the highest rates of childhood illiteracy in the nation. State leaders and education reformers in Mississippi and Louisiana led a remarkable improvement in elementary reading scores that now rank among the highest in the nation.

Advocates estimate that about half of the state’s districts are experimenting with or rolling out higher-quality curricula.

The turnaround was a long slog, requiring a heavy hand from the state to win buy-in for a wholesale transformation of curricula, teaching methods, accountability, and more. Former state education chief Carey Wright called it the “Mississippi Marathon.” One of the biggest questions in public education now is whether the southern surge can spread nationwide, turning millions of struggling students into proficient readers with a brighter future.

But such a top-down approach is running into resistance, particularly in blue states like New York and Illinois, where strong teachers’ unions have fought to preserve local control over schools. And nowhere is the political battle over who runs the classroom more pronounced than in Massachusetts, which has long boasted the nation’s best public schools.

Massachusetts’ governor is expected to sign a literacy bill in the coming months, making it one of about a dozen states to mandate adoption of curricula based on the science of reading in elementary grades. Laws in another 30 states merely encourage its use. Although these laws suggest a big step forward for the nation, Massachusetts illustrates the challenges ahead in some states — many of the educators responsible for implementing the mandated reforms see them as an affront to local control of classrooms.

The influential Massachusetts Teachers Association led the campaign against the legislation, suffering a rare defeat at the statehouse. At least 300 superintendents, principals, and teachers in about 40 Massachusetts districts also signed a letter opposing the mandate, arguing that local educators know what’s best for students.

The pushback in Massachusetts raises concerns among advocates about whether the reforms, especially the evidence-based curriculum and teacher training, will be fully implemented across the state. ExcelinEd, an advocacy group chaired by former Florida Gov. Jeb Bush (R), has identified many science-of-reading policies, big and small, that have helped states boost literacy rates. The group’s research found that the difference between states with the biggest reading gains and those that floundered boils down to how thoroughly they implemented most of the reforms.

“We know what works, and we have state exemplars like Mississippi, Louisiana, and Florida that have actually done it,” said ExcelinEd senior policy fellow Christy Hovanetz. “So unless more states are willing to do the hard work, we’re not going to see improved outcomes for our kids. And that severely impacts our economic prosperity and future. So yes, I’m concerned.”

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State versus local control

In the United States, most school districts call the shots regarding the curriculum — the crucial teaching materials that determine how kids are taught. Although research shows that the quality of curricula makes a big difference in whether Johnny and Jill learn to read, this area of public education remains largely unregulated by most states, leaving 13,000 districts to pick instructional materials based on convenience, corporate marketing, or price. And nobody knows what curricula most districts use since only six states require such disclosure, according to Karen Vaites of the Curriculum Insight Project.

Science-of-reading advocates say local control over curricula isn’t working. Consider fourth-graders, about the age when children's reading skills strongly predict their future academic success or failure. In 2024, 40% of fourth-graders across the nation scored below the basic level, up from 34% in 2019 and nearly matching levels in 1992, according to the National Assessment of Educational Progress, the gold standard in testing. These students have trouble reading aloud, recognizing and decoding many grade-level words, and thus comprehending the meaning of text. They will struggle in all their classes through high school if they aren’t reading well in elementary school.

States like Massachusetts are responding with mandates that require districts to pick from a menu of approved curricula backed by research showing their effectiveness. The Massachusetts Teachers Association doesn’t dispute that there’s a literacy crisis. But the union opposed the mandate, casting it as a form of government overreach in complex curricular matters best left to trained educators.

“Our members have opposed legislated curriculum mandates for literacy education because they know losing flexibility to do their jobs and restricting their professional judgment inevitably means some students will continue to struggle with learning to read and write,” MTA President Max Page and Vice President Deb McCarthy said in a statement to RealClearInvestigations. “The law in Massachusetts will cost hundreds of millions of dollars to implement, and that money would be better spent on hiring staff and increasing professional development opportunities for educators.”

The union says it supports the voluntary adoption of evidence-based curricula by districts, which has been spurred on by grants from programs like Literacy Launch. Advocates estimate that about half of the state’s districts are experimenting with or rolling out higher-quality curricula. The other half are still using less effective instructional materials, including Lucy Calkins' popular Units of Study, which is based on the principles of a teaching strategy called Balanced Literacy.

Failed reform efforts

Balanced Literacy emerged during the “reading wars” of the 1990s in an attempt to address the nation’s literacy decline. At the time, the prominent approach to instruction, called Whole Language, required students to learn words and sentences by looking at simple picture books as they were read aloud and, if needed, guess at pronunciation and meaning by the story’s context and images. Experts hoped that this loosely structured method would inspire a love of reading.

While it worked for some students, critics said the lack of any explicit instruction in methods to decode words left many students struggling. Balanced Literacy came about as a compromise, adding a dash of phonics to help these students sound out words while keeping the fundamentals of the Whole Language strategy.

States with new literacy laws are not all doing a good job of vetting curricula to ensure they give districts the strongest options.

De’Shawn Washington, winner of the 2024 Teacher of the Year award in Massachusetts, saw the damage Balanced Literacy’s Units of Study did to his elementary students. In his Boston and Lexington classrooms, students who were already proficient readers advanced at a fast clip. But most students, who were one or two grade levels behind because they didn’t have exposure to reading at home or suffered from a disability, learned at a much slower pace, if at all. A few of his third-graders were unable to read books for kindergarteners or write their names. Washington did his best to supplement Units of Study with more phonics, but it wasn’t much help.

“The struggling readers tended to get left behind, and the disparity between them and the proficient readers widened,” said Washington, whose experience turned him into an advocate of Massachusetts’ mandate.

Calkins, a professor at Columbia, has publicly acknowledged her curriculum’s shortcomings. Yet Units of Study remains entrenched in more than two dozen Massachusetts districts, which are part of the “widespread” resistance to literacy reforms, including in Boston Public Schools, says Darci Burns, executive director of HILL for Literacy, which trains Massachusetts teachers in evidence-based literacy practices.

Burns says many of the gatekeepers of instructional materials, such as assistant superintendents and directors of curriculum, were trained to use Balanced Literacy and remain wedded to it like a religion. Teachers like its unscripted approach, giving them more freedom. Burns predicts they will try to skirt the mandate rather than support it.

“These districts might adopt a reading program that’s the most aligned with Balanced Literacy,” Burns told RCI. “And then they’ll go through the motions, but they won’t really do it.”

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The science of reading

In 2000, a National Reading Panel of top experts was set up to distill what several hundred gold-standard studies revealed about literacy instruction. Although the panel didn’t explicitly reject Balanced Literacy, it found that a more structured approach to instruction in five areas was the most effective: phonemic awareness (learning word sounds), phonics (matching sounds to letters), fluency (reading aloud), vocabulary (learning word meanings), and comprehension (gleaning the meaning of text).

The science-of-reading movement was built on these five pillars, with Massachusetts and other states incorporating them into legislation. Although more recent research has brought new insights — leading scholar Louisa Moats says language skills need much more emphasis in the five pillars — they remain the best approach to improved literacy.

Yet two decades after the panel’s findings, most universities still haven’t read the memo. Signaling the challenges of wholesale reform, only a quarter of teacher preparation programs cover all five pillars, denying most instructors the training they need to be effective.

This leaves educators in an unusual position — unlike most professionals, they are not trained in, and sometimes reject, the best practices of their trade. It’s another knock on the relevance of higher education that Massachusetts and other states are now addressing by requiring teacher preparation to include the five pillars.

“Most teachers don’t know the science of reading — that the point of phonemic awareness is to facilitate word recognition with an alphabetic writing system, or that the primary comprehension enabler is vocabulary,” said Moats. “I don’t want my grandkids in a classroom where the teacher has the autonomy to do whatever the hell she wants, because I have seen the results of that.”

The five pillars may be on solid footing, but the curricula based on them are a work in progress. Some are comprehensive, others are too narrowly focused on the foundational skills like phonics and don’t include enough reading and writing; some don’t focus enough on building students’ knowledge about subjects like history and science, which is key to reading comprehension; some haven’t been around long enough to have a proven track record.

States with new literacy laws are not all doing a good job of vetting curricula to ensure they give districts the strongest options, says Vaites of the Curriculum Insight Project. The varying quality of curricula has given ammunition to critics of mandates, such as Superintendent Julie Hackett, whose affluent Lexington district in Massachusetts uses Units of Study.

Southern states found that a new curriculum isn’t worth much unless teachers are trained to master it.

“We’ve done some looking into results around districts that have adopted new curricula, and we are not seeing the results that would necessarily justify” spending up to $1 million to buy new instructional materials, Hackett said at an MTA event.

Vaites wrote that Hackett’s concerns are overblown. Although Massachusetts’ current list isn’t perfect, it does offer comprehensive programs covering the five pillars, with an emphasis on reading books and building knowledge.

“Most of the curricula on Massachusetts’ list are pretty good, and now with the mandate, most people think that state leaders are savvy enough to make it even better,” Vaites told RCI.

Arduous training

Southern states found that a new curriculum isn’t worth much unless teachers are trained to master it. Washington, the former teacher, says adopting a new curriculum is a lot of work, and classes and coaching give teachers more confidence about handling such a big transition.

“The training shifts the conversation away from resistance because teachers realize they are not going into this new situation blind and that there’s a big investment being made to improve the profession,” Washington said.

The bills in Massachusetts offer training to all teachers rather than requiring it, as 18 other states, including Louisiana, have done, according to ExcelinEd’s literacy policy tracker. If that’s a concession to opponents, so is the decision by Massachusetts lawmakers not to adopt another reform that has proven effective in Louisiana, Mississippi, and other states: retaining third-graders who can’t read at or near grade level from promotion.

It’s a highly controversial policy that parents almost always oppose, despite the long-term literacy benefits, according to a study of Mississippi that found retention “led to substantially higher ELA scores in sixth grade.”

In all, ExcelinEd has identified 18 reforms, including dyslexia screening and parental notification of reading problems, that the most successful states have implemented. Given the heavy lift, it’s not surprising that some states have stumbled.

Of the 15 states that had adopted most of the 18 policies by 2019, 10 outpaced the national average in fourth-grade NAEP reading scores by 2024, with Mississippi, Louisiana, Florida, and South Carolina far out in front, according to Hovanetz, the policy fellow. These 10 states illustrate the effectiveness of the reforms.

But test scores in four of the 15 states declined more than the nation’s did, and Michigan tied, showing the difficulty of implementing the reforms. Among the backsliding states, Hovanetz says, New Mexico didn’t train and deploy all of its reading coaches, and Oklahoma and North Carolina ended their third-grade retention policy.

“States get a whole bunch of constituent calls saying, ‘It’s not fair you’re retaining my kid.’ Then they back off of the policy and lose any momentum that they had gained,” says Hovanetz, a former Florida education official.

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Minnesota illustrates how things can go wrong when districts are encouraged, rather than mandated, to adopt evidence-based curricula and teacher training.

“Some teachers took the training. Not everyone did, and when they went back to their schools, teachers didn’t have the instructional materials to support what they learned in training, and they might not have had a leader at the school to support them,” Hovanetz said. “So Minnesota probably wasted a whole lot of money.”

A number of other states haven’t bothered to pass meaningful science-of-reading laws. They include liberal states like Washington and Illinois and more conservative states like Montana and Maine.

In Massachusetts, a conference committee is reconciling the two bills, with the rollout of reforms set for 2027. The Senate bill requires districts to regularly assess K-3 students’ reading abilities and create improvement plans for those who score significantly below grade level. It’s a measure of accountability that advocates hope will produce positive results in a state that’s moving backwards in literacy on the NAEP test.

In another concession to opponents of the mandate, lawmakers gave districts a narrow escape hatch. They can apply for a waiver from the mandate if their alternative curriculum is backed by research evidence. While the waiver could open the door to the adoption of Calkins' revised Units of Study, it will have to pass muster with the Department of Elementary and Secondary Education.

Mary Tamer, who convened the Mass Reads coalition of 40 education groups to support the legislation she helped write, is bullish about adopting reforms. Despite the opposition, she says the political momentum, underscored by the unanimous votes for the literacy bills in both the House and Senate, is strong enough to compel most districts to buy in.

“Our expectation is that districts will move toward evidence-based instruction as quickly as they can because it’s proven to teach children how to read,” she said. “And that is our goal here.”

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

The winning message is the one pro-lifers keep avoiding



Many conservatives still treat the fall of Roe v. Wade as a decisive victory. The four years since have looked more like a warning.

States passed more pro-life laws. Abortion numbers still climbed as chemical abortions expanded. Republicans hold Congress and the White House, yet their best legislative win amounted to defunding Planned Parenthood for a single year — while Washington toys with expanding IVF mandates and even hints at becoming more “flexible” on the Hyde Amendment.

When the pro-life movement treats its own argument as too radioactive to say plainly, moderates still aren’t convinced — and the base stops listening.

The biggest losses didn’t come from legislatures. They came from voters.

Across the country, abortion-rights activists have used ballot initiatives to write a “right to abortion” into state constitutions. Once voters approve those amendments, courts use them to bulldoze state pro-life laws. The trend will continue unless the anti-abortion movement rethinks its messaging — fast.

Blue states predictably enshrined abortion rights. Red and purple states did too. Voters in Missouri, Montana, and Arizona backed abortion amendments. Colorado, New York, and Maryland did as well.

In 2024, abortion ballot measures passed in seven states and failed in three. Florida stopped an amendment only because state law requires a 60% supermajority. Nebraska rejected one by 51%. South Dakota defeated its measure with 59%. All three states backed President Donald Trump by larger margins than that.

Another wave of initiatives is coming this year. Nevada voters will decide whether to provide the second affirmative vote needed to add an abortion amendment they approved in 2024. Virginia, where Democrats control state government, will vote on an abortion amendment as well. Idaho voters may consider an abortion statute that lawmakers can later amend or repeal. Arkansas could vote on a measure to make the state constitution easier to amend, which would almost certainly tee up an abortion amendment fight soon after.

The pro-life movement keeps walking into these battles with a losing playbook.

Many pro-life groups center their messaging on women who get abortions rather than the babies murdered by abortion. They assume the issue primarily drives Democratic turnout. They want to “compete” by shifting to softer language about women’s health, hoping to win moderates on neutral ground.

That approach doesn’t persuade moderates, and it often fails to mobilize the pro-life base.

Take Arizona. The pro-life coalition opposing Proposition 139 called itself “It Goes Too Far.” One of its yard signs read: “Protect Women’s Health.” It didn’t even mention abortion.

Arizona voters re-elected Trump with 52% of the vote. They also approved Proposition 139 with nearly 62%. That’s the same margin New York voters gave their own abortion amendment.

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Ohio followed the same pattern. Pro-life groups launched “Protect Women Ohio” to oppose Issue 1, which passed with nearly 57% of the vote in 2023. The messaging leaned on parental rights and transgender issues — as if linking Issue 1 to other debates would broaden the opposition.

Instead, the coalition blurred the point. Issue 1 appeared in an off-year election, one year after Roe fell. Progressive voters turned out. Conservatives stayed home.

Afterward, activists who knocked doors against Issue 1 told the same story: Pro-life voters felt confused. The campaign avoided the central issue, then wondered why the people most likely to vote against abortion never felt compelled to show up.

Abortion amendments raise other policy questions. They touch parental consent, conscience protections, and medical regulation. But the core reason to oppose them remains simple: Abortion murders babies. Pro-life messaging that refuses to say that out loud shouldn’t expect to win.

A blunt moral argument does two things that “women’s health” slogans don’t. It keeps the debate centered on what abortion is. It also activates the voters needed to defeat these measures — voters who will turn out when they understand their ballot could save lives.

Conservatives face a familiar temptation in a culture that punishes conviction: soften the message for short-term gains. Electoral politics requires prudence. It doesn’t require self-censorship. When the pro-life movement treats its own argument as too radioactive to say plainly, moderates still aren’t convinced — and the base stops listening.

If Republicans want to win ballot fights and build lasting cultural renewal, they need to speak with moral clarity. Until they do, they’ll keep losing these amendments — and babies will keep dying because of it.

The next fight over freedom will run through AI models



When it comes to artificial intelligence, the Trump administration has made its position clear: America will not choke innovation with red tape.

That instinct is understandable and, in many ways, correct. AI is moving fast, and heavy-handed regulation could do real damage. If the United States cripples its own companies, China will gladly take the advantage. And no one on the right wants blue-state politicians using AI rules to smuggle “woke” ideology into the next generation of powerful models.

The goal should be straightforward: Build an American AI future in which freedom is embedded from the start, and constitutional guardrails shape the systems that will increasingly shape us.

As White House AI adviser David Sacks recently put it, “We don’t like seeing blue states trying to insert their woke ideology in AI models, and we really want to try and stop that.”

Fair enough.

But what happens when resistance to bad regulation hardens into resistance to any regulation at all?

That question is now surfacing in Utah, where the White House is reportedly opposing a Republican-sponsored AI transparency bill. The fight may sound parochial, but it raises a much larger question: Do conservatives have the discipline to protect constitutional liberty in the AI age?

Utah isn’t California

The Utah proposal is not a European-style crackdown. It would not impose speech codes, mandate ideological compliance, or try to centrally plan the AI economy.

At its core, the bill focuses on transparency and accountability. It would require frontier AI companies to disclose serious risks, plan for safety in advance, report major problems, and protect whistleblowers who raise alarms.

That’s far from radical.

If the administration’s AI strategy is to stop progressive states from embedding political orthodoxy into algorithms, Utah’s bill does not belong in that category. The measure is about making sure the companies building extraordinarily powerful systems acknowledge the risks up front and take responsibility when things go wrong.

Treating that effort as if it were blue-state social engineering confuses two very different problems. There is a real difference between using AI regulation to enforce ideology and asking powerful firms to level with the public about systems that could reshape society.

The myth of an ‘unregulated’ AI market

Another uncomfortable truth lurks beneath this debate: AI is not operating in anything like a free-market vacuum.

The European Union has already enacted its sweeping AI Act. That regulatory regime will not stop at Europe’s borders. American companies that operate globally will feel its force, and American users will feel the downstream effects.

If the United States adopts a posture of total federal non-engagement, it will not preserve a neutral market. It will hand the regulatory initiative to Brussels.

That would be a serious mistake. Europe does not regulate with American constitutional principles in mind. It regulates through a bureaucratic worldview that prizes centralized control over freedom. If Washington refuses to establish clear guardrails rooted in our own constitutional tradition, foreign regulators and multinational firms will fill the void.

Power without constitutional guardrails

AI is quickly becoming part of the infrastructure of modern life. These systems increasingly shape how information flows, how public opinion forms, and how daily choices get nudged.

That is power.

We have already watched major corporations use private power to shape public life. Social-media companies moderated, suppressed, and curated speech in ways that tilted public debate. Large firms adopted ESG frameworks that embedded political priorities into lending, hiring, and investment. In both cases, powerful institutions pushed ideological outcomes without a vote being cast or a law being passed.

Nothing suggests AI will escape those pressures.

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The companies building frontier systems carry their own assumptions, incentives, and cultural biases. If those assumptions get baked into foundational models — and those models then get integrated into education, finance, media, hiring, and governance — ideological influence will move from the margins to the infrastructure of society.

Yes, clumsy central planning would hurt innovation and weaken America’s position against China. But the answer cannot be blind faith that market incentives alone will protect liberty. That asks a great deal of institutions that have already shown a willingness to steer political and cultural outcomes in their preferred direction.

The real challenge is making sure extraordinary technological power develops inside a framework that respects constitutional rights, individual liberty, and personal autonomy.

A pro-liberty AI framework

The Trump administration is right to resist ideological manipulation in AI models and to oppose sweeping regimes that would handicap American innovation while China races ahead.

But someone will shape the boundaries of this technology. The only real question is whether those boundaries reflect American constitutional principles or the preferences of foreign regulators and corporate boards.

Red states such as Utah should be treated as allies in that effort, not obstacles. They can serve as proving ground for approaches that protect transparency, due process, free expression, and individual autonomy without strangling innovation.

Artificial intelligence will shape the next century more than any single statute. Total non-engagement may sound pro-growth, but in practice it leaves the foundational rules of the AI era to someone else.

The goal should be straightforward: Build an American AI future in which freedom is embedded from the start, and constitutional guardrails shape the systems that will increasingly shape us.

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Idaho is deep red. So why do leftist bureaucrats still run the show?



Idaho votes like a conservative juggernaut. Republicans hold the governor’s mansion, both legislative chambers, and every statewide office. Yet the administrative state still runs on autopilot, and progressives who never win at the ballot box keep their hands on levers of power.

Last week delivered a clean example. Estella Zamora, the 72-year-old vice president of the Idaho Human Rights Commission, lost her seat after Gov. Brad Little withdrew her reappointment. Progressive activists erupted. The press corps dutifully framed it as a purge. But the real scandal sits one step earlier: Little’s office initially recommended her for another term, as if nobody bothered to look.

President Trump’s ‘drain the swamp’ mandate doesn’t end at Maryland and Virginia’s borders. It reaches every state capital where permanent bureaucrats ignore the electorate.

That rubber-stamp culture explains how red-state voters keep getting blue-state governance.

Zamora held influence for more than three decades. She didn’t win it from voters. She inherited it from the system. A Democratic governor appointed her in the 1990s. Republican administrations kept renewing her anyway, term after term, until she became another “untouchable” fixture inside Idaho’s bureaucracy.

Only public pressure forced movement. Conservative activists and outlets like the Gem State Chronicle, along with our own program, Idaho Signal, highlighted Zamora’s political activism online. She appeared before the Senate State Affairs Committee on Jan. 28 as part of the reappointment process. Lawmakers asked questions. The public noticed. Little reversed course a few days later.

Little made the right call in the end. The process that led to the near-miss should worry every Idaho voter.

Zamora didn’t simply hold personal opinions. She couldn’t resist using her public platform to attack Immigration and Customs Enforcement, an agency charged with enforcing federal immigration law. Her posts pushed anti-ICE propaganda, circulated protest material, and condemned enforcement operations as “harmful.” She aligned herself with the activist line that treats border enforcement as a moral offense.

Idaho doesn’t need every commissioner to share the governor’s politics. Idaho does need commissioners who can credibly carry out their duties without turning a state post into a political megaphone. A human rights commission depends on public confidence. Activism that signals contempt for lawful enforcement undermines that confidence.

This isn’t a free-speech dispute. Zamora can say whatever she wants as a private citizen. Voters can judge it. Officials must still decide whether that behavior fits a role that demands impartiality and restraint.

Progressives are already shouting “censorship” and “partisan purge.” They’re portraying Zamora as some saintly Latina icon victimized for speaking out. That rhetoric flips the facts. Nobody owes a lifetime appointment to someone who campaigns against the policies Idaho voters repeatedly choose in overwhelming numbers at the ballot box. Public service carries conditions. When the public loses trust, leaders should act.

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The greater lesson extends beyond Zamora.

Idaho’s bureaucracy keeps reappointing the same figures because too many Republican offices treat commissions and boards as background noise. Staffers recycle names. Vetting becomes procedural. Appointments become habit. Progressives understand this weakness, so they play the long game: They entrench themselves in institutions that outlast elections.

That pattern repeats across the country. Red states elect Republican leaders. Agencies keep advancing progressive priorities through regulation, enforcement discretion, and institutional culture. The left loses elections and wins governance anyway.

Republican governors and legislators can’t keep solving this problem only after activists force their hand. They should audit commissions and boards, review reappointments with real scrutiny, and replace partisan operatives with people who respect the mission and the law without bias and without apology.

President Trump’s “drain the swamp” mandate doesn’t end at the Maryland and Virginia borders. It reaches every state capital where permanent bureaucrats ignore the electorate and treat public posts as ideological turf.

Idaho voters spoke loudly. The administrative state had better listen because we’re just getting started.

A one-way national divorce: Anarchy for them, coercion for us



Imagine the Confederates attacking Fort Sumter in April 1861 and Abraham Lincoln negotiating terms of separation instead of mustering troops. We would be two separate countries. In a limited but real sense, we now live in two countries anyway — because Donald Trump has ceded ground to blue-state mobs.

States like Minnesota, working in tandem with local politicians to obstruct a basic federal function — protecting national sovereignty — are latter-day Confederates. Blue states claim the power to nullify federal immigration enforcement inside their borders. That raises a question no one in Washington wants to answer: If blue states can thwart national sovereignty to protect illegal aliens, why can’t red states remove them?

Blue jurisdictions unify behind the proposition of protecting illegal aliens. Red jurisdictions rarely unify behind protecting Americans from political persecution.

This fight doesn’t hinge on Minneapolis or the specific riots that ended with two anti-ICE agitators dead. It reflects a sustained, coordinated campaign across blue cities: street militants, local Democrats, and friendly judges working in concert to shut down immigration enforcement. The activists don’t negotiate over “rules of engagement.” They aim to ban enforcement itself, at least anywhere Democrats hold power. Blue states now run a neo-Confederacy against one of the few legitimate functions of national government.

Now look at what happens on the other side of the divide. Some weak-kneed Republicans — James Comer of Kentucky among them — float the idea that Trump should leave blue cities to stew in their own sanctuary mess, as if the locals will eventually revolt. That fantasy collapses on contact with reality. Worse, ceding sovereignty to blue states hasn’t even produced more deportations in red states.

Courts have enjoined nearly every state statute that tries to treat illegal presence as a state crime. If red states attempted full-spectrum crackdowns under a Democrat president, the same judicial buzz saw would cut them down.

The result: Democrats can block federal law regardless of who sits in the White House, while red states can’t protect themselves when Democrats run the executive branch.

That asymmetry flows from something simple and ugly: Republicans don’t believe their own promises the way Democrats believe theirs. Republicans talk problems to death. Democrats build institutions.

Democrats staff agencies, cultivate prosecutors, and train judges to pursue a shared mission. Republicans often appoint people who treat their “mission” as career management and donor service.

Democrats built parallel systems designed to frustrate immigration enforcement under an opposing president. Conservatives in red states built little beyond press releases and campaign slogans.

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Democrats in Minnesota and elsewhere have effectively executed the state interposition James Madison described in Federalist 46.

“The disquietude of the people; their repugnance and, perhaps, refusal to co-operate with the officers of the Union; the frowns of the executive magistracy of the State; the embarrassments created by legislative devices … would oppose, in any State, difficulties not to be despised; would form, in a large State, very serious impediments,” Madison wrote. “And where the sentiments of several adjoining States happened to be in unison, would present obstructions which the federal government would hardly be willing to encounter.”

So the first step is to stir public “disquietude.” Then teach “repugnance” toward federal action. Encourage refusal to cooperate with “officers of the Union.” Then use the governor, legislature, and adjacent states “in unison” to create obstacles so severe that the federal government hesitates to enforce the law.

Blue states have followed that script with discipline. They align the branches. They coordinate the message. They deploy local officials to deny cooperation. They rely on judges in blue jurisdictions to shred the Immigration and Nationality Act, even when Congress tried to limit judicial interference, and they order illegal aliens released from custody.

The political class says the quiet part out loud. Minnesota Gov. Tim Walz (D) invoked Fort Sumter to describe his interposition against the federal government. Mayor Jacob Frey (D) declared that Minneapolis “does not, and will not, enforce federal immigration law.” Philadelphia DA Larry Krasner threatened to “hunt down” ICE agents he believes violated civil liberties, calling them “wannabe Nazis,” and promised to identify them and pursue them.

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Blue jurisdictions unify behind the proposition of protecting illegal aliens. Red jurisdictions rarely unify behind the proposition of protecting Americans from political persecution. Where did red-state leaders stand when the Biden Justice Department went after pro-lifers for praying outside abortion clinics? Where did they stand when federal authorities treated ordinary citizens like criminals for walking through the Capitol after barriers and rope lines moved?

Democrats now operate by a new rulebook: anarchy for their people, coercion for ours.

Republicans still operate as if the old system can save them. Even when a red-state leader shows spine, he often stands alone — without a legislature willing to act, without an attorney general willing to litigate, without courts willing to defend state interests.

Watching blue states succeed at sabotaging immigration enforcement under Trump should alarm everyone. A darker problem looms: the next Democrat Justice Department won’t limit itself to immigration. When it turns its machinery against Americans again, red states won’t have Madison’s “in unison” design ready to defend their citizens. They will prove as impotent against federal coercion as they have been against the importation of millions of illegal aliens.

Americans now live like second-class citizens while illegal aliens enjoy first-class protection — because the party that claims to represent Americans has failed at the most basic task of representation: fighting to win.

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America now looks like a marriage headed for divorce — with no exit



Marriages rarely end over one argument. They fall apart through a long breakdown in communication, a growing inability to resolve disagreements, and the slow realization that two people no longer walk toward the same future.

Healthy marriages don’t require full agreement on every subject. They require compromise on the decisions that shape daily life: money, children, priorities, responsibilities. They also require shared goals.

No tidy divorce court exists for a nation-state. We share one flag, one legal framework, and one public square.

When those goals diverge — and neither side will realign — the relationship becomes unsustainable. The law calls the condition “irreconcilable differences.”

America now lives in that condition.

We remain bound under one nation, one Constitution, and one civic home. But we no longer share a common purpose. We no longer share a common story about what the country is, why it exists, or whether it deserves to endure.

This conflict no longer turns on tax rates or regulatory policy. It turns on the legitimacy and direction of the American experiment itself.

The modern left no longer argues about how to preserve the American system. It treats the system as the problem. Democratic leaders and activists call for “fundamental transformation,” flirt with socialism, and talk about the founding less as a flawed but noble legacy than as a moral failure that demands replacement. In that worldview, America doesn’t need reform. America needs erasure.

The right still believes the country can be repaired and preserved. The left increasingly treats the country as something to dismantle.

This rupture shows up in concrete ways. In 2021, the National Archives placed a “harmful language” warning on the Constitution and the Declaration of Independence — the documents that define the nation. That doesn’t signal ordinary partisan dispute. It signals contempt for the country’s moral foundation.

Socialism sits at the center of this divide. It contradicts the American system at its roots. America rests on the premise that rights come from God, not government. Socialism elevates the state over the individual and makes rights conditional on political approval. It centralizes power in the name of enforced equality — “equity.”

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America protects private property as an extension of liberty. It channels ambition into innovation and prosperity. Socialism treats success as a social offense and demands equality of outcome. When people refuse to surrender the fruits of their labor, socialism turns to coercion. Coercion requires centralized authority. Centralized authority punishes dissent.

The pattern repeats: less freedom, greater dependency, and a governing model incompatible with constitutional self-rule.

The irony remains hard to miss. The left calls Donald Trump “Hitler” while cheering figures like New York City Mayor Zohran Mamdani, an avowed socialist. Yet the Nazi Party sold itself as the National Socialist German Workers’ Party — a collectivist project built on centralized power and state control.

The same left often excuses Antifa, a movement built on intimidation, street violence, and political enforcement designed to silence opposition. Those tactics don’t belong to liberal democracy. They belong to regimes that fear debate.

Even basic reality has become contested. The left and right can’t agree on something as elemental as what a man or a woman is. The Supreme Court recently showcased the collapse when ACLU attorneys arguing sex-based discrimination refused to define “woman.” When a society refuses to name biological facts that every civilization once treated as obvious, compromise collapses with it.

This crisis goes deeper than polarization. It reaches the level of knowledge itself. The left increasingly treats biology, history, and moral limits as malleable social constructs. The right still believes objective reality binds us all.

These aren’t normal disagreements. They describe incompatible worldviews. And incompatibility carries consequences.

During the COVID era, polls found majorities of Democrats willing to endorse coercive measures against the unvaccinated, including house arrest. Nearly half supported imprisoning people who questioned vaccine efficacy. Those numbers didn’t represent a fringe. They revealed a growing comfort with state force in service of ideological conformity.

After Trump’s 2016 election, many friendships survived political conflict. By 2020, after years of dehumanization — after constant accusations of “Nazism” aimed at ordinary voters — many of those relationships broke. The political battle stopped sounding like disagreement and started sounding like moral extermination.

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In September 2025, someone assassinated Charlie Kirk. Large segments of the left didn’t just rationalize the killing. Many celebrated it.

After Scott Adams died following a long fight with cancer, prominent voices responded with mockery instead of decency. People magazine ran a headline labeling him “disgraced.” Even death became a political verdict.

This is what irreconcilable differences look like at a national scale.

A country cannot endure when one side believes the nation stands as fundamentally good — worthy of preservation and reform — while the other believes it stands as irredeemably evil and must be dismantled. Marriages end when partners stop seeing each other as allies and start treating each other as enemies.

Nations fracture for the same reason.

America cannot solve this the way a couple dissolves a marriage. The Constitution binds us to one civic order. No clean separation awaits. No tidy divorce court exists for a nation-state. We share one flag, one legal framework, and one public square.

When irreconcilable differences exist but separation remains impossible, the danger grows.

Only three paths remain: recommitment to constitutional principles, enforced coexistence through expanding coercion, or escalation into open conflict as dehumanization becomes normal.

Pretending this amounts to another election cycle, another policy dispute, or another cable-news food fight invites catastrophe. A nation cannot survive when its people no longer agree on what it is, why it exists, or whether it deserves to continue.

Unlike a failed marriage, America can’t walk away.