How ‘structural racism’ came to dominate medical research



President Trump's recent push to send federal health care dollars directly to individuals, rather than insurers, reflects a broader demand for transparency and effectiveness in how public funds are used. Government-funded medical research, which forms the foundation of much clinical care, also requires such scrutiny.

In recent years, academic medicine has advanced a nebulous theory of “structural racism” that echoes the 19th century “miasma” theory, which blamed disease on “bad air.” Despite scant evidence, studies attempting to validate this vague framework have multiplied, often funded by largely unaware taxpayers. Refocusing federal research dollars on rigorous science and evidence-based care is essential to correcting this trajectory.

The incentives were clear: Few researchers — early-career or established — would decline funding in an area where the NIH was investing heavily.

How did this happen? The construct of “structural racism” was virtually absent from medical literature until a decade ago. Since then, it has become the default explanation in academic medicine for differences in health outcomes across racial and ethnic groups. Its rise accelerated during the 2020 anti-racism craze, which swept through corporate boardrooms and university administrations while also becoming a core ideological pillar of Black Lives Matter and other political movements.

Academic medicine was no exception. This philosophy quickly gained favor in medical education, academic health centers, elite journals, and professional associations, eventually influencing federal agencies that distribute research funding.

The result: a surge of grant-funded studies built on the premise that racism causes health disparities. Of the nearly 2,300 articles indexed under the term “structural racism” in PubMed, the U.S. National Library of Medicine’s database of leading biomedical and health journals, 95% were published after Jan. 1, 2020. In 2025 alone, PubMed lists 400 such papers — nearly four times the total published before 2020.

This proliferation has been supported by a tsunami of federal taxpayer dollars coming from the National Institutes of Health. From 2020 to 2025, an NIH database search found nearly 750 projects mentioning “structural racism” in their abstracts, totaling almost $533 million in funding. More than 70 of those projects were funded in 2025 at just under $40 million — significantly down from more than 220 projects in 2024 totaling $150 million, but still far above 2020, when only 12 projects received a little over $12 million in the aggregate. Before 2020, the NIH had funded just 10 such projects at a combined cost of $4 million.

Funding patterns across NIH’s 27 Institutes and Centers from 2020 to 2025 make clear that ideology, not medical science, drove much of this growth. The largest investments came from the National Institute on Drug Abuse ($147 million in total funding), National Institute on Minority Health and Health Disparities ($70 million), and National Institute on Aging ($57 million), each pouring substantial resources into “structural racism” research.

In 2025, for example, NIDA supported a project under the Healthy Brain and Child Development National Consortium that identified “structural racism” as a risk to babies before and after birth, alongside more recognizable factors like maternal health, toxic exposures, and child abuse — thereby conflating an abstract, ill-defined, and ideological social theory with measurable, scientific variables as a threat to child development.

Also in 2025, NIMHD funded the Clinical Research Scholars Training program, a “health-equity focused” initiative created in part due to NIH calls for research on “the impact of structural racism and discrimination on health disparities.” Eligibility for this program was limited to those deemed “underrepresented in biomedical research.” All others need not apply.

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And just last year, a NIA-funded project invoked “interrelated systems of structural racism” and “race-specific stress” as risk factors for Alzheimer’s disease and cognitive decline, diverting attention and resources away from well-established contributors such as genetics, medical conditions, lifestyle and environmental factors, and core biological mechanisms like amyloid plaques and tau tangles.

Unfortunately, a commitment to science gave way to ideology years ago. Under Francis Collins, the NIH “acknowledged and committed to ending structural racism,” without even defining the concept itself. “Structural racism” was accepted despite its questionable validity and lack of explanatory power.

With vague boundaries and mechanisms difficult to measure, claims of “structural racism” far exceeded the empirical evidence. Nevertheless, the idea was accepted wholesale and used to justify a wave of DEI initiatives, effectively recasting the NIH as an “anti-racist” institution in the Ibram X. Kendi mold. Objective science was no longer sufficient; the agency was expected to take an activist stance.

Proponents embraced this shift, seeing an opportunity to move health research from “individual-level risk, health behavior, and functioning” to “structural level concepts” with “structural racism” named specifically. Research dollars supported tools like the Structural Racism Effect Index to “guide policies and investments to advance health equity.”

The incentives were clear: Few researchers — early-career or established — would decline funding in an area where the NIH was investing heavily, especially when that support could provide a path to publication in top journals.

Yet the instruments used to quantify “structural racism” expose a basic flaw: They don’t measure racism.

The SREI’s nine dimensions, for example, largely track socioeconomic conditions — wealth, income, housing, employment. In practice, a high score identifies communities facing poverty. Even researchers linking SREI scores to hypertension, obesity, smoking, and low physical activity concede they “cannot make causal inferences.”

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These health risks may result from poverty, contribute to it, or arise from entirely different causes. Labeling them as products of “structural racism” adds no explanatory value, miscasts economic hardship as race-based, and downplays individual responsibility. It overshadows far more consequential drivers of outcome disparities, including access to care, personal choice, medical comorbidities, and genetics.

Nonetheless, no alternative explanation for health disparities has received anywhere near the same attention in leading medical journals — such as the New England Journal of Medicine, Lancet, and JAMA — as “structural racism.” This concept has been treated as settled fact, with disparities alone offered as proof: If disparities exist, racism must be the cause. Likewise, many medical organizations have reinforced this view through policies and position papers that embed an anti-racism framework into scientific inquiry.

But change is in the air. The NIH’s recent miasma-like fixation on “structural racism” is finally clearing. Under Director Jay Bhattacharya, the agency is refocusing on its core mission of funding rigorous, evidence-based science rather than ideology-driven research. This shift will direct scarce taxpayer dollars toward work grounded in medical science and its practical application — research that can genuinely improve health rather than feed political currents.

This course correction is timely, and while sustained effort in 2026 will be needed to fully restore the NIH to its rightful mission, taxpayers can take comfort: America’s leading biomedical and medical science research institute will once again prioritize their dollars and their health.

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

Civil courts check the powerful. This Republican wants them weaker.



A new bill before Congress claims it will curb lawsuit abuse. It won’t. In reality, it will limit ordinary Americans’ access to civil courts.

The Protect Third Party Litigation Funding from Abuse Act, sponsored by Rep. Darrell Issa (R-Calif.), would force plaintiffs in “any civil action” to disclose “the identity of any person (other than counsel of record) that has a legal right to receive any payment or thing of value” from the case.

Third-party funding is not clogging courts. It expands access to justice.

Plaintiffs would need to provide that information to defendants and the court. Anyone with a functioning brain can see what will happen next: The names leak, activists and corporate PR shops pick targets, and the people financing the lawsuit get punished for it.

If that sounds like a blackmail scheme, it is. And it would be perfectly legal.

Third-party litigation funding works like this: An individual, company, or organization advances money to a plaintiff or law firm to cover the costs of a lawsuit. In exchange, the funder receives a share of any judgment or settlement. If the plaintiff loses, the funder gets nothing.

The arrangement exists for a reason. Lawsuits can be expensive. Complex cases require investigators, expert witnesses, depositions, document review, and months or years of legal work. Deep-pocketed defendants know they can bury a plaintiff under delays, discovery fights, and endless motions while the meter runs at hundreds (sometimes thousands) of dollars an hour.

Litigation funding helps level that field. It gives plaintiffs a fighting chance against defendants who can afford to grind them down.

Issa calls this “abuse” because hedge funds and speculators sometimes fund cases in hopes of a return. “We believe that if a third-party investor is financing a lawsuit in federal court, it should be disclosed rather than hidden from the world,” Issa said when he announced the bill.

That sounds reasonable only if you ignore what trials are for.

A civil trial asks three questions: Did the defendant do what the plaintiff alleges? Did the defendant’s actions cause harm? If so, what were the damages (if any)? The identity of a funder does not help a jury answer any of them. If anything, it distracts from the merits and invites a side show: the defendant arguing the plaintiff is a puppet and the case is illegitimate because someone with money helped pay the bills. That argument deserves no special protection.

What counts is what the defendant did or didn’t do and whether it hurt the plaintiff. Who finances the plaintiff’s lawyers doesn’t change the facts of the case.

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A successful plaintiff also has the right to spend an award as he or she chooses, including paying debts and obligations incurred to bring the case. Issa’s bill would chill that option by scaring off funders through forced disclosure. The bill doesn’t touch defendants, who can hire every white-shoe law firm on the planet. It targets the side that usually needs help.

Issa’s bill also pretends it’s solving a crisis that doesn’t exist. The number of lawsuits filed each year in the United States, at both state and federal levels, has fallen by roughly one-third since 2012, according to Consumer Shield. Meanwhile fewer than 1% of state civil cases go to trial, and fewer than 2% of federal civil cases do. Most settle or get dismissed. Third-party funding is not clogging courts. It expands access to justice.

The bill also reaches far beyond any plausible federal interest. Federal cases account for only about 1.4% of civil litigation nationwide. States already have authority to regulate litigation funding — and some have. As of July 2025, seven states — Indiana, Kansas, Louisiana, Montana, Oklahoma, West Virginia, and Wisconsin — had regulations governing litigation funding, according to the Washington Legal Foundation. The fact that most states haven’t bothered tells you what lawmakers think: This isn’t a pressing problem.

The broader claim — that litigation funding drives frivolous suits — fails under scrutiny. A 2022 report from the U.S. Government Accountability Office found funders vet cases carefully and avoid interfering in litigation. They do that for a simple reason: They get paid only if the claim succeeds. The report put it plainly: “Funders select the most meritorious cases to fund because they only receive returns when claims are successful.”

Economic reality imposes its own discipline. Third-party funding does not “abuse” the system. It democratizes access to it.

Issa’s bill would do the opposite. By threatening people who finance lawsuits, it would tilt the playing field further toward big corporations and the ultra-wealthy — the parties most able to outspend and outlast everyone else.

Like it or not, civil suits help keep a free society free. They allow ordinary people to hold powerful actors accountable for harm. Restricting access to courts doesn’t stop abuse. It increases it — by giving the powerful more insulation from consequences. That’s the kind of “reform” Americans don’t need.

The reform every society needs: Stop mistaking shock for success



Years ago, I worked in a large office building with a woman who walked with a terrible limp. Not a slight hitch, but a pronounced, jarring gait caused by a car accident that left her with significant bone loss in one leg. She was a delightful person, but no one could ignore the limp. It shaped how she moved through the world and, at times, how the world responded to her.

She lived that way for more than 25 years.

Liberation may begin with a D-Day assault or a precision, middle-of-the-night special-forces strike, but rehabilitation always moves slower.

Then one morning, everything changed.

She walked into the office upright and steady. No limp. No sway. Her posture looked different. Her face looked different. The transformation was so striking, people stopped what they were doing just to stare.

An orthotist had fitted her with a lift for her shoe. For the first time in decades, her body was aligned.

It felt dramatic. It felt hopeful.

Three weeks later, she showed up at work limping again.

When I asked what happened, she looked down and said quietly, “It was too painful.”

For years, that story stayed with me. I assumed she should have pushed through the discomfort. If she really wanted to walk straight, I thought, she would have endured the pain. I put the burden on her.

Decades later, while talking with the man who makes my wife’s prosthetic legs — who is also a certified orthotist — I mentioned the story. He didn’t hesitate.

“That was the orthotist’s fault.”

With that degree of limb difference, he explained, correction must happen in small increments over time. You do not force a body that has adapted to damage for decades into alignment overnight. The shock alone can undo the good you intend. Pain, in that case, isn’t weakness. It’s warning.

The problem was never the goal of walking straight. It was the pace. The change looked impressive, but it couldn’t last.

Had she been guided wisely, she might still be walking straight today.

That realization reshaped how I think about far more than posture and gait.

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We talk a lot about sustainability, but the word often gets treated as corporate jargon. In real life, it means something simpler: Can you keep going without being damaged by the very solution meant to help you?

The question isn’t whether disruption can be endured for a season. The question is what happens when it lasts long enough to reshape the body, the household, or even a culture itself.

The longer misalignment persists, the more people adjust to it. Not because it’s right, but because it becomes familiar.

I think of family caregivers who, like that woman, adapt to dysfunction. They normalize exhaustion. They compensate for imbalance. What once felt untenable becomes routine. The standard slowly drops, and despair and resentment find room to grow.

This pattern doesn’t stop with individuals.

It shows up in institutions and nations, especially those emerging from long seasons of corruption, fear, or misrule. The fraud being uncovered in Minnesota will not be corrected quickly. Venezuela didn’t unravel overnight, and it won’t be restored all at once. Iran won’t shed decades of tyranny through slogans or spectacle. Systems deformed over time don’t heal on announcement alone.

Liberation may begin with a D-Day assault or a precision, middle-of-the-night special-forces strike, but rehabilitation always moves slower. Hard ground is taken a little at a time. Institutions get rebuilt inch by inch. The work costs money. It lacks glamour. No one escapes it.

Trying to fix everything at once is like forcing a damaged body into alignment without preparation. The result may look decisive, but it often collapses under its own weight.

This is where leadership gets tested.

Not by how loudly change is declared, but by whether it can be endured.

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Real leadership doesn’t just name what’s wrong. It requires patience and competence. It understands limits. It moves deliberately. It produces progress people can live with — and live inside — over time.

People can endure difficult change when it leads somewhere stable. What they can’t endure is repeated pain with no lasting gain.

A deliberate pace doesn’t mean abandoning the goal. Real leadership — whether for a caregiver or a nation — recognizes the trauma that brought us here. It refuses to confuse speed with progress. It commits instead to patient steps that straighten what has been bent without breaking what remains.

That kind of leadership doesn’t rush healing. It makes healing possible.

For caregivers, for communities, and for nations, alignment imposed too quickly can injure the very people it claims to help. Alignment applied with patience, competence, and resolve can change a life permanently.

That woman wanted to walk straight. She simply needed someone wise enough to guide her there.

For once, Medicare is trying something that actually saves money



Medicare is the second-largest program in the federal budget, topping $1 trillion last year. In 2023, it accounted for 14% of federal spending — a share projected to reach 18% by 2032. After years of ballooning costs, something is finally being done to slow the growth. A new Medicare pilot program, the Wasteful and Inappropriate Service Reduction model, borrows a successful private-sector tool: prior authorization. And that’s good news.

Medicare Part B premiums now sit at $185 per month — up 28% from five years ago and a staggering 76% since 2015. Last year, 12% of the 61 million Americans enrolled in Part B spent more than a tenth of their annual income on premiums. That burden is unsustainable.

In a system as expensive and fragmented as ours, no one can afford to keep writing blank checks for low-value care.

WISeR, set to launch in Ohio, Texas, Washington, New Jersey, Arizona, and Oklahoma, will require prior approval for a short list of “low-value” services — procedures that research shows are frequently overused, costly, and sometimes harmful.

To some, the idea of Medicare reviewing certain treatments before covering them may sound like red tape. But when done correctly, prior authorization is not a barrier. It is a guardrail — one that protects patients, improves quality, and helps ensure that both tax dollars and premiums are spent appropriately.

The goal of WISeR is simple: Cut unnecessary treatments and shift resources toward more effective, evidence-based care. Critics warn about the possibility of delays or extra paperwork, and those concerns are worth monitoring. But they don’t negate prior authorization’s potential to make U.S. health care safer, more efficient, and more financially stable.

Prior authorization directly targets some of the most persistent problems in health care. Medicare spends billions each year on low-value services. A 2023 study identified just 47 such services that together cost Medicare more than $4 billion annually. Those are taxpayer dollars that could be put to better use.

The private insurance market shows the same pattern: unnecessary imaging, avoidable specialist referrals, and brand-name drugs chosen over generics all contribute to rising premiums. Prior authorization, when used properly, reins in this waste by ensuring coverage lines up with medical necessity and evidence-based best practices. Research from the University of Chicago shows that Medicare’s prior authorization rules for prescription drugs generate net savings even after administrative costs.

Consider one striking example. Medicare Part B covers wound-care products known as skin substitutes. But an Office of Inspector General report found that expenditures on these products skyrocketed over the past two years to more than $10 billion annually. Meanwhile, Medicare Advantage plans — which rely heavily on prior authorization — spent only a fraction of that amount for the same treatments.

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More importantly, prior authorization helps promote evidence-based medicine. It curbs outdated clinical habits and reduces financial incentives to overtreat. Health plans consistently say that prior authorization aligns care with gold-standard clinical guidelines, particularly in areas prone to misuse.

Of course, the system must be designed responsibly. A well-functioning PA process should be transparent, fast, and grounded in strong clinical evidence. Decisions should be made in close coordination with the patient’s treating provider. The appeals process must be straightforward. And both public and private payers should be held accountable for improper denials or harmful delays.

When structured this way, prior authorization is far more efficient than the current “pay-and-chase” model, where Medicare pays first and tries to recover improper payments later.

Prior authorization already works in the private sector. It can work in Medicare.

Public and private payers have an obligation to steward the dollars they spend — whether those dollars come from taxpayers or premium-payers. In a system as expensive and fragmented as ours, no one can afford to keep writing blank checks for low-value care. When implemented wisely, prior authorization keeps coverage aligned with medical necessity, elevates the value of care, and helps deliver better outcomes at a sustainable cost.

While the lights are off, let’s rewire the government



The United States faces an existential threat from the accelerating military power of communist China — a buildup fueled by decades of massive economic expansion. If America intends to counter Beijing’s ambitions, it must grow faster, leaner, and more efficient. Economic strength is national security.

The ongoing government shutdown may not be popular, but it gives President Trump a rare opportunity to make good on his campaign pledge to drain — and redesign — “the swamp.” Streamlining the federal government isn’t just good politics. It’s a matter of survival.

A government that builds wealth rather than expands debt can out-produce China, sustain deterrence, and restore the American ideal of self-government.

George Washington ran the nation with four Cabinet departments: war, treasury, state, and the attorney general. The Department of the Interior came later, followed by the Department of Agriculture, added by Abraham Lincoln in 1862 when America was an agrarian power.

The modern Cabinet, by contrast, is a bureaucratic junkyard built more in reaction to political problems than by design. The Labor Department was carved from the Commerce Department to appease the unions. Lyndon Johnson invented the Department of Transportation. Jimmy Carter established the Department of Energy in response to the Arab oil embargo. The Department of Homeland Security and the Office of the Director of National Intelligence emerged after 9/11.

The result is a patchwork of agencies wired together with duct tape, overlap, and patronage. A government designed for crisis management has become a permanent crisis unto itself.

Enter the Department of National Economy

A return to first principles starts with a single question: How can we accelerate American productivity?

The answer: consolidate. Merge the Departments of Commerce, Labor, Agriculture, Transportation, and Energy into a Department of National Economy. One Cabinet secretary, five undersecretaries, one mission: to expand the flow of goods and services that generate national wealth.

The new department’s motto should be a straightforward question: What did your enterprise do today to increase the wealth of the United States?

Fewer bureaucracies mean fewer fiefdoms, less redundancy, and enormous cost savings. Synergy replaces stovepipes. The government’s economic engine becomes a single machine instead of six competing engines running on taxpayer fuel.

Fold Homeland Security into the Coast Guard

Homeland Security should be absorbed by the U.S. Coast Guard, which already functions as a paramilitary force with both military and police authority, much like Italy’s Carabinieri. Under the Uniform Code of Military Justice, DHS personnel would share discipline, training, and accountability.

FEMA would cease to be a dumping ground for political hacks. Any discrimination in disaster aid — such as punishing Trump voters — would trigger a court-martial.

The Secret Service would focus solely on protective duties, handing its financial-crime work to the FBI. The secretary of the Coast Guard would gain a seat in the Cabinet.

Restoring intelligence to the OSS model

The Office of Director of National Intelligence should be re-established as the Office of Strategic Services, commanded by a figure in the tradition of Major General “Wild Bill” Donovan. Elements of U.S. Special Operations Command would be seconded to the new OSS, reviving its World War II lineage.

All intelligence agencies — CIA, DIA, FBI, the State Department, DEA, and the service branches — should share common foundational training. The current decline in discipline and capability at the National Intelligence University, worsened by the DEI policies of its leadership, demands urgent correction. Diversity cannot come at the expense of competence.

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Law enforcement and the flat tax

At the Department of Justice, dissolve the Bureau of Alcohol, Tobacco, Firearms and Explosives. Shift alcohol and tobacco oversight to the DEA, firearms and explosives to the U.S. Marshals.

Let the DEA also absorb the Food and Drug Administration, which would become its research and standards division.

Return the FBI to pure investigation — armed but without arrest powers. Enforcement should rest with the U.S. Marshals. Counterintelligence would move to the Defense Counterintelligence and Security Agency, reinforced by the Naval Criminal Investigative Service.

The IRS should be dismantled and replaced with a small agency built around a flat-tax model such as the Hall-Rabushka plan.

Move the Department of Health and Human Services’ Administration for Strategic Preparedness and Response to Homeland Security. Send its Office of Climate Change and Health Equity to NOAA — or eliminate it entirely.

At the Department of Housing and Urban Development, expand the inspector general’s office tenfold and pay bonuses for rooting out fraud.

Restoring deterrence

The Pentagon needs its own overhaul. Because of China’s rapid military buildup, the Air Force’s Global Strike Command should be separated from U.S. Strategic Command and report directly to the secretary of war and the president under its historic name — Strategic Air Command.

Submarines and silos are invisible; bombers are not. Deterrence depends on visibility. A line of B-1s, B-2s, B-52s, and 100 new B-21 Raider stealth bombers, all bearing the mailed-fist insignia of the old SAC, would send an unmistakable message to Beijing.

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Toward a leaner republic

With Trump back in the White House, this moment is ripe for radical efficiency. A government that builds wealth rather than expands debt can out-produce China, sustain deterrence, and restore the American ideal of self-government.

George Washington’s government fit inside a single carriage. We won’t return to that scale — but we can rediscover that spirit. A lean, unified, strategically organized government would make wealth creation easier, limit bureaucratic overreach, and preserve the republic for the long fight ahead.

Disabled vets denied dignity as VA claim backlog becomes unbearable



My husband and I visited our families for Independence Day. For millions of Americans, that's a typical summer tradition. For us, it was an extraordinary day. Kyle is an active-duty naval officer who has spent several years of our marriage deployed overseas and across the United States.

Kyle and I expected the challenges of military life: the deployments, the stresses on mental health, even the risk of homelessness or divorce that looms over many military families. Yet the one issue we weren’t prepared for — one we are keenly aware of as Kyle approaches retirement — is the shock of seeing firsthand the Department of Veterans Affairs repeatedly fail those who have served.

The VA made all veterans a promise: dedicated care after service. Today, that promise is broken daily.

From December 2023 until June of this year, I served as the ombudsman for my husband's ship, the USS Harry S. Truman. My role was to bridge the gap between command and families, ensuring that they had access to critical resources and could reach command in case of emergency. In that position, I watched closely as families ahead of ours navigated life after active service, applying for the VA benefits they had been promised.

What I’ve observed is nothing short of betrayal.

A broken promise

Veterans aren't just denied their hard-earned benefits by bureaucratic red tape. Their entire lives are often put on hold, causing untold mental health, family, and professional suffering in addition to what is endured during deployments.

One of the most common struggles veterans and their families face is the historic backlog of claims at the Department of Veterans Affairs. While the number has improved in recent months, nearly 185,000 backlogged disability claims remained unprocessed as of June.

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Veterans regularly spend months — or even years — in limbo, trying to secure the benefits they’ve earned while dealing with disabilities incurred while serving.

Partially disabled veterans with treatable conditions like tinnitus or various levels of post-traumatic stress disorder want to work in the private sector, but they need specialized care to do so. Getting approval for that care is a nightmare, with many giving up altogether or resorting to expensive — or sometimes shady — advocates for assistance.

Lawmakers must step in

That's why states and Congress must intervene where the VA has failed. In Rhode Island — my home state and possibly our future home — the legislature introduced the Save Act, a state-level version of the federal Choice Act. Both bills aim to expedite the benefits process by allowing veterans to hire certified consultants. Importantly, these measures would safeguard veterans from exploitation by setting payment caps, ensuring that providers have VA approval, and mandating that consultants only receive payment after veterans do.

Unfortunately, Rhode Island's legislature rejected the Save Act, instead passing a more restrictive bill that prohibits veterans from consulting experts during their initial claims for benefits. Despite this setback, momentum in several states and Congress to support veterans is encouraging.

Department of Veterans Affairs Secretary Doug Collins says he’s made progress on the backlog, but decades of mismanagement and corruption can’t be unwound in a matter of months. Moreover, a supposed 25% reduction in claims backlog raises troubling questions: How many veterans were hastily denied to meet bureaucratic quotas?

I’ll be old and gray before this bureaucratic nightmare is fixed — if ever.

Our veterans deserve better

When Kyle first raised his right hand, America made him — and all veterans — a promise: dedicated care after service. It’s the same promise that has been made to veterans for decades in return for enduring stressful deployments, risking both their lives and family bonds. Today, that promise is broken daily. Families are subjected to unbearable delays and bureaucratic hurdles, often forced to fight for benefits they've already earned or tragically never receive.

I’ll always cherish Independence Day 2025, which took us up and down much of the East Coast — together, for once, as an entire family. It offered a glimpse into the life we dream of when Kyle retires — a life we earned together through sacrifice. The VA should help us realize that dream, not obstruct it.

It's past time for lawmakers and VA leadership to fulfill their obligations and put veterans first.

This conservative fix — without protections — could help Democrats rig elections



Conservatives across the country are building momentum to clean up elections. Donald Trump’s proposals call for paper ballots, voter ID, and in-person voting on Election Day only. These reforms would mark a major improvement over the chaotic 2020 election — when Joe Biden somehow received more votes than any presidential candidate in history.

But tightening election procedures also risks reviving an old Democratic trick: voter suppression.

The inability to print a ballot is ultimately no different than a refusal to provide a ballot to a voter. It is voter suppression.

In an ideal system, voting would happen exclusively on paper ballots and in person. No mail-ins. No drop boxes. ID required.

However, to counter suppression efforts in Republican precincts, polls should remain open for several days — perhaps even a full week. Extending in-person voting would allow voters to push back against the tactics designed to keep them home.

I am well aware of how voter suppression works because I have the scars to prove it. When I started voting in Travis County (Austin), Texas, in the 1980s, ballot suppression in Republican precincts was an established protocol by the Democrats who ran the county. The strategy was two-pronged:

Insufficient voting booths: Conservative precincts were provided very few voting booths, causing extremely long lines. I watched many people drive up, look at the line, then drive away. Many other would-be voters already in line would finally give up and forgo voting. While my precinct had four or five booths, I’d later watch the evening news show Democratic precincts outfitted with dozens.

Ballot shortages: It was a predictable occurrence that Republican precincts would run out of ballots before the polls closed due to “unexpectedly” high turnout. Those in line could either wait for hours until someone showed up with “provisional” ballots, or they could give up. Most people would not wait in line until 10 p.m. just to cast a vote.

Not enough ballots

I was in the habit of voting first thing in the morning on Election Day to ensure I got a ballot. Even though the wait was long due to the bottleneck caused by so few voting booths, I would at least get my vote in. But the ballot I cast also resulted in a missing ballot for someone else trying to vote later in the day, as Democratic officials who ran the county made sure that there were fewer ballots than voters in my precinct.

The county elections administrator always had an excuse for the ballot shortages in Republican precincts. She’d cite a local statute that required her to allocate ballots based on average county turnout. Since Republican precincts had higher voter turnout than the county as a whole, shortages were guaranteed — by design.

When early voting finally came about several years later, I was thrilled. I was tired of battling my own county officials just to cast a Republican vote.

Decades later, these tactics are still in use.

The recent Wisconsin Supreme Court election, for example, drew national attention because the outcome could affect midterm Congressional redistricting, which could then swing control of the U.S. House of Representatives from Republican to Democrat.

On Election Day in Milwaukee, 69 of its 180 precincts reported ballot shortages, and nine precincts ran out of ballots completely. Milwaukee’s top election official offered a familiar excuse: Ballots were printed based on past turnout. But voter participation surged to 50%, far above normal for a spring election. It was “unexpected.”

Some conservatives pushing for same-day voting likely haven’t considered that those in charge of ballot preparation might simply not provide enough.

Ballot printing — or lack thereof

Another method of voter suppression involves ballot printing. If the printer “breaks,” there’s no ballot to cast. This tactic has benefited Democrats in recent elections, such as in Phoenix, Arizona’s Maricopa County, and Texas’ Harris County.

In the 2022 Arizona gubernatorial election, Republican Kari Lake narrowly lost by 17,000 votes out of 2.5 million counted ballots. Long lines due to printer problems caused many Arizonans to give up and leave before voting. Moreover, thousands of ballots that were printed could not be read by ballot-counting machines.

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Similarly, in the 2022 gubernatorial election in Texas, printer problems prevented many voters in Republican precincts around Houston from being able to obtain a ballot. As reported by the Houston Chronicle, a few days after the election, “More than a dozen voting locations in Harris County ran out of the paper used to print ballots in voting machines Tuesday, county officials confirmed. Some sites, poll workers and voters said, had no ballots on hand for one to two hours.”

“From our standpoint, it seems there was an attempt to make sure there were not enough ballots at Republican polls,” the chairman of the Harris County GOP told the Chronicle. The inability to print a ballot is ultimately no different than a refusal to provide a ballot to a voter. It is voter suppression.

Ample ballots, ample booths

If we are going to use all-paper ballots, states need to mandate that each precinct open on Election Day with enough printed ballots for every registered voter. Any unused ballots must be destroyed after polls close to protect election integrity.

There also must be enough voting booths to ensure that long lines don’t become a voting deterrent.

Personally, I’d prefer that in-person, paper ballot voting be allowed over several days to ensure that Democrats cannot engage in Election Day voter suppression tactics. One suppressed Republican ballot carries the same weight as one fraudulent Democratic vote stuffed in a ballot box.

Trump’s SEC pick would blow up Biden’s lawless financial agenda



The media’s narrative has done its job. Many Americans now see Donald J. Trump not as a reformer but as a symbol of corruption. That perception is both dishonest and deeply misleading.

The reality? The first 100 days of Trump’s second term leave no doubt about his goal: to reform and remake the federal government.

Reform should mean growing the economy, not growing the bureaucracy.

It’s about time. Too many unelected bureaucrats accountable to no one infest the federal government like roaches, wielding unchecked power over our lives, liberty, and happiness. They treat the mandate for reform as a nuisance. Their mission: obstruct Trump’s appointees and protect the status quo.

Organizations like the U.S. Agency for International Development and the Voice of America have deservedly drawn the president’s attention. But many others deserve the same scrutiny. One that stands out is the Securities and Exchange Commission, which repeatedly overstepped its authority during the Biden years, using vague regulatory powers to impose sweeping social mandates under the guise of financial oversight.

Trump tapped former SEC Commissioner Paul Atkins to fix it. As chairman, Atkins can be counted on to take a best-practices approach to administrative responsibilities and to ensure that the SEC conducts its mission as described by the law: “facilitate capital formation; maintain fair, orderly, and efficient markets; and protect investors.”

That’s a welcome clarification of responsibility. Gary Gensler, who ran the SEC for Joe Biden, was often accused of having a reach that exceeded legitimate bounds, as when, for example, he tried to regulate the market for precious metals.

Gold and silver are not securities. Neither are individual retirement accounts. Yet the Gensler-era SEC attempted to assert authority over companies offering precious-metals IRAs to individuals and families who wish to own gold and silver.

As the Heritage Foundation’s David Burton told the House Financial Services Committee in March 2024, “The commission is statutorily required to promote efficiency, competition, and capital formation by responsible participants in the capital markets.” Still, under the Biden administration, “it increasingly does the opposite.”

John Gulliver of the Committee on Capital Markets Regulation told the same committee that Gensler’s SEC had “an unprecedented rulemaking agenda that will radically redesign the regulation of our securities markets and will have a major impact on the cost of being a public company and investing in our markets.”

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Photo by Tom Brenner for the Washington Post via Getty Images

Atkins can and must guide the SEC away from such nonsense. As CEO of Patomak Global Partners, Atkins oversaw the development of best practices for managing digital assets. Congress should follow his lead wherever it may go, solidifying his reforms into law and preventing the agency from trying to regulate financial instruments that are not securities.

The overreach matters. The United States is in a race with China for cryptocurrency dominance. The winner gets to establish the terms under which everyone else must live. It’s no surprise that the SEC’s failure to establish what Burton called “basic rules for responsible actors to follow” undermines America’s ability to take the lead.

“I am not entirely sure whether this irresponsible failure to provide basic rules is a function of the limited understanding of those charged with regulating in this area or their desire to simply have no rules so that the commission can engage in regulation by enforcement,” Burton told the committee.

Regulation by enforcement doesn’t just stifle innovation — it cripples the economy. It may also violate new limits the U.S. Supreme Court just imposed on federal agencies in Loper Bright Enterprises v. Raimondo, which ended the Chevron deference doctrine.

But Atkins can’t fix the SEC alone. Congress must step in and rewrite the law to bar the commission from using backdoor tactics to seize authority over emerging markets and financial technologies.

If lawmakers fail, they’ll guarantee a future where financial technology innovation gets strangled in red tape while real fraudsters skate by untouched. That’s bad news not just for entrepreneurs, but for America’s investors — roughly half the population — who rely on strong markets to secure their retirements.

Reform should mean growing the economy, not growing the bureaucracy. With Atkins at the helm, the SEC finally has a chance to get back to doing what it was meant to do.

West Point Trades Real Reform For Illusory Paper Compliance

If the academy cannot produce officers loyal to the Constitution, its leadership is not just failing, it is compromising national security.

Patel’s plan to dismantle the deep state starts with a moving van



The time has come to dismantle the FBI as we’ve known it — and rebuild it into the law enforcement agency it was always supposed to be.

Under former Director Christopher Wray, the FBI became a political weapon. It targeted thousands of Americans, including former President Donald Trump, whose Mar-a-Lago estate was raided in 2022 over “key classified documents.” At the same time, Joe Biden had his own stash of classified material at his Delaware home, which he allegedly took as Barack Obama’s vice president, but the FBI dragged its feet before lifting a finger.

This isn’t just a logistical shift — it’s a symbolic one. A once-centralized, politicized agency now has a chance to rebuild credibility, brick by brick, city by city.

The bureau’s double standards didn’t stop there. Agents monitored citizens for their social media posts and even flagged Christians based solely on their religious beliefs. This isn’t law enforcement — it’s ideological policing.

Now, with Wray gone and Kash Patel stepping in, the FBI has reached a crossroads. And Patel has already announced a major shift. Change can’t come fast enough.

Moving out

Patel recently announced on Fox News that the FBI plans to vacate its longtime home at the J. Edgar Hoover Building in Washington, D.C., and disperse more than 1,500 active employees to field offices nationwide.

This is welcome news — for several reasons.

First, keeping the FBI’s nerve center in D.C. creates obvious political risks. It placed the bureau within easy reach of powerful politicians eager to influence investigations — something President Biden has reportedly taken advantage of more than once. Centralizing the agency in one building also posed a glaring security risk. A single well-coordinated attack could have crippled the FBI’s operations.

Second, the Hoover Building itself has deteriorated significantly. The Biden administration showed no interest in restoring it. Patel’s plan doesn’t just address a structural issue — it signals a cultural shift.

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Photo by Chip Somodevilla/Getty Images

“We want the American men and women to know if you’re going to come work at the premier law enforcement agency in the world, we’re going to give you a building that’s commensurate with that, and that’s not this place,” Patel said.

The goal is clear: decentralize power, reduce vulnerability, and rebuild the bureau’s credibility from the ground up.

Time to rebuild

This move offers real benefits.

Dispersing FBI agents across the country allows them to respond more quickly to cases without relying on costly, time-consuming travel. Imagine a homicide investigation that requires FBI involvement. Instead of waiting days for special agents to arrive from Washington, a local team can jump in immediately. That keeps cases from stalling and gets justice moving faster.

It also improves coordination with local law enforcement. For years, under Wray, cooperation often felt strained or disjointed. Decentralization gives agents a better chance to build working relationships with police departments on the ground. That alone marks a major improvement.

But the real win? Breaking from the old image of what the FBI had become.

This isn’t just a logistical shift — it’s a symbolic one. A once-centralized, politicized agency now has a chance to rebuild credibility, brick by brick, city by city.

As I’ve said, keeping the FBI in the J. Edgar Hoover Building only reinforces the agency’s worst associations. That building still bears the scars of Director Wray’s missteps — and before him, James Comey, whose antagonism toward President Trump in 2017 got him fired.

(And judging from recent headlines, Comey still hasn’t taken the firing well.)

This move offers the FBI a much-needed reset. It gives the agency a chance to move past its baggage and build something more effective, transparent, and accountable. Credit to Patel — and likely Trump — for making the call. FBI agents deserve the opportunity to leave behind the cloud of corruption and step into something better.

I’m eager to see how this changes the bureau — not just for agents but for law enforcement as a whole.