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Andrew Beck has articulated a thick version of the assimilation of immigrants (rightly so, in my view) that harkens back to the spirit of Americanization that was prevalent from the Founding to roughly the 1960s. Louis Brandeis, a liberal and political ally of the detestable Woodrow Wilson, expressed this common idea of assimilation in his July 5, 1915, Americanization Day Speech:

What is Americanization? It manifests itself, in a superficial way, when the immigrant adopts the clothes, the manners and the customs generally prevailing here. Far more important is the manifestation presented when he substitutes for his mother tongue the English language as the common medium of speech. But the adoption of our language, manners, and customs in only a small part of the process. To become Americanized the change wrought must be fundamental. However great his outward conformity, the immigrant is not Americanized unless his interests and affections have become deeply rooted here. And we properly demand of the immigrants even more than this. He must be brought into complete harmony with our ideals and aspirations and cooperate with us for their attainment. Only when this has been done will he possess the national consciousness of an American.

“Remember,” Nigel Farage said in late July in his office near Parliament, “I am the moderate…reasonable…democratic…experienced…grown-up face of the fightback. If I lose, just you wait.”

For nearly 30 years, Farage (rhymes with “barrage”) has been the most influential British voice of what he calls the fightback, and his detractors call populism. At the turn of this century, as a member of the UK Independence Party (UKIP), he fought to “save the pound” at a time when London elites hoped to abandon England’s ancient currency for the European Union’s Euro. The pound survived, and in 2010 the Euro crashed. Almost alone among top politicians back then, Farage called for Britain to leave the E.U. outright. By 2016, a majority of his countrymen agreed. They broke their European ties in the so-called Brexit referendum, even if three years of parliamentary and judicial chicanery delayed Britain’s exit till 2020. (See “Why Hasn’t Brexit Happened?,” Summer 2019.) Winsome, bibulous, half-prophet and half-clown, he has a habit of being vindicated.

The American Mind’s ‘Editorial Roundtable’ podcast is a weekly conversation with Ryan Williams, Spencer Klavan, and Mike Sabo devoted to uncovering the ideas and principles that drive American political life. Stream here or download from your favorite podcast host.

Chips Ahoy | The Roundtable Ep. 282

Trump has reached a deal with semiconductor chip maker Intel to land the government a 10% stake in the firm. It’s a potential safeguard against China in an uncertain age but also a potentially troubling intervention into the market. There are also rumblings about sending the National Guard into Chicago, which would really be an error—but maybe it’s all just lib-baiting. Meanwhile in the UK, a teen girl was arrested after allegedly brandishing a knife and hatchet at an immigrant man by whom she felt threatened, aggravating tensions over the country’s influx of culturally disconnected and often violent immigrants. The guys sit down this week to discuss the happenings in Trump-world and beyond—plus more media recommendations!

Conservatives often imagine that winning statewide elections means gaining control over the machinery of government. But this is wrong—and dangerously so. For far too long, red states have confused the two. The assumption that political victory automatically confers political authority is one of the chief falsehoods circulating on the Right. It is the reason Republican states often look like Democratic ones, only with different bumper stickers.

This is an uncomfortable but necessary message for conservatives to hear: red states are facing a major crisis of governance.

The State Leadership Initiative’s new Index Report lays out the evidence in extensive detail. By the most basic measures of lean, accountable, and ideologically grounded government, red states are failing. Many of the policies their representatives are voting for and their governors are signing into law are profoundly out of step with the wishes of voters. Bureaucracies are bloated, universities multiply administrators faster than scholars, there are fewer teachers than administrators in schools, New York-style regulations pile up in red states like Texas, and seven of the ten most federally dependent states wear the Republican label.

The key takeaway is not just that red states are doing poorly—it is that red states are almost indistinguishable from blue states on the metrics that matter.

As I argued in the first part of this essay, the Catholic Church has much to contribute to the revitalization of right reason and the moral foundations of democracy in a Western world that has increasingly lost sight of its civilizational soul.

But as Paul Seaton has compellingly argued in a recent article at The Catholic World Report entitled “Western Civilization Under Attack,” the current leadership of the Church no longer speaks with any confidence about the need to defend Western civilization, that civilizational order with roots in Athens, Jerusalem, and Rome “in which the humanity of man has been most explored, extolled, and realized (if imperfectly, as such things must be).” As Seaton strikingly adds, if the West—including its deep-seated commitments to constitutional government, liberty under law, religious liberty, and the search for truth—“were to leave the stage of history, both as ideal and as reality, humanity would be immeasurably diminished.”

Many American Founders, including our first four presidents, hoped to establish a national university that would educate statesmen for the new republic. During his second term, George Washington was presented with what seemed to be a golden opportunity to accomplish this goal—and rejected it on cultural grounds.

In 1794, the Swiss exile François d’Ivernois had written to John Adams and Thomas Jefferson, whom he knew from their years of diplomatic service in France. His home city of Geneva was suffering “convulsions” due to “the great political drama which now agitates Europe,” namely the French Revolution, whose terror had recently reached its nadir but whose fervor was still disrupting neighboring countries. D’Ivernois, himself “too much a republican” for the Calvinist Republic of Geneva but “too little a republican” for Revolutionary France, proposed a scheme “to transport into one of your Provinces our Academy [the University of Geneva] completely organised, and with it its means of public instruction.” At a stroke, it seems, Washington could have whisked away one of Europe’s premier universities and established it in the American republic.

Washington balked. “That a national University in this country is a thing to be desired, has always been my decided opinion,” but he doubted the ability of “an entire Seminary of foreigners, who may not understand our language,” to “be assimilated.” As Washington explained to Adams:

In 1790, the first United States census was a straightforward affair. Marshals rode on horseback, counted people where they lived, and returned with ledgers that would determine representation in Congress. The idea was as simple as it was profound: political power should follow the actual number of people—not estimates, not probabilities, not manipulated figures—residing in each state. This “actual Enumeration,” written into Article I, Section 2 of the Constitution, was meant to be one of the republic’s great safeguards of equal representation.

Two hundred thirty years later, the Census Bureau turned that safeguard upside down and thwarted the will of voters. In 2020, it implemented “differential privacy,” an opaque algorithm that deliberately injects false numbers into small-area data. Supposedly designed to protect privacy and identities, it instead scrambled population counts in ways that Harvard researchers found made it “impossible to follow the principle of ‘One Person, One Vote.’”

At the same time, the incoming Biden Administration dismantled the Administrative Records Project, the Trump-era initiative that would have allowed the bureau to use existing federal data to determine citizenship and correct census errors. The result was a census that was riddled with miscounts, opaque to challenge, and constitutionally suspect.

The Firth of Forth sounds confusing to American ears. It is an inlet of the North Sea, called a “firth” and produced by the river “Forth.” On this body of water in Eastern Scotland sits Rosyth, the location of the manufacture and drydock service for the U.K.’s only two aircraft carriers.

The flagship aircraft carrier, HMS Queen Elizabeth, still “new” in naval terms, is visiting Rosyth—not to assert British naval prestige but to begin maintenance. Commissioned in 2017, the ship had already spent most of 2025 under repair after corrosion was found in its propeller shaft. Now, despite recent $4.3 billion refits, it’s once more out of action for further upgrades and inaccessible-system inspections, pushing its availability deeper into the future.

Three thousand miles to the west, a Canadian-born civilian sits on her living room couch, contemplating her approaching death. She isn’t terminally ill, but the state won’t provide the medical home care she needs. Canada has promised health care via socialized medicine, but it will instead administer a lethal injection within days. This is the regime of MAID, Canada’s euphemistically termed Medical Assistance In Dying legislation that legalized assisted suicide in 2016. This “choice” is presented as a compassionate right. However, in practice it underscores a disquieting fact: the machinery of death is more functional than that of living care.

The American Mind’s ‘Editorial Roundtable’ podcast is a weekly conversation with Ryan Williams, Spencer Klavan, and Mike Sabo devoted to uncovering the ideas and principles that drive American political life. Stream here or download from your favorite podcast host.

Pax Donaldiana | The Roundtable Ep. 281

This week, the legacy media allowed their hatred for Trump to overrule any desire they may once have had for peace in Ukraine. The president held meetings with Putin, Zelensky, and European leaders, apparently making serious headway toward a conclusion to the war. Meanwhile in Florida this week, illegal immigrant Harjinder Singh allegedly killed three people after losing control of his semi-truck in the course of an illegal U-turn. Despite failing English and road sign tests, Singh—who crossed from Mexico into California—was able to obtain a commercial driver’s license thanks to Gavin Newsom’s governance in CA. Matthew Peterson joins the guys to discuss the tragic outcomes of Leftist policy and the Democrats’ ongoing efforts to rehabilitate their image. Plus, are movies dead? And other media recs.

On August 11, President Trump officially declared an emergency in the District of Columbia. Violent crime had reached such levels that he was compelled to utilize authorities granted to him under Section 740 of the Home Rule Act, which requires the D.C. Metropolitan Police to be put at the president’s disposal for up to 30 days. This was followed by the president’s deployment of the D.C. National Guard and various federal law enforcement officers, including Homeland Security, the FBI, and the DEA, to walk the beat in an attempt to combat the disorder that plagues our nation’s capital.

The move has all the hallmarks of the Trump law and order agenda. Much like the man himself, it emphasizes creating a vibe of confidence and authority through public shows of force to more or less will the desired end into being.

As the kids say, “You can just do things.”

When I was growing up in North Carolina in the 1980s, a Chinese restaurant in town had its walls covered with photos of Marines and always gave a discount to any Marine who walked through its doors. The story behind the restaurant is remarkable.

It was founded by an immigrant who, as an impoverished child in China at the end of World War II, had been befriended by a company of Marines. They essentially “adopted” him and gave him his own bunk in a barracks and a Marine uniform, taught him English and basic drills, and sent him to a Christian religious school in China, which they paid for. When the Marines left when the Communists took over, “Charlie Two Shoes” as the Marines called him (“two shoes” being their best approximation of Tsui, his last name) was persecuted by the Communist government due to his friendship with the Americans. The government imprisoned him for years and then sentenced him to house arrest upon his release.

After a series of challenges, Charlie was miraculously able to get in touch with his old Marine buddies. As China was opening up in 1983, they arranged for him to immigrate to America, where he settled in North Carolina, started a Chinese restaurant, and eventually became a U.S. citizen. His various children generally thrived in America. Some ran the restaurant while others became doctors and pharmacists. In 2013, Charlie became the 18th honorary United States Marine. That same year, he accompanied some of his old Marine buddies on a trip back to China, his first visit since leaving 30 years prior.

The latest source of outrage within the Pentagon establishment is the rightful end of Army Lieutenant General Douglas Sims’s career, which has drawn loud protests from both active-duty and retired officers. Secretary Hegseth’s decision not to promote Sims to the rank of general has been portrayed as evidence of creeping politicization in the military. The argument advanced by critics, and repeated in opinion essays and New York Times leaks, is that because military officers swear an oath to the Constitution, they should be protected from any decision involving their status or rank that is political in nature.

Popularized by leaders such as former Chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff Mark Milley, this interpretation distorts the true meaning of the oath all commissioned officers take. While the oath binds officers to uphold the Constitution, it also carries a persistent obligation to obey lawful orders from civilian leadership. That principle, which is rooted in centuries of American civil-military tradition, is what ensures that the military remains under the control of elected officials rather than becoming a self-governing class.

Officers take the following oath when they are first commissioned, and at each successive promotion:

In the age of Trump, our nation lives under the banner of America First. In domestic policy, this means securing our border, deporting those who are in the country illegally, and reestablishing law and order in our cities, among other key goals. But what does America First mean for the world beyond America? To answer that question, we must look back centuries.

The onset of the American Revolution was not purely a local affair. The war eventually became a global conflagration, with battlefields stretching from the Caribbean to India. But the enduring contest was ideological, not geopolitical. Non-American lovers of liberty—Paine, Pulaski, Lafayette, Von Steuben, and Salomon for starters—from an array of nations arrived to fight for the American cause, and sometimes became Americans themselves. They understood that fighting for freedom here meant rekindling hope for their own countries.

Last month, Marco Rubio’s State Department executed a sweeping restructuring plan to implement an America First foreign policy. Although many offices were eliminated or combined, a few new ones were created. Among them is the Office of Natural Rights.

Its name has provoked predictable harrumphing from establishment commentators who feel “human rights” is the only acceptable term of art for diplomacy. While they are right that the terminology is significant, they are blind to the vital reality the State Department has recognized: without human nature there are no human rights. If our rights are not grounded in a shared nature, they are founded simply on the will of the government. If the government grants us more rights at one moment, it may arbitrarily retract them at the next.

The Trump Administration has observed this phenomenon with great alarm. JD Vance argued that this is Europe’s greatest threat in his now-famous Munich speech, and the State Department weighed in with an official article shortly thereafter. U.S. officials are rightly concerned about natural rights abroad, not because they are Republicans, but because they are Americans. The recognition of natural rights is the foundation of our own government.

Andrew Beck argues that America needs to revive the ideal of assimilation if our country is to survive as a country. It must not have its distinctive culture washed away by the influx of immigrants coming from many different cultures and religions. New Americans, he believes, should not only pledge allegiance to the nation’s official creed, as enshrined in its founding documents and laws, but also defer to its dominant culture and way of life, including the majority religion, Christianity.

There is much to agree with in this view, which Beck is at pains to distinguish from “Christian nationalism,” whatever that is. The message of assimilation, as it used to be practiced in the 20th century, was that we Americans were proud of what we had built in this country. We assumed that foreigners were coming to America to share our freedoms and prosperity, and we were eager for them to know why America was free and why it was prosperous. Prejudices they might have brought with them, in favor of monarchy or against private property, for example, should be left behind at Ellis Island. The main instrument of assimilation was public schools, which accepted their responsibility to teach what it was to be American.

Does a Hindu statue in Sugar Land, Texas, threaten America’s stability and cohesion? Andrew Beck thinks so. He wants the government to “curate or protect the dominant and preferred culture of its historic people.”

In a column I wrote to which Beck responds, I suggested America’s Christian culture is not imperiled by a lone statue in a community like Sugar Land, where Christianity and churches are quite strong. Recalling the U.S. Nazi Party based in the community where I lived during my 1970s boyhood, I extolled the U.S. Constitution for protecting free speech—even for the “absurd and the hateful,” which is “parcel to our freedom from despotism.” The Constitution, I argued, “expresses a providential trust that if truth and virtue are free to argue their case, they can in the open market of ideas survive and even prevail, at least to a certain extent, in our fallen world.”

Beck evidently has less providential trust in the power of truth and virtue, warning that “What you elevate in the public eye is what you encourage the people to idealize in their hearts.” He asks, do “we want immigrants to be looking backwards at what they left? Or looking forward to what they now are privileged to inherit?”

Beck surmises that my evident indifference about Hindu idols reveals my wider complacency about the “cost of pluralism.” He warns:

Christopher Wolfe’s thoughtful essay on Booker T. Washington, leisure, and work stirred some fond memories, from years ago, of making a friend by reading a book.

He was an old black man, and I was an old white man. We were both native Angelenos and had been just about old enough to drive when the Watts riots broke out in 1965. But that was half a century and a lifetime ago, and we hadn’t known one another. Los Angeles is a big place, home to many worlds. Now we were white-haired professors, reading a book together, and we became friends. His name was Kimasi, and he has since gone to a better world.  

We were spending a week with a dozen other academics reading Booker T. Washington’s autobiography, Up from Slavery. Washington was born a slave in Franklin County, Virginia, just a few years before the Civil War began. He gained his freedom through Lincoln’s Emancipation Proclamation and the Union victory in the war. With heroic determination, he got himself an education and went on to found the Tuskegee Normal and Industrial Institute in Alabama, where he remained principal for the rest of his life.

The Camp of the Saints by Jean Raspail is one of the most interesting and controversial novels of the 20th century. Which is why it’s good news that Vauban Books, a small publishing house, is coming out with a new edition, complete with a fresh translation by scholar Ethan Rundell. English-language copies of the book, first published in the U.S. in 1975, have been passed around like samizdat. The Camp of the Saints became popular again in the 2010s, but the rightsholders refused to reprint it until Vauban managed to secure the rights.

The Camp of the Saints depicts mass immigration destroying European civilization. In the novel a gigantic flotilla of boats filled with destitute Indians sets course for France to seek refugee status. After much handwringing, the government allows them to land rather than take the only other option available, which is to massacre them. France—and very quickly all of Europe—turns into a dystopian Third-World slum.

Raspail’s novel was written in the 1970s when the “boat people” fled Vietnam for Europe. The book caused an enormous sensation—it was a bestseller in France and the U.S., and eventually globally. Many have hailed it as a great and important work of prophecy. But, predictably, it was then and is now denounced as a horribly racist screed that only white supremacists would be interested in reading.

The American Mind’s ‘Editorial Roundtable’ podcast is a weekly conversation with Ryan Williams, Spencer Klavan, and Mike Sabo devoted to uncovering the ideas and principles that drive American political life. Stream here or download from your favorite podcast host.

The Crooks in DC | The Roundtable Ep. 280

As if to confirm the problem Andrew Beck identified in “Assimilation and Its Discontents,” U.S. Representative Delia Ramirez just days after publication of his piece declared (in Spanish) at a leftist gathering in Mexico City, “I’m a proud Guatemalan before I’m an American.” The Chicago-born Democratic congresswoman—more than the Hindu idol in Texas Beck decries—defines the problem we face in creating an unum out of the plures of people, states, and regions that make up our sprawling continental nation.

Representative Ramirez deserves all the obloquy heaped on her for being America Second (at best). But the core assimilation problem we face is not that some immigrants and their children are insufficiently committed to America—it’s that America is insufficiently committed to assimilation.

Immigrants are going to take their cues from Americans about what we expect of them regarding assimilation. As an old boss of mine used to say, you teach people how to treat you—and we’ve been teaching newcomers that it’s okay to, as Beck puts it, “come to America, live in America—but…not become an American.”

For some Gen Zers, it’s already time to retire. A new trend known as “micro-retirement” has spread like wildfire on social media. It involves young adults working for a few years, quitting their jobs to pursue life experiences, and then repeating the cycle. While it is tempting to dismiss this trend, micro-retirement’s appeal to Zoomers reveals much about their unique perspective on life.

One popular influencer, Adama Lorna, made the case for micro-retirement in a TikTok video: “Instead of waiting until you’re 60 or 70 to travel the world and indulge in hobbies, you do them while you have your youth, your energy, and health.” As she sees it, micro-retirement is a way for young people to have their cake and eat it too. By “retiring” every few years, they’re able to reap the freedom that comes with retiree life while enjoying their youth.

Lifestyle guru Timothy Ferriss coined the term “micro-retirement” in his book titled The 4-Hour Workweek. Although it was written in 2007, it didn’t catch on among Millennials. The fact that Zoomers popularized a term coined while they were learning their ABCs suggests that something about their generational experience primed them for it.

Andrew Beck has made a cogent case for why the U.S., like other countries, requires cultural and moral cohesion to protect its nationhood and act with a unified will on behalf of the common good. Beck correctly notes that the U.S. started out as a country with a well-defined collective identity. If we look back at America’s beginnings, we discover John Jay in Federalist 2 defining this original American identity in a memorable observation:

Providence has been pleased to give this one connected country to one united people—a people descended from the same ancestors, speaking the same language, professing the same religion, attached to the same principles of government, very similar in their manners and customs, and who, by their joint counsels, arms, and efforts, fighting side by side throughout a long and bloody war, have nobly established general liberty and independence.

At the time this was written, the newly formed American nation-state was composed overwhelmingly of Northern European Protestants; its legal institutions were largely British. Its shared culture was shaped by, among other things, reading and revering the King James Bible. Among the professional class, the Bible’s authority was supplemented by that of Blackstone’s Commentaries on the Laws of England, Shakespeare’s tragedies, and (to some extent) classical texts like Plutarch’s Lives.

A few years ago, I was invited to observe some student presentations on the topic of Leisure: The Basis of Culture. It is one of the perks of my job as a professor at a Catholic liberal arts university that I get invited to such events. I thoroughly enjoyed the presentations, but I could sense from the Q&A that one part of the audience remained unpersuaded: the students’ parents. Moms and dads who had worked hard to pay for their children to attend college were not enthusiastic about the main point their sons and daughters were making: work is not what life is all about.

Leisure is the goal of work, after all. Leisure activity (rather than do-nothing inactivity) awakens the greatest part of our souls, the part that is capable of wonder and contemplation. Beginning with Aristotle, excellent philosophical authorities over the years have made that very argument. Classicist Sarah Broadie once observed that Aristotle’s idea that “we are not-at-leisure in order to be at leisure” remains understudied—except by the mid-20th century Thomist philosopher Josef Pieper, the foremost recent thinker who has argued for leisure’s importance. In 1948, he wrote that “the power to be at leisure is the power to step beyond the working world and win contact with those superhuman, life-giving forces that can send us, renewed and alive again, into the busy world of work.”

Fixing American education begins with figuring out what to do about the United States Department of Education (ED). The Trump Administration wants to eliminate the ED at once. Kenin Spivak’s recent article for The American Mind argued that policymakers should simplify the ED and reduce its power, and then consider whether to eliminate the department entirely. Regardless of the option they ultimately choose, policymakers should at minimum return most of the ED’s powers to determine the content and structure of education back to the states and local school districts.

Why should the first priority of education reformers be to eliminate the Education Department, or at the very least remove most of its power over American education?

The National Association of Scholars’ report Waste Land: The Education Department’s Profligacy, Mediocrity, and Radicalism provides chapter and verse on how the ED misbehaves. The Education Department and the Office for Civil Rights (OCR) use four big tools to impose ideologically extreme policies on states and school districts. These tools are:

The American Mind’s ‘Editorial Roundtable’ podcast is a weekly conversation with Ryan Williams, Spencer Klavan, and Mike Sabo devoted to uncovering the ideas and principles that drive American political life. Stream here or download from your favorite podcast host.

Hardball and Big Balls | The Roundtable Ep. 279

Zohran Mamdani’s recent conversation with Sadiq Khan should instill fear in the hearts of the average New York City voter. In the weeks since he defeated Andrew Cuomo in the Democratic mayoral primary in June, Mamdani has reportedly “been in touch with a number of progressive mayors,” including London’s.

During a “warm and collegial” phone call, Khan reportedly advised the young socialist from Queens to shift to the center. After winning the primary by pledging rent freezes and free buses, he urged Mamdani to reassure moderates in the same way that Khan himself did in 2016, after routing his fellow left-wing opponents before defeating the Conservative candidate in the London mayoral race.

Although Khan is not a leftist in the same sense as Mamdani or Alexandria Ocasio-Cortez, his tenure in London shows his alleged “centrism” can be just as damaging.

Keeping people safe is a basic responsibility of an elected leader—a test Khan is failing. London has a terrible knife problem. Almost one-third of the 50,000 violent and sexual crimes with knives reported in England and Wales last year occurred in the capital.

In the 1980s Jesse Jackson helped banish “Western Civ” from Stanford with a silly chant. Many colleges and universities that had not already done so followed suit.

But in the classical counterrevolution of the 21st century, Western civilization is back. The Great Books, long thought a relic of Mortimer Adler’s Cold War-era salesmanship, now guide the curriculum at many of the over 1,000 classical schools that have been founded over the past few decades, dozens of which are publicly funded charter schools. A new Great Books college sprouts up every year or so. Dead languages like Latin seem to be very much alive again.

Whether it is humanism, the medieval liberal arts, or even just memes about the Roman Empire, it turns out that Western Civ did indeed have to go—big.

The 21st-century classical counterrevolutionaries should not get high on their own supply, though. If their project ends up being a retread of the Mortimer Adler-Robert Hutchins show, they may be greeted by an even deeper abyss of failure than the ostracism Western Civ faced in the name of diversity that occurred with the rise of racial and gender studies.

At least on paper, DEI in the federal government is dead. On the very first day of his second presidency, Donald Trump issued a presidential action, “Ending Radical And Wasteful Government DEI Programs And Preferencing,” ending all diversity, equity, inclusion, and accessibility “mandates, policies, programs, preferences, and activities in the Federal Government, under whatever name they appear.” Employees in DEI-specific positions were fired; DEI positions and offices were dismantled; and DEI training programs, newsletters, and promotion criteria were scrapped.

But it would be beyond naive to think that just because federal agencies are not currently promoting DEI that their workforces do not still widely hold the opinions they were encouraged to hold. Thousands of current federal employees participated in or supported DEI programs. Even those who might disagree were coerced to back DEI if they wanted to keep their jobs.

President Donald Trump unveiled his AI Action Plan last week, an ambitious and strategically framed document that signals artificial intelligence is no longer a niche issue for technocrats. It has become the defining arena of great-power competition.

As AI has become more deeply embedded in governance, a critical question has emerged: Will this revolutionary technology tip the scales in favor of authoritarian regimes or empower democracies? History offers no easy answers. Past innovations have demonstrated both emancipatory and repressive potential. Theoretically, AI could enhance transparency, participation, and accountability.

Theory, however, is conjecture. There are underlying authoritarian advantages at a cognitive and structural level that cannot be wished away.

AI competition is not merely a race for innovation—it is a contest of governance models.

Autocracies—particularly China—are poised to benefit disproportionately from AI’s capabilities: pervasive surveillance, granular social control, and predictive state planning. It is time the United States openly acknowledges this truth.

Given the heated back-and-forth over the Trump Administration’s strikes on Iran’s nuclear facilities and continued support for Ukraine, it is clear that matters of foreign policy will be a major factor in defining the character of American conservatism moving forward.

There is bound to be disagreement over the relative geopolitical merits of supporting Ukraine or Israel, as well as the appropriate level of support. However, one principle is undeniable: an advocate of a given course of action must demonstrate its connection to the interests of the people of the United States alone. That doesn’t mean it can’t be mutually beneficial for an international partner. But the very purpose of statesmanship is to navigate events and relationships in a manner that maximizes the advantage accruing to one’s own nation. Absent a clear definition of the specific interests served by an existing alliance, there will always be a danger of the tail wagging the dog.

The first order of business is therefore to establish such a definition. What do we gain by a given course of action in service of a foreign nation? This is as much a question of theory as of practice: What are we fighting for, and what are the best means to obtain it? As so often tends to be the case, the best place to look for an illustration of the principles that can help guide our thinking is the American Founding—although perhaps not in the way it is normally considered.

The American Mind’s ‘Editorial Roundtable’ podcast is a weekly conversation with Ryan Williams, Spencer Klavan, and Mike Sabo devoted to uncovering the ideas and principles that drive American political life. Stream here or download from your favorite podcast host.

Jeanetic Lottery | The Roundtable Ep. 278

In Sugar Land, Texas, a giant statue depicting the monkey-faced Hindu deity, Hanuman, was erected in August 2024. Officially titled Statue of Union, many Texans and Americans elsewhere have found this monument to be an aberration. For some it is the aesthetic unsightliness. For others it is a religious aversion to having a pagan idol be raised to such heights. And for others it is a demonstration of just how many foreigners now live in Texas.

I see each of these points as pins on a board that, when connected, reveal a fault line in American civic life: we are divided culturally—and the divide is widening.

In typical fashion, the Ninth Circuit Court of Appeals completely misread the 14th Amendment’s Citizenship Clause and the congressional speech of its principal framers in a July 27 decision, State of Washington, et al. v. Donald Trump, et al. This ideologically motivated opinion was written by a three-judge panel, composed of two Clinton appointees and a Trump appointee who registered a “partial concurrence and a partial dissent.” Overall, however, it was an embarrassment to the canons of legal reasoning and historical truth. It surely will be overruled by the Supreme Court—hopefully on an expedited basis.

On January 20, 2025, President Trump acted expeditiously to fulfill a campaign promise by issuing an executive order redefining who is “subject to the jurisdiction of the United States.” I believe Trump is to be applauded for bringing the question of birthright citizenship to the attention of the public and provoking debate on this crucial issue. I have questions, however, as to whether an executive order in isolation is a constitutional means of pursuing the cause.

Congress clearly has power under Section 5 of the 14th Amendment “to enforce, by appropriate legislation, the provisions of this article.” One provision is that “no State shall make or enforce any law which abridges the privileges or immunities of citizens of the United States.” This has been controversial, because the language of the amendment is couched in negative terms.

It is fitting that what was arguably Hulk Hogan’s most memorable late-career public appearance at the 2024 Republican National Convention happened almost exactly a year before his death. In his speech, Terry Bollea (Hulk’s real name) expressed his reluctance to speak on politics. But he said that the humiliations and degradations that had been inflicted upon the American people compelled him to speak out.

Mentioning America’s former greatness, Hogan lamented that “we lost it all in the blink of an eye” when Joe Biden took over. But pointing at Donald Trump, the once-and-future president, Hogan announced, “With our leader up there, my hero, that gladiator, we’re going to bring America back together, one real American at a time, brother!”

Hulk Hogan’s meteoric rise coincided with Trump’s in the 1980s. That era is almost certainly the one that Trump’s political motto—Make America Great Again—implicitly references as our bygone halcyon days. It was a period of unbridled optimism. Ronald Reagan announced it was “morning again in America.” The economy was thriving, and Donald Trump was living proof that the possibilities in America were limitless. We were on the verge of winning the Cold War. Movies like Rocky, Top Gun, Red Dawn, and so many more were unabashedly nationalist and patriotic; children watched cartoons like G.I. Joe.

Over the next decade, artificial intelligence will revolutionize K-12 education. The advent of large language models means every student with internet access may soon have an AI tutor providing one-on-one instruction, homework help, and counseling. Every teacher will have an AI teaching assistant to plan lessons, generate assignments, and grade papers. Administrators will use AI to complete paperwork, track student outcomes, and deliver staff training. In short, AI may soon be integrated into every aspect of schooling.

Conservative politicians have complained so bitterly about a lack of viewpoint diversity in American universities that many have wondered whether they’re overreacting to a non-problem. They’re not. During a recent work trip to Dublin, I was reminded of what a homogeneous—and dangerous—progressive echo chamber the modern academy has become. At the tail end of a rather full day, I was taking in some traditional music at the Cobblestone Pub.

I grabbed the only free seat at the bar and was shocked to find that the woman sitting next to me was pursuing a Ph.D. in literature at the University of Texas at Austin, the very same program from which I graduated almost a decade ago.

What ensued was one of the most disturbing conversations I have ever had. I refuse to identify this woman, because the life of a graduate student is hard enough without having to deal with personal condemnation for what in truth is just one instance of a vast, systemic problem. Let’s just call her Jane.  

The American Mind’s ‘Editorial Roundtable’ podcast is a weekly conversation with Ryan Williams, Spencer Klavan, and Mike Sabo devoted to uncovering the ideas and principles that drive American political life. Stream here or download from your favorite podcast host.

Too Little, Too Late Show | The Roundtable Ep. 277

Americans are different from the rest of the world. Everyone knows it, but not everyone knows why. Some say it’s our Constitution, or our political traditions, or our vast landmass. But that’s not the whole story.

Above all else, what sets America apart from the rest of the world is our people—a people possessed by the same proud, defiant spirit as a 13-year-old Andrew Jackson. After being captured after the skirmish at Hanging Rock, the young Jackson refused to shine the shoes of his British captors, preferring to accept a scar across his face from an officer’s saber rather than kneeling before the foreign occupiers.

America is a nation of pioneers, explorers, and inventors. Unlike our European counterparts, we were not born gradually, over the course of millennia—we are a people who willed ourselves into existence, coming to know ourselves through a centuries-long struggle to forge a civilization in the wilderness.

We are a settler nation—dynamic, restless, reaching into infinite space. Since the first pilgrim ships arrived on our shores, we Americans have been possessed by an insatiable urge to create, to build, and to discover—to step forward into the dark unknown. Our people have flown across oceans, tunneled through mountains, defeated empires, raised up skyscrapers, and transcended our frontiersmen ancestors by expanding outwards into outer space itself. We did this all while maintaining the capacity to rule ourselves.

When CBS announced it would cancel The Late Show with Stephen Colbert, Donald Trump “truthed” as follows: “I absolutely love that Colbert got fired. His talent was even less than his ratings.” Summoning a gilt cartoon frame called the “eloquence cam,” Colbert replied: “Go f**k yourself.”

His fellow talk show host, Jon Stewart, addressed CBS directly with the help of a backup gospel choir: “Go f**k yourself! (Go f**k yourself!) Go f**k yourself!” and so on.

One begins to detect a theme. Powerful as it is to watch two men in their 60s repeatedly shriek a single obscenity at an ever-thinning crowd, maybe Trump had a point? 

The radical Left’s indifference to human life in the wake of the Texas floods is shocking. It exposes not just a troubling lack of civil discourse among the next generation of its leaders—but progressives’ long-romanticized destruction of their political foes.

Unhinged reactions to the victims of the Guadalupe River tragedy—with some even expressing satisfaction that potential MAGA supporters died—do not simply reveal the twisted views of a few leftist outliers: they expose the core principle that animates the entire movement. The radical Left increasingly sees political violence as a legitimate option in light of the Democrats’ inability to stop President Trump’s agenda.

It has been a little over 10 years since Donald Trump, with characteristic flair, descended the escalators at Trump Tower to announce his candidacy for the presidency of the United States.

Today, we can say in the words of Henry Olsen, the always astute political analyst, that “Trumpism is here to stay,” and that “there will be no conservative return to a pre-Trump consensus.” Advocates of such a return claim to represent republican rectitude and fidelity to constitutional norms now under threat from a supposedly reckless and demagogic populism.

In truth, however, whatever the virtues of the old consensus, its adherents were far from perfect or imitable in important respects. They were slow to resist “the culture of repudiation” (in Roger Scruton’s arresting phrase) that had colonized the educational and entertainment worlds, as well as the commanding heights of civil society, including large swaths of the business sector. In recent decades, these quarters hectored Americans and instructed them to hate themselves. Much of our elite class obsessed about race and gender in ways that undermined self-respect and propagandized groups based on accidents of birth to give themselves over to anger and despair.

The importance of civic education is something every American seems to agree on. All U.S. states mandate some form of it in public schools, with 40 states requiring students to pass a civics course to graduate high school. And despite the wave of universities jettisoning their general education classes, many still require some form of American heritage or civics class.

However, underneath the surface, these classes are often taught in a way that undermines citizenship. In what follows we discuss these pitfalls and make a few proposals for rehabilitating civic education. In sum, we suggest that:

1. A new paradigm is needed for understanding America’s heritage.
2. Forming students’ love for the United States should be the primary goal of American heritage and civics classes.
3. We can best help future citizens love their nation by focusing their attention on the most formative, heroic, and beautiful parts of its tradition.

The Use and Abuse of Civics

If you check in on your local college’s American heritage class, you will likely find it’s doing the opposite of what it was intended to do.

The FBI has launched a criminal investigation into former CIA Director John Brennan and former FBI Director James Comey for perjury and potentially other crimes related to the Trump-Russia hoax. This comes shortly after a CIA tradecraft review revealed their manipulation of a December 30, 2016, Intelligence Community Assessment (ICA) that Russian President Vladimir Putin favored Donald Trump in the 2016 election. And on Friday, Director of National Intelligence (DNI) Tulsi Gabbard reported that former President Barack Obama, former DNI James Clapper, Brennan, and others participated in the deception.

“The information we are releasing today clearly shows there was a treasonous conspiracy in 2016 committed by officials at the highest level of our government. Their goal was to subvert the will of the American people and enact what was essentially a years-long coup with the objective of trying to usurp the President from fulfilling the mandate bestowed upon him by the American people…. As such, I am providing all documents to the Department of Justice to deliver the accountability that President Trump, his family, and the American people deserve,” Gabbard said on Friday.

In the words of Obama’s pastor Jeremiah Wright, the chickens may be coming home to roost.

Every year, well-meaning donors pour hundreds of millions of dollars into America’s most prestigious universities. They do so out of sentiment, prestige, or the vague hope that their alma mater will preserve the civilization it once championed. But in 2025, this is delusion. The modern university—especially the Ivy League—is a machine built to erase the memory of the old world, not preserve it. Donors aren’t saving the institutions they love: they’re financing their own irrelevance.

To understand what was lost, one need only look back to the Ivy League of the 1940s, an era in which fraternal culture was not simply an appendage of undergraduate life, but a central organ of elite formation in America.

In those years, the great colleges—Harvard, Yale, Princeton, Columbia—still retained the trappings of their founding: small, WASP-dominated, semi-clerical institutions filled with the Yankee elite. But the real crucibles of influence were not the classrooms. They were the clubs, the societies, and the houses.

The great final clubs of Harvard, the eating clubs of Princeton, the secret societies of Yale—these were more than social diversions. They were incubators of elite consensus. Membership in such circles conferred a kind of spiritual citizenship in the American governing class. Men were trained to speak in a certain tone, carry themselves in a certain way, and, above all, recognize one another across institutions and borders. It was a culture that, for better or worse, assumed the right to rule.

Though he has the pedigree, Elbridge Colby is not a man for the cocktail circuit. As the principal author of the 2018 National Defense Strategy and the widely read book The Strategy of Denial, he could easily have settled into elite foreign policy circles. But he does not flatter diplomats, nor does he shield allies from hard truths, which in Washington inevitably provokes friction. In a recent Politico “exposé,” a chorus of disgruntled former officials bemoans the under secretary of defense for policy’s alleged impoliteness and strategic indelicacy. His crime? Speaking too bluntly. Acting too decisively.

But behind the theatrics of bureaucratic grievance is the truth that Colby is precisely the kind of strategist our moment demands. His critics may fixate on style, but the real discomfort he inspires stems from substance. Many of the former officials I’ve encountered aren’t scandalized because Colby is failing—they’re unsettled because he is, unlike many before him, trying to execute the platform Americans voted for.

Colby is being pilloried by the Washington establishment for being effective. He has advanced the logic of strategic prioritization with a seriousness that rankles them and unsettles allies long accustomed to American indulgence. The problem, it turns out, is that he is right, and unapologetic about it.

“Artificial general intelligence” (AGI) is typically defined as any computer system that can match or surpass human intelligence in performing any task a human can perform. No such program yet exists, but if one were to arise it could instantly begin improving its own capabilities. The result might be a kind of superintelligence, as far beyond our own intelligence as ours is beyond that of snails There exists no natural limit to this process. The only guardrails would be those we construct now, before the avalanche begins.

The timeline remains uncertain, yet the “San Francisco consensus” among AI researchers predicts superintelligence by decade’s end. Skeptics raise legitimate concerns about decades of failed predictions. But when Nobel laureates warn of extinction and industry leaders purchase remote bunkers or speak of “summoning the demon,” prudence demands attention. These are not Luddites but AI’s very architects sounding the alarm.

Of all the course corrections Donald Trump has pursued since his now-famous escalator ride, the one with the most lasting implications—perhaps barring immigration enforcement—may be his war against the unelected bureaucracy that has anti-democratically governed America for decades.

What the Trump Administration has undertaken in the past few months, and what is only beginning to bear fruit with cases like Trump v. American Federation of Government Employees, is nothing less than the opening salvos in a war to dismantle the blatantly unconstitutional technocracy that has defined American governance for at least the last half century. Contra the usual “end of democracy” hysterics from critics, if Trump is successful in these efforts he will be the greatest restorer of constitutional norms in the United States in more than 100 years.

The vision of the American system from Schoolhouse Rock!—a legislature that makes the laws, a president who enforces them, and a judiciary that faithfully interprets the law—hasn’t described how our government actually functions for quite some time. Indeed, it’s not an exaggeration to say that Congress has behaved largely as a vestigial organ, transferring the legislative powers the American people originally delegated to Congress to a multitude of agencies.

The American Mind’s ‘Editorial Roundtable’ podcast is a weekly conversation with Ryan Williams, Spencer Klavan, and Mike Sabo devoted to uncovering the ideas and principles that drive American political life. Stream here or download from your favorite podcast host.

Art of the Arms Deal | The Roundtable Ep. 276

As Joe Biden shuffled toward the finish line of his presidency, he and his staff let off a final volley of pardons—but who was really holding the (virtual) pen? This week, the guys sit down to weigh in on the renewed discussion of autopens as the New York Times reports on a cache of emails that may reveal the truth. Trump, meanwhile, caused a stir by agreeing to sell military supplies to NATO, which will then be passed to Ukraine. In the U.K. and Europe, technocrats crack down as triple crises fester: unchecked immigration, rampant crime, and youth radicalization. Plus: book and movie recommendations!

The American Enterprise Institute is an unlikely place to be reminded of why Donald Trump was necessary ten years ago, and is no less needed now. But a comment by Yuval Levin on a recent AEI panel succinctly brought out the difference Trump has made. Criticizing today’s populist, Trump-led Republican Party, Levin said, “The Right has to ground its approach to the public in a more conservative message, in a sense that this country is awesome. It is not a festering burning garbage pile—that is a strange way to talk to the next generation, and it’s not true, even a little bit.”

Trump has never used the words “festering burning garbage pile,” but he’s used similarly strong language to describe America’s condition in this century under administrations other than his own. Trump’s slogan “Make America Great Again” implies that America hasn’t been great lately, although he and his voters can change that. Whenever Trump alludes to what Levin calls “a festering burning garbage pile,” he’s referring to the poor leadership our country has suffered from in the not-too-distant past and the results of its misgovernance.

California generally—and Claremont in particular—has produced some of the most profound and revolutionary conservative thinkers of the last half-century.

And for a great many of them, it’s because they understood what’s at stake if we abandon our American identity.

And we’re lucky enough to have a few of them, like Michael Anton, now working in the administration with us.

Now, Claremont Institute President Ryan Williams asked me to speak a little bit about statesmanship and, more to the point, about how to respond to some of the challenges our movement will need to confront in the years to come.

It’s an interesting question.

And I think it’s useful to reflect on the state of the Left in 2025’s America.

Last week, a 33-year-old Communist running an insurgent campaign beat a multimillion-dollar establishment machine in the New York City Democratic mayoral primary.

I don’t want to harp on a municipal election, but there were two interesting threads. The first is that it drives home how much the voters in each party have changed.

If our victory in 2024 was rooted in a broad, working- and middle-class coalition, Mamdani’s coalition is the inverse.