Search Results

To recognize Somaliland is to destabilize Africa and undercut America’s values. This article is part of The Forum ’s Debate Series, in which student writers take opposing sides on issues of importance to public life. Read the other side of the debate here . Somali Prime Minister Abdirashid Ali Shermarke with President John F. Kennedy at the White House in 1962. Credit: U.S. National Archives Somali Prime Minister Abdirashid Ali Shermarke with President John F. Kennedy at the White House in 1962. (Credit: U.S. National Archives ) The enclave calling itself Somaliland marked the thirty-fourth anniversary of its unilateral secession this May with parades, speeches, and pageantry. Its leaders point to a local currency, passports, and episodic elections as proof of independence. They brand Somaliland as the "only democracy  in the Horn of Africa," contrasting themselves with a Somalia still rebuilding from decades of conflict. Yet not a single United Nations member state has endorsed their claim. Only Taiwan—excluded from the UN itself—has extended recognition . The absence of recognition reflects a shared judgment: Somaliland's case does not meet the standards of statehood. For Washington to recognize it now would not affirm American values, but betray them. The territory that makes up Somaliland was a British protectorate until 1960, when it achieved independence. That independence lasted only five days. In July of that year, leaders from both the north and south voluntarily united  to form the Somali Republic. The union was celebrated as a rare example of African unity in an era otherwise defined by fragmentation. In 1964, the Organization of African Unity adopted  Resolution 16(1) , committing its members to respect the borders they inherited at independence. Somalia, as a recognized state, fell under its protection. Somaliland, having ceased to exist as a separate entity after the union, did not. For six decades since, international law has treated Somalia's territorial integrity as the baseline—a position consistently reaffirmed  by the African Union. Supporters of Somaliland often point to 1991, when the Somali National Movement declared independence in Hargeisa. The claim is that Somalia's collapse justified separation. But the declaration was unilateral. It was not ratified by a national plebiscite or endorsed by any international body. Later referendums organized in Somaliland suffered the same problem. In 2001, unionist regions refused  to participate at all, dismissing the vote as illegitimate. Even the 1961 constitutional referendum, often cited by secessionists, is misrepresented. While some northern districts opposed the draft constitution, the majority of Somali clans across the country, including in the north, approved  it. In Somalia's clan-based political order, no single region can claim to speak for all. These votes were never inclusive enough to carry the weight of sovereignty. The image of Somaliland as "the Horn's only democracy" is also less persuasive on closer inspection. Its multiparty system is capped  by law at three parties, each dominated  by a single clan. International human rights organizations have documented repeated violations : arbitrary detentions, crackdowns on journalists, and repression of political dissent. Historical episodes show a pattern of coercion. In Borama  in 1991 and Kalshaale  in 2012, civilians resisting secession were massacred . In Las Anod in 2023, authorities expelled  thousands of residents southward, separating families in the process. Elections have been held, but under these conditions they reflect control more than consent. To frame Somaliland as a model of pluralism is to overlook the exclusionary politics that sustain it. Recognition would also cut against America's broader commitments. U.S. foreign policy rests on three principles: sovereignty, democracy, and stability. Recognition of Somaliland undermines all three. Sovereignty, because it would redraw Somalia's borders without its consent, contradicting decades of U.S. support  for African unity. Democracy, because it would endorse one clan's dominance as representative of all Somalis. Stability, because it would invite other separatist movements across Africa—from Tigray in Ethiopia to the Anglophone regions of Cameroon—to demand the same treatment. The U.S. cannot credibly defend Ukraine's sovereignty against Russia or Taiwan's democracy against Beijing while disregarding Somalia's unity. Some in Washington have entertained recognition for strategic reasons. In 2023, Representative Scott Perry introduced legislation , and by 2025 reports suggested that the Trump administration might view recognition as a way to secure influence  in the Gulf of Aden. Senior U.S. military officials  even visited  Hargeisa, underscoring the interest. But treating Somali borders as bargaining chips for access or positioning undermines the very principles the U.S. claims to uphold. For decades, Washington has supported the African Union's insistence that postcolonial borders remain fixed  to prevent endless disputes. To discard that standard now for short-term advantage would not strengthen American strategy, but weaken its credibility across Africa and beyond. Nor is there African support for recognition. The African Union and regional bodies have repeatedly affirmed  Somalia's territorial integrity. No African state has recognized Somaliland. The push comes instead from Western think tanks, scattered legislators, and European populists. Acting alone would isolate Washington from Africa and hand China and Russia an easy line: that U.S. support for sovereignty is selective. Recognition of Somaliland would not mark a victory for democracy, but a return to colonial arrogance—a signal that the sovereignty of African nations can still be bartered away when it suits a superpower. It would silence the unionist communities who continue to reject  secession. It would reward an enclave whose history includes repression ,   displacement , and   exclusion . And it would signal that American values—sovereignty, democracy, stability—are negotiable. U.S. policy can either uphold those principles consistently or abandon them in Hargeisa. It cannot do both.

The Horn of Africa’s best democracy is key to a more peaceful continental order. This article is part of The Forum ’s Debate Series, in which student writers take opposing sides on issues of importance to public life. Read the other side of the debate here . A woman celebrates her nation’s independence in 2025. Credit: Somaliland.com The Republic of Somaliland celebrated  its 34th annual independence day on May 18 with parades, song, and oratory. Somaliland issues its own currency and passports. It is the only democracy in the Horn of Africa and has achieved relative prosperity despite seceding from Somalia, a nation now globally synonymous with state failure. Yet, only the Republic of China (Taiwan) has afforded any recognition  to the festivities—and Somalilander independence writ large.  The present-day Republic of Somaliland comprises the sector of coastal Northern Somali territory formerly under British rule. It gained independence in 1960, separately from the former Italian colonies of Somali. However, it sought immediate reunion as part of the independence requirements for the British and Italian colonies. The Southern, formerly Italian-aligned leadership came to rule the union and Somaliland began its first attempt to seize independence in an unsuccessful 1961 revolt. After a period of political turmoil typical of post-colonial states, Somalia came under the communist rule of General Siad Barre. This arrangement was opposed by the Somali National Movement and finally ended in 1991 as the disintegration of the communist regime left the nation in chaos. The clans comprising Somaliland declared independence. This was initially seen as a temporary measure, but the escalating nature of the wider Somali conflict in their southern region led voters to overwhelmingly approve  a constitution, finalizing the nation’s independence in 2001. No member of the United Nations has recognized the Republic of Somaliland, and the non-UN member Taiwan only extended its recognition  in 2020. Despite this, practically every expert on the region has recognized its success. The new constitution successfully produced a relatively strong democracy that has seen several peaceful transfers of power. Development specialist Seth Kaplan argues  that Somaliland succeeded by rooting democratic practice in “traditional Somali concepts of governance by consultation and consent” that built a vibrant civil society. Early gatherings to form the state included “elders, religious leaders, politicians, civil servants, intellectuals, and businesspeople” and incorporated the already existing frameworks of civil society governance into formal institutions. To maintain this cohesion, political parties are required to draw support across regions, preventing purely clan or ethnicity centered movements from gaining power. However, Kaplan also recognizes that Somaliland, while exceptional in handling the challenges of post-colonial statehood, still suffers from issues of “nepotism and clannism.” “Corruption is rife,” particularly in its barely meritocratic civil service. The recent 2024 presidential election  saw significant outbreaks of violence. Nonetheless, opposition candidate Abdirahman Mohamed Abdullahi was victorious and the republic saw another peaceful and orderly transfer of power once the votes were cast.  The situation is not perfect, but the international human rights non-profit Freedom House rates  Somaliland as being roughly as free as Bosnia or Thailand in terms of civil and political liberties. Somalia, in contrast, is comparable to Afghanistan, Syria, or Myanmar. By failing to recognize Somaliland, the United States has failed to recognize an objective reality on the ground. The republic has proved itself able to self-govern over decades and does so leaps and bounds better than any regional actor. Recognizing the reality on the ground offers an opportunity to further both American values and American interests. The United States has no basis upon which to deny diplomatic recognition to a relative beacon of liberty and democratic practices in a region where both are lacking—despite America’s attempts at democracy promotion. Indeed, it is ludicrous to devote resources and rhetoric to promoting democratization in Africa while denying support to a democracy that built itself without an American crutch. The burgeoning alliance  between Taiwan and Somaliland demonstrates Somaliland’s orientation against the interests of Chinese economic expansion, which has come to dominate the developing economies of Africa. American diplomats publicly encourage  Guatemala, Paraguay, and other allies to stand by Taiwan in the face of diplomatic depredations from China. Meanwhile, we have failed to support one of these select few nations affording Taiwan with full diplomatic ties. As recently as June 24, Taiwan and Somaliland agreed  to joint development of their mutual coast guard forces, a vital move as fears of a Chinese land invasion of Taiwan continue. The United States cannot participate fully in guaranteeing the safety of Taiwan without the ability to work with Taiwan’s newest crucial defense partner.  The move might not be as far away as it once seemed. The recognition of Somaliland by the United States was a centerpiece of the agenda for African foreign policy proposed  by the Heritage Foundation’s Project 2025 , though the niche proposal gained far less media attention than the hundreds of significantly more controversial suggestions. Nigel Farage, the leader of Britain’s right-wing populist Reform UK party recently dominating polls, has also voiced his support  for recognizing Somaliland’s independence. Pennsylvania Representative Scott Perry introduced House legislation  recognizing Somaliland in 2023. The movement has regained some steam as of May 2025 when The   Guardian reported  that the Trump Administration might use recognition of Somaliland as a means of securing a strategic position in the Gulf of Aden, near where the Yemeni Houthi organization has targeted  American ships. This would protect American interests in the regional oil economy. Lending credence to the report, senior leadership of the United States Army recently visited  Somaliland’s capital of Hargeisa.  United States policy is on the right track, but it has not gone far enough. Only the complete and total recognition of the independence of Somaliland can open the door to full diplomatic cooperation in a key region for American interests. Most importantly, only this level of recognition aligns with the American ethos of global democratization.

Nadine Strossen is American legal scholar and the author of The War on Words: 10 Arguments Against Free Speech—And Why They Fail . Strossen sits down with Sara Arjomand '26 to discuss free speech and its status on today's American college campuses. This interview transcript and recording have been edited for length and clarity. Sara Arjomand:  Nadine Strossen is a professor of law emerita at New York Law School, and was the national president of the American Civil Liberties Union from 1991 to 2008. She's now a senior fellow at FIRE, the Foundation for Individual Rights and Expression. She's also the author of The War on Words: 10 Arguments Against Free Speech — And Why They Fail , which was published this year. She has more than 40 years of experience in First Amendment law, and we’re lucky to have her here to speak with us today. Nadine Strossen, welcome to the podcast. Nadine Strossen:  Oh, Sara. I'm so honored to be your podcast guest and to be a return visitor to your very impressive and supremely beautiful campus. Sara Arjomand: Thank you. So I suppose we can start at the very beginning. What is your elevator pitch for freedom of speech? Nadine Strossen: Without freedom of speech, nothing that is positive in life could be achieved—starting with the ability to explore your own identity, your own values, your own concept of your purpose in life.  And moving beyond that, your ability to communicate with other human beings—to form relationships from the most intimate to interpersonal ones that are essential for being part of any community. And moving beyond that: instrumental values, including the pursuit of truth. Here on campus, that’s an especially important aspect—truth in every possible field, from spiritual, philosophical, and religious to scientific and social scientific. And then, last but far from least, as we live in a representative democracy, “We, the people”—to quote the opening words of the Constitution—could not effectively or responsibly exercise our sovereign power without the most robust freedom to debate and discuss policies and officials and candidates. Is that enough? Sara Arjomand: I mean, it’s certainly a compelling pitch. And I just, I suppose I wonder if not all of our readers will be on board at this point. I think that for many of them, the lingering worry has to do with hate speech. I think that’s especially relevant here on a college campus. Nadine Strossen: Well, if I could interject though, Sara.  Sara Arjomand: Of course. Nadine Strossen:  Freedom of speech is not absolute. I’m talking about the value of speech, but precisely because of its power, the Supreme Court—which has generally been very speech-protective—has never held that speech is absolutely protected. Let’s start with the language of the First Amendment, which is the Free Speech Clause: Congress shall make no law abridging the freedom of speech. Now that may sound rather straightforward, but when you hone in on it, you will not be surprised that every   single   word  in that phrase has been subject to debate. What is speech? Not everything that conveys a message is deemed to come within the protective ambit of speech. What is freedom? Freedom is not absolute. What is an abridgement? Maybe a restriction that is necessary to protect safety or health is not an abridgment that violates the First Amendment. So now you can ask follow-up questions. I didn’t mean to interject, but to say that one protects freedom of speech does not mean that therefore one says, “All speech is protected, and no limits are ever tolerable.” I do not know a single free speech champion who has ever taken that position.  Sara Arjomand : Maybe it would be helpful, then, to think about how “hate speech” has been traditionally understood. Nadine Strossen: There is no legal definition of hate speech precisely because the U.S. Supreme Court has never recognized a category of speech defined by its hateful message or content, and said, “Therefore, because of that message, it is excluded from First Amendment protection.” To the contrary, the Supreme Court has very strongly protected—as what it calls the bedrock principle of free speech—a concept called viewpoint neutrality: that government must remain neutral with respect to the viewpoint, the idea, the message, the content of the speech. No matter how unpopular or hated or hateful or otherwise controversial the view is, that alone is never enough to justify censoring it. So that fact that someone deems a message to be hateful is not ever going to justify government restrictions on that message. But the complementary principle is often called the emergency principle. And what that means is when you get beyond the viewpoint or the message of the speech and you consider it in its overall context—its facts and circumstances—if, in a particular factual context, speech (regardless of the message—it can be a hateful message, it can be any message), if in the facts and circumstances, it directly causes certain specific harm, or imminently threatens certain specific harm, then it can and should be punished. Let me give you an example. If speech is—well, this is a very simple example—if speech is through messages that intrude into your private life… Let’s say a phone call—the old-fashioned landlines that you couldn’t turn off, that would ring in the middle of the night—and somebody was persistently calling someone else, disturbing their sleep. It wouldn’t matter even if they were saying, “I love you, I love you, I love you.” That’s the opposite of hate speech, right? And yet it is still unprotected harassment  because it’s causing the harm of intruding into privacy and rest. There are many factual contexts in which much hateful speech can and should be punished—but not solely because of its message. So there are many instances of targeted harassment of the type that I talked about that are conveying hateful messages. There are many instances of threatening or intimidating speech, where the speaker intends to instill a reasonable fear in the targeted person that they’re going to be subject to violence. Many of those contain hateful messages. And I think that’s exactly right: that the speech that is the most dangerous, because it poses an emergency, can be punished regardless of what its particular viewpoint is. But the most dangerous censorship is also outlawed—and the most dangerous censorship is when government selectively chooses which messages it disfavors. Sara, I want to give you one other example, because I know that everybody has in mind particular odious messages that each of us thinks are hateful, and therefore would be very happy to have government restrict. So I want to remind everybody that what is going to be punished is not what you  consider to be hateful, but what the government  considers to be hateful. So let’s take Donald Trump and his vice president, J.D. Vance, and his chairman of the FCC, Brendan Carr, not to mention the Attorney General, Pam Bondi. I guarantee you that what they consider to be hate speech is going to be very different from what many members of our country consider to be hate speech. Donald Trump was quite expressed a few days ago. He basically said any speech that’s critical of him or of his policies is hate speech and should be punished. So it’s the danger of that subjectivity—the value judgments, and basically empowering whoever has the enforcement power to pick and choose the messages they personally disfavor. Sara Arjomand : And so in your view, is that kind of the most compelling rationale for safeguarding even the most deeply offensive forms of speech—this kind of worry about how a government might wield their subjective power? Or is it something else? Nadine Strossen: I would say that is—if I had to choose a single rationale, I would say the fact that it is such an inherently vague and broad, manipulable concept that it essentially empowers whoever is enforcing (whether it be a government official, a university official, or, for that matter, a social media platform). It essentially gives them unfettered discretion to pick and choose the ideas that the rest of us will be able to hear and to convey. And that’s extremely dangerous for all of the reasons that I explained—why freedom of speech is so important. It would undermine individual liberty, equality, and democracy alike. Another way to think of it is this: harmful as much speech—including much hateful speech—can be, I think it’s even more harmful to empower the government to suppress it. So it’s like: what is the least dangerous option? Sara Arjomand:  So, there are a couple of things we kind of often hear, I think, on a college campus like this one: words are violence, silence is violence. These are kind of common refrains on American college campuses. Nadine Strossen:  So everything is violence, right? Words are violence and silence is violence, right? And I think hopefully violence is violence too, right? Sara Arjomand: Right. I think that’s kind of something that we hear especially on campuses with the kind of liberal or leftist bent—which, you know, admittedly, is a great many of them. What would you say to my peers who hold that view? Because I think it’s kind of a particularly difficult one to disabuse them of.  Nadine Strossen: It’s a very important argument. My most recent book, which was just published this summer, co-authored with Greg Lukianoff, who’s the CEO of FIRE (Foundation for Individual Rights and Expression), is called The War on Words: 10 Arguments Against Free Speech and Why They Fail. Greg and I came up with the idea for this book because both of us are constantly speaking on college campuses and other venues and constantly hearing anti–free speech arguments. And we thought—we love answering the questions orally, we never get tired of that—but we thought it would be useful to concretize the answers in writing for people that we don’t have a chance to speak to in person. Of all the different arguments that both of us heard, we each came up with our own list of what we thought the 10 most important were. And then our editor also independently made his own selection. Every single one of us concluded that the most important argument that is regularly offered as a supposed justification for restricting speech, that we really had to refute, was exactly the argument that you have flagged, Sara—that words are violence. That has become very poignant and troubling in the wake of the assassination of Charlie Kirk. Because if you fervently believe that words are violence, then it becomes justified to use violence to try to suppress words that you put in that category of violence. And FIRE’s most recent campus survey, which came out the day before Kirk was assassinated, showed that 34% of students on college campuses believe that violence is at least sometimes justified to silence a speaker whose message is detested. On your campus, the answer was about the same—34% of your fellow students thought that. So if we want to protect against actual violence, that is one reason to oppose this argument. But also logically, it falls apart. Sara, you’re a philosopher, so I’m sure you could answer this very compellingly. But Sigmund Freud supposedly said—if he didn’t, somebody else made the observation—that civilization began the first time an argument was responded to by hurling words rather than hurling rocks. Far from being violence, words and expression are the antithesis of violence—the alternative to violence as a mechanism for addressing and resolving conflicts through negotiation, through mediation, through debate and discussion. That is true on an interpersonal level. We don’t beat up somebody—or we should not physically assault somebody—we disagree with. We should engage with them through words. And likewise, for nations that are in conflict with each other, we would hope that rather than war and genocide and other violent tactics, they could have negotiated resolutions of their conflicts to advance human safety and peace and to enhance a long and good life for all of us as individuals and as nation-states.  Sara Arjomand:  Right. So you just mentioned your work—or FIRE. And Greg Lukianoff, who is the president. Can you talk to me a little bit about your work there, and kind of how you think about FIRE’s mission? Nadine Strossen: FIRE was founded a little bit more than 25 years ago, while I was the national president of the ACLU. And the ACLU has done and continues to do very important work in defending free speech for students and faculty members on campus. In fact, at that time, the concept of hate speech codes was just being pioneered in response to exactly the concerns that you raised, Sara—very important concerns about making sure that campuses were welcoming. I think it was before we used the phrase DEI, but the concepts were very much in play. We want to be sure that not only do campuses lower the traditional discriminatory bars to people who had been traditionally excluded, but that we truly create inclusive and welcoming environments.   And it was a very plausible argument that those environments are undermined through hateful expression. The ACLU, even though it had long defended freedom for speech that was hateful (that was antithetical to civil liberties), because of the fear of empowering government that we described, we thought: this is a serious new argument that hadn’t been raised in the past, one that was based more on concerns of equality and dignity and inclusivity. So we very seriously reexamined what our policy should be. And after much study and debate, the national board of the ACLU did something which is unheard of—it unanimously adopted a policy. Very contentious board, very large (more than 80 people), but every single one of us, including people who had devoted their whole lives to civil rights and racial justice, was convinced that no matter how well-intended, hate speech codes were at best ineffective and at worst even counterproductive in furthering those goals. And so the ACLU brought the first couple of lawsuits against campus hate speech codes. We won them. But despite those victories, campuses all across the country were adopting these codes, and it was too much for us to do on top of all the other work. So when I learned, and ACLU colleagues learned, about the forming of this new organization—then called, it had the same acronym but it stood for the Foundation for Individual Rights in Education—co-founded by somebody who was a leader of the ACLU, Harvey Silverglate, I was very excited. You know, we really need an organization that is going to be dedicated full time to this burgeoning area. Often FIRE has handled cases together with the ACLU, often separate. And then, as you know, a couple of years ago—or, I think you know—FIRE expanded its mission to go beyond campus. Because what starts on campus doesn’t stay on campus, and the free speech challenges in the larger society have been growing exponentially. They kept the same acronym, but the “E” now stands for Expression. I’ve been closely involved with FIRE personally since the beginning, because I’ve always been very concerned about campus freedom and about free speech. From the beginning, I was on the board of FIRE, even while I was the national president of the ACLU. And then a few years ago, when I had stepped down from full-time teaching so I would be able to become a full-time evangelist for free speech—seriously, that was my idea, and it certainly has come to fruition—it was about that time that FIRE was expanding, and they asked me to become—I was one of its first two senior fellows. I’m very proud of that. And I continue to work very closely with both FIRE and the ACLU and a couple other organizations that are committed to academic freedom and free speech. I continue to be completely, enthusiastically supportive of the ACLU’s overall mission, which is broader than that of FIRE and these other organizations—defending all fundamental freedoms for all people. I’m passionately committed to all of those rights, from A to Z—or abortion to zero tolerance, to mention a couple of examples. But for the reasons I explained at the outset of our interview, I am absolutely convinced that freedom of speech is the essential bedrock for advocating every single other human right. And so, therefore, in my limited remaining time on this planet, I want to concentrate my time on that absolutely essential fundamental right. Sara Arjomand: Do you feel that kind of making these arguments is getting harder? I mean, has it kind of become more of an uphill battle as you’re, you know, kind of evangelizing today, versus maybe if you’d been on this kind of, you know, touring journey 10 years ago or something? Nadine Strossen:  Actually, it has really stayed the same, Sara, through all of the factual changes and through all of the changes in who’s exercising political power—all of the cultural changes. The basic problem from a free speech perspective has been consistent, and that is that the vast majority of people believe in freedom of speech for me, but not for thee. People are constantly changing their views depending on whether they like or dislike the particular message or the particular speaker. And I can illustrate that just by very recent events. When Donald Trump and Republicans were running for office, they were campaigning on free speech and against censoring hate speech and against cancel culture. Trump made this a big deal in his inaugural address. And I think his very first executive order—at least it was on the first day of issuing executive orders—was one that was, you know, “we’re going to get rid of censorship and restore free speech.” And how quickly things have changed. He and his attorney general are now saying, and many other Republicans are now saying, “We should censor hate speech” and “Cancel culture is fine as long as it’s coming from the right rather than from the left.” But conversely, in fairness, many progressives and Democrats who were in favor of censoring hate speech, who said, “Oh, there’s no such thing as cancel culture, it’s only consequence culture”—now that the power of those concepts is being wielded against messages that they support, their perspective has changed. I think that those of us who—and I don’t say this at all in a self-righteous way—I really understand people’s fervor about wanting to restrict ideas that they believe are fraught with danger. And it takes… But I do also believe that if I have a chance to explain, giving some current examples and examples from history of how even the best-intended censorship ends up causing more danger than alleviating the danger, then I can persuade people. But you can’t do it in a sound bite. Whereas, you know, saying, “That’s a hateful message, let’s silence the message,” is easy to convey in a sound bite. One really good example, which has been in the news lately, is burning the American flag—which Donald Trump is yet again saying that we should outlaw. That would require amending the Constitution, because the Supreme Court has held, including with the support of conservative justices, that any law banning or punishing flag burning would squarely violate that bedrock viewpoint neutrality principle. But I remember at the time that the Supreme Court first reached those holdings, they were so politically unpopular all across the political spectrum. The then-president of the United States, George H. W. Bush, the very next day gave a speech in which he called for amending the Constitution. And we were within one vote of amending the Constitution. Almost immediately, the House of Representatives passed the constitutional amendment by the mandatory two-thirds vote, and almost immediately, three-quarters of the states supported the constitutional amendment. In the U.S. Senate, it came within one vote of the two-thirds margin. So when people really detest an expression, it’s just like common sense that we should get rid of it. And I remember speaking to many members of the House and Senate who opposed the constitutional amendment, but they said, “I can’t say that, because I can’t say it in a sound bite. And my opponent—all my opponent has to do is get on TV,” or nowadays they’d say on your podcast. And I guess podcasts give you more time to make the point, but in a TV ad you can’t—it’s a sound bite. My opponent just has to say: “This person supports burning the American flag.” You can’t respond to that quickly. Sara Arjomand: Right, right. So I guess you just kind of mentioned the FIRE report, which was released a few weeks ago. And I guess for context for listeners—Claremont McKenna, we claimed first place. Nadine Strossen: Yay! And you’re, I think, the only… It’s the second time you’ve been in first place as the most speech-protective, congenial environment for speech of all the campuses surveyed. This year it was 257, and I think you’re the only school that has ever been number one more than once. Sara Arjomand:  Oh wow! Well, congrats to us, I guess. Right—and Pomona clocked in, unfortunately, at 247 out of 257. And then the other kind of Claremont Colleges, their placements spanned that range. Can you share any insights into the findings from FIRE? Nadine Strossen: Yes. So first of all, for anybody who’s interested, I highly recommend you to take a look at the report on FIRE’s website. It’s very transparent. All of the data are available, all of the factors that were considered for your university and all of the others are available. And FIRE staff who collaborated in the report openly invite every member of the campus community who’s interested in doing a deeper dive to contact them. The reasons why Claremont McKenna did so well have to do primarily with excellent policies and a complete absence of any punitive actions by the administration against either faculty or students for engaging in controversial but protected speech. So, on the policy front: FIRE, as you may know, ranks campuses by red light, yellow light, or green light. A green light means there are no policies that expressly—no express policies—that are inconsistent with First Amendment principles. Sadly, there are very few campuses in the whole country that have a green light rating. So the fact that CMC has that already puts it in a very rarefied category of campuses. Harvard, my alma mater, has a red light rating because it has quite a few policies that, on their face, violate basic free speech principles. The other two policy vectors that weighed heavily in favor of your positive rating were that: you have adopted some version of the Chicago free speech principles. You’re a private campus, so you’re not bound by the First Amendment itself, but you’ve chosen voluntarily to adhere to principles that are completely consistent with the First Amendment. And secondly: you have adopted institutional neutrality, which I was just discussing in detail with your wonderful president—who is an expert, and who had personally written the policy, I had not realized that. Basically—the details can vary from campus to campus—but the basic idea is that the college as an institution does not announce positions, does not issue statements on contested matters of public policy, unless they directly affect the mission of the college itself. So that would mean there would be no CMC statement—or statement from a leader, such as the president—on the war in Gaza. But there could and should be a statement about a Trump administration policy that is directly affecting the university, such as a policy of defunding or of seeking to dictate what the curriculum should be, that violates academic freedom. So you got top grades on all of those policies. The only area where there was a deficit—and here I have to say I’m going to give you the honest, less positive part of the assessment—is that even though CMC is number one, its grade is still a B–. And barely a B–. That was done by a rounding up, because FIRE does not have grade inflation. It uses the strict traditional curve. I remember B– is the median, right? And as FIRE’s authors of the report said, we really applaud the schools that are on the top end. But the fact is that they’re just doing less badly, less poorly than the overwhelming majority. Two-thirds of all the campuses in the report—257—two-thirds got F grades. Where the downside for most schools was in this student survey, where students report a very sad degree of self-censorship—that they don’t feel comfortable having a free and frank and candid conversation about the most important contested issues. 57% percent of students reported—I’m sorry, 51%, could not have such a candid conversation about Israel/Gaza. But the second-highest swath of students nationwide—and your campus was quite typical on this factor—the second most self-censored topic was abortion . Something like 47% said they couldn’t have a frank conversation about abortion. And then right under that was the 2024 elections: 42% of students said they couldn’t frankly discuss the elections. Sara Arjomand: You sound kind of incredulous. Is this surprising to you? Nadine Strossen: Yeah—and you’re not? Sara Arjomand: No, I am. It’s.. Nadine Strossen: The Gaza issue doesn’t surprise me—I know how fraught that is. But I’m really astounded that abortion, among other things… Because statistics do show that campuses are overwhelmingly liberal, and so I would think that the overwhelmingly liberal, predominant portion of the student body would feel very comfortable discussing abortion and advocating a pro-choice perspective. Here’s a real—this one maybe I’m not as shocked as I would be if I weren’t a free speech crusader: 20% of students say they cannot comfortably discuss free speech. I mean, free speech is seen as being such a controversial topic. Hate speech, which you raised earlier—27% said they can’t comfortably discuss hate speech. So that is really significant, Sara, because it means free speech was separated from hate speech. So even just plain free speech is considered… what you and I are talking about now, 20% of your classmates, and students all across the country, would not want to have this conversation. So thank you for being courageous. Sara Arjomand: No, of course—and thank you. Oh, I guess I’ll just say on the kind of abortion point—I mean, I imagine that it’s probably the pro-life students who are self-censoring. Was that…? Nadine Strossen: But that would surprise me, that they would reach such a high percentage then, right? Sara Arjomand: You’re right, that’s strange. Nadine Strossen:  So maybe my arithmetic is wrong. But how could you get to 46% or whatever it was? I doubt that those are all pro-life students. Sara Arjomand: No, it’s a good point—maybe people who are just kind of less convicted about the pro-choice view? Nadine Strossen: But anyway, anyway. This is a serious issue that, as I was discussing with some of your faculty members, and FIRE recognizes, is not directly within the control of the administration. So this is a factor that is weighted less heavily, in fairness, I think. Because no matter how good the policies are, students are still—and even if students aren’t afraid that they’re going to be punished by the administration (which, realistically, students here are not going to be punished by the administration or by faculty)—they’re afraid of their peers. And so, you know, peers have to change their own culture. Us old folks can’t do it for you. Sara Arjomand:  Do you have advice for us? Nadine Strossen: I can only say that, from experience, that to be true to yourself, you have to be comfortable expressing your own views. And to be true to yourself in the sense of also wanting to discover and pursue truth—and having humility that you might not have arrived at perfect truth on your own, especially at your relatively young age. But maybe the older you get, the more aware you become of your own limitations—that it benefits you to listen to people who have different perspectives. You may change your own views; you may discover that you were wrong, or refine your thinking, which is a great benefit. Or you will learn to have empathy and understanding for different views, and have a sharper, more nuanced appreciation of your own views. So just in terms of being a happy human being, that kind of robust discourse is important. But beyond that, to be an effective and engaged member of our political community, you really have to hone the skills, the desire, and the benefits of engaging in negotiation. Going back to an earlier point: if you are to be part of a democratic process that resolves conflicts in a peaceful, nonviolent way. Sara Arjomand: We’re running up against the time here. But if I can ask kind of a final question: was there a case during your tenure at the ACLU that kind of profoundly tested the limits of your free speech commitments? And can you tell me about what you kind of learned from that experience—how you stand up for your principles, even when it’s uncomfortable? Nadine Strossen: I have to say that, in terms of the principle, I never found it hard. And I don’t say that in a self-righteous way—it’s the opposite. I mean, I never was somebody who felt a conflict between hating an idea and wondering whether it should be censored. Although I’m always open to evidence. I engage with every anti–free speech argument I can, and I’m always looking for data. But all of the information I’ve seen has convinced me that the most effective way to counter an idea that is dangerous is through more speech, rather than censorship. So from that perspective, it’s never been hard. But in terms of the personal blowback I’ve gotten—it was quite painful when I wrote a book that was published in 1995 called Defending Pornography: Free Speech, Sex, and the Fight for Women’s Rights . At the time—and to some extent this has continued, though not nearly as dramatically—there was a big division among feminists (of which I have always considered myself to be one), between the so-called radical feminists, who believed that a certain category of sexual expression, that was from their perspective demeaning or degrading or dehumanizing to women perpetuated discriminatory attitudes toward women, which fostered not only discrimination but also violence against women, including rape and other forms of sexual assault. And so therefore, they used the term pornography to apply to that category of sexual expression.  And others of us—classical liberal feminists, civil libertarian feminists, if you will—who were very concerned about fighting against discrimination and violence against women, but believed that censorship, again, no matter how well-intended, would do more harm than good. This was based on a lot of history of laws against sexual expression targeting feminist expression, expression and information about contraception and abortion, about LGBTQ sexuality, about women’s health. So there was a lot of free speech from the so-called radical camp. And I say “so-called radical” because, to me, it was a profoundly reactionary viewpoint—but, you know, we’ll use the term that was commonly used. They engaged in what other people would call hate speech against myself and colleagues of mine. It didn’t particularly hurt me—I had developed very thick skin by that point—but it hurt me to see the pain that was caused to my husband in particular. I think each of us—we’re very well partnered, very fortunate—each of us gets more distressed and hurt about somebody who is hurting the other one. So very nasty things were said about me that were hard on him. He didn’t like the publicity. He’s a big free speech supporter, but those were troubling times. Sara Arjomand:  How has kind of the reception of that book—and obviously it was difficult then—how do you think it would be received if you published it today? Nadine Strossen: It’s funny that you should ask, because two years ago NYU Press got in touch with me and said, “You know, this book is as relevant and timely as ever, because we’ve seen an increased volume of attacks on sexual expression using the rubric of pornography and obscenity.” And it’s mostly been wielded by the right against curriculum materials and library materials in schools and in public libraries that have to do with feminism and abortion and LGBTQ writers and perspectives. I should say, at the time that I wrote the book, I documented that under either the radical feminist definition or the traditional obscenity definition—no matter what you labeled it and how you defined it—any attack on sexual expression disproportionately silenced not only feminist expression, but also LGBTQ expression. That was a major theme in my book, and that really has come home to roost. So NYU Press said, “We want to republish the book as part of our NYU Classics series. Will you write a new preface for it?” And I said yes. So that happened. It came out in 2023. Sadly, I think the feminists have become—there’s less support, although it hasn’t gone away. I have debated feminists who share my goals of protecting women’s dignity and privacy and autonomy, and they’ve been primarily concerned about so-called revenge porn, or non-consensual intimate imagery. And there, I would say we have a basic agreement—if the law is sufficiently narrowly defined. Beyond that, the #MeToo movement and the movement against sexual harassment is very important, but too often it has been too expansive, to include any sexual expression no matter how well-intended or justified—including serious academic discussion, serious artistic expression. I think the best-known example there is Laura Kipnis, a film studies professor at Northwestern, who wrote an essay in The Chronicle of Higher Education  in which she was opposing over-expansive concepts of sexual harassment as extending to expression, including serious academic discussions of sexuality and gender. Ironically, some students complained that her essay constituted sexual harassment, and she was subjected to what she called the “Title IX Inquisition,” sort of kangaroo court proceedings. She wrote a whole book about it. So the problems, unfortunately, persist. Sara Arjomand: Well, thank you so much for speaking to me. I really appreciate it. Nadine Strossen : Well, right back at you, Sara. Thank you for defending and exercising free speech so effectively. Thank you.

Claremont, it's time to preach what we practice. Credit: Elizabeth Thomsen, Flickr Last spring, Josh Morganstein CMC ‘25 and I took “Dostoevsky’s Russia” with Professor Gary Hamburg. Morganstein then published an article in The Forum  drawing a striking parallel between Luigi Mangione and Rodion Raskolnikov, the protagonist of Dostoevsky’s Crime and Punishment .  Intelligent and well-educated, charming and handsome, both Mangione and Raskolnikov were driven to misery by their conditions. Mangione detested a healthcare system he held responsible for his chronic pain. Raskolnikov, crippled by the poverty rampant in Petersburg, was unable to finish law school. Both found individuals to blame, convincing themselves that the world would be better off if their targets were dead. Mangione found the UnitedHealthcare CEO Brian Thompson. Raskolnikov found the local pawnbroker, a miserly and exploitative lender.  But don’t be so quick to sympathize, Morganstein warns, either with Raskolnikov or Mangione. Dostoevsky makes clear that Raskolnikov’s motives were vile, for he believed that “great men” had the moral right to transgress laws—that he was a Napoleon ridding the world of a “pernicious louse.” Mangione too seemed to have a vigilante complex .  To fully understand his drive—and the drives of politically-motivated killers in the real world—one must consider the culture in which Raskolnikov was immersed. In Petersburg, bold theories of morality and justice rationalized extreme, often immoral, change. Such action was lauded in the abstract, often by well-established members of society, but— thankfully —never initiated. Sound familiar?  In the opening scenes of the novel, Raskolnikov overhears a student in a tavern arguing that killing the pawnbroker for her money would benefit Petersburg residents—that thousands of lives would be improved by the death of one. Yet, when asked if he himself would kill the pawnbroker, the student sputters, “Of course not! I was only arguing the justice of it…It’s nothing to do with me.” Later, attendees at a dinner party draw upon fashionable theories of the era, insisting that all societal dysfunction can be reformed by one “mathematical head.” They pin their hopes on a brilliant individual, one great man, who will cleanse Petersburg of its ills. Never does it occur to them that their “self-gratifying chatter”—their idle talk directed towards no tangible action—intensifies the desperation and delusions of men like Raskolnikov. We see a similar phenomenon today. “One life for thousands.” “Overthrow the oppressor.” “We’re under siege.” Pithy one-liners saturate X posts and thinkpieces, classrooms and podcasts. An opponent is denigrated to sub-human status, just as Raskolnikov viewed the pawnbroker: a louse, “sickly, stupid, and ill-natured.” Soon enough, such grisly ideas possess a mind. They are “parasites” that “had it coming,” said Mangione .  “Everyone wants an excuse for not doing the right thing,” said Vance Boelter , a few years before he was indicted for killing Minnesota lawmaker Melissa Hortman. “I had enough of his hatred,” said Tyler Robinson , Charlie Kirk’s accused killer.  Every one of these individuals was instigated, in part, by a culture that convinced them they were “doing the right thing.” Yet, in the moment that mattered, in the moment they pulled the trigger, they were alone. Where were their supporters? The intellectuals that insist upon violent revolution—whether to break the shackles of oppression or reclaim the American way of life—sat back in their armchairs. The most ardent apologists on the Internet  move on quickly, leaving only their digital   footprint  behind. They fan the flames and raise the temperature— but stop there . They won’t pull the trigger. They won’t join a revolution. They won’t join a civil war. Most people’s privately-held convictions are incompatible with their public, inflammatory rhetoric. In their heart of hearts, they know that no ideology can justify the brutality of killing someone in cold blood. Most people know better. Raskolnikovs don’t.  My fellow students—both on the left and the right— we  are the ones who know better. It is no accident that many of you fail to preach what you in fact practice . You celebrate  acts of violence you’d never dare commit. You encourage others to wage vengeful wars  in which you’d never fight.  You are like the members of Petersburg’s elite inner circles. You endlessly pontificate and never follow through, leaving the most desperate, unstable individuals to take matters into their own hands. Your “common and ordinary youthful talk” is what it was in Dostoevsky’s time, and what it will be in the future: pretense . If found guilty, Luigi Mangione, Vance Boelter, and Tyler Robinson will either rot in prison or be executed by the state. Back in Claremont, all those that cheered them will settle into their lucrative careers and lead cushy lives. You’ll attend Fourth of July barbecues and take a vacation for Memorial Day weekend. You’ll reap the benefits of life in a society you claim  to want to tear down.  I don’t believe that this inaction is mere cowardice or self-interest. Rather, it’s silent proof of the appreciation you’d never voice—appreciation for all that a pluralistic liberal society has to offer. You know this system works, that tolerance  works.  Of course, it’s not convenient for anyone’s politics—be they on the left or the right—to praise the merits of this system and tackle societal ills in accordance  with its rules. That’s why you are happy to spectate, leaving agitated individuals to do the dirty work. Because deep down, you know that political violence, that illiberality, is  dirty. That it is noxious in all its forms, especially as a means to extinguish free expression.  To my peers: End your hypocrisy. Bring your words into alignment with your actions. This means defending freedom of speech even when you despise the content and tolerating your ideological adversaries even—and especially—when they diametrically oppose your own convictions.       I can only hope that we learn this lesson before we produce yet another American Raskolnikov.  This article was published in conjunction with the Claremont Independent .

The Druze of Syria stand on the brink of erasure, as their endurance is met with global silence. Credit: Jalaa Marey / AFP - Getty Images The Druze of Syria face a crisis that the world refuses to see. Located primarily in the Suwayda region in South Syria, this small religious minority has survived for centuries by maintaining a delicate balance in a region defined by sectarian violence and shifting empires. The Druze faith is an independent monotheistic religion with a distinct theology that emphasizes loyalty to the community, ethical living, and cautious engagement with the outside world. Throughout history, the Druze have resiliently protected their culture and their people, often standing alone against overwhelming odds. Today, their resilience is being tested once again. More than a decade of Assad’s rule and Syrian Civil War has left Syria deeply fractured. The Druze find themselves caught between a weakened central government, rival armed groups, and regional actors with conflicting agendas. In mid-July 2025, government and affiliated forces extrajudicially executed  46 Druze men and women in Suwayda, targeting homes, a school, a hospital, and public spaces. But the killings were only one instance in a wider crisis. Weeks of clashes  between Druze militias, Bedouin tribes, and government forces killed hundreds and displaced more than 160,000 people in July alone. UN experts documented that 105 Druze women and girls were abducted, some subjected to sexual violence , and many remain missing.  At the same time, power, water, and telecommunications collapsed  across much of Sweida city, while hospitals struggled to function under bombardment. For weeks, the main highway to Damascus was blocked, cutting off aid deliveries until late August until U.N. trucks finally gained access . Local Druze factions have mobilized to defend their communities with the newly formed Druze-led National Guard and smaller militias in Jaramana, yet they face threats far beyond what these groups can handle. The international response has been minimal. Israel has stepped  in, delivering 10,000 aid packages in March, offering medical treatment, and granting limited work permits in the Golan Heights. Meanwhile, the United Nations and humanitarian organizations have provided critical, but limited assistance (including convoys delivering food, water, and medical supplies to tens of thousands in Suwayda and surrounding areas). Despite these efforts, the scale of the crisis far exceeds what any neighbor or aid group can provide. Beyond Israel’s relatively proactive support, much of the international community remains fatigued by years of conflict and largely disengaged from the fate of a people who are too often ignored. This neglect is not a minor oversight, it is a moral failure. When governments and international institutions refuse to act, they set a dangerous precedent: small communities can be erased with impunity. The Druze, whose history is intertwined with the survival of pluralism in the Middle East, now risk being slowly erased. Their prayer houses and religious sanctuaries, schools, and cultural traditions face destruction. Their children grow up amid violence, and their elders witness neighbors who had lived alongside them for generations disappear or be displaced. The Druze do not merely suffer quietly; they organize, resist, and survive. But survival alone is not enough. Without consistent international attention and aid, centuries of culture and community could vanish. There are actions that can be taken. Humanitarian aid must reach the most vulnerable. Those committing violence must face accountability. International actors must document abuses, amplify voices, and exert pressure on regional powers to protect minority communities. The Druze are not asking for intervention to fight their wars. They are demanding international recognition of what has happened in Suwayda, support in the form of humanitarian access and legal protection, and guarantees that future abuses, extrajudicial killings, disappearances, and sexual violence will be investigated and punished so they might live without fear. The story of the Druze is a reminder of the human cost of indifference. Their faith and culture have faced relentless challenges, yet endurance alone cannot protect a people from being erased. The international community stands at a crossroad; it can choose to uphold justice, human dignity, and the protection of minorities, or remain complicit through silence. The Druze do not seek intervention in their conflicts, but demand recognition, peace, and solidarity. Their survival is more than a humanitarian issue. It is a call to honor a people deeply rooted in the Middle East. The future of their legacy rests on the world’s commitment today.

Learn more about the First-Year Class President candidates! Campaign banners hang along the balcony of Appleby As the semester ramps up and the Class of 2029 settles into college life, a familiar fleet of banners hang outside Appleby Hall. The First-Year Class President campaigns are in full swing, and six eager candidates are vying for the opportunity to represent the newest cohort of CMC students, promising events, food, community, and memories. The CMC First-Year Class President (FYCP) sits on the Executive Board of ASCMC and serves as a representative of the Class of 2029. The FYCP manages a budget of $3,000, which they can use to plan events and foster community within their class and across CMC's student body. Candidates were required to collect 50 signatures to be eligible to run. They will each give a speech at the ASCMC Senate meeting on Monday, September 15th at 8:00 pm in Pickford Auditorium. Voting opens at midnight that evening and will remain open for 20 hours, until 8:00 pm on Tuesday, September 16th. Read below to learn more about each of the candidates and their plans to serve the Class of 2029 in the upcoming year! FYCP Candidates (alphabetical order by last name) Suhas Beeravelli Varnika Bhargava Ludovico (Ludo) Cordara Weitao Ke Zoey Marzo David Yusten Jr. Varnika Bhargava Hey everyone! I think a lot of us walk into college with the mindset that it's going to be full of fun side-quests and adventures, that everyday is going to be like a movie. But then we come to CMC and have 70 pages of reading, 20 lines of python and 5 applications to do. My goal is to provide opportunities for college to still be like a movie, giving you experiences "for the plot" so you can walk out of CMC with a stacked resume and crazy lore :) Here are just some of my ideas: Stoplight party (wear green if you're taken, red if you're single) 5c freshman "frat" party Line dancing  Silent Disco  Make your own mocktail night Movie marathons and reality TV show watch parties Karaoke nights I also want to build community beyond just events through: A ponding committee so birthdays can become a class tradition Free snacks/drinks between classes  Dorm Tours Tuesdays  Speed dating to get to know each other Open cabinet meetings at late night snack so you can share your ideas and concerns I know that everyone has a lot on their plate, so I want to be a president who is transparent, receptive to your ideas, but also trustworthy so you can come to whichever events you are free for and trust that you will have a great time! Overall, I just want to serve you and make this the best year possible so vote Varnika B for freshman year to be a movie! Ludovico Cordara I’m running for Freshman Class President because I believe leadership starts with listening and ends with action. My campaign rests on four values: community, diversity of thought, efficiency, and transparency. First, community means putting people first. I want every student to feel represented, connected, and included. With so many passions and perspectives at CMC, we deserve a leader who can bring us together, not divide us. Second, diversity of thought is more than a phrase—it’s who I am. I bring the perspective of an Italian-American who has lived abroad and seen how different ideas strengthen a community. I will work to ensure every student feels comfortable voicing their views. Third, efficiency means keeping things simple and effective. I won’t make empty promises or chase impossible goals. Instead, I’ll focus on small, tangible wins—like improving campus life with simple, practical changes that matter day to day. Finally, transparency means being accessible and accountable. Every Friday from 11:30 to 12:30, I’ll be at Collins, ready to hear your ideas, suggestions, or even just have a conversation. You’ll always know where to find me, and you’ll always have a voice. Together, these values create a clear vision: a class united by community, strengthened by diverse perspectives, built on efficiency, and guided by transparency. I’m not running to stand in front of you—I’m running to stand with you. Vote for Ludo: One vote, countless wins. Weitao Ke Good morning, afternoon, and evening, my lovely people! I’m Weitao, the friendly, energetic, chalant FOB guy from China who greets you every time you see me. I’m running for FYCP because I can actually bring this class together—not just as a slogan, but as action. First, once elected, I’ll appoint every one of my opponents to my cabinet and split my $700 stipend evenly with them. Why? Because I know and respect them. They’re amazing people with great ideas, and they reflect the diversity of our grade (though yes—we could use more female cabinet members!). I don’t want division; I want connection. If you’re the type who goes to dining halls and orders “a little bit of everything,” you gotta rank Weitao #1 on your ballot, nah? Second, I already know many of you—not just names, but your halls, teams, classes, interests, and backgrounds. From athletes to artists, scientists to lawyers, north quad to south quad, internationals to locals—I’ve listened to and laughed with you. Connecting with diverse people is my biggest joy, something I’ve done across 40 countries (Antarctica, I’m coming for you next). I’ll be a president who actually loves the job. As your FOB president—Funniest On Ballot, Freshest On Board, or Free Office Boba—you’ll get humor, energy, and inclusiveness. Even if you don’t rank me #1, I’ll always be here to hear you out—whether it’s ranting about classes, policies, dining hall food, or the meaning of life. Let’s make this class not just connected, but unforgettable. Vote Weita o #1! Zoey Marzo #GOWITHZO Hi everyone! My name is Zoey Marzo, and I’m running to be your Freshman Class President. A little about me: I’m from Whitefish, Montana, where I spent my time captaining my tennis team, serving as student body president, and starting a student outreach group focused on making sure everyone felt like they belonged. I also volunteer with my therapy dog, Winnie, and I love baking cakes for my friends, music, and I am so excited for this upcoming season of Dancing With the Stars. At CMC, my goal is simple: to help our class feel connected and to make sure your ideas shape our year. I don’t believe one person should decide what we want as a class. That’s why I plan to keep things organized with quick surveys, open meetings, and conversations so our events and initiatives reflect you. Already, I’ve heard excitement for ideas like a “Hometown Night” party, Saturday s’mores hangouts, Taco Bell catering, class merch, and fruit at midnight snack! If elected, here are my first priorities: Take over our cmc2029 Instagram to keep everyone in the loop about events and opportunities. Also, create content to build community, like fit check Friday and student spotlights Create a grade-wide GroupMe so no one misses out, and we have one clear place for sharing information Follow through on events you want, from fun socials to study spaces to new traditions. You can count on me to stay organized, listen, and actually get things done. Freshman year is our foundation — let’s make it one where everyone feels included, supported, and proud to be part of the Class of 2029. David Yusten Jr. Class of 2029, I want to know you! I believe that what makes CMC different from other schools is our tight-knit community – I want to take that out of proportion. College needs to be more than a set of classes, preprofessional network-maxxing, and building up a resume for the future. The people we meet, the experiences that we share, and the connections that we make are absolutely vital if we want to succeed in the other aspects of school. As FYCP, I want to create spaces for this to happen; I’d hold events like karaoke, comedy nights, “the dating game”, small cooking classes in Janie’s, as well as DJ Boiler Rooms and themed parties. The biggest idea that I have is something I call FROSHFEST: A 5C wide spirit week with daily freshman events across all campuses – uniting our grade, giving clubs and organizations spaces to engage in the 5cs, and creating a tradition that revolutionizes freshman year. But beyond that, I want to use funding EXACTLY how our class wants me to. To accomplish this, there’d be survey links at every function to get immediate feedback for improvement. I want to set up “office hours” or fireside chats at Beckett’s Fireplace on a weekly basis where I can talk individually with any of my classmates. We could talk about policy, the food at Collins, or even just do homework in silence. Finally, I want every single meeting related to my presidency to be open-doors. The words of my classmates matter, and I want them to not only be heard but also implemented in the impact I make for my class. All in all, I hope you choose someone who wants to serve you. I hope you choose someone who wants to know you. Candidates who did not provide a statement will still give speeches.

Karen Hao is an award-winning reporter and the best-selling author of Empire of AI: Dreams and Nightmares in Sam Altman's OpenAI. Hao sits down with Sara Arjomand '26 to discuss the book, Open AI's troubled history, and the race towards AGI. This interview transcript has been edited for length and clarity. Credit: Shoko Takayasu Sara Arjomand: Karen Hao is a best-selling author and award-winning reporter. She writes about artificial intelligence and was the first journalist to profile OpenAI. Her book Empire of AI  was published in May of this year. It's a fascinating look at the AI industry and OpenAI in particular, as well as at some of the industry's more eccentric characters. Karen Hao, welcome to the podcast! Karen Hao: Thank you so much for having me. Sara Arjomand: So, the title of your book is Empire of AI.  Why “empire”? Karen Hao: Yeah, so I make this argument in the book that we really need to start thinking of tech companies like OpenAI as new forms of empire, because they aren't just operating as businesses that are providing us products and services anymore. They're also actively terraforming our Earth, reshaping our politics and geopolitics. They're developing a controlling influence on our professional lives, our social lives, and many, many different facets of society. And they, of course, have also consolidated an extraordinary amount of political and economic power. So to call them just a business is really insufficient for encapsulating every different way that they operate and that they are exerting influence on our lives. I wanted people to grapple with just the sheer scope and scale of what these entities have become, and to realize that they're actually more powerful than pretty much any nation state in the world now. If you recognize that they are empires, then you can also more effectively conclude the consequences of continuing to allow them to operate in this way. Empires are antithetical to democracy, and allowing these companies to just do whatever they want, have access to embedded resources, over time will lead to the erosion of our foundation of democracy. Sara Arjomand: Okay, we'll talk more about that in a bit. But I suppose—you were the first person to profile OpenAI, the first journalist who was let inside its doors. Can you tell me about how that trip to San Francisco came to be? Karen Hao: Yeah, so I was a reporter at MIT Technology Review  at the time, which is a publication that specializes in emerging technologies and, back then, was very focused on fundamental research—like pre-commercialization technologies. I was covering AI, looking at the fundamental research coming mostly out of academia at the time, but also a little bit out of industry. OpenAI came on my radar because they were conceptualized as a fundamental nonprofit research lab, not as a company that was meant to create consumer products like ChatGPT. In 2019, OpenAI started having some degree of pivot away from its nonprofit roots towards a more commercial orientation. Sam Altman became the CEO officially at that time, Microsoft invested a billion dollars within the company, and it felt to me that this organization that was already having some kind of influence on the way that AI was being developed could one day also end up having a lot of influence on the way AI was introduced to the public, and the way that the public would come to understand what this technology is, and all of these changes that were happening would affect that.  So I just proposed to the company: you know my work, you know that I understand AI research really well, it seems like you're changing a lot as an organization, and you might want to re-introduce yourself to the public. They really liked that idea at the time, so they agreed to let me go embed for three days within the organization and work on my profile. But through the course of reporting the profile, I ended up coming to conclusions that they really didn't like, and ultimately they refused to talk to me for three years after that. Sara Arjomand: Right. It's interesting that they kind of welcomed you in the first moment, knowing what they were doing behind closed doors. Why do you think the company decided to give you access, knowing ahead of time that you were bound by journalistic duty to call it like you see it? Karen Hao: I think there's kind of two ways to answer that question. One is that a lot of people in the tech industry, surprisingly, do not really understand how journalism works. There are a lot of problems with access journalism and the games that the tech industry will play to dangle carrots in front of journalists to entice them into following more of the company narrative so that they can continue getting access moving forward. But separately from that, a lot of companies in Silicon Valley—and OpenAI in particular—engage in a lot of self-delusion. They don't actually see themselves in the same way that the average public member might see what they're doing. So I don't think they felt to the same degree that I did, representing the public voice, that they were engaging in strange behavior and that there was a disconnect behind closed doors. I won't say there was zero awareness, because, of course, at the end of the day there were people I interviewed who pointed this disconnect out, and that's part of the reason why I started noticing it more myself. But by and large, especially among the leadership—the ones who made the decision to let me in—I think they had a story they told themselves about how they were extremely mission-oriented and aligned with their mission. Sara Arjomand: Yeah, let's talk a little bit about that leadership. There's this popular notion of a “tech bro,” a person within whom nerdiness and superciliousness are paradoxically consummated. What role does ego—and I'm thinking here of people like Sam Altman and Elon Musk—play in the OpenAI story? Karen Hao: Yeah, I think to understand the AI industry today is really to understand it as a story of ego, profit, and ideology. It’s really a mix of these three things. When Sam Altman and Elon Musk first co-founded OpenAI, in hindsight it’s so obvious that it was an egotistical project, but in the moment—it was a different time. It was the end of 2015, when Cambridge Analytica hadn’t happened yet, and there hadn’t yet been a backlash against the tech industry. So people more naturally believed—or suspended their disbelief—around the possibility of these tech titans fundamentally being altruistic and doing things for good. The reason why they initially started the organization was because they were upset that Google was creating a monopoly on AI research, and therefore having a dominant influence on AI development. And it was Google, not them. So much of the way the industry has continued to operate since then is just that—it’s tech bros being frustrated or motivated by the idea of wanting to reshape what they see as a profoundly consequential technology in their own image. Sara Arjomand: So you've written a lot about these AI luminaries, the big names—people like Altman and Musk—but I want to know, what is the median employee at a place like OpenAI like? Can you speak to their values? How does the average worker conceive of their place within the empire, and do they see it as an empire at all? Karen Hao: It's a great question. Employees at OpenAI in particular are—I wouldn’t say they’re so much of an outlier, but there’s something quite interesting about the fact that OpenAI conceptualizes  itself as a mission-driven nonprofit, that ends up attracting a certain kind of person and also creates a certain kind of motivation for why people—a certain narrative that people tell themselves about why they’re doing what they’re doing. When I used to cover Facebook, when I talked with employees, they were quite clear that they were working for a business, and that ultimately—even if they really wanted to do the right thing—they understood that the bottom line superseded the right thing. They knew that they were entering into that constrained environment and they were cognizant of their limitations and just trying to navigate within those limitations. Whereas employees at OpenAI often do not feel that way. They don’t feel like they’re working at a pure business. They feel like there is still something different about OpenAI because there’s still a nonprofit entity that is governing the for-profit, and they feel that there's a more of a  pure-hearted goal that they could achieve by being at the company. But, then again, it also really depends on when the employee arrived at Open AI. More early day employees that arrived when it was still a nonprofit, I think, feel more strongly about that, whereas employees who’ve arrived more recently—when now OpenAI is going to potentially be valued at $500 billion dollars—they’re no longer under that false pretense. They’re sort of joining thinking that they’re just at a hyper-scaling startup, and they’re building products and they’re changing the world in the way social media companies change the world. So the values of these employees are quite across the board. But I think generally, they do see themselves as good people—no one ever sees themselves as the bad character. And so I don’t really think most of them see these companies as empires. Although I was surprised after I published my book that there were a number of people within the company and in the industry that did reach out to me and say that after hearing the argument, it was hard for them to argue against it, but that they had never arrived at that conclusion themselves before. Sara Arjomand: Hmm. I mean, I know there's some overlap between the tech space and the effective altruism community. And so, you know, Oxford philosopher Nick Bostrom was among the first to sound the alarm about the risks of unaligned AI. And his 2014 book Super Intelligence  got Musk kind of obsessed with the issue—you talk about this in your book. So to what extent did EA-type fears of existential risk motivate that slide into the more profit-oriented, commercial model? Can you discuss the impact of “ends justify the means” reasoning? Karen Hao:  That's such a good question. Yeah, so the effective altruism community would say themselves that they have tried everything possible to prevent the slide from a more idealistic nonprofit to this for-profit-driven corporation. But yeah, exactly what you articulated in your question—I concluded by the end of my reporting that they actually worked hand in hand, inadvertently, with more accelerationist type people—who were more clearly aligned with “Yes, we want to just build this technology as quickly as possible and release it”—the EAs worked hand-in-hand with them to pave the way for that transformation.  And a lot of it was, I think, because EAs believe that AI is existentially risky—that that is paramount to any other kind of challenge. And a faction of the EAs then think, like, the conclusion, therefore, is to try and accelerate the development of the technology as quickly as possible, so that they can maintain control over it, instead of having a bad actor arrive at it first. Because if the bad actor arrives there, then, like, everyone in humanity might die.  And so in a weird way, they twisted themselves into this logical pretzel where they did exactly what they said that they shouldn't be doing, but always in the context of—your point—the ends justifying the means.  Sara Arjomand:  So, in 2019, around the time that you started covering open AI, they added OpenAI LP, this “capped profit” arm that, according to a statement by OpenAI, would allow them to rapidly increase their investments in compute and talent. And how would you explain that decision and their motivations for adding this for-profit arm? Karen Hao:  I think one way you could explain it is that, given that Musk and Altman were engaged from the very beginning in an ego driven project, and there was this desire to compete and be the  group that became the greatest influence on AI development, that it was sort of a natural extension of this original goal—that they realized quickly that in order to do that, in order to be number one, they had to take a, what I call an “intellectually cheap approach.” This approach of: “We're just going to take existing techniques from the field, and we're just going to pump a historic amount of data into training these models and use super computers larger than anyone has ever seen before,” rather than doing actual, real fundamental AI research and breakthroughs, which is more difficult to control in terms of a time scale. It's harder for you to guarantee that you will be first when research breakthrough research is—you never know when a breakthrough is going to arrive, but you do  know, if you have a lot of cash and you can build really massive computers, how to pace out your research such that you do end up crossing the finish line first. And so, once they made that decision, then the bottleneck became: how do we get as much cash as possible so that we can build the biggest supercomputer possible? And then, from there, it became obvious that they should create a for-profit entity. Sara Arjomand: So, we've heard a little bit about a few of the imbroglios in which OpenAI has found itself over the years. And there's another one that I'm kind of interested in—this Anthropic split. So, Anthropic was founded in 2021 by seven employees of OpenAI, including their former Vice President of Research. So, how do you think about these other corporations—competitors on the scene like Anthropic? Karen Hao: Yeah, it's all egos that are determining that they  are the ones that should be actually dominating AI development. And essentially, through the course of OpenAI’s history, almost every single senior leader has splintered off to form their own competitors. So, not just Anthropic. Obviously, Musk then left and formed xAI, Mira Murati left and formed Thinking Machines Lab, and Ilya Sutskever left to form Safe Superintelligence.  But I think all of these different people, they basically—there were two things happening. One was that they explicitly were frustrated with Sam Altman, so there were, like, interpersonal clashes, where they didn't like his leadership and felt that he was really, really difficult to work with. And also visionary clashes—they disagreed on some fundamental level about “How, what is the most responsible way to actually develop AI and introduce it into the world?” And so Anthropic, the Anthropic Split was exactly the same thing—where a group within Open AI that was more AI safety-oriented, more existential risk-oriented, just felt that both Sam was untrustworthy and that they would do it better. And so they left to found their own organization.  Sara Arjomand: Right. And so, Open AI and Anthropic—these other corporations—I mean, many of them were essentially founded with this intention, like you say, of preventing dystopia. And of course, you can't look inside the hearts and minds of these individuals, but I mean, what do you suspect that the heads of these companies think they're doing now? Karen Hao: I think they are still engaged in an “ends justifying the means” argument. I don't think that you could successfully run one of these companies long term without having that kind of delusional thinking. Because you can't, you can't wake up every day thinking that you're somehow doing something, like, fundamentally bad for the world. You perpetuate yourself and motivate an organization by creating a coherent logic within your mind about why you are doing the best possible thing with your time and for the world.  And I think they—even though, you know, from an outside observer's perspective, you look at all these companies, and you're like, “All you're doing is just accelerating this race for AI development in extremely dangerous ways,” not in the X-risk type way, but in terms of now: the impacts that we're seeing on mental health, some leading to devastating consequences, environmental consequences, labor consequences.  And yet they still have this steadfast hold on that internal logic of: “But it's all worth it, because we're going to either reach utopia or prevent dystopia in the end.” Sara Arjomand: Can you tell us a little bit more about some of those shorter term consequences? I think a lot of people who are familiar with anti-AI or pessimistic arguments—their head immediately goes to the kind of sci-fi, dystopian, existential risk place. But you're interested in these more environmental consequences, algorithmic bias. Can you tell us about those factors? Karen Hao:  Yeah. So, basically, the core critique that I have with AI development from Silicon Valley is that they take this “scaling at all costs” approach to AI development, where they're just throwing more and more data and building larger and larger supercomputers. And so, if you just look at the consequences that stem from the amount of data that they're consolidating and the level of supercomputers they're building, you already have, you know, a giant list of consequences. At the level of data that they are accruing, they no longer care about data privacy.  They are trying to erode away intellectual property rights and lobby away copyright law. They are trying to—increasingly, we see substantial evidence of these companies following the same path as social media in terms of developing an engagement-centric model of  development, where, because they're running out of internet data to scrape, they are just trying to harvest it from users themselves, by getting the users more and more hooked to these technologies.  You also have less and less of an understanding of what is in your data set when it gets that large. In fact, they have no understanding pretty much anymore of what's in their data. And as a result, you end up with all of these downstream consequences, like the mental health behaviors, where they don't even know how to patch the model, because they don't even know what is leading the model to have sycophantic behaviors or psychologically traumatizing behaviors in the first place.  And then you have labor consequences, where during the development of the AI model, if you're working with very polluted data, then you have to involve content moderators to moderate the model's behaviors, and then they end up with psychological trauma as well—just the way that content moderators in the social media era did. And that was just, like, talking about the scaling harms of scaling data.  And then we talk about scaling compute, or super-computers, and you start getting into environmental harms; acceleration of the climate crisis; acceleration of air pollution because the amount of energy that's being used to power these systems is primarily coming from fossil fuel sources; the acceleration of the clean water crisis around the world, because these systems have to be cooled with fresh water, and there's so many more harms from there, but that's like the most obvious ones, when you just look at, like, the fundamentals of how these systems are developed in the first place. Sara Arjomand: I mean, all of that is incredibly upsetting. How do you think about, kind of, the individual user's role—like, you know, you or me? I mean, is AI something that you use yourself? I'm thinking of products like ChatGPT, Claude… Karen Hao: Yeah. So I don't use any generative AI because of the work that I've done to report on these issues. I just—sometimes I use this analogy that AI is a little bit like transportation. There's lots of different modes of transportation, lots of different AI tools. But generative AI, this type of AI that's emerged from this massive scaling approach, you could say is a little bit like the rocket of transportation. And there are actually very few use cases in which it makes sense to use a rocket to fulfill a transportation need, because there are very few things in the world where the use of the rocket actually gives us more benefit than the cost of developing and deploying the rocket. And I mean cost broadly defined—it's not just the financial, but the environmental and everything. With transportation, I feel like we understand that nuance. But with AI, it seems like we're okay with just giving everyone a rocket to use for everything, and that just doesn't make sense. So I think, from an individual user perspective, the way that I would advocate people to think about their own AI use is: think through what it is that you're doing with these AI tools, and think about the costs of developing those AI tools. Some AI tools actually have very little cost, and at that point you can maybe use them more freely. But with ChatGPT, with Claude, with all these other generative AI tools, the costs are so huge that it does pain me to see how a huge chunk of the use cases is just entertainment. You know—people just generating random photos for fun. Like, generating an image is just so extraordinarily costly. I really wish we could have alternatives to generating those images that aren't so costly, but we don't have them right now. So ask yourself those questions. But I think, more fundamentally, more effective than individual user action is collective action. Thinking about how you can, within your school environment, get together with peers, professors, administrators, to have an actual open debate about what the university's adoption of an AI tool should be. Or maybe within your classroom—what your class’s AI adoption policy should be. That is a form of collective governance that I think is more effective than just asking each individual to think for themselves about how they should use or not use certain AI tools. And beyond the university environment, I think there's plenty of collective action that we're already seeing. Artists and writers are litigating these companies because of the data and intellectual property they've taken. We’re seeing communities that are organizing to protest data center development. These are all different ways that people are contesting how AI has been developed, how it's being deployed, and can actually actively use these different levers to shape the way AI continues to develop and get deployed in the future. Sara Arjomand : If I put you in charge of the world, what changes would you put into effect at the level of corporations, or maybe at the level of the federal government with regard to AI? I mean, would you snap your fingers and pop OpenAI out of existence? Karen Hao: Am I allowed to rewind time? Sara Arjomand: In the hypothetical, yes. Karen Hao: I think I would rewind the clock back to maybe early social media years and create strong data privacy laws. Create more publicly funded research on the limitations and the potential of digital technologies like social media. I would create more transparency laws—transparency at all levels. Transparency of the amount of data that companies are collecting, the environmental costs of their infrastructure—and put all of that in place pre-generative AI boom. And I think we would have just a fundamentally different trajectory for AI as well, because the AI industry could have only manifested the way that it did on the backs of sloppy legislation and regulation. That kind of just allowed these companies to do whatever they wanted during the social media era—accumulate the data that was necessary for training these models in the first place, and start learning how to build supercomputers at the scale that they needed to in the first place. Yeah. So I think that's what I would do—just reset the clock a little bit. Sara Arjomand: And if you couldn't reset the clock? If we're just kind of, you know, it's today, September 8, 2025? Karen Hao: Yeah. I mean, at that point, I would still do, kind of, a lot of the same things. But of course, we are in a tougher position. I still think it is very possible to figure out how to contain the harms of this technology.  But yeah, increasing transparency is a really huge one—just understanding what these companies are feeding into their models, what they're using, what kind of research they're actually doing, and what research they might be censoring internally and not allowing the public to see. I would make sure that copyright law interpretation falls on the side of creators. I would strengthen labor laws to make sure that there is a basis for collective action to continue, especially in the context of economic opportunity—like having people be able to bargain for their rights without worry of being laid off. Having the ability to maybe even bargain for the longevity of their job in certain ways, and bargain against AI being used to automate certain aspects of their jobs. And yeah, also vast public funding into AI research and other forms of research outside of the corporations. Sara Arjomand:  Awesome. Thank you so much, and thank you so much for speaking with me. Karen Hao:  Yeah, thank you so much for having me.

Corey Brettschneider is a Professor at Brown University, where he teaches constitutional law and politics. Professor Brettschneider sits down with Greta Long ’28 and Shiv Parihar ’28 to discuss the threat of authoritarianism and the powers of the American presidency.  This interview transcript has been edited for length and clarity.  Greta Long:  So I can start us off. Thank you so much for your talk at the Ath today. That was really awesome — to hear about the ways that we can be motivated as students and as people of this country in order to help prevent tyrannical presidencies. I want to start us off with: how do you believe that the way the presidency was set up puts the office on a path to abuse? Corey Brettschneider: I would say not an inevitable path, but that I’m with Patrick Henry to some degree. And I’ll just remind listeners, for those people who were not at the talk, what he said. Patrick Henry, the revolutionary hero, is famous for the saying, “Give me liberty, or give me death.” What I’m interested in is his opposition to the ratification of the Constitution. The reason Henry gives for opposing ratification is that he thinks there’s one huge flaw in it: the danger and power of the U.S. presidency. I think his point is, look, if George Washington is the president of the United States— a person of virtue — you don’t have to worry. But what if you have a bad person in power? What if you have a criminal president? His idea is that a criminal president will use supposedly benign powers, like the pardon power, to pardon co-conspirators. And as he or she starts to commit crimes, that person will realize, “Wow, these checks don’t work.” So what’s going to stop the president? The court? Well, what if the court is sympathetic to the president and is put there by that president? What about impeachment? What if the president’s own party is in Congress? Impeachment might not work, by the way, as you need two-thirds in the Senate to convict. And so he uses this phrase: “Who will stop this force?” And then at another point he says that this person [the president] won’t hesitate to crown himself a monarch. In other words, the position is so powerful that if you get a bad or even criminal president, they’ll collapse it. Henry’s saying it’s inevitable. He said, “Don’t ratify it [the Constitution].” And I think that’s wrong. Now, why? One thing is that you can have decent people in power. But even if you have a president who threatens democracy — something approximating what Henry is saying — we’ve had citizens who have pushed back in the past, reclaiming the democratic Constitution. And that’s the check that’s worked before. So even though there’s a danger that Henry might be right, we have ways of responding. Shiv Parihar: So on that note, you cast the body politic as the ultimate check on presidential power — not the Supreme Court, which, as you point out, has been complicit in past abuses of power. So why do you make this choice, and how do you see this dynamic being relevant today? Corey Brettschneider: Well, I think part of it is just the history. When you look at cases, the Supreme Court has often been not just part of the problem, but a big part. Take the Sedition Act. Samuel Chase lobbies for the Sedition Act. He sits on the trial — Supreme Court Justice Samuel Chase. He sits on the trial of Thomas Cooper, essentially for criticizing Adams. He actually says—ensures—as Supreme Court Justice sitting on the trial, that Cooper can’t even raise issues of free speech. So the idea that you’re going to get the Supreme Court acting as it would in a case like the Sedition Act— just striking it down and indicating the right to free speech in the civics kind of way — there’s no way that’s going to happen. Take the second crisis I talked about: Dred Scott. That’s partly the result of Buchanan lobbying the court secretly to decide Dred Scott in the most evil way possible, which they do — denying Black Americans any rights under the Constitution. But it’s also the Supreme Court that does it. So the court, at these worst moments, far from saving us in the way judicial review is supposed to operate — the court as a check on a dangerous president — has been part of the problem. Now, how about in cases where the court did seem to do something great? One of the most famous examples is U.S. v. Nixon, saying that Nixon has to hand over tapes showing his crimes, essentially. And that is a unanimous decision, 8–0 (Rehnquist recuses himself). And it’s often cited for the idea that the president is not above the law. But when you really look at that, especially in the current moment, the way Kavanaugh described it at one point is: you know, it’s really a case about a president having to answer a criminal subpoena. You can narrow it so much that it leaves room for the idea that a president really is above the law. Unfortunately, that’s what the court has done in [United States v. Trump], in my opinion. They put a president above the law. It’s not that they reversed U.S. v. Nixon, but they did it [United States v. Trump] consistent with it by narrowing it [United States v. Nixon]. And, you know, I think the court might push back against some of the abuses going on now — like in birthright citizenship — but there will be a lot of other instances in which it upholds and enables Trump’s assault on democracy. Shiv Parihar:  Do you think his willingness to go along with the Sedition Acts was part of why Samuel Chase was impeached a few years later? Corey Brettschneider: Oh, yeah, definitely. He’s so partisan, so extreme. And there are more specific things that he does too — manipulating grand juries. That impeachment was a pushback against him, and I think an important one. He’s not removed, but he’s impeached, and it limits some of the partisanship Chase had shown. But it doesn’t end the role of courts in enabling authoritarian abuses of power — you know, Dred Scott forces that exhibit… Greta Long: Would you like to see Congress being more willing to use the impeachment power on the courts?  Corey Brettschneider: I do think the impeachment of Samuel Chase was probably justifiable. I think it was, actually. But there’s a danger in that too. And you’re seeing that right now: when Trump doesn’t like a decision, he sort of threatens impeachment. If it becomes a mechanism for just undermining judges, that will stop the president and have the opposite effect of what we’re talking about…I’d be a little leery of that. Greta Long: So, speaking about recent events, can you talk a little bit about the development of presidential authority in recent years? Corey Brettschneider: I think there isn’t a clear development, but after Nixon I think there was an important moment of pushback against presidential power. We have a series of laws that were an attempt at the kind of recovery I’m talking about. One is the Ethics in Government Act. It created an independent counsel who has the ability to pursue criminal investigations of the president’s close advisors — and even the president — without being fired for political reasons. You have to show cause. In fact, that office wrote a memo saying that a sitting president could be indicted. So what happened to it? Even though there were reforms like that — or I’ll mention another one, the National Emergencies Act, which gave two houses of Congress the ability, by majority vote, to stop a presidential emergency; or the War Powers Act, which tried to restore Congress’s war-making power — after Nixon, there was this sort of attempted recovery in the 1970s. The independent counsel, for instance, lasted until the Clinton era.  But the recovery really failed, because almost all these reforms were eventually wiped away. And the independent counsel, for instance—when Ken Starr went after Bill Clinton, Clinton went from being a supporter of it to opposing it. The Emergencies Act, under a complicated case, the Congress decides it needs to change it. Instead of a majority in both houses, you needed two-thirds of each to undo an emergency. Or you needed a majority with the president to agree — but if the president disagrees, you needed an override vote. So the development has been jagged. We see abuses of power — Nixon’s presidency’s gotten too strong — and then we see a reaction. But that reaction is undermined. So part of what I’m trying to do is say, look: we’ve had these fits and starts of trying to recover from an unchecked president. We just haven’t completed that by any means. We need to continue that work. People like Daniel Ellsberg, who I interviewed for the book [ The Oath and The Office ], were champions of this kind of reform. We can use their example in the way we use these other examples to inspire us. Greta Long: Awesome. And then how should the office’s constitutional character influence voters’ decisions? What should they be looking out for — whether it be green or red flags? Corey Brettschneider: Well, I think a president who, as Trump said around 2016, says, “I have an Article II. I can do anything I want” — that’s the red flag. That’s the ultimate red flag. Somebody who tries to claim authoritarian, absolute power under our Constitution—we should know that’s not what [Article II of the Constitution] means. In fact, with The Oath and The Office  [the podcast]— as I mentioned during the lecture, and I’ll say to anyone listening—I’ve decided this question is so important that every week, with comedian John Fugelsang, I make it palatable and funny but also deeply analytic and honest. It started as a discussion of my book by the same name, but now the podcast takes your “green flag/red flag” framework and looks every week at what’s happening. Why call it The Oath and the Office ? Because far from giving a president unlimited power, when you actually look at Article II of the Constitution, which creates the presidency, it also limits [the presidency]. It requires the president, in the first few seconds in office, to pledge to “preserve, protect, and defend the Constitution.” They actually have to say those words. That symbolizes the idea that the president will be constrained by the law. So a good green flag is the idea of recognizing constraints. The red flag is thinking the power is unlimited. Shiv Parihar: I’m a big fan of President Lincoln — he’s even my phone case. But I know lots of critics would point to Lincoln’s suspension of habeas corpus and his prosecution of suspected Confederate sympathizers in the North as being a historic abuse of power. What’s your response to that, and why doesn’t Lincoln fit into your “crisis president” model? Corey Brettschneider: Well, he’s sort of an in-between recovery…but he certainly isn’t a full recovery president. But he’s not a crisis president either. I’m sympathetic to Frederick Douglass, as you know. The way he sees the issue is pivotal to the development of American democracy. Douglass’s view, as I understand it, is: look, in any normal instance this would never be justified. But really the fate of America is at stake. In order to not just save the Union but re-craft America with a new founding based on equality, it might be necessary to suspend the illegitimate old Constitution — an authoritarian Constitution, a white supremacist Constitution — in order to rebirth it. For him, Lincoln’s suspension of habeas corpus on its own isn’t justified unless it’s in service of this new Constitution. That’s what I argue in the book: he really does convince Lincoln that the moral purpose of the war has to be the ending of slavery.  It wasn’t at the beginning. So I don’t think there’s a lot of justification for what Lincoln was doing until he sees it as a crusade to really re-found America. When he gives that amazing address at Gettysburg, what he’s really saying is, “This is an American tragedy.” The suspension of habeas is part of it—arguably that’s illegal under the 18th-century Constitution. But he’s also re-founding a Constitution that, for the first time, honors the promise of the Declaration: a government of, by, and for the people. And that isn’t the 18th-century Constitution—that’s the one being born between the partnership of Douglass and Lincoln, instead. It was an unprecedented time in which America faced the crisis of whether it would become a legitimate democracy. It had not been a democracy before.  The suspension, if it’s justified, is justified only in that [moment]. It’s a one-time founding moment, not one that I think can be repeated. So when Lincoln is cited by Nixon, for instance, it’s dangerous. It can be abused by any president who just wants to do their own bidding. But [Lincoln] was in a sui generis moment in American history. Shiv Parihar: Could you maybe elaborate a bit more? Because, for instance, President Wilson would have said he was on a crusade to reshape the Union for progressivism and “make the world safe for democracy.” President Trump might say he’s on a crusade to do whatever he’s trying to do. Where do you draw the line? Corey Brettschneider: Once you set that precedent, possibly some of the things he’s trying to do could be excused. But I think there were two things that defined [Lincoln’s moment]. One is that the courts were not really able to function. America was in the midst of a horrible, bloody war. There wasn’t a government in the stable sense. That isn’t true in the other instances. The stability of the country wasn’t threatened.  The second thing is that America, before that moment, wasn’t a legitimate democracy. It had elements of one, it would grow into one — the right to dissent, elections — but when you deny rights to a significant portion of the population, that’s less than democracy. So it was a kind of refounding of America. Its uniqueness, I think, is what might justify [those actions]. Now, there are different ways to see it. I don’t want to say it was justified necessarily. Maybe it was an unjustified necessity in the moment of a bloody foundation. Killing people in war — was that justified? It’s hard to think of it that way. It was a tragedy. So I see the suspension of habeas as a tragic moment in the founding of democracy. Shiv Parihar:  If I can slightly push one more question in there: when it comes to America being redefined in the 1860s as a democracy, do you think the lack of women’s right to vote for another 60 years set that even later? Corey Brettschneider:  Yeah, I think that’s a good argument. I mean, Douglass — I don’t think of him as convincing Lincoln and then America instantly becomes a democracy. But the principles, at least, are embedded. One of the amazing things about Douglass is that he’s a champion of universal rights, regardless of race and gender. Now, he doesn’t succeed in 1868, and in the Grant presidency, in getting full realization. But the reason I think it still makes sense to see America as at least moving toward democracy is: part of [Douglass’s] point about voting rights is that it isn’t just a moral principle. Part of what’s undermining American democracy is the mass murder of Black Americans. And so some Black women, allies of Douglass, made the decision to put voting rights of Black men before voting rights of women. At least it was a way to get some protection from mass violence. So this isn’t just some abstract claim that America wasn’t a democracy, it isn’t just the denial of rights. It’s also about the mass slaughter of Black Americans trying to live their lives. The voting rights struggle is pivotal — not just because of the Fifteenth Amendment, but because of its second section, which enabled the Enforcement Acts and the prosecution of more than a thousand white terrorists throughout the United States. That was an indication of the right to exist in a way America had never indicated before. Greta Long: If we switch gears a little bit and talk more about citizens’ roles in adhering to the Constitution and holding presidential power accountable — in terms of civic education, what should we be teaching or emphasizing that we’re currently not? Or at least what should be promoted more? Corey Brettschneider: We should be talking about the Constitution — and a lot of people don’t know the basics. (Yes, there are three branches of government). But there’s a way of doing civic education that I’m opposed to, and that’s the way that underemphasizes the fragility of our democracy and the importance of citizens. Sometimes you hear, “There are three branches, checks and balances, one checks the other.” To some extent that’s the view in the Federalist Papers. But I think we have to be more honest about what the Anti-Federalists like Patrick Henry identified: often they don’t work. There’s a continual danger in American democracy of authoritarian threats by the presidency itself. So this kind of civic education should tell the story of how the checks failed — but how citizens didn’t fail. It’s a sort of undoing of what I call a naïve understanding of checks and balances, and a turn toward recognizing the honest role that democracy has to play in the system. Greta Long:  Are there any specific books on history or politics that you think are especially key for students to be looking into as they prepare themselves for this duty? Corey Brettschneider: Well, obviously the main book I’m going to recommend is called  The Presidents and the People: Five Leaders Who Threatened Democracy and the Citizens Who Fought to Defend It . I think it’s a unique book that recasts American history in a different way. There just isn’t another book like it — one that retells American history not as a story of steady progress, but of threat and recovery, and that points to the role of citizens in carving out the philosophy of American democracy and constitutionalism. So rather than listing a bunch of other books that do a similar thing — because that just doesn’t exist — I’d suggest looking directly at the citizens themselves. Read Frederick Douglass. Read William Monroe Trotter. Read about Ellsberg — and I’ve been disappointed to learn how little people know about him in this generation. So that’s what I’d say: my book isn’t just a book to be read, but one that points the way through the footnotes to original sources. I’ll also mention some of my colleagues who’ve done a great job of expanding the American canon of political theory and constitutional law. Not just Douglass, but figures like David Walker. One book I’ll highlight is by my colleague Melvin Rogers… Shiv Parihar:  He visited the Salvatori last semester. Greta Long: He did. Corey Brettschneider: Oh. So you know his book The Darkened Light of Faith . And you know, I learned a lot from that book about how to read these figures. And I think Melvin would say too: read these sources for yourself. Of course there are a lot of other books. I’m just promoting my colleagues now. But I just went to an amazing conference on the work of my colleague Gordon Wood and his book The Creation of the American Republic . It’s so important for understanding our history — but read it as a counter to what I’m saying. He really celebrates Adams, celebrating people who I think we should regard as a risk. Rather than just trusting me, see how the debate exists about American history. Shiv Parihar: You mentioned Gordon Wood’s sort of hagiography of Adams. And David McCullough’s biography of John Adams is one of the most popular biographies. Corey Brettschneider: Yes. Wood is more subtle, because he does talk about Adams as a monarchist, even though he’s ultimately sympathetic. Greta Long: And there was the HBO miniseries. So Adams got a lot of traction in pop culture, though maybe less than Hamilton. What’s been your reaction to that? Corey Brettschneider: You see yourself sort of holding back a tide here. There’s also another book called Making the Presidency  by [Lindsay Chervinsky], the head of Mount Vernon. That’s new. I’d say she’s honest about Adams’s flaws, but ultimately it’s a defense. If you want to listen to another podcast, you can listen to us debate about Adams on a great podcast called Strict Scrutiny . One of the problems, I think, is hiding the extent of the Sedition Act. Or maybe “hiding” isn’t the right word — people just weren’t aware. They thought the [number of] prosecutions [was] in the twenties. It turns out there were 126. It’s also about what you emphasize. For me, the right to dissent — to criticize the president — is as important as voting. A lot of those figures didn’t quite see the importance of free speech in that sense. Now, the miniseries starred Paul Giamatti. I was doing another podcast with Preet Bharara, live at the New-York Historical Society in front of about 350 people. He said something very nice about Paul Giamatti. I reminded him that Paul Giamatti also plays [a character] in Billions . But that’s part of it: when you have an actor that great, he makes people enamored. I obviously see Adams in a different way. Shiv Parihar: Similarly, there’s been kind of a renaissance — particularly on the new right — of Nixon “apology.” Greta was at the Nixon Library last week. Greta Long: I was. I went to the Nixon Library. It was very interesting. I just went for fun — for the museum. Shiv Parihar: I went there a couple months ago. So what’s your response to the new tide of Nixon defense in parts of the public? Corey Brettschneider: Part of what I’m trying to argue is that the unfortunate revival of Nixon is possible because the pardon wiped away so many of the investigations that were going on. Watergate was such a small part of his — as I call it — criminal presidency. For instance, I’ll give one story, because you heard it [earlier]. Listeners can just Google it. Nixon was so focused on Ellsberg — who he called the “main ball.” He said, for instance, “We need our own Ellsberg.” Many of his crimes centered around Ellsberg. Some are well known: the HBO show The Plumbers , for example, centered on the break-in at Ellsberg’s psychiatrist’s office, for instance. But here’s another one. Nixon believed that, in addition to the Pentagon Papers (which didn’t implicate Nixon, since they ended with Johnson), Ellsberg had a second set of papers. Nixon mistakenly thought they were being kept in a safe at the Brookings Institution. Nixon thought those papers showed he had negotiated illegally with the Viet Cong, to postpone the war so that they’d get a better deal with him than with Johnson. That would make him look good. Obviously, he didn’t want that to come out. So he thought the Brookings safe had it. He says this on tape. He’s telling Henry Kissinger about it. Kissinger says, “Well, Mr. President, if they have that, we should go through the legal process and the courts. They shouldn’t have that material. We can get it from them.” And Nixon says, “No, Henry. I want it done” — and this is a quote — “on a thievery basis. On a thievery basis.” The President of the United States. It’s because he believed, mistakenly citing Lincoln, that he could commit crimes, given that America was in a civil war with student protesters. This isn’t hypothetical. You can hear him say that. What kind of criminality was going on? Well, we know about other instances: an attempt to incapacitate or even kill Daniel Ellsberg on the Capitol steps; the possible ordering of the “hard hat riot” in New York against protesters. The Plumbers unit was really formed to shut down dissent. Watergate is just such a small piece of that. And the pardon wiped it all away. Why don’t we know all these stories? Because in an attempt to move the country forward — maybe a good faith attempt, maybe out of sympathy for Nixon and his family — Ford enacted the pardon. The real heroes of the moment would have been the grand jurors, who voted in a straw poll to indict Nixon, and who, after he resigned, tried to make good on that. Vladimir Pregel, the foreman, tried to make good on that promise. But the pardon wiped it all away. So I think that’s what made the Nixon revival possible: people just don’t know the extent of his crimes. If they did, I think they’d be much less sympathetic. Now, there might be a small number who think, “Maybe it was right that a president can commit crimes with impunity.” I think that’s the minority. And people who hold that view — I find that very frightening, of course. Shiv Parihar:  So do you think the constitutional crisis that you identify right now essentially began with the Watergate pardon? Corey Brettschneider: Yes. That’s a good way to put it. I think it cleared the way to the immunity decision, because we never really saw the danger of a president above the law. If we’d had a trial for Nixon — normal legal processes carried out — it would have seemed more like a check on the most dangerous office, not only in the country but in the world. But the pardon cut off that possibility. There were so many investigations, as I talk about in the book, ongoing. Nick Ackerman and Philip Lacovara—both living prosecutors who were involved in all of this. You know, it gave me a lot of information and documents that I was able to find, some of it through FOIA requests. Groups like Lawfare have exposed it. There was a lot of crime. And the fact that the American people never really saw it makes things like the immunity decision possible. I just think the Supreme Court has made a lawless decision. It’s not grounded in the text. It’s not grounded in principle. And they have unwittingly enabled a criminal president exactly the way Patrick Henry warned. Greta Long: Claremont McKenna College recently updated its mission to include preparing students for responsible leadership. What are some key ways you think the school itself can prepare students to create informed citizens and voters who will challenge authoritarian leadership? Corey Brettschneider: Great question. And, you know, maybe there are people out there who would answer by thinking, “Oh, I’m at CMC. I don’t want to call out the leadership. I’ll just be nice to my hosts.” I’m just not that kind of person. So I’ll be direct. There are universities that are going along with Trump’s demand to hand over control of the university — to give up on things like academic freedom — in the mistaken idea that you can negotiate with this wannabe authoritarian. Columbia University in particular has been among the worst offenders there. But then there are models on the other side — universities that have been robust in saying, look: the university is defined by academic freedom. If we give up on that because we want to negotiate, we’re not really a university anymore. One of the best leaders has been the constitutional lawyer and president of Princeton University, Chris Eisgruber. I’d urge leaders at all universities and colleges, including CMC, to read Eisgruber’s statements in The Atlantic . Increasingly, Harvard is joining him. The pushback has to be direct and robust. We’ve seen law firms cave — firms like Skadden, which have given up on the law, becoming essentially dictate-enforcement firms rather than law firms. And we’ve seen others really stand up for the rule of law and their integrity. So it’s really clear: you cannot allow this administration to use the threat of illegally revoking federal funds, citing the 1964 Civil Rights Act, in a misguided effort to destroy academic freedom. Shiv Parihar: So on that note, when we chatted earlier, I brought up how in 1868, when Andrew Johnson was impeached, one of the impeachment managers — Benjamin Butler — later wrote that he wished the impeachment had been more specific to Johnson’s actions undermining Reconstruction. You write about this in your book, citing Blackstone’s Commentaries and English common law to argue that “high crimes and misdemeanors” can be much broader than most Americans think. Could you elaborate? Corey Brettschneider: In the book, The Oath and the Office  — and on the podcast — we focus a lot on impeachment. There’s a fundamental misunderstanding, and I get why. It’s a kind of linguistic misunderstanding of what impeachment is supposed to be for. It comes from the idea that an impeachable offense is a, quote, “high crime or misdemeanor.” You can see why people would think it means you need an actual crime, and that the trial is just to lay it out. The impeachment process involves a majority vote in the House, and then a trial in the Senate with two-thirds needed to convict. Using that language, it’s natural to think it’s a trial for criminal violation. The Johnson trial was very legalistic. They focused almost entirely on his supposed violation of the Tenure of Office Act — firing the Secretary of War. I think that was an attempt to make it look like a legal proceeding. The same limits [showed up] in Trump’s first impeachment on the quid pro quo—likewise, very legalistic. But here’s the thing: there is no part of criminal law called “high crimes and misdemeanors.” That’s not a thing. It’s meant, instead, to stand for the idea of demeaning the office or abusing power. That’s true in British impeachment too — it’s not of the king, but of the king’s advisers. Going forward, if there’s another impeachment (obviously not with this House, but if Democrats regain control), I’d hope they go broad: think about abuse of power, not just violations of the law. Shiv Parihar: You mentioned Harry Truman — a moderate, but still a southerner, with a fondness for slurs—who’d been deeply embedded in the machines of southern politics. Yet he ended up bringing civil rights out of the political wilderness that it’d been in for a half century. A very unlikely candidate to do so. Where are some other unlikely places you think we might look today for help in protecting our democracy? Corey Brettschneider: The Truman example — I’m so glad you brought that up. In the book I talk about the crisis of Wilson. He wasn’t the first white supremacist president, but he was the first white nationalist president. The civil rights movement had a long march, waiting for a president to truly champion them. I argue, controversially, that FDR was that figure. But Truman — chosen to replace Wallace on FDR’s ticket in order to reassure racist southern Democrats; family members said he used the N-word—he was an unlikely hero in this moment. And yet the NAACP goes to him with stories of soldiers returning home from the war, beaten nearly to death. And he does open, he does change into the most unlikely of heroes. So what does that show? For one thing, the question of whether or not you’re going to be a “recovery president” isn’t necessarily just a rationalistic one. You want a president who is open to empathy. Obama was criticized for talking about empathy as a value and in choosing Supreme Court justices. But I think that the Truman example shows that part of what you want in a president isn’t just somebody with a concern for protecting democracy and the Constitution, but that they have a certain kind of disposition. I don’t know that we could have spotted it in advance, but he shows how important that quality is. Shiv and Greta:  Thank you so much. Thank you. Shiv Parihar: It was nice to meet you. Corey Brettschneider: And can I plug my podcast? Greta Long:  Yes, of course. Corey Brettschneider: The Oath and the Office . Please listen every week if you’re interested in these issues. It’s a podcast with me and, as he puts it, a deeply unqualified comedian, John Fugelsang. We talk about constitutional law, history, and the crisis of democracy each week. You can find it wherever you get your podcasts. Greta Long: Awesome. Shiv and Greta: Thank you so much.

Claremont McKenna secures the top spot, and Pomona falls among the nation’s worst.   Credit: Wikipedia Claremont McKenna College claimed first place in the Foundation for Individual Rights and Expression’s 2026 Free Speech Rankings  on Tuesday, while Pomona College clocked in at 247th of 257 colleges. The other Claremont Colleges’ placements spanned between the two, with all but CMC earning an “F” grade. The Foundation for Individual Rights and Expression (FIRE), a premier First Amendment watchdog group, analyzed the climates of public and private colleges nationwide.  FIRE’s ranking is based upon their speech code ratings of “Red,” “Yellow,” and “Green” for each school’s policies, indicating the degree to which each policy promotes expression through clarity, content neutrality, and other measures. Survey data is also obtained in partnership with College Pulse—a community-based survey platform—to accompany the speech code ratings in the ranking process. For the 2026 report, 68,000 students were surveyed from January 3 through June 5, 2025. Here’s how the Claremont Colleges fared:  #1: Claremont McKenna College Speech Code Rating: Green Light Overall Score: 79.9 (B-) 125 students surveyed #193: Harvey Mudd College Speech Code Rating: Yellow Light Overall Score: 54.6 (F) 95 students surveyed #209: Scripps College Speech Code Rating: Yellow Light Overall Score: 53.4 (F) 133 students surveyed #218: Pitzer College Speech Code Rating: Yellow Light Overall Score: 52.1 (F) 155 students surveyed #247: Pomona College Speech Code Rating: Yellow Light Overall Score: 49.1 (F) 144 students surveyed CMC’s grade of 79.86 is the highest score of any of the colleges rated by FIRE. “This, combined with their performance on most of the survey components, deserves recognition,” says the report. Additionally, CMC’s “Administrative Support” score came in second nationwide, with a majority of CMC students agreeing that their administration places a high emphasis on protecting expression.  CMC has not placed first since FIRE’s 2021 ranking . After landing 73rd  in the 2024 report  following accusations  of professors’ classroom speech being punished, CMC climbed to sixth place  in the 2025 ranking .  According to FIRE’s featured section on CMC, the college now ranks in the top ten in self-survey components for “Comfort Expressing Ideas,” “Openness,” and “Self-Censorship,” among others. However, CMC’s score only rounds up to a “B-” letter grade.  166 of the 257 schools surveyed received an “F”  for their speech climate, and only 11 schools received a speech climate grade of “C” or higher. This year’s findings also noted that, nationally, 71% of students believe that it is acceptable to shout down a speaker and 53% believe the Israeli-Palestinian conflict is too sensitive for open discussion.   FIRE’s researchers reminded their audience that “topping an underwhelming list isn’t exactly an overwhelming achievement” and suggested that CMC improve from 39th place on the “Disruptive Conduct” score—a metric determined by examining students’ opinions about the acceptability of protest strategies like shouting down a speaker, blocking entry, or using violence.  Pomona dropped from its highest position of 242nd place in the 2025 report to 247th in 2026. The campus is now ranked as the eleventh worst speech climate in the nation, with 41% of Pomona students surveyed agreeing that “using violence to stop someone from speaking on campus is acceptable, at least in rare cases.” Pomona also received an “F” grade in the categories of “Political Tolerance” and “Administrative Support.” On the policy front, CMC earns a Green Light, particularly for its adoption of the Chicago Principles and commitment to institutional neutrality as far back as 2018. These are stances that the other Claremont Colleges have not yet taken.  All of the colleges’ individual policies must align with the consortium-wide rules, such as the “ Claremont Colleges Policy on Demonstrations ” (which receives FIRE’s Green Light) and the “ Policy on Title IX Sexual Harassment ” (perhaps mistakenly listed as both  a Yellow Light and Green Light).  However, each school’s individual specifications and addendums to consortium policies may have led to the stark disparities; for instance, Scripps’s “ Principles of Community ” and Mudd’s “ Student Rights & Responsibilities ” receive a Green Light for affirming free expression while the “ Pomona College Speech Code ” receives a Yellow Light.  There may also be significant oversights in FIRE’s 5C rankings. For instance, Scripps is said to have experienced “0 controversies” in 2025, which neglects prolonged debate and controversy over the Motley’s closure  in October 2024. Pomona is also said to have had “0 controversies,” despite the occupation  of Carnegie Hall , also in October 2024. These incidents, if considered, could have dropped the colleges’ points in FIRE’s subcriteria.   Moreover, CMC is said to have “deplatformed” commencement speaker Salman Rushdie  as its singular controversy, when the motivation behind Rushdie’s withdrawal remains unknown. These discrepancies may suggest that FIRE strongly weighs subjective student experience, or at the very least, receives much of its information from the FIRE-College Pulse surveys.  Despite criticisms  of FIRE’s methodology, the organization’s broad reach and coverage have been celebrated for providing insights upon which to build better speech climates at American colleges. This article was published in conjunction with the Claremont Independent .

Trump’s child trust funds could reduce wealth inequality while promoting economic mobility and positive parenting. Liberals and conservatives alike should applaud it. Mother lies with her newborn baby. (Credit: Jane Fader ) Albert Einstein  purportedly once declared that compound interest was the Eighth Wonder of the World: “He who understands it, earns it; he who doesn't, pays it.” Whether he really did or did not say those words, the wisdom is there. For those with the savings and know-how, stock and bond investing allows for better preparation for retirement, home purchase, or their child’s college education. Given compound interest and a long enough time horizon, investors can expect to receive several times their initial investment. However, Einstein’s quote identifies a key dilemma: wealth begets wealth, and those who start without it are left exponentially further behind. In America, the problem  is especially acute. The top 1% has done spectacularly; they alone hold 30.8% of household wealth. The upper middle class has benefited significantly, too. The entire bottom half, meanwhile, possesses a mere 2.5% of household wealth. Author’s representation of wealth inequality. Source: Federal Reserv e There is a wide wealth gap by race , too: a typical white family has six times the wealth of the average Black or Hispanic family. Of course, none of this should surprise us. Families living paycheck-to-paycheck generally don’t have funds to invest. Black and Hispanic Americans have historically had their wealth seized  and been restricted  from wealth-building opportunities. There is one addition  to the “Big Beautiful” budget bill that could actually alleviate this wealth inequality: baby bonds, or as the bill dubs them, “Trump Accounts.” Under this proposal, every child born between 2025 and 2028 would receive a $1000 government-funded trust at birth, which would be invested in a diversified index of US stocks. The funds couldn’t be withdrawn until age 18, at which point up to half of the balance could be used (minus capital gains taxes) on “qualified” purchases like education, small business expenses, or home purchases. By age 25, the full amount could be spent on qualified expenses, and at 31, there would be no withdrawal restrictions. There are three reasons why these “Trump Accounts” are a smart idea. First, because they are invested at birth by default, the accounts will eventually be worth far more than their initial investment. The Milken Institute  projects that by age 20, children will likely have $8300 in their account. Or, if they choose to rollover the funds to a retirement investment account, they could have $574,000 by age 60. Although there are certainly benefits to immediate poverty alleviation, baby bonds will provide much more assistance in adulthood than one-time cash transfers. Second, empirical research suggests that baby bonds improve wellbeing and stability for low-income families. A pilot  of child development accounts in Oklahoma found that, when similar baby bonds were promised to the children of low-income parents, maternal depressive symptoms decreased and parenting practices became less punitive. Parents also expressed higher hopes for their kids’ educational future, understanding that the funds would be available by the time their kids reached college age—a unique advantage of baby bonds relative to other assistance programs. Third, these investment accounts will bolster economic mobility. Baby bonds were first proposed in the 2010s as a solution  to racial wealth inequality. Simulation methods  have found that baby bonds would increase college attendance and homeownership among minority groups. For someone born into a low-wealth family, receiving thousands of dollars in their 20s can make the difference for affording a degree or vocational training, putting a down payment on a first home, or creating a retirement nest egg. Now, there are plenty of valid criticisms of the plan. First, as an invested asset, Trump Accounts will lose value during a stock market downturn. Second, social policy experts are concerned  that banks will find these trusts’ small balances unappealing to manage. Third, the program may disproportionately benefit the wealthy , since it would allow those families to contribute up to an additional $5000 annually. Finally, the plan also adds $3.6 billion per year  in government spending to a bill that will already expand the deficit . On balance, though, I think the benefits outweigh the drawbacks. While market downturns occur, long-term investment remains among the surest ways to build sustainable wealth. Nor would banks’ willingness to participate be an obstacle; most investment accounts today allow small-dollar holdings, similar to what Trump proposes. Although I’d prefer baby bonds to be means-tested—providing more money to poorer people—offering equal funds to everyone is a reasonable compromise to get bipartisan support. Besides, the fact that rich families will benefit from extra contributions to Trump Accounts isn’t unique: those families are investing more to begin with. And a few billion dollars per year is a very small cost for the potential to give every child access to wealth mobility. Now, in case the title didn’t make it clear, let me emphasize that I am not  a fan of the current budget bill overall , as it would worsen inequality  and reduce economic dynamism. Projected SNAP cuts  would cause over two million American children to lose food assistance. Changes to Medicaid  would leave at least seven million people uninsured, largely due to onerous work requirements which might disqualify even working adults. Rollbacks  of clean energy incentives and an effective block  of state regulation of AI would worsen the threats of climate change and automation. This is all being done alongside an extension of tax cuts that primarily benefit the wealthiest corporations  and individuals . It is not easy to look at a bill that is 90% bad for disadvantaged Americans and praise the 10% that is good. But if we want to be honest brokers for positive change – and I certainly do – then we have to call a smart move when we see one. While Trump Accounts aren't the perfect solution, I am hopeful that they will expand access to the “Eighth Wonder” of compound interest investing to Americans who can’t afford to participate now.

Meet the five staff members of The Forum . Name: Sara Arjomand Role: Editor-in-Chief Hometown:  Los Angeles, California Major:  Philosophy Class:  2026 From Sara:  I'm thrilled to direct The Forum  this year. I've written personal essays and social commentary for the paper for the past two years. This year, I look forward to inaugurating The Forum 's official debate series, keeping my ear to the ground re: 5C happenings, and writing about campus and popular culture. Name: Violet Ramanathan Role: Editor Hometown:  Wayland, Massachusetts Major: Philosophy, Politics, & Economics and Government Class:  2027 From Violet: I am honored to be an editor at The Forum this year. I look forward to working with a strong editorial team to expand The Forum while maintaining our core values of open discourse and thoughtful journalism. Outside of my writing, I enjoy hanging out with friends, reading, hiking, and snowboarding. Name: Enya Kamadolli Role: Editor Hometown:  Newton, Massachusetts Major:  Philosophy, Politics, & Economics Class:  2026 From Enya:   I’m super excited to be one of The Forum ’s editors this year! I hope that this year brings even more intellectual rigor, productive debate, and argumentative nuance as the Editorial team further explores The Forum ’s identity within the 5C ecosystem and beyond. I’m looking forward to writing some of The Forum ’s first articles with a more creative writing tilt, publishing even more dueling articles, and hopefully reading some phenomenal social commentary pieces! Name: Dhriti Jagadish Role: Editor Hometown:  Rocklin, California Major:  Government Class:  2027 From Dhriti:   As an editor of The Forum , I'm thankful to be helping sustain such an open and thoughtful medium! This year, I plan to write about issues in free speech, higher education, and identity politics. I'm especially looking forward to generating more debate among student authors as they tackle contentious campus matters in their pieces. Name: Shiv Parihar Role: Staff Writer Hometown:  Salt Lake City, Utah Major:  Government Class:  2028 From Shiv: I am honored to be a staff writer at The Forum this year! Last year, I contributed pieces on campus events, history, and America's place in the world. This year, I anticipate bringing a written voice to campus connecting events and ideas from past and present. In particular, I am excited to release dueling columns to present different sides of an issue.

It's time we questioned a cultural institution that promises affordability and financial security, but doesn't deliver either. This article is part of The Forum ’s Debate Series, in which student writers take opposing sides on issues of importance to public life. Read the other side of the debate here . Credit: Flickr These days, there is little that conservatives and liberals can agree on. Except for one thing: homeownership is the pinnacle of the American Dream. As president, Obama declared  that “the heart of the American Dream” is “the chance to own your own home.” Presidential candidate Kamala Harris called for increased down payment assistance , and Trump has promoted homeownership in numerous speeches , tweets , and legislation . Conservative pundit Tucker Carlson claims  that homeownership is the “best measure of how your country is doing.” And in his opposing piece, my great friend (and debate opponent in this Forum  series) Shiv Parihar ‘28 declares that owning a home is about “owning a share in our collective destiny.” With all of this bipartisan support for homeownership, who would dare question it? Well, me. In fact, I will lay out evidence that America’s obsession with homeownership is not only financially harmful to individuals, but that it perpetuates housing shortages, systemic racial inequality, homelessness, and a false path to success. I’ll begin by dispelling the most misguided defense of homeownership: that it is a sound investment. Let’s consider a thought experiment. Say you have a substantial amount of money to invest – $80,000, we’ll call it – and you go to a financial advisor for advice. She suggests the following:  “ Put all $80,000 into a single asset. There’s a small risk of your asset burning down, flooding, or getting swept away by winds, and a good chance that it’ll require thousands of dollars in maintenance and repair every few years. It will appreciate at a rate significantly lower than the stock market. You can’t sell it whenever you want, unless you want to be exposed to the elements. Oh, and that $80k was just the down payment – you’ll need to sink in another ~$330,000 on the principal and ~$450,000 on interest over 30 years.” You would call that advisor insane! Yet millions of Americans wrongly justify their home purchases as “investments.” Since 1987, the Case-Shiller Home Price Index has tracked typical home values in the US. From 1987 to 2025, real (inflation adjusted) home prices  have risen just 78%, while the real value of the S&P 500  has risen a dizzying 1,664%. And index funds hold a second, major advantage over a house: they are diversified, thus hedged against fluctuations in individual stocks. By contrast, the value of one’s home is highly dependent  on prices in the small neighborhood around it.  So no, Shiv, you can’t “raise your family in a stock portfolio” – but you shouldn’t act like your house is one. Figure 1.  Chart showing S&P 500 (red) vs. Case-Shiller Home Index (black) growth since 1987. The difference is stark. Source: Longtermtrends Earlier, I called America’s relationship with homeownership an “obsession.” Why? First, the government has done lots to subsidize the practice, driven by a cultural infatuation dating back to the Cold War . Widespread homeownership wasn’t delivered by free markets, but massive tax breaks  and cheap loans from government-sponsored enterprises . Shiv argues that, if anything, the government should go even further  to “make homeownership accessible to all.” Why not make stock market investing accessible to all  instead, providing Americans with an actual  path to retirement and affordable college education? Unfortunately, Americans seem to share  Shiv’s outsized enthusiasm. This year, 90% of Americans said that owning a home is part of the American Dream, with the average respondent ranking it above “having a job they love,” “being married/having a life partner,” and “having children.” Really folks?  Shiv would justify this ordering of priorities by arguing that one’s home is an “investment in their community and society.” It strikes me that finding valuable work and starting a loving family are better community investments than merely owning a structure. It’s a shame that most Americans don’t see it this way. Figure 2.  Survey of the “life goals” of 1000 Americans, with 1 as most important and 10 as least. Who needs love and joy when you can own a two-car garage? Source: Clever Real Estate Let me clarify: I don’t think that homeownership is all bad, far from it. But it’s also not essential. Despite what you may have been told, you don’t need  to own a house  to raise a family or achieve economic success. I am not calling for everyone to live in apartments, nor do I consider suburban sprawl a “dirty phrase,” as Shiv retorts. In many cities, you can rent a single-family home in the suburbs for 60% less  than the cost of buying while barely sacrificing on location or amenities. There are plenty of valid, non-financial reasons to own a home. Some Americans own land for farming, hunting, or to escape regulation – it’s reasonable for them to own the structures on that land as well. Other homeowners want the freedom to paint their walls a different color or fill their front yard with new plants without getting a landlord’s permission. Others still simply enjoy feeling grounded and stable – fair enough. The irony is that, for all the freedom homeowners seek, many are regularly deprived of it. Homeowners associations (HOAs) now oversee  53% of all US homeowners and a whopping 82% of new home development. Most HOAs prohibit  non-regulation paint colors, unapproved plant species, personal mailbox decorations, too many pets, and loud music at night. HOA residents have been evicted  for missing dues, taken to court  over “brown” lawns, and fined hundreds of dollars  for handing out free water. Sure doesn’t sound like good ol’ American freedom to me. Figure 3.  An actual HOA letter received by my parents (yes, admittedly I was raised in an owned home – it takes one to know one). We were chastised for “noncompliance” over “weeds.” There were, in fact, about five weeds. Source: my camera roll Despite our cultural obsession with homeownership, prospective young homebuyers consistently feel “priced out”  of the market. While home values have risen slower than stock market values, they have certainly outpaced Americans’ wages. Over the 1987-present period, during which real home values rose 78%, real median wages  grew just 14%. In other words, homes have gotten exorbitantly expensive , while Americans’ earnings have barely budged – and yet, young people continue to see homeownership as a prerequisite for attaining the American Dream. Disparities between wages and housing costs have real impacts – economists found a direct correlation  between the cost of housing and homelessness rates, even  when you adjust  for poverty rates and unemployment. This is largely because American cities with the highest homelessness implement zoning laws  meant to shield home values  that inadvertently reduce housing supply. But even the “Abundance” liberals developing these critiques  gloss over the core problem: too many of America’s homes are owned. Homeownership is a zero-sum game for buyers and sellers. If I currently live in an owned-home neighborhood, I want home values in my area to rise; if you want to move into my community, you want home values to fall. One of us will lose – and usually, it’s the current homeowner that wins by fighting to artificially restrict supply . By contrast, if I rent my home, I’m perfectly happy for rents in my area to remain low, as would be someone who wants to move in. Shiv provides his own economic evidence that homeownership causes better life outcomes, but these studies generally fail to hold up to scrutiny. He cites Robert and House (1996)  to show that homeowners report better health. Yet the abstract of this paper reads, “financial assets, especially liquid assets [stock holdings], are associated with health throughout adulthood” – not  homeownership. Shiv then points out that homeowners remain in one place longer than renters. I agree – that’s exactly what homeownership incentivizes . But being stuck in one place hurts American workers  who could stand to gain by moving, especially those in the working class. Figure 4.  Sorry, Shiv, but Robert and House just “robbed” your argument for owning a house. Source: Robert and House (1996) Furthermore, even when home values rise, not all Americans benefit equally. Homes in Black neighborhoods are consistently undervalued  by roughly 23% of what they would be worth in non-Black neighborhoods (meaning a $400k home in a White neighborhood would be worth $292k in a Black one). In fact, homeownership has an insidious history as a covert method for racial segregation. American suburbia, specifically of owned homes, sprang up in the 1950s as a way for White, middle-class Americans to create racially homogenous neighborhoods  outside of increasingly Black and Latino city centers. Homeownership may not have caused systemic racial inequality, but it certainly perpetuates it. There are some legitimate concerns about renting that need to be addressed: namely, that renters are at risk of extortion by landlords and can be pushed out of their own communities by gentrification . The best solution to these problems isn’t homeownership, but local community organizing. Tenant unions , co-ops , and community land trusts  have all succeeded in the US and abroad in stabilizing rent prices and fending off gentrification of cultural communities. If you skimmed through this piece to the end, let me put it this way: homeownership in this country is a bit like a Green Beach party at CMC. Some people actually like it, but most of us have no idea why we’re there: we just followed the crowd, and now we’re paying the consequences. Let’s shake this habit, America.