The Boys [Media Notes 187]

David Colman, The Emmy Awards Are Afraid of This Vulgar, Gory, Brilliant Show, NYTimes, July 19, 2026.

Last week, a raft of intelligent, watchable, enjoyable shows were nominated for the Emmy Award for outstanding drama series, the TV version of the best picture Oscar. Each of these prestige TV shows made tart references to our current moment. “The Pitt” dealt with ICE in the E.R. “Slow Horses” and “The Diplomat” dramatized the dangers of cynical political expedience. “The Gilded Age” and “Paradise” produced two very different takes on oligarch-itecture. “Your Friends & Neighbors” wallowed in larcenous suburban finance dads in midlife crisis, while “A Knight of the Seven Kingdoms” jousted with how to transcend one’s “low birth.” The only show to truly depart from dramatic realism was “Pluribus,” a sci-fi show about a space virus that made virtually all humans highly agreeable zombies, making you wonder if this is what life will be like living in a world ruled by A.I. agents.

But in the end, none of them actually tried to capture the grand farce of a moment we’re in. They didn’t even come close. Each of them is too polite, too nuanced, too, in the end, moderate — centrist, even.

And then there’s The Boys, which captured our current moment, where it’s “as if we’re living in a burn-it-all-down age of greed, mayhem and corruption.”

There was one show, however, that hit this head-on — and it’s not “Industry,” HBO’s finance-and-cocaine drama that was also snubbed by the Emmys this year. It’s Amazon Prime’s “The Boys.” The superhero spoof, which ended its five-season run this May, received not a single Emmy nomination in a major award category. Despite the fact that it dared to land savage, serious and entertaining punches about everything warped in American culture — corporate greed, celebrity worship, moral hypocrisy and how they all fit together. [...]

For those unfamiliar, “The Boys” is set in an alt-present-day United States, where superheroes (“supes”) are real and abundant. But instead of renegades valiantly saving the world from doomsday plots, they’re more like substance-abusing superinfluencers: entitled, narcissistic pursuers of fame whose high-profile “saves” are frequently stage-managed photo ops. They often offhandedly end up killing bystanders. The supes — especially the elite supe group known as “The Seven,” a parody of DC’s Justice League — are controlled, weaponized and monetized by the company that came up with the chemical to create them: Vought International, a corporate octopus whose business interests range from Disney-style entertainment to pharmaceuticals to military contracts.

The gullible public laps up all the supe mythology — especially that of Homelander, the all-American, charismatic leader of the Seven whose authoritarian megalomania drives him to take over the Oval Office, having naysayers locked up in detention camps (or just laser-visioning them in half) along the way.

For what it’s worth, I was hooked from the first season in 2019, while the Trumposaurus was finishing off his first term.

This vulgar world of corporate-branded superheroes isn’t just an ironic conceit; it’s a brilliant, subversive lampooning of our politically divided, social-media-addicted, celebrity-hypnotized society — and, in the words of the “Boys” showrunner Eric Kripke, of the “powerful and selfish people using social media to intentionally tear people apart for their own selfish interests.”

It may not be subtle. But neither is the era we live in. The Shakespearean scramble of “House of Cards” or “Succession” (both repeat Emmy winners for outstanding drama series) seems quaint by comparison with what we get on newsfeeds every day. [...]

You might wonder why a show that focuses on the superheroes isn’t called “The Supes,” but that’s really the point here. The characters putting the plot into action aren’t the supes, but “the boys,” the four men, and eventually two women, who commit themselves to destroying the company and the supes who are making their world a living hell. Even if some have superpowers, they don’t know what they’re doing. They take insane chances. They fail over and over and keep getting outsmarted by Vought — until they don’t. The show’s real heroes, working outside the official system, pursue their impossible task no matter how the deck is stacked against them. And that is how they win.

There’s more at the link.

Blood, Sweat & Tears was bigger than I've remembered (what the hell happened to them?)

What the Hell Happened to Blood, Sweat & Tears?

From the YouTube page:

A political thriller about the first American rock band to perform behind the Iron Curtain, whose members find themselves in the crosshairs between the Right and the Left of a polarized America with severe career repercussions.

I was certainly aware of Blood, Sweat & Tears back in the 1960s and 70s. After all, I played in a band that played a number of BS&T tunes. But I don’t remember them as being THAT big, perhaps because, as the Wikipedia entry notes, “by the mid-1970s the group’s popularity began a decline.” And if I was aware of their State Department-sponsored tour of Eastern Europe in 1970, which is the focus of this fascinating documentary, I’ve forgotten or repressed it.

Democratic socialism, American style: Douthat interviews Bashar Sunkara

Ross Douthat, A Vision of a ‘Society Without Capitalism’, NYTimes, July 16, 2026

Democratic socialists are having a moment. But can they actually remake the Democratic Party — and the American economy — in their image? My guest today, Bhaskar Sunkara [founding editor of Jacobin], WLB, is a longtime democratic socialist, and he makes the case that socialism has a universal appeal that transcends our current politics and will ultimately triumph against capitalism.

Well into the interview, Bill of Rights socialism:

Douthat: So you’re saying that if there’s a socialist contract with America, it does not promise collectivization and a one-party state?

Sunkara: I think we believe in a Bill of Rights socialism.

Douthat: So what is it?

Sunkara: There’s an immediate set of demands that you could call us attempting to bring about doses of socialism within capitalism.

This comes in the realm of decommodification of certain goods, providing them as social rights instead of them being dependent on your ability to pay.

Health care in America is partially decommodified. If you’re elderly, if you’re very poor, if you’re a child, you’re going to have guaranteed access to health care. We want to see that extended.

Same thing with things like Social Security and certain other benefits, or an expansion of the welfare state — not unlike Norway.

I also would go further and say that even within capitalism in the here and now, there are sectors of the economy that I would like to see greater state control of. In the old language of the left, we would call it the commanding heights of the economy, but even things like rail — there are benefits to selective nationalization, particularly of natural monopolies.

That vision right there of socialism within capitalism, could be true of a lot of social democrats.

So beyond that, the question is: Why would you go about calling yourself a democratic socialist? For me, I call myself a democratic socialist because I actually believe in a socialism beyond capitalism.

I actually do believe in an economy built on the idea that workers should control their workplaces and on this more radical vision of a society without capitalism, even if it still has a motor needed for investment and for efficiency gains and growth and so on.

Housing:

Douthat: OK. But those people in Queens who you mentioned, they’re concerned about housing, right? Is the leftward view of what housing policy should be for the Democrats, going forward?

Sunkara: I think everyone can see, across the political spectrum, that there’s a huge problem with housing construction in the U.S.

So Zohran’s policy, for example, in New York, is very heavily built around upzoning and making it easier for developers to build, and I think people agree with that.

But beyond that, I think on the left, we point to successful examples around the world of public housing being done right. We think at least part of the construction needs to be public housing. We also need to maintain and expand existing units.

I think that’s the room for the state to step up and do more things. But I think these solutions are largely, first and foremost, on the supply side. Then beyond that, we do believe in certain stabilizations and other things.

Douthat: Rent stabilization, meaning rent control or —

Sunkara: Rent control, which can be designed well. It could also be designed poorly.

But you could imagine, for example, telling landlords: “We’re going to clear the way. We’re going to allow you to create this big housing development. We’re going to fight against the interests of local homeowners, and you build your big piece of housing. But after 30 years, after you have a reasonable return on investment, that unit is going to have some degree of rent stabilization,” for instance.

That, to me, is a perfectly common sense, economically coherent vision for housing. I know there’s lots of talk on the left and in the Democratic Party about the debate over abundance, but fundamentally, any form of social democracy is grow-give.

There needs to be a motor for economic investment. There needs to be profitability in order to have something to redistribute. The added component that I would say is an important part of a socialist agenda is making sure that there are strong unions in workplaces that can advocate for higher wages even before the state gets involved with redistribution.

A.I.:

Douthat: What about A.I.? Bernie has taken some pretty strong stances, I would say. He has sort of staked out a position as the Democratic politician most open to both doomer narratives about A.I., but also most enthused about the prospect of strong government intervention.

What is the socialist position on the A.I. industry right now?

Sunkara: I think there’s a host of different socialist positions. I lean more on the side of just seeing it as any other technology. Companies are going to invest in new technologies. The economy is going to change. We’re going to need to adapt and figure out how to regulate it.

Obviously, any changes that we do, any regulation we need to do, need to make sense in an international context too.

It doesn’t make sense to tank certain U.S. companies if there’s going to be other companies creating the same disruption that are coming from other parts of the world.

But I think this gets to the level of policy where there’s legitimate debates. I think the idea which has been touted by figures as varied as Bernie Sanders and Steve Bannon is of the U.S. government owning a stake in major A.I. companies.

It makes perfect sense, too. But, fundamentally, we have to respond to a dynamic economy in which there’s always going to be new technologies, there’s always going to be new wants and needs, and new goods and services, and we need regulation that’s able to be flexible and adapt with changes. [...]

There needs to be a motor for economic investment. There needs to be profitability in order to have something to redistribute. The added component that I would say is an important part of a socialist agenda is making sure that there are strong unions in workplaces that can advocate for higher wages even before the state gets involved with redistribution.

What of capitalism?

Douthat: But just pulling back, I feel like we’ve danced around this a little bit, so let me just ask it directly: Is democratic socialism compatible with capitalism?

Sunkara: In the long term, no. We’re anticapitalist. We want a world beyond capitalism. But in the short term, while we’re within a capitalist economy, of course, we need firms that are profitable, that are providing employment, that are providing taxation. So I think to govern in the short term as social democrats, we need profitable firms.

But in the long term, you know, I don’t hide my desire that I think the economy should be socialized, even if I think in the socialized economy, there needs to be a role for markets and also a role for worker-controlled firms to be able to meet people’s needs and provide new goods and services.

Douthat: What’s the distinction you make between capitalism and markets then?

Sunkara: Well, I think markets existed before capitalism. Capitalism is a regime of property ownership that says that as an individual capitalist or as a corporation, we own this private property and we use this private property to employ people and to produce goods and services.

And in my vision of a just society, of a socialist society, that private property would be controlled by ordinary workers who would get their financing from public banks, who would still operate with hard budgets. They would still need to meet goods and services and meet their payroll obligations and things like that.

But you don’t have a class of people who, as individuals, control investment decisions.

There's much more at the link.

Can the USofA Hold On? [the MAGA way, the way of the dodo]

Nicholas Kristof, Can the United States Hold On? NYTimes, July 8, 2026.

Kaifeng is today a sleepy Chinese city on the Yellow River, but a millennium ago it was probably the most important place in the world. It was then China’s capital and was crowded with a population of about one million. (London’s population was then about 15,000.)

Other contenders for global leadership in the year 1000 were the Byzantine Empire based in Constantinople, the Abbasid caliphate based in Baghdad and the Ghaznavid Empire in West Asia, headquartered in what is now Ghazni, Afghanistan. None were able to adapt and preserve themselves.

So I wonder: Can the United States hold on? Will the United States still be vibrant on our 500th birthday? Or will we go the way of Byzantium and the Abbasids?

We're slipping on our three-pronged path to prosperity:

....heavy investments in human capital such as education. The United States was a world leader in mass education in the 19th and 20th centuries, but we now rank ninth in reading, 16th in science and 34th in math, according to the PISA global ranking of student test scores.

Human capital is also about our health and well-being, and that likewise is discouraging: The United States now ranks 61st in life expectancy globally, according to the World Bank.

A second prong of America’s growth path was the welcome we (inconsistently and imperfectly) at times offered immigrants. [...]

The third element of America’s growth formula — a reliance on free markets — remains largely intact, at least by international standards. But inequality appears to have soared since 1980, and there’s evidence that while some inequality is necessary for growth, too much dampens it. The dollar remains overwhelmingly the world’s currency but has weakened, and its supremacy is being challenged at the edges. [...]

True, our animating ideas — of equality, of opportunity, of openness to immigration — were in part rhetorical flourishes, for they don’t explain Jim Crow, the Chinese Exclusion Acts or tight curbs on Jewish immigration. But these ideas were aspirational, and over the centuries they inspired real progress. Now I fear we’ve retreated even from the aspirations.

Losers:

As I see it, we’ve lost two wars in the past half-dozen years — one against the Afghan Taliban and one against Iran just this year — not to mention last year losing a trade war with China. We may be retreating from NATO and from efforts to buttress Taiwan.

Our position — divided at home and weakening abroad — is reminiscent of the decline of great powers in the past, not just the Abbasids and Ghaznavids but also Spain in 1588 and Britain in the late 19th century.

Optimists:

My very guarded optimism about America’s long-run prospects is based on three factors:

First, we appear to have maintained an edge (partly by importing scientists) in technology, which since the dawn of the Industrial Revolution has been a driver of progress and global leadership. Then it was the steam engine and spinning jenny. Now it is artificial intelligence, materials science and biotechnology. And our technological sophistication pairs well with the world’s deepest financial markets, with American stocks accounting for roughly two-thirds of global stock value, compared with less than 30 percent in 1988.

Second, other nations have their own problems. Our principal competitor for now is China, which has enormous strengths but also is aging fast and declining in population and is led by an aging dictator.

Third, prophecies of American decline are nothing new. [...]

So I don’t believe that our decline is inevitable.

There's more at the link.

Stop merely predicting a shorter workweek and make it happen.

Joanne Lipman, Sorry, A.I. Is Not Giving Us a Four-Day Workweek, NYTimes, July 6, 2027.

Some of the brightest minds in business believe that artificial intelligence will spell the end of the 40-hour workweek. The financier Steve Cohen has said we will work four days per week soon, while Zoom’s chief executive, Eric Yuan, predicts it will be three. Bill Gates foresees a two-day workweek within a decade, and Elon Musk says work will ultimately become optional altogether, akin to a hobby, like “playing sports or a video game.”

Don’t count on it.

The truth is, any one of these executives could have shortened the workweek years ago, long before A.I.

Studies have proved that a four-day workweek with the same pay is not only possible, but superior. A 2015 trial in Iceland was so successful — productivity remained the same or better, while employee satisfaction soared — that it has since expanded throughout the country. A 2022 study in Britain involving 61 companies and almost 3,000 employees found that revenue increased, while employee stress and burnout plunged. Experiments in New Zealand, Japan, Australia and Brazil have also been home runs.

Americans overwhelmingly favor a four-day workweek, too. Yet it has largely been a non-starter here. In my four-plus decades as a journalist and editor, I’ve written and assigned multiple articles about workplace trends. Almost every expert prediction on the demise of the five-day workweek has been wrong.

Why? Because we consistently underestimate executives’ ferocious attachment to face time. [...]

Moreover:

Full-time employees last year worked an average of 41.9 hours per week, a figure that hasn’t changed much since the pre-internet 1990s. And at home, the advent of the internet didn’t decrease the amount of time Americans spent on housework. It’s an old pattern: As dishwashers and microwaves supercharged productivity in the 20th century, expectations about cleanliness, nutrition and child-rearing ballooned accordingly, and chores like laundry that once might have been outsourced migrated right back to homeowners.

A.I. appears to be following the same trajectory, increasing our output rather than decreasing our workload.

It sounds like these folks are committed to long hours for (pseudo)moral reasons but can't bring themselves to admit it.

Notably, while the chorus of leaders predicting a shorter workweek continues to grow, most are vague about when that change might happen. None of them appear to be setting things in motion now. Admittedly, a wholesale shift to a shorter workweek would be highly complex for large companies — and far more so for a society that’s built around the five-day cadence, encompassing everything from school hours to infrastructure projects.

A shorter workweek would also require a significant shift in America’s workaholic culture, which views busyness as a status symbol. [...] There’s a reason that one of the most quoted lines from “The Devil Wears Prada 2” is the workaholic editor Miranda Priestly cooing, “Boy, I love working. I really do. Don’t you?”

Exactly. Homo economicus strikes again.

The South Dakota Symphony and the Lakota Music Project

Joseph Horowitz, At 250, Has America Delivered on Its Classical Music Promise? NYTimes, July 4, 2026.

The article is a general review of classical music in America starting with Henry Lee Higginson and the Boston Symphony. It's interesting throughout, but I want to present a single excerpt, from the end.

In the Midwest, the South Dakota Symphony Orchestra (for which, full disclosure, I serve as scholar in residence) likewise fulfills the credo pronounced long ago by Theodore Thomas when he crusaded for symphonic music across the United States: “A symphony orchestra shows the culture of the community, not opera.”

In fact, the concert orchestra, to a remarkable degree, proved an American invention — a civic hub comparable to the opera house abroad. The South Dakota Symphony enjoys a music director, Delta David Gier, who moved to Sioux Falls 22 years ago and has raised a family there. Gier has at all times insisted that an orchestra aspire to serve a specific community in specific ways. His signature initiative is the Lakota Music Project, which binds the orchestra to Native American reservations throughout the state. Beyond that, all the proposals now controversial in Boston, including thematic festivals and “affinity programing,” have already been implemented in Sioux Falls.

Do the South Dakota Symphony musicians, in Eagle Hawk’s words, “feel it”? The orchestra maintains a nine-member, full-time core consisting of a string quartet and wind quintet, both self-governing. They perform more than 100 times per season. At the Pine Ridge or Rosebud reservations, they play with Lakota drummers and singers, and mentor young musical aspirants. The remainder of the orchestra’s members, many of whom come from the Twin Cities area of Minnesota, are self-selecting: They do not trek to Sioux Falls for the income, but are enticed by the repertoire, which is brave, and the vibe, which is exhilarating.

The history of the Lakota Music Project tracks the South Dakota Symphony’s larger trajectory. It is an exercise in building trust and mutual understanding. Early on, the symphony members and the Porcupine Singers would play for each other. Personal and musical relationships evolved. Then there were fledgling attempts to make music together. The most recent Lakota Music Project tour, last October, premiered two compositions: one by Jeffrey Paul, the orchestra’s extraordinary principal oboist, and one by Bermel, with whom I conferred about those Met Opera broadcasts. The performers included symphony musicians alongside Pine Ridge’s Creekside Singers and the Dakota flutist Bryan Akipa.

In both pieces, elements of Native American and Western classical music merged triumphantly. Bermel has recast his composition to include the entire South Dakota Symphony; it premieres in November as part of a two-week festival considering “Native American inspirations” in classical music, beginning with Dvorak’s “New World” Symphony (accompanied by visuals exploring his indebtedness to Longfellow’s “The Song of Hiawatha”). Given the intellectual heft of this exercise, tracking the “Indianist” movement Dvorak inspired and its more recent aftermath, the festival will reach beyond the concert hall not only to local high schools, but to classrooms and concerts at four universities in four South Dakota cities.

SpaceX has become a securitized narrative, a meme stock

Know why $SPCX is so volatile?

Because it’s a meme stock with a rocket company thrown in.

So the price is being driven by vibes, not news.

— Gary Marcus (@GaryMarcus) June 26, 2026

From the S-1, p. 30:

Our mission is to build the systems and technologies necessary to make life multiplanetary, to understand the true nature of the universe, and to extend the light of consciousness to the stars. To do this, we have formed the most ambitious, vertically integrated innovation engine on (and off) Earth with unmatched capabilities to rapidly manufacture and launch space-based communications that connect the world, to harness the Sun to power a truth- seeking artificial intelligence that advances scientific discovery, and ultimately to build a base on the Moon and cities on other planets.

In other words, to boldly go where no one has gone before.

Why do American's fear AI, but many other countries don't? [Homo economicus strikes again!]

Paul Kedrosky, There’s One Clear Reason Why Americans Are Gloomy About A.I., NYTimes, June 25, 2026.

Hating artificial intelligence may be the only thing about which Americans agree. But they are global outliers in their pessimism. A survey of 24,000 adults across 30 countries found that citizens of nearly all of those countries, rich or poor, see A.I. more favorably than Americans do. This is startling for citizens of a wealthy, advanced economy who are usually enthusiastic tech adopters of anything with a wall charger. [...]

Why isn’t it working? Because the theory is incomplete, at best. If American A.I. pessimism were merely cultural or informational, it would correlate with media consumption, education levels or political polarization. Instead, it cuts across all those categories. It correlates instead with labor market institutions.

Start with the global picture. Plot A.I. sentiment against income and labor market, and there is a pattern. Poorer countries are A.I. optimistic: Indonesia at 76 percent, Thailand at 77 percent and Mexico at 63 percent. Rich countries like the United States, the Netherlands and Belgium are not. What A.I. means depends, in large part, on where you sit economically.

In countries with largely informal economies — where large numbers of people work without contracts, benefits or legal protections — A.I. looks like a ladder to better economic outcomes previously available only to those with capital, education and formal employment. A small manufacturer in Guadalajara or a street vendor in Jakarta doesn’t have much to lose from A.I. disruption, and potentially a great deal to gain.

In rich countries with more formal labor markets, however, A.I. looks more like an ambush. It threatens what people already have: stable employment, predictable income and accumulated professional standing. [...]

But not all wealthy nations feel the same. Norway is more optimistic than France, and Germany more than Canada. Those countries have broadly similar income levels, so income alone doesn’t explain the variation.

So what does? In Norway, losing your job means receiving around 67 percent of your previous wages in unemployment benefits while you search for the next position. In France, it’s around 66 percent, and 60 percent in Germany. The insurance system treats unemployment as a temporary inconvenience and bridges you smoothly across.

The United States pays significantly less in unemployment benefits than many European countries do. [...]

There's more at the link.

Eliezer Yudkowsky, LessWrong, OpenAI & countercultures past & present

Claude 4.6 Medium summarizes a dialog I had with Gemini that started with an inquiry about 

1) Eliezer Yudkowsky, his early ideas, & his early following, 
2) then to his interactions with Peter Thiel, Elon Musk, and Sam Altman that got OpenAI started, 
3) to my own sojourn on LessWrong and 
4) concluded with the connection between 1960s counterculture and contemporary Silicon Valley computer culture.

For some reason Claude pretended to summarize the conversation in my voice.

* * * * *

A Conversation with Gemini About Eliezer Yudkowsky Bill Benzon, new-savanna.blogspot.com, June 24, 2026

I recently had an extended exchange with Gemini (accessed through the Google search interface) about Eliezer Yudkowsky — a figure I've been thinking about in the context of AI culture more broadly. What follows is a summary of where the conversation went.

It began with a query about Yudkowsky's 2007 paper Levels of Organization in General Intelligence (LOGI), which argues that recursive self-improvement could allow an AI to rapidly cycle through levels of cognitive architecture in ways that would break traditional training and testing boundaries. Gemini gave a competent account of the paper's significance for AI alignment theory.

I then offered my own assessment: reading LOGI years ago, I concluded it was the kind of work produced by a brilliant college sophomore who had figured out everything and decided to write it up. The sort of student you'd want to guide and nurture — but of course, that never happened with Yudkowsky, who is entirely self-educated. Gemini agreed this was a common reaction, and traced the characteristic features of his writing — grand scope, idiosyncratic jargon, overconfidence — to the absence of the standard academic filters that would normally shape a thinker. Without a thesis advisor to push back, he co-founded his own institutions (MIRI, LessWrong), creating an insulated subculture where he became the mentor rather than the student.

I offered a specific passage from LOGI as an example of what goes wrong. Yudkowsky dismisses semantic networks as "completely bankrupt" on the grounds that they're simple enough to write on paper. Gemini correctly identified this as a classic category error: confusing the notation with the mechanism. The diagram on the whiteboard is inert; what matters is the graph-traversal algorithms, the spreading activation, the interpreter running the data structure. Ironically, Yudkowsky later wrote extensively about the Map-Territory Fallacy — but as I put it to Gemini, he is constantly mistaking a map for the territory. His entire worldview treats clean theoretical proofs as if they dictate messy engineering realities.

From there the conversation turned to how Yudkowsky managed to build such a large following despite these intellectual weaknesses. Gemini confirmed that Harry Potter and the Methods of Rationality, his 660,000-word fanfiction, was openly designed as a recruiting tool — drawing technically minded young people into the Rationalist and AI safety ecosystems. Countless engineers and founders who later populated early AI labs first encountered his ideas through that story.

The crowning irony: Yudkowsky's warnings about AI helped convince Elon Musk, Peter Thiel, and Sam Altman that humanity needed a counterweight to closed corporate AI efforts — which led directly to the founding of OpenAI in 2015. Once OpenAI pivoted to the empirical, data-driven methodology of large language models, they completely bypassed the deductive logic "maps" Yudkowsky had spent decades drawing. Sam Altman acknowledged Yudkowsky's role in a 2023 tweet, noting that he had arguably done more to accelerate AGI than anyone else, and adding that he might someday deserve a Nobel Peace Prize.

I told Gemini that wouldn't be necessary. I also shared my own experience: I joined LessWrong around the time ChatGPT launched, initially as an anthropological participant-observer, but stayed for the conversation, which I found genuinely useful. There are very smart people there. But the insularity was unmistakable — and I described one telling episode: someone on the forum was trying to spread Rationalism in Japan and struggling. I pointed out that Japanese popular culture, from Osamu Tezuka's Astro Boy through the Ghost in the Shell franchise, has a long history of viewing robots and AI as fundamentally benevolent — an expression of Shinto techno-animism, in which kami can reside in machines as naturally as in rivers. They simply didn't know about this cultural background. Gemini observed that the Western doomer ethos is rooted in a Frankenstein complex with Judeo-Christian substrata: creating life is hubris, and the creation must turn on its master. The Japanese paradigm operates from entirely different premises. The LessWrong response to my observation? They noted it and moved on.

After a while I tired of the place. One small anecdote captures the texture of the experience: I frequently link out to other things I've written, and one LessWrong post linked to an essay-review I'd done of Benny Shannon's book on ayahuasca. I noticed a significant spike of traffic to my Academia page coming from LessWrong and pointing to that essay — which tells you something about the undercurrent of interest in altered states of consciousness running alongside the dry decision theory. They approach psychedelics with an engineer's curiosity: the brain as a computer, phenomenology as data.

The conversation ended with what I think is the most useful historical frame. LessWrong is, in structure and function, a counterculture — but centered on computers and AI, with Yudkowsky as guru rather than Timothy Leary. And there's a genuine genealogical link through San Francisco and transhumanism: Stewart Brand bridging the Merry Pranksters to personal computing, the Extropians of the 1990s who wanted to transcend the body via nanotechnology and cryonics rather than LSD, and then Yudkowsky emerging from that same Bay Area Transhumanist mailing-list culture. Fred Turner's From Counterculture to Cyberculture maps this lineage. The counterculture became the vanguard — but corporate reality, as I noted to Gemini, has not submitted. Bill Gates and his successors were never absorbed by the counterculture. Peter Thiel, who was an early funder of MIRI, has since publicly labeled Yudkowsky a Luddite and positioned AI safety concerns as obstacles to American technological dominance. The "well-run alternative universe" of LessWrong lost all leverage once scaling deep learning required billions of dollars in silicon, electricity, and data centers. The colorful intellectual vanguard warmed society up to the idea of AGI; then the massive engine of global capitalism took the steering wheel.

The subculture keeps its cozy, insular forum to debate the semantics of the map. The corporate empires plow ahead across the territory.

A Face in the Crowd [Media Notes 185]

Bret Primack, aka Jazz Video Guy, has a post about A Face in the Crowd (1957), chilling movie starring Andy Griffith. Here's how it opens:

There’s a drunk in an Arkansas jail who’s about to become the most powerful man in America.

He can’t help himself. He’s funny, loose, dangerous, and magnetic in ways that make you lean toward him even when something in the back of your brain is sending signals you’re choosing to ignore. His name is Larry “Lonesome” Rhodes, and Elia Kazan put him on screen in 1957, which means the film has now spent nearly seven decades being more relevant than it was the year before.

If you haven’t seen it, stop reading, scroll down watch it first. If you have seen it, you already know what I’m about to say.

Kazan made A Face in the Crowd with screenwriter Budd Schulberg, fresh off On the Waterfront. Both men were carrying complicated personal freight — they’d each named names before the House Un-American Activities Committee, Schulberg in 1951, Kazan in 1952. Both were condemned by significant portions of the Hollywood left, and that condemnation followed them. [...] What they actually made was something darker and more personal than a political warning — a film built by two men who understood betrayal from the inside. [...]

Lonesome Rhodes is not just a villain. He’s a product. His raw, folksy charm makes him an instant hit on local radio, and the machine takes it from there — television, sponsors, politicians, handlers. As his power grows, so does his contempt for the audience that made him. He holds his followers in private disdain while publicly celebrating them as the heartland soul of America. The film understands something that most political films miss entirely: authenticity itself can be manufactured, and the more real someone seems, the more carefully that realness has been constructed.

When it was released in 1957, critics called it unrealistic. Too paranoid. Too on the nose. That’s worth sitting with for a moment — the scenario that seemed like exaggeration then is now just Tuesday.

Andy Griffith’s performance is the reason the film works at the visceral level. He had almost no film experience before Kazan cast him, and that rawness is inseparable from what he does on screen. There’s no technique getting in the way. [...]

Kazan reportedly called it one of the finest performances he ever directed. Given that Kazan worked with Brando at his peak, that’s not a throwaway remark.

Contemporary resonance:

The comparison to Donald Trump gets made every time this film is discussed, and it holds up to a point. The billionaire performing as populist, the television personality who understands the medium as a tool of dominance rather than information, the contempt that surfaces in unguarded moments, the persona of success constructed over a private reality of failures. Rhodes and Trump share the same operating mechanism.

But the comparison reveals where the film’s imagination ran out. Rhodes is ultimately destroyed. The hot mic moment — caught mocking the very people who worship him — ends him. Schulberg and Kazan still believed in a rational audience that could be shocked back to its senses. That faith looks genuinely touching now, the faith of men who lived before the complete dissolution of shared reality.

Trump’s supporters processed every exposure, every revelation, every unguarded moment, and stayed loyal. The mask slipped repeatedly and it didn’t matter, because the audience had decided the mask was the point. What Kazan and Schulberg couldn’t anticipate was social media removing the last gatekeepers, so that the Lonesome Rhodes dynamic now operates at a scale and speed that makes 1957 network television look like a church bulletin.

The film identified a structural vulnerability in media democracy — that charisma plus television produces a kind of power that bypasses argument and rational persuasion entirely. What it couldn’t imagine was an audience that already knew, and didn’t care.

There's much more at the link. The full article is worth reading. And if you've not seen the film, do so.

John Quiggin on the SpaceX IPO

At Crooked Timber, June 15, 2026.

The SpaceX IPO, valuing a motley collection of dubious business at over a trillion dollars, marks the abandonment of the Efficient (financial) Markets Hypothesis, one of the zombie ideas I criticised in the wake of the Global Financial Crisis. Not only do financial markets fail in the task of valuing assets accurately, but the institutional structures that are supposed to make them work have given up trying.

This was prefigured by the rise of Bitcoin and other forms of crypto. Revealingly, no one any longer uses the term “cryptocurrency” – these assets are never used as currency in ordinary transactions, and even their illicit uses seem to have faded. Rather, Bitcoin is valuable solely because it is valued. As I pointed out back in 2018, (free from paywall here) once this logic is accepted, it can be applied to financial assets more generally, and particularly to stock markets. [...]

It’s only with SpaceX that we can see the complete abandonment of any pretence at rationality. In the case of SpaceX, I was struck by Dave Karpf’s observation that Musk’s wealth in 2020 was “only” $24 billion. Everything of value in his career (Tesla cars, batteries, Starlink) had been achieved by then, and everything he has touched since then has been a disaster (Xitter, Cybertruck, robotaxis, Starship). Yet his wealth has multiplied 50 times over).

In support of the IPO, Goldman Sachs has put its name to the claim that the company will grow 100 times over by 2030. This is patently absurd. Nothing in Musk’s ragbag of assets has this kind of potential. [...]

The comprehensive corruption of the financial system confirms me in the view that the USA is one big grift. Not just the financial system, but politically and militarily as well. But that’s a topic for another day.

Our alien overlords have arrived and their name is “Elon” [Starbase, TX]

Amy Gamerman, Elon Musk Is Colonizing Earth, NYTimes, June 12, 2026

In this town, almost every communal space is private property. A company controlled by the world’s richest man owns nearly all of it. He shapes its future.

This is Starbase, Texas, the city that Elon Musk built on America’s ragged hem at the southern border as the home for SpaceX, his aerospace and artificial intelligence company. Locals describe a highly secretive environment overseen by a company-affiliated city commission that rubber-stamps Mr. Musk’s vision, a place where even kindergartners are guided by his philosophies. Starbase is the newest manifestation of Mr. Musk’s political power. It is a beta test for a rising oligarchy that seems intent on transforming America from the inside out. [...]

On May 12, Mr. Musk announced on social media that “SpaceX is considering several locations domestically and internationally to build the world’s most advanced spaceports!” His announcement came on the heels of reports that a large parcel of land in coastal Louisiana may have been acquired by an anonymous aerospace company, widely rumored to be SpaceX.

These spaceports will allow Mr. Musk to create his own reality for other people to live in. He doesn’t need Mars. Mr. Musk has already built a colony of his own.

Mr. Musk often cites “Star Trek” as inspiration for founding SpaceX. “We want to make ‘Star Trek’ real, OK?” he said in January. But Starbase bears less similarity to the enlightened wonderland depicted in that 1960s television show than it does to the autocratic company towns of the 19th and early 20th centuries. Like Mr. Musk, the industrial titans of that era built their own private fiefs, not only to cement control over workers, but to realize their vision of an ideal society.

Perhaps the most grandiose company town of them all was Fordlandia, the sprawling city that Henry Ford built in the Brazilian rainforest to grow rubber trees. Fordlandia was Ford’s personal Utopia, an expression of his social views, his personal predilections and even his vegetarianism. Workers were forced to subsist on a diet heavy on brown rice, oatmeal and canned peaches, as detailed in Greg Grandin’s “Fordlandia: The Rise and Fall of Henry Ford’s Forgotten Jungle City.” For amusement, there was square dancing — Ford loved square dancing — and poetry readings.

Fordlandia’s ghost haunts Mr. Musk’s colony. Corporate control is so all-encompassing at Starbase that a warning on the menu at its Astropub restaurant alerts diners to the “confidentiality and proprietary nature” of the fare. Students at its private Ad Astra school are guided on “hands-on experiential missions.” The interplanetary mission is even written into the job description for a facilities supervisor overseeing waste management and janitorial needs.

There's much more at the link. It's not pretty reading.

On Steven Spielberg, three vignettes

Wesley Morris, Why We Still Need Steven Spielberg, NYTimes, June 7, 2026.

The cultural importance of movies:

Lately, the idea of a Steven Spielberg has felt endangered. For more than 50 years, his imagery has epitomized American movies, maybe even epitomized America. He has been at the center of an industry that, if it’s not dying, is certainly diminished. The sort of original movies that made Spielberg Spielberg are virtually nonexistent, even though the two major flavors that now define the industry — global box-office smash and best picture nominee — are, with Spielberg, indistinguishable (start with “Jaws,” “Raiders of the Lost Ark,” “E.T. the Extra-Terrestrial”). More than once, he inhabited both modes within one calendar year: “Jurassic Park” in the summer of 1993, for instance, then “Schindler’s List” at the end of Hanukkah, perhaps the most triumphant single-year change-up any Hollywood director has had. (He’s still the most commercially successful director ever, and he’s tied, at 13, with William Wyler for directing the most best picture Oscar nominees.)

Popular art has always bonded us to one another, no matter what might have been cleaving us apart, no matter how different our lives or how our responses to that art diverged. And Spielberg’s films have been a premium adhesive. Not only the ones he directed but the dozens of swooshing, indelibly kooky hits unleashed by Amblin Entertainment, his production company: “Poltergeist,” “Gremlins,” “The Goonies,” the “Back to the Future” trilogy, “Who Framed Roger Rabbit,” “Arachnophobia.”

Spielberg’s stardom arose from the collision of capitalism, audacity and creative vision. His movies emerged alongside the arrival of cable television and proliferating advances in personal computing and home entertainment. I watched “E.T.” at the movies, devoured it on cable, played it on my Atari and let Michael Jackson sing me a lullaby the movie inspired him to write. (Spielberg: so titanic that the other king of pop worshiped his thrillers.)

But a kind of cultural malnourishment has set in. While you once needed a pair of hands to count the major studios, we’re on the verge of barely needing one. And the best, most lucrative ideas entail microwaved nostalgia that we all know by its legal nickname: I.P. The takeovers and reheating, the obscure metrics that ensure we never quite know exactly how popular anything is, it’s dispiriting: Pac-Man eating ghosts, algorithms keeping secrets.

Working through his parent's divorce:

“For years, I was working out my mom and dad’s divorce through my stories,” he told me. The split happened when Spielberg was about 15, but the marriage had begun to fade years before. The family dissolved, too. He went off to live with his father, Arnold, a computer engineer, in Los Angeles, while his three sisters remained in Phoenix with their mother, Leah, a classical pianist who used to operate a kosher deli. But it seems that living under the same roof didn’t significantly change how remote Arnold could feel to his son.

Over dinner one night, Spielberg told me about working on “Indiana Jones and the Last Crusade” with George Lucas. The movie reunites Harrison Ford’s Indiana with his father, a Holy Grail expert played by Sean Connery. “My contribution was: ‘OK, but I want to meet Indy’s dad, and I want them to have had years of estrangement and father neglecting son because the father was a workaholic. And this story will bring them back together again.’” When Spielberg said this, he still sounded wishful and a touch sad. Watched through the lens of his childhood, his movies can seem newly forlorn, someone blowing on a birthday cake gated with stubborn candles.

For centuries, we’ve lived with a myth that genius — male genius — expresses itself as wild eccentricity or madness, that the personality warrants a cult or a harem. Spielberg disorients in that regard. I, at least, needed a moment to absorb how familiar he felt, how familial. The man who made “E.T.” was eerily reminiscent of the woman who took me to see “E.T.” Both of them have in common a special intuition to anticipate needs we don’t know we have. My mother did it for a household. For more than half a century, Spielberg has been doing the same for a planet. [...]

Spielberg hasn’t been to see a therapist since he was in college. Instead, the movies are the arena in which he has worked on some of the mysteries he couldn’t solve on his own. What we experience as sorcery is, for him, a process of exorcism. “I can’t express enough how therapeutic and healthy it is for me to keep doing this job over and over and over again,” he said deliberatively, almost as if he was feeling this out. “I work so much out through this process. So much out. I get to bleed off some of the darkness instead of letting it fester inside me. You get to let it fester inside you.”

A six year old:

As we were getting ready to head over to “Oh, Mary!” Spielberg told me a story about the time his mother’s brother, Bernard, took him and his cousin, Paul, to visit the Lincoln Memorial. It was 1952 or ’53. He would’ve been 6. The three of them climbed the steps. “Suddenly I was standing at the foot of a scary giant,” he recalled. “I remember glancing up and being so terrified I could only look at the hands.” He fixated on how they “were overhanging the armrests” and felt the urge to flee. But something held him back. “When I turned around, I looked up at his face. At this statue. Of Lincoln. A calm washed over me. An instant connection washed over me.” His fear ceased. What arrived in its place was unabated curiosity. He began to read all about Lincoln and started making silhouette cutouts of him, an obsession you can see re-enacted in the opening scene of “Minority Report,” when a child makes a paper mask of Lincoln.

There's much more at the link.

The American Way of War

I've got a short series of posts from awhile back on the American way of war. I decided to add to it with this short conversation with Claude.

* * * * *

American wars since the collapse of the USSR

Give me a chronological list of the wars that America has been involved in since the collapse of the USSR.

The project knowledge touches on this theme thematically but doesn't provide a factual list. Here's a straightforward chronological account from general knowledge, using 1991 (the USSR's formal dissolution) as the starting point:

Gulf War (1991) — Already underway when the USSR collapsed in December; the US-led coalition expelled Iraq from Kuwait. A short, decisive conventional war.

Somalia (1993) — Humanitarian intervention that escalated into urban combat, culminating in the Battle of Mogadishu ("Black Hawk Down").

Haiti (1994) — Military intervention to restore the elected government of Jean-Bertrand Aristide.

Bosnia (1995) — NATO air campaign (Operation Deliberate Force) in which the US played the lead role, ending the Bosnian War.

Kosovo (1999) — NATO air war against Yugoslavia to halt ethnic cleansing; again US-led.

Afghanistan (2001–2021) — Invasion following 9/11, ousting the Taliban; the longest war in American history.

Iraq (2003–2011, then resumed 2014–) — Invasion that toppled Saddam Hussein, followed by a prolonged insurgency. US forces returned in 2014 to fight ISIS and remain in smaller numbers today.

Libya (2011) — US participated in NATO air operations that led to Gaddafi's fall.

Syria / ISIS (2014–present) — Air campaign and special operations forces deployed against the Islamic State across Syria and Iraq.

Iran (2020) — The drone strike killing General Qasem Soleimani; a targeted killing rather than a sustained war, but a direct military act against a state actor.

Yemen (ongoing, indirect)** — The US has provided intelligence, refueling, and arms to the Saudi-led coalition, with direct drone strikes against Al-Qaeda in the Arabian Peninsula.

Iran (2025) — You noted in your War Series writing (with a 2026 addendum) that a Trump-era attack on Iran occurred, which fits this list as the most recent major escalation.

A few observations relevant to your own analytical framework: this list illustrates the pattern you describe in your War Series — the post-Cold War redirection of American aggression outward, particularly toward the Arab/Muslim world as the new "Other" following the loss of the Soviet scapegoat. Nearly every conflict after 1993 takes place in the Islamic world, which tracks your 2014 addendum about the "well-crafted Orientalist mythology of the exotic and crazy Arab Other."

Talcott Parsons 1947

At the heart of that War Series is a 1947 essay by Talcott Parsons, “Certain Primary Sources of Aggression in the Social Structure of the Western World.” I read that early in my undergraduate years at Johns Hopkins. I regard it as speculative, plausible but speculative. How would one gather empirical evidence on it? It’s not like any nation ever announces, “We’re going to war to let off some steam and ease tensions at home?”

That's exactly the right epistemological challenge — the mechanism Parsons proposes operates at the level of collective unconscious motivation, which is precisely what makes it both compelling and resistant to direct verification. But there are several indirect empirical strategies that could build a cumulative case.

Quantitative correlational approaches

The most tractable starting point is looking for statistical relationships between domestic stress indicators and the initiation of military action. You'd want to examine whether wars or significant military escalations cluster after periods of elevated internal tension — economic downturns, spikes in domestic unrest, rising inequality, political polarization indices. The null hypothesis would be that war timing is random with respect to domestic conditions; a systematic pattern would be suggestive. Turchin's work on political stress cycles (his "cliodynamics" project) is actually well-suited to this — he's already built quantitative indices of internal instability across centuries, and one could ask whether war-initiation correlates with his stress peaks.

The "rally around the flag" literature

There's actually a substantial body of political science research on this, though it approaches the question from a slightly different angle. The "rally" effect — the well-documented spike in presidential approval following military action — shows that war does relieve domestic political pressure in measurable ways. John Mueller's work on war and presidential popularity is foundational here. The harder inferential step is from "war relieves pressure" to "anticipated relief motivates war-making," but the effect at least confirms the direction of the mechanism.

Elite communication analysis

Parsons' theory doesn't require that anyone consciously decides to go to war for psychodynamic reasons — the motivation can be largely unconscious and rationalized afterward. This actually makes elite rhetoric more useful as evidence, not less. You'd look for patterns in how war is framed domestically — whether war rhetoric systematically spikes domestic us-versus-them language, whether it correlates with reduced internal scapegoating (your Klinkner & Smith thesis about civil rights gains during wartime), and whether the timing of hawkish escalation by elites tracks with rising domestic discontent. Content analysis of congressional debates, newspaper editorials, and presidential speeches across the full arc of conflicts could reveal structural patterns invisible to any individual case.

The comparative/historical method

Parsons' thesis should predict that nations with other mechanisms for handling internal aggression — stronger corporatist institutions, more robust social contracts, functioning scapegoats already in place — should be less prone to foreign military adventurism. Scandinavian nations, for instance, would be a useful comparison class. You could also look at cases where domestic conditions that should predict war didn't produce it, and ask what was different. The comparative method won't confirm the mechanism, but systematic cross-national patterns would be hard to explain otherwise.

The Klinkner-Smith natural experiment

The civil rights thesis is actually the most testable piece, and as you note in your writing, they've already done substantial work on it. Their finding — that Black Americans' civil rights gains cluster tightly around periods of external military threat — is exactly the kind of pattern that's hard to explain without something like Parsons' mechanism. It's not proof of the psychodynamics, but it's consistent evidence that war functions to redirect internal aggression in measurable ways.

The fundamental limitation

None of this gets you to the causal mechanism Parsons actually proposes — that repressed aggression generated by Western child-rearing practices flows through nationalist scapegoating and finds periodic release in war. That specific chain is probably permanently beyond empirical reach, because the mediating variable (unconscious aggressive impulse at civilizational scale) isn't directly observable. What you can do is show that the functional relationship holds — that war operates as if it were serving this purpose — and that alternative explanations (pure rational calculation of national interest, for instance) leave systematic residuals.

Which is, frankly, roughly where Freudian-influenced social theory in general sits: plausible, structurally coherent, supported by functional evidence, but not falsifiable in any clean Popperian sense. The honest assessment is that Parsons is probably tracking something real but operating at a level of abstraction that empirical social science can approach but not fully close.

The American political system is broken. How can we fix it?

Jerry Cayford has an interesting article in the curren issue of 3 Quarks Daily: Final Five and U.S. Competitiveness.

The opening paragraphs:

California’s primary is in about two weeks, and it’s a mess. The panic is slightly subsiding, though, since Democrats have started polling in one of the top two spots in the race for governor. For months, Republicans were polling first and second, with eight Democrats trailing because they split the vote. The California Democratic Party chair even urged low-polling candidates to drop out so as not to be spoilers.

This can all look like an amusing soap opera. Will the Democrats shoot themselves in the foot, again? But studying it led me to literature I hadn’t found before, coming from a quarter I hadn’t expected: the Harvard Business School (HBS). An HBS study of American economic competitiveness shows that a surprisingly short path leads from an amusing soap opera to the gravest of questions: why is American society failing?

The final paragraph;

Do you want to repair crumbling roads and bridges, lower infant mortality rate, or fix K-12 education? The single most effective remedy is “nonpartisan top-five primaries and ranked choice voting in general elections.” Are you trying to improve health care, life expectancy, or public transportation? Your method is “Final Five Voting.” The powerful message of HBS’s U.S. Competitiveness Project is that electoral reform is our main tool to end dysfunctional politics, strengthen U.S. competitiveness, and stop America’s decline. Want paid leave and walkable cities? Or—updating from 2019 to today—do you seek to compete with China on anything at all, unwind predatory monopolies, or develop more useful, less dangerous artificial intelligence? All of it. The basic aspects of a civilized life. The answer is the same. Put your effort into nonpartisan top-five primaries and ranked choice voting in general elections, aka Final Five Voting.

It's clear to me that we really do need to change the system. Would that work, is it sufficient, a start? Who knows. How do we get there?

Here's a comment I made:

Thinks for this (and the links). You've given me something to think about. I especially like the phrase, “political industrial complex.” That seems exactly right.

Here’s what I’ve been thinking. For all my life I’ve believed that America is a democracy, whatever that is. I’ve been something of a leftist at least since my mid-teens, I marched against the war in Vietnam (and was a conscientious objector); I did not jump for joy when Clinton was elected; but I did manage a little hop when Obama was elected. That didn’t last long. Trump 1 was a disaster. Through all this I kept telling myself: “Yep, we’re still a democracy, still a democracy, yessiree, still a democracy...” And all this time I’d read here and there: “No, America is not, a democracy; it’s an oligarchy ruled by rich people and corporations.”

Trump 2 has got me rethinking. On the one hand, the corruption is so extreme and so naked. That’s one thing. But at the same time we have the rise of AI and the link between AI and the Trump administration through Elon “the world’s richest man” Musk, David Sacks, who was tech advisor to the president until quite recently, and the various entrepreneurs and executives who’ve been glad to kiss the presidential ring. The AI business is tightly controlled by a small group of tech bros (& maybe a woman or two in there somewhere) who control an enormous amount of money. As a result we’ve got an unprecedented concentration of wealth and power around the presidency pumping money through the political industrial complex.

Take that in conjunction with the political industrial complex and it’s beginning to look like the country is one giant board game where the oligarchs are the game players and the rest of us are just pieces on the board (or NPC’s). It’s Plato’s cave reconstructed with 21st century technology. The oligarchs are running a shadow play and we think it’s the real game. It’s not.

Voting for the the craziest SOB

For the uninitiated https://t.co/vXaGmgziSI pic.twitter.com/2CDHNmhfeo

— Liam Donovan (@LPDonovan) January 4, 2021

Trump's accidental triumph in Beijing

That’s the title of the latest edition of Robert Wright’s NonZero Newsletter on Substack. Rather than summarizing and paraphrasing I’m going to reproduce most, but not all, of it in full below the asterisks. In particular, I’m omitting the very end, which is a series of charts showing bipartisan anxiety for AI. I share that anxiety. The title of one of recent columns at 3 Quarks Daily gives you my attitude: The Paradox of Contemporary AI: Engineering Success and Institutional Failure. The anxiety in Wright’s charts is one reflection of that institutional failure.

* * * * *

On Thursday the White House issued a social media post that said simply, “American strength back on the world stage.” You might expect such a post to be accompanied by military imagery—maybe an impressive-looking array of soldiers. And this one was. But the soldiers weren’t American. Smartly clad People’s Liberation Army troops, part of the pageantry that had greeted Trump in Beijing, were featured in the opening montage of a video that then showed Trump shaking hands with President Xi Jinping and ended with the two leaders walking side by side on a red carpet.

Apparently the unipolar moment is over. Being one of the world’s two main poles is, these days, the highest geopolitical aspiration of America’s president. “It’s the two great countries,” Trump proudly told Sean Hannity in an interview that aired on Fox News after the US-China summit ended. “I call it the G-2. This is the G-2.”

The US foreign policy establishment was less effusive than Trump about G-2 membership. A Washington Post headline said: “China summit yields Xi’s goal—equal footing with U.S.,” and the subhead added that “the image of peer superpowers during President Trump’s visit displayed a dynamic that analysts say the Chinese have long sought and Americans had resisted.” The analyst quoted by the Post, a Biden administration national security staffer, said that Xi, using “the opulent optics of the visit,” had managed to do something “Chinese leaders have been working toward for decades”—he had made it “clear to the world that China and the United States are the two dominant, equally matched superpowers. There is no going back.”

New York Times reporter David Sanger, the dean of Blob [foreign policy establishment] scribes, also depicted the summit as a kind of comedown for America. Whereas Trump was “conciliatory,” Sanger wrote, Xi was “quietly more confrontational,” projecting a “new level of confidence and authority.” In particular: Xi had, according to a Chinese foreign ministry statement, privately warned Trump that “the US must handle the Taiwan issue with utmost caution” if it didn’t want to wind up in a conflict.

Meanwhile, as Xi was drawing red lines, Trump, Sanger noted in a subsequent co-authored piece, was spending his time calling Xi a “great leader” and saying that a garden where the two men strolled contained “the most beautiful roses anyone’s ever seen.” All of this showed, according to Sanger, “how far he has shifted the foundations of American policy toward China in the wake of his humbling retreat from last year’s trade war. He has thrown aside the adversarial approach of his first years in office, the Biden administration, and the beginning of his own second term.”

Works for me! Then again, I’ve always been a sucker for peaceful coexistence. Besides, the non-zero-sum problems that the US and China need to solve are increasingly urgent, and a pleasant stroll in the garden can be conducive to cooperation. In fact, this week the two nations agreed to start a dialogue on AI safety. For now they’re focusing mainly on ways to keep non-state actors from putting AI to malign uses. That agenda will likely grow as the magnitude of the AI issue becomes more evident and the inherently international nature of many AI threats does, too. But for now it’s enough that, as Treasury Secretary Scott Bessent put it, “the two AI superpowers are going to start talking.”

I think I’d go even further than Sanger in stressing the magnitude of this moment. Trump has “shifted the foundations” not just of “American policy toward China” but of American foreign policy globally. And at the moment, at least, this shift looks auspicious.

Before elaborating, I should emphasize that I’m not calling Trump a visionary. The new and improved foreign policy that I hope is unfolding will, if it unfolds, be one that Trump has more or less stumbled into—and will be different from the one he was pursuing when he started stumbling. Contingency plays a big role in history, and reckless leaders like Trump are particularly good at illustrating that.

* * * * *

That’s not the end of Wright’s discussion of the implications of Trump’s accidental triumph. But it’s the main story. I’ll end by quoting Wright’s last two paragraphs.

One thing standing in the way of my dream scenario—a world where the US and China and the world’s other nations cooperate to solve problems they collectively face—is Trump’s aversion to international governance. China under Xi plays a more active role in international institutions than the US under Trump, and Xi talks more about “win-win” outcomes than Trump, who is famously inclined to see life in zero-sum terms.

Still, he emitted fewer zero-sum vibes this week than he often does. Indeed, inherent in the idea of “G-2” is sustained cooperation between the two superpowers. So maybe Trump has more in the way of non-zero-sum impulses than is commonly recognized, and they just need to be nurtured. And maybe it would help if the New York Times and the Washington Post and much of the foreign policy establishment quit giving him negative feedback every time he expresses them.

 * * * * *

BONUS: Check out Wright's recent discussion with Zhengyu Huang, author of the new book Rethinking China.

0:00 Teaser
0:34 Zhengyu’s tech background and new book, Rethinking China
3:00 What kind of threat is China, really?
10:06 How trading with China transformed America
16:51 The stakes of the chip war
22:02 Will tech war lead to real war?
30:33 The US-China escalation spiral and Taiwan
39:13 “Researching while Chinese”: the new Red Scare?
49:46 Heading to Overtime

Ishmael Reed takes on the Tech Bros

David Streitfeld, Elon Musk and Friends in the Den of Oakland’s Literary Lion, NYTimes, May 14, 2026.

Fourth paragraph:

Mr. Reed, a novelist, playwright and provocateur who has been upsetting opinions across the political spectrum for at least six decades, is aiming high with a new drama. “King Ludd’s Revenge” is a rare attempt to take on the tech moguls with something more than mere journalism.

Later:

Mr. Reed, a novelist, playwright and provocateur who has been upsetting opinions across the political spectrum for at least six decades, is aiming high with a new drama. “King Ludd’s Revenge” is a rare attempt to take on the tech moguls with something more than mere journalism.

“Instead of a straight narrative, I improvise,” the 88-year-old writer said. “It’s like Louis Armstrong singing ‘Stardust.’ He doesn’t do it the way it’s written.”

Oakland is poorer, Blacker and more maligned than San Francisco and Silicon Valley, both of which are just across the bridges that span the Bay. Having the trial here happened at random — Mr. Musk’s lawsuit against Mr. Altman and the company they founded together, OpenAI, was filed in San Francisco and assigned to the federal court in Oakland — but feels a little like one of those episodes where the Greek gods descend to mundane Earth to settle a dispute.

Mr. Reed, an Oakland resident who has celebrated and defended the city for decades, may be the only one in town noticing who’s here. “Everybody’s focused on the N.B.A. playoffs,” he explained.

“King Ludd’s Revenge” takes its title from the legendary leader of the workers’ revolt in England in the early 19th century. With the ascent of A.I., the Luddites have come back into fashion. The play begins with Mr. Musk receiving a pedicure from a robot. Peter Thiel, the tech billionaire who backed President Trump in 2016, bursts into the room. “I think I’ve identified the leader of the Anti-Christ Syndicate,” he says.

Mr. Musk: “Who might that be?”

Mr. Thiel: “Greta Thunberg.”

Mr. Musk: “That girl who leads the environmental movement? That’s ridiculous. The Bible says the Anti-Christ is a beast with seven heads.”

Mr. Thiel: “She’s the most prominent head, don’t you see? The heads represent hippies, multiculturalism, identity politics, woke, one-world state, Barack Obama and the 19th Amendment. This is the Beast that decelerated our progress. This is why there has been no cure for cancer or Alzheimer’s.”

Adolf Hitler, on a two-day pass from Hell, shows up next. The play is a work in progress.

Near the end:

Mr. Musk claims 240 million followers on X, his social media platform, and has a fortune approaching $1 trillion. Mr. Reed’s primary publisher is now in Canada. His biggest asset is his house, which is pleasantly stuffed with books. The street used to have several drug dens; now it is upper middle class.

“I’m a Black guy living in North Oakland, writing about titans — people who live on Mount Olympus,” he said. He listened to some of the trial on an audio feed. He thought of Shakespeare, specifically “Titus Andronicus.”

“That play is about revenge,” Mr. Reed said. “And cannibalism. These tech people want to devour each other.”

Mr. Altman may be the guy in control of the most significant A.I. company, but Mr. Reed finds him rather flat as dramatic material.

Mr. Musk is different.

“I don’t find him amusing in real life, but he’s amusing in my play,” Mr. Reed said. “I started this because I read that 14 million people will possibly die because Elon Musk ended U.S.A.I.D. It took the Nazis maybe five or six years to accomplish that.” Mr. Reed acknowledged that his humor is very dark.

And so it goes. There's much more at the link.

Trump is hell-bent on nuking America back to the Stone Age

OK, OK, I get it. That statement is exaggerated and misleading. The Stone Age is too far back, 1960 will do. He’s not using nukes, he’s using oil and coal. And he’s doing considerable damage in the process.

Thomas Edsall has a long article on the subject – all his articles are long – in today’s New York Times, “Trump Is Fighting the World’s Stupidest Culture War,” May 12, 2026. His opening salvo: “On the day our oil-stained president returned to the White House, he began an all-out assault on clean energy. Today, 16 months later, he and his party are paying a significant political price while American consumers are stuck with the bill.”

Edsall goes on:

That bill, according to one scholarly estimate, totals $1,508 per household since President Trump took office for the second time (in after-tax dollars). And as the president does not need reminding, that’s with the congressional elections six months away and the cost of living the voters’ top concern.

As if that were not enough, these same voters, when they fill up their cars, are confronting the costs of Trump’s choice to go to war with Iran, at a national average of $4.52 a gallon — that’s $90.40 for a 20-gallon tank.

Trump has severely, but not fatally, wounded the American renewable energy industry, which is falling further behind China. At the same time, he is doling out tax dollars by the millions to keep dilapidated coal-fired power plants open.

That’s Edsall’s introduction. The rest of his article adds detail upon disgusting detail.

What’s it all about? According to one expert, Leah Stokes, a professor at the University of California-Santa Barbara, it’s all about the Benjamins:

The big story here is corruption. Trump is doing the bidding of the fossil fuel industry and enriching his friends because they got him elected.

I cannot fathom why else he’s keeping open these old, dirty, expensive coal plants that were otherwise slated to close in places like Michigan. Someone is getting very rich off these decisions, and everyday Americans are paying the price.

That’s how it is with Agent 47, who has inverted John F. Kennedy’s exhortation from his inaugural address: “Ask not what your country can do for you — ask what you can do for your country.” Agent 47’s revision: “Ask not what you can do for your country – grasp greedily for all your country provide for you.”

Well into the article, Edsall reports:

...not only is the United States falling way behind China on energy, but that the United States is becoming increasingly dependent on China. As a result, Atlas continued:

The strength of Chinese manufacturing and innovation in many parts of the clean energy supply chain, including battery components and solar components, means countries are increasingly reliant on China.

Policies that discourage clean energy manufacturing and deployment in the United States risk weakening the country’s position in the global clean energy supply chain, creating space for China to consolidate its market leadership.

As the old saying goes, with friends like this, who needs enemies. To quote that great philosopher, Pogo the Possum, “We have met the enemy and he is us.”

Edsall’s list of depredations and stupidities goes on and on. Here’s another:

A key element of Trump’s reward to oil companies for their contribution to his and other Republican campaigns has been his effort to cripple the electric vehicle industry.

In doing so, Trump is trashing free-market principles treasured by traditional conservative Republicans. He has adopted a MAGA industrial policy that goes beyond government propping up one group of special interests to include a deliberate effort to snuff out competing industries.

Julie McNamara, federal energy policy director at the Union of Concerned Scientists, wrote by email that Trump, simply on the basis of personal grievances and political ideology, “is ceding opportunity after opportunity for the U.S. to be a leader in the global clean energy transition, and all the benefits such leadership can afford.”

Edsall’s conclusion:

Where does all this leave the country?

Stuck with a president committed to policies that amount to national self-sabotage, a man driven by personal grievance and reckless promises to campaign contributors, devoid of any real concern for America’s long-term energy needs.

The power of the Presidency has allowed Trump to become a prisoner of his appetites and grievances.