Category Archives: Reviews

Artificial Intelligence, Essays, Politics, Reviews, War

Review: AI, Apathy, and the Arsenal of Democracy

Dexter Filkins is a Pulitzer Prize-winning American journalist and author, known for his extensive reporting on the wars in Afghanistan and Iraq. He is currently a staff writer for The New Yorker and the author of the book “The Forever War“, which chronicles his experiences reporting from these conflict zones. 

Is the United States truly ready for the seismic shift in modern warfare—a transformation that The New Yorker‘s veteran war correspondent describes not as evolution but as rupture? In “Is the U.S. Ready for the Next War?” (July 14, 2025), Dexter Filkins captures this tectonic realignment through a mosaic of battlefield reportage, strategic insight, and ethical reflection. His central thesis is both urgent and unsettling: that America, long mythologized for its martial supremacy, is culturally and institutionally unprepared for the emerging realities of war. The enemy is no longer just a rival state but also time itself—conflict is being rewritten in code, and the old machines can no longer keep pace.

The piece opens with a gripping image: a Ukrainian drone factory producing a thousand airborne machines daily, each costing just $500. Improvised, nimble, and devastating, these drones have inflicted disproportionate damage on Russian forces. Their success signals a paradigm shift—conflict has moved from regiments to swarms, from steel to software. Yet the deeper concern is not merely technological; it is cultural. The article is less a call to arms than a call to reimagine. Victory in future wars, it suggests, will depend not on weaponry alone, but on judgment, agility, and a conscience fit for the digital age.

Speed and Fragmentation: The Collision of Cultures

At the heart of the analysis lies a confrontation between two worldviews. On one side stands Silicon Valley—fast, improvisational, and software-driven. On the other: the Pentagon—layered, cautious, and locked in Cold War-era processes. One of the central figures is Palmer Luckey, the founder of the defense tech company Anduril, depicted as a symbol of insurgent innovation. Once a video game prodigy, he now leads teams designing autonomous weapons that can be manufactured as quickly as IKEA furniture and deployed without extensive oversight. His world thrives on rapid iteration, where warfare is treated like code—modular, scalable, and adaptive.

This approach clashes with the military’s entrenched bureaucracy. Procurement cycles stretch for years. Communication between service branches remains fractured. Even American ships and planes often operate on incompatible systems. A war simulation over Taiwan underscores this dysfunction: satellites failed to coordinate with aircraft, naval assets couldn’t link with space-based systems, and U.S. forces were paralyzed by their own institutional fragmentation. The problem wasn’t technology—it was organization.

What emerges is a portrait of a defense apparatus unable to act as a coherent whole. The fragmentation stems from a structure built for another era—one that now privileges process over flexibility. In contrast, adversaries operate with fluidity, leveraging technological agility as a force multiplier. Slowness, once a symptom of deliberation, has become a strategic liability.

The tension explored here is more than operational; it is civilizational. Can a democratic state tolerate the speed and autonomy now required in combat? Can institutions built for deliberation respond in milliseconds? These are not just questions of infrastructure, but of governance and identity. In the coming conflicts, latency may be lethal, and fragmentation fatal.

Imagination Under Pressure: Lessons from History

To frame the stakes, the essay draws on powerful historical precedents. Technological transformation has always arisen from moments of existential pressure: Prussia’s use of railways to reimagine logistics, the Gulf War’s precision missiles, and, most profoundly, the Manhattan Project. These were not the products of administrative order but of chaotic urgency, unleashed imagination, and institutional risk-taking.

During the Manhattan Project, multiple experimental paths were pursued simultaneously, protocols were bent, and innovation surged from competition. Today, however, America’s defense culture has shifted toward procedural conservatism. Risk is minimized; innovation is formalized. Bureaucracy may protect against error, but it also stifles the volatility that made American defense dynamic in the past.

This critique extends beyond the military. A broader cultural stagnation is implied: a nation that fears disruption more than defeat. If imagination is outsourced to private startups—entities beyond the reach of democratic accountability—strategic coherence may erode. Tactical agility cannot compensate for an atrophied civic center. The essay doesn’t argue for scrapping government institutions, but for reigniting their creative core. Defense must not only be efficient; it must be intellectually alive.

Machines, Morality, and the Shrinking Space for Judgment

Perhaps the most haunting dimension of the essay lies in its treatment of ethics. As autonomous systems proliferate—from loitering drones to AI-driven targeting software—the space for human judgment begins to vanish. Some militaries, like Israel’s, still preserve a “human-in-the-loop” model where a person retains final authority. But this safeguard is fragile. The march toward autonomy is relentless.

The implications are grave. When decisions to kill are handed to algorithms trained on probability and sensor data, who bears responsibility? Engineers? Programmers? Military officers? The author references DeepMind’s Demis Hassabis, who warns of the ease with which powerful systems can be repurposed for malign ends. Yet the more chilling possibility is not malevolence, but moral atrophy: a world where judgment is no longer expected or practiced.

Combat, if rendered frictionless and remote, may also become civically invisible. Democratic oversight depends on consequence—and when warfare is managed through silent systems and distant screens, that consequence becomes harder to feel. A nation that no longer confronts the human cost of its defense decisions risks sliding into apathy. Autonomy may bring tactical superiority, but also ethical drift.

Throughout, the article avoids hysteria, opting instead for measured reflection. Its central moral question is timeless: Can conscience survive velocity? In wars of machines, will there still be room for the deliberation that defines democratic life?

The Republic in the Mirror: A Final Reflection

The closing argument is not tactical, but philosophical. Readiness, the essay insists, must be measured not just by stockpiles or software, but by the moral posture of a society—its ability to govern the tools it creates. Military power divorced from democratic deliberation is not strength, but fragility. Supremacy must be earned anew, through foresight, imagination, and accountability.

The challenge ahead is not just to match adversaries in drones or data, but to uphold the principles that give those tools meaning. Institutions must be built to respond, but also to reflect. Weapons must be precise—but judgment must be present. The republic’s defense must operate at the speed of code while staying rooted in the values of a self-governing people.

The author leaves us with a final provocation: The future will not wait for consensus—but neither can it be left to systems that have forgotten how to ask questions. In this, his work becomes less a study in strategy than a meditation on civic responsibility. The real arsenal is not material—it is ethical. And readiness begins not in the factories of drones, but in the minds that decide when and why to use them.

THIS ESSAY REVIEW WAS WRITTEN BY AI AND EDITED BY INTELLICUREAN.

Arts & Literature, Books, Essays, History, Reviews

Essay: The Imperative of Art in Dark Times

The Aesthetics of Resistance, Volume III
A Novel. Author: Peter Weiss; Translator: Joel Scott

The following essay was written by AI and edited by Intellicurean:

One often hears that art is a refuge from the storm, a quaint hermitage for the sensitive soul. But when the storm is a veritable tempest of tyranny, what then? Must beauty shrink to a whispered metaphor, or can it, with a flourish, confront the grotesque, form itself a weapon, and memory its shield? Peter Weiss, the German-Swedish playwright and novelist, perhaps best known for his provocative Marat/Sade, offers an unflinching answer in his masterwork, The Aesthetics of Resistance. This three-volume novel—published between 1975 and 1981, and only recently fully translated into English by Joel Scott for Verso Books—presents not merely a chronicle of Europe’s descent into fascism, but an audacious theory of survival, contemplation, and rebellion through the very act of art.

In a perceptive recent essay for Liberties Journal, Jared Marcel Pollen explores the novel’s radical scope, elegantly correcting a common misattribution of a pivotal political aphorism. Not Lenin, but Maxim Gorky, Pollen reveals, claimed that “aesthetics was [his] ethics—the ethics of the future.” More than a mere historical footnote, this elegantly salvaged reversal encapsulates the novel’s very governing spirit: that beauty, far from being a retreat from political crisis, is its very precondition for meaning, that art does not merely ornament truth, but, with a surgical precision, it excavates it.

A Chronicle of Darkness and Light

The Aesthetics of Resistance unfolds in the shadow of Europe’s unraveling, commencing in 1937, as Hitler consolidates power and Stalin’s purges silence dissent. The narrative spans the years up to 1942—a period that Hannah Arendt once called “midnight in the century.” But unlike conventional historical fiction, Weiss offers no linear tale of protagonists moving toward neat resolution. Instead, he crafts a philosophical Hades-wanderung—a relentless descent through betrayal, failed revolutions, ideological fracture, and the wreckage of cultural inheritance.

The text itself resists easy consumption. Its dense, paragraphless pages—walls of syntax without clear beginning or end—mirror the labyrinthine realities its characters inhabit. In an interview with The New York Times, translator Joel Scott remarked that reading Weiss is like “being submerged in consciousness,” and likened the novel’s structure to a frieze: a continuous mural of intellect, grief, and memory. This relentless, frieze-like form compels the reader to engage with history not as a series of discrete events, but as an overwhelming, cumulative force, a continuous present of trauma and resistance. The novel is as much a meditation on how we perceive history as it is on history itself.

Learning as Rebellion: The Proletarian Bildungsroman

At its core, The Aesthetics of Resistance is a Bildungsroman—a novel of education and formation. But it defiantly eschews the genre’s traditional bourgeois framework. This is no Goethe’s Wilhelm Meister or Joyce’s Stephen Dedalus spiraling through self-inquiry in cloistered academic halls. Weiss’s narrator—working-class, gentile, unnamed—does not wander through elite libraries or university quads. Instead, he and his comrades read Dante, study Greek sculpture, and debate Marxist theory in factory basements and kitchens, under constant threat of arrest or worse.

This autodidacticism—the practice of self-teaching—is not a mere supplement to formal education but a radical replacement. The narrator declares early on: “Our most important goal was to conquer an education… by using any means, cunning and strength of mind.” Their knowledge is not earned; it is stolen—like Promethean fire—from the guarded sanctums of official culture. This echoes Friedrich Schiller’s view in On the Aesthetic Education of Man (1795) that beauty cultivates moral freedom, acting as a safeguard against the dehumanizing mechanisms of state power. Indeed, in a totalitarian state that mutilates truth and simplifies human experience, the very act of preserving intellectual complexity – a core tenet of Weiss’s autodidacts – becomes, as Susan Sontag argued in “On Style,” an ethical stance in itself, an insistence on the primacy of certain values. In Weiss’s hands, this ethic becomes urgently, tragically manifest.

Art at the Crossroads: Form, Violence, and Hope

The profound question that animates Weiss’s project is not simply how to survive violence, but how to perceive it. What happens to art, to the very faculty of perception, when the world collapses into brutality? One compelling answer emerges in the novel’s early scene at the Pergamon Altar, a Hellenistic frieze of the Gigantomachy—a mythic war between gods and giants—housed in Berlin’s museum. As Nazi banners flutter outside, the young resisters look upon this magnificent fragment of antiquity and see not quaint myth, but relentless struggle. They interpret the contorted figures as symbols of class war, reclaiming the altar from its imminent fascist cooptation.

This interpretive act—the deliberate reading “against the grain”—is both aesthetic and political, a defiant reconstitution of meaning. It echoes Walter Benjamin’s chilling thesis that “there is no document of civilization that is not at the same time a document of barbarism.” Indeed, as Pollen writes with chilling precision, the Nazis, in their grotesque appropriation of classical forms, hollowed them into “plaster emptiness.” Weiss’s characters do the opposite: they revive these ancient forms by placing them in urgent dialogue with their own suffering, thus universalizing the struggle against domination, making the “mass of stone” a value “belonging to anyone who steps in front of it.”

The novel closes with a powerful meditation on Picasso’s Guernica, his monumental canvas depicting the bombing of the Basque town in 1937. The painting, the narrator insists, does not merely show war—it registers “an assault on the ability to express things.” Guernica marks a new kind of aesthetic task: not only must art represent horror, it must endure it. The painting outlasts its own referent, becoming what philosopher Elaine Scarry once called “a durable object,” an artifact that shelters memory and meaning long after political systems fall and the bombs cease to drop. In Alfonso Cuarón’s bleakly prescient dystopian film Children of Men (2006), Guernica appears, almost unnoticed, in the sterile interior of a government building—a poignant token of lost humanity. This, precisely, is Weiss’s abiding fear: that without the active labor of interpretation, without the human will to engage, even the greatest artistic achievements become mere decor, robbed of their subversive potential.

Witness and Memory: The Imaginative Faculty as Resistance

Some may, of course, recoil, finding The Aesthetics of Resistance too cerebral, too demanding, perhaps even too… Germanic, to resonate beyond the intellectual class. It’s a fair, if somewhat lazy, concern. And yet, as Timothy Snyder so chillingly reminds us in On Tyranny, fascism thrives precisely when the imagination is starved—when complexity gives way to cliché, when memory is replaced by manufactured myth.

Weiss’s project is a counteroffensive. His characters repeatedly ask, with desperate sincerity: “What does the Divina Commedia have to do with our lives?” In posing the question, they model the very activity the novel enacts—bridging distant beauty with present suffering. As Pollen notes, Weiss is not proposing simplistic analogies between then and now, but calling us to maintain the capacity for analogy—the capacity to perceive echoes and derive moral relevance from history, an imaginative act in itself.

Art, then, is not escapism. It is a form of mnemonic defense, a profound act of spiritual preservation. Horst Heilmann, a real historical figure and one of the novel’s central martyrs, declares: “All art… all literature are present inside ourselves, under the aegis of the only deity we can believe in—Mnemosyne”—Memory, mother of the Muses. Here Weiss evokes a stunning theological shift: divinity no longer lies in revelation, but in remembrance. Not in salvation, but in reckoning. Weiss shares this ethos with writers like W.G. Sebald and Toni Morrison, both of whom insisted that literature’s task is not to uplift, but to testify. In her Nobel lecture, Morrison described language as “the measure of our lives,” and warned that its decay is the first sign of cultural amnesia. Weiss anticipates this danger, and his novel becomes a fortress of form against forgetting.

Style as Weapon, Not Ornament

Perhaps the greatest gauntlet Weiss throws down, the element that still most sharply divides critics, is his distinctive style. The novel’s paragraphs can stretch for pages. There is no chapter division, no conventional dialogue, and barely a linear plot. But this excess is deliberate. As George Steiner observed in The New Yorker, Weiss “wanted his novel to resist readability as a form of moral laziness.” This is not to suggest the novel is obscure for its own sake, a mere affectation of difficulty. Rather, its very form embodies its thesis: the reader’s discomfort, the laborious trek through its unbroken syntax, becomes an echo of the characters’ own relentless, desperate struggle for meaning amidst chaos. Like Thomas Bernhard, whose relentless monologic fury shapes Correction and Extinction, Weiss denies literary comfort. Instead, he offers friction, density, and dissonance—qualities perfectly befitting a narrative of clandestine, underground resistance, where truth arrives not through effortless clarity but through sheer, unyielding persistence. In his study The Work of Literature, philosopher Peter Szondi described literature as a form that must “carry contradiction inside itself.” Weiss takes this principle further: contradiction is not a flaw but a crucial feature of truly resistant art. The reader’s discomfort, then, is the novel’s ethical demand.

Toward the Future: A Testament Against Forgetting

Weiss died in 1982, a year after completing his trilogy. In a rare interview that year with Der Spiegel, he confessed that his greatest fear was not censorship but irrelevance—that art would become mute in the face of spectacle. That fear feels chillingly prescient. As Western democracies flirt again with the seductive sirens of authoritarianism, and as history is re-scripted by those who profit from collective forgetting, The Aesthetics of Resistance emerges not merely as literature but as an instruction manual for endurance.

Its lessons are not limited to Germany or the 1930s. They resonate in Chile’s brutal reckoning with Pinochet, in the defiant murals of Belfast, in the urgent poetry of Mahmoud Darwish, and in the resolute chants of Tehran’s women today. Where brutality seeks silence, art insists on form—on surviving and shaping what was meant to be annihilated.

Weiss leaves us with a final, searing proposition: Imagination lives as long as resistance lives. And when resistance ends—when truth is reduced to slogan, when memory collapses into myth—then imagination, too, begins to die. But while a single reader still labors through his walls of text, still stands before the Pergamon frieze and refuses to see mere stone, Weiss’s profound vision endures. This is the essence of The Aesthetics of Resistance: not to comfort, but to compel. Not to promise victory, but to remind us that moral clarity comes not from slogans, but from study. And that to understand the past is not merely to remember—it is, in the most profound sense, to resist the future that forgets it.

Books, Essays, Philosophy, Reviews

The Dangerous Clarity, and Disquieting Tremors, of René Descartes

The following essay was written by AI and edited by Intellicurean.

René Descartes once promised a world rebuilt on certainty. Strip away all illusions, he said, and we might begin again—this time on solid ground. For centuries, he has been honored as a liberator of reason. But what if the revolution he sparked came not from clarity, but confusion?

Sandrine Parageauis professor of early modern British history at Sorbonne University in Paris, France. She is the author of The Paradoxes of Ignorance in Early Modern England and France (2023).

In her recent Aeon essay, “The French Liar,” historian Sandrine Parageau reintroduces Descartes not as the serene founder of modern philosophy, but as a figure who provoked psychological vertigo in his readers and existential dread among his contemporaries. Rather than a clear-eyed rationalist, he appears here as an unsettling alchemist of doubt—one whose method seemed, to some, less like reason and more like manipulation.

A towering figure in intellectual history, Descartes (1596-1650) famously declared, “Cogito, ergo sum”—I think, therefore I am. His Discourse on the Method and Meditations on First Philosophy laid the groundwork for modern science, yet they also disoriented many of his peers. Parageau reveals that, far from being universally hailed, Descartes was condemned by some as a dangerous deceiver. These accusations, initially paradoxical against the architect of systematic reason, become, under Parageau’s scrutiny, a mirror reflecting the profound anxieties of a society on the cusp of modernity.

The Discomfort of Radical Doubt

With almost surgical precision, Descartes urged his readers to divest themselves of all prior opinions, prejudices, and “false knowledge”—to undergo what he called “hyperbolical doubt.” Only by demolishing inherited beliefs, he argued, could one rebuild on indubitable foundations. Parageau highlights how this radical intellectual purification, though meant to be temporary, was viewed by many 17th-century thinkers as dangerous. It wasn’t just a methodological reset; it felt like a descent into cognitive vertigo.

Recent scholarship has begun to echo this emotional reading of Cartesian skepticism. Jan Forsman, in his 2021 dissertation Of Dreams, Demons, and Whirlpools, contends that Descartes’s doubt was not merely a tool, but a lived, transformative experience meant to disorient before it could rebuild. His approach aligns with Parageau’s interpretation of Descartes not as a detached logician, but as a man whose method required emotional unmooring.

Christia Mercer, in her groundbreaking 2017 article “Descartes’ Debt to Teresa of Ávila,” suggests that Descartes may have borrowed from mystical traditions that emphasized introspective purgation—further embedding emotion into method. The Cartesian self, it turns out, may not have emerged from reason alone, but from something more elemental and uncertain.

The Accusation of Manipulation

One of the most vivid condemnations came from Meric Casaubon, who in a 1668 letter accused Descartes of constructing a philosophy that first annihilated belief, only to restore it through rhetorical domination. Casaubon accused Descartes of promoting ignorance as the pathway to the mysterious grandeur of the Cogito, dragging readers into despair before lifting them back with persuasive flair. “He casts down, and raises again, when they see cause,” Casaubon warned, likening Descartes to a puppet master of the intellect.

Parageau draws a chilling parallel between this 17th-century critique and the modern phenomenon of gaslighting—the psychological manipulation by which one is made to doubt their own sanity. Dutch theologian Martin Schoock was even more explicit in his 1643 Admirable Method, warning that Descartes’s system would lead to “mental disorder,” as it required “putting off the light of reason” and embracing ignorance. What Descartes called meditation, Schoock acidly dismissed as “doing nothing.”

For Casaubon and Schoock, the philosopher’s aim was not liberation, but domination. Descartes’s rigorous doubt appeared, from this angle, as an epistemic trap—a means to unmoor the mind only to reanchor it in his authority. It’s a startling idea: that the father of rationalism was seen by some as an emotional manipulator, wielding confusion as a tool of influence.

Religious and Intellectual Backlash

But such critiques were not merely philosophical. They were deeply rooted in the turbulent religious context of post-Reformation Europe. Descartes’s adversaries often likened his tactics to those of the Roman Catholic Church, which Protestants accused of maintaining clerical control through the suppression of lay understanding.

Parageau reminds us that these condemnations were colored by sectarian conflict. Casaubon aligned Descartes with both Puritans and Jesuits—groups seen as enemies by many Protestant intellectuals. The stakes were theological: Descartes’s critics feared his system lacked the means to support key Christian doctrines, like the soul’s immortality or the existence of God.

Steven Nadler, in recent lectures, has emphasized how Descartes’s method emerged in a time of crumbling metaphysical certainties and escalating religious anxiety. His dismantling of scholastic traditions felt, to many, like a spiritual as well as intellectual provocation.

Even those who admired Descartes’s scientific prowess were uneasy about his religious implications. As Parageau notes, English Protestants of the late 17th century often lauded his mechanics while warning against his metaphysics. His emphasis on method over received wisdom was viewed not merely as innovation, but as insurrection.

The Emotional Roots of Rationality

Here lies Parageau’s most powerful insight. Descartes, she argues, was not coldly analytical, but emotionally raw. His philosophy did not spring from dispassionate logic, but from crisis. As a young man, he discovered the teachings of his youth to be riddled with error. This epiphany caused what biographer Adrien Baillet called “violent agitations” and “psychological distress.”

Parageau, drawing on Tristan Dagron’s interpretation, connects this upheaval to a series of dreams Descartes experienced in 1619—dreams so disturbing that he later modeled his Meditations after them. These dreams blurred the boundaries between wakefulness and delusion, instilling a terror that would echo throughout his philosophical system.

Michel Foucault once argued, in Madness and Civilization, that Descartes expelled madness from the domain of reason. But new interpretations suggest otherwise. Instead of excluding madness, Descartes began from it. Forsman, Mercer, and others point to a method rooted in the very vulnerability it sought to overcome.

Susan James, in her work Passion and Action, has argued that Cartesian philosophy requires the management, not the elimination, of passion. The purification Descartes demanded was emotional as much as intellectual.

A Disquieting Foundation

Parageau concludes that Descartes’s critics were not entirely wrong: his philosophy did produce epistemic anxiety. But where they saw danger, she sees a more nuanced truth. Descartes embraced doubt, disorientation, even a kind of madness—not to harm, but to transform. His rational edifice was not built upon peace of mind, but upon its very rupture. In this, he resembles not a manipulator, but a figure more complex: part mystic, part surgeon, part exile from certainty.

We have long imagined Descartes as the calm architect of modernity. But as Parageau and recent scholars reveal, his foundations were laid atop psychological fault lines. The search for clarity began not with answers, but with tremors. And from that trembling ground, he built a system that still shapes how we think today.

Essays, Opinion, Podcasts, Politics, Reviews

Liberal Dissent: “What Happens After Reason?”

The following essay is a review of the “More From Sam” podcast titled: “Democracy, Populism, Wealth Inequality, News-Induced Anxiety, & Rapid Fire Questions”. It was written by AI and edited by Intellicurean.

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“Those who can make you believe absurdities, can make you commit atrocities.”
—Voltaire

Sam Harris’s More From Sam podcast has long stood out as a calm, reasoned voice in a world increasingly shaped by outrage and misinformation. In his July 8, 2025 episode—“Democracy, Populism, Wealth Inequality, News-Induced Anxiety, & Rapid Fire Questions”—Harris returns to familiar ground, tackling the unraveling of liberal values in an age of emotional politics and tribal division. What he offers isn’t comfort, but clarity.

From the start, the episode takes on the loss of public discernment. Harris points to the obsession with conspiracy theories like the endlessly speculated Epstein “client list” or the Pentagon’s baffling explanation that some UFO sightings were the result of hazing rituals. These aren’t just oddities to Harris—they’re symptoms of a deeper cultural problem: a public so overwhelmed by distraction and distrust that fantasy starts to feel like truth.

Harris approaches these problems methodically. His message is simple but sobering: we’ve become more interested in emotional comfort than in facts, and more drawn to spectacle than to skepticism. That message might remind listeners of Voltaire, who famously fought against dogma with wit and courage. Harris doesn’t use satire—his tone is more restrained—but his purpose is similar: to defend reason when it’s under threat.

One of the episode’s strongest points is its framing of liberal democracy as a system designed not to be perfect, but to fix itself. Harris draws from philosopher Karl Popper’s idea of the “open society”—a society that can learn from its mistakes and adapt. That kind of flexibility, Harris argues, is being lost—not through dictatorship, but through the erosion of reason from within.

One of his main concerns is how some well-meaning liberals end up defending illiberal ideas. He warns that in the name of inclusion or tolerance, we can lose sight of core liberal values like free speech and open debate. This critique often appears in discussions around campus culture or global politics, and while it’s a theme Harris has returned to before, he insists it remains vital. Protecting liberal ideals sometimes means saying no—even when it’s uncomfortable.

When it comes to immigration, Harris raises tough questions. He suggests more rigorous ideological screening—using digital research, even green card revocation in extreme cases—to guard against threats to secular democracy. He draws a striking analogy between admitting Islamists and admitting Nazis, not to provoke, but to highlight what he sees as a dangerous inconsistency. The comparison is sharp and may turn some listeners away, but it reflects Harris’s commitment to intellectual honesty, even when it’s uncomfortable.

The second half of the episode shifts to populism, which Harris sees not just as anger at elites, but as a deeper rejection of standards and truth. He criticizes media personalities like Tucker Carlson and Candace Owens, calling them “outdoor cats” who roam wherever they like without much care for accuracy. In Harris’s view, they aren’t promoting ideas—they’re selling outrage.

There’s a dark humor in how Harris presents some of this—like the absurdity of the Pentagon’s “hazing” theory—but overall, his tone is serious. He’s less interested in jokes than in showing how far off track our public conversations have drifted.

Still, Harris has blind spots. When he discusses economic inequality, he acknowledges the problem but quickly dismisses progressive solutions like public grocery stores or eliminating billionaires as “crazy Marxist things.” That quick rejection may leave listeners wanting more. The frustration behind those ideas is real, and even if the proposals are extreme, they speak to growing inequality that Harris doesn’t fully explore. His alternative—”the best version of capitalism we can achieve”—sounds good, but he offers little detail about how to get there.

In moments like these, Harris can come across as a bit detached. His claim that the modern middle class lives better than aristocrats once did is probably true in terms of data—but it’s not always helpful to people dealing with rent hikes or medical bills. Reason, Harris believes, can guide us through today’s chaos. But reason doesn’t always provide comfort.

That’s the deeper tension at the heart of this episode. Harris is clear-headed and principled, but sometimes emotionally distant. He names the problems, sketches out a framework for thinking, and offers a kind of orientation—but he doesn’t try to offer easy answers or emotional reassurance.

And maybe that’s the point. In a political culture dominated by drama and spectacle, More From Sam feels like a calm lighthouse in a storm. Harris doesn’t pretend to solve every problem. But he helps us name them, sort through them, and hold on to the idea that clear thinking still matters. That might not be everything—but it’s something. And in times like these, it may be one of the few things we can still count on.

Books, Essays, Green Energy, Reviews

Review: “Solar’s Swift Ascent – Why The Energy Future Is Already Here”

The following essay review was written by AI and edited by Intellicurean from a New Yorker article titled “4.6 Billion Years On, The Sun Is Having A Moment”, by Bill McKibben from his forthcoming book “Here Comes The Sun”.

Much like a seasoned playgoer at a modern drama, we find ourselves watching the improbable and the inevitable perform a dizzying pas de deux. For decades, renewable energy existed on the fringe—a topic for earnest environmentalists, academic dreamers, and early adopters armed with more zeal than capital. One recalls the almost quaint marvel of the first all-solar house at the University of Delaware in 1973, drawing curious crowds like pilgrims to a modern oracle. It was a novelty, an “alternative” to the fossil-fueled behemoth that powered Western economies for two centuries. And “alternative” was the key word—suggesting not a contender, but a polite afterthought.

Yet as we move through the mid-2020s, a stunning twist has unfolded, largely unnoticed amid louder headlines. With little fanfare, renewable energy has shifted from a peripheral ideal to a mainstream economic reality. In a world often held hostage to political drama and climate paralysis, this shift—documented in a recent New Yorker piece drawn from Bill McKibben’s forthcoming book, Here Comes the Sun: A Last Chance for the Climate and a Fresh Chance for Civilization (August 2025)—feels both miraculous and overdue. What was once “too good to be true” is now simply true. Solar, wind, and battery storage have become the most cost-efficient, fastest-growing power sources on Earth. The implications are nothing short of a new Industrial Revolution—only this time, it’s clean, decentralized, and increasingly democratic.

The Solar Surge

The statistics McKibben explores in the excerpted material are not dry metrics—they’re signals of an epochal shift. It took nearly seventy years from the invention of the photovoltaic cell in 1954 to reach the first terawatt of installed solar power by 2022. The second terawatt arrived by 2024. The third? Expected by 2026. Solar is now being added at a rate of one gigawatt—equivalent to a coal plant—every fifteen hours. Wind power, a cousin to solar in its dependence on planetary physics, isn’t far behind.

Globally, renewables met 96% of new electricity demand in the past year. In the U.S., the figure was 93%. Fossil fuels, once the uncontested monarchs of modernity, are losing their crown. In March, for the first time, fossil fuels generated less than half of all U.S. electricity.

California provides a dramatic case study. In May, the state—now the fourth-largest economy in the world—hit a record: renewable sources produced 158% of its power demand. Over the entire day, they delivered 82% of electricity consumed. This wasn’t theoretical progress—it was operational proof.

Batteries and the Grid Reimagined

Equally revolutionary is the rise of energy storage. Battery deployment has surged 76% this year alone. These systems often act as California’s overnight power source, stabilizing the grid when sunlight fades or wind slows. One official from the North American Electric Reliability Corporation noted, “batteries can smooth out some of that variability from those times when the wind isn’t blowing or the sun isn’t shining.” The result? California now uses 40% less natural gas than it did just last year—a number McKibben hails as “the single most hopeful statistic I’ve seen in four decades of writing about the climate crisis.”

Even Texas, synonymous with oil and gas, is rapidly rebranding its energy identity. In March, it set records for solar, wind, and battery output. During a brutal May heatwave, over a quarter of its power came from renewables. By adding 10,000 megawatts of clean capacity, Texas slashed emergency blackout risk from 16% last year to less than 1% now. This isn’t green idealism—it’s grid-level, boots-on-the-ground practicality.

China and the Global Cascade

But the scale of change in the U.S. pales in comparison to what’s happening in China. More than half the world’s renewables and batteries are now installed within Chinese borders. In May alone, China added 93 gigawatts of solar—equivalent to one gigawatt every eight hours. The environmental payoff is immediate: carbon emissions dropped in the first quarter of 2025, with electricity-linked emissions falling nearly 6% as solar and wind displaced coal. Nearly half of all vehicles sold in China this year were electric or hybrid.

This trend isn’t isolated—it’s contagious. South America, once planning 15 new coal plants, now plans none. India’s solar output surged so rapidly in early 2025 that coal consumption plateaued while natural gas use fell by a quarter. Even Poland, long a coal bastion, saw solar outstrip coal in May. These aren’t anomalies—they’re geopolitical rewrites.

And why? Because solar is now the cheapest, fastest path to power. China’s relentless innovation has driven battery costs down by 95% in 15 years. In just the first half of 2024, the U.S. alone added 4 gigawatts of storage. A Chinese utility’s latest bidding round cut prices by another 30%. Grid-scale batteries now power entire cities for hours. Nations that ignore this transformation aren’t just polluting—they’re rendering themselves globally uncompetitive.

Even petro-states have noticed. Saudi Arabia, Qatar, and the UAE are all building massive solar fields. Their goal? 50% of electricity from solar by 2050. When oil empires go solar, the narrative has changed.

Forecasts vs. Reality

As with all revolutions, hindsight exposes how blind the experts were. In 2009, the International Energy Agency predicted 244 gigawatts of solar by 2030. That benchmark was reached by 2015. Their forecasts over the last decade missed by an average of 235%. The only group that got it close? Greenpeace.

Jenny Chase of Bloomberg, quoted in the book, admitted: “If you’d told me nearly 20 years ago what would be the case now… I would have laughed in your face.” The contrast between establishment analysts and environmentalists makes for a satisfying, if sobering, moment of vindication.

Leapfrogging the Fossil Age

Perhaps the most radical reordering is happening in places least expected. In Pakistan, widespread solar adoption is quietly displacing national grid demand—not from recession, but from progress. Diesel sales are down 30%. Corn farmers now gift solar inverters as wedding dowries. Panels are laid flat on the earth without costly mounts. DIY TikTok tutorials fill the role of training programs. This is grassroots ingenuity—climate transition as community-driven liberation.

A similar story is emerging across Africa. In Namibia and Eswatini, rooftop solar accounts for 11–15% of peak electricity. In South Africa, small-scale solar now contributes nearly 20% of national grid capacity. Many of these systems go unreported, installed informally by citizens weary of blackouts. As energy analyst Joel Nana puts it: “This is happening anyway, whether you like it or not.”

The Limits—And Why They’re Not So Limiting

What of minerals? What of land? These limits, once feared fatal, now seem manageable.

Lithium, long considered a bottleneck, has seen prices drop even as demand rises. New sources have been discovered. More importantly, recycling systems are maturing. A 2023 Energy Transitions Commission report found that all materials needed to reach net zero by 2050 amount to less than the coal burned in a single year. Battery tech is also becoming more efficient—using less lithium, less silver, and recovering more materials post-use. One roof of solar panels can now power ten replacements over 25 years. That’s not just sustainability—it’s a virtuous cycle.

Land, too, is more abundant than assumed. Rooftops and parking lots help, but a more powerful solution lies in reclaiming farmland used for ethanol. A single acre of solar produces as much energy as 100 acres of corn-based ethanol. Cornell researchers found that converting under half of U.S. ethanol fields could decarbonize the entire grid by 2050. That’s not fantasy. That’s arithmetic.

Policy vs. Physics

The obstacles now aren’t technical—they’re political. Thousands of renewable projects are stuck in “interconnection queues,” awaiting utility approval. The Biden Administration has taken steps to clear these logjams. But the Trump Administration is actively trying to reverse course, propping up coal and gas, and demonizing renewables. One appointee—formerly a fracking executive—labeled solar “a parasite on the grid.” That’s not science. That’s theater.

Ironically, such obstruction may accelerate the global transition. Nations are increasingly wary of U.S. energy instability and looking elsewhere. Wall Street sees the trend clearly: renewables are not just climate solutions, but hedges against geopolitical volatility. A 2023 global poll found that 68% of people support solar energy—five times more than fossil fuels. Even among likely Trump voters, 87% support clean energy tax credits. The political class may dither, but the public is marching forward.

The Future Is Diffuse, Not Centralized

The most profound feature of this transition may be its structure. Fossil fuels are scarce, located in select pockets, and easy to monopolize. But solar and wind are everywhere. You can’t own the sun. You can’t weaponize the wind. What this means geopolitically is staggering. Wars have been fought over oil. No one’s going to invade for sunshine.

And that’s the quiet promise of this revolution. Decentralized power doesn’t just decarbonize economies—it redistributes agency. It empowers individuals, communities, and nations to unshackle themselves from legacy dependencies.

Conclusion: The Sun Conquers

Paradigm shifts of this magnitude—the Industrial Revolution, the rise of computing—rarely announce themselves with fireworks. But when they arrive, they redefine everything.

The insights drawn from McKibben’s forthcoming book deliver that quiet shock. What emerges is not speculation, but evidence. A meticulously documented, unapologetically optimistic vision of a world poised on the edge of salvation—not by hope alone, but by hard math, falling prices, and widespread will.

The sun, it seems, is not merely rising. It is conquering.

Arts & Literature, Books, Essays, Literature, Reviews

Literary Essay: “Infinite Interiors – On the Twenty Best Novels of All Time”

The following essay was written by ChatGPT and edited by Intellicurean from an article titled “The 20 best novels of all time” written by Claire Allfree and published in The Telegraph book section on July 6, 2025.

When a culture attempts to consecrate a definitive list of its greatest novels, it risks both an admirable arrogance and a kind of elegiac futility. The recent selection of The 20 Best Novels of All Time, published by The Telegraph, seems at once a celebration of the novel’s inexhaustible possibility and an implicit acknowledgment of our own waning capacity for reading with genuine urgency. It is as though we assemble these canons less to instruct our descendants than to reassure ourselves that we have not entirely forgotten how literature once moved the soul.

One cannot help but admire the breadth and seriousness of this catalogue. It stretches from the dreamlike elegance of The Tale of Genji—a work whose thousand-year distance intensifies its immediacy—to the compulsive self-dissection of Knausgaard’s My Struggle, a testament to our age’s faith that self-disclosure can substitute for narrative shape. What holds these disparate texts together is not merely their historical significance but their shared aspiration to render life in all its unmastered perplexity.

If Harold Bloom were to begin here, he might call attention to The Tale of Genji as an early demonstration of what he once termed the “internalization of romance.” It is a book that transcends its courtly gossip to become an inexhaustible study in desire’s transformations, a mirror to the reader’s own fluctuations of attachment and estrangement. We encounter Genji’s erotic restlessness as both scandalous and poignantly familiar, for the novel’s true subject is the incommensurability between longing and fulfillment—an incommensurability that modern fiction has inherited as its principal obsession.

James Wood, by contrast, might focus on Middlemarch as the novelistic apogee of moral realism. Eliot’s genius lay in her refusal to reduce her characters to mere emblems of ideology or historical process. Instead, she endowed them with what Wood has called “free indirect style’s psychic oscillation,” a prose capable of inhabiting and exposing consciousness in the same instant. It is a book that dares to be both panoramic and exquisitely local, to weigh the ambitions of a nation against the disappointments of a single marriage bed. If there is a single argument to be made for the continued relevance of the realist novel, it is that Middlemarch remains more acute about our interiority than any contemporary memoir.

And yet one cannot ignore how this list gestures toward the novel’s capacity for formal subversion. Ulysses, with its irreverent transformations of the Homeric epic into the trivial routines of Dublin, still feels scandalous in its abundance. Joyce’s genius is not only in his linguistic pyrotechnics but in his suspicion that consciousness itself can never be adequately represented. His prose, that shifting mosaic of styles and registers, offers no comfort to the reader who seeks transparency. Instead, it confronts us with the knowledge that the novel’s greatest power may reside in its refusal to cohere.

This refusal—to simplify, to console, to moralize—animates many of the twenty selections. Invisible Man is less a conventional narrative than a hallucinatory initiation into the American underworld of racial invisibility. Ellison’s rhetorical bravado, his blending of surrealism and jeremiad, still outpaces the efforts of more contemporary chroniclers of identity. To read Invisible Man today is to recognize how easily literary radicalism becomes cultural commonplace, but also to remember how singular its achievement remains.

Nor does the list shy from novels that embrace the uncanny. Bulgakov’s The Master and Margarita may be the most exuberant refutation of realist pieties ever composed. Its supernatural comedy is both a rebuke to Stalinist orthodoxy and a reminder that the imagination is an inherently seditious faculty. If much of the 20th-century novel sought to dismantle the illusions of bourgeois life, Bulgakov’s masterpiece demonstrates that irony and enchantment can be revolutionary forces.

Yet if Bloom were to caution us, he would do so against the temptation to read these novels exclusively as instruments of social critique. Literature endures precisely because it exceeds its momentary political applications. War and Peace is indeed an anatomy of the Napoleonic Wars, but it is more crucially a demonstration of how historical consciousness itself can become an object of artistic inquiry. Tolstoy’s genius was to discover that the novelist’s truest fidelity is not to facts but to the felt perplexity of lived experience.

It is striking how Robinson Crusoe stands at the inception of the English novel, bearing within it the seeds of many later contradictions. Defoe’s narrative is, on the surface, a hymn to industry and resourcefulness. But the same story—of a man claiming dominion over an island—also encodes the imperial impulse, the confidence that the world exists to be measured, catalogued, and possessed. What once seemed the purest adventure has become, to modern readers, an uneasy parable of conquest.

One also encounters here the severe naturalism of Thérèse Raquin, a work whose lurid determinism feels almost an affront to Victorian piety. Zola’s lovers are not tragic in any redemptive sense; they are specimens trapped in an experiment of their own appetites. And yet there is a perverse grandeur in the novel’s refusal to pretend that desire leads anywhere but into the pit.

New Grub Street too is a novel about entrapment—this time not by passion but by commerce. Gissing’s weary chronicling of literary London feels uncannily prophetic, as if he anticipated the rise of every ghostwritten bestseller and every writer forced to commodify a persona. What is most unsettling is that he offers no counterexample: no heroic idealist who transcends the marketplace, no unspoiled domain of “pure” art. In this sense, the book remains an indispensable autopsy of cultural production.

If Zola and Gissing reveal the suffocating material conditions of life, Moby-Dick reveals the existential abyss. No novel is more saturated with the terror of cosmic indifference. Melville’s prose—sometimes biblical, sometimes madcap—collapses the distance between metaphysics and anatomy, making the whale not merely an animal but an emblem of the universe’s mute resistance to comprehension. In Bloom’s phrase, it is the American epic that devours all interpretations, a text that renders the critic humble before its incommensurate ambition.

One finds a different kind of ambition in Party Going, where Henry Green distills modernist unease into something almost glacial. Its stranded revellers, imprisoned in their own frivolity while fog swallows the city below, seem to embody an entire civilization’s failure to apprehend its own decline. The novel is both slight in incident and inexhaustible in implication—a reminder that the modernist fascination with stasis can be as provocative as any narrative pyrotechnics.

Proust’s In Search of Lost Time remains the most exhaustive testimony to literature’s faith in consciousness as a world unto itself. No novel before or since has so patiently mapped the minute inflections of memory, the subtle humiliations and triumphs of social life. It is a book that tests the limits of our attention but also rewards it with an intimacy that becomes, paradoxically, universal.

The Great Gatsby, meanwhile, retains its status as a parable of aspiration’s inevitable corrosion. Fitzgerald’s sentences are so lapidary that their loveliness can almost distract from the novel’s acrid judgment. Gatsby’s dream—at once romantic and predatory—has become the template for American self-mythology. That the dream collapses under the weight of its illusions is precisely what grants it the force of prophecy.

It is striking, too, how many of these novels seek to articulate the experience of cultures in collision. Things Fall Apart is the most lucid demonstration of Achebe’s conviction that narrative authority must be reclaimed by those whom empire has consigned to silence. Okonkwo’s tragedy is not only that he fails to adapt but that his story has been written over by the conqueror’s language. Achebe’s triumph is to create a form that both inhabits and transforms that language.

Closer to our own era, The Country Girls quietly ignited a literary insurrection. O’Brien’s candid portrayal of female desire and disillusionment, so scandalous in 1960s Ireland, now seems almost decorous in its gentleness. Yet its influence remains incalculable. It taught a generation of writers that the domestic could be radical, that the most private confessions might unsettle entire cultures.

No less ambitious, though in a different register, is The Golden Notebook. Lessing’s formal fragmentation enacts the very psychic disintegration it describes. Anna Wulf’s notebooks—political, personal, artistic—refuse to reconcile into any coherent identity. In this refusal, Lessing anticipates the confessional experiments of Knausgaard and the autofiction that now dominates so much literary discourse.

The Rings of Saturn, by W.G. Sebald, is a late testament to literature’s capacity to hover between genres—memoir, travelogue, essay—and to become, in that ambiguity, something more resonant than any of them alone. Sebald’s melancholy is not performative but almost geological: the sorrow of civilizations grinding into dust, of memory dissolving into rumor.

If Sebald writes out of mourning, Knausgaard writes out of a hunger so relentless it often seems pathological. My Struggle is both monument and provocation: an assertion that the granular details of ordinary life deserve the same attention Proust once gave to aristocratic salons. Whether this is a triumph of honesty or a capitulation to narcissism is a question the reader must answer alone.

And then there is Conversations with Friends, whose subdued prose and emotional diffidence reflect an era uneasy with grandeur. Rooney’s novel is not so much plotted as observed: a record of glancing attachments, tentative betrayals, and the provisional negotiations of millennial intimacy. Some will dismiss it as slight, but its cool detachment has a disquieting relevance. It suggests that the novel no longer needs epic ambition to be significant; it need only be exact.

A Closing Reflection

Surveying these twenty novels, we see not a single tradition but a plurality of experiments—each one extending the novel’s reach. To read them is to join a conversation that has never ended, in which each new book answers its predecessors with admiration, dissent, or surpassing ambition. Perhaps that is the most heartening lesson: that literature, in all its contradictions, remains the most durable form we possess for contemplating the inexhaustible strangeness of being alive.

A LIST OF THE BOOKS FROM THE ESSAY AND REVIEW IS BELOW:

  1. The Tale of Genji (1021) – Murasaki Shikibu
    Often called the first novel ever written, this thousand-year-old Japanese masterpiece recounts the romantic adventures of Prince Genji and the inner lives of the women he pursues, offering an exquisite portrayal of courtly love and social intrigue.
  2. The Pilgrim’s Progress (1678) – John Bunyan
    A religious allegory composed in prison, telling the story of Christian’s perilous journey to the Celestial City. Simultaneously quest narrative, moral parable, and spiritual confession, it became one of English literature’s most influential texts.
  3. Robinson Crusoe (1719) – Daniel Defoe
    A castaway narrative presented as a true account, blending adventure and colonial ideology. Crusoe’s survival on an island and mastery over his domain has sparked both admiration and fierce debates over its imperialist assumptions.
  4. Moby-Dick (1851) – Herman Melville
    Captain Ahab’s vengeful pursuit of the white whale becomes an existential epic exploring obsession, fate, and humanity’s place in the cosmos. Famous for its lyrical prose and encyclopedic digressions on whales and whaling.
  5. Thérèse Raquin (1867) – Émile Zola
    A grim study of adultery and guilt, depicting the murderous passion between Thérèse and her lover, Laurent. Their crime leads to psychological disintegration and ghostly hauntings in this early work of French naturalism.
  6. War and Peace (1867) – Leo Tolstoy
    Tolstoy’s sprawling saga of Russian aristocrats during the Napoleonic Wars interweaves personal transformation with sweeping history, offering a masterful portrait of love, fate, and the forces that shape nations.
  7. Middlemarch (1871) – George Eliot
    Set in a provincial English town, this realist masterpiece follows the intellectual and emotional struggles of Dorothea Brooke and other characters as they confront marriage, ambition, and disappointment.
  8. New Grub Street (1891) – George Gissing
    An unflinching look at the late-Victorian literary marketplace, chronicling the rivalry between idealistic writers and pragmatic hacks, and exploring the compromises required to survive as a professional author.
  9. Ulysses (1922) – James Joyce
    A modernist reimagining of Homer’s Odyssey, set over a single day in Dublin. Famous for its stream-of-consciousness style, linguistic experimentation, and celebration of ordinary life’s hidden richness.
  10. In Search of Lost Time (1913–1927) – Marcel Proust
    A monumental seven-volume exploration of memory, time, and desire, chronicling the narrator’s life and the decline of French aristocracy with lush psychological and social detail.
  11. The Great Gatsby (1925) – F. Scott Fitzgerald
    A glittering tragedy of the Jazz Age, centering on the mysterious Jay Gatsby’s doomed pursuit of wealth and love, and exposing the hollowness of the American Dream.
  12. Party Going (1939) – Henry Green
    A surreal, modernist novel about a group of privileged young people stranded in a railway hotel, whose trivial gossip masks a pervasive sense of dread as Europe hovers on the brink of war.
  13. Invisible Man (1952) – Ralph Ellison
    An unnamed Black narrator journeys through racism and disillusionment in America, blending surreal episodes, biting satire, and profound reflections on identity and invisibility.
  14. Things Fall Apart (1958) – Chinua Achebe
    Set in a 19th-century Igbo village, this landmark postcolonial novel traces the cultural collision between indigenous African traditions and British missionaries, through the tragic story of Okonkwo.
  15. The Country Girls (1960) – Edna O’Brien
    The coming-of-age story of two Irish girls escaping their repressive Catholic upbringing, whose quest for independence transformed Irish literature and scandalized conservative audiences.
  16. The Golden Notebook (1962) – Doris Lessing
    An ambitious, formally fragmented narrative about a woman writer dividing her life into separate notebooks—political, personal, creative—and attempting to reconcile them during a breakdown.
  17. The Master and Margarita (1966) – Mikhail Bulgakov
    A satirical fantasy in which the Devil arrives in Stalinist Moscow with a retinue that includes a giant talking cat, exposing the absurdity and cruelty of totalitarian society.
  18. The Rings of Saturn (1995) – W.G. Sebald
    A genre-defying meditation combining travelogue, memoir, history, and philosophy, as a narrator’s walk along the English coast sparks digressions on decay, memory, and loss.
  19. My Struggle (2009–2011) – Karl Ove Knausgaard
    A six-volume autofiction epic chronicling the author’s life in exhaustive detail, from childhood to fatherhood, redefining confessional writing and stirring controversy over privacy and truth.
  20. Conversations with Friends (2017) – Sally Rooney
    A millennial love story about a young Dublin student entangled in an affair with an older married man, written in Rooney’s lucid, understated style that captures the textures of contemporary intimacy.
Analysis, Law, Opinion, Reviews

REVIEW: “Judgment Calls – From Diddy’s Acquittal To The Supreme Court’s Shift”

THE FOLLOWING IS AN “AI REVIEW” OF THE JULY 3 EPISODE OF “BLOOMBERG LAW WITH JUNE GRASSO” PODCAST TRANSCRIPT:

In the dimly lit chambers of American justice, two parallel stories unfolded this term—one involving the cultural phenomenon of Sean “Diddy” Combs, the other the ideological recalibration of the United States Supreme Court. Each, in its own way, exposed the tensions inherent in a legal system grappling with the competing imperatives of moral condemnation, procedural fairness, and the inexorable gravitational pull of politics.

In federal court, Combs emerged, if not unscathed, then improbably triumphant. After six weeks of graphic testimony and the steady drip of lurid detail, jurors acquitted him of the most sensational accusations: racketeering conspiracy and sex trafficking, crimes that, had they stuck, would almost certainly have resulted in a life sentence. Instead, he was convicted only on two counts of transporting sex workers across state lines to participate in what prosecutors termed “freak-off parties.” In the pantheon of celebrity trials, this outcome was remarkable not merely for the verdict itself but for the rhetorical overreach that defined the government’s case.

Robert Mintz, a former federal prosecutor turned defense attorney, spoke to the case’s cautionary lesson about prosecutorial ambition. RICO—the Racketeer Influenced and Corrupt Organizations Act—was never an intuitive fit for Combs, a music mogul whose business dealings, however flamboyant, bore little resemblance to the mafia syndicates the statute was designed to dismantle. In the final analysis, jurors appeared unconvinced that the machinery of Combs’s empire—record labels, promotional companies, an entourage that blurred the line between personal and professional—was itself the instrument of a criminal conspiracy. They were similarly unconvinced that the two women at the heart of the government’s sex trafficking charges had been coerced rather than entangled in a toxic, if mutually complicit, set of relationships.

Perhaps more striking still was the defense’s strategy: they called no witnesses. Rather than counter the government’s narrative with competing testimony, Combs’s lawyers focused their energy on cross-examination, unspooling the contradictions and ambivalences embedded in the prosecution’s evidence. Here, too, lay a broader truth about modern criminal justice. The power to define the contours of the case—the charges themselves—can be as determinative as the evidence marshaled to prove them. When the government chooses to depict a defendant as the capo di tutti capi of an illicit empire, it must persuade a jury not only of wrongdoing but of a sweeping criminality that often strains credulity. When that narrative collapses, as it did here, the defense is left with the simpler task of pointing out the seams.

But Combs’s legal jeopardy is not yet at an end. Though acquitted of the most serious charges, he faces up to twenty years in prison on the counts that remain, even if the federal sentencing guidelines suggest a considerably lower range. The presiding judge, troubled by videotaped evidence of Combs assaulting one of the alleged victims, declined to release him pending sentencing—a reminder that in federal court, the most powerful voice is not the jury’s but the judge’s. It is not inconceivable that the final chapter of this saga will be harsher than the defense’s celebration suggested.

If Combs’s courtroom drama offered a microcosm of prosecutorial overreach, the Supreme Court’s term showcased a more profound shift: a conservative supermajority willing to reconfigure the balance of power between the judiciary and the executive—and, by extension, between individuals and the state. In conversation with constitutional law scholar Michael Dorf, host June Grasso illuminated the breadth of these changes. Over the past year, the Court issued a series of rulings that, taken together, represent a quiet revolution in the way the federal courts interact with presidential authority.

At the heart of this transformation was the Court’s decision to curtail nationwide injunctions—sweeping orders issued by district judges to block federal policies across the entire country. For decades, these injunctions served as a vital mechanism by which civil rights plaintiffs, immigrant communities, and other marginalized groups could halt executive overreach before it inflicted irreparable harm. Their disappearance is no mere procedural adjustment; it recasts the balance between the judiciary’s protective function and the executive’s prerogative to govern unencumbered.

This doctrinal shift accrued almost exclusively to the benefit of President Trump, whose administration had faced a phalanx of legal challenges. Whether the issue was the forced deportation of migrants, the exclusion of transgender Americans from military service, or the elimination of birthright citizenship, the Supreme Court’s majority showed an evident willingness to side with the executive branch on an emergency basis—often with scant explanation. Dorf described this posture as striking not merely for its partisanship but for its inconsistency: lower courts that blocked Trump policies were overruled with alacrity, even as those same justices castigated nationwide injunctions as judicial overreach.

At the same time, the term’s most divisive rulings revealed a Court emboldened to advance a culturally conservative agenda. In a 6-3 decision, the justices upheld Tennessee’s ban on gender-affirming care for minors, dismissing the equal protection claims of transgender plaintiffs and casting doubt on whether such discrimination should trigger heightened constitutional scrutiny. In another ruling, religious parents were granted the right to withdraw their children from public school curricula that included LGBTQ-themed storybooks—a decision that critics warn will invite broader challenges to any teaching that conflicts with sectarian belief. In the aggregate, these rulings did more than roll back hard-won protections for LGBTQ Americans. They signaled a willingness to prioritize religious objections over the rights of vulnerable communities, an alignment that recurred throughout the term.

For Dorf, the most unsettling dimension was not the conservative tilt per se but the Court’s apparent comfort with what he called a “soft authoritarian” style of governance. The Roberts Court had already repealed the constitutional right to abortion and limited the federal government’s capacity to regulate firearms. What distinguished this term was its readiness to facilitate the Trump administration’s disregard for judicial orders—an erosion not of precedent but of the rule of law itself.

Whether these developments portend a lasting reorientation of American jurisprudence remains to be seen. What is clear, however, is that the ideological polarization of the Supreme Court is reshaping the lives of countless citizens in ways that transcend conventional partisanship. In this respect, the travails of Sean Combs and the ambitions of the Roberts Court are, improbably, two facets of the same American story: one in which the legal system’s power to punish and to protect is increasingly mediated by political will—and by the narratives that prevail when the evidence, the law, and the culture clash in the crucible of the courtroom.

Segment 1: The Verdict in Sean “Diddy” Combs’ Case

Guests:

  • Robert Mintz, former federal prosecutor, partner at McCarter & English

Topics:

  • Combs’ acquittal on the most serious charges (racketeering, conspiracy, sex trafficking)
  • Conviction on two lesser felonies (transportation to engage in prostitution)
  • Defense’s strategy to challenge overcharging
  • Impact of the 2016 video showing domestic violence
  • Potential sentencing: between ~2–5 years under guidelines, but judge has broad discretion
  • Judge’s refusal to release Combs pending sentencing due to danger concerns
  • Broader implications of prosecutorial overreach and the difficulties of proving coercion in complex, long-term relationships

Segment 2: The Supreme Court Term Review

Guest:

  • Michael Dorf, constitutional law professor, Cornell Law School

Topics:

  • The Supreme Court siding repeatedly with the Trump administration
    • Disbanding nationwide injunctions (limiting checks on executive power)
    • Facilitating major policy shifts (transgender military ban, deportations, birthright citizenship challenges)
  • LGBTQ rights decisions:
    • Upholding Tennessee’s ban on gender-affirming care for minors
    • Requiring schools to exempt religious families from LGBTQ-inclusive curricula
    • Concerns about the erosion of protections under equal protection doctrine
    • Forthcoming cases on transgender sports participation and conversion therapy bans
  • Second Amendment developments:
    • Court upholding ghost gun regulations
    • Declining to broadly immunize gun manufacturers
    • Signaling possible caution but not reversal of the pro-gun rights direction
  • Emergency docket criticism:
    • Pattern of granting Trump administration emergency relief with limited justification
    • Disregard for procedural norms
  • Overarching movement:
    • From traditional conservatism into enabling a more authoritarian style of governance

Summary

This episode of Bloomberg Law, hosted by June Grasso, offered an in-depth analysis of two major legal stories:

1. The Sean “Diddy” Combs Case
After a six-week federal trial with emotionally charged testimony, Combs was acquitted of racketeering and sex trafficking but convicted of transporting sex workers across state lines—a felony under the Mann Act. Prosecutors’ strategy to use RICO laws typically reserved for mob cases ultimately backfired, allowing the defense to argue overreach. While the jury found Combs’ conduct disturbing, they did not believe it rose to organized criminal enterprise. Despite securing partial convictions, the prosecution faces criticism for overcharging, which opened avenues for defense cross-examination and ultimately undermined their case. Combs remains in custody as he awaits sentencing, which could be significantly harsher than defense estimates due to the judge’s concerns about continued danger.

2. The Supreme Court’s Term
Professor Michael Dorf described a term marked by sweeping decisions that advanced a conservative agenda, often benefiting the Trump administration. The Court stripped lower courts of their ability to issue nationwide injunctions, effectively removing a key check on executive overreach. In LGBTQ cases, the Court upheld bans on gender-affirming care for minors, sided with religious parents seeking exemptions from inclusive curricula, and signaled openness to further limits on trans rights in upcoming cases. While the Court maintained some gun regulations, its overall jurisprudence continues a rightward trajectory, blending traditional conservative principles with deference to Trump’s more aggressive policies. Emergency docket decisions frequently favored the administration without full briefing, raising concerns about procedural fairness and erosion of judicial norms. Ultimately, the Court’s direction was characterized as not just conservative, but increasingly aligned with authoritarian tendencies.

THIS POSTING WAS WRITTEN BY AI AND EDITED BY INTELLICUREAN

Analysis, Economics, Financial, Opinion, Profiles, Reviews

REVIEW: “A BIG, BEAUTIFUL BILL AND AN EVEN BIGGER DEBT: THREE PERSPECTIVES”

The following is an in-depth analysis of President Trump’s “One Big Beautiful Bill Act” written by ChatGPT from important, bi-partisan fiscal, economic and political sources, all listed below:

If there is one unassailable truth in American political life, it is that no grand legislative gesture arrives without the promise of prosperity—and the prospect of unintended consequences. Donald Trump’s “One Big Beautiful Bill,” signed into law on July 4th, stands as a monument to this dynamic: a sprawling package of permanent tax cuts, entitlement retrenchments, and fresh spending, all wrapped in a populist bow and accompanied by the familiar refrain that the deficits will somehow pay for themselves.

To understand the bill’s import—and its likely fallout—it helps to consider three vantage points. The first is that of Milton Friedman, who would see in these provisions a laboratory for the free market, tempered by fiscal illusions. The second is Paul Krugman’s, for whom this is a brazen experiment in upward redistribution. The third is David Stockman’s, whose uniquely jaundiced eye discerns an unholy alliance of crony capitalism and debt-fueled political theatre.

Friedman, the Nobel laureate and evangelist of free enterprise, might first commend the bill’s unapologetic tax relief. A permanent extension of the 2017 tax cuts is precisely the sort of measure he once called “a way to restore incentives, reduce distortions, and reward enterprise.” For Friedman, a tax system ought to be predictable, broad-based, and minimally intrusive. In this sense, the bill’s elimination of taxes on tips and overtime income, coupled with higher thresholds for the estate tax, will likely increase the incentive to work, save, and invest.

Yet Friedman would be quick to warn that no tax cut exists in a vacuum. The real test of fiscal virtue, he always argued, is not in slashing tax rates but in restraining spending. This bill, by combining aggressive tax cuts with continued defense expansions and only partial reductions to social spending, falls short of the discipline he prescribed. The result, Friedman would say, is a structural deficit that will eventually require either inflation or future tax hikes. “There is no such thing as a free lunch,” he liked to remind audiences. This is a lunch billed to generations unborn.

Krugman, viewing the same legislation, would perceive not a triumph of market freedom but an egregious abdication of public responsibility. He has long argued that the most misleading idea in modern politics is the notion that tax cuts inevitably pay for themselves. As the Congressional Budget Office’s scoring shows, the bill is likely to add over $3 trillion to the national debt in the next decade, even after accounting for higher GDP. Krugman would note that the permanent nature of the cuts deprives lawmakers of future leverage and crowds out investments in education, infrastructure, and health.

More pointedly, Krugman would argue that the bill’s distributional impact is regressive by design. Expanded deductions for capital gains and estates, the restoration of a higher SALT cap, and corporate incentives all tilt the benefits toward the affluent, while Medicaid cuts and SNAP work requirements fall hardest on those with the least. In Krugman’s view, this is not simply poor economics but a moral failing: a return to what he calls “the era of Dickensian inequality, dressed up in the rhetoric of growth.”

Yet the critique most likely to sting is the one that David Stockman would deliver. Unlike Krugman, Stockman began as a champion of supply-side tax reform. But he has since become its most unflinching critic. To him, the “Big Beautiful Bill” represents the final stage of a fiscal derangement decades in the making: a bipartisan addiction to borrowing and a refusal to reckon with arithmetic. “This is not capitalism,” Stockman might write, “it’s a simulacrum of capitalism—an endless auction of political favors financed by the Fed’s printing press.”

Stockman would remind readers that when he served as Reagan’s budget director, the expectation was that tax cuts would be offset by deep spending restraint. Instead, deficits ballooned and discipline eroded. The new bill, with its eye-watering cost and lack of credible offsets, is an even more flamboyant departure from any pretense of balance. Stockman would likely deride the Republican celebration as a form of magical thinking, no more credible than the illusions peddled by Democrats. In his telling, the bill is both symptom and accelerant of a broader collapse of fiscal sanity.

All three perspectives converge on a single point: the bill’s enormous impact on the debt trajectory. According to estimates from the Committee for a Responsible Federal Budget, the legislation could push the U.S. debt-to-GDP ratio past 145% by 2050—an unprecedented level for a peacetime economy. While proponents insist that higher growth will mitigate the burden, the Tax Foundation’s dynamic scoring suggests the additional output will cover only a fraction of the revenue loss.

Friedman would insist that economic growth requires both lower taxes and leaner government. Krugman would counter that social stability and productivity demand sustained public investment. Stockman would argue that the entire paradigm—borrowing trillions to finance giveaways—has become a bipartisan racket. Despite their ideological divergences, all three would agree that the arithmetic is merciless. Eventually, debts must be serviced, entitlements must be funded, and the dollar’s credibility must be defended.

What remains is the question of public memory. In the years ahead, as interest payments rise and fiscal constraints tighten, politicians will doubtless blame one another for the bill’s consequences. The narrative will fracture along familiar lines: Republicans will claim the tax cuts were sabotaged by spending; Democrats will argue the spending was hobbled by tax cuts. Independents will declare that neither side ever intended to balance the books. But the numbers, as Friedman and Krugman and Stockman all understood in their own ways, are immune to spin.

There is an old line, attributed variously to Keynes and to an anonymous Treasury mandarin, that the markets can remain irrational longer than you can remain solvent. Perhaps, in this case, Washington can remain irrational longer than the public can remain attentive. But eventually, the bill will come due—not only the legislation signed on Independence Day, but the larger bill for decades of self-deception.

A big, beautiful bill indeed. And perhaps, in the fullness of time, an even bigger, less beautiful reckoning.

Key Elements of the Bill

  • Permanent tax cuts (≈ $4.5 trillion): Extends nearly all parts of Trump’s 2017 Tax Cuts and Jobs Act, including individual rate brackets, expanded standard deduction, plus new deductions—no taxes on tips/overtime (through 2028), boosted SALT deduction ($40k cap for five years), larger child/senior credits, plus expansions like auto loan interest write-offs and “Trump Accounts” for parents apnews.com+15ft.com+15crfb.org+15.
  • Major spending cuts: $1–1.2 trillion in savings via Medicaid cuts (work requirements, provider taxes), SNAP/state cost-shifts, rollback of clean energy incentives .
  • Increased enforcement and defense: $150 B added to defense, another $150 B+ for border/ICE enhancements; ICE funding grows tenfold – now largest federal law enforcement budget .
  • Debt-ceiling hike: Allows a $4–$5 trillion statutory increase in borrowing authority as.com+3en.wikipedia.org+3reuters.com+3.

📊 Economic & Fiscal Outlook

🏛️ Congressional Budget Office (CBO)

🏦 CRFB & Budget Advocates

  • Committee for a Responsible Federal Budget (CRFB) puts the Senate’s reconciliation version at $4.1 trillion added debt through 2034—and warns a permanent version could add $5.3–5.5 trillion en.wikipedia.org.
  • CRFB also flags that Social Security and Medicare’s projected insolvency deadlines are now accelerated by roughly one year .

🧮 Tax Foundation

  • Estimates that permanent tax measures could yield a +1.2% GDP boost over the long run, but also slash federal revenue by $4 trillion (dynamically)—meaning growth would only cover ~19% of the revenue loss en.wikipedia.org+15en.wikipedia.org+15reuters.com+15.
  • Shorter-term growth boost around +0.6% by 2027, but turns mildly negative (–0.1%) by 2034 once fiscal constraints bite taxfoundation.org.

🌍 International Outlook (Moody’s, Reuters)

💬 Media & Policy Experts

  • Reuters warns of a “debt spiral,” with rising interest costs jeopardizing Fed independence .
  • FT, Washington Post, The Guardian, The Economist describe it as the largest GOP tax/deficit expansion since Reagan, dubbing it a “reverse Robin Hood”—favoring corporations and wealthy over vulnerable groups .
  • Economists at Yale, Penn warn severe health-care cuts could increase preventable mortality and financial distress en.wikipedia.org+1ft.com+1.

🔍 Bottom Line Summary

MetricEstimate
Deficit Increase (2025–34)$3.3–4.1 T (CBO: ≈ $3.4T; CRFB Senate: ≈ $4.1T)
Debt-to-GDP TrajectoryRising, potentially 145–200% by 2050
GDP Growth Impact+0.6% by 2027, fading to –0.1% by 2034
Revenue Loss~$4–5 T over a decade (dynamic)
Insured Loss & Social Costs~11 M fewer insured; Medicaid/SNAP and health impacts significant
  • Neutral consensus: Deficit historians, nonpartisan agencies agree debt will balloon sharply in absence of offsetting revenues or spending reversals.
  • Growth trade-off: While tax relief offers modest short-term growth, it does not offset long-run fiscal burdens.
  • Debt consequences: Higher mandatory interest costs, credit rating erosion, pressure on policy flexibility, and future tax hikes or spending cuts loom.

🧠 Final Take

Trump’s “One Big Beautiful Bill” delivers sweeping tax cuts, spending reductions in social safety nets, and major border/defense expansions—all rolled into one 940-page, $4–5 trillion fiscal package. Bipartisan institutions like the CBO, CRFB, Tax Foundation, and independent watchdogs align on its massive impact:

  1. Adds trillions to the deficit, sharply escalating national debt.
  2. Offers modest, short-term output gains, but risks longer-term economic drag.
  3. Amplifies fiscal risk, stokes interest burden, and could strain future budgets.
  4. Contains explicit regressive elements—favoring higher-income households and corporations over lower-income families and health-care access.

Here are the three writers whose vantage points are considered:

1️⃣ Conservative / Republican

Milton Friedman

Why he stands out:

  • Nobel Prize–winning economist and prolific writer whose work shaped modern conservative and libertarian economic thought.
  • Champion of free markets, limited government, and monetarism (the idea that controlling the money supply is key to managing the economy).
  • His books and columns influenced Ronald Reagan and Margaret Thatcher and remain foundational in debates about taxes, deficits, and regulation.
    Major Works:
  • Capitalism and Freedom (1962) – argued that economic freedom underpins political freedom.
  • Free to Choose (1980, with Rose Friedman) – a best-selling defense of deregulation, school vouchers, and lower taxes.
  • Columns for Newsweek and extensive public outreach (including the PBS series Free to Choose).

2️⃣ Liberal / Progressive

Paul Krugman

Why he stands out:

  • Nobel Prize–winning economist and prominent columnist who shaped liberal economic commentary from the 1990s onward.
  • A sharp critic of supply-side tax cuts, deregulation, and austerity.
  • Influential in Democratic policy debates on stimulus spending, inequality, and health care.
    Major Works:
  • The Conscience of a Liberal (2007) – traced the rise of inequality and made a moral case for progressive taxation and social insurance.
  • End This Depression Now! (2012) – argued forcefully for Keynesian stimulus after the Great Recession.
  • Columns in The New York Times, where he has been one of the most-read voices on economic policy.

3️⃣ Independent / Centrist

David Stockman

Why he stands out:

  • Former Reagan budget director who later became an iconoclastic critic of both parties’ fiscal excesses.
  • He helped design the Reagan tax cuts, but later turned against supply-side orthodoxy and big deficits.
  • His writings blend libertarian skepticism of big government with scathing critiques of Wall Street bailouts and crony capitalism.
    Major Works:
  • The Triumph of Politics: Why the Reagan Revolution Failed (1986) – a landmark insider account of budget battles and exploding deficits.
  • The Great Deformation: The Corruption of Capitalism in America (2013) – an encyclopedic denunciation of central banking, stimulus, and fiscal irresponsibility.
  • Regular commentary and op-eds across financial and political publications (The New York Times, Zero Hedge, The Atlantic).
Essays, Politics, Reviews, Social Media

REVIEW: “Donald Trump, Zohran Mamdani, and Posting as Politics”

An AI Review: “Donald Trump, Zohran Mamdani, and Posting as Politics”

In The New Yorker essay “Donald Trump, Zohran Mamdani, and Posting as Politics,” Kyle Chayka explores how social media has become not merely a communication tool for political figures but the primary arena in which politics itself now unfolds. The piece contrasts the digital personas of Donald Trump and Zohran Mamdani to illustrate how posting has evolved into a core exercise of power and a new form of political identity.

Chayka begins by chronicling former President Trump’s frenetic use of Truth Social, the platform he created after leaving Twitter. Trump does not merely announce decisions online; he appears to make them there. For instance, in June 2025, Trump unilaterally declared and publicized a ceasefire between Israel and Iran on Truth Social after having ordered strikes on Iranian nuclear facilities only days earlier. He issued warnings and taunts in the same all-caps style he once used to brag about the size of his nuclear arsenal compared to Kim Jong Un’s. The essay argues that this real-time posting has compressed world-shaking events into casual, ephemeral updates, trivializing violence and policy into the equivalent of viral content.

Yet Trump is not alone in harnessing the power of constant broadcasting. Chayka turns to Zohran Mamdani, a 33-year-old New York State assembly member and Democratic nominee for New York City mayor, who embodies a different approach to digital politics. Where Trump’s style is bombastic and combative, Mamdani’s presence on TikTok and Instagram is more polished and warm. His short-form videos—some produced by the creative agency Melted Solids—blend documentary realism with the aesthetics of viral influencer content. Clips of Mamdani walking through Manhattan or spontaneously greeting his filmmaker mother, Mira Nair, have garnered millions of views. His collaborations with high-profile digital creators like the Kid Mero and Emily Ratajkowski reflect an understanding that modern campaigns are not only about policy but about generating a steady stream of engaging material.

Chayka underscores that both politicians are symptoms of the same phenomenon: social media has swallowed the traditional infrastructure of political communication. No longer is there a clear boundary between a politician’s private musings and official pronouncements. The medium has become the message—and often the entire substance. Even memes have turned into flash points of political conflict. The article recounts how U.S. border officials detained a Norwegian tourist, Mads Mikkelsen, who carried a satirical meme of Vice President J.D. Vance on his phone, suggesting that political images have acquired the power to implicate their holders in ideological battles.

This transformation, Chayka argues, has significant consequences. Trump’s unfiltered posts, once viewed as a sideshow, have become a primary instrument of governance, with the potential to inflame conflicts or disrupt alliances. Meanwhile, Mamdani’s refined authenticity—crafted through video diaries and collaborations—illustrates how even progressive candidates must adopt the same always-online posture to cultivate a political following. While Mamdani’s style is less aggressive than Trump’s, it similarly depends on projecting a version of authenticity that is inseparable from performance.

The essay closes by reflecting on the future of American politics in this environment. The Democratic Party has struggled to counter Trump’s cultural dominance, as shown by tone-deaf spectacles like a Pride concert at the Kennedy Center with anti-Trump parodies of Les Misérables. In contrast, Mamdani’s campaign has generated genuine enthusiasm. Yet Chayka raises an open question: can the idealistic energy of this new digital-first politics survive the compromises of actual governance? If online performance has become the main credential for leadership, it is unclear whether any politician—no matter their ideology—can avoid the pressures of perpetual self-promotion.

In the end, Chayka’s essay offers a clear warning: social media has transformed politics into a theater of the immediate, where every post carries the weight of policy and every meme can become an instrument of power. Whether this dynamic can be reconciled with the demands of responsible government remains the central challenge of the digital age.

Strengths of the Essay

  1. Compelling Illustrations of Digital-First Governance
    • The article effectively juxtaposes Trump’s all-caps proclamations with Mamdani’s handheld videos.
    • Vivid examples: Trump’s posts about Iranian bombings feel almost satirical in their triviality—like “food grams”—yet they are deadly serious.
    • The Vance meme incident (Norwegian tourist Mikkelsen denied entry partly over a meme) underscores how digital artifacts can become politically consequential.
  2. Clear Argument
    • Chayka convincingly demonstrates that posting is no longer merely a marketing tactic—it is a form of exercising power.
    • The phrase “influencer-in-chief” encapsulates this new paradigm succinctly.
  3. Timeliness and Relevance
    • The piece captures the unsettling normalcy of this phenomenon—how we now expect statecraft to be conducted via apps.
    • It connects to broader anxieties about the erosion of institutional boundaries between governance and entertainment.
  4. Balanced Comparison
    • The contrast between Trump’s aggression and Mamdani’s optimism avoids simple equivalence.
    • The essay suggests that while style differs, both are beholden to the same dynamics: immediacy, spectacle, and performative authenticity.

Areas For Further Exploration

  1. A Critique of Consequences
    • While Chayka notes the trivialization of serious decisions (e.g., bombings posted like selfies), he stops short of examining the systemic dangers—the erosion of deliberative processes, the collapse of public trust, and the incentivizing of extremism.
    • A deeper dive into why social media rewards such maximalist performances—and how this affects democracy—would have been valuable.
  2. An Exploration of Audience Complicity
    • The essay portrays politicians as the main actors, but it could interrogate how audiences co-produce this environment: what are the incentives to consume, share, and reward this content?
    • Do voters really want “authenticity,” or simply entertainment masquerading as politics?
  3. Further developed Historical Context
    • While the piece references Trump’s first term, it could have drawn richer parallels with earlier media transformations:
      • Roosevelt’s radio “Fireside Chats”
      • Kennedy’s TV charisma
      • Obama’s early social media campaigns
    • This would help readers situate today’s moment within a longer trajectory.

Broader Implications

The essay ultimately raises unsettling questions:

  • If the performance of authenticity is now the primary qualification for political power, how do policy substance and institutional competence survive?
  • Is there any way for governance to reassert seriousness, or will the logic of virality always prevail?
  • What happens when online theater collides with offline consequences—wars, economies, civic life?

These questions feel especially urgent given that the piece suggests this dynamic is not limited to Trump’s right-wing populism but has also infiltrated progressive candidates.

*THIS ESSAY WAS WRITTEN BY CHAT GPT AND EDITED BY INTELLICUREAN.

Artificial Intelligence, Podcasts, Reviews

Review: How Microsoft’s AI Chief Defines ‘Humanist Super Intelligence’

An AI Review of How Microsoft’s AI Chief Defines ‘Humanist Super Intelligence’

WJS “BOLD NAMES PODCAST”, July 2, 2025: Podcast Review: “How Microsoft’s AI Chief Defines ‘Humanist Super Intelligence’”

The Bold Names podcast episode with Mustafa Suleyman, hosted by Christopher Mims and Tim Higgins of The Wall Street Journal, is an unusually rich and candid conversation about the future of artificial intelligence. Suleyman, known for his work at DeepMind, Google, and Inflection AI, offers a window into his philosophy of “Humanist Super Intelligence,” Microsoft’s strategic priorities, and the ethical crossroads that AI now faces.

1. The Core Vision: Humanist Super Intelligence

Throughout the interview, Suleyman articulates a clear, consistent conviction: AI should not merely surpass humans, but augment and align with our values.

This philosophy has three components:

  • Purpose over novelty: He stresses that “the purpose of technology is to drive progress in our civilization, to reduce suffering,” rejecting the idea that building ever-more powerful AI is an end in itself.
  • Personalized assistants as the apex interface: Suleyman frames the rise of AI companions as a natural extension of centuries of technological evolution. The idea is that each user will have an AI “copilot”—an adaptive interface mediating all digital experiences: scheduling, shopping, learning, decision-making.
  • Alignment and trust: For assistants to be effective, they must know us intimately. He is refreshingly honest about the trade-offs: personalization requires ingesting vast amounts of personal data, creating risks of misuse. He argues for an ephemeral, abstracted approach to data storage to alleviate this tension.

This vision of “Humanist Super Intelligence” feels genuinely thoughtful—more nuanced than utopian hype or doom-laden pessimism.

2. Microsoft’s Strategy: AI Assistants, Personality Engineering, and Differentiation

One of the podcast’s strongest contributions is in clarifying Microsoft’s consumer AI strategy:

  • Copilot as the central bet: Suleyman positions Copilot not just as a productivity tool but as a prototype for how everyone will eventually interact with their digital environment. It’s Microsoft’s answer to Apple’s ecosystem and Google’s Assistant—a persistent, personalized layer across devices and contexts.
  • Personality engineering as differentiation: Suleyman describes how subtle design decisions—pauses, hesitations, even an “um” or “aha”—create trust and familiarity. Unlike prior generations of AI, which sounded like Wikipedia in a box, this new approach aspires to build rapport. He emphasizes that users will eventually customize their assistants’ tone: curt and efficient, warm and empathetic, or even dryly British (“If you’re not mean to me, I’m not sure we can be friends.”)
  • Dynamic user interfaces: Perhaps the most radical glimpse of the future was his description of AI that dynamically generates entire user interfaces—tables, graphics, dashboards—on the fly in response to natural language queries.

These sections of the podcast were the most practically illuminating, showing that Microsoft’s ambitions go far beyond adding chat to Word.

3. Ethics and Governance: Risks Suleyman Takes Seriously

Unlike many big tech executives, Suleyman does not dodge the uncomfortable topics. The hosts pressed him on:

  • Echo chambers and value alignment: Will users train AIs to only echo their worldview, just as social media did? Suleyman concedes the risk but believes that richer feedback signals (not just clicks and likes) can produce more nuanced, less polarizing AI behavior.
  • Manipulation and emotional influence: Suleyman acknowledges that emotionally intelligent AI could exploit user vulnerabilities—flattery, negging, or worse. He credits his work on Pi (at Inflection) as a model of compassionate design and reiterates the urgency of oversight and regulation.
  • Warfare and autonomous weapons: The most sobering moment comes when Suleyman states bluntly: “If it doesn’t scare you and give you pause for thought, you’re missing the point.” He worries that autonomy reduces the cost and friction of conflict, making war more likely. This is where Suleyman’s pragmatism shines: he neither glorifies military applications nor pretends they don’t exist.

The transparency here is refreshing, though his remarks also underscore how unresolved these dilemmas remain.

4. Artificial General Intelligence: Caution Over Hype

In contrast to Sam Altman or Elon Musk, Suleyman is less enthralled by AGI as an imminent reality:

  • He frames AGI as “sometime in the next 10 years,” not “tomorrow.”
  • More importantly, he questions why we would build super-intelligence for its own sake if it cannot be robustly aligned with human welfare.

Instead, he argues for domain-specific super-intelligence—medical, educational, agricultural—that can meaningfully transform critical industries without requiring omniscient AI. For instance, he predicts medical super-intelligence within 2–5 years, diagnosing and orchestrating care at human-expert levels.

This is a pragmatic, product-focused perspective: more useful than speculative AGI timelines.

5. The Microsoft–OpenAI Relationship: Symbiotic but Tense

One of the podcast’s most fascinating threads is the exploration of Microsoft’s unique partnership with OpenAI:

  • Suleyman calls it “one of the most successful partnerships in technology history,” noting that the companies have blossomed together.
  • He is frank about creative friction—the tension between collaboration and competition. Both companies build and sell AI APIs and products, sometimes overlapping.
  • He acknowledges that OpenAI’s rumored plans to build productivity apps (like Microsoft Word competitors) are perfectly fair: “They are entirely independent… and free to build whatever they want.”
  • The discussion of the AGI clause—which ends the exclusive arrangement if OpenAI achieves AGI—remains opaque. Suleyman diplomatically calls it “a complicated structure,” which is surely an understatement.

This section captures the delicate dance between a $3 trillion incumbent and a fast-moving partner whose mission could disrupt even its closest allie

6. Conclusion

The Bold Names interview with Mustafa Suleyman is among the most substantial and engaging conversations about AI leadership today. Suleyman emerges as a thoughtful pragmatist, balancing big ambitions with a clear-eyed awareness of AI’s perils.

Where others focus on AGI for its own sake, Suleyman champions Humanist Super Intelligence: technology that empowers humans, transforms essential sectors, and preserves dignity and agency. The episode is an essential listen for anyone serious about understanding the evolving role of AI in both industry and society.

THIS REVIEW OF THE TRANSCRIPT WAS WRITTEN BY CHAT GPT