The Founders Are Still Warning Us, 250 Years Later

As the United States approaches its 250th anniversary, we will hear tributes to the Founders and see politicians wrap themselves in the “Spirit of 1776.”

My new Hartford Courant opinion piece argues that we should stop treating the Founders as patriotic decoration and take their warnings about executive overreach, congressional weakness, and the use of public office for personal gain seriously.

American exceptionalism is best understood as a commitment to the restraint of power. That commitment is being tested.

Many who most loudly invoke the Founders are not preserving our inheritance. They are squandering it.

Brown Opened Doors, and Today’s Court Is Closing Them

On this day in 1954, the Supreme Court unanimously decided Brown v. Board of Education, declaring racial segregation in public schools unconstitutional. It remains one of the Court’s most consequential decisions — not because it ended racism, inequality, or resistance to integration, but because it affirmed a principle the country had too often denied: separate is not equal.

The ruling was important enough to inspire a song. “Black and White,” written in 1954 by David I. Arkin and Earl Robinson, later became a major hit for Three Dog Night in 1972. But the group’s version omitted lyrics that directly celebrated the Court’s role:

“Their robes were black, their heads were white,

The schoolhouse doors were closed so tight,

Nine judges all set down their names,

To end the years and years of shame.”

Those lines captured a moment when the Supreme Court exercised its authority to expand freedom and strengthen the promise of equal citizenship. The Court did not solve America’s deepest problems. It did not end segregation on its own. Indeed, the backlash to Brown was fierce, sustained, and often successful. But the decision gave constitutional force to the idea that public institutions could not lawfully degrade children on account of race.

That is what makes today’s contrast so painful.

Instead of building on that legacy, the current Supreme Court’s conservative majority has too often moved in the opposite direction. In Shelby County v. Holder, the Court invalidated a key provision of the Voting Rights Act, opening the door to new voting restrictions in several states. In Dobbs v. Jackson Women’s Health Organization, the Court overturned Roe v. Wade, ending the federal constitutional right to abortion and leaving access subject to state law. Citizens United v. FEC helped unleash more outside money into American politics. Taken together, these decisions reflect not only legal reasoning but also a broader retreat from the spirit of inclusion and equality that Brown embodied.

The Court has also made it harder to challenge partisan gerrymandering in federal court, limited LGBTQ protections in public accommodations, made it harder to defend gun-safety laws, constrained environmental regulation, and expanded presidential immunity, all of which threaten basic democratic accountability. For example, after Shelby County, Texas and other states quickly implemented strict voter ID laws and reduced polling places, these measures disproportionately affected communities of color.

These are not isolated decisions. Proponents argue that the Court is restoring constitutional limits, protecting individual liberties, and correcting earlier judicial overreach. Critics see something very different: a broader legal and political project that shifts power away from voters, workers, consumers, people seeking health care, marginalized communities, and regulatory agencies — and toward corporations, wealthy interests, religious-liberty claimants, gun-rights advocates, and executive authority.

Reasonable people can disagree about constitutional interpretation. But we should not pretend the Court is merely calling balls and strikes. The judiciary is shaping the nation’s future as surely as Congress and the president. When the Court narrows voting rights, democracy suffers. When regulatory power weakens, public health and the environment suffer. When it removes protections people have relied on for generations, trust in the law suffers.

Brown reminds us that courts can open doors, but it also reminds us that progress is not inevitable. It must be demanded, defended, and renewed.

The lesson of Brown is not nostalgia. It is a responsibility. I still remember learning about Brown in school not as a dusty legal milestone but as proof that American institutions, however flawed, could be pushed toward justice. Progress happens when people organize, vote, litigate, teach, write, march, and refuse to accept injustice as settled law.

Seventy-two years ago, nine justices helped open the schoolhouse doors. Today, democracy requires us to keep them open — not through nostalgia, but through vigilance, voting, and organizing, and by refusing to treat the erosion of rights as normal. The promise of Brown endures only if we defend it together.

The Last Laugh?

Comedy, Dissent, and the Far Right’s Campaign to Silence Satire

We’re still laughing. For now. 

American politics has long been divided along emotional lines: Republicans evoke fear, while Democrats respond with humor. The right energizes followers with grievance-filled slogans like “Take Our Country Back,” “Stop the Steal.” The most impactful responses from the left often come through late-night monologues, sketches, and stand-up routines.

Ask yourself: how many hard-right comedians with mainstream audiences can you name? Talk radio features conservative stars, and primetime opinion shows can rage for hours. However, the current lineup of popular political comedy mostly includes people like Bee, Colbert, Kimmel, Meyers, Noah, Oliver, and Stewart.

That imbalance matters. Humor is a strength of democracy. It punctures pomposity and invites self-correction. Fear narrows; comedy opens. Today, the far right isn’t trying to out-joke comedy – it’s trying to silence it through economic, political, and legal pressure.

Silencing the jesters

On September 17th, Disney’s ABC suspended Jimmy Kimmel Live after Kimmel made a remark about the assassination of conservative activist Charlie Kirk and then joked about Donald Trump’s reaction to a question about how he was dealing with the loss. (“I think very good,” Trump said. “And by the way, right there, you see all the trucks. They just started construction of the new ballroom for the White House, which is something they’ve been trying to get, as you know, for about 150 years. And it’s going to be a beauty.”).

The action followed public warnings from FCC Commissioner Brendan Carr that affiliates airing “distorted” content could face penalties; Nexstar, which owns many ABC affiliates and is seeking FCC approval for a $6.2 billion acquisition of TEGNA, preemptively removed the show.

Donald Trump publicly celebrated the suspension and called on other networks to cancel more late-night shows, signaling retaliation instead of debate.

The network returned Kimmel to his show on September 23rd after public outrage and a rash of cancellations of Disney-owned streaming services. But Nexstar and Sinclair, owners of local ABC affiliates, kept him off the air. That is, until September 26th, when they caved to the backlash and, more importantly, faced lower ratings without Jimmy.

Weeks earlier, in July, CBS canceled The Late Show with Stephen Colbert, officially citing financial reasons related to the Paramount–Skydance deal. Since Colbert had criticized that very merger, the move raised questions – fair or not – about whether corporate and political interests were aligned against a prominent satirist.

These examples reveal a larger pattern: dissent expressed through comedy is being labeled as distortion, punished as indecency, or viewed as a regulatory liability. Some critics argue that these recent cancellations are no different from ABC’s 2018 decision to cancel “Roseanne” after Roseanne Barr tweeted a racist insult about former Obama adviser Valerie Jarrett. However, that comparison is misleading. Barr’s case involved a private employer enforcing conduct standards after an openly racist outburst. The attacks on Colbert and Kimmel today are about political revenge and corporate caution in response to satire targeting those in power. One concerns accountability for hate speech; the other aims to intimidate dissent. Conflating them is a false equivalency that hides the real danger.

Lessons from the past

The recent threats by the FCC to revoke broadcast licenses are new, but individual comedians facing government pressure and legal threats are not. Lenny Bruce, a pioneering comic of the 1950s and 60s, was repeatedly arrested on obscenity charges for routines that challenged religious and political authorities. His prosecutions discouraged performers and sparked national debates about free speech. George Carlin, another legend of political comedy, was arrested in 1972 for performing his 'Seven Dirty Words' routine. The case, FCC v. Pacifica Foundation, reached the Supreme Court, which upheld the FCC’s authority to regulate 'indecent' broadcasts. Both Bruce and Carlin show that even in a democracy, government institutions have tried to punish comedians when their words challenged prevailing norms or threatened those in power.

Historians note that autocrats have always feared humor. In 1930s Nazi Germany, Propaganda Minister Joseph Goebbels reacted angrily to satire, considering it as a threat to morale and authority. He shut down the Berlin cabaret Die Katakombe, and its host Werner Finck was detained in a camp; later, Finck was banned by the Reichskulturkammer. Performers like Fritz Grünbaum and Paul O’Montis faced persecution or death.

Turkey under Recep Tayyip Erdoğan has repeatedly imprisoned satirists, from the 2016 prosecution of German comedian Jan Böhmermann to the 2025 arrest of staff at the satirical magazine LeMan. In North Korea, humor is tightly controlled by the state; in 2016, Kim Jong Un even banned sarcasm, fearing it was used to mock him. Remember the death threats he made after the release of “The Interview”? China fined comedian Li Haoshi’s company $2 million in 2023 for a joke about the military, and censors foreign sitcoms that cross political red lines. In Russia, Vladimir Putin’s government canceled the satirical puppet show Kukly in 2002, called dissenting comedians 'foreign agents,' and has jailed or exiled performers who mocked the war in Ukraine.

They understood what modern cognitive science confirms: emotion influences people more than facts. Comedy, however, has always been a remedy for fear. No wonder authoritarian regimes want to eliminate the jokes. Laughter exposes their fears and threatens their hold on power.

Why this matters

Comedy is not trivial. It’s one of democracy’s pressure valves – a way for ordinary citizens to laugh at the powerful and prevent fear from swallowing the public square.

Lyndon Johnson, of all people – the powerful, driven, bullying, visionary president – understood the importance of humor and free speech. Though the Smothers Brothers (popular back in the day) performed a controversial satire of him and his Vietnam War policy on their TV show, LBJ said:

“It is part of the price of leadership of this great and free nation to be the target of clever satirists. You have given the gift of laughter to our people. May we never grow so somber or self-important that we fail to appreciate the humor in our lives.”

Contrast this with Trump’s vindictiveness – gloating over Kimmel’s removal and publicly urging other networks to cancel shows. The difference isn’t about taste in comedy; it’s about whether satire is recognized as part of the democratic bargain.

If the far right succeeds in silencing satire – through lawsuits, regulatory threats, and corporate caution – we’ll lose more than just late-night shows. We’ll lose one of the oldest, most humane defenses against authoritarian politics.

Democracy cannot be sustained by fear and force. It requires dissent – even when dissent comes as a joke. The far right understands this. That’s why it’s trying to kill the laughter. The question is whether we will let it.

Scientific Snobbery and Other Acts of Institutional Malpractice

Arthur Caplan’s important new EMBO Reports essay, “How stupid has science been?” serves as a powerful reminder that for decades, much of the scientific community viewed public communication as a career liability – the Sagan Effect, because many regarded the famed astronomer with disdain for trying to explain science in simple, relatable terms.

That cultural snobbery mattered. It left many citizens unprepared to evaluate claims and ceded ground over to the ill-informed, propagandists, and those seeking to manipulate others. Snobbery created a vacuum, but if we only focus on scientists’ failures, we’ll miss the larger structural forces now fueling mistrust and politicization – forces that must be addressed directly if we want science (and our health and global competitiveness) to recover.

Start with the partisan divide in trust. Pew Research Center finds confidence in scientists remains higher among Democrats than Republicans, and the gap widened during and after the pandemic. The pattern shows that party identity influences whether evidence is trusted – regardless of facts or how skillfully scientists explain it.

It’s worth remembering that science wasn’t always a partisan issue. America’s main science agencies were created through mid-century consensus, not by culture-war reactions. The CDC began in 1946 as a malaria-control effort that evolved into the foundation of the nation’s public health system; the NSF was established in 1950 when President Truman created it for “research driven by curiosity and discovery”; the NIH’s history dates back to the 1887 Hygienic Laboratory.

But now, active political interventions have been layered onto the federal science apparatus. Recently, the White House fired CDC Director Susan Monarez weeks after she took office, prompting senior resignations and raising alarms about political control of public health decisions. The administration also proposed slashing NIH’s budget by roughly 40 percent (about $18 billion). Even if Congress moderates these proposals, they signal that federal science has become a partisan battleground.

Performance and integrity are vital for building trust. Americans remember serious ethical and governance failures—like the inhumanity of the Tuskegee syphilis study and the retracted, heavily debunked Wakefield paper linking vaccines to autism—because they shattered the expectation that science self-corrects quickly and transparently.

Finally, our news and information ecosystem supercharges falsehoods. A study of millions of tweets published in Science showed that false news spreads “farther, faster, deeper” than truth – mainly because people share novelty and outrage, and platforms amplify it. That’s a systemic issue; clearer language from scientists helps but can’t, on its own, beat virality.

The trust dividend is pragmatic, not poetic. When evidence prevails, patients receive faster diagnoses and fewer risky detours; businesses scale sooner because regulators trust transparent methods; schools update curricula without culture-war spectacles; and cities act on air and water data before crises metastasize. That’s why the antidote to politicized science isn’t just speeches but a system: clear standards, timely corrections, and public dashboards showing how evidence guides decisions. Consistently doing this doesn’t just reduce tension—it boosts the nation’s ability to solve problems. Communication matters, yes, but performance plus transparency are what turn skeptics into stakeholders.

Certainly, talented public communicators like Neil deGrasse Tyson, Brian Cox, Michio Kaku, Hank Green, and Jessica Knurick, along with training hubs like Stony Brook University’s Alan Alda Center, have entered the scene. Helpful, but far from enough. These efforts must multiply a thousand, even a million times, reaching every part of the country.

So, yes: some snobbery initially created a vacuum. But now, polarization, policy shocks, long-term under-investment, governance failures, and algorithmic virality cause most of the damage. It’s a monumental problem, and we cannot wait for Congress to take meaningful action.

1. Scientists: make communication a core, even mandatory, part of your role, not just a side activity. Back in 2006, I urged scientists and doctors in Nature Biotech to make science more understandable and accessible to the public. It’s not about dumbing things down; it's about making them simple and relevant. If your research is funded by the public, explaining and justifying it is a service. Include a clear, plain-language summary on every paper and preprint; hold regular public Q&A sessions with schools, libraries, and faith groups; and include communication achievements in promotion and tenure dossiers.

2. Media: stop presenting “both sides” equally; emphasize the strength of evidence. False equivalence turns well-established science into a debate show. Use proportional balance: give more coverage to claims supported by strong evidence and less to fringe assertions unless the story specifically addresses misinformation. As I’ve argued elsewhere in “False Equivalencies: The Danger of Treating All Information Equally,” giving equal time to unequal sides misleads intentionally.

3. Schools: focus on teaching how to think rather than just memorizing facts. We don’t need every student to become a scientist, but every citizen should be able to recognize evidence, uncertainty, and tradeoffs. Make the scientific method a regular part of education from middle school onward, pairing it with statistics, probabilistic reasoning, and media/digital literacy. Balance STEM with the humanities so students can grasp ethics, history, and policy contexts.

4. Politicians: be the local leaders science needs. Establish a standing science advisory group in your office composed of accomplished professionals from nearby universities and health systems. Hold regular evidence briefings on issues important to your constituents (e.g., climate change, mental health, vaccine guidance, opioids, air, water, and soil safety). When guidance shifts, announce it openly and explain why. Leadership isn’t about having all the answers; it’s about showing your process.

The current politicization is (hopefully) temporary, not unavoidable. We can reverse it, but only if we address and invest in all the root causes—not just the easiest or least controversial ones. We must be brave and determined before we become sicker, poorer, and even more vulnerable.

Running Government Like a Business? Think Again.

Hearing corporate leaders say, “The government should operate like a business," isn’t new, but the slogan has gained new significance with Elon Musk and Donald Trump promoting aggressive reforms. Now, Silicon Valley’s "move fast and break things" mentality has taken hold. While these statements may resonate with those frustrated by bureaucratic inefficiencies, enacting such approaches can lead to significant challenges and serious unintended consequences.

The Pitfalls of "Move Fast and Break Things"

Using the blunt instrument of mass terminations and freezing previously approved funding suggests that rapidly dismantling existing structures and addressing issues as they arise is an effective strategy. We’re being told that embracing a "fail fast" mentality – where rapid iteration and acceptance of failure contribute to innovation – is the solution to fixing a bloated government. However, this approach can lead to chaos and instability, particularly within complex systems like government. Interruptions in government services and commitments can cause widespread and severe hardships, affecting millions of lives and national stability. 

Musk, appointed (not vetted or confirmed) to lead the Department of Government Efficiency (DOGE), has launched swift and widespread cuts to the federal workforce. (Fearing a legal battle over challenges to Musk’s authority, on Feb. 18, White House official Joshua Fisher stated, “Mr. Musk is not the U.S. DOGE Service Administrator.”) In a recent press conference, Musk described federal employees as an "unelected" branch of government and defended DOGE's secretive operations. These actions have led to the termination of nearly 85,000 government workers – about 3% of America's 2.3 million civil servants – crippling essential services like veterans affairs, nuclear security, and tax administration. Critics argue that these cuts vilify dedicated civil servants and undermine the government’s ability to fund essential services, support public health, and fund vital research.

The aggressive downsizing has elevated national security risks. Musk’s influence now extends to critical government IT infrastructures managed by a wide range of government departments, raising concerns about the integrity and security of federal systems. Despite court orders and numerous warnings about insider threats posed by Musk’s appointees, enforcement remains uncertain, leaving essential government functions vulnerable.

Why the Government Shouldn't Run Like a Business

The idea that the government should function like a business is a common refrain among some business leaders. However, this viewpoint overlooks essential differences between public governance and private enterprise.

In his book Time to Get Tough, Donald Trump asserts that business experience can translate into governmental success, suggesting that corporate strategies can effectively address governmental challenges.

However, governments are designed to serve the public interest. They address issues that are not always profitable but are essential for societal well-being, such as public safety, education, and infrastructure. Applying business principles focused on profit and efficiency can undermine these essential services.

Furthermore, businesses operate under different accountability structures. While a company answers to its shareholders, a government is accountable to its citizens, requiring transparency, equity, and adherence to democratic processes. DOGE's sweeping budget cuts and agency closures have already sparked legal battles, with opponents arguing that such actions bypass congressional oversight and erode democratic checks and balances.

The Founding Fathers warned against rash governmental overhauls. James Madison, in The Federalist Papers, cautioned: "The instability, injustice, and confusion introduced into the public councils have, in truth, been the mortal diseases under which popular governments have everywhere perished." Madison argued that a well-functioning government requires careful deliberation rather than reckless disruption.

When one of his rockets blows up, Musk refers to it as a “rapid unscheduled disassembly.” We’re witnessing the government being blown apart and disassembled right now, right before our eyes, to the dismay of millions of Americans and to the delight of our adversaries.

The Failure of Joy: The 2024 Election and the Power of Fear

Democrats should spend less time blaming each other for their loss and more time on why Republicans won.

In the wake of the 2024 election, political analysts, journalists, voters, and interested observers worldwide are grappling with how Vice President Kamala Harris and the Democratic Party lost despite running a campaign imbued with joy and optimism. As The New York Times reported, “The nationwide repudiation of the party stunned many Democrats who had expressed a ‘nauseous’ confidence about their chances in the race's final weeks. As they sifted through the wreckage of their defeats, they found no easy answers as to why voters so decisively rejected their candidates.”

Not true. The circular firing squad assembled quickly, and the headlines screamed their verdict: “This Is All Biden’s Fault,” “Dems rage against Biden’s ‘arrogance’ after Harris loss,” and “Democratic strategist says her party has lost ‘common sense’ and the ability to speak to ‘normal people’.”

Sure, there are plenty of ways to blame the Democrats for their massive defeat. The party needs to learn a few crucial lessons. But people must remember how Rupert Murdoch/Fox, Elon Musk/X, and others amplified the flood of lies and distortions, which found no counterweight in the mainstream or legacy media. The muddle contributed to tens of millions of people choosing not to vote, abdicating their privilege and responsibility. 

And there’s one more critical factor: Joy alone cannot stand against the power of fear, which Republicans wielded effectively to secure victory.

The Limits of Optimism

Harris and her running mate, Governor Tim Walz, chose “joy” to set their campaign's tone and emphasized hope, unity, and progress. The Vice President highlighted a woman’s right to choose, economic growth under Democratic leadership, and floated new incentives for home ownership and business development. Walz’s persona—the Coach—complemented this strategy, projecting confidence and unwavering belief in a brighter future. 

In a New York Times opinion piece written during the campaign, Charles M. Blow noted, “‘Joy’ Is Working for Harris, but Can It Close the Deal?’” We know the answer. Another NYT piece pointed out that this hopeful approach often fell on deaf ears among undecided and swing voters. One voter said, “I’m not looking for a leader who just tells me everything will be okay. I need to know they understand what I’m worried about.” Another added, “Optimism is nice, but it doesn’t pay the bills or make me feel safer.”

I am a believer, a supporter of joy, and an optimist. However, for months, I have said that the Harris strategy needed to change. The campaign spent significant time talking about unifying the country and the many misdeeds of the 45th President when they should have focused on issues that matter most to middle-class, middle America and efforts to get out the vote. 

In our hyperpolarized world, too few will accept facts, listen to arguments, or ask probing questions. And history shows that two other “happy warriors” failed to win the presidency: Al Smith (1928, losing to Herbert Hoover) and Hubert Humphrey (1968, losing to Richard Nixon). 

The Politics of Fear

History and legend show that fear motivates more effectively than joy or optimism. In the book “Camelot, Inc.,” I discuss how those plotting against King Arthur recognized that emotion—particularly anger—is the most potent unifier. It was understood that to gain traction, people needed an emotional rallying point: “It has to be something broad and popular, which everybody could feel…so that everybody can be angry” (T.H. White, The Once and Future King). Modern-day Republican strategists have mastered this lesson, using the emotional glue of fear to build their base.

Consider how policy debates are framed not as opportunities for growth but as existential threats. During the Obama era’s debates over the Affordable Care Act, opponents shifted the conversation from increasing access to healthcare to an infringement on personal liberty – “taking away” Americans’ choice. Similarly, efforts to regulate firearms meet fierce rhetoric about assaults on constitutional rights, evoking a protective response that overrides fact-based discussions.

The 2024 election highlighted this dynamic. While Democrats emphasized what they could add to the richness of Americans’ lives—greater equality, better access to services, social progress—Republicans positioned their platform as a defense against perceived losses: the erosion of freedoms, security, and identity.

While the abortion issue resonated with many voters, it did not offset the Republican platform of fear. The Republican campaign amplified worries of economic instability, rising crime rates, and the erosion of traditional values, painting a picture of an America under siege. Their messaging resonated powerfully with the public, who sought certainty and protection. Slogans like “Take Our Country Back” and “Never Surrender” reinforced the narrative that the nation needed saving from immediate threats.

The Role of the Media: Sanewashing and Shaping Perception

The news media significantly influenced the 2024 election. While Democrats struggled to energize voters with optimistic messages, mainstream media often sanitized or “sanewashed” Donald Trump and the Republican agenda. The coverage overlooked inflammatory or incoherent statements and emphasized a more favorable narrative. 

This approach significantly affected public perception. While Democrats focused on facts and future-oriented policies, media coverage that downplayed the divisive aspects of GOP rhetoric allowed fear-based messaging to become normalized. This created a political environment where emotional, fear-driven narratives easily overshadowed messages of hope and unity.

On a critical policy issue, a New York Times headline announced that “Public Health Could Be Recast in Second Trump Term.” Recast? Slashing CDC funding, breaking up the NIH, and ending vaccine mandates would demolish public health. Undermining institutions, politicizing science, demonizing scientists, and shattering trust in vaccines will lead to a less informed, less healthy America.

The Need for a New Democratic Strategy

The Harris-Walz campaign fell into a common trap: assuming facts alone would inform and influence perceptions. Facts are crucial, but we see repeatedly that public perception, driven by emotion, often holds more sway. Climate change is real, vaccines don’t cause autism, and fluoride strengthens teeth and helps prevent cavities – widely known facts, yet millions choose to ignore them and sometimes fight against them.

If Democrats want to regain electoral ground, they must face an uncomfortable truth: joy alone is not enough. The GOP’s approach consistently demonstrates that fear, anger, and protectionist themes more effectively energize voters. Democrats should not abandon their values; instead, they should integrate emotional narratives into their strategies. To break the cycle of electoral disappointment, they must combine their vision of hope with the raw power of perceived threats.

Noble ideals must be matched with an emotional strategy that galvanizes as effectively as it inspires. Only then can Democrats hope to break the cycle and harness the energy needed for sustained political momentum.